Tony Parsons - Man And Wife

’Can I watch The Phantom Menace on DVD?’ This to Gina.

’No, you’re going out with your father.’

’Just some of the special features. A few of the deleted scenes. The interview with the director. Production notes.’

’Go on then.’ Pat disappeared. Stirring orchestral music swelled from the living room. ’This Easter egg I bought it was bloody lovely, Harry. Milk chocolate and covered with little hearts in red icing. A big purple bow around it. And Richard – get this – said it was the kind of egg you buy for a lover, not a child. For a lover! An Easter egg for a lover! That’s what he said! He said it was the kind of egg you buy for your husband or wife. I mean, can you believe the pettiness of the man? As if I can’t buy my son whatever Easter egg I bloody well like…”

’Are you talking to him?’

She smiled. ’You’ve heard of the old cow syndrome?’

’Don’t think so.’

’When a bull has mated with a cow once, he’s not interested any more. Doesn’t matter if the cow is really cute. The bull couldn’t care less. It’s called the old cow syndrome.’

’Is that true?’

She nodded. ’Once is enough for the bull. No matter how attractive the cow is, he’s just not interested. Well, it works the other way around for this old cow. When I’ve finished with them, I’ve finished with them.’

She made me laugh. I could hear the bitterness in her voice, and I knew that this new life was hard for her too. Because it was hard for any single parent. And – incredibly, it seemed to me that’s what Gina was now. She was angry, sour and sad. But I felt an enormous affection for this woman who had once been closer to me than anyone in the world. A woman who would almost certainly be my best friend if we hadn’t ruined it by getting married.

And for the first time I started to think that our marriage hadn’t been a failure. Not really. We could have done better for Pat. We could have been kinder to each other. All this was true. But we were together for seven years, we produced a sweet, caring kid whose existence will make this world a better place, and we could still talk to each other. Most of the time. When she was not being an old cow and I was not full of too much old bull. So who is to say that our marriage failed? A few good years and a great kid – maybe that’s the best anyone can hope for.

Gina and I had been through the mill, and we could still sit in a room together, drinking jasmine tea while she bitched about her future ex-husband. Deep in our history, Gina and I had something that Cyd and I lacked.

It went back to that blue line.

It went back to that day I came home from running in the park and, through laughter and tears, Gina told me that she was having our baby.

We had missed that, Cyd and I, the hope and joy and optimism that Gina saw in that blue line, that thin blue line leading to all our tomorrows, and our stake in the future.

’Ah, sure, there’s nothing like it,’ Eamon said. ’To love pure and chaste from afar. Nothing like it – except, perhaps, wild unprotected sex as you take her roughly from behind. Sure, that’s even slightly better.’

I was beginning to wish that I had lied. I was beginning to wish that I had never told him that Kazumi and I hadn’t consummated our relationship.

’She understands me.’ It was true. Kazumi knew what I was going through with my mum. And my son. Even, although we didn’t like to put it into so many words, with my wife.

’She understands you too well, Harry.’ Eamon took a slug of his mineral water, ran a hand through his thick black locks. ’She’s playing you, man. Don’t be fooled by that sweet act. All that hello-flowers, hello-sky stuff

’Hello-flowers, hello-sky?’

’Kazumi understands that when a man gets what he wants, he never wants it again.’

We were in Eamon’s dressing room in a comedy club in the East End. The dressing room was more of a broom cupboard compared with what we were used to in television, and the club was actually an old-fashioned, pints-and-pork-scratchings, tobacco-stained pub that had belatedly tried to hitch a ride on the comedy bandwagon.

It was not a million miles away from the kind of place that Eamon had appeared in before TV came calling. What had changed was his attitude to women. The cavalier shag merchant of old was now urging caution, doing everything he could to get me to go back to my wife and stop the madness. Addiction had done to Eamon what it does to a lot of people.

It had made him long for stability.

’You’re messed up, Harry. You’ve screwed too many of the wrong women and screwed over too many of the right women. Like your wife.’

He had always had a soft spot for Cyd.

’You’re on in five minutes.’

But he would not let it go. Eamon – the only one who knew anything about us, apart from the cello-playing flatmate thought that it would be different if I could sleep with Kazumi. Get it out of my system. If Kazumi and I had sex, Eamon told me, then I would see her as just another girl. Because right now that was the one thing Kazumi was not – just another girl. But I didn’t think that sex, when it finally happened, would make any difference. Except to make it impossible to live without her.

’Can’t you see what you’re doing, Harry? You’re making the best bit go on and on.’

’The best bit?’

’The chase. The pursuit. The fever of anticipation. It’s the best bit, isn’t it? If we own up, it’s much better than anything that comes later.’

’Remind me never to have sex with you.’

’You don’t want the good stuff to die, Harry. Like it died with Gina. And with Cyd. Your wife. And every other woman you ever knew. You want the best to last. So what do you do? You get this platonic thing going. You make the chase, the pursuit, the delay of pleasure last forever.’

’Is that what I am doing? I don’t think so. I’ve slept with plenty of women that I didn’t love. Why can’t I love a woman that I haven’t slept with?’

Slept with – I couldn’t stop using that inaccurate euphemism. Everything else just sounded too mechanical.

’Look at it this way. What is it all about? The whole thing

– sex and romance, men and women? It’s about delaying the moment of release. It’s about postponing pleasure. It’s about putting ecstasy on hold. Relax, don’t do it. Frankie Goes to Hollywood knew what they were talking about, Harry. And what are you doing with this woman you haven’t slept with?’

’Tell me.’

’It’s obvious. By falling so hard for someone you haven’t shagged, you’re delaying the moment of release – permanently. Of course you’re mad about her. Why wouldn’t you be? You’ll be mad about her until you see that she’s flesh and blood. Just like your wife.’

’You think I’d stop caring about Kazumi if we had sex?’

’No. I think you would be able to think more clearly. At the moment you’re falling in love with a fantasy, and that’s the most dangerous thing in the world.’

’You really think you can’t care about someone until you’ve exchanged bodily fluids?’

’Hey, don’t knock it, Harry. It breaks the ice.’

I looked at my watch. ’You’re on in one minute.’

’No man can think clearly until he’s been despunked, Harry.’

Maybe. I could see that a platonic relationship made everything seem hopelessly romantic. A mid-afternoon cappuccino with Kazumi in some sun-dappled little café became something I’d remember forever. A Polaroid we took of ourselves on Primrose Hill – Kazumi laughing as we banged our heads together, trying to get in shot – became the highlight of my week. She squeezed my hand in the back row of the Swiss Cottage Odeon and it was more exciting than most of the blow jobs I’d had in my brief career as a boy about town. She just did it for me.