Polly (30 page)

Polly can't quite see that a relationship oughtn't to be constructed by plots and schemes. She had duped herself that her cleverly hatched plan was essential to the survival and progression of her partnership with Max. Never did she consider that this very strategy, intended, albeit deludedly, as a secret olive branch to herself, could ultimately detonate and destruct the very thing it was supposed to nurture.

I don't understand. I'm so tired, I can't sleep.

Yes you do and yes you can.

See, she's fallen asleep in a crumple by the patio doors. She'll wake at two in the morning and drag herself to her bed, just about managing to kick away her shoes before collapsing, unwashed and dazed, fully clothed, on the naked mattress.

This time three days ago was when I caught them.

Though she woke early, Polly was alert and felt utterly in control. Her thought process, though rapid, was at last lucid and constructive; the conclusions she drew upon, logical and reasonable. She had conversations with herself, sitting demurely on her settee. In lengthy rehearsals in front of the mirror, she envisaged what she might say to Max, practising the inflections she'd use and the correspondingly appropriate facial expressions.

‘Zoe,' she said aloud at lunch-time, looking out to the patio, ‘I asked her if she felt four things – rejected, cross, insecure and untrusting.'

Buster wound himself around her legs and butted her shins as if to say ‘And? And?'

Polly heaved him into her arms, squeezed him hard until he protested. She apologized to him but deposited him beside the catflap, giving a shove to his reluctant flank until he grumbled his way outside.

‘I
rejected
Max,' Polly continued to herself alone, ‘and felt
cross
with him for being – well, for not being Chip, I suppose.
I
made
him
insecure and untrusting.' She pressed her cheek against the patio door and then knocked her forehead against it. ‘All of this is of my own making.'

She went to the bathroom and sat with her back to the bath, a towel wrapped around her knees.

‘Heed Kate's words – I must remember: heed Kate's words. HKW. HKW,' she chanted. ‘She told me – no she
warned
me that it should be a guilty, precious, sacred secret that neither revenge, a fight nor the passing of time must allow me to reveal.'

She felt desperately lonely.

This is when you need family. Who do I have?

Megan – in lieu of the Fyfields, she came closest. Polly dialled her number.

‘'Sme.'

‘Hullo you.'

‘You free?'

‘Er. Yes. Er. Sure.'

‘Yes? Sure?'

‘Dom's here – but we can chat.'

‘Oh. No no, don't worry, I'm fine.'

‘You OK?'

‘Fine fine.'

‘Tomorrow?'

‘Yes yup.'

Polly replaced the handset and cried hard, holding her cheeks and rocking.

Bitch, doesn't she care? Not even Megan? It's because of another bloody Fyfield. Can't she see how I'm so alone? That she's all I have? I bet she knew all along about Max and That Carter Person. I've been duped.

‘Well, I've had a total shag fest myself, actually,' she cried out loud, hearing instantly how pathetic she sounded.

Tit for tat. That's stupid. What are her tits like? Better than mine?

She knew it was self-pity, that she was currently a snivelling wreck in creased clothes with red-rimmed eyes and lank, dull hair who'd eaten little but junk food at odd hours. Strangely, to feel so wounded and alone was actually rather cathartic.

Where is he? Why hasn't he at least rung? He doesn't want me, does he?

Buster came by, but for the first time Polly stretched out her leg to keep him at bay.

I'm terrified of the future because I have no idea how it will be. I always took care to know, practically organize, the immediate, the short-term, the long-term future. I always thought of things as phases and because I believed in the future I knew they would pass. But I'm caught here, I'm slap bang in the thick of it. I can't see out and I can't see beyond.

Later, in the early hours of the fourth morning, Polly sat up in bed and felt a wave of exhilaration course through her blood.

‘Of course!' she exclaimed in a whisper. ‘Forgiveness, capital F! Hurray! Yes indeedy! I – Forgive – Max. I forgive you, darling boy. Now let's get on with things, greet the day and welcome the future. It's easy – as soon as he knows I've forgiven him, we can move on. I must let him know. It's time.'

Will Max forgive you?

Polly?

Have you even atoned?

‘P
olly? Max here.'

‘Hullo.'

‘We need to talk.'

‘'Kay.'

That was it, in its entirety. A telephone call of less than sixty seconds on the fifth morning. Two lines each. Twelve minutes ago. A total of nine words.

This time fifteen minutes ago we hadn't yet spoken
, reasons Polly as she attempts to eat a banana,
and he'll be here in forty-eight minutes' time – an hour minus the twelve minutes just past, you see.

She throws the banana away, spitting out the chunk that she put in her mouth. She gags.

Why did he say ‘Max here'? Why did he have to introduce himself? As if he was talking to someone he didn't know very well.

Polly feels panicky, she shuffles back from the kitchen to the sitting-room, a little hunched.

I only said two words. ‘Hullo' and “Kay'. I should have said more. Maybe I should quickly phone him and say some more. Let him know everything's OK, all is forgiven.

She stares at the phone and is rendered unable to do anything but sit, hugging herself, for the next fifty-one minutes.

He's late. Bastard.

At first, Max and Polly found it difficult to look at each other directly; afraid of both what they might see and what they might not see – in case they saw what was missing, for fear of seeing what might be no longer there at all. But when Max snuck a long look at the back of Polly as she boiled the kettle for unwanted but politely accepted coffee, he brimmed with an emotion so raw and painful that he choked and shivered. Similarly, when Polly caught sight of his legs she let her gaze linger, as if it rested on nothing in particular, while she was overwhelmed by the knowledge that she loved this man and what on earth could she – was she – to do about it?

‘I think we should take time out.'

No no no! Not that. You didn't just say that, Max. ‘Time Out'? What? The phrase is too American for you. So you didn't just say it. You didn't mean it.

‘What?'

‘Polly – I think we need some space. Don't you?'

No no.

‘No no.'

‘I think you do.'

‘I don't, Max. I don't. Everything will be fine. I forgive you – everything. I just want it to be like, to be like. Just – be. Don't look at me like that.'

‘Look, I just feel we need time apart to work out why what happened happened. You cannot forgive me so easily, or so quickly.'

‘I can – believe me, I just can.'

‘Polly – how on earth can you? I went with another woman.'

He's looking at me like I'm an idiot. He seems irritated with me. Mustn't sound desperate.

‘Doesn't matter how, I just can. It doesn't matter – honestly. What happened. Doesn't matter.'

She's not thinking straight. And she must.

‘Yes, but it
does,
Polly. In five years, my eyes had never wandered – let alone my affection. Certainly not my hands. Never my commitment. I never even
wondered
. Certainly never desired. And suddenly I'm having sex with another woman.'

Don't say that. You don't sound like Max. I don't want to hear.

‘There's something behind it, Polly – come
on.
You've been different too. There's something there. Or something not there. I don't know. And that's what we need to ascertain.'

Heed Kate's Words.

‘No no. Doesn't matter, darling boy. Forgive and forget. I can do it, Max. Done it.'

‘How
can
you forgive me so easily.'

HKW.

‘Because I want to.'

‘Why?'

HKW. HKW.

‘Because.'

‘Because what?'

‘Nothing.'

‘What do you mean “nothing”?' Max said, the irritation in his voice loud and clear.

‘I mean I understand. And everything. So, let's just move on.'

‘How
can
you understand? Hey?'

Heed Kate's Words. Heed Kate's Words. Heed them. Hard.

‘Nothing.'

‘But Polly –
I
can't move on. Not yet. I'm sorry. I don't believe in your forgiveness. Just yet. I'm sorry.'

‘Max. Max.'

‘Don't cry. Please don't cry. It doesn't help.'

‘But I want to marry you, Max. And you me. You said so. You asked.'

‘Maybe it was rash. I mean, all of this has happened only since marriage has been mooted.'

‘Stop it. You sound so – hard.'

‘I'm having to be, Butt— Polly. There's no way I'm going to marry you, feeling like this – about myself, about us. Absolutely no way.'

‘What. Are. You saying?'

‘I'm saying that we need time apart.'

‘No we
don't
.'

‘Polly. Jesus. I
need
time apart. Space. I
don't
want to be with you just now. I can't. I
want
to be on my own for a while. Without you. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry if you think I'm a bastard. I'm not. I think it's for the best.'

‘What can I say? Can't I say something? Do something?'

‘Nothing, actually.'

‘Nothing?'

‘No.'

Please don't say no.

What did they look like as they spoke? What did they do?

Max sat still and looked at Polly directly, scouring her face and trying to lock on to her darting, smarting eyes. Polly fidgeted; changed position on the settee, sat cross-legged on the floor, fiddled with the rim of her sock, scrutinized the freckle pattern on her left arm, paced over to the patio door and pressed her body against it. As Max made to leave, he kissed Polly's forehead and told her that, believe it or not, he loved her. She tried to hurl her body against his, to hold on tight for ever and ever, to make the moment last, to make him stay. But Max held her wrists and kept her from him, keeping his lips against her forehead all the while. His eyes closed throughout, not that Polly could see. She tried to make Max hold her hand. Max merely allowed her hand to rest over his. He couldn't hold hers, he didn't dare; he'd never let go if he did.

Max realizes that he has to let go. He sees how he and Polly have drifted until just their fingertips have been touching, and then not all the time. He realizes how easy it had been for him to have been pulled away. By Jen, though might it have been by whomever? Led to somewhere different. He thinks he probably would like to be back with Polly but he knows it will entail a journey. He needs to rest a while, to prepare. Find a map. A compass.

Polly thinks it's an easy, logical solution to forgive Max. We know that repenting and atoning for her own actions will be far more difficult. Therein lies the key – until she has, there is no way Max can believe in her forgiveness. It strikes her too that he has not formally apologized for his own actions and, though she is relieved that he is not blaming himself, and though she firmly believes it is indirectly her crime, her fault, that caused him to stray, she is worried by it too.

Did she drive him away?

Did he enjoy it?

Does he want to do it again?

Is that what he wants?

Maybe not Jen specifically – but there again, not Polly either?

Belsize Park

8th April

Darling Megan,

Please don't think me a coward for writing rather than phoning or visiting. Well, maybe I am a coward but I feel, for the first time in my life, an overwhelming need for space and distance. How odd, when I am at my most lonely, most aware of how alone I am in the world, I have also an insatiable need to be on my own. I was horrified when Max came to me this morning and asked for the same. But, a few hours and many tears later, reluctantly I suppose I can see some sort of sense in it.

I am acutely aware of your blossoming relationship with Dominic and am terrified that my current situation might make you, or him, or you both, back off. Please don't. I adore you both and want only for your happiness.

I can't write. I'd only ramble on. Anyway, I have a plane to catch. I'm going back to the States early. I don't think I really want to but I wouldn't trust myself not to pester Max if I remain in London. Here, the pain of him being so near yet so far is hideously intense. So, I'm off.

I want him, Megan, of that I'm sure. At the mo', though, he doesn't know quite what he wants. That hurts. I really don't want him to be hurting. But I really can't bear the thought of him not wanting me.

I'll be in touch. Promise. Love me, Meg, have faith in me and keep your fingers crossed for me. Hey?

Polly

PS. Could you look after Buster till term starts?

Belsize Park

8th April

Dear Dom,

You know me well. You know what I mean.

Making your brother happy for the rest of his days will be my life's ambition. Promise. Believe me.

Polly

Megan showed Dominic Polly's letter to her. He read it, he absorbed it. He couldn't not let Megan see Polly's letter to him.