‘Got that contract with the German signed yet?’ Callum’s voice down the phone is thin and unreal.
She hasn’t seen Callum in the past fortnight. It is, possibly, the longest period they have been apart since they first met.
‘Today, as it happens.’
Miraculously, in the midst of emotional turmoil, she has nailed one contract, at least. She doesn’t want to think about work.
‘How’s the cricket?’
Callum groans. ‘I’m not as fit as I’d hoped. Every muscle aches. How about supper?’
‘I’m really busy at the mo.’
‘Are you avoiding me, Mannie?’
‘No. Why?’
‘I haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘You’re really busy. So’m I.’
‘We could’ve met at the weekend. Sunday.’
‘I had to go in and do some budget forecasts.’
‘So you said.’ Callum’s voice is heavy with scepticism.
‘So—’
‘So you can’t have been all day doing budgets.’
‘I was.’
‘And all evening? You said you’d call after you were done.’
‘I was shattered.’
For the past couple of years Callum McMaster kept her keen by having other interests and other friends, so that she sometimes felt she had to book herself into his diary like a business meeting. Now she’s the one being evasive.
‘You could have called to tell me.’
‘I did. I left a message.’
‘Then hid behind your voicemail.’
‘I didn’t hide. I went to bed early and turned the phone off.’
There’s a pause. Mannie, curled up on her bed with her mobile to her ear, is only half engaged in the conversation with Cal, another part of her is wondering what Brian is doing right now. Seven fifteen, Tuesday evening. Is he at work? In his London office? Or at home, having dinner with his wife? The last thought chills her.
‘So have supper,’ Callum is saying. She can hear the challenge in his voice.
For a minute, Mannie’s whole mind switches to Cal and she can see his sharp cheekbones and teasing smile. She thinks longingly of the closeness they developed.
I want to tell him about Brian
, she thinks, absurdly.
I want to get his advice. I need to know what’s happening to me, because I don’t understand.
The fact is, however, that she is utterly powerless to resist them. And she can’t confide in Callum. She hasn’t even been able to tell Jen.
‘Okay,’ she says reluctantly, in answer to his question. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow. There’s no nets. I’ll come round. I’ll bring a Chinese and some beer.’
‘Fine.’ She knows her voice is unenthusiastic so she repeats the word, this time with brio. ‘Fine!’
After he rings off, Mannie sits for a moment, staring vacantly into space. Her mind, however, is far from vacant. She looks down at the mobile phone in her hand as though it’s something magical that has just appeared in her hands, like a rabbit pulled from a hat. It’s a means of communication. With Brian. Why hasn’t she thought of that before? The phone is smooth under her fingers. It’s time to make contact.
She starts to text.
She selects Brian’s mobile number and presses send. And waits.
Nothing.
Maybe he’s switched it off. No harm in trying again.
It isn’t entirely true, but she’s desperate to keep all channels of communication open.
Still nothing.
She plays idly with the touchpad on her phone, composes the text she really wants to send.
She looks at the shape and form of the words. So short and simple, yet so deeply sweet. There’s a book of that title, isn’t there? And a film? She must find it and watch it. Still, even though she might think the thought, she can’t send this message to Brian. She reaches for the delete button.
Shit! She has pressed send by mistake.
Mannie looks at the phone in horror. Christ! What will he think? Too late to undo the deed. Best compose another text to explain.
But does she really want to deny it? Why not be open and honest? There shouldn’t be secrets between them. She keys in another message, her thumbs tapping the screen in short, staccato movements.
A rap on the door and Jen pokes her head round. ‘Drinkie?’
‘Why not?’ She hasn’t had a good chat with Jen for ages. Absently, she presses send again.
‘You’re not working?’ Jen indicates the phone.’
Mannie tosses it away. ‘No, no, nothing like that.’
‘And Callum’s not on his way, is he?’
‘No, not tonight.’
‘I’ll pour then.’
‘Be right there.’
As Jen closes the door behind her, she reaches forward and picks up the phone again, peering at it as if a message might have – by some supernatural means – have appeared silently, without announcing itself. A ridiculous notion, of course. There’s no answer from Brian. She picks her phone up again and scrolls through her sent messages, re-reading what she’s written. Good grief! Has she really told him she loves him? She’d better rectify that.
There. That will reassure him. She tucks the phone into the pocket of her jeans and squirms off the bed. Passing the mirror, she pauses to run a brush through her hair. He called her pretty. The thought pleases her and she is smiling as she walks into the living room. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey. Nice to see you looking happy for a change. Here.’
Jen hands her a glass of white wine. ‘Cheers.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Cheers.’
As they sink down on to their chairs, Jen says curiously, ‘You’ve been really odd recently, Mannie. Something up?’
Up? Nothing much. Merely the fact that I’ve fallen in love with a man old enough to be my father.
Even thinking the words gave Mannie a jolt. Not only is Brian Henderson as old as her father, but he’s also quite ordinary, and middle aged, and balding. He’s got a spare tyre and a wife and kids. And she has Callum, who is gorgeous and who loves her, and who is, besides, a Really Nice Guy.
‘Mannie?’
She takes a deep gulp of the wine and feels it course down her throat. ‘Yes?’
‘Is something wrong?’
Mannie tries to convince herself that she can talk to Jen, that she’s safe. Nevertheless, she proceeds cautiously. ‘I’ve been worrying. See, there’s this girl at work—’
‘Do I know her?’
‘Er, no, I don’t think so. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. This girl, she’s having an affair.’
Jen laughs. ‘Nothing new there then. Is it with her boss?’
‘No, not her boss, but with a much older man. Old enough to be her father.’
‘Yeugh, gross.’
‘He’s a very nice man.’
‘Whatever. Why doesn’t she look elsewhere? Is she crazy, or what?’
‘Crazy.’ Mannie considers the word. ‘I suppose she might be. Depends how you define crazy, I guess. She seems to be pretty fixated on him. Anyway—’
She pauses, considering. She isn’t entirely sure, now that she has started the conversation where it’s going to end up.
‘Anyway, what do you think I should do? Tell her to give up on him, or tell her to follow her heart?’
‘Oh, tell her to give him a swerve, for sure. Plenty other guys around.’
If only it were that simple – but there’s nothing rational about her feelings for Brian Henderson. All the arguments are against pursuing a relationship with him, but something inside her is driving her to him.
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit weird?’ Jen is saying, ‘I mean, why would you?’
But now Mannie doesn’t want to talk about it. Jen’s reaction is enough to warn her off the topic. ‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘I’ll tell her. Now listen, what about you? Any news on the flat front? Thought about that one in Musselburgh we saw?’
‘Yeah. I’ve decided it’s too far out. You free tomorrow to go round more?’
Mannie shakes her head. ‘Sorry. Promised to see Cal.’
‘Right. I’ll go myself then.’
‘I’d love to Jen, honest.’
‘Sure.’
Mannie can hear her phone buzzing through in her bedroom.
Brian!
‘Hang on, Jen, sorry, I need to get that.’
He’s answered me! I knew he would!
But it isn’t Brian. The message is from her mother, suggesting lunch.
Mannie ponders Jen’s reaction to her story as she lies awake in bed. She is right, of course. The very idea of having a relationship with such an old man is bizarre. And in any case, who is she fooling? Brian has shown no desire to see her again and apart from that one brief moment when they kissed, he has shown no sign of finding her particularly attractive.
Best to put all thoughts of him aside.
But is that possible? she asks herself.
Back comes the answer: not only possible – essential.
By the time she falls asleep, her mind is made up. She won’t contact Brian again.
Supper is to be a private affair – Myra is at her future in-laws for supper and Jen is out. Mannie makes an effort. She showers and washes her hair just before Callum arrives, so that her dark locks shine and ripple across her shoulders as she moves. She even puts on her red dress, the one Cal really likes.
I am going to forget Brian
, she vows to herself.
I really am.
Cal arrives, smiling and handsome and bearing a bulging carrier bag of food, and she knows she had made the right decision.
‘Singapore-style noodles, scallops with ginger and cashew nuts, egg fried rice and some Tsingtao, nicely chilled.’
He unloads a series of foil containers from the paper carrier bag.
‘Brilliant. I’m ravenous.’
He laughs. ‘You’re always ravenous, Mannie. Got some bowls?’
She pulls them out of the cupboard, and glasses for the beer.
‘So. What’s new?’
‘Nothing really. Just loads of work. You?’
‘Work. And cricket, of course.’
‘How’s it going?’
‘Pretty well. Except for the screaming muscles.’
Cal helps himself to a large bowlful of food and attacks it with the chopsticks Mannie has laid out.
‘When’s the first match?’
The scallops are good and she eats them with relish, but as she asks the question, it occurs to her that she should know the answer already, that they’re talking like relative strangers. This is Cal, for heaven’s sake!
‘Week on Saturday. Going to come?’
‘Of course I’ll come,’ she says reproachfully, and feels guilty that he has to ask.
Callum is smart and talented and nice – and he is hers. That is what she wants. So why does she feel so ridiculously awkward with him? She feels almost as if she has been unfaithful and is frantically trying to cover her tracks – which is so not true. Or is it? Because in her head, she has come perilously close to being unfaithful.
‘I’ll stay tonight, if you like.’
‘That would be great.’
Mannie tries to say it with enthusiasm.
I am keen, for goodness’ sake.
She thinks of his smooth skin and the hollow plain of his stomach, the way she fits together with him, like exactly the right jigsaw piece slotting into place. He is the best lover she has ever had, not just because he’s deliciously sexy, but because she loves him. She holds out her hand, across the kitchen table and lets it nestle inside his big one.
Myra appears, opening the door and stumbling in awkwardly, dropping her bags clumsily in her usual ungainly way.
Cal leaps to her aid. ‘Hi, gorgeous bride to be.’ He kisses her cheek.
Myra blushes. ‘Ooh, Cal, you are lovely,’ she giggles. ‘Isn’t he, Mannie?’
‘Lovely,’ Mannie agrees, wondering why she isn’t melting inside at the thought of him sharing her bed tonight.
‘Shall we head?’ Cal nods towards her bedroom.
She knows what he’s thinking. He wants privacy. He wants to hop into bed and cuddle up. He wants all the things she wanted too, just a week or two back.
I do want them
, she tries to convince herself.
Of course I do.
But when the door is shut and he turns and pulls her into his arms, she tenses, and when his lips came down on hers, she turns her head away.
‘What?’ He senses the resistance and moves back. ‘What is it?’
She bursts into tears.
‘Christ, Mannie, what’s up? Is it the time of month? What? I’ve never seen you like this before.’
Mannie rolls into a ball. Callum, perching on the edge of the bed beside her has his hand on her shoulder. He’s trying to uncurl her, to get her to look at him, to coax her to tell him what it’s all about. She knows it, she can feel the contact, loves him for trying, hates herself for being like this.
‘What?’ Callum repeats. ‘Have I done something? Mannie—’
His voice trails away uncertainly.
She hears it and the guilt redoubles. Uncertainty so isn’t like Callum, and he’s done nothing to deserve this. Nothing at all. It’s her fault, everything is her fault. But I can’t not tell him, Mannie thinks, as the great, wracking sobs begin to ease into something less all-consuming. What will he think? Will he be like Jen was? Revolted? Critical? Hurt?
She uncurls slowly and twists round so that she can bury her head on his chest – anything rather than actually face him. And yet that has to be done. She has to look into his eyes and confess her feeling, because unless she does, there can be no moving forward.
It takes ten minutes, maybe more, and Cal’s patience in that time nearly breaks her heart. He holds her, soothes her as you might comfort a child who has fallen over.
‘There, there. It’s all right. It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine,’ he repeats over and over again, whispering softly into her hair so that all she is aware of is a sweet susurration of sound, like a breeze in tall grasses.
She thinks of the day they spent on the beach down the coast – before London, before Confex, before Brian – when they lay on the dunes and heard the wind make just this noise.
It works, up to a point – up to the point when she knows she can avoid it no longer. She edges out of his arms, accepts a tissue and blows her nose.
‘So,’ he says, the corner of his mouth lifting a fraction, a twitch that reads more like wry resignation than humour. ‘I think you’d better tell me. Or no, let me guess.’
He puts a finger to his chin and tilts his head to one side. ‘Just nod or shake. Okay?’
She nods.
‘You’ve been sacked for gross misconduct.’
Shake.
‘Herr Leeuwen’s cancelled his contract?’
Shake.
‘Okay, but he’s sticking with the dancing girls request?’
Shake, this time accompanied by the tiniest of giggles.
‘Good. You’ve lost weight?’
Shake, shake.
‘You’ve put on weight?’
Shake, shake, shake.
‘That leaves illness, an illicit affair and pregnancy.’
He says it jokingly, but faced with three options, Mannie hesitates. It’s enough to alarm him.
‘Don’t tell me you’re pregnant.’
‘I’m not pregnant.’ She manages a whisper. In her hand, the balled tissue feels soggy and unpleasant.
‘You’re ill? What? You haven’t got cancer or something, have you?’
‘No, no – no, I’m not ill.’ Her voice dies as she realises what is left.
Cal is staring at her, his eyes filled with disbelief. ‘You’re having an affair?’ His voice rises sharply at the end of the sentence. ‘Mannie?’
‘I’m not having an affair.’ She can hear her own voice, the words choked and half strangled, sounding unnatural. ‘Not even close.’
The relief on his face is obvious, and that made her confession even harder.
‘I give up. You’d better tell me.’
Prevaricating, she reaches for a clean tissue, blows her nose again, wipes her eyes, sniffs, then – finally – begins.
‘I’ve met this man.’
‘I thought you said you weren’t having an affair?’
‘I’m not.’
She thinks of the kiss and dismisses the memory. The lie is only a tiny one.
‘The thing is ... the thing is—’ This is it. Here goes. ‘I met him one day. Accidentally. I was at that trade fair, the same one I had to deal with Herr Leeuwen, and he just came by the stand. And I ... got these strange feelings for him. I didn’t mean to, Cal, honest, I couldn’t help it, it just happened and I can’t stop thinking about him but nothing’s happened, honest it hasn't, I mean I haven’t done anything, but I’m obsessed with him and I can’t help it and —’
The words are gushing out now, unstoppable, and the sight of Callum’s face, the open mouth, the incredulous look in the eyes, just makes her babble more. ‘I know it’s ridiculous, Cal, I’ve told myself a dozen times, a hundred times, don’t think I haven’t, but I can’t stop thinking about him.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ve said.’
‘You met a man at a trade fair and you’ve fallen for him. Just like that.’
‘Yes.’
She can’t bear to look at him. She can’t bear what she is doing any more than she can understand why she is doing it.
‘Why, Mannie?’
She shrugs, a tiny lift of the shoulders. It isn’t meant to appear unfeeling, but the gesture is enough to infuriate Cal.
‘Is he handsome? Funny? Rich? What?’
‘None of these things. He’s as old as Dad, and he’s going bald.’ She can hear the absurdity of it.
Callum is just staring at her. It seems he has lost the power to speak.
‘I don’t know what it is, Cal.’ She spreads her hands pleadingly. ‘I know it’s stupid, but I ... can’t help it. I want to be with him. Sometimes it seems to me that’s all I want in the whole world. It’s like my whole being has been invaded by something and I can’t fight it.’
She reaches out for his hand, wanting to explain, but he snatches it away and folds his arms. His lips are pursed tightly, and a deep frown has appeared between his eyes.
‘I still love you, Cal,’ she says beseechingly. ‘And I don’t want this to happen. I want to fight it. But I can’t. I can’t.’
The tears are threatening to start again and her throat is swelling with the effort of fighting them. Cal’s arms are folded tightly across his body, forbidding approach. He stands up and starts pacing around the room.
‘Christ, Mannie, if you’d told me you’d turned lesbian I couldn’t be more stunned.’
‘Cal, can we talk about—’
‘What is there to talk about, for heaven’s sake?’
‘I haven’t done anything! Cal, please, you’ve got to believe me! It’s just how I feel and I can’t help it.’
‘I thought you loved me, Mannie, I had begun to think we could make it.’
‘Me too!’
‘I laid my heart on my hand for you.’
‘Cal—’
‘And with your pals moving out, I thought we might even talk about living together.’
‘Sweetheart, I—’
‘Sweetheart? What are you talking about, Mannie? You can’t be in love with two people at the same time. And certainly not when one of them is me.
‘Please try to understand—’
But Cal is reaching for his sweater. ‘You’re a great talker, Mannie, but don’t try to talk yourself out of this one. ’
She is heavy, weighed down with it all. She can’t move. Even raising a hand to try to stop him seems too difficult. All she can do is watch, her eyelids leaden with shed and unshed tears, as he slams out of the room.
She hears Myra say, in startled tones, ‘Everything all right, Callum?’ and his growled reply, and then the front door bangs closed and he has gone.
Christ. I messed that up.
‘You okay, Mannie?’ Myra’s head comes round her door, her kindly face full of concern.
‘Fine,’ Mannie says, in a voice that tells exactly the opposite story. ‘Just fine.’
It’s a wretched night. Why did she have to tell Callum? Couldn’t she have kept the whole thing to herself until she’d sorted her head out? Sleep doesn’t come to her till dawn, and even then it’s fitful and brings little respite. The first thing she does when she wakes is check her phone.
Mannie hates herself for that, because in truth what she wants to see is something from Brian, not Callum. The memory of Cal’s face, the look of shock, and hurt, and wretchedness, and confusion, of his usually kissable lips slack with barely controlled emotion, hurts her inside like a reamer scouring her guts – but it’s Brian she wants to text her.
Frantic with longing, she flicks her way through the messages, wondering if she has missed something in her eagerness. But there’s nothing. Against all rational judgement, she texts him again.
She goes to wash.
Makes herself a coffee.
Forces herself to wash last night’s dishes before she checks again. Still nothing.
By the time she leaves for work, she has sent eleven texts. Nothing unusual in that. Just making sure he knew she wanted to talk to him. Just normal, friendly texts.
She’s in a client meeting first thing and is forced to put her phone on silent, but she leaves it on the table in front of her.
‘Expecting an urgent call,’ she says with an apologetic smile. ‘Hope it doesn’t disturb us. Sorry.’
If he calls, she’ll have to excuse herself, there can be no other choice.
But he doesn’t call. With an effort that feels almost superhuman, Mannie forces herself not to text again. A dozen times she picks up the phone, her fingers itching, then makes herself lay it down again. He will think she’s mental. She isn’t, of course, just ... just what, Mannie? Just obsessed? Not that, surely not that? Just friendly, just wanting to know he’s all right, that he has been thinking about her.
Don’t kid yourself, Mannie, a voice in her head keeps telling her. You’re crazy about him.
What, then, of Callum?
And so it goes on, round and round her head until she really does feel crazy – but Brian doesn’t call that week. Neither does Callum.