As Good As Guitars Ch. 11

October 2011

One of the perks of being a journalist is that you get invited to an inordinate number of parties. Tonight it's a formal ball and auction in Bath to raise funds for Mind, and I'll be strictly off-duty as I've been asked to play a part in the proceedings.

I don't particularly enjoy black-tie events, although I'm getting better at them with practice. This one will be more bearable than usual - tonight Gil and I are officially going public. It's the first week of the off-season, and the first time he's been able to join me at an event. We've been dating for nine months now, but his schedule's so packed during the racing season that he doesn't often have time for parties. He's fiercely protective of our snatched weekends together, and any socialising doesn't usually extend much past beers with his London friends. So, odd as it sounds, the papers have largely been unaware of my existence.

I inspect my reflection carefully, wanting to look my best for the photographers and resisting the temptation to add more eyeliner. Hopefully I won't look too awful next to Gil, who would look good in a potato sack.

At 8pm sharp there's a knock on my door. When I open it, the sight of Gil in a tux makes me catch my breath. "Wow, you look great. You should definitely get togged-up more often."

He smiles as he walks into the room. "I could say the same to you. Give me a twirl."

I turn around for him, enjoying his admiration. He steps close, smoothing his hand down my back. "I like this dress." His hand drops lower. "I also like the body inside it. Are you wearing underwear?"

I smack his hand away in mock-annoyance. "A well-behaved boyfriend wouldn't ask that question. Certainly not when there isn't time now for him to find out the answer." He pouts, so I kiss him. "I might make time later, if you like. D'you think anyone would notice if we slipped away for a few minutes during dinner?"

He groans. "Carry on like that and you won't be going to any dinner. I'll have you here and now instead."

"Don't tempt me..." I summon self-control. "Do you need anything before we leave?"

"Not that you're going to let me have." He grins, and we make our way to the ball.

After the meal - during which we remain demurely in our seats - and the speeches, the auction begins. I've been asked to parade the prizes on stage - a role that should have died out with 80s quiz shows but sadly hasn't. Finally the last bids are placed and the last lot won, and I'm free to find Gil and hit the dance floor.

Walking back to our table, I stop in surprise. Gil's glaring at a couple seated nearby, his expression murderous. Confused, I look at them to see a well-dressed man, probably in his 50s, accompanied by a young woman. There's nothing obvious to provoke such a reaction. The man looks like a well-heeled businessman, perhaps a CEO out on a corporate jolly. The woman is glamorous, her dark hair piled high, her dress drawing subtle attention to her slender figure. It looks as if they may be fighting - his body language seems slightly nervous and her expression is stern.

I walk over to Gil, who's still staring. "Sweetheart, I'm back. May I have this dance?"

He doesn't look up. "Uh, yeah. Sure."

His voice slurs, and there are several empty wine glasses by his hand. Now I'm really puzzled - he rarely drinks that much. "Are you okay?" He ignores me and I try again. "Do you know them? I'm surprised they haven't noticed you." As if she's heard me, the woman glances across at us before turning away deliberately. The man's facing in the other direction and seems oblivious.

"Gil?"

He finally looks up at me, his eyes glazed. "Sorry babe. You go on ahead and I'll follow you in a moment. I just want to do something first."

I loathe being called babe, and Gil knows it. "Would you like me to distract him so that you can talk to her privately?" My voice is sharp.

He has the grace to blush. "I just want to... I didn't realise she..." He stops. "She's... a friend... I didn't know she'd be here. I just want to say hello."

"If that's the way you glare at your friends, I'd hate to be an enemy. I'll leave you to it." I stalk off, upset and confused.

I cross the room to an inconspicuous doorway. Gil barely seems to notice I've gone. As I watch he sways to his feet and approaches the couple. The woman sees him coming and stands to intercept him, saying something briefly to her companion and then steering Gil to an empty space at the edge of the room. Interesting - she didn't want the two men to meet.

// Mark, what an unexpected pleasure. Why don't we step outside for a moment? How much have you had to drink?

Not enough. //

I can't hear them over the sound of the party, but I can see them clearly. I'm uneasy as I speculate over who she is and what her relationship with my boyfriend might be. Gil's visibly angry, although she looks calm. I wish I could lip-read.

// What do you want, Mark? I'm busy.

What the fuck are you doing here?

I'm working. And I'd appreciate it if you left me to work in peace.

What's the matter, don't I pay you enough? You having to tout for extra business?

You and I don't have an exclusive agreement.

Who is he? Some old codger who can't get it up unless you beat him?

My clientele is none of your business. Are you quite finished?

He's the one who's finished. Leave him here and come home with me.

Mark, you're drunk and you're out of line.

I'll show you a better time than he possibly could.

Don't be ridiculous. And in case you've forgotten, you're here with your girlfriend. //

Gil grabs her wrist, pulling at her.

// She won't mind. Come on.

Let go of me, Mark. I'll only ask once.

Oh yeah? You can't hurt me -- not in public at least. //

After a second she slaps him hard enough to make him sway, her expression vicious. He drops his hand from her arm immediately, looking like a scolded schoolboy. She talks to him for a few seconds more, before turning away to return to her dinner partner.

// If you ever lay a hand on me in anger again, that will be the last time you see me. Please don't think I'm joking.

Oh shit... Olivia... I'm sorry. Jesus, I'm drunk.

Drink some water and sober up. You're an embarrassment. Then go and find Leigh and apologise to her as well. She deserves better than this.

I just don't like seeing you with another guy.

What I do when I'm not with you, Mark, is nothing to do with you. You'd do well to remember that. I'm leaving now, and I don't want to see you again this evening. //

I realise I'm shaking. What were they just saying to each other? I've seen Gil angry before, but never threaten a woman. Who is she?

A voice at my elbow makes me jump. "Leigh, darling, what on earth are you doing skulking in the shadows? Come and dance, dear girl."

I force a smile and turn round to greet the charity's treasurer. "Brian, what a pleasure. I'd love to." I let him lead me to the dance floor.

I wait all evening to see if Gil will tell me who the woman is and what their argument was about. He doesn't. Instead he's distant and moody, and we leave as soon as I can without causing offence. In the car I remember how pleased I'd been to see him earlier, and I grit my teeth with the effort of not crying. When he drops me off at my hotel I don't ask him to stay, and he doesn't protest.

~

I miss him, and when he invites me to spend Saturday afternoon with him at his new flat in London, I say yes. He's charming and attentive, clearly sorry for having upset me. But after two hours together he's still not mentioned the ball, or the row with the mystery woman. He's careful to steer the conversation away from any possible opening gambit, and I realise that if I want answers, I'm going to have to ask the direct question. I wait until he's pouring some wine, his back to me.

"Gil? Can we talk about Thursday evening? The charity ball."

He stops pouring, and his shoulders stiffen. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I should never have gotten that drunk. I know you wanted to show me off - I just got nervous." He turns round with the wine and sits down, his expression sincere. If I hadn't seen them together, would I believe there was nothing more to it than that?

"That's not really what I wanted to talk about." I take a deep breath, aware that my hands are trembling as he hands me my glass. "Who was that woman? You said she was a friend, but I saw you fighting..." There, I've asked the question. Now all I have to do is face the answer. All.

Gil doesn't look at me. His face falls and he chews his lip, staring at the floor as if perhaps he wishes a wormhole would open up at his feet and he could jump in. I feel sick. He's going to tell me he's leaving me for her.

Eventually he takes a long swallow of wine. "Her name is Olivia."

"Have you..." Now my voice is trembling too. "Have you slept with her?"

To my amazement he looks as if he's going to cry. After a pause long enough to tell me the answer, he whispers the fatal word. "Yes."

I don't know what to say. I've been dreading this for two days, but I never actually thought he'd admit it so openly. The pain takes my breath away, and I have to put my glass down before I drop it.

Gil drops to his knees at my feet, his expression anguished. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I thought... I thought you'd never find out."

He tries to take my hands in his but I push him away, suddenly angry. "What's that supposed to mean? How long were you planning to carry on sneaking around behind my back? I suppose me being in Somerset made it easy for you?" He doesn't answer. "I trusted you, Gil. I can't believe I've been so stupid! I knew your reputation and still you convinced me to let you into my life and my bed and my heart..."

I take a deep breath. I will not cry in front of him. "And it turns out you've cheated on me after all. You fucking bastard."

He's still kneeling on the floor. "Leigh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please..." I look at him and see his tears. "I'll give her up. If you'll forgive me, I'll give her up."

It's suddenly too much. I run from the room, unable to bear a moment more. In the hallway I open the first door I see and slam it behind me, sinking to the floor in despair.

When I can finally stop crying, I realise that I'm in Gil's office. I sit where I am, my arms wrapped round my knees and my head resting on my arms, looking at the piles of paper and books that cover every available surface. Our conversation swirls around in my head on repeat loop, and I'm too tired and unhappy to stop it.

After a long while, a coherent thought does occur to me. I find an address book in a desk drawer and flick through it slowly, but don't see anything helpful. I'm about to give up when a dog-eared business card slips out of the back of the book. I pick it up, initially thinking it's blank, but I see the information when I turn it over. The card simply says 'Olivia', with a phone number. I scribble the details down on a piece of paper and replace the card carefully, then let myself out of the flat without seeing Gil.

~

I don't tell anyone what's happened, pretending that there's nothing wrong. Gil doesn't call, and I'm grateful for the space. I consider getting in touch with Simon, but although I think he'd be supportive, the thought of confiding in him embarrasses me. I can imagine him gently pointing out what I've already been told - that Gil isn't suited to relationships.

And yet... the last few months with Gil have been some of the best of my life. I'd genuinely thought we might have a future together, and I'd suspected that he felt the same way. I finally conclude that I'm not prepared to let our relationship slip through my fingers without putting up some kind of fight. After three days of trying to get everything straight in my head, I pick up the phone.

It answers on the fourth ring, the voice at the other end polite as she says hello.

"I'm sorry to bother you. Is that Olivia?"

"It is. Can I help you?"

"My name's Leigh - Leigh Davies." I take a deep breath. "You won't know me, but we were both at a charity ball in Bath a few days ago. I'm... I'm dating Mark Gilwood. I saw you having an argument with him there."

I may be shaking, but Olivia sounds perfectly composed. "Ms Davies. I am so sorry about the other evening."

"I wanted to ask... could we meet? For coffee perhaps?"

"Of course, if you're sure? Did you have something in mind? I'm based in London, but I can easily come to Bath if you'd prefer."

"Oh..." Adrenalin floods through me. I'm actually going to go through with this. "I didn't know if you'd say yes. If it's convenient, could we meet tomorrow? Bath is fine."

We arrange a time and place and I hang up, still shaking but somehow feeling better. I don't want to face her tomorrow but I tell myself to treat it as a writing piece. I'm going to collect information, nothing more.

The next afternoon I arrive on time but she's already waiting for me, a pot of tea and two teacups on the table in front of her. I sit down silently, and this close I can see that she's at least ten years older than either Gil or me - in her late 30s, or perhaps even early 40s. Despite the fact she's wearing jeans and t-shirt and very little makeup, everything about her says elegance and poise. She puts me in mind of a US television detective or lawyer, professional and self-contained. I will myself not to be intimidated. I spent a long time this morning deciding what to wear, and I'm glad that I made the effort.

For a moment neither of say anything and the tension stretches uncomfortably while the waiter approaches to pour the tea. Then he's gone.

"Olivia - may I call you Olivia?" She nods. "Thank you for seeing me... Gil - Mark - doesn't know I'm here. I went through his things and found your business card." I'm fiddling with my spoon, and make myself put it down. "I expected you to look different. The other evening you were so... glamorous."

"What did you expect?" Her inflection is neutral.

"I thought you'd be defensive. I had a speech planned when I called, but... you didn't sound surprised when I told you who I was."

Olivia sighs quietly. "Yes, I know who you are. Mark told me about you after he'd first met you. I've heard a lot." A smile flickers briefly across her face and I wonder what she's remembering - and then the significance of what she's said hits me.

She's known about me for more than a year. Gil's comment 'I'll give her up' rings in my ears - this isn't a fling with some tart - this is serious. I feel sick, but I need to know more. I take a deep breath. "If I ask, will you tell me the truth?"

She's watching me carefully, her expression giving nothing away. "Yes, if I can."

"How long have you known him?"

"Four, four and a half years, something like that. He was very young when we met."

I do the maths - he was 23. What is she, some kind of predator? "How did you meet?"

"He was at a party I was co-hosting. I caught his eye and he asked me out. I said no initially, but he was persistent."

I can't help smiling at the thought, remembering how diligently he'd pursued me. "That's polite. I call it stubborn." Reality reasserts itself. "So you've been seeing him all that time?"

"Sporadically, yes. Call it a... business arrangement. I see him maybe eight or ten times a year, on average."

What? Now she's morphed from cougar to call-girl. I don't know how to deal with this. I drink some tea, stalling for time and trying to work out how this woman fits into Gil's life. I thought I knew him, but I've been so deluded.

Her voice breaks the silence. "I really am very sorry. If it helps, I think he loves you."

I see the tears fall before I realise that I'm crying, and Olivia hands me a tissue. It takes me a minute before I can speak. "How can he possibly love me? I should dump him for being a two-timing bastard." I blow my nose and compose myself. "He said he'd give you up, if I asked him to."

I've said it partly to get a reaction, but she doesn't say anything. My anger flares. "Don't you care?"

"Yes, I do. I don't love Mark, but I do care about whether he's happy - and I make him happy. He tells me that you do too." She looks at me. "Do you care?"

"Of course!"

"Then may I give you some advice?"

Is she going to suggest that I give him up gracefully? Tell me I should have had sex with him more often? Point out that I can't compete with her? My head's spinning and I'm beginning to wish I'd never called her. I don't answer and she continues.

"Talk to Mark. Ask him why he's been seeing me all this time. Insist that he tells you. And then think very carefully about how you feel about it, and how you feel about him. How you really feel."

"I could just ask you why."

Her expression is kind. "You could, but that's one question I won't answer. Talk to Mark."

I sit there quietly while her words sink in. Despite everything I do want to know what's going on, and what she's said makes sense. Finally, I look up at her. "I'll try to follow your advice. I don't want to lose Gil - I think. I don't suppose me asking you to stop seeing him would make any difference?"

"I'm sorry, but no."

I've nothing else to say to her, so I collect my bag and jacket and stand up. "Thank you for your time, Olivia." And with that, I leave her.