The Art of Unpacking Your Life (18 page)

‘I'm sorry, Connie. I didn't want to tell you.'

She shook her head vigorously to signal to him that she was okay, though clearly she wasn't.

Luke tried to make sense of it all, if only for her benefit. ‘I am partly to blame.'

‘Don't be ridiculous, Luke.' She sounded uncharacteristically vehement.

‘I didn't love her. But I said I did. It wasn't the truth. I couldn't share my feelings with her. She hurt me to get a reaction from me.'

‘What did she do?' Connie's voice was small.

Luke hesitated. The details were incredibly intimate, like sex. How wrong was that. ‘Connie, I'm not sure that I want tell you.'

‘What did she do, Luke.' It was no longer a question.

‘She hit me with things,' he paused. Luke ran his hands over his forehead. ‘With china, heavy books, furniture legs, stone pots, even a drawer from a wardrobe.'

He added that last detail in the hope it would sound light-hearted, but he hadn't realised how hurt he would be all over again, speaking about it out loud.

Her arms enveloped him. ‘Badly?'

He nodded. Pain was complicated. He stared at the palms of his hands. ‘Internal bleeding, punctured bladder and stitches everywhere. The worst scars are on my back. It's a mess.' He looked up at Connie. She was watching him. He felt brave. ‘She didn't want anyone to know, which is why she saved my face.' He smiled to give her relief.

Connie ran a hand gently down his cheek. He took her hand and held it.

‘My head still pounds all the time,' he paused. ‘I started running to regain ownership of my body. It does make me feel better.'

‘I want to see your back.'

‘Connie.' He looked up confused and scared of her reaction.

‘I want to see what she did to you.'

He shook his head, trying to laugh it off. She kept her solemn eyes on him.

He stalled. ‘I think that you are a little drunk, darling. I know I am.'

‘I've totally sobered up.' She squeezed her arms even more tightly round him. ‘And I want to see what she did to you.'

Men stared at him in the changing room at the gym. He had avoided the pool at Gae, wondering who would be the first to ask him why he didn't want to sunbathe, or even dip into the pool in this heat.

She held his face in her hands. ‘Everyone's in bed. Take your shirt off.'

Luke was terrified and aroused. Everything was complicated in his head. He wanted to scream. He had never cried, even when Emma had burnt him with her
cigarette. A tear appeared. He hastily wiped it away with the base of his wrist. This was his cue to go to bed, take some more codeine and knock himself out. Forget it all.

‘I'm going to crash, Connie.' He didn't stop to linger, or risk kissing her goodnight. He headed towards the door without saying a proper goodbye. He expected her to get up with him. She didn't, nor did she watch him go. He got halfway down the path and stopped. He crept back to look at her. She was staring out across the bar. Luke walked away.

Connie didn't want to move. Her physical control made her calmer. She was absorbing the pain Emma had inflicted on Luke, and the pain she herself had undoubtedly inflicted on Luke. Less visible, but deep-rooted.

Julian met her at Paddington station for their first date, which was great because it was busy and she was slightly overwhelmed. They went on the Underground to Victoria. He walked with her on the inside of the pavement to a French restaurant in Pimlico. She talked too much, which was liberating. She didn't need to try to express herself with Luke, because he understood her totally.

Julian made it clear from the start that he had a gut instinct about Connie, which he intended to follow. She found that extraordinary. He was so certain. He told her funny stories about Conservative Central Office and about the constituents in the seat where he was volunteering. He kept up a steady flow of humorous anecdotes. He shared his hopes for his career in politics and why he wanted to be a politician. He was generous – he ordered an incredibly expensive bottle of wine – solicitous – insisting
they move from their table near the door when she started shivering – and bashfully charming – he bought her flowers at the station before she left. She was flattered when he didn't kiss her. Instead he declared he loved her. Did she fall for him simply because of that difference? She slept with Luke after the first formal dinner; Luke never said he loved her, though he certainly did. Julian's vocal certainty guaranteed Connie's. Luke didn't stand a chance.

When she got back to Harley Place at one in the morning, she stumbled up to their room, fully expecting Luke to be there. She was shocked by the half-empty room. She had never been quite sure whether it was Julian or Luke who forced the situation.

At the time, she didn't care. She fell for Julian easily and willingly. He was charming, expressive and attentive. He gave her a sense of direction. How could she know if she fell for Julian, because he was utterly different from Luke?

If Luke had declared his love, fought to keep her, she would undoubtedly have stayed, have married him and had children with him. It would have prevented the scars that they both shamefully hid from sight.

A loud noise. Connie rolled over. Julian was snoring. She closed her eyes again. A thudding sound was coming from their sitting room. She panicked. Perhaps some kind of antelope had got inside? She stumbled out of bed. The banging was coming from the other side of their front door. Had they overslept? It was still dark. Her feet flinched from cold on stone floor blasted by the air-conditioning. She fumbled with the vast iron key attached to an equally vast wooden key ring carved into a rhino head. She managed to heave the door open. Dan was luminous in the dark in steel grey boxer shorts and a white T-shirt. He held up Matt, though she would have imagined it was a physical impossibility. Matt's shoulders were slumped forward, parallel to his waist.

She reached for him. It had to be the baby. She took him in her arms as she did with her children when a crisis shrank them back down to needy toddlers. Matt allowed them to lead him to the sofa. They placed him down gently. He didn't speak. The noise he was making was eerie. It was hard to believe that it wasn't coming from outside on the reserve.

‘Dan?' she looked anxiously at him for answers.

He spoke gently. ‘I don't know exactly, but Dawn was rushed into hospital for an emergency C-section last night.'

She nodded. They were both silent, sandwiched on either side of Matt, trying to relieve his pain by shouldering his bulk. He was wailing in anguish.

‘Katherine?' she mouthed to Dan over his hunched body.

‘I don't know. He banged on my door.'

‘Matt,' she tried to lift his shoulders. Failing that, she lifted his head holding his face in her hands. His cheeks were red hot. ‘Please, Matt, talk to us.'

Matt's face was scrunched up; his fingers dug mercilessly into his palms, as if he was trying to transfer his internal pain outside of himself. ‘Isobel, Isobel.' Once he started, he seemed unable to stop. ‘Isobel.'

‘Isobel?' Connie asked quietly, deeply disturbed to see Matt cry.

‘We were going to call her Isobel.' He looked down at his clenched hands, shaking his head vigorously. ‘She was stillborn.'

They didn't move. Tears came to Connie's eyes, and she and Dan squeezed Matt, both equally determined to hold him together. No one spoke. Matt was numb, shivering and slumped. Connie gently extricated her arm and reached across to the other sofa and grabbed the throw. She wrapped it round Matt's shoulders. He leant back against it. They moved to the edge of the sofa to allow him to lie down. He curled up into the foetal position. His eyes closed. They stood up. Dan gestured her towards the terrace. The air was starting to warm up, even though it was pitch black.

‘It's awful,' Connie mouthed. ‘Poor Dawn, can you imagine. The pain she must feel, poor woman.'

‘Horrendous,' Dan sighed. ‘I'm worried for Matt. How can he cope with another divorce?'

‘Do you think that Katherine will leave him?' Connie was horrified. She hadn't thought about that.

‘Well, I don't know. What do you think?'

‘He's got to tell Katherine the news first. Or maybe we ought to tell Katherine. For Matt's sake.'

Connie didn't respond. They were in no rush to face Katherine. Connie wanted to savour the easy silence that she had with Dan for a moment. When she turned to face the sitting room, the sofa was empty. She looked at Dan. ‘Should we find him?'

Dan shook his head. ‘He would have said if he wanted us to be around. You know what Matt's like. Sometimes he just needs to work things out on his own.'

Connie was struck by Dan's insight. She squeezed his arm. ‘What about a cup of tea?'

He nodded. They sat in silence while the kettle on top of the minibar boiled.

Finally Dan spoke. ‘It's an awful thing to happen, but at least they are here with us on this amazing holiday.' He reached for her hand. ‘It is great being together again.'

Connie tentatively added, ‘And Alan?'

‘He prefers Ibiza.'

They both laughed.

After a moment Dan sighed. ‘Connie, I don't think that it makes any difference whether we are in south-east London or the Kalahari. Except being with you all gives me the courage to move my life forward. Alan doesn't want us to have a more grown-up life. He's an overgrown teenager.'

Connie handed Dan a cup of tea and sat beside him on the sofa. She moved her arm gently on to his shoulder.

‘I'm not sure what exactly it means, “moving my life forward”, except that I want to feel more settled somehow.'

Connie smiled encouragingly.

‘Do you know what I think I want to do…' he paused, qualifying it. ‘Well, I'm wondering…'

She nodded again.

‘I want to leave London. Buy this land in Tuscany,' his sharp eyes scanned her face. ‘I want to create real roots, grow things on my own land. For myself, not just for rich clients.'

‘What a brilliant idea.'

He paused, ‘I thought that we could sell the house easily. Of course, we'd need to raise a lot of money. It's seven hundred thousand pounds without even the cash to do it up. It's derelict.'

Connie wondered whether she could leave London, move permanently to their cottage in Oxfordshire, or abroad? She never thought about it. This holiday was the most adventurous thing she had done for twenty years. Of course, there had been the dark side of her marriage. But she believed that what drew them together was greater than what pushed them apart. Despite Julian's flings, they were side by side at the heart of their family, involved with each of their children. They were a strong, confident clan. However many quick fixes he had, he would never share that kind of relationship with someone else: the joy of having children together and the intimacy it nurtured. She had this unbreakable bond with Julian, which sustained their love against regular assault.

Thinking about Matt and Katherine was a timely reminder of how lucky she was. Did it matter that Sally was leaving? The children were growing up, but at least she had them in her life. Her empty nest worries were petty. First world problems.

Dan watched her. ‘Are you all right, Connie?'

‘Yes. I have my family. When I look at Matt's situation, I realise that I'm so spoilt.' She paused. ‘And Luke's…'

Dan didn't pick up on Luke. Connie was thankful.

‘I don't know, Connie,' Dan said slowly, ‘You work hard at it, even though you make it look easy.'

‘Do I? Well that's good.' She thought of his idea again. It was the perfect plan for him. Dan loved space, nature and a simple life. She knew he was waiting for her to ask the obvious question.

‘What does Alan think about Tuscany?'

‘Well, I haven't talked to him about it. Yet.' Connie could see his effort to look cheery. ‘I wanted to try the idea out on you first.' He lent forward and squeezed both her hands tightly. ‘I value your opinion Connie.'

Yet again tonight, she felt appreciated and nurtured by her close friends in a way that Julian never did.

Matt watched Katherine sleep. She was beautiful. She had an ethereal grace that English women, in his limited experience, couldn't rival. His eyes followed the fine line of her pale jaw from her towering cheekbones down to her fulsome mouth. Her eyes were unnervingly half-open when she slept, glinting at him.

He was numb and drained, but calm. His utter devastation had bestially burst out of him. He was thankful it exploded with Connie and Dan. Whatever the outcome of the conversation he was about to have with Katherine, he was going to be okay. He had friends, best friends. He didn't want to wake her, to break this beautiful peace with her hysteria and accusations. Yet there was a cruel side of him that wanted her to experience some of the pain that he had endured over the last twenty-four hours.

‘Katherine.' He touched her lightly on her left arm, which was exposed in all its fragility on top of the sheet. ‘Katherine. Please wake up.'

Her eyes sprung open, though she didn't move. His stomach lurched. He didn't feel strong enough to take her on. She focused on him, trying to get her bearings.

She gently moved her hand into his, ‘Are you all right?'

The unexpected gentleness of this moment unnerved him. His tears burst from him, water falling down his cheeks. He shook his head vigorously. He didn't want to tell her yet. He wanted to suspend their life from the next stage for a few moments more.

Katherine sat up and, in one easy flowing gesture, hugged him tightly round his neck. ‘Oh, Matt.'

Matt couldn't believe it. She simply held him tightly. His fear overtook his grief. She didn't understand what had happened. He had to tell her. He pushed her away. He couldn't order his thoughts into sentences.