Ordinary Miracles (9 page)

‘That film editing seminar in Paris didn’t last a week did
it?’ I hiss.

‘What?’

‘That film editing seminar in Paris – it was only for a
weekend. You spent the rest of the time with her, didn’t you? Admit it.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, Jasmine, do we have to go through all
this again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, I admit it. Cait did join me, but we were also
discussing a possible documentary project in Lyons.’

‘So you went to Lyons with her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And Bordeaux too, I suppose.’

‘No, no, we never went to Bordeaux.’ Bruce is quite
vehement about this.

‘And what about that time you went to Cannes for the
Festival? Did she come too?’

‘No. No. Cait didn’t come to Cannes. I was only involved
with her for a year. It’s all over between us now. Really.’

‘A year,’ I think. ‘A whole year.’

The interrogation continues for a while, upon my insist
ence. I insist because, lately, I often sit bolt upright in the middle
of the night with a new and nasty suspicion which demands
corroboration.

‘That really does about cover it,’ says Bruce, who’s
tapping a spoon against his thumb and looking even more
weary.

‘And what about the Interflora docket?’

‘Those roses were for Aunt Emma. She was eighty.’

‘I can check that, you know.’

‘Go ahead.’

Then the waiter comes over with his little notepad.

‘Don’t dare order the veal,’ I scowl.

‘Of course not.’

As Bruce gives the waiter our order he doesn’t say
‘Très bien’
or
‘Formidable’
once. He looks rather forlorn and lost
in fact. As I finish my second glass of wine I feel myself
reluctantly softening.

‘How are you managing – financially I mean?’ Bruce asks
after I’ve told him about my course.

‘I’m using the money we put aside for the conservatory.’

‘Oh.’

I crack open a bread roll. ‘Considering all the extra hotel
bills and airline fares you must have incurred lately I assumed
you wouldn’t mind.’

‘How’s Charlie?’ The question is sharp and asked with a
tight smile.

‘Charlie’s fine. Susan’s going to ask him to a film. She
fancies him.’

Bruce smiles more broadly at this news, and then I move
the discussion on to Katie before he can. Bruce knows Katie
is my weak spot and he plays on it.

‘She seems fine,’ I say. ‘We talk a lot on the phone.’ Since he
hasn’t mentioned lesbianism I don’t bring the subject up. But
this time Bruce doesn’t try to fill me with fears about Katie’s
welfare. He agrees that she seems to be enjoying university.
And, because the Chilean wine is making me mellow, I decide
to answer the question he asked earlier. ‘Yes, I do remember
that wine tasting in Bordeaux,’ I say. ‘It was very nice.’

‘Yes it was, wasn’t it?’ Bruce is enormously pleased. He
leans forward conspiratorially. ‘And what happened later
that night was even better.’

This is obviously meant to flatter and reassure me, but
instead it reawakens my rage.

‘Don’t talk to me about sex, you bastard!’ I say, just loud
enough for the couple at the next table to hear. ‘Don’t dare
bring up memories of when I was naive enough to think you
loved me…you unfaithful…you – you lying little shit!’

‘Shhhh, Jasmine. People can hear you.’

‘How could you? How could you kiss her in our kitchen!
How could you have sex with her in our bed!’

I’m aware of a solemn presence beside me and look up to
see that the waiter is waiting to serve us our first course. I smooth out my napkin while he does this and then, for a moment or two, he and Bruce talk about the Chilean wine.

‘It’s surprisingly robust, isn’t it?’

‘O
ui monsieur.’

‘And not at all bitter.’

‘Oui monsieur. Bon appetit.’

As the waiter departs the couple at the next table both give
us swift, excited, glances. Bruce looks down disconsolately at
his
“Terrine de Volaille”.

‘Let’s try not to fight. Okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘You’ve every right to be angry. I would be too.’

Though misery has removed my appetite, I’m determined to eat at least four of my
crevettes.
Bruce also seems to be
masticating with some difficulty.

‘I want you to know,’ Bruce is leaning forward again, ‘I
want you to know that I never discussed you with her. I knew
you wouldn’t like that.’

‘Thanks a lot.’

‘I know it seems strange to bring it up, but it’s the kind of
thing that preys on people’s minds.’

‘How do you know?’ I’m surprised at his perspicacity.

‘A woman on the radio was talking about it.’

‘Yeah – there’s a lot of it about. I suppose everyone else
knew about you and Cait before me. I suppose they were all
sniggering and gossiping behind my back.’

‘Hardly anyone knew about it.’

‘Who knew about it?’ I almost spit the question at him.
I’m quivering with indignation.

‘Oh, come on, Jasmine…’

‘Tell me.’

‘Just Eamon and Alice…we work so closely together it
was impossible to keep it secret.’ Bruce is leaning forward
again. ‘Jasmine, please come back. I miss you. Cait isn’t even
playing the part of Avril any more. It’s all over between us.
She’s working on a film in Belgium.’

‘So she’s out of the country?’ I manage a fifth prawn at
this news.

‘Yes. I should never have got involved with her. It was a…
a silly fling. Come back. Do. You’ve made your point.’

‘I don’t know. I need more time.’

‘I love you, Jasmine.’

I stare him straight in the eyes. ‘Look Bruce, if you don’t
want a kick under the table keep off that subject, okay?’

‘All right.’

‘Anyway, if getting involved with her was so silly, why did
you do it?’

Bruce rarely squirms, but that’s what he does now. He looks down at the table cloth, as if for inspiration. Then he
looks back at me.

‘Do you want an honest answer?’

‘Yes.’

‘I like her. She’s encouraging and interested in what I do.’

‘And I’m not?’

‘No. Not really. You think
Avril’s
a load of crap, don’t
you?’

‘I never said that.’

‘But you made it pretty obvious. It’s a big, big thing for
me, Jasmine. I don’t think you quite understand that.’

‘I do understand that.’

‘Then why did you make all those withering remarks?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ve always liked being married to you, Jasmine. But when
you’re with me half of you seems to be somewhere else.’

He’s right. Oh my God he’s right.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve given that impression.’ I sigh. ‘How is
Avril
coming along anyway?’

‘We start filming in two weeks.’

‘That’s great news. Well done.’

Bruce pushes a small box towards me. I open it. It
contains a silver brooch in the shape of a cat. The cat has
diamond eyes.

‘They’re real diamonds,’ Bruce says. ‘Not fake ones.’

For a moment I’m at a loss for words. ‘Th – thank you Bruce, it’s lovely. I really like it.’ I put the brooch on.

‘Katie said you would.’

‘Katie?’

‘Yes. I went to Galway to look at some locations last week.
We chose it together. I didn’t show my appreciation of you
enough in the past, I know that now.’

And suddenly I know, I just know, Katie’s been talking to
him about positive reinforcement…and pigeons.

I wonder if I should tell him Katie thinks she might be
a lesbian, but I decide against it. As the second course is
served I wonder if I should mention my tea date with Eoin
tomorrow, but I decide against that too.

It’s funny but suddenly I’m quite enjoying this lunch. It’s
nice sitting here with Bruce, my brooch, and our second bottle
of Chilean wine. There’s a poignant, illicit feeling about it.
Bruce hasn’t been so attentive in years.

‘I always know when you’re drunk. Your face goes all
fuzzy,’ says Bruce. It’s an old joke that always makes us laugh.

Then he grows more serious. ‘Come home with me. Come
home with me right now.’

‘And what’ll we do when we get there? Watch
Teletubbies?
’

‘I have something rather different in mind.’

Bruce can be very sexy when he wants to be. His voice gets
a bit husky and his eyes grow dark and tender. It’s been so
long now. It would be nice to be held close. The anger would make it exciting. Yes, it would be nice to thrash around again
under our big duvet. To fuck. To forget.

And then the image of the fake diamond hair grip swims
before me. It’s lying there, stuck into a peach coloured
pillowcase, just like the day I found it.

‘I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing!’ I get up and fling down my napkin. ‘Have you no sensitivity at all?’