he asked.
‘Not personally. Sally did though.’
‘So you celebrated.’
Ruth knew what he meant. ‘Don’t lecture me about drinking.’
‘I’m not.’ His hand moved down her body, stroking her thigh. ‘I like it when you’re drunk.’
Ruth knew how easy it would be to roll into him, to let go and feel good for a moment, but a sickness that existed both physically and mentally had taken hold of her. It seemed like too much of an effort; recently she’d even begun to see it as too much of a relinquishment, although she wasn’t sure what it was that she was losing. She pushed his hand away. ‘I’m knackered.’
Christian turned heavily from her and Ruth was sure she heard him sigh.
Christian had an early meeting so he was up and out before anyone had woken up. He found Ruth’s mobile phone on the door mat with a card from a taxi firm. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to work out what had happened and it annoyed him that she should always get away with her drunken nights out when he was made to feel like an alcoholic home-wrecker whenever he came in the worse for wear.
It was a beautiful spring morning but Christian had a headache and the sunlight glinting off all the expensive cars made him feel woozy. He’d been feeling peculiar since his disastrous interview with Sarah. The whole encounter had left him off balance. The difference in their circumstances had been so marked as to be grotesque. In the three years since they’d last seen each other he had a smart new job, a beautiful son to go with his amazing daughter and put a floundering marriage back on track. Sarah, on the other hand, was applying for a position beneath the one she’d had when he’d known her and looked as if she’d had some sort of breakdown. He’d checked her CV and it said single. He was not enough of a shit to feel good about any of it.
Then two days ago she’d phoned him. She’d sounded so faint and weak that when she’d asked if they could meet up, nothing serious, but it had been odd to see him in those circumstances and she didn’t want to leave it like that, he had said yes. Christian had desperately wanted to decline as the whole situation seemed too dangerous, but he felt oddly responsible for how she had turned out and so had agreed. He was due to meet her the next day.
Christian was unused to feeling confused; normally he got on with things or asked Ruth what she thought. He texted Toby, the only school friend he still saw regularly and asked if they could meet for a drink that evening. He was relieved that the reply was yes and didn’t even care that Toby suggested an impossibly trendy Notting Hill pub in which he’d feel completely out of place.
The day dragged. He had a long and boring phone conference with some stiff Americans, one of his staff called in sick for the third time that month, Carol was in a bad mood and the sushi he had for lunch was over-priced and tasteless. He called Ruth at four to say that Toby had rung because he was having a crisis with his latest girlfriend, so he was going to meet him for a drink, knowing she couldn’t shout because of what she’d done the night before.
Toby was already at the bar when Christian arrived, looking like he owned the place and knew everyone there, which probably wasn’t far off the mark. It was bad luck, Christian felt, that his best friend should make him feel so inadequate with his ridiculously glamorous lifestyle. He couldn’t remember how or even when Toby had got into the music business or why he had made such a success of it. Either way, standing by the curved bend of the polished wooden bar, ordering two pints of Guinness from the barmaid, he felt wrong and out of place in his suit.
Toby was texting furiously on his iPhone. ‘Fuck, I’m going to have to run in about an hour. We’ve got a band showcasing tonight and it’s all gone tits-up.’
‘Right.’ Christian resisted an urge to ask himself along.
‘Anyway, what’s up? Why the urgency?’
Christian didn’t know who Toby was sleeping with at the moment, but he’d lay money on her being as fit as a butcher’s dog, as Toby would say. Life sometimes came too fast, you couldn’t be sure if you were right or wrong, stupid or wily, pathetic or sophisticated.
‘D’you remember Sarah?’
‘Of course. Please don’t tell me you’re seeing her again.’
Christian waved from behind his pint. ‘No. No. But this really weird thing happened . . . ’
‘I need a fag for this,’ said Toby, standing up. They shuffled onto the pavement, no longer pretending at what they were doing to their bodies. Christian helped himself to one. ‘Thought you’d given up.’
‘Only when Ruth’s around.’
‘So?’ His friend leant against the grimy wall of the pub and Christian momentarily wondered what he was doing there.
‘She came for an interview at my work.’
‘Shit. What, you were interviewing her?’
‘Yeah, and I hadn’t bothered to check the CVs, so I was totally unprepared when she walked in and Carol was in the room and it was fucking awful. She looked terrible.’ Christian flashed an image of Sarah in his mind. Sometimes he felt as though he was watching his life on TV and that nothing really mattered. ‘No, she looked amazing. But, sort of, I don’t know, wasted.’
‘What, drugs?’
‘No, more like life hadn’t been good to her.’
‘And I suppose you’re thinking that’s your fault? That she’s been spending these last three years pining after you?’
‘No, but you know, what with the baby and everything . . . ’
Toby’s phone bleeped again. ‘Sorry, I have to get this.’ He answered and walked to the kerb, balancing on the rubbish-strewn lip of the pavement as a child might. Christian checked his phone for something to do and saw that Ruth had texted, asking him to get milk on his way home.
‘Sorry about that. Let’s go back in,’ Toby said as he returned.
They sat at the round table they had been at before, their own puddles of spilt beer still reflecting the lights from the bar. Christian hoped they would have been cleaned up.
‘She called me a few days ago and I’m meeting her for lunch tomorrow.’
‘Are you mad?’ Christian was surprised to see anger on his friend’s face, in the turn of his mouth before he could hide it. ‘You know Ruth will leave if you do it to her again. Fuck knows how you got her to stay last time, but she’s not going to take it a second time.’
‘I’m not planning anything. But I couldn’t say no. I feel guilty.’
Toby rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. Christian wanted another cigarette. ‘Look, it’s not like she didn’t know what she was doing. It was shit, but shit happens. People have miscarriages every day. I can’t believe that three years on she’s still upset about it. My guess is that she’s seen a chance and decided to take it. And you, my friend, should politely decline.’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think she’s like that.’
‘You don’t want to think she’s like that.’
Christian didn’t know what he thought. It was possible Toby was right. ‘Do you sometimes wonder if you are who you really are?’
‘No. Yes.’
Christian felt angry, not necessarily with Toby, but he was there. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘Please, don’t start telling me how hard married life is. All that shitty love, friendship and children.’
Christian squeezed his hand round his glass. ‘No sex, constant rows, massive mortgage.’
‘It’s not that bad.’
‘What, and I suppose you’d swap your life for mine at the drop of a hat?’