catch her husbandâs eye but he was already striding away from her. Soon the bees would leave the last of the lavender and the buddleia and travel further, seeking out the wild flowers that grew by the river; white bryony and charlock, dandelion and nettle.
Ian continued walking out into his garden, with his floppy hat and his secateurs, watched by his three sons and the women who were with them, intent on nothing more complicated than seeing to his bees and dead-heading a few roses.
He turned a corner, out of sight. He did not look back.
Four
From the train Douglas looked out at pallets burning in desolate factory yards, rusting track abandoned in the sidings, the distant Kent coastline.
He was on the early-morning Eurostar to Paris. A group of French girls were taking digital photos, laughing as they showed them to each other.
A man in a cheap suit was saying, âOK, OK, but we canât guarantee the performance parameters of the fabric abrasionwise.â
The woman across the corridor was telling her companion that she wanted her daughter to become a dentist. It was a good ambition to have, a sensible career. âYou never see a poor dentist, do you?â
Douglas knew his parents would have preferred him to have a proper job; they would have been far prouder if heâd entered a sensible profession with prospects. He could have become a doctor, a lawyer, or something important in international finance rather than the murky world of television. He certainly wouldnât have been travelling in standard class.
He knew that he should not be on the train.
It was mad to see Julia.
He tried to justify the decision. He could hardly blame Emma. Their work took them away from each other and their sex life had dwindled but after two rounds of IVF that had been predictable. They could have worked harder at their marriage, been kinder, perhaps, and taken each other less for granted, but theyhad been so tired by all that had happened that neither of them had the energy or the will to resurrect or redefine the little they had left.
Douglas worked and drank and slept. He had lost touch with most of his friends (his schedule was so unpredictable he could never commit to any arrangements in advance) and he only saw people socially when his wife or his parents forced him to do something that he could find no excuse for avoiding.
He had met Julia in Vienna. She was working for the British Council; he was making a documentary. They had been out a couple of times, flirted and then kissed on the last night.
Julia was a few years younger and lived in London. Her husband was some kind of corporate lawyer but Douglas had not asked too many questions about him, or her two boys, just as he had skirted around the fact that he was married to Emma. He had kept it vague, half implying that they were separated. After the first betrayal the rest had followed.
They had exchanged phone numbers and told each other that it would be good to meet if they ever found themselves at a loss in a foreign city again. Then Julia sent him a text:
In Paris 2July. Want to come?
Douglas felt guilty as soon as he received it. He waited a few hours and replied:
Why not?
At first he thought their meeting couldnât do any harm. They had settled on lunch rather than dinner. They did not know each other well and Douglas could treat the whole thing as just another flirtation. He had had enough of them in the past. But however much he told himself that such a meeting was normal, almost routine, he still felt the anticipation.
He tried to define why Julia was different from previous ambiguities. She was less available, less neurotic, and married with two sons. Douglas decided this made her safer (neither desperately single nor in need of a child) and at the same time more dangerous (they would both know the rules).
He wondered if his presence on the train was due to the fact that he had seen Jack and Krystyna together and had felt unexpectedly
Ian continued walking out into his garden, with his floppy hat and his secateurs, watched by his three sons and the women who were with them, intent on nothing more complicated than seeing to his bees and dead-heading a few roses.
He turned a corner, out of sight. He did not look back.
Four
From the train Douglas looked out at pallets burning in desolate factory yards, rusting track abandoned in the sidings, the distant Kent coastline.
He was on the early-morning Eurostar to Paris. A group of French girls were taking digital photos, laughing as they showed them to each other.
A man in a cheap suit was saying, âOK, OK, but we canât guarantee the performance parameters of the fabric abrasionwise.â
The woman across the corridor was telling her companion that she wanted her daughter to become a dentist. It was a good ambition to have, a sensible career. âYou never see a poor dentist, do you?â
Douglas knew his parents would have preferred him to have a proper job; they would have been far prouder if heâd entered a sensible profession with prospects. He could have become a doctor, a lawyer, or something important in international finance rather than the murky world of television. He certainly wouldnât have been travelling in standard class.
He knew that he should not be on the train.
It was mad to see Julia.
He tried to justify the decision. He could hardly blame Emma. Their work took them away from each other and their sex life had dwindled but after two rounds of IVF that had been predictable. They could have worked harder at their marriage, been kinder, perhaps, and taken each other less for granted, but theyhad been so tired by all that had happened that neither of them had the energy or the will to resurrect or redefine the little they had left.
Douglas worked and drank and slept. He had lost touch with most of his friends (his schedule was so unpredictable he could never commit to any arrangements in advance) and he only saw people socially when his wife or his parents forced him to do something that he could find no excuse for avoiding.
He had met Julia in Vienna. She was working for the British Council; he was making a documentary. They had been out a couple of times, flirted and then kissed on the last night.
Julia was a few years younger and lived in London. Her husband was some kind of corporate lawyer but Douglas had not asked too many questions about him, or her two boys, just as he had skirted around the fact that he was married to Emma. He had kept it vague, half implying that they were separated. After the first betrayal the rest had followed.
They had exchanged phone numbers and told each other that it would be good to meet if they ever found themselves at a loss in a foreign city again. Then Julia sent him a text:
In Paris 2July. Want to come?
Douglas felt guilty as soon as he received it. He waited a few hours and replied:
Why not?
At first he thought their meeting couldnât do any harm. They had settled on lunch rather than dinner. They did not know each other well and Douglas could treat the whole thing as just another flirtation. He had had enough of them in the past. But however much he told himself that such a meeting was normal, almost routine, he still felt the anticipation.
He tried to define why Julia was different from previous ambiguities. She was less available, less neurotic, and married with two sons. Douglas decided this made her safer (neither desperately single nor in need of a child) and at the same time more dangerous (they would both know the rules).
He wondered if his presence on the train was due to the fact that he had seen Jack and Krystyna together and had felt unexpectedly
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