Seeing Other People (23 page)

My toast popped. I walked to the fridge, took out the margarine and then my phone rang. I checked the screen hoping it would be one of the Divorced Dads’ Club at a loose end as I could have done with the company, but it wasn’t, it was Penny, no doubt calling to read me the riot act for hijacking her afternoon with the kids. I was tempted to let it go to voicemail but the age-old fear that something bad had happened to the kids stopped me.

‘Joe, it’s me,’ she said. ‘I want to talk about earlier.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I replied. ‘I got the message. You’re probably right: the last thing we need to do is screw things up while we’re sorting things out in counselling.’

‘Well actually,’ said Penny, ‘I’ve been thinking that . . . well maybe we could do with spending some time together outside of counselling without the kids doing something, I don’t know . . . fun.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘I don’t know, like a date.’

‘A date?’ I rolled the idea around for a moment. I used to be good at dates. Not that I’d been on one in about twenty years but the idea of spending time with Penny outside of Rob’s office and away from the kids really appealed. ‘Do you know what? That’s a brilliant idea and I know exactly what we should do.’

23

As the house lights dimmed and a shirtless Van resplendent in tight bright red PVC trousers, furry white boots and the worst blond rock mullet wig I’d ever seen strode across the stage to join the rest of his band, Penny – who was laughing so hard that the contents of her pint glass were spilling over her hands – leaned into me. ‘This guy is actually a friend of yours?’ she yelled into my ear over the opening bars of ‘Hot For Teacher’. ‘Where did you find him?’

‘Long story,’ I yelled back, ‘and yeah, he’s a little wacky on the outside but on the inside he is a true diamond in the rough.’

It had been years since Penny and I had been out together to see a band play live at a small, amateur pub gig like we used to back when we were students and so the idea of taking her to see Man Halen supporting the Gary Numan tribute band, Numan’s Humanoids, in a down-at-heel King’s Cross boozer had been something of a gamble but thankfully Penny had warmed to the idea straight away. ‘It’ll be like the old days,’ she’d joked. ‘I might even dig out my black woollen tights and eyeliner just for the occasion.’ She had however turned up at the pub looking incredibly cool in a baggy grey jumper, skinny jeans and calf-length boots. With her hair swept up under a hat, she looked ten years younger and as she strode across the room searching for me it was impossible not to clock the half-dozen guys in my periphery straining their necks to get a better look. I was so nervous I felt sick and as I waved her over I mused how surreal this experience was and wondered whether there was any date in the world more difficult than a first date with your own wife. But this was exactly what we needed: an opportunity to remember that we weren’t just parents, or estranged husband and wife, but rather two people who a very long time ago met and made the decision that they wanted to be together forever.

‘So, I’m intrigued,’ said Penny as the song ended and Van – without the merest hint of irony – asked the twenty-plus-strong crowd who weren’t queuing at the bar for a drink if they were ready to rock. ‘What’s his story?’

‘New Zealand guy likes Van Halen so much that he moves to the UK, gets married, changes his name by deed poll to that of his favourite guitarist and starts South London’s premier Van Halen tribute band.’

Penny laughed. ‘Where’s his wife? I have to see her. Is she all Spandex and big eighties hair?’

‘She’s not here,’ I yelled as the next song started. I grabbed Penny’s hand and we moved towards the back of the room so that we could talk. ‘They’re divorced,’ I explained. ‘That’s sort of how I know him,’ and then I reluctantly proceeded to tell Penny a truncated version of the story of the Divorced Dads’ Club. ‘It’s weird how it’s all worked out,’ I said in conclusion, ‘me getting friendly with a bunch of guys I interviewed for an article but somehow it just works.’

I wondered what was going through Penny’s mind. Would she think worse of me knowing that I was hanging out with a bunch of divorced guys? That I was somehow picking up their bad habits by social osmosis?

‘These past few months have been tough for all of us,’ said Penny thoughtfully, ‘and if the guys you’ve told me about have helped you to cope then I’m pleased for you.’

We turned back to the stage and watched the rest of the gig in awe as much to the – mostly Numanoid – crowd’s delight, Van, channelling the spirit of David Lee Roth, sprinted through hit after hit, the set culminating with a blistering version of Van Halen’s biggest hit, ‘Jump’
,
that Penny enjoyed so much she even dragged me to the front so that we could dance. We jumped up and down like idiots and it was the best feeling ever as it reminded me that youth wasn’t like the skin of a snake that you sloughed off and never saw again but rather a feeling that you tuck away because you think you don’t need it any more and it’s only when you come across it by accident that you realise just how much fun it really is.

When the band finally left the stage with a ‘Thanks, King’s Cross, you’ve been a great crowd!’ Penny and I whooped and cheered so loudly that you’d have been forgiven for thinking we’d just seen the Rolling Stones play at Hyde Park in 1969 rather than witnessed a bunch of middle-aged rockers living out their fantasies. But that was how we felt. Triumphant. Victorious. Like we were back at the beginning of our lives together when everything was fresh and new.

‘That was the best fun I’ve had in years,’ said Penny, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. ‘Can you imagine what the kids would say if they could see us now?’

‘Easily,’ I replied. ‘Rosie hates it when I sing along to the radio let alone add in a dance routine, so the sight of both her parents displaying exhibitionist tendencies in public would be enough to put her off interacting with either of us for life.’

Penny laughed. She had such a gorgeous smile. ‘But Jack would like it, wouldn’t he?’

‘He’d love it,’ I replied, wondering if they were asleep yet. They were staying over at Penny’s mum’s house for the night and they tended to go to bed later there as a treat. ‘But then again he’s not exactly what you’d call discerning.’

In need of a drink we made our way to the bar and were soon joined by Van, still shirtless, bewigged and dripping with sweat.

‘Dude, you came!’ he bellowed and enveloped me in a sweaty overenthusiastic man-hug.

‘Of course I did. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You were amazing.’

‘We were weren’t we?’ said Van. ‘Must have been something in the air.’ He looked over at Penny. ‘Is this the missus? You never told me she was so bloody gorgeous!’ He gave a dramatic flourish with his hands and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Great to meet you! I’m Van and Joey here is one righteous dude.’

Penny – clearly amused at the incongruity of a mild-mannered mother of two chatting to a shirtless six foot tall New Zealander wearing a blond mullet wig – succumbed to a fit of the giggles. ‘I need to buy you a drink,’ she said to Van once she’d composed herself. ‘You’ve cheered me up more in the last forty-five minutes than any pair of shoes, box of chocolates or bottle of wine has ever done.’ She kissed Van’s cheek. ‘Thank you!’

It was late as Penny and I stood outside the house watching the minicab that had brought us from King’s Cross to Lewisham pull away.

‘I can’t remember the last time I was out in town this late,’ said Penny, the flickering streetlight casting strange shadows on her face. ‘It’s almost like being a student again.’

‘I wish we were students,’ I replied. ‘Compared to now we were practically millionaires. Do you remember the pound a pint nights down at the union?’

Penny laughed. ‘I’m surprised you can the way you and your mates used to knock them back. Didn’t I wake up one morning to find you asleep in the bath?’

‘I was on the loo and I wasn’t asleep. I was just dozing.’

‘Dozing? You were practically unconscious!’

We both laughed and she put her arms around me, resting her head against my chest. I closed my eyes taking in the moment: the smell of her hair, the sensation of her body against mine, the warmth between us. This was the place I wanted to be forever. Hers were the only arms I wanted to hold me from now until the end of time. How had I ever taken anything about this woman for granted? She was unique. A one-off. And though I didn’t deserve her I knew that from this moment onwards I would do everything I could to treasure her. Things would be different this time round. I would be a better husband, a better father, and I’d never hurt her again for as long as I lived.

Penny looked up. ‘Listen, I really want to thank you for a great night. I know that we said we’d talk about . . . you know, everything . . . but it’s been so good to—’

‘Just be normal for a while?’

Penny smiled. ‘That’s it exactly. So thank you, Joe, thank you for that.’ She kissed my cheek lightly. ‘I suppose I’d better go in. Will you be all right getting home?’

‘I’ll be fine, but I think that if I am going to be the perfect gentleman the very least I should do is walk you to your door.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ smiled Penny. She took my arm and together we walked up the path. She opened the front door.

‘I suppose this is goodbye,’ I said hopefully.

Penny looked down. ‘I think it’s for the best. But we’ll talk soon, OK?’

‘Of course,’ I said breezily, hoping the disappointment didn’t show. ‘We’ll definitely talk soon.’

For a moment neither of us moved and then Penny said something like, ‘It’s getting a bit chilly,’ and leaned in to kiss my cheek and as she did I pulled her into me and before either of us knew exactly what we were doing we were inside the house pressed up against the hallway wall removing each other’s clothing. Gradually we manoeuvred our way into the living room, flopping onto the sofa as overwhelmed with desire we began making the kind of love that we hadn’t made in years. This was young love, urgent love and new love all rolled into one. It was all-consuming passion, at least I thought so until sensing that something was wrong I opened my eyes to see tears streaming down Penny’s face.

I wiped away her tears with my hand. ‘What’s wrong? I didn’t hurt you did I?’

Penny shook her head as though unable to speak.

‘Penny, please, tell me what’s wrong. Whatever you say, it’ll be OK.’

‘I still don’t trust you,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘I thought I could but I can’t. I don’t think I ever will.’ She stood up and began to put on her clothes.

‘Penny, wait, let’s talk about this.’

‘I’m tired of talking, Joe,’ she said through tears. ‘The counselling isn’t working is it? You must see that too? Every time I think I’ve moved on I find myself getting pulled back to the moment you told me what you’d done. I can’t keep going around in circles. I can’t keep thinking that this is just Mum and Dad all over again. I think we should draw a line under this and both try to move on.’

‘What do you mean? Move on? Move on how?’

‘I want a divorce.’

‘You don’t mean that. You can’t.’

‘That’s just the thing,’ she said. ‘I do, Joe, I really do.’

I’m not at all sure how I got home that night; I felt like I was in a daze the whole way there so when I opened my front door to see Fiona waiting for me in the hallway I wasn’t in the least surprised.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked, letting the magazine she’d been reading fall from her hands. ‘I was worried about you.’

I stared at her wordlessly.

‘Had a bad night?’

Without speaking, I walked past her into the kitchen and took out a bottle of vodka from the freezer and grabbed a glass from the cupboard next to it.

‘Come on Joe, it can’t be that bad, surely? What answers do you hope to find at the bottom of a booze bottle?’ She delivered the line with the deliberate addition of a northern accent as though she were reading it straight from a vintage
Coronation Street
script.

I poured myself a large shot of vodka, knocked it back in one go, poured another and headed into the living room.

‘Penny wants a divorce,’ I announced as Fiona followed me into the room.

‘I know,’ she replied, sitting down on the sofa next to me. ‘I honestly didn’t see that coming . . .’ She stopped and laughed. ‘Who am I kidding? It couldn’t have been any clearer. To be honest, I’m actually surprised she’s not said it long before now.’

‘It was just one night and it never meant a thing. I don’t understand. Why can’t she just forgive me?’

‘Was that what you were banking on then? Penny being so forgiving that she wouldn’t hold it against you?’

‘I wasn’t banking on anything.’

‘Not even a little bit?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Didn’t a tiny bit of you think that even if you did get found out Penny would have to forgive you because she had too much to lose?’

I found myself getting angry. ‘No, of course not, I didn’t think like that. I . . .’

Fiona smiled wryly. ‘Wasn’t thinking?’

She’d taken the words right out of my mouth.

24

To say that relations between Penny and me broke down after our date and the events which followed would have been an extreme understatement. It was almost as though we became two completely different people. In an instant all the warmth and affection we’d managed to build up over the past few days evaporated and now every exchange between us was either perfunctory to the point of rudeness or suffused with unconcealed bitterness. And while there was no immediate action on the divorce front I didn’t take that as a sign that things were going to get better any time soon because true to her word she unilaterally cancelled all of our future appointments with Rob the counsellor. It was like being thrown back to the beginning in those nightmarish days after she first found out about Bella. We hadn’t moved on an inch and for days on end I felt so low that I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Fiona had taken up permanent residence in my living room but, it seemed, even she’d abandoned me.