Dancing Over the Hill: The new feel good comedy from the author of The Kicking the Bucket List
you said that you have some ideas for books?’
‘Yes. No. Maybe. Seeds. I need to develop them.’
‘It must be nice to have Matt home,’ said Debs through a mouthful of ciabatta.
I laughed. ‘You’re joking. He’s driving me mad and it’s only been two weeks. It’s like living with the Spanish Inquisition. Every time I leave the house, he asks me where I’m going, who with, and what time I’ll be back.’
‘He’s probably a bit lost at the moment,’ said Debs. ‘Poor guy.’
‘Yes. It will be an adjustment for him,’ said Lorna. ‘Loss of status and routine can be tough, especially for men. They identify so closely with what they do. Cut him some slack.’ She looked wistful for a moment. ‘I’d give anything to have Alistair back for just one hour, even at his most annoying – and, believe me, he had his moments too.’
‘Oh god, I’m sorry, Lorna. I’m the most insensitive, awful friend.’
‘Hey, no, no need to apologize. Don’t feel bad. Life goes on. All husbands are annoying sometimes. All I’m saying is, try to appreciate him while you’ve got him.’
‘Yes, at least you still have a man,’ said Debs.
‘I know. I know. I just don’t want him home twenty-four hours a day. I know marriage is for better and for worse; unfortunately this is a “for worse” bit.’
Both of them were looking at me without the slightest hint of sympathy. ‘Sorry. Not serious, I’m just letting off steam. We’ll get through it.’
Neither of them understood. Lorna lived alone, apart from her dogs, in a sprawling seventeenth-century manor. Debs was alone too. She had a three-bedroom ground-floor flat in the centre of Bath, which she’d shared with Fabio until he’d discovered the joys of Tantra.
‘I’d sympathize if Matt was a womanizer,’ Debs said.
‘Or abused you,’ said Lorna.
‘I know, I know. He just needs something to do, to get him out of the house to cheer him up. I’ve tried all sorts of things to encourage him. I’m sure it would do him good to have company, something to occupy himself.’
‘Early days; it’s only been a couple of weeks,’ said Lorna. ‘Give him some space.’
‘He’ll find his feet,’ said Debs.
‘I’ll put the Airbnb idea to him. Actually, Lorna, that’s a great plan, because painting the house would give him something to do.’
‘It has to come from him,’ said Lorna. ‘I’d drop the suggestions if I were you; he may feel emasculated.’
There was nothing I could say. I had a weak case. Grounds for divorce? Does he beat you? No. Does he gamble away your money? No. Is he having extramarital relations? No. So what is it, Mrs Langham? He’s always there; he follows me round the house and talks to me through the door when I’m on the loo. I got the feeling that this evening wasn’t the best time to tell Lorna and Debs that an ex-lover had been in touch either.
‘OK. My turn,’ said Debs. ‘Back to my problem. Where am I going to meet a like-minded man? Men my age want a bendy babe who can do the splits, is twenty years younger and doesn’t answer back. I’m forty-seven. The only ones who want a woman in her forties look like Worzel Gummidge. I need you both to help me look online and pick a man.’
‘Why not just join the kind of group where like-minded men would go?’ I said.
‘Like what?’ she asked.
‘Oh … some kind of meditation group?’ I suggested. ‘Or one of your New Age weekends?’
Debs pulled a face. ‘They’re full of bearded men who look like tired chemistry teachers.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ I said.
‘Nah. You know me. I like the bad boys, men with a bit of edge. Where am I going to find one of them?’
‘Narcotics anonymous?’ said Lorna.
Cait
I resolved to go to my computer when I got home, log in to Facebook and delete Tom’s request. We hadn’t even spoken yet and already he was making me anxious. I couldn’t stop thinking about his message, remembering our time together and the person I was when I knew him, plus I felt bad that I hadn’t told Lorna or Debs about him, and nor had I told Matt. I headed straight up to my study but, instead of going to Facebook, I called Lorna.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ she said. ‘Did you leave something at the restaurant?’
‘No. Er … have you got a minute?’
‘Course. Is something the matter?’
I hesitated.
‘Hey, come on, you can tell me anything. Is it about your job coming to an end?
‘Partly.’
‘Could you both retire? Make that work? You are of the age.’
‘I … it’s not just that. I … thing is, Lorna, an old friend got in touch …’
‘Old friend?’
‘On Facebook. A man I used to know … live with many years ago – when I was at university.’
‘Tim, or Tom somebody?’
‘Yes. Tom Lewis.’ I was surprised she’d remembered. I’d told her about him briefly, many moons ago, when we were talking about first loves. ‘I haven’t heard from him for oh … must be forty years.’
‘Are you kidding? Where’s he been all this time?’
‘Abroad I think.’
‘What does he want?’
‘I don’t know. He made contact on Facebook. I haven’t accepted him as a friend yet.’
‘And will you?’
‘Not sure. I’ve been thinking about it.’
‘Oh, Cait, you really don’t need something like this in your life at the moment. I’d say tread very carefully there. He was the love of your life, if I remember rightly from what you told me. OK, probably no harm in saying hi in cyberspace, but more than that will be playing with fire. I remember you telling me what he meant to you. I’d say do not contact him. You don’t need the complications, especially now.’
‘It might be a closure of sorts and good for my soul.’
‘I very much doubt it; more like opening Pandora’s Box. Have you told Debs? What does she think?’
‘I haven’t told her and I don’t want to, so please don’t. He is, was, very attractive. She’d probably want to meet him, you know what she’s like.’
‘Yes, probably not a good idea.’
‘And I can’t open up to her completely, not like I can with you.’
‘What can’t you say to her?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, but it’s not just Tom who’s bothering me, it’s also Matt, and you know Debs thinks the world of him. Things aren’t good; in fact some days I’m not sure why I’m still with him.’ This wouldn’t be news to Lorna. I’d talked to her several times in the last few months, before he was made redundant, about my doubts over our relationship.
‘You’re thinking about separating? Is it really that bad?’
‘It is, but thirty years of marriage is a lot of history