The Full Legacy by Jane Retzig Page A

the pretence that everything’s okay for another day. God knows, I’m still really fond of Mary, but just lately she’s been a right royal pain in the arse and I certainly haven’t fancied her for years. Funny thing is... it took me ages to even accept that myself.... Recently, we’ve only really made love because she still wants to and she feels hurt and rejected if I don’t. After a while, it’s hard to keep on doling out that kind of charity. I’m getting to the stage where I only have to see that pathetic, yearning look on her face and I feel sick.’
    She balanced her knife and fork on the side of her plate and looked up to make eye contact again. I thought she was going to add something. Then she looked as if she could hardly even be bothered trying to explain it to me. She made a semi-disgusted ‘Phah’ noise and focused her attention firmly back on her lunch.
    ‘I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,’ she muttered. ‘How can you even begin to know what that feels like?’
    She meant, of course, that in her eyes, I was never likely to be the one to get tired of anybody. I picked up my spoon and began to eat, trying hard not to be offended.
    The trifle tasted good now I’d got round to trying it. It was probably even quite healthy. It had real fruit in it – apples and oranges and stuff. It was getting increasingly hard for me to swallow though. I knew Suzanne was being honest, and I thought, really, I ought to respect her for that. The way she was doing it bothered me though. I kept thinking about Mary and how hurt she’d be if she could hear this. And deeper than that, even, I kept thinking how hurt I’d be if I thought anybody would ever say anything like that about me.
    Around us, life went on. The day was hot. The smell of wholesome cooking vied for airspace with the bitter tang of freshly ground coffee. People talked with varied degrees of volume control.
    ‘I think I’ll settle for Jeremy,’ said one particularly plummy woman to her companion. ‘He is more my intellectual equal.’
    ‘A male baboon brain,’ muttered Suzanne. ‘How terribly bloody marvellous!’
    I knew that I was only just beginning to see the full force of her anger and frustration. She was strung out like a sleek and disgruntled animal in a cage. I watched as she crunched viciously on her salad.
    I should have made my excuses and fled back to work right then. But something drove me on. ‘If you feel so trapped,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you just leave?’
    Suzanne threw me a look of utter contempt.
    ‘Because,’ she said. ‘I’m terrified that she’d throw herself under a bus or something.’
    I recoiled inwardly, shocked. All those years together, and that was what kept her there?
    The dark, heavy paranoid feeling was almost familiar now as it writhed and twisted through my guts.
    ‘Don’t be daft.’ I said, more to reassure myself than anything else. ‘Nobody’s that important to anyone else.’
    ‘Oh yeah? Well, that’s fine coming from you, after the way you clung onto Corinne.’
    This is what happens when you corner people.
    I gasped.
    Suzanne’s eyes held mine as I struggled to get back to myself. Her glare was icy.
    In retrospect, I wondered why I’d done it, asking to speak to her that day. I knew how angry she was about Turner. So maybe that was the whole point. Maybe I knew that, just for once, someone was angry enough with me to tell me the truth.
    I fought back tears as I struggled to regain my equilibrium.
    ‘I never did.’ I protested, knowing in my heart that I had.
    Suzanne knew it too, and smiled on her victory lap.
    ‘Corinne was terrified to leave you,’ she said. ‘She thought you’d fall apart.’
    Finally, I found my voice. I tried to keep the tremor out of it but I knew I was going to have to talk fast before the tears overwhelmed me.
    ‘Well,’ I said, hardly recognising myself anymore. My eyes were burning. I could almost have choked on the lump in my throat. I