Caroline Alone Ch. 04

"Dam, it's me, Caroline. I hope things are going fine. What do you say to me coming down to London on Saturday or Sunday? We could go to a show, have a meal, you know what. What do you say? It's what we always wanted."

There was a pause before her lover replied. "Look Caroline, I don't think that's a good idea. I've been pretty busy since we last spoke. Guess what? I lasted a week in my new job. The curse of the cheating wife strikes again. Someone rang my boss and told him the reason I left my old employer. Even sent him your asshole husband's email as proof I'm unsuitable to represent my illustrious new employer. Said my employment was cancelled because I'd failed to declare all relevant information in my application. Gave me a month's salary and said I was lucky to get that. So I don't have a job. I'm on the dole and don't have the cash to throw about on high maintenance mistresses. I'd do better to hire myself a cheap and cheerful tart."

"That's awful Dam. Oh, how dreadful." Caroline was struggling to adjust to this unexpected development.

"And I bet your shithole burglar and bully of a husband is wetting his pants in delight. Let's face it Caroline, you're bad news. You're like the clumsy innocent in those screwball comedies who walks into a shop and leaves mayhem and destruction everywhere he goes."

"Look Dam, I'm really sorry this has happened. What if I have another go at getting Jack to own up to the email?"

"Don't make fun of me. Why would that psychopath do anything to help his oh so loving wife, especially when it's for her lover? Try and be smart for once in your life."

"I am. I'm trying to stay positive and I've a great idea. Much better you come here. I'll cook for you and we'll be really comfortable. No need to spend money. I've had a busy week too so it'll be good for both of us to stay in and watch a few films."

"Come to your house? Do you think I'm stupid? What do you think we're going to do? Cuddle up in your sitting room and listen to DVDs? You talk as if I don't know you, don't know what we have between us. We'd end up in bed. That's what we do."

"We have more than that; so much more."

"We'd be in bed and that psychotic husband of yours would find out and he'd come after me and drag me out of the house by my balls. Afterwards you'd probably sit down with him and have a laugh about it."

"Jack's not here. He doesn't care what happens here now he's got the children. Be with me and we'll make one another better. Don't be afraid Dam, we can make this work."

"Truth is Caroline you're not exactly the person I'd choose to pick me up when I've had a setback. Since when have you cared about anyone but yourself? If you're being nice it's because you want something. You're not the kind to offer support. I always thought your husband must be a saint to put up with your fancy airs and your running around. Let's be honest: you're a good fuck, end of story."

"I didn't know that's how you felt," said Caroline. "Are you telling me there was never anything more than sex between us?"

"You know there wasn't. The rest was childish playacting on your part – a bit of excitement to make the week go faster. We got together and fucked. Fine by me – that's what I wanted. But you, you needed to pretend it was something more, that you were playing the role of some grande horizontale and thinking what a smart actress you were, happy so long as I flattered you like a diva and picked up the bills."

"That's cheap of you Damien."

"Cheap and accurate."

They were silent for a while. Then Caroline said, "Are you telling me it's over?"

"You said it. I'm skint, shafted, stuffed, busted, done over. It couldn't be more finished. It was a stupid affair and now I need to simplify my life. Penury isn't very sexy and right now I'd rather be in bed with an anaconda than have to deal with your carnivorous ways. Quit with the satisfaction of knowing you've dragged me into the gutter with you."

Caroline cried until she went to bed – uncomplicated tears of self-pity. In bed she went to sleep thinking of the clever put-downs she should have made to Damien. Mostly they were variations on a simple idea: "You bastard, you let me think you loved me and all the time you were lying." But alone in the bed she'd shared for so long with Jack the words tripped her up. Instead of the gratification of accusing Damien, she could only hear Jack using the same words against her. It wasn't true; she'd always loved Jack, but what he saw was betrayal and she heard the echo of her own words: "You let me think you loved me and all the time you were lying."

The next morning she woke with the energy to take charge of her life. She wrote out a list of what she must put right. It was a long list, but writing it felt good. First problem on the list, because it was the most pressing, was money. There was an obvious solution to her poverty – sell the house and find somewhere cheaper to live. She'd speak to Jack; he wasn't coming back and had no reason to object.

Then there were the children. They were with Jack now, but should she let them go to school in Brighton? Of course she wanted them with her; she hated to be alone; she hated them being away from her; and mum must always be best. But she knew they preferred to be with Jack and that his steadfast, reliable good-sense was what they needed. On her own she struggled with the punishing schedule of getting them to school and collecting them and making meals and getting them to bed. She became stressed and caused unnecessary confrontations and upsets, especially in the evening when they were all tired. They blamed her for driving Jack away and were too young to be told the true situation.

Respite came only when they were with Jack. Jack was right; she couldn't put her needs in front of theirs. She denied it to herself but when she spoke it aloud she knew they were better off with Jack. Everyone thought badly of her, but she would show her courage by doing the right thing, go to Brighton and inspect schools.

Work was the next problem. She hated her new job and was sure everyone guessed she'd been sidelined. Colleagues who'd once been craven were now bold enough to show she'd lost her power, openly flouting her demands. She blushed whenever she met someone she thought knew of her demotion and imagined everyone gossiped about her situation behind her back. Loss of authority led to loss of confidence. The only way was to find a new job and start afresh, but she was well paid for what she did and she needed every pound she could earn. It was only her pride that got her to work every day.

Then there was Jack. She accepted reluctantly that he wasn't coming back. She'd have stood a chance of winning him over, she thought, now she'd lost Damien, if it hadn't been for Hazel. But she knew Jack. Hazel had snared him and there was no way he was ever going to escape. One day, but not for a long time, she'd cry for her lost marriage; she couldn't now because it was too painful to admit her part in its destruction. All the same, she could fight for a shred of Jack's friendship and even, in time, win back his respect. She must try for the good of the children – and because it mattered to her.

Lastly she had to examine herself – a failure from every point of the compass. The weekend after Damien gave her the push, she drove the hundred miles north to stay with her parents. They were pleased to see her, listened to her story and never once criticised her. They asked about Jack and the children and did their best to hide their disappointment that they wouldn't be seeing them. She told them she'd ask Jack if they could come to Brighton to visit the children and they thanked her with dignity. She spent the weekend in bed, ate her mother's meals and felt a little better when she returned home. All the same, she was burdened by the weight of her parents' disappointment and knew they were hiding their true feelings to protect and support her. That's what good parents did.

In spite of everything, she continued to believe she'd done the right thing. Her mistake was not in having the affair, but in failing to keep it secret; and when it was discovered, lacking the swift-wittedness to convince Jack he should let it take its course. Her love for Damien was genuine, despite his brutal rejection, and it would have been cowardice to go against nature and play safe. She took a risk and came out the loser. But that didn't make it wrong. She wasn't going to let anyone say: "She got what she deserved".

She took a week's leave and rang Jack to tell him she wanted some time with the children and to look at the schools. He was kind, asked how she was doing and whether the money situation was any better. He suggested she stay in his flat with the children and he'd sleep with Hazel. She accepted gratefully, knowing she had Hazel to thank for his charity.

It became a week of bizarre situations. Jack did everything he could to help her, trying his hardest to anticipate awkward situations and make her comfortable. At first she thought he did it to get her to agree to the divorce he now said he wanted, or for the benefit of the children, but she realised he did it for Hazel. He was determined to show his lover he could be civilised and charitable and help a woman in trouble.

Jack came to dinner in the evenings because the children demanded to have their parents together. They sat around the table and Ben and Amy willed them to say nice things to one another. And they did. Jack no longer flinched when she came near him and they kissed cheeks on meeting. He asked about her work and she told him about the change of duties, although without explaining the reason. He talked about his research and the chances of getting more teaching hours. The children listened to their parents enthralled, and she wondered what they were thinking. They knew Jack loved Hazel and must realise their parents would never get back together. And she knew they loved Hazel too, because they talked about her incessantly. Their world had been broken apart and they must imagine she would be pleased to hear how wonderful Hazel was, relieved that some good had come out of the disaster.

She and Jack agreed to sell the house and split the proceeds. They discussed divorce and agreed on an amicable arrangement which would minimise legal fees.

"I'll do it because I know you want it Jack. I'd rather stay married to you, and not just for the children. I'd wait to see whether one day we could be together again."

"Too much has happened. You can't put the egg back in its shell," replied Jack.

He brought food and wine for the meals, suggested places to take the children and asked how she was doing. Damien wasn't mentioned. She wanted to tell him it was over, but why bother? Jack wasn't coming back and it would only give him the satisfaction of knowing he'd won in the end.

They discussed schools and she visited those on a list they drew up together. Once more Jack was right; the children would be better off in Brighton.

Another mad scene in a mad and strangely happy week: she invited Hazel to come to the evening meal and Jack played with the children while she and Hazel helped one another in the kitchen, mashing potatoes, making gravy and dishing up the meal. She noticed Jack watching this with an air of mild bemusement, but everyone was happy.

Hazel, it seemed, was without anger or jealousy. Now Jack would allow Caroline to kiss him and even, once in a while, get her arm round him and give him a squeeze. He'd grin uncomfortably and Hazel would smile, secure in his love. Seated round the table with a glass of wine and laughing at her children's stories, she was struck by the irony of her situation. When she was in love with Damien, she'd expected Jack to accept her lover. Now the positions were reversed. Her lover was gone and it was she who was expected to smile and be brave as her husband kissed his lover. For all that, she enjoyed the meal and invited Hazel again.

Of course she went to bed alone and then she couldn't avoid a nightmare of jealousy and resentment. Her family had been taken from her and she was left with nothing. Others were happy and she was not.

The house went on the market and sold almost at once. She gave away most of the contents because Jack wanted nothing and she had nowhere to store what was left. Her plan was to rent a flat, but on the spur of the moment she resigned her job and went to live with her parents. They welcomed her, gave her back her childhood bedroom and cleared out another room for the children when they came. Her father even gave her pocket money and paid her petrol so she could collect the children. She was back where she'd been fifteen years before, a school leaver waiting to go to University, living resentfully with her parents, lonely and poor and uncertain what she wanted from life.

With nothing else to do, she made an effort to get in touch with a few people she knew from school who had stayed in the locality. They now had big houses, intimidating corporate husbands and hordes of boisterous children. Only once was she careless enough to explain the circumstances of her marriage breakdown and was met by such incomprehension she never mentioned it again.

She found a job eventually as a clerical assistant in an accountancy practice. It was tedious work and poorly paid but freed her from the humiliation of taking her father's pocket money. The children were now with Jack in the week in term and she visited or collected at the weekend. At half term she brought them home to her parents and did her best to make a home for them, always feeling they'd rather be on the south coast with the beach down the road and Jack and Hazel to make a cheerful home. To rub it in, Amy announced one day she was a vegan and refused to eat the meal her grandmother had cooked. It caused consternation all round until the next day Amy made it clear she thought chicken and cheese were allowed.

Caroline was still living with her parents when the children had moved into the new school year and Christmas had come and gone. She'd fallen into a depressed state where, loneliness, boredom, poverty, lack of stimulation from work and exhaustion from long journeys to collect the children had combined to leave her incapable of positive action. The real issue, she knew, was that she was hiding from her future. She'd failed in her life and lacked the confidence to make things better. Her parents treated her as if she had suffered a breakdown and never knew what to say to her, afraid of making things worse.

The divorce eventually came through and that was another bad day. She went out to protect her parents from her misery.

The irony of her new life was that she looked forward most to her visits to Brighton. The Friday after the divorce, she drove to Brighton, saw almost nothing of Jack because he had evening classes to teach, and drove home with the children. They were eating dinner, having arrived back late at her parents, when Amy announced, "Daddy and Hazel are getting married."

There hadn't been much conversation before; now there was silence. Caroline saw her parents staring at her and eventually managed to say, "They must be very happy, but I'm surprised. I didn't know Hazel believed in marriage."

"It's because she's having a baby," explained Ben.

"How do you know that?" Caroline demanded.

"I was listening to Hazel and Dad talking. I hope it means the baby's my proper brother and not just a half."

Again her parents said nothing, looking at her to say the right thing. Caroline made a big effort to collect her thoughts. "That's not how it works Ben. It's half because our family is split in two. You're half my family, half Jack and Hazel's."

"So I have two families – one here and one in Brighton?"

'Shut up Ben!' Caroline wanted to shout, but her own voice spoke quietly to her alone: "And I had two lovers. Two isn't double one and I have nobody to love me now."

She felt she was being crushed under an immense weight. Her self-serving lies collapsed and she understood what she'd done. Whatever she'd gained from her liaison with Damien had cost everything she had – house, job and husband. She was back where she'd started with nothing to show for the fifteen years between. She had her children, but only half of them. They were hurt and looked at her with angry, accusing eyes. They knew she'd driven away their father and they'd never forgive her. She looked at the faces round the table – they all knew it; it was only she who'd not been able to see what she'd done.

"The baby may be a girl," said Amy. "If she's only half my sister she can be half someone else's. I won't mind."

Caroline rushed from the table and shut herself in her room. Alone in bed, she cried all night. For the first time she accepted that she hadn't just experienced bad luck, she'd been wrong. Whatever she'd won had been insubstantial, like a gambler who puts the housekeeping budget on an outsider and wins. Winning once only made eventual disaster more certain. And winning gave a momentary buzz for which she paid with the desolation of her whole life.

Ben sat with her after breakfast next morning, irritable and unable to settle on anything to do.

'Mum, do you mind being alone?'

She shook her head.

'Is Hazel your friend too?'

'I think she's very nice.'

'Will you get married again like Dad?'

She wanted to say "No", but said instead, "I'll do everything I can to make sure you see as much of Jack and me as you can."

She knew Ben found it easier to accept Hazel than would be the case if she introduced him to a boyfriend of hers. And if she had a partner she was sure Jack would be less willing to spend time with her – which was all the children wanted. It made her cross, but whenever she suggested to the children that they go out somewhere for a treat, one of them, usually Amy, would say: "Can dad come too?" She'd say this even when she knew he was working two hundred miles away.

Another worry gripped her late in the night. Her children loved her because she was their mother, but they trusted Hazel more. It was Hazel who made sure no harm came to them while she was alone and far away. She'd let them down, so they were right to trust Hazel. They'd learn to love Hazel and when she was old they would visit only out of duty. Hazel would be the grandmother to their children.

She was the cause of all this. There was no one else to blame. And she was damaged too. Never again could she anticipate a relationship of give and take, of trust on both sides, of equality where each knows the other is both strong and weak in all kinds of ways, but will bust a muscle to do the right thing when it matters. People act badly, not out of a desire to gain unfair advantage over others, but because they see life through the distorting lens of self-interest. She'd never trust herself to another relationship because she'd never be confident she could behave honourably.

Caroline didn't expect to go to the wedding, but told Jack she'd have the children while he and Hazel were on their honeymoon. The invitation to the wedding, when it came, was a pleasant surprise. Better to be there than be alone. And she should be there – for the past, for Jack, and for her children.

Apart from making an inordinate effort with her appearance, she made no preparation for the day. Her main objective was to remain calm.

It was a modest event – a civil ceremony at the registry office and a reception in a room at the University. Hazel's mother and sisters were there and some of her colleagues from work, but Jack had nobody. His parents were dead and no friends had survived the divorce and his change of job. It occurred to Caroline as she moved among these people, most of whom had reason to dislike her, that she was there as Jack's one friend. It allowed her to feel a little less like the Ghost of Christmas Past.