Tony Parsons - Man And Wife

And, yes, I could see that this thing was getting out of control. But it was more than a fantasy. I was starting to measure the practicalities of a life with Kazumi. Dismantling one home, setting up another home, giving Kazumi and me the chance to get to that point that all couples, even the ones that are crazy about each other, have to reach eventually. That point where you don’t even feel the need to talk to each other.

It could work. I knew it could work. And maybe she was the one that I had needed all along. And perhaps it would make Cyd happier if she was with someone else. She certainly didn’t seem too thrilled by her life with me right now. So maybe it would be better all round. One harsh, painful tearing asunder

– of a marriage, a house, a home – and then everybody would get a chance to have their happy ending.

’You don’t even know her,’ Eamon said, interrupting my plans for a new life. ’You’ve spent – what? – a hundred hours around each other? If that.’

’How long do you think it takes? How long before you know?’

He shook his head, exasperated. Outside, surprisingly close, we could hear hecklers shouting down the female comedian on stage.

’You fucking idiot, Harry. You’re really going to leave your wife, your terrific wife, who you do not fucking deserve, for some slip of a girl you hardly know?’

He was genuinely angry with me.

’I didn’t say that.’

’Well, where do you think this thing is heading?’

’I don’t know.’

’You better start knowing, pal. You have started it now, and sooner or later – probably sooner – it will all end in tears.’

’Why should it end in tears?’

’Because you have to choose, you dumb bastard. Once you get into one of these things, you always have to choose.’

’And what if I make my choice, and I choose Kazumi? How do you know it would be a disaster? How can you be so sure?’

He held up his hands, a mocking surrender.

’I don’t know, Harry. Neither do you. But have sex with Kazumi. Have lots of sex. Then see how you feel the first time she says something negative about your son.’

’What if she never does? What if she’s great with him?’

’Then pack your bags and go.’

He pressed a silver key in my hand. I stared at it. He didn’t have to tell me that it was the key to his flat.

’Kazumi’s great,’ Eamon said. ’But the world is full of great women. That’s what romantic fools like you never admit. There are a million great women out there. Ten million. You could be in love with any one of them. Given the right circumstances, given timing. Sooner or later you have to stop tormenting yourself with the thought that there’s just one out there with your name on. You have to be happy with what you’ve got. You have to love the one you’re with. You have to say – this is my home now, this is my wife, and this is where I’m staying. Stop looking, Harry. Just stop looking, will you?’

From long ago, I heard the voices of my parents. Just rest your eyes, my mum and dad would tell me. Just rest your eyes.

But Eamon held out the silver key.

And I took it.

’I started using these sensitive condoms,’ Eamon said, prowling across the tiny stage. ’Sensitive condoms – yeah, they’re great. What they do is, after you have had sex and fallen asleep, the sensitive condom cuddles the girl and talks to her about her feelings. Sensitive condoms send flowers the next day. Never forget to call…”

A swell of laughter in the audience, mixed with a few groans. There wasn’t the easy willingness to laugh that you found in a TV audience. There was a kind of punter who came to these things for the pleasure of baiting the poor sap on stage. Out in the smoky darkness, some of them were restless.

’Got any coke, Eamon?’

’Ah, I don’t do that any more,’ Eamon said mildly. ’The doctor gave me suppositories for my addiction. I told him they weren’t working. He said, ”Well, have you been taking them regularly?” I said, ”What do you think I’ve been doing, doc? Shoving them up my arse?’”

More laughter. And some boos.

’Yeah, sensitive condoms. People say wearing a condom during sex is like wearing a raincoat in the shower. They’ve got to be kidding. With all these new diseases, not wearing a condom during sex is like wearing a live fuse box in the bath…”

Laughter and a smattering of increasingly vitriolic abuse.

’You loser, Eamon, you has-been!’

’Fuck off back to the detox clinic!’

’Waiter, this fish is off!’

’Condoms, yeah.” The little Woody Allen cough. ’These days you get packs of condoms for all different nationalities. You get the six-pack for Italians. That’s Monday to Saturday with a day of rest on Sunday. And you get the eight-pack for the French. That’s Monday to Saturday, and twice on Sunday. And you get the twelve-pack for the British.’ A pause. His timing was always good. ’January, February, March…”

A belligerent voice from the back, hoarse with cigarettes and loathing.

’Come in, Eamon Fish – your fifteen minutes is up!’

’My parents didn’t have to worry about condoms. Buy me and stop one – no, they didn’t have to worry about any of that. Not that their sex life was very happy. One night I heard them through the bedroom wall. They were trying to have sex and it just wasn’t working. My mother said, ”What’s the matter? Can’t you think of anyone either?’”

’You’re not funny!’ the voice shouted.

’It’s not that kind of comedy,’ Eamon said.

It was a big city but a small world. Sooner or later we were going to be seen together.

Naturally we avoided the danger zones of north and central London, that surprisingly large swathe of the city where Cyd could be working, or Gina could be lurking. But eventually we would be spotted. I knew it.

When it happened it was worse than I had imagined – and it was not my wife, or even my ex-wife, but someone from the outer suburbs of my life. He saw me as soon as he walked into the club, and took it all in.

The married man, the girl by his side who wasn’t his wife. In a quiet corner of the pub above the comedy club, having a drink, holding hands like they had done it before.

And I felt a sickening guilt that this man knew, this stranger, and my wife didn’t. I was ashamed of myself. It seemed like the worst betrayal imaginable.

’Harry,’ Richard said, looking at Kazumi.

What the hell was he doing here? What possible reason could this man have to be in a comedy club in Hackney?

’Richard. I thought you were still in the States.’

’Came over to see Gina.’ He finally took his eyes off Kazumi. ’To be honest, I want her to come back.’

’This is Kazumi,’ I said, for a cowardly moment thinking about passing her off as a work colleague, or a business associate.

But the truth is that Richard didn’t care. He was in a state that was beyond caring about the romantic tangles of others no job, no wife, and a life that had reached a point that he had never imagined. I knew the feeling.

Tm staying with some friends,’ he said. ’They’ve got a house around here. It’s becoming quite popular with the City people, isn’t it?’

’Them and the crack dealers. Listen, Richard, we have to go. Good luck with… everything.’

I watched Kazumi and Richard smiling and shaking hands and I thought of Gina’s old bull theory, knowing he didn’t have a chance in hell of getting her back.

Then we left him, our drinks abruptly abandoned, my guilt herding us out of the door.

And that’s when I remembered the key in my pocket.

We let ourselves into Eamon’s flat.