Tony Parsons - Man And Wife

All those friends whose doorsteps I could just turn up on, and know I would receive a warm welcome. Now the friends were all grown, and I was a man, and the only person in the world I could visit unannounced was my mum.

’Harry,’ she said, letting me in. ’Hello, love. I was just about to go out.’

I was dumbfounded.

’On a Sunday? You’re going out on a Sunday?’

Tm going to the Union Hall with your Auntie Ethel. We’re going line dancing.’

’Line dancing? What, that cowboy dancing? But I thought we could watch a bit of telly.’

’Oh, Harry,’ laughed my mum. ’I can watch telly when I’m dead.’

The door bell rang and a seventy-year-old cowgirl came inside. Instead of her usual sensible cardigan, floral skirt and chunky Scholl sandals, Auntie Ethel from next door, who wasn’t really my auntie at all, was wearing a stetson, a fringed, spangly jacket and cowboy boots.

’Hello, Harry love. Coming line dancing with us?’

’You look great, Ethel,’ said my mum. ’Annie get your gun.’

’Granny get your gun, more like,’ said Auntie Ethel, and they both laughed like overflowing drains.

’Ethel’s been before. She’s already a bit of an expert. Aren’t you, Ethel?’

Auntie Ethel smiled modestly. ’I can do the Sleazy Slide, the Hardwood Stomp and the Crazy Legs. I’m still having problems with my Dime A Dance Cha Cha and my Shamrock Shuffle.’ She began to jerk stiffly around the living room, almost colliding with a lime-green pouffe. ’Step forward on left, stomping weight on to it – hitch right knee slightly whilst swinging foot side to side – hitch right knee a little higher.’

’Is that your Dime A Dance Cha Cha, Ethel?’

’No, love, that’s my Shamrock Shuffle. And I’ll tell you what

– it’s doing wonders for my lumbago.’

I looked at Auntie Ethel and then at my mum.

’You’re not going out dressed like that,’ I told her.

But I needn’t have worried. My mum was going to see if she liked it before she bought any of the cowboy kit. I saw them off. And it was only when my mum was waiting for Auntie Ethel to edge her Nissan Micra out of the drive that she turned to me.

’You’ll get him back, love. Don’t worry. We’ll get him back.’

’Will we? I’m not so sure, Mum.’

’Children need their dads.’

’Dads don’t matter the way they used to in your day.’

’Every kid needs both of its parents, love. They do. It takes two to tango.’

I didn’t have the heart to point out to my mum that nobody did the tango any more.

Not even her.

Auntie Ethel beeped her horn and rolled down the window of her Nissan. ’

’Wagons roll,’ she said.

It was after midnight when I got home.

The bed was full. Peggy was sleeping in her mother’s arms, sucking methodically on her thumb, her dark hair plastered to her bulging baby’s forehead, as if she was fighting a fever.

’Bad dream,’ Cyd whispered. ’Something about her dad falling off his motorbike. I’ll make sure she’s off and then take her back to her room.’

’It’s okay. Keep her here.’

’Do you mind, babe?’

’No problem.’

So I kissed my wife and went to sleep on the sofa. And I truly didn’t mind. Peggy needed her mum tonight. And alone on the sofa I didn’t have to worry about Peggy waking up, or Cyd feeling too tired for sex, or if I was taking up too much of the duvet. There was nobody to cuddle downstairs, but also nobody to spoil my sleep.

That’s the thing about sleeping on sofas. You get used to it.

’You need to get some romance back in your life,’ Eamon told me. He pushed some pasta from one side of the plate to the other. He wasn’t eating much these days. ’Some excitement, Harry. Some passion. Nights when you don’t go to sleep because you can’t bear to be apart. You must remember all that. Think back, think hard.’

’You think I should get my wife some flowers?’

He rolled his eyes. ’I think you should get yourself a mistress.’

’I love my wife.’

’So what? Romance is a basic human right. Like food, water and shelter.’

’You don’t mean romance. You mean getting your end away. You’re thinking about your nasty little knob. As usual.’

’Call it what you will, Harry,’ eyeing up one of the waitresses as she took his uneaten food away. ’But if you got a bit on the side, you wouldn’t be harming your marriage. You would be keeping it together.’

’Try explaining that to my wife.’

’Ah, your wife wouldn’t know.’

’But I would. You don’t understand. I don’t want a new •woman. I just want my wife back. The way we were.’

You married men make me laugh,’ Eamon chuckled. ’You complain about a lack of excitement under the old marital duvet. But you don’t have the nerve to go out and look for some. You know exactly what you want, but you don’t have the guts to get it.’

’That’s what being married is all about.’

’What – frustration? Disappointment? Disillusion? Sleeping with someone you don’t fancy? Sounds fucking great, Harry. Sounds terrific. Remind me to stay single.’

’I still fancy Cyd,’ I said, and I meant it.

Sometimes I watched her face when she didn’t know I was looking and I was shocked at how lovely she was, shocked at the emotion she could stir in me without doing a thing.

’And I think she still fancies me. When she remembers to, that is.’

Eamon had a laugh at that.

’What I mean is – a marriage can’t end just because the honeymoon is over,’ I said.

’But the honeymoon is the best bit.’

’Don’t worry about our sex life – it’s fine. When we can work up the energy. It’s just – I don’t know. The spark seems to have gone out. She’s always busy with work. Or she comes home tired. Or the boiler has burst. It never used to be this way.’

’Women change, Harry,’ Eamon said, leaning back, getting expansive. ’What you have to understand is that at different times in her life, a woman is like the world.’

’How’s that?’

Well, from thirteen to eighteen, she’s like Africa – virgin territory. From eighteen to thirty, she’s like Asia – hot and exotic. From thirty to forty-five, she’s like America – fully explored but generous with her resources. From forty-five to fifty-five, she’s like Europe – a bit exhausted, a bit knackered, but still with many places of interest. And from fifty-five onwards, she’s like Australia – everybody knows it’s down there somewhere, but very few will make the effort to find it.’

’You’re going to need some better material than that when you come back.’

’Yeah,’ Eamon said dryly. ’When I come back. Excuse me.’

He went off to the bathroom. We had agreed with the station that Eamon would take a sabbatical for however long it took to pull himself together. I knew he was depressed about taking a break from the show. But the station was demanding that he cleaned up his habit before he went back on air. That’s why we were having this lunch. So I could convince Eamon that he needed professional help.

Eamon came back to the table, his eyes glazed and watery, his skin parchment pale. Not again, I thought. I tapped my nose and he dabbed his linen napkin at a flake of white powder by his nostril.

’Whoops,’ he giggled.

’Listen, there’s a doctor in Harley Street. She treats… exhaustion. The station wants you to see her. I’ll come with you.’

’Oh, great big hairy bollocks. What am I? A kid? I don’t need any help.’

’Listen to me, Eamon. You’ve got an enormous talent and right now you’re in danger of pissing it away.’

’I don’t need help, Harry.’