voice. ‘I do agree our marriage is over because I really don’t have the strength to fight for it any more. And, because I feel like I’ve lived my life in a prison cell for the last ten years, well, maybe it’s time we were both set free.’
He slumped down on the edge of the settee opposite her. His smooth, Tom Cruise look-a-like face, seemed to crumple with the shock of her words. ‘Really?’ he asked, and she could tell he was astounded to be given the chance to get away so easily. Obviously, she thought, he’d been waiting for the hysterical arguments that had taken place at his previous confessionals.
She took a deep breath then asked, ‘So, if we are going to be grown up and rational about it can I ask who this woman is?’
‘Her name’s Stephanie and she’s a trainee graphic designer and is a very nice person. I met her at a party and although she is a little younger she does understand me,’ he said looking shiftily through the glass doors into the kitchen. ‘I think I’ll open a bottle.’
Helen stared at his back as he went into the kitchen wondering why he seemed to look sheepish, almost embarrassed, now. He returned carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
He poured wine into two glasses and gulped at his. ‘Er, you might as well know because people love to gossip and it’ll come out eventually, but wh-when I say younger, Stephanie is twenty-three,’ he said avoiding her eyes.
She couldn’t believe it and nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. All her previous rationality disappeared. ‘Jesus Christ, Rob! She’s seventeen years younger than you. And only five years older than your daughter – are you crazy?’
‘No, I’m not,’ he shouted. ‘It’s sixteen years and she is very mature for her age and I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks, I’m in love with her…’
‘You are forty in six weeks’ time, Rob,’ she reasoned, looking at the side of his head as he stared down at his hands clasped together. ‘Which, in my basic calculations, makes you nearer forty than thirty-nine. And whatever I think doesn’t really matter. But just for the record, I think you’re behaving like a bloody pervert and that, in case you haven’t thought, is what Rachel will think too!’
He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as he’d always done when cornered and denied any wrongdoing. ‘Oh, you’re so old-fashioned,’ he cried. ‘It’s not like that nowadays. Age doesn’t matter anymore.’
He bent forward to pull his socks back on and she noticed how his hair was thinning on the back of his head. Hmm, she thought vindictively, what was he going to do when he was bald and his Peter Pan image had died a death? Well, she decided, it’s time to let poor, unfortunate Stephanie cope with all his whingeing and dramatics because she’d had enough. And the embarrassment of this revelation would be just too much to bear – he’d have to go.
‘Fine, Rob. If that’s how you feel I think it would be best if you just left now. I take it that you want to move straight in with Stephanie?’ she asked raising her chin defiantly.
He nodded, and still avoiding eye contact stood up, left the room and went upstairs. She stared at the closed lounge door, feeling light-headed and with a tingling sensation in her chest, then gulped down the rest of her wine. My God, she thought, listening to drawers opening and closing and the wardrobe door bang, he’s actually packing and going to leave. They’d never got to this stage before as Rachel had always been home and she’d done everything possible to protect her from the upset. She looked down at her trembling hands holding the empty glass and wondered for a split second whether for Rachel’s sake, she should change her mind. But then she felt her cheeks burn remembering his words and decided she felt exactly the same – she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
She heard him come back downstairs and hover in the hallway behind the door –
He slumped down on the edge of the settee opposite her. His smooth, Tom Cruise look-a-like face, seemed to crumple with the shock of her words. ‘Really?’ he asked, and she could tell he was astounded to be given the chance to get away so easily. Obviously, she thought, he’d been waiting for the hysterical arguments that had taken place at his previous confessionals.
She took a deep breath then asked, ‘So, if we are going to be grown up and rational about it can I ask who this woman is?’
‘Her name’s Stephanie and she’s a trainee graphic designer and is a very nice person. I met her at a party and although she is a little younger she does understand me,’ he said looking shiftily through the glass doors into the kitchen. ‘I think I’ll open a bottle.’
Helen stared at his back as he went into the kitchen wondering why he seemed to look sheepish, almost embarrassed, now. He returned carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses.
He poured wine into two glasses and gulped at his. ‘Er, you might as well know because people love to gossip and it’ll come out eventually, but wh-when I say younger, Stephanie is twenty-three,’ he said avoiding her eyes.
She couldn’t believe it and nearly choked on a mouthful of wine. All her previous rationality disappeared. ‘Jesus Christ, Rob! She’s seventeen years younger than you. And only five years older than your daughter – are you crazy?’
‘No, I’m not,’ he shouted. ‘It’s sixteen years and she is very mature for her age and I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks, I’m in love with her…’
‘You are forty in six weeks’ time, Rob,’ she reasoned, looking at the side of his head as he stared down at his hands clasped together. ‘Which, in my basic calculations, makes you nearer forty than thirty-nine. And whatever I think doesn’t really matter. But just for the record, I think you’re behaving like a bloody pervert and that, in case you haven’t thought, is what Rachel will think too!’
He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as he’d always done when cornered and denied any wrongdoing. ‘Oh, you’re so old-fashioned,’ he cried. ‘It’s not like that nowadays. Age doesn’t matter anymore.’
He bent forward to pull his socks back on and she noticed how his hair was thinning on the back of his head. Hmm, she thought vindictively, what was he going to do when he was bald and his Peter Pan image had died a death? Well, she decided, it’s time to let poor, unfortunate Stephanie cope with all his whingeing and dramatics because she’d had enough. And the embarrassment of this revelation would be just too much to bear – he’d have to go.
‘Fine, Rob. If that’s how you feel I think it would be best if you just left now. I take it that you want to move straight in with Stephanie?’ she asked raising her chin defiantly.
He nodded, and still avoiding eye contact stood up, left the room and went upstairs. She stared at the closed lounge door, feeling light-headed and with a tingling sensation in her chest, then gulped down the rest of her wine. My God, she thought, listening to drawers opening and closing and the wardrobe door bang, he’s actually packing and going to leave. They’d never got to this stage before as Rachel had always been home and she’d done everything possible to protect her from the upset. She looked down at her trembling hands holding the empty glass and wondered for a split second whether for Rachel’s sake, she should change her mind. But then she felt her cheeks burn remembering his words and decided she felt exactly the same – she couldn’t stand the sight of him.
She heard him come back downstairs and hover in the hallway behind the door –
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