To Have and to Hold (18 page)

“I’ve only managed the first couple of pages. Every time I try to start something distracts me. I really must make the time.”

“What about bedtime?”

“This country air knocks me out. By the time I actually go to bed I’m so exhausted my head hits the pillow and bam! I’m out.”

Emily pauses. “Alice, I know this sounds like a silly question, but where’s Joe?”

“What do you mean, where’s Joe?”

“I mean you just never seem to talk about him anymore.”

Alice shrugs. “What’s there to say? He’s in the city during the week and down here on the weekends.”

“So do you miss him when he’s in the city?”

Alice thinks for a minute. “I definitely miss having company, but I’m so busy here I don’t really think about it much. I’m sort of getting used to being here on my own, although,” she adds quickly, “it is lovely when he’s back here on the weekends.”

Alice feels obligated to say that, even though it is patently untrue. She is growing accustomed to living in Highfield on her own. She buys the food she wants to eat, watches the television programs she wants to watch, and sleeps with as many blankets and comforters as she can pile on the bed.

She takes Snoop out for long walks, potters around antique shops and consignment stores, and spends hours happily restoring the house to its former glory.

Joe arrives on Friday nights. He rings her from the train, expecting her to drop whatever she’s doing and jump in the car and come and pick him up. He expects there to be a home-cooked meal waiting for him on the table, and he immediately retires to the study—the study that Alice has recently taken over—and regularly berates Alice for leaving her papers on the desk, or messing up one of his piles, or not using the computer properly.

Alice is always ready to crawl into bed by ten, but Joe stays up watching television until hours later. He insists on keeping a window open in the bedroom, even though Alice is permanently freezing, and won’t sleep with anything more than one comforter, so Alice wakes up shivering, and has to sleep in a sweatshirt
and
a camisole.

On Saturday mornings, when he disappears to play tennis, Alice feels as if she can breathe again, tensing up only when he walks back in and takes a shower, leaving soaking wet towels all over the bathroom floor, acting as if he owns the place (which of course he does, although Alice has long thought of it as “her” house and of the place in the city as “his” apartment—a deal she thinks perfectly fair).

By Sunday afternoon Alice can see that Joe is going stir-crazy. He refuses to join her and Snoop on their long walks and, other than watching television or surfing the Internet for hours, cannot seem to think of ways to fill his time.

Clearly he needs friends, needs a diversion out here, and Alice has taken to sending him into town on last-minute errands, or sending him over to Mary Beth and Tom’s to borrow a drill, hoping they’ll somehow keep him busy for a while.

The only times he seems to enjoy himself are when Gina and George are also down for the weekend, although now that winter is approaching they spend less and less time in the country.

“Oh, please come down this weekend,” Alice has pleaded laughingly on the phone.

“But it’s freezing!” Gina will say. “You keep forgetting that it’s our summer house. Not our freeze-up-and-die house.”

But those weekends spent with Gina and George, Joe is like a different person. He discusses the world of finance with George, flirts innocently with Gina, his truculence and apathy toward Alice replaced with genuine warmth and affection.

Those weekends Alice reverts back to the Alice of old. She basks in Joe’s attention and takes solace in the familiar feeling of needing to be needed. And Joe in turn welcomes back his old Alice, for Gina is nothing if not glamorous, and—much to Joe’s pleasure—Alice does tend to make more of an effort if they are spending time with Gina and George.

So when Alice tells Emily that she looks forward to Joe coming back on the weekends, it’s not entirely untrue. As long as Gina and George are there as well, she knows she’ll have a lovely time.

“Enough about me,” Alice says briskly to Emily. “Less than six weeks to go before you get here. I’m so excited! I can’t believe you’re coming!”

“God knows, neither can I. And let me tell you, we really need this holiday.”

“Is Harry excited?”

“I think so.”

“You
think
so? Don’t you
know
?”

“Of course he’s excited. I haven’t seen him much this week. I needed a bit of a break.”

Alice’s heart jumps into her mouth. “Oh no. You’re not going to break up, are you?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so. We’ve just been seeing so much of one another he was starting to drive me a bit mad and we agreed to give each other a bit of space.”

“Please don’t break up with him, Em. He’s so lovely.”

“I know, I know. I’m sure it’s just a temporary blip, and by the time we come out to see you we’ll be deliriously happy again.”

“You’re definitely both coming then?”

“Not only have we booked our tickets, they’re nonchangeable and nonrefundable, so I’d say yes, we’re definitely both coming.”

“Oh, good. And you swear you think everything will be fine by then?”

“Absolutely. We’re going out for dinner on Saturday to have a talk, and I know everything will be fine after that.”

“What are you going to talk about?”

“I think we just need to take things a bit more slowly, that’s all. I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit . . . well . . . trapped. Does that sound crazy?”

“Not in the slightest. If it’s any consolation, it’s pretty much how I feel every weekend when Joe’s at home.”

“Now that doesn’t sound good.”

“Nah. Tell me about it. Oh God. Here I am complaining again. Actually I don’t feel trapped, he just drives me a bit mad sometimes because he gets so bored, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself out here and he expects me to spoon-feed him a life.”

“And do you?”

“Nope. I’m far too busy. Speaking of which, my darling, I have to go. I’m off to my Gardeners’ Club.”

Emily starts laughing again. “Oh God. Now I really have heard everything! Alice Chambers, you are extraordinary.” And with that they say good-bye.

19

         A
lice still cannot quite believe how involved she has become in the Newcomers’ Club, and worse, how much she’s enjoying it. It is quite as horribly parochial and hokey as she had suspected, and she loves every minute of it.

December has brought a round of “cookie exchanges”—something she couldn’t quite believe really existed. All the women invited have to bake a dozen cookies, bring them to a women-only soirée together with the recipe, and leave at the end of the evening with an assortment of home-baked cookies and accompanying instructions.

The social life in suburban America seems to revolve around women. At first Alice found it odd that so many women socialized without their husbands, that when she and Joe went to parties the men would stay in one room and the women invariably in the kitchen.

Alice would whisper to Gina that she would refuse to sit in the kitchen with the women on the grounds that she is a postfeminist child of a feminist, but as time has passed Alice has found herself comforted by this new-found female solidarity, and she is increasingly grateful for this companionship that she once would have found so myopic and cloying.

Even those days and nights when Joe is in the city, Alice is never short of invitations, from lunches and dinners to movies and coffees in town. She is just as busy as she used to be in London, and yet everything is so much more relaxed than it ever used to be. Out here she never squeezes her feet into Jimmy Choos or slides one stockinged leg over the other while sitting at smart restaurant tables. Nowadays her wardrobe is almost unrecognizable, and dressing up consists of a pair of black Gap trousers and an Eddie Bauer cable-knit sweater.

Her smart clothes, and of course she still has smart clothes, are in the apartment in the city. Her Chanel and Hermès handbags are lined up in her walk-in closet, her Ralph Lauren cashmere sweaters stacked neatly by color, her Christian Louboutin heels next to her JP Tod flats.

She has learned that jeans will not do for their lifestyle in Manhattan, and, perhaps
because
she goes into the city so rarely, she has finally learned to treat the clothes and the accompanying lifestyle much like a game, has learned to enjoy dressing up and living the fast lifestyle that she once took for granted.

As Christmas approaches, Alice has spent more time in the city, buying the gifts she knows her friends and family will love. For Joe she has bought a Patek Philippe watch, one he has coveted for some time. Gina and George will be thrilled with their matching Burberry scarves, and for Emily she has a beautiful intricately beaded bag that she found in SoHo and knew Emily would adore. For Harry she has a small but perfectly formed toolbox, containing everything the carpenter on the go could possibly need.

Now she just has to wait for them to get here.

         T
he doorman buzzes the apartment at 5:10
P.M.
to let Alice know that Emily and Harry are downstairs. She had wanted to go to JFK and pick them up, but Joe, who was still in the office, said not only would the traffic be terrible, the place itself was a zoo and she’d never manage it on her own.

Instead she sent a car to collect them and told Emily and Harry to look out for a uniformed man with their names on a large square of cardboard.

Minutes after the doorman buzzes, Alice hears a familiar knocking on the apartment door. Dashing to the door, she runs straight into a grinning Emily’s arms.

They hug each other tight for what feels like hours, Harry standing back and watching them with a smile, stepping forward to give Alice a brief hug only when the girls have pulled apart. But with each step into the apartment Alice and Emily grin at each other and hug again.

“Anyone would think you two were long-lost lovers.” Harry laughs, after the fourth hug in as many minutes.

“You’re just jealous,” Emily says. “And anyway, she’s my best friend in the whole wide world and I’ve missed her.” She turns to Alice, who is trying not to let the tears trickle down her cheeks. “Do you know how much I’ve missed you?”

“About a half as much as I’ve missed you?”

“Yeah. Probably about that much. So this is home?”

“I suppose. Harry, come and I’ll show you where you’re both sleeping. You can put your bags down, and then what do you feel like doing?”

“We have to go out!” Emily says. “I can’t believe we’re
here,
in New York! What should we do? Where’s Joe? When are we going to see the other house? Where can I find the best bargains?”

Alice bursts out laughing. “One question at a time. First, Joe’s at the office and meeting us later for dinner.”

“I see some things never change.” Emily raises an eyebrow, which Alice chooses to ignore.

“We’re going to the Gramercy Tavern for dinner, so what we do first is entirely up to you. I didn’t organize anything because I didn’t know how tired you’d be, but tomorrow I thought we could go shopping in the morning, and then I’ve booked tickets for
Hairspray,
and then I thought we could either go down to the country tomorrow evening or stay in town and go down the following day.”

“Christmas Eve. Have you got your tree or are we still going to the Christmas tree farm to pick our own?” Emily laughs.

“Actually a man turned up in the driveway last week with a truck full of Christmas trees so I just picked one. I know it’s not quite as romantic.”

“But eminently more practical, I would think. At least tell me you haven’t decorated it yet.”

Alice grins. “Nope. I’ve saved the joys of decorating for the four of us on Christmas Eve. Oh, and we’ve also been invited to Sally and Chris’s for New Year’s Eve.”

“Us as well?”

“Of course you as well. Sally can’t wait to meet you. Unfortunately it won’t be very festive on Christmas Day, it’s just us, but I’m doing a proper lunch.”

“The whole bit? Turkey and trimmings?”

“Of course! Actually they don’t do that here, they do all that stuff at Thanksgiving, but Christmas isn’t Christmas without a turkey.”

“And chipolatas?”

“Of course!”

Harry turns from the window and smiles at Alice. “Emily kept saying you’d turned into a country bumpkin, and here you are looking just as glamorous as the last time I saw you. I was expecting wellies and an anorak.”

“I said she’d turned into a bumpkin,” Emily tuts. “Not Worzel Gummidge, for God’s sake. But meanwhile”—she turns to face Alice—“I have to say I agree with Harry. I thought you said you never wore makeup anymore and you lived in jeans. Look at you, Miss High Heels and Cashmere Sweater.”

“I swear to God I only dress like this in Manhattan. Just you wait.”

Emily walks over to join Harry at the window, and they both look up at the sky. “So what do you think?” Emily turns to Alice. “Is it going to snow? You said last week they were predicting it might snow. Are we going to have a white Christmas?”

“They said it might, although it’s more likely to happen after Christmas Day. All the locals say they dread the snow, and I can’t tell them that I go to bed every night praying for it. Now. On to more practical issues. What do you want to do before dinner?”

Harry suppresses a yawn. “I know I’m being a wimp, but I’m bloody exhausted. Would you mind if I had a sleep?” He’s clearly struggling to keep his eyes open, and Emily is quick to hustle him into the bedroom.

“Good,” she whispers when she comes back out. “I’ve been dying to see you by myself. Shall we go out and get a coffee? I can’t believe I’m in New York with my best friend! Come here and give me another hug!”

“
T
wo grande skim lattes.” Alice squeezes in next to Emily in the corner table in Starbucks.

“Thanks, Ali. So you promise that bag shop will still be open on the way back?”

“I promise. Don’t worry, you’ll still be able to indulge your compulsive shopaholism. Bags.” Alice shakes her head. “I don’t know. You’ve only been in New York a minute and already you’re itching to spend money.”

Emily sighs. “I know it’s dreadful. I’m clearly a horrible person.”

“So tell me everything. Tell me how it’s all worked out with Harry. You seem happy again. I know you told me on the phone, but it’s always so rushed and we never seem to talk properly. So tell me now.”

“He
is
lovely . . .” Emily starts. And stops. “I mean really, he’s just the nicest man I’ve met.”

“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?”

Emily grimaces. “There’s always a but. The but is . . . actually it’s not even him, it’s me.”

“He’s too nice, isn’t he?”

“Oh God, Ali, that’s why I love you and that’s why I need you. You know me better than anyone else. Why, oh why, am I so ridiculous? Why is this a problem? But yes, that’s it. He’s just too bloody nice to me and I’m bored.” With that Emily’s eyes widen, and she claps her hands over her mouth. “Oh, shit. I can’t believe I just said that.”

“I can’t believe you just said that either. Emily, most women I know would kill to find a man like Harry. He’s kind, he’s funny, he loves animals, and he adores you.
I’d
kill to find a man like Harry, for Christ’s sake.”

“So how
are
things with Joe then?”

“Uh-uh. You’re not changing the subject that easily. I’m serious, Emily.” Emily folds her arms across her chest like a disgruntled teenager and looks down at her shoes. “He’s wonderful. How can you be bored?”

Emily makes a pained face. “I know this sounds terrible, but I’m sure if he was a bit more of a bastard I could fall in love with him.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I know, I know. It’s dreadful. I am a disgusting person, but if he’s ever a bit off with me, or doesn’t call when he says he’s going to, or I think he might be flirting with someone else, then suddenly I’m interested again.”

“Emily, that’s sick. That’s all your
stuff.
You should go and see someone.”

“Someone like a therapist?” Alice nods as Emily shakes her head with a shrug. “Nah, couldn’t afford it even if I wanted to.”

“But, Em, you can’t possibly pass up what will probably turn out to be the greatest man you’ll ever meet because of your own crappy baggage.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “That’s why I can’t break up with him. Because I do think he’ll probably be the greatest man I’ll ever meet, and because I keep hoping that one day I’m going to wake up and be madly in love with him.”

“You know, Em, marriage isn’t everything we’re led to believe it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we’re told it’s supposed to be this huge great overwhelming passion, and that we’re supposed to look for our soul mate, our other half, but it’s actually pretty damn mundane.”

“Mundane?”

Alice sighs. “Well, yes, mundane. It’s just that after a while all the excitement goes, and what you really want to be left with is someone who is a really good person and who adores you, and who you can grow old with. I know the bastards are exciting, but they don’t make good husband material. Trust me.”

Emily doesn’t ask her how she knows. She doesn’t need to.

“You know what, Em? Sometimes I wish I hadn’t fallen quite so head-over-heels with Joe. Sometimes I think I might have been better off with someone more like Harry.”

“But I remember when you first got married. Okay, it might have faded a bit now, but you were so in love you could hardly see straight. I want to feel like that, I
should
feel like that with the man I’m going to marry.”

Alice shakes her head. “No! That’s not what it’s about. That heady exciting stuff just blinds you to what’s real. And what’s real is Harry. I think he’s perfect for you. I think he’d make you happy, you could forge a loving and lasting union with him.”

“But I’m bored,” Emily whispers furiously. “I’m bored, Alice. Everything’s so predictable, I never get excited by anything anymore. You can’t tell me that’s a good thing. And if you do I won’t believe you. If you were to tell me that, then I’d have to assume you made a terrible mistake in marrying the love of your life.”

Alice is silent.

“So?” Emily persists. “Did you make a mistake?”

“Of course not,” Alice says quickly. “That’s ridiculous. I love Joe and he’s a wonderful husband, but men like Harry are few and far between. I just don’t want you to break up with him then spend the rest of your life regretting it.”

“Who said anything about breaking up?”

“It sounded like you were on the verge of shoving him out the door.”

“No. That’s the problem. I’ve thought about it so many times, but every time I do something stops me because he is a lovely guy and, as I said”—she shrugs—“I keep hoping I’m going to fall in love with him.”

“Do you think it was wise, to bring him here?”

“Yup. I have a feeling this holiday may well turn out to be make-or-break.”

“Oh, thanks.” Alice rolls her eyes. “And here was I planning a lovely, relaxing Christmas in the country, and now I discover it could be tears all round.”

Emily laughs. “Nope, there won’t be tears. Actually we had a lovely flight, so who knows, America could be just what we need to get our relationship back on track and fall in love. Although . . .”

“Although what?”

“Although there kind of is . . .”

“What?”

Emily grimaces. “Well, the thing is I’ve kind of met . . .”

“Oh, no.” Alice’s voice is stern. “You’ve met someone else?”

Emily seems to shrink in acknowledgment.

“Emily, that’s awful.”

“It’s not as awful as it sounds. I mean, I haven’t done anything. Actually I don’t even know if he’s interested, although I think he might be. But I’ve found myself incredibly attracted to this man, and that’s what’s really set this whole thing off.”

“But, Emily, just because you’re with someone doesn’t mean you stop being attracted to other people. It’s a question of choice.”

“For you maybe, but you’ve been married for over five years. We haven’t even reached a year, so don’t tell me it’s normal to really fancy other men.”

Alice sighs. After all, Emily does have a point. “So who is he?”