‘I am,’ she said firmly. ‘That’s why I wanted to have lunch with you. You need to come over and take what you want. You still have bits and pieces and all the books in your study. What about the china and the crystal? What about the paintings? We have to sort all this out. What do you want to do with them?’
‘I suppose I’ll have to put them in storage for the time being. There’s no room in Nikki’s place. She doesn’t like clutter,’ he said flatly.
‘You could buy a new place with your share of the money,’ Francesca said brightly. ‘If Nikki sold her apartment you’d have a very substantial sum, surely.’ She was fishing, curious to know if they were going to buy a place of their own, but unwilling to ask directly.
‘We’ll see,’ Mark said noncommittally as the aromatic whiff of rosemary signalled the arrival of their lamb. They sat in silence as their meal was served. Francesca felt quite peckish, surprisingly.
‘Have you told your parents yet?’ Mark asked as he forked a portion of succulent lamb into his mouth.
‘Nope. Have you told your dad?’
‘God, no!’ Mark exclaimed. ‘What do you think I am? Brave?’
Francesca laughed and pronged a sliver of buttered carrot. ‘I know
exactly
how you feel. Terrible, isn’t it? We’re in our forties, for God’s sake. We’ve got grown-up children.’
Mark made a face. ‘No matter how old you are there are times when you still feel like a child with your parents.’
‘Once I mention divorce, I’m in for it,’ Francesca groaned. ‘But I suppose we should tell them. I wouldn’t like them to read in the papers that the house is for sale. I’m sure they’d prefer to hear it from us. Unwelcome as it may be.’
‘Are you sure about the divorce?’ Mark ventured.
‘There’s no reason not to. It leaves you free to do
your
thing and me free to do mine.’ Francesca eyed him over the rim of her glass. He still obviously hadn’t warmed to the idea of divorcing her. Millie had been so right.
‘Well, it’s entirely up to you,’ Mark muttered.
‘Don’t you want to be free to make plans?’ Francesca asked curiously.
‘I’m happy enough the way I am.’
‘I’m sure Nikki would prefer you to be divorced.’
‘It really makes no difference to us,’ Mark countered.
‘I see,’ Francesca murmured.
Hope ignited in her husband’s eyes. ‘So will we just sell the house and forget the divorce?’
‘No, we might as well go the whole hog,’ Francesca said, resolutely closing off that escape route.
Mark cleared his throat. ‘I hope you don’t mind me asking you, but does this have anything to do with that guy I saw you with?’
Francesca laid down her knife and fork. ‘Mark, whether it has or not makes no difference. I still want a divorce. But as it happens it has nothing to do with Ralph or anyone else. It’s what
I
want that counts for me from now on. Selfish of me, perhaps, but that’s the way it is.’
‘What does he do, this Ralph guy?’
‘He’s a journalist. I met him through work.’ Francesca picked up her knife and fork and resumed eating.
‘It’s funny to think of you with someone else.’ The remark slipped out unthinkingly.
‘I felt the same about you and her,’ Francesca retorted.
Mark leaned across and took her hand. ‘I never meant to hurt you,’ he said brusquely. ‘None of it was planned.’
‘I always loved your fingers,’ she murmured distractedly, gazing at their entwined hands. Mark had long fingers, pianist’s fingers. A wave of desire flooded her as she remembered how he used to turn her on with those fingers. She saw an answering desire in his eyes, and drew her hand away, confused. This was madness. ‘I need to be heading off soon, I’ve to go out to RTE.’ She caught the waiter’s eye and called him over. ‘Are you having dessert?’
‘No, just coffee for me,’ Mark said.
She smiled at the waiter. ‘Two coffees, please.’
‘What are you doing at RTE?’ Mark sat back in his chair.
‘Delivering some review copies of books for various programmes.’ Francesca was glad the conversation was back on general lines. For several hormone-stirring moments she’d wanted to kiss her husband – and more. It was the first time she’d felt horny in a long time. And he’d felt it too. She’d seen it in his eyes.
‘It sounds interesting,’ he said slowly.
Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh Mark, it is. I love the work. Ken and I get on extremely well. I feel alive again,’ she enthused.
‘It suits you. You look great.’
Francesca smiled. ‘It’s so ironic to hear you say that. I can’t remember the last time you told me that I looked well when we were married. Familiarity and all that …’
‘We stopped paying attention to each other,’ Mark murmured.
‘I suppose we did,’ Francesca said sadly. In some ways she’d taken him for granted as much as he had her. The coffee came and she gulped it down. ‘Mark, I have to rush,’ she apologized. She took some notes out of her wallet. ‘My share,’ she said.
‘Please, Francesca, just this once let me buy lunch. You can do it the next time,’ Mark protested. He looked so earnest, she felt it would be churlish to refuse.
‘OK. Thanks. I’ll keep you informed about what’s happening. And maybe you could think about what you’re going to do about your stuff. Maybe Gerald might let you store it in his place,’ she suggested.
‘That’s a thought, I suppose. I’ll mention it to him and see what he says.’ Mark stood up politely. ‘See you, Francesca. Today was good.’
‘Bye, Mark.’ Their eyes met.
‘This is strange,’ he said.
‘Us being civil?’
‘You know what I mean.’
Her face grew sad. ‘I know. I never thought it would be us. See you.’
She walked quickly out of the restaurant, overwhelmed with emotions. Because they had been civil to each other and had actually relaxed in each other’s company it had felt almost like old times. And yet they were parting to go to completely separate lives. The most shocking realization had been that she still felt desire for Mark.
No, maybe it was desire for sex. After all, it’s been a long time
, she argued with herself as she sat in the car.
You could have had sex with Ralph if you’d wanted to. He’d certainly like to. It was Mark you wanted
.
‘Oh, shut up, Francesca,’ she muttered as she indicated to get into the stream of traffic along the canal. Maybe the lunch hadn’t been such a good idea after all. She was better able to cope with Mark when he was angry with her and she was angry with him. Today she’d felt herself softening towards him and that wasn’t what she wanted.
She wanted the divorce, she reassured herself. Mark was only using her as an excuse not to have to make a commitment to Nikki. She was
not
going to be that excuse!
‘You’re getting a divorce? That’s preposterous! Your dear mother would turn in her grave,’ blustered Gerald. ‘Cost you a damn fortune as well.’
‘I know,’ groaned Mark. ‘Don’t remind me.’ He’d decided to get the bad news over and done with sooner rather than later. Now that Francesca was determined to sell up and divorce him he felt the need to know that his possessions would be somewhere secure until he had himself sorted out. Gerald was his usual cantankerous self, unfortunately.
‘What does she want to sell that lovely house for? She won’t get as good a property anywhere else. You’ll be paying a packet for somewhere to live now.’
‘I know. I don’t want her to sell up but she sees it differently unfortunately and as I have books, paintings and bits and pieces to remove, I was wondering if you’d let me put them in the small bedroom for a while until I have myself sorted,’ Mark said patiently.
‘And when will that be?’ demanded his father.
‘Soon enough!’
‘Are you still living with that other one?’
He tried to hide his irritation. ‘Yes, Dad.’
‘Why can’t you put your stuff there?’ Gerald demanded.
‘Lack of space,’ Mark said succinctly.
‘Hrumph,’ snorted his father.
‘Can I put my stuff here or not, Dad? If not, fine, I’ll arrange to put it in storage.’ Mark laid it on the line.
‘Storage would cost a fortune. You can have the spare room. But I hope it won’t be for too long,’ his father growled. ‘Now that you’re here you can cut the grass for me. My knees are aching something fierce. And another thing, I need to buy a new freezer – that one I have is on the way out. I want you to come around the electrical showrooms with me to help me pick one. We can do it tomorrow,’ Gerald instructed.
It might be a hell of a lot cheaper in the long run to pay for storage, because one way or another his father would make him pay for the privilege of storing his bits and pieces. Mark shook his head as he went out to the shed to get the lawnmower. He plugged it in and began to cut the grass. He actually liked cutting grass. There was something calming about it. He strode up and down the garden, his mind meandering from subject to subject. It was going to be difficult dividing up the house contents. He and Francesca had accumulated a lot of
objets d’art
, especially when they’d travelled.
She was very set on getting a divorce. He’d never thought she’d go that far. He’d always known that
she
had a determined streak in her but the Francesca he’d met for lunch today was a far different woman to the one he’d been married to. There was a hard-edged assertiveness to her, a confidence, that was new. It had been bittersweet lunching with her today. He would have liked to spend longer with her. When he’d taken her hand something had happened between them. The old spark they’d had years ago had flared. It was like dating. He bet he could still turn her on too, if he wanted, Mark reflected as he emptied the grass cuttings. He’d seen the look in her eyes. He wondered if she was sleeping with the journalist. He couldn’t be sure. He knew it was selfish of him but he hoped to hell that she wasn’t. If she wasn’t, eight months was a long time to go without sex. It would be good, he thought dreamily. Lying in bed with Francesca in their big bed suddenly seemed like the most desirable thing in the world.
He missed her, he missed family life, he missed his sons and he missed his house. Mark stood slack-jawed as it dawned on him what he was thinking. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be reconciled with his wife.
But what about Nikki? Mark chewed his lip. He loved Nikki’s vibrancy and intelligence. She challenged him in every way: mentally, emotionally, sexually; but at the end of the day, he didn’t want challenges any more. He’d had enough. He wanted familiarity, comfort, a shared history. If Francesca hadn’t found out about Nikki and forced the issue, he often felt that the relationship would have run its course; he would have satisfied whatever need and
want
that was in him, got it out of his system and come to his senses.
Would Francesca take him back? he pondered. It would save so much hassle if she did. They could keep the house and get back to the way things were before and life would resume its smooth even tenor.
He thought about Nikki, about how much she loved him, and felt a stab of guilt. If he went back to Francesca she’d be gutted. She’d probably leave the bank. It would be difficult for her to continue working there. But she was relatively young, with a great career ahead of her. Her career was the most important thing in her life and she was going to go far, he thought proudly. Nikki would get over him. Their relationship had followed a far smoother course when they weren’t living together. She’d find someone else.
Having finally faced what had been niggling at him for a long while, Mark felt as if a huge burden had lifted from his shoulders. Why hadn’t he faced up to it sooner and not let things drag on to this extent? All he had to do now was to convince his wife to take him back and everything would slip right back into place, Mark thought with relief. He’d seen the look in her eyes when their hands touched. He’d woo her, he decided excitedly. He’d woo her like he had when he’d first met her and been crazy for her.
Whistling to himself, he put the lawnmower back in the shed. When she saw that he was serious about getting back together, and when she gave it some thought, she’d come to the same conclusion as he had. Mark was sure of it.
‘I KNOW THAT
you’ll give out to me for saying so, but it was nice having lunch with Mark. Not fighting any more was such a huge relief,’ Francesca explained earnestly. ‘Listen to me!’ she exclaimed. ‘I shouldn’t feel I have to justify having a civilized meal with my husband. Mind you, I do feel a bit confused. In one way it was easier when we were fighting, because I knew where I stood.’ She folded another T-shirt and put it in the plastic bag Millie had set aside for them. She laid the full bag neatly in the middle of the suitcase. She was helping her sister pack for her vacation in France.
‘I knew it!’ Millie exclaimed. ‘He buys you a half-decent lunch and you’re crumbling already. I bet he asked you to reconsider the divorce and putting the house up for sale.’
‘Yeah,’ admitted Francesca as she matched socks together.
‘Told you! He’s so fucking manipulative, Francesca. Before you know it he’ll be asking you to take him back,’ Millie declared.
‘Don’t be silly!’
‘Silly, am I? He doesn’t want to marry your woman, he doesn’t want you to sell the house. He’s jealous of Ralph. He’s being nice to you, treating you to lunch. Silly, am I? We’ll see,’ Millie retorted.
‘Look,
I
asked him to lunch to talk about dividing up the contents of the house. Does that sound as though I’m planning on staying?’
‘He’s working on you,’ Millie warned. ‘Did Ralph get in touch yet?’
‘No, actually,’ Francesca said slowly. ‘I thought I would have heard from him by now. He’s probably up to his eyes.’
‘A phone call doesn’t take two minutes,’ Millie snorted. ‘One minute he’s all over you, the next he’s not calling. Bit of an enigma, isn’t he?’
‘Maybe he’s giving me some space,’ Francesca suggested hopefully.
‘Maybe,’ agreed Millie. ‘But there’s no need to go overboard.’
Francesca busied herself sorting out the girls’ sun-dresses and shorts. She was disappointed that Ralph hadn’t called. She’d hoped to see him over the weekend. Maybe her idiotic behaviour on the pier in Howth had been the last straw. But surely he could understand how she felt. He’d seemed OK about it. She might have been mixed up the night of their dinner date but she felt a damn sight more confused now after her little episode with Mark in the restaurant.