confident and who blatantly had no idea that her life was about to fall apart. She had to talk to Matthew. If this wasn't what she truly wanted, then she had no right to take him away from his family.
She sneaked into the bedroom, looked down at him fast asleep, and tried to rationalize how she felt. The nervous energy she had always experienced when she was around him before seemed to have entirely disappeared and been replaced by what?
Pity?
Embarrassment?
Matthew slid a finger into his nostril in his sleep and rooted around a bit.
Distaste?
* * *
He looked like he didn't quite know where he was when she woke him up. Then a brief look of panic crossed his face. She decided to tackle it head-on and sat down on the bed beside him, stroking his shoulder.
"You can still go home, you know, if you think you've done the wrong thing. I'll understand. Tell Sophie you were drunk and you made it all up or something."
"Don't say that. What are you saying? I did this for you. I can never go back now, not after what I've done to them in the last couple of days."
"I'm just saying, if you think you've made a mistake, then it's OK. I'll support you, whatever you want to do. I mean, maybe we've rushed into it a bit."
"Rushed into it? You've been telling me that this was what you wanted for years. I did this for you," he said, not for the first and not for the last time. "Tell me I've done the right thing."
Then he said the saddest sentence known to mankind.
"Don't you want me?"
She couldn't push him any further. He was so desperate and so pathetic, she had to put him out of his misery.
"God…Matthew…you know I do. This is all I've ever wanted. I just want you to be sure it's what you want, too, and you're not just doing it because I've pressured you."
"I want us to be a proper couple," he said. "I want us to live together. I want to meet your friends and you to meet mine. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night."
Helen could have sworn she could feel the walls of her already tiny flat moving in to suffocate her.
"Me, too."
He moved in to kiss her and they had awkward and slightly self-conscious sex. She noticed that his unfreshened morning breath was a little off-putting.
6
O N BARTHOLOMEW ROAD, Sophie was struggling to understand what the last twenty-four hours had been about. She was waiting for Matthew to breeze through the front door and tell her it was all a joke. After their row, she had known there was something seriously up with him, but she'd assumed it was work. Matthew had a way of hitting out at those around him when he was wounded, and she had convinced herself that he had messed up a campaign or been voted off the board or asked to take early retirement. Maybe he had developed a gambling habit and had blown all their savings. Or he was just feeling his age and kicking out against it as he sometimes did. She knew he took aging very badly, as if it were a personal slight, happening only to him. But there was nothing that had happened in the last fifteen years that had prepared her for this.
It had flitted through her mind that they'd get through this. It could take years and hard work, maybe counseling. They'd present a happy front while they repaired their marriage from the inside out and, one day, eventually, it'd be forgotten. She'd even heard people say that their relationships ended up stronger after they'd gone through something like this, although at the moment it was hard to see how. Then she'd heard him talking about arranging visits to see the girls and coming back to get the rest of his possessions, and she'd realized he really was going. This was it. After all these years, it had come to a straight choice between her and another woman and the other woman had won.
She knew that she had to put on a brave face for the children, but she also knew that they'd heard the shouting match that went on last night, though they were pretending they hadn't.
She sneaked into the bedroom, looked down at him fast asleep, and tried to rationalize how she felt. The nervous energy she had always experienced when she was around him before seemed to have entirely disappeared and been replaced by what?
Pity?
Embarrassment?
Matthew slid a finger into his nostril in his sleep and rooted around a bit.
Distaste?
* * *
He looked like he didn't quite know where he was when she woke him up. Then a brief look of panic crossed his face. She decided to tackle it head-on and sat down on the bed beside him, stroking his shoulder.
"You can still go home, you know, if you think you've done the wrong thing. I'll understand. Tell Sophie you were drunk and you made it all up or something."
"Don't say that. What are you saying? I did this for you. I can never go back now, not after what I've done to them in the last couple of days."
"I'm just saying, if you think you've made a mistake, then it's OK. I'll support you, whatever you want to do. I mean, maybe we've rushed into it a bit."
"Rushed into it? You've been telling me that this was what you wanted for years. I did this for you," he said, not for the first and not for the last time. "Tell me I've done the right thing."
Then he said the saddest sentence known to mankind.
"Don't you want me?"
She couldn't push him any further. He was so desperate and so pathetic, she had to put him out of his misery.
"God…Matthew…you know I do. This is all I've ever wanted. I just want you to be sure it's what you want, too, and you're not just doing it because I've pressured you."
"I want us to be a proper couple," he said. "I want us to live together. I want to meet your friends and you to meet mine. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night."
Helen could have sworn she could feel the walls of her already tiny flat moving in to suffocate her.
"Me, too."
He moved in to kiss her and they had awkward and slightly self-conscious sex. She noticed that his unfreshened morning breath was a little off-putting.
6
O N BARTHOLOMEW ROAD, Sophie was struggling to understand what the last twenty-four hours had been about. She was waiting for Matthew to breeze through the front door and tell her it was all a joke. After their row, she had known there was something seriously up with him, but she'd assumed it was work. Matthew had a way of hitting out at those around him when he was wounded, and she had convinced herself that he had messed up a campaign or been voted off the board or asked to take early retirement. Maybe he had developed a gambling habit and had blown all their savings. Or he was just feeling his age and kicking out against it as he sometimes did. She knew he took aging very badly, as if it were a personal slight, happening only to him. But there was nothing that had happened in the last fifteen years that had prepared her for this.
It had flitted through her mind that they'd get through this. It could take years and hard work, maybe counseling. They'd present a happy front while they repaired their marriage from the inside out and, one day, eventually, it'd be forgotten. She'd even heard people say that their relationships ended up stronger after they'd gone through something like this, although at the moment it was hard to see how. Then she'd heard him talking about arranging visits to see the girls and coming back to get the rest of his possessions, and she'd realized he really was going. This was it. After all these years, it had come to a straight choice between her and another woman and the other woman had won.
She knew that she had to put on a brave face for the children, but she also knew that they'd heard the shouting match that went on last night, though they were pretending they hadn't.
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