Alphabet Weekends - Elizabeth Noble [106]
‘Have you told her?’
‘How can I? I was getting round to it. I nearly told her in Paris. There was this perfect moment but I wimped out. Afraid of scaring her off. Or just afraid of being rejected. It’s always been me, before, doing the blowing off.’
‘You don’t need me to tell you what to do, do you?’
Tom smiled. ‘Not really. Just wanted to say some of it out loud.’
Patrick drained his glass. ‘Another?’
‘All right. That your last word on the subject, then? I’d have been better off going to Lucy.’
Patrick stood up, the two glasses in his hand. ‘Lucy’s been a bit busy lately, sleeping with a friend of mine.’ Then he walked slowly up the grass towards the door of the pub.
When he got back, he said, ‘Sorry. That was probably a bit melodramatic. There was no need to tell you like that.’
‘I’m not sure you could have found a way of telling me that wasn’t.’ His brother raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sorry, Pat. I’ve brought you out and rambled on about Natalie…’
‘Why shouldn’t you?’
‘Because this is a lot more serious, obviously. I presume you’re sure?’
‘I haven’t caught them at it, if that’s what you mean. But, yes, I’m sure.’
‘It’s so unlike Lucy.’
‘It’s not all her fault. I’ve been hell to live with these last months.’
‘Jesus Christ, Patrick, she’s your wife. I know things haven’t been easy, but that’s no excuse to run off and shag someone else.’
Patrick winced, and Tom wished he had said that differently. ‘Don’t make excuses for her, for God’s sake,’ he went on. ‘How long, do you think, has it been going on?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t noticed. I should have known.’
‘Stop it!’ Tom was exasperated. ‘Does she know you know?’
‘No. And I’m not going to tell her.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t know what I want to happen.’
‘You’re not making any sense, Patrick.’
‘I know. I don’t want her to leave me, Tom. I don’t want to lose her, and I don’t want to lose my kids. So I don’t want to force her hand.’
‘You can’t be serious, Patrick. You can’t let her carry on doing this to you, and not say boo to a goose because you’re afraid of what might happen. You can’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s not okay, Patrick. It’ll eat you. It’s untenable. And she can’t stay with someone who’s prepared to be cuckolded and walked over. So you’ll lose her anyway. You have to fight, if you want her. Don’t you?’
They both had to fight.
T for Tattoo
The door to Tom’s office opened and he looked up expectantly. No one was due in this afternoon. A brown ankle in an absurdly high heel appeared at skirting-board level. Then a calf, then a knee. There was something written on the leg, in dark letters, big enough to read from ten feet away. ‘sorry’. The leg continued to emerge, bit by bit, through the door. ‘TOM’ was written in the same hand on the thigh.
Then the singing started. ‘Dah dah dah, de dah dah dah…’ The stripper’s theme, just barely.
In spite of himself Tom smiled. ‘What the hell are you supposed to be?’
‘I’m T. T for Tattoo.’
‘That’s permanent, is it?’
‘Well… no. Not on my leg. Obviously. I’d have to hope gypsy skirts were in style for the rest of time, wouldn’t I? And, let’s face it, my legs are one of my best features, so it seems a bit of a shame to cover them up, don’t you agree?’
‘I can’t have a conversation with a disembodied leg.’
‘Does that mean I can come in?’
‘I don’t know.’
Natalie started singing again, and her leg danced wildly in the door frame.
Now Tom laughed. ‘Okay, come in, for God’s sake, before someone sees you, you nutter.’
The rest of Natalie slid through the door. The other brown leg was wearing a bright pink Converse All Star, so her walk as she approached him was comically lopsided. She put her arms round him. ‘I hated you hating me the other day.’
‘I don’t hate you Nat.’ He held her.
‘Good. Couldn’t bear it.’
Tom pushed her back to arm’s length. ‘But we have to talk…’
‘I know.’
‘So come in, sit down and listen to me, will you?’
‘Yes, Tom.’ She sounded very unlike Natalie.
‘Okay, Nat. I’m going to put my cards on the table.’
Natalie clasped her hands in her lap.
‘I don’t know