Jennie Ensor - The Girl in His Eyes

She shivered. It meant nothing. It didn’t mean she was going to drown one day, as her father had. Though she didn’t want to, she found herself imagining his last seconds, floundering in that cold, merciless sea while the yacht sped ahead without him. What had gone through his mind? Had he prayed? Had he begged God to save him?

It would have been a quick death, her mother had said. He hadn’t been wearing a life jacket – none of the crew had. The weather had changed a few hours into the race and surprised them. By the time they’d turned the boat around and headed back to where he’d fallen overboard, her father had disappeared.

Suzanne heaved herself out of bed. Perhaps she was drowning already, only very slowly.

No, she must stop thinking like this. She must get up and do something.

Downstairs, Marmaduke greeted her. She fed him and went back to bed with a cup of tea and her laptop. It contained all four features from the upcoming issue of the dry, jargon-filled magazine. She was supposed to finish subbing them by the end of the week. She opened the first piece, about advances in call centre technology, and began to make changes. Soon, red blotches of crossed-out words and altered punctuation were breaking out all over the screen, like an attack of chickenpox.

After ten minutes, she’d had enough. Why was she doing this? One didn’t need a degree in English to change it’s to its, or delete a herd of unnecessary apostrophes.

What about her affirmations? She hadn’t done them lately.

Suzanne took the list from her bedside drawer and read the first one aloud.

‘I trust the universe to bring joy and harmony into my life.’

She frowned. Living with Paul was one guarantee of not having joy and harmony. What was the universe going to do about that?

She went on to the next.

‘I am a beautiful, desirable woman.’

She put down the list. She wasn’t in the mood for affirmations either. Perhaps Katherine would be able to meet her for lunch. She went into the kitchen and put two thick slices of bread into the toaster.

Paul used to like her curves, she thought as she sat down and crunched into her toast. He used to say they were womanly. That was before the children came though, and she’d put on a few kilos. Now, however much she dieted and went to the gym, her weight stubbornly stayed the same. It was no use hoping that one day she might shrink back from a size 14 to a size 12… However, Paul was ageing too. His hair had started to thin and he had to take pills to control his blood pressure. His teeth had seen rather a lot of the dentist lately. Apart from death, of course, there was no way either of them could avoid getting old.

‘Hello, m’dear.’ Katherine wore a T-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. Debbie’s jacket, probably – Katherine was always swiping Debbie’s clothes.

They ordered salads and a bottle of wine. The café was Katherine’s choice, fashionable and expensive, the latest eating place to spring up in the village. Voices echoed in the airy, light-filled space, competing with shouting and clanking from the open-plan kitchen.

‘You’ll never guess,’ Katherine announced. ‘Debbie’s got the job with BT. In their marketing department.’

‘That’s great, Kat.’ Suzanne hoped she sounded sufficiently pleased. Lately, good news about other people’s children only served to remind her of her own daughter’s troubled career, or, more precisely, her string of unsatisfactory jobs punctuated by unemployment.

‘I hope Laura finds something too, soon,’ Katherine said quickly. ‘So, how are you? Things are bad with Paul again?’

She related what had happened the night before, aware of the progressively grimmer expression on Katherine’s face.

‘Suzanne. You can’t keep on letting him do this to you.’ Katherine’s response was as it had been at least five times before. ‘Tell him you’ll leave him if he carries on treating you like a doormat. Tell him if he talks to you like that again, you’ll walk out – to a solicitor.’

‘Katherine, I love him. I couldn’t leave him. If I didn’t love him, it would be different—’

‘Well, he doesn’t show his appreciation for you much, does he?’ Katherine cleaved her beetroot in two without mercy. ‘Maybe you need to make him realise that you’re a human being too, you haven’t been put on this planet just to tend to his needs—’

‘He told me I don’t turn him on, I’m too fat.’

Her friend made a face. ‘Well, he’s hardly a sex god himself, is he? I know he works out and swims ’n’ all, but really.’

‘I’ve been worried about Paul, lately – something’s going on, I’m sure. Do you think he could be seeing someone else? He says it’s the stress of his work, but I don’t think that’s it. He’s been so withdrawn lately. His moods seem to be getting worse and he’s wound up so tight. I don’t know how to describe it. He just seems so… strange , lately.’

‘Suzy, listen.’ Katherine squeezed her hand. ‘I really don’t think he’s having an affair, or he’s becoming unhinged. I’m sure it is all down to the stress of work – and realising he’s getting old. His work is challenging and he feels pressure from the young ones coming up below him. He knows he isn’t a spring chicken anymore. I’ve had it from Jeremy, I know what it’s like.’ Her voice hardened. ‘You need to make him understand how his behaviour affects you, and you’re not going to put up with all the shit he throws at you. You’re not chained to him for life, are you? Alright, my love?’

Suzanne nodded, summoning a smile. It was good advice, no doubt.

The waiter cleared their plates. Katherine whipped out a compact and retouched her lipstick.

‘So, how are the swimming sessions going?’

‘Very well, by the sound of it. Paul says Emma’s really coming on. She can manage several lengths non-stop now.’

‘It’s good of him to help her like that, I must say. How long is this going to go on for?’

‘He’s happy to take her for as long as Emma is happy going to the pool with him. Jane told me she’s pleased about how it’s going, she thinks it’s having a good effect on her. Emma’s behaving much better now.’

‘I must give Jane a ring, we haven’t chatted for ages. Maybe the three of us could meet up in Covent Garden and treat ourselves to an evening at The Sanctuary, like we used to. Oh, by the way.’ Katherine leaned towards her. ‘David phoned the other day. He asked me to say hello to you and to pass on his best wishes. I think he fancies you.’

There was something undeniably pleasing about the thought.

‘Why don’t you give him a ring?’

‘I might be pissed off with Paul, but I’m not looking for an affair.’

‘Maybe you ought to be.’

She pictured David on his knees, slowly unrolling a sheer stocking from her leg, and laughed. ‘I’m too old to have an affair, Kat.’

‘Don’t be daft! Since when did age matter? It’s not as if women have to worry about getting it up, is it?’

‘Shush, not so loud,’ she said, and then found herself laughing as loudly as her friend, provoking curious stares.

‘Seriously though,’ Katherine said, after their mirth had subsided, ‘if you made Paul a little jealous, would it be such a bad thing?’

Paul arrived home early that evening. Before she could say hello, he’d thrust two bouquets of red roses into her hands and kissed her on the lips. An unusually long and tender kiss, as if they were new lovers who’d been parted for too long.