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‘Have you had any more thoughts since we talked last night?’
‘I’m confused, more than anything,’ I tell her, honestly. ‘I hate James at the moment, and I can’t tell you how much I want to hurt him. I want him to feel every bit of the pain that I’m feeling. I know you think I should divorce him, and I am tempted. But then I also still love him. I can’t just turn that off, and lots of marriages survive infidelity, so maybe I should give him another chance. Oh God, it’s all such a mess in my head.’
‘I hear you,’ she replies, ‘but this isn’t him forgetting an anniversary. This is him committing the ultimate betrayal. He’s done the most intimate thing you can do, and something he vowed only to do with you, with another person. If Richard did that, his balls would be in the kitchen bin and I’d be taking him for everything he has. With me, it’s one strike and you’re out.’
‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying I’m planning to waltz back down there, forgive him, and rely on blind faith that he won’t do it again. Even I’m not that stupid. I’m just saying that I think I ought to hear him out, at least. There are two sides to every story, and maybe there are things I’ve done, or not done, that have contributed to his behaviour.’
‘How do you manage it?’ she asks.
‘What?’
‘Even when everything around you is falling apart, you still manage to be so…nice. That’s not a bad thing – it’s one of the things I love about you – but just once I’d like to see you lose your shit. It would help us mere mortals feel a bit better about ourselves.’
‘I’ve lost my shit plenty of times, trust me!’ I laugh. ‘The problem is that, while it’s very cathartic at the time, it usually makes everything much worse in the long run. So I’m trying to be rational, but there’s still a considerable risk of me taking to James’ wardrobe with the scissors and hiding raw prawns in the curtain poles before getting the hell out of there. It’s a fine line, and I’m not yet sure which side of it I’m going to come down on. Does that help?’
She smiles. ‘A little. Okay, tell me exactly how you think you could have contributed to your current situation. I’m curious.’
There’s a pause while I think, and we concentrate on our food. I can feel the heat from the chillies in the back of my nose and it’s a pleasant, warming sensation. James doesn’t like spicy food, so this is a welcome treat for me.
‘I think we’ve probably got ourselves into a bit of a rut,’ I observe, after I’ve spooned the last of the broth into my mouth.
‘In what way?’
‘Well, since his dad died, James has really had to step up on the farm. He worked pretty hard before, but now it’s relentless. There’s always something to do, or something that needs fixing, or some animal issue. Summer is the worst, because the days are long and he often doesn’t get home until nearly midnight, by which time I’m generally asleep. He’s usually up and out before I wake, so we can literally go for days at a time without seeing each other. And, when we do get time together, he’s always knackered. If he stays awake long enough for us to manage a conversation, all he wants to talk about is farming, which I don’t know anything about. It’s a little bit better in winter, but not much, because he still works late into the evening poring over the books or checking the weather forecast. Farmers are completely obsessed with the weather; did you know that? Sometimes I’ve resented him, because it’s felt like I’m his housekeeper more than his wife, and then I’ve felt guilty for feeling like that. It’s not his fault his father dropped dead and left him with all this to deal with.’
‘But none of this is your fault either, is it?’
‘No, but maybe I could have made more of an effort with him, learned a bit about farming and stayed up to ask him about his day, or something.’
Di snorts. ‘If he’s anything like Richard when he comes in late, you’d just get monosyllabic answers while he emptied a bottle of wine and then he’d fall into bed and snore the place down.’
‘Mm. James is more of a beer man.’ A thought occurs to me. ‘Maybe I could take up home brewing, so there was a fresh pint waiting for him when he got home!’
‘If I can give you one piece of advice that you’ll actually listen to – don’t try to fix this by being even nicer to him. That’s just rewarding his bad behaviour and encouraging it. If you decide to give him another chance, he needs to know that he’s on probation, otherwise there’s no incentive for him to change his ways. How’s the sex?’
I’m glad I’ve finished my broth, otherwise I’d be choking on it. I can feel the heat in my cheeks as a beetroot-red flush of embarrassment takes hold.
‘Are we really doing this?’ I ask.
‘Not if you don’t want to. But it’s a bit of an elephant in the room, isn’t it? Up to you. I’m pretty un-shockable, unless you’re into some seriously weird shit.’
‘No weird shit. We’ve always been pretty vanilla in that department, but I guess our sex life is in a bit of a rut too, if I’m honest,’ I finally manage.
‘A lot of that is marriage though, isn’t it? Richard and I are hardly swinging from the chandeliers these days. These things settle down and find their own rhythm. You find what you like and stick to it.’
‘Yes, but when we were trying to conceive, I think I probably got a bit obsessed. It wasn’t romantic any more; it was more business-like.’
‘What, like, “Quick, I’m fertile, get on with it”?’
‘Yes, and then I’d have to lie there for ages with my hips raised when he finished so there wasn’t much cuddling afterwards either.’
‘I don’t suppose he minded. He got what he wanted out of it, didn’t he?’
‘I guess so. But then, when nothing happened, and we went for the tests and found out that he was infertile, it’s like he just gave up. We hardly ever have sex now. Do you think he’s gone off me?’ A single tear escapes and rolls down my cheek. I dab it away with the napkin.
‘I doubt it. Look at you. You’re just as gorgeous as the day he married you.’
‘There must be something, though, mustn’t there? Some way in which I’m not enough for him.’
