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They thought their relationship had come through various stresses well enough, but they realised this was the first real challenge they’d been up against. And as it turned out, they weren’t up to it. Joe in particular found himself struggling to cope with the frustration he felt towards his daughter’s moods, biting his tongue and then taking it out on Charlotte. There were a series of quite unpleasant scenes.
The holiday last summer was supposed to have been their chance to reconcile, although by the time they’d got there it was already starting to feel like it might be too late. Jess had got back in touch, and invited them to come and stay; she and her husband, Stuart, had converted some barns on their land into holiday cottages, and they needed someone to test them out. Joe hadn’t been at all sure if it was a good idea. He was uncomfortable about seeing Jess again, besides anything else. But Charlotte had liked the notion of a country break. Fresh air, she’d said. Long walks. Give Becky a ch
ance to learn about nature.
As it happened, Becky had made friends with Jess and Stuart’s daughter, Sophie, and spent most of her time mooching around in the games shed or down at the village tea shop. But there had been no slammed doors, and the breathing space had been enough for him and Charlotte to remember what it was they liked about each other. By the end of the fortnight they’d already decided to come back for a New Year’s break, and they both felt that something had changed for the better between them; that they understood each other more clearly and would find a way to work out their differences. The unspoken suggestion that they might not make it, as a couple, seemed to have been left behind.
*
Just to be clear, she said. This isn’t changing anything, is it?
He looked at her, trying not to squint. His pyjama trousers were already down to his knees.
I mean, no, I don’t think so, he said. Is it? Does it?
No, she said. But I’d like to carry on.
She slipped her pyjama trousers to her ankles and kicked them to the bottom of the bed. She pulled him in towards her, feeling his old familiar willingness between her hands. She drew him all the way in. They’d stopped kissing. He was resting his forehead against her shoulder, rocking his hips gently back and forth as much from old habit as anything else.
*
When they came back in the winter the cottage felt smaller than they’d remembered. They’d imagined long bracing walks in crisp snow, but it had just rained endlessly and they were mostly stuck indoors. They almost hadn’t come at all. Things had been tense between them all autumn and they were on the verge of a decision. But Becky had kept in touch with Sophie after the summer, and was desperate to see her again. So they’d driven north, bringing all the Christmas leftovers and half a case of good wine, and over breakfast on the second morning they’d agreed they would get a divorce.
Becky had been up early, and gone across the yard to spend the morning with Sophie. There had been talk of going out for a walk, but the rain was so heavy that they’d agreed to leave it until later. They’d taken their time over breakfast, and the subject of their separation had come up only gradually, and they’d both been surprised by how easy it was. It came as a relief to them both. They agreed to talk to Becky about it later, when they went out for their walk.
*
They were still moving carefully together when Charlotte noticed that the light in the room had brightened, and the rain stopped. She turned towards the window, and they both stilled. Neither of them had yet finished, and it didn’t seem necessary now.
Looks like it’s clearing up, she said.
He nodded. They slipped apart. Think we can talk her into that walk, maybe after lunch? he asked.
I think we can try, she said.
They showered, and dressed, and went downstairs to look for Becky.
