few more hundred yards narrowed and led into a neat housing estate, a little like the one where he and his wife lived in Chester. Lights were just coming on in some of the houses and Andrew wondered what was going on behind those tidy front doors, with their high-end family cars in the driveways and the marigolds in the straight, unimaginative borders beginning to show their gaudy colours in the half-light. Were everyone else’s lives as fucked up as his was?
It had all started going wrong early on, when Frances had announced she was pregnant: it was so soon after the wedding he simply wasn’t ready for it. It was such a corny response, his attraction to the new secretary rushing him away from his expanding wife at home towards the office, to the exchanged looks and the thrill of the proximity as she leaned over his desk to take notes on his letters, and the knowing that he couldn’t touch although they both wanted him to, it was forbidden . After a while the lunches started, then the staying late at the office, the intimate chats, as the tension grew between them. Andrew held out for as long as he could, but the day they’d had lunch and she'd broken down because her father was seriously ill, he’d offered to take her home, she was too upset to go back to work, he'd said, and he swore that at the time his motives had been honourable. She’d invited him in and as they waited for the kettle to boil she’d cried again and so of course he’d comforted her, and when they'd finally kissed the feeling had been extraordinary, like an adrenaline shot of danger and deceit, a physical reaction that had left him hooked – and wondering what hope his new marriage had.
When he arrived back in the office much later on that shape-shifting afternoon, there were three messages from Frances and then two more from the hospital. He felt sick. He sensed the disapproval from his colleagues as he rushed away, head down, to his wife. But afterwards his shock at having missed the actual births, but inexplicably was the father of twin daughters, just made his feelings for Victoria more intense. Within weeks he’d resumed the affair, despite the guilt, despite his promises to himself. It wasn’t only his passion for his secretary, it was also the need to escape from his dowdy exhausted wife and their screaming babies. He began to “work late” more often, spend less and less time at home, and eventually Frances stopped asking him when he’d be back, where he was, she just seemed to accept it. So that must mean she doesn’t really mind, he’d reasoned with himself, and this had made him feel better.
As Andrew continued his walk around the sad early morning Ways and Closes of the Telford estate he finally saw his betrayal for what it was. Abandonment. How could he have been married for less than a year with twin baby girls and become involved with someone else? He’d felt he couldn’t leave Frances physically, it just wasn’t done, so instead he left her emotionally, and in his place remained an insipid vague husband, an apathetic father, to babies who grew over the years into two very different girls, one calm and kind like her mother, the other flighty and neurotic.
It was only when Victoria finally put her foot down and ended the affair, after years and years of Andrew’s broken promises of, “When the girls are five, six, seven,” that Andrew had started his casual couplings at the dismal work events his sales job offered up. And if there was too big a gap between those opportunities he’d found himself turning to sessions in cheap Manchester hotels with middle-aged hookers. He despised himself.
Andrew checked the time – quarter past seven, he needed to start heading back. He really ought to call Frances before the conference started and see how Caroline was doing in the clinic – her weight had finally started to stabilise, and she was heading back towards six stone apparently. He felt such grief for his 15 year old
It had all started going wrong early on, when Frances had announced she was pregnant: it was so soon after the wedding he simply wasn’t ready for it. It was such a corny response, his attraction to the new secretary rushing him away from his expanding wife at home towards the office, to the exchanged looks and the thrill of the proximity as she leaned over his desk to take notes on his letters, and the knowing that he couldn’t touch although they both wanted him to, it was forbidden . After a while the lunches started, then the staying late at the office, the intimate chats, as the tension grew between them. Andrew held out for as long as he could, but the day they’d had lunch and she'd broken down because her father was seriously ill, he’d offered to take her home, she was too upset to go back to work, he'd said, and he swore that at the time his motives had been honourable. She’d invited him in and as they waited for the kettle to boil she’d cried again and so of course he’d comforted her, and when they'd finally kissed the feeling had been extraordinary, like an adrenaline shot of danger and deceit, a physical reaction that had left him hooked – and wondering what hope his new marriage had.
When he arrived back in the office much later on that shape-shifting afternoon, there were three messages from Frances and then two more from the hospital. He felt sick. He sensed the disapproval from his colleagues as he rushed away, head down, to his wife. But afterwards his shock at having missed the actual births, but inexplicably was the father of twin daughters, just made his feelings for Victoria more intense. Within weeks he’d resumed the affair, despite the guilt, despite his promises to himself. It wasn’t only his passion for his secretary, it was also the need to escape from his dowdy exhausted wife and their screaming babies. He began to “work late” more often, spend less and less time at home, and eventually Frances stopped asking him when he’d be back, where he was, she just seemed to accept it. So that must mean she doesn’t really mind, he’d reasoned with himself, and this had made him feel better.
As Andrew continued his walk around the sad early morning Ways and Closes of the Telford estate he finally saw his betrayal for what it was. Abandonment. How could he have been married for less than a year with twin baby girls and become involved with someone else? He’d felt he couldn’t leave Frances physically, it just wasn’t done, so instead he left her emotionally, and in his place remained an insipid vague husband, an apathetic father, to babies who grew over the years into two very different girls, one calm and kind like her mother, the other flighty and neurotic.
It was only when Victoria finally put her foot down and ended the affair, after years and years of Andrew’s broken promises of, “When the girls are five, six, seven,” that Andrew had started his casual couplings at the dismal work events his sales job offered up. And if there was too big a gap between those opportunities he’d found himself turning to sessions in cheap Manchester hotels with middle-aged hookers. He despised himself.
Andrew checked the time – quarter past seven, he needed to start heading back. He really ought to call Frances before the conference started and see how Caroline was doing in the clinic – her weight had finally started to stabilise, and she was heading back towards six stone apparently. He felt such grief for his 15 year old
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