Chapter Twenty
February 2015
Theo had been working hard towards a promotion over the last year and it meant that time together had been limited. At Christmas, Lydia had put her foot down and made him take time off, and apart from the inevitable winter bugs that went around and had them both in bed sick for days, they’d at least been together. One day, both nursing horrendous colds, they’d been tucked in bed and Lydia had lain there worrying Theo was gambling again. But she’d come to the conclusion he wasn’t, because this time he was different. He wasn’t high on life and pumped full of adrenalin, spending up big on whatever he could; he was quieter, more serious, focused, and Lydia knew he was working towards a better future for them. Once he had this promotion he’d be able to settle into a more normal routine and things would go back to normal again.
But Theo’s plans didn’t work out, and he came home one dismal February morning and told Lydia that he hadn’t got the promotion, it had gone to someone else.
‘I know how hard you worked.’ She put her arms around him, not that it would do much good. He was devastated. ‘There’ll be other promotions.’
He pulled away then and went for a shower.
Lydia tidied her desk after she’d sent her latest article about the trouble with office politics, of all things, and went downstairs to make dinner. Theo showered for longer than usual and she was beginning to wonder whether she’d have to keep his meal warm when he appeared.
‘I really am sorry, you know.’ Lydia decided it was better to come out with it than have him stew for too long. Maybe he’d even talk about it.
‘Like you said, there’ll be other promotions.’ He speared a piece of pasta with his fork. ‘Just that I thought this one was a sure thing.’
They ate the rest of the dinner in silence but Theo seemed to relax when they curled up and watched a couple of his favourite shows on television. Sometimes they’d fight over what to watch but Lydia just wanted to be there tonight. He didn’t give any more details of the promotion, barely told her anything, but she was sure the anger would pass.
When she snuggled up closer to Theo, he lifted her chin with his fingers and kissed her and before long took her by the hand and led her up to the bedroom.
Their breathing was ragged as they tugged at clothes they then cast aside, as Lydia lay back on the bed and pulled Theo on top of her. They hadn’t made love in weeks with Theo being stressed out, and she knew he’d missed it as much as she had.
Theo took his time, pleasured her first until she called out his name, her mouth still on his and her hands in his hair. She wrapped her legs around him waiting for him to enter her but he pulled back and it wasn’t long before she realised why.
‘What’s wrong?’ She put a hand on his cheek, cringed on his behalf because she knew how mortified he was that he couldn’t make love to her physically. It hadn’t happened before and she had no idea how to react. Was it her? Wasn’t she appealing enough tonight? Had something changed?
‘Nothing.’ He got up and disappeared into the bathroom and Lydia almost went after him. But Theo was a man’s man and not being able to perform was pretty much the worst thing that could happen to him, she knew. Even worse than not getting that damn promotion.
‘Theo, talk to me,’ she said, the second he emerged from the bathroom. She watched him pull on his jeans, button up the fly. ‘It must happen—’
‘Donotsay it happens to lots of men. Because that wouldn’t help, Lydia.’ He couldn’t meet her eye. ‘I’ll be downstairs.’
She was usually comfortable lying naked but not now. She took out a pair of pyjamas and pulled them on, went into the bathroom and washed her face, and when she looked at her reflection in the mirror she told herself that everything was going to be fine.
But it wasn’t. Not that night when he came to bed and couldn’t face her, instead facing the wall rather than spooning her or at least resting a limb near hers. And worse still, it happened again the week after.
They didn’t try again for weeks after that. Neither of them went near the other one. Instead they indulged in petty bickering. She’d nag him over the slightest thing – leaving dirty socks on the bedroom floor, too lazy to put them in the laundry; leaving the bread bag open on the kitchen bench so that when she came downstairs to make some lunch it had gone stale. He’d nag her about leaving only a splash of milk in the carton in the fridge, not putting out the rubbish and taking too long in the bathroom. They were all petty gripes but they’d taken to them as though it were a new Olympic sport they were both desperate to win.
‘Have you seen my light blue shirt?’ Theo asked one night, months after the first incident and months after they’d last been intimate. They were due to meet friends in the city for dinner.
‘I’m not your maid,’ she snapped back at him. ‘Try the ironing basket.’ She wondered why they were going out tonight at all when they could barely be civil to each other.
He groaned and schlepped away and by the time she got downstairs he was standing at the ironing board, ironing the shirt he was looking for.
‘Are you nearly ready?’ She pushed in diamond teardrop earrings, the ones he’d bought her last Christmas.
He shot her a look that said clearly he was in the middle of something, couldn’t she see that?
She moved closer. ‘What do you think?’
‘What do I think of what?’ he asked.
‘If you looked at me you’d know what I was talking about.’
When he looked she lifted her hair so he could see the earrings. ‘Do you like them?’
He hung the finished shirt on a hanger, switched off the iron and surprised her when he pulled her close. He was all warm, his bare skin against her and the fresh zing of shower gel and shampoo enveloping her. ‘They look great, you look great.’ He didn’t let her go.
