David Nicholls - One Day

‘When I’m not around, please.’

He sat down and placed it in his bag, and she leant across the table, as if returning to business. ‘So. I’ve got to ask. How are things?’

‘Oh, fantastic. The divorce goes through in September, just before our anniversary. Almost two whole years of wedded bliss.’

‘Have you spoken to her much?’

‘Not if I can help it. I mean we’ve stopped screaming abuse and throwing things, now it’s just yes, no, hello, goodbye. Which is more or less all we said when we were married anyway. Did you hear, they’ve moved in with Callum now? Into his ridiculous mansion in Muswell Hill where we used to go to dinner parties—’

‘Yes, I heard.’

He looked at her sharply. ‘Who from? Callum?’

‘Of course not! Just, you know — people.’

‘People feeling sorry for me.’

‘Not sorry, just. . concerned.’ He wrinkled his nose in distaste. ‘It’s not a bad thing, Dex, people caring about you. Have you spoken to Callum?’

‘No. He’s tried. Keeps leaving messages, like nothing’s happened. “Alright mate! Give us a call.” He thinks we should go out for a beer, and “talk things through”. Maybe I should go. Technically he still owes me three weeks’ wages.’

‘Are you working yet?’

‘Not as such. We’re renting out that bloody house in Richmond, and the flat, so I’m living off that.’ He drank the dregs of his coffee and stared into the canal. ‘I don’t know, Em. Eighteen months ago I had a family, a career — not much of a career, but I had opportunities, I still got offers. People carrier, nice little house in Surrey—’

‘Which you hated.’

‘I didn’t hate it.’

‘You hated the people carrier.’

‘Well, yes, I did hate that, but it was mine. And now all of a sudden I’m living in a bedsit in Kilburn with my half of the wedding list and I have. . nothing. Just me and a shitload of Le Creuset. My life is effectively over.’

‘You know what I think you should do?’

‘What?’

‘Maybe. .’ She took a deep breath, and held the fingers of his hand. ‘Maybe you should beg Callum for your job back.’ He glared and jerked his hand away. ‘Joking! I’m joking!’ she said and started to laugh.

‘Well I’m glad you find the carnage of my marriage funny, Em.’

‘I don’t find it funny , I just think self-pity’s probably not the answer.’

‘It’s not self-pity, it’s the facts.’

‘“My life is effectively over”?’

‘I just mean. I don’t know. Just. .’ He looked into the canal and gave a theatrical sigh. ‘When I was younger everything seemed possible. Now nothing does.’

Emma, for whom the opposite was now true, simply said. ‘It’s not as bad as all that.’

‘So there’s a bright side, is there? To your wife running off with your best mate—’

‘And he wasn’t your “best mate”, you hadn’t spoken in years, that’s just, I’m just saying. . Okay, well for a start it’s not a bedsit in Kilburn, it’s a perfectly good two-bedroom flat in West Hampstead. I’d have killed to have a flat like that. And you’re only there until you get your old flat back.’

‘But I’m thirty-seven in two weeks! I’m practically middle-aged!’

‘Thirty-seven is still mid-thirties! Just about. And no, you don’t have a job at this exact moment, but you’re not exactly living on benefits. You’ve an income from rent, which is unbelievably lucky if you ask me. And lots of people change track late in life. It’s fine to be miserable for a while, but you weren’t that happy when you were married, Dex. I know, I had to listen to it all the time. “We never talk, we never have fun, we never go out. .” I know it’s tough, but at some point you might be able to think of this as a new start! A new beginning. There are loads of things you could do, you just have to make a decision. .’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know — the media? You could try for some presenting jobs again?’ Dexter groaned. ‘Okay, something behind the scenes? Producer or director or something.’ Dexter winced. ‘Or, or photography! You used to talk about photography all the time. Or food, you could, I don’t know, do something with food. And if none of that works, you’ve always got that low two-two in Anthropology to fall back on.’ She patted the back of his hand for emphasis: ‘People will always need anthropologists.’ He smiled, then remembered he shouldn’t be smiling. ‘You’re a healthy, capable, financially stable moderately attractive father in your mid-to-late-thirties. You’re. . alright, Dex. You just need to get your confidence back, that’s all.’

He sighed and looked out at the canal. ‘So was that your pep-talk then?’

‘That was it. What did you think?’

‘I still want to jump in the canal.’

‘Maybe we should move on then.’ She laid money on the table. ‘My flat’s about twenty minutes away in that direction. We can walk, or get a taxi. .’ She went to stand, but Dexter didn’t move.

‘The worst of it is I really miss Jasmine.’ Emma sat again. ‘I mean it’s sending me insane and it’s not even like I was a good dad or anything.’

‘Oh come on—’

‘I wasn’t, Em, I was useless, completely. I resented it, I didn’t want to be there. All the time we were pretending we were this perfect family, I always thought this is a mistake, this isn’t for me. I used to think wouldn’t it be great to sleep again, to go away for the weekend, or just go out, stay up late, have fun. To be free, to have no responsibilities. And now I’ve got all of that back, and all I do is sit with my stuff still in cardboard boxes and miss my daughter.’

‘But you still see her.’

‘Once a fortnight, one lousy overnight stay.’

‘But you could see her more, you could ask for more time—’

‘And I would! But even now you can see the fear in her eyes when her mum drives off; don’t leave me here with this weird sad freak! I buy her all these presents, it’s pathetic, there’s a great pile of them every time she arrives, it’s like Christmas morning every time, because if we’re not opening presents I don’t know what to do with her. If we’re not opening presents she’ll just start crying and asking for Mummy, by which she means Mummy and that bastard Callum, and I don’t even know what to buy her, because every time I see her she’s different. You turn your back for one week, ten days and everything’s changed! I mean, she started walking for Christ’s sake and I didn’t see that happen! How can that be? How can I be missing that? I mean, isn’t that my job? I haven’t even done anything wrong, and all of a sudden. .’ His voice quavered for a moment, and quickly he changed tone, grabbing onto anger: ‘. . and meanwhile of course that fucker Callum ’s there with them, in his big mansion in Muswell fucking Hill . .’

But the momentum of his rage wasn’t enough to prevent his voice cracking. Abruptly he stopped speaking, pressed his hands either side of his nose and opened his eyes wide, as if trying to suppress a sneeze.

‘You okay?’ she said, her hand on his knee.

He nodded. ‘I’m not going to be like this all weekend, I promise.’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Well I mind. It’s. . demeaning.’ He stood abruptly, and picked up his bag. ‘Please, Em. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me something. Tell me about you.’

They walked the length of the canal, skirting the edge of the Place de la République then turning east along rue du Faubourg St-Denis as she talked about her work. ‘The second one’s a sequel. That’s how imaginative I am. I’m about three-quarters of the way through. Julie Criscoll goes on this school trip to Paris and falls for this French boy and has all sorts of adventures, surprise suprise. That’s my excuse for being here. “Research purposes”.’