Kate Field - The Man I Fell In Love With

After an awkward hesitation at the top of the stairs, we shared our bedroom as usual. I wasn’t ready to shut him out tonight; wasn’t ready to accept this new reality yet.

Leo’s phone buzzed with an incoming text while he was in the bathroom. I was already in bed, too twisted with anxiety to sleep. It buzzed again, and stamping down my conscience, I shuffled across the mattress and picked it up.

‘Just spoken to Mum. I can’t believe you’ve done this to Mary.’

It was from Ethan, Leo’s younger brother. Ethan had been away on a French exchange when the Black family moved in next door. Although he was more my age, by the time he returned, I was already a limpet on Leo’s rock and nothing could have prised us apart. He had lived in New York since the early days of our marriage, and rarely came back. If even he had heard the news from a different continent, how widely would my humiliation have spread at home?

I dropped the phone, slid over to my side of the bed, and longed for the day to be over.

We agreed the remaining lifespan of our marriage over mugs of tea in bed the following morning – a whispered discussion, so we wouldn’t disturb the children. Once we had spent mornings trying to muffle quite different sounds.

I couldn’t fault Leo for his honesty now, however much it hurt to hear it. He was clear from the start: it was a case of when, not if. He would leave, whatever I said or did. He wanted to be with Clark. Come the New Year, he would be sharing cups of tea and God knew what else in bed with Clark. He was sorry, and I believed him, but he was relieved and excited too. How could he not be? A new life and new adventures lay before him, while I was left holding together the tatters of our old life.

We told the children later that morning, and it was an experience too horrendous to dwell on. They weren’t prepared for this. Leo and I never rowed, because it wasn’t in his character and I had taken pains to repress it in mine. Jonas, sixteen years old and usually so laid back in true Black style, was appalled at Leo’s treachery, but I couldn’t let them take sides. I ended up defending Leo so enthusiastically that anyone would have thought I’d fixed him up with Clark myself.

Ava was my main concern, fourteen going on forty, and too much mine: I was terrified that I would have passed on something in my DNA, so that she would blame me just as I had blamed my own mum for the breakdown of my parents’ marriage. But she had also inherited my skill of bottling up her emotions. She listened to us in dry-eyed, stony-faced silence, until eventually she announced, ‘You do know you’ve ruined my life, don’t you?’ and flounced out, thumbs already flying over her phone.

I’d hardly had time to catch my breath when I spotted my mother, Irene, loitering outside the kitchen window.

‘Are you free?’ she asked, poking her head round the back door.

‘Yes, it certainly looks like it. Absolutely free and single. Thanks for reminding me.’

Mum chose to ignore this, and pulling out a chair, installed herself at the table. Clearly this wasn’t a flying visit.

‘What was all that business about last night?’ she asked, cutting straight to the point. ‘It must have set everyone talking when you rushed us out like that.’

‘I think they were probably more interested in Leo being gay than the fact that we left before the dancing.’

‘Leo isn’t gay,’ she said, in the manner of a foreman of the jury, pronouncing a not guilty verdict. ‘Remember when we went to see The Sound of Music at the Palace. He hated it.’

‘Of course! That’s all right then. I’ll tell Jonas and Ava it was a mistake, and Leo can make his apologies to Clark. Thank goodness you sorted that out for us.’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic. I’m only trying to help. If that’s how you spoke to Leo, it’s no wonder he had his head turned.’

But I hadn’t spoken to Leo like this. I’d never shouted at him, never nagged, because I’d seen my mother treat my father that way, had lived through the consequences, and had never forgiven her. I thought I’d been a model wife. How was I to know that eventually Leo would want a model husband?

‘Don’t you think you’ve let yourself go?’ Mum continued. ‘You’re never out of those jeans. When did you last have your hair cut? Or shave your legs? I noticed you were wearing thick tights last night.’

‘I don’t think hairy legs can be an issue,’ I said. But here was one of the downsides of our living arrangements. Mum had given her house to me and Leo when we married, and had moved into the garage, converted and extended to suit her. It had been an extraordinarily generous gift, and had allowed us the luxury of a mortgage-free life. Not a Mum-free life, though. From her vantage point at the bottom of the drive, she missed nothing: her curtains looked like they had a nervous complaint, they twitched so often. And we certainly didn’t have the sort of relationship where proximity was a good thing.

‘A dress and a haircut aren’t going to fix this.’

‘What’s going to happen? Is he going to give up this man, now he’s been found out?’

‘No.’ I put down my mug. I’d already drunk enough tea this morning to keep Tetley in profit for a year. ‘Leo will stay for Christmas, then move in with Clark.’

‘But that’s only a few days away! What about the children? He’ll want to stay for them, surely?’

‘Apparently not. I’m not worth staying with, even for their sake. Like mother, like daughter.’

I ignored Mum’s pained expression and slumped down on a chair.

‘But I won’t keep them apart. Leo will still see them as often as he can.’

‘Mary …’ Mum looked as if she wanted to say more, but let her words trail off with a sigh. ‘How did they take the news?’

‘Jonas was cross, but he’ll come round. He’s a Black.’ Mum nodded. The Blacks were a different species to us. If a family of Martians had moved next door to us all those years ago, they couldn’t have seemed more alien or more exotic in comparison to our life. ‘But Ava …’ I shrugged, not from indifference, but because my worries were too heavy to distill into words. ‘I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive us.’

‘She will.’ Mum reached out and patted my knee, in one of those embarrassing moments of affection she occasionally attempted. ‘And you’ll be there for her, come what may, won’t you? It will all work out. You didn’t turn out too badly, did you?’

Now I really was worried.

It was inevitable that I would end up next door, in the house still occupied by Leo’s mother, Audrey. She was the perfect mum: warm, happy, supportive; always ready with a hug, always knowing when to speak and when to listen. Since the day the Blacks became our neighbours, I had probably spent more time at their house than my own, irresistibly drawn to the whole family.

I called her name as I opened the back door, and she dashed into the kitchen, and folded me in her arms – something my own mother had singularly failed to do.

‘Oh, Mary,’ she said, pulling back to look at my face. I knew it wouldn’t look as bad as hers: there were no tears on her face, but the pink and puffy eyes testified that there had been recently. ‘I don’t know what to say. Let’s have some gin.’

I would have resisted – I had to pick up Ava from the riding stables later – if Audrey hadn’t looked so much as if she needed one. We took our glasses through to the living room, a haven of calm neutrality, in contrast to the serviceable dark patterns that I had grown up with, chosen by my mother so that they wouldn’t show the dirt. Audrey put her glass down on the side table beside her chair, next to a framed photograph of her husband, Bill. Bill had died four years ago, devastating us all.