Turning Thirty (31 page)

‘It is,' I confirmed cheerfully. ‘It is. There was a brief spell when we were twenty-two when it was all systems go for two weekends on the trot but . . . yes, I think this is a world record.'

‘Anyway,' continued Gershwin, ‘they'll say all this stuff, then tomorrow they'll split up. She'll carry on with Ian and he'll carry on with Australia and everything will carry on as normal until the next time their paths cross.'

‘Thank you for your cynicism, Gershwin,' I said, with a grin. ‘And under normal circumstances I would, without a doubt, agree with you, were it not for the fact that by this time tomorrow Ginny will be seeing the person formally known as her boyfriend to give him a well-prepared dear John speech.'

‘She's getting rid of Ian?' said Gershwin incredulously. ‘But I like Ian. He was really funny on my birthday. Zoë's friends Davina and Tom have been going on about him for ages.'

‘Cheers,' I replied curtly.

‘Come on, Matt. You must agree that he's ideal boyfriend material. Much better than you, mate.'

Zoë looked at me curiously. ‘As I haven't known you since you were eleven I'll refrain from disparaging you too much, Matt, but even I can see the holes in that plan. I mean, what about Australia, for instance?'

‘I haven't worked out all the details yet but I'm not going. I can get a job here in England easily enough. I might not be on as much money as I was in the States or if I'd gone to Australia but it'll be enough.'

‘And you'd live where, exactly?'

‘I don't know.' I shrugged. ‘Wherever. We haven't really sorted that out either.'

‘And yet Ginny's splitting up with Ian?' said Zoë. She paused. ‘He's married, isn't he?'

I attempted to deny this.

‘Don't lie, Matt,' said Zoë determinedly. Her voice and manner changed. Everything about her suddenly became sharp and anxious. ‘It all adds up now. They don't live together. He turned up late to meet her at the pub on Gershwin's birthday. Gershwin told me they see each other irregularly, which seems strange considering how long they've been together. He didn't mind when you moved into Ginny's. He pulled out of that party in London at the last minute.'

‘Is Zoë right?' asked Gershwin. ‘Is Ian married?'

‘Yeah,' I confessed, ‘he is.' And, starting from the beginning, I told them everything I knew. In a way I was relieved that this was coming out into the open. Gershwin and Zoë listened carefully but as I continued speaking I could see that Zoë was becoming more and more upset.

‘Has he got any children?' asked Zoë, when I'd finished.

‘Yeah.' I nodded. ‘A little boy.'

No one reacted to that.

The atmosphere was immediately uncomfortable. I tried to change the subject and Gershwin got the film he had rented out of its box and slotted it into the video. We'd barely got past the credits when Zoë, who hadn't said a word since my revelation, left the room abruptly. Gershwin went after her and was gone for over a quarter of an hour. When he came back downstairs, he grabbed his coat, handed me mine and we left the house, heading in the direction of the Kings Arms.

‘I suppose you're wondering what was wrong with Zoë?'

I nodded.

‘And how she guessed Ian was married?'

I nodded again.

‘She's sensitive to it I suppose,' said Gershwin, his voice drained of emotion. ‘Because about three years ago I had an affair too.'

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd been best man at his wedding. I'd seen how happy they were.

‘I promise you, Matt,' he continued, ‘I never stopped loving Zoë, not for a second. I know this is no excuse but I just started doubting myself. I had no confidence in myself and no idea where I was going. I hated work more than anything. Zoë kept telling me I should leave and do something I really wanted as soon as she went back to work. She kept telling me that we'd manage somehow, but I couldn't see it – especially when it was easier just to put up with it than do something about it. I took the easy way out. I got on well with Kay – one of the senior administrators at work – and confided in her. We began an affair. It lasted about six months.'

‘Did Zoë find out about it?'

‘No, I almost wish she had – it would've been easier. I ended it. I couldn't stand the guilt. I couldn't stand not liking myself. Zoë and Charlotte are my family and I let them down, Matt. Zoë's never once given me an excuse not to love her. Even now I can't believe I'd ever do anything that would mean I'd risk losing them. I ended it all with Kay and told Zoë everything. I know I could have got away without telling her but she deserved better than that.'

‘What happened then?' I said, stunned.

‘We split up.'

‘You and Zoë split up? How come you didn't tell me any of this?'

‘You were in London at the time. We barely saw each other and when we did it never seemed like the right time. It wasn't your fault. It was just the way things were.'

‘Look,' I began, ‘I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were going through all that and I wasn't there for you.'

‘It's okay,' he said, and gave me a smile that acknowledged what I was trying to say, in spite of my difficulty in expressing it. ‘I ended up moving back in with my mum and dad for about five months,' he continued. ‘It was awful, Matt. Zoë was crying all the time, the doctor had her on anti-depressants, I almost destroyed her. I can't bring myself to think what effect this was having on Charlotte. I thought we were going to lose everything . . .' He cleared his throat. ‘I wouldn't have blamed her for a second if she'd wanted a divorce. But all the time we were going through it she kept telling me how much she loved me. And she did, Matt. She really did. It was hard, sometimes almost impossible, but we worked through it. She saved us. She saved me.'

‘So things are okay now?'

Gershwin shrugged.' Yes and no. Sometimes it's like it never happened and others it's like it happened yesterday.'

‘I don't know what to say,' I began. ‘I really don't.'

‘There's nothing to say. I got myself into a mess. It was all my fault I let myself down.'

‘Listen, Matt,' said Gershwin, at about a quarter to ten, ‘it's getting late and I think I ought to be getting home.'

‘Yeah, of course,' I replied, putting on my jacket. ‘Home.'

‘Right, then,' said Gershwin, once we were outside. ‘I'm off.' He looked at me. ‘Thanks.'

‘What for?'

‘For being a mate,' he said.

‘Same to you,' I said. ‘Are you going to be okay?'

‘Yeah, of course,' he said confidently. ‘But never mind me, are you all right? I know I've been treating this thing between you and Ginny as a bit of a joke, but I do know how much she means to you. So, well, what I suppose I'm trying to say is good luck for tomorrow. I hope it all goes well for you.'

‘Cheers,' I replied. ‘But, whatever happens, I know I'll be all right.'

On the way back to Ginny's my head was still spinning with Gershwin's revelation. I'd tried to remind myself that it was ridiculous to be shocked when the history of civilisation is littered with examples of events that nobody had thought would ever happen. But I really had been surprised to discover that Gershwin had cheated on Zoë, that Ginny was in a relationship with a married man, that Elliot had died . . . yet stuff happens whether you like it or not and the older you get the more stuff happens. As a life lesson it seemed a little obvious, really – childish, almost.

By the time I reached Ginny's I felt as if I hadn't been living in the real world at all. I'd gone through life with all these expectations – fulfilling job with decent pay, good friends, a nice house, a relationship that didn't suck – but what were they except fantasies that only turn into reality for a tiny minority of people? Growing up with Gershwin, Ginny, Elliot, Bev, Katrina and Pete, I'd always believed that our lives would go pretty much in the same directions, that we'd all achieve the same things, that we'd always be equal. But life didn't happen that way. Everything was random: Ginny's mum dying, Pete's divorce, Katrina's career never getting off the ground, Bev finding out that she couldn't have kids, Gershwin's unhappiness with his life. Our experiences were not universal: we had to face every trial on our own. And when I looked at my own life, when I looked at Ginny and me, I understood at last why, time and time again, we kept getting back together. It was nostalgia – as simple as that. We were trying to hang on to the way things used to be because we didn't like the way the world really was. And the thing neither of us had realised was that even the past was no longer what it had been. If the news of Gershwin's affair proved anything it was this: that none of us were the same people we had all been back then. We'd all gone so far down our separate paths, we'd all experienced such different things, we'd all grown so much apart that there was no way we could be the same. Ginny was about to change her life for me but she was putting her trust in a version of me that only existed in her head. I wasn't the same person she had known all that time ago.

It was a little after eleven when I reached Ginny's. Though she looked worn out she was still awake, curled up on the sofa with Larry and Sanders, watching TV with the sound turned down so low it was barely audible.

‘Hiya,' she said.

‘Hiya,' I replied, from the doorway. I walked over and kissed her. I had no idea how I was going to say what I had to say. ‘What are you doing still up? You look whacked out.'

‘Cheers.'

‘You know what I mean.'

She laughed. ‘Yeah, I am tired but I wanted to wait up for you.'

I sat down next to her. Larry and Sanders leapt off her lap on to the floor and disappeared into the kitchen. I wondered briefly whether cats had a sixth sense for when trouble was brewing.

‘I missed you tonight,' said Ginny, wrapping her arms round my waist and pulling me closer to her.

I looked at her and kissed her again, and for that brief moment I was convinced I was wrong. She was right for me. She was the one. Sitting here with her, with her body so close to mine, feeling so comfortable, how could this possibly be wrong?

‘How were Gershwin and Zoë?' she asked.

Hearing their names brought me crashing down to earth. ‘Fine,' I lied.

‘What did you get up to?'

‘Nothing much.'

‘Was Charlotte about?'

‘She was in bed.'

‘Have you eaten? I could make you something if you want.'

‘We ate.'

There was a long silence, then Ginny removed her arms from my waist and sat up properly on the sofa.

‘Are you going to tell me what's going on?' she said quietly.

I glanced at her but didn't say a word. She looked beautiful. She really did. I couldn't believe I wanted to split up with her at all. And yet here I was using the oldest trick in the book on her – the sullen bastard boyfriend – to bring everything to an end. I just couldn't believe it.

‘There's nothing wrong,' I snapped.

‘Yeah, and it looks like it.'

I shrugged and remained silent.

‘I'm waiting, Matt.'

‘For what?'

‘For you to tell me what's wrong with you. We had a really nice day today. We got on so well. You were all right when you left this evening. What's changed?'

I closed my eyes and sighed, as I tried to summon the strength to do what I had to do.

I reminded myself why this wasn't going to work.

I reminded myself why I didn't have the right to interfere in her life like this.

I reminded myself that she deserved better and why I couldn't give it.

And then I finally said what I had to say. ‘Listen,' I began, purposefully avoiding her gaze. I couldn't look at her while I was saying this. I didn't have that kind of strength. ‘I don't think this is going to work between us.'

‘Why?' she asked, carefully. ‘What's changed your mind?'

‘I don't know . . . It's because . . . because I'm not thinking straight . . . because I haven't got the right to mess up your life like this . . . because this isn't about you and me here and now, this is about nostalgia . . . security, if you like. You know this as well as I do, Ginny. You must do. How can we be thinking straight, making all sorts of decisions that affect our future after six days? I can't ask you to split up with lan just because we've had some mad fling. You should split up with him because you want to. We're not teenagers any more. We can't do things like that.'

‘You're right, of course,' said Ginny eventually. Her voice was quiet, controlled and direct. ‘It never was going to work.'

‘No,' I replied quietly. ‘I'm not what's missing from your life.'

Silence.

‘I'm sorry,' I said. ‘I really am sorry.'

‘I'm sorry too,' she said, standing up. ‘But even so I think you'd better go.' She added, ‘For good this time.'

It was all over in a matter of minutes. As I disappeared upstairs to my room and hers to collect my stuff, the same depressing numbness that had descended over me when I'd split up with Elaine returned. I didn't worry about it this time. I didn't panic that I was losing my soul. Instead I accepted my new-found power not to fall apart.
I'll be okay
, I told myself.
Whatever happens
.
I'll be okay
.