what he was going to say and that I’d therefore take the conversational lead. Which I decided I’d better, or we’d be here all night. I said ‘Ah,’ again, but this time without the exclamatory nuance. Then ‘Well? So?’, which seemed to gee him up a bit.
‘You know my weekend?’ he began. I folded my arms and nodded. He slapped his hands down on his knees, as if starting a symphony. ‘Well, I didn’t actually go on it.’
He paused to let this sink in. As I’d already suspected as much, I nodded again, fairly immediately. ‘I know.’
He looked startled. ‘You do?’
‘You were spotted in the Flag and Fulcrum. Late Friday night. And you didn’t phone at all, so I was pretty sure. Why didn’t you go?’
He jerked his head up and looked as shocked as if I’d just suggested energetic sex on the vinyl. Which, in other circumstances, would have been faintly amusing. What did he expect me to ask?
‘Because Karen’s been in touch. She’s back. And we...and she –’ He stopped here and peeled my flexible You Fat Cow fridge magnet off the fridge. Then stuck it back on higher up. Karen, then. Karen. As in the-ex-wife. As in the- no-go-discursive- region. As in - well, anyway. I had to find out about her sometime. It may as well be now.
‘Well, anyway,’ he said. ‘She’s back–’
‘Back?’
‘Back. In Cardiff. She- we- well, since the divorce she’s been living in Bristol. But she’s got a new job - the hospital. She’s a nurse. She –’I nodded. This much I recalled. ‘Anyway,’ he went on awkwardly. ‘She wanted to talk, so I met up with her on Friday evening and, well, I’ve been giving things a great deal of thought and I don’t think you’d disagree that things haven’t been all they could be between us lately, and I, well, I –’
‘Think we should stop seeing one another.’ I took a breath. ‘So do I.’
‘You do?’
‘You seem surprised.’
‘No, I...Well, yes. I suppose I am. This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it? I mean, I only really began to think in those terms on Friday. You know, with Karen and everything. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me that –’
I unfolded my arms. I needed to move. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like tea?’ I asked. Somehow, conversations of this nature were more palatable with a side dish of routine domestic pottering. I pulled my sleeves up. ‘I’m having one.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, while I slopped out the teapot. ‘I have to be getting back. I have a...well, it’s of no consequence really, is it? Charlie, look. Did you really mean what you said? Were you already thinking we should, you know, call it a day? Because I feel pretty bad about…well, we’re neither of us getting any younger. It’s not as if we...well, I just hope you don’t feel I’ve...Well. The thing with Karen and me, well, it’s never really gone away, has it? I mean, I know we’re divorced now but, well... Well, it’s never really been sorted out, has it?’
How would I know? It had never even been alluded to, as far as I could recall. What a very dark horse. I shrugged. He sighed. ‘And I feel bad about that,’ he went on. ‘I would hate to feel you’re just putting a brave face on things.’
He paused (for breath, presumably) and then slid from the stool. I took a mug from the dishwasher and wondered how best to deal with this slight. It was one thing to have your control of the situation usurped by a pre-emptive strike; quite another to be assumed not to have had any in the first place. But to say ‘yeah, well, I’d gone off you anyway’ seemed, though compelling, rather needlessly juvenile. So I settled for,
‘Not at all. It’s the right thing for both of us. I think we both knew it wasn’t really going anywhere, didn’t we?’
I’d stressed the ‘both’ - and the ‘didn’t’, and he nodded gravely. Then tipped his head to one side.
‘I suppose we’re all looking for that elusive something , aren’t we? Doesn’t
‘You know my weekend?’ he began. I folded my arms and nodded. He slapped his hands down on his knees, as if starting a symphony. ‘Well, I didn’t actually go on it.’
He paused to let this sink in. As I’d already suspected as much, I nodded again, fairly immediately. ‘I know.’
He looked startled. ‘You do?’
‘You were spotted in the Flag and Fulcrum. Late Friday night. And you didn’t phone at all, so I was pretty sure. Why didn’t you go?’
He jerked his head up and looked as shocked as if I’d just suggested energetic sex on the vinyl. Which, in other circumstances, would have been faintly amusing. What did he expect me to ask?
‘Because Karen’s been in touch. She’s back. And we...and she –’ He stopped here and peeled my flexible You Fat Cow fridge magnet off the fridge. Then stuck it back on higher up. Karen, then. Karen. As in the-ex-wife. As in the- no-go-discursive- region. As in - well, anyway. I had to find out about her sometime. It may as well be now.
‘Well, anyway,’ he said. ‘She’s back–’
‘Back?’
‘Back. In Cardiff. She- we- well, since the divorce she’s been living in Bristol. But she’s got a new job - the hospital. She’s a nurse. She –’I nodded. This much I recalled. ‘Anyway,’ he went on awkwardly. ‘She wanted to talk, so I met up with her on Friday evening and, well, I’ve been giving things a great deal of thought and I don’t think you’d disagree that things haven’t been all they could be between us lately, and I, well, I –’
‘Think we should stop seeing one another.’ I took a breath. ‘So do I.’
‘You do?’
‘You seem surprised.’
‘No, I...Well, yes. I suppose I am. This is all a bit sudden, isn’t it? I mean, I only really began to think in those terms on Friday. You know, with Karen and everything. I suppose it hadn’t occurred to me that –’
I unfolded my arms. I needed to move. ‘Sure you wouldn’t like tea?’ I asked. Somehow, conversations of this nature were more palatable with a side dish of routine domestic pottering. I pulled my sleeves up. ‘I’m having one.’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said, while I slopped out the teapot. ‘I have to be getting back. I have a...well, it’s of no consequence really, is it? Charlie, look. Did you really mean what you said? Were you already thinking we should, you know, call it a day? Because I feel pretty bad about…well, we’re neither of us getting any younger. It’s not as if we...well, I just hope you don’t feel I’ve...Well. The thing with Karen and me, well, it’s never really gone away, has it? I mean, I know we’re divorced now but, well... Well, it’s never really been sorted out, has it?’
How would I know? It had never even been alluded to, as far as I could recall. What a very dark horse. I shrugged. He sighed. ‘And I feel bad about that,’ he went on. ‘I would hate to feel you’re just putting a brave face on things.’
He paused (for breath, presumably) and then slid from the stool. I took a mug from the dishwasher and wondered how best to deal with this slight. It was one thing to have your control of the situation usurped by a pre-emptive strike; quite another to be assumed not to have had any in the first place. But to say ‘yeah, well, I’d gone off you anyway’ seemed, though compelling, rather needlessly juvenile. So I settled for,
‘Not at all. It’s the right thing for both of us. I think we both knew it wasn’t really going anywhere, didn’t we?’
I’d stressed the ‘both’ - and the ‘didn’t’, and he nodded gravely. Then tipped his head to one side.
‘I suppose we’re all looking for that elusive something , aren’t we? Doesn’t
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