The Price of Temptation

The Cherry View Wellness Centre was located in a converted luxury house on an avenue of converted luxury houses which now acted as premises for lawyers' offices, accountancy firms and marketing bureaus, plus the occasional family home for rich people. The property was owned by the widow of a wealthy banker who discovered spirituality in her late middle age, and who was also not blind to the tax benefits of funding a charitable foundation. The house itself was white with huge bay windows on the ground floor, narrow windows on the upper floor and small, square windows peeking out from the gables set into the charcoal-black slate roof. Like all the houses in that road, the building was free-standing with enough space to park cars on both sides. There was plenty of greenery around the black tarmac, with a lawn at the front, boxwood and azalea shrubs along the perimeter walls and one old cherry tree which stood like a sentinel by the smooth tarmac driveway.

Ursula Graham arrived at ten-to-nine and parked her green Clio in the spaces reserved for staff on the left side of the building. She was a life coach and counsellor, one of twenty freelance wellness practitioners—almost all female—who paid Cherry View a hefty percentage of their earnings in exchange for use of the facilities and inclusion on the website. Her background was in corporate law and she still did occasional work for her former boss to supplement her income, but after fifteen years in that world, she looked forward to the day when she could say 'no' to him for good.

Cherry View employed three receptionists and this morning it was Beryl at the desk in the foyer next to the staircase. Beryl was a sturdy woman with white hair who ran the desk with the efficiency of a sergeant major. Ursula offered her a cheery hello, but Beryl seemed occupied going through files and didn't respond. Ursula coughed and repeated her greeting. Beryl stopped, looked at her and stared.

'Ursula, darling, are you remembering to eat?' she said.

Ursula felt her neck flush red.

'I eat fine, thank you,' she said. 'I'm just naturally thin.'

'Well ... lucky you,' said Beryl and she went back to her files.

Ursula clenched her teeth and went up the staircase. She reminded herself that spiritual wellness meant accepting people as they were and not allowing oneself to be triggered by one's own emotional reactions. Yes, she had been skinny as a child and was still thin in her thirties. It was why she tended to wear long skirts, heeled boots and well-cut jackets over a flowing blouse or thick polo-neck. She also wore her hair long, clipped back in a way to look soft and full, although it didn't hide her sharp cheekbones nor the thin point of her nose. But as she climbed the stairs, Ursula told herself she could still look attractive and that her thinness was not the reason she had been alone for over two years.

Ursula reached her usual consulting room and entered. It was her favourite room on that floor, beautiful and light in the summer with a great view of the trees in the back garden. Even now in autumn, it still had a relaxing energy. Ursula hung her coat on an old-fashioned hatstand in the corner and prepared the room for her first appointment. This consisted of moving an extra chair into place. Then she took off her boots and socks and sat cross-legged on the floor for her fifteen-minute morning meditation.

Ursula's first client was Sally Price, thirty-two, married with two children and part-time account manager at a marketing firm. She had come to Ursula suffering from stress and, after three sessions, its cause seemed pretty clear: Sally's husband wasn't pulling his weight at home. It was a situation so common, Ursula could have told Sally's story for her: The woman puts her career on hold while she has children and takes care of them through their first two years. The man promises that when she goes back to work, he will step up and take equal responsibility for the housework and parenting, but when the woman actually does go back to work—surprise, surprise—the man reneges on his promise. Sally was now heading for a burn-out because she was essentially working two jobs while her husband just did the one.

Ursula had listened to this story with indignation and finally asked Sally if her husband would be open to joining them for a session. Sally was delighted with the idea, saying he deserved a good telling off. Ursula reminded her client that, as a counsellor, she was not allowed to take sides. 'But I know all the excuses,' she said. 'And if your husband can be made to see the impact of his behaviour, I'm sure we can reach a suitable compromise.'

The intercom buzzed and Beryl's voice announced the presence of clients at the reception desk. Ursula glanced at the clock. Sally had been late for every one of her appointments, but now she was five minutes early. That was encouraging.

'Shall I send them up?' came Beryl's tinny voice through the speaker.

'No, I'll come down,' said Ursula.

She put on her socks and boots, gave her appearance a quick check, then headed out to the staircase. As she went down the stairs and turned the corner of the landing, she made a mental note to pay attention to her clients' body language when she saw them. The couple were at the reception desk, exchanging a few words with Beryl.

Sally Price was an attractive woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a taste for stylish outfits to show off her admittedly wonderful figure. She was the kind of women who could have her pick of the men and—much as Ursula hated seeing things in those terms—there were moments when she wondered why Sally's husband wasn't bending over backwards to please her.

But that was before she saw him.

Ursula looked at the man by the reception desk and her stomach lurched, as though she'd dropped through a trapdoor. 'Oh, my God! He's gorgeous!' screamed an internal voice. The man was tall, broad-shouldered and casually well-dressed, leaning on the desk like it belonged to him. Ursula remembered Sally mentioning an Italian mother and she saw it now, in his dark eyes and lashes, his black wavy hair and strong jawline. A group of women were coming in for a yoga lesson and they were all doing double-takes, as though struggling to believe that such miracles of manhood actually walked the earth.

Ursula mentally shook herself, irritated. She reminded herself that women married to good-looking men were often afraid of asserting their rights, just in case he left them for more amenable women. As she walked across the floor to them, Sally smiled in relief and patted her husband's arm to get his attention. The man turned, his gaze rested on Ursula and her heartrate accelerated. She forced herself to maintain eye contact, gave him a formal smile and held out her hand.

'Good morning,' she said, relieved to hear clipped professionalism in her tone. 'I'm Ursula, Sally's coach.'

'Jeff Price,' said the man, shaking her hand.

'Price?' said Ursula. 'So you took your wife's name?'

Jeff was taken aback. Sally laughed.

'No,' he said, recovering. 'Sally took mine. But, for the record, I would have been fine if—'

'I was joking,' said Ursula.

'Oh.'

'Shall we go upstairs?'

Sally said: 'Sure!'

Ursula led them up the staircase to her consulting room, trying to make relaxed small talk. Inside, she was furious with herself. First, with framing as a joke an issue she actually felt strongly about. But, more importantly, she was letting Sally down. The whole point of this meeting was to get Jeff to see that he was not honouring his responsibilities and putting him on the defensive was a bad first move. Jesus, why did women always have to dance around the sensitive egos of men?

Ursula showed the couple into the consulting room and they took their seats while Ursula fetched a flask of water and three glasses, along with her notebook and pen. She poured water for her guests, then sat back in a chair strategically placed to face the two of them from equal distances. Ursula began by thanking Jeff for his presence at the session, which she said demonstrated that he was taking Sally's concerns seriously. However, she emphasized that her role was to act as an impartial facilitator; she would not be taking sides.

Jeff sat easily in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, and listened to Ursula with an expression of polite scepticism. His gaze never left her and Ursula found herself referring to the blank notebook on her lap, because she knew if she held eye contact for too long, her face would go red. It was a relief when she could finally turn to her client.

'Sally, maybe we can start with you?' she said. 'In your own words, why don't you tell Jeff the cause of your stress?'

Sally launched into a speech: Jeff had promised to share the responsibility for chores and parenting, and he had ended up leaving everything to her. She wanted to go from part-time to full-time work, but she couldn't because she was unable to trust him to do his share. Jeff listened patiently, with the expression of a man who had heard this a hundred times before. When Sally finished, Ursula turned to him.

'So, Jeff,' said Ursula. 'How would you like to respond?'

'Well, the first thing I would say,' said Jeff, 'is that I didn't make a promise in the way that Sally described.'

'That's not true!' said Sally.

'Um, Sally...?' said Ursula.

Sally pressed her lips together and looked down. Ursula's gaze went back to Jeff.

'You were saying that you didn't make any promises to Sally?'

'No...' said Jeff. 'I'm saying that it wasn't a case of me making a promise to her. The way I see it, we both made promises to each other.'

'What do you mean exactly?'

'We both promised to share equal responsibility for household chores and parenting.'

'Just to be clear...' said Ursula. 'Are you implying that Sally is the one breaking a promise?'

'I'm not implying it,' said Jeff. 'I'm saying it.'

Sally let out a dry laugh and looked away, shaking her head. Ursula looked at the man in the chair, her gaze burning into his eyes. She was no longer afraid she might blush. She was too angry for that.

'Could you explain that to me, please?' she said icily.

'Sure,' said Jeff. 'Sally's idea of "sharing equal responsibility" means she decides what needs to be done and I do half. But my idea is that equal responsibility means that I should get an equal say in what household chores are even necessary.'

'Can you give me an example?' said Ursula.

'Sure.' Jeff uncrossed his legs and leaned forwards. 'We live in a three-bedroom house which has carpet everywhere except the bathroom and kitchen. Obviously, it needs to be regularly hoovered, but the question is: How often? Sally thinks it should be hoovered twice a week. I think once every two weeks is enough.'

'You could compromise and do it once a week,' said Ursula.

'I suggested that,' said Jeff. 'Sally refused to discuss it.'

Ursula looked at Sally.

'We have children!' said Sally. 'They have to live in a clean environment!'

Jeff said, 'You were hoovering twice a week before the kids were born.'

'Well, I like things to be clean! What's wrong with that?'

'It's not a question of "wrong",' said Jeff. 'It's a question of priorities. The more time we spend cleaning, the less time we have to relax. Which takes priority?'

'Listen,' said Ursula. 'I think we can agree that a clean environment and time to relax are both important. Can we agree on that?'

Sally and Jeff exchanged a glance, then both nodded.

'So, basically it's a question of finding the right balance,' said Ursula.

'Is that another way of saying I have to compromise?' said Sally glumly.

Ursula considered.

'Sally, is Jeff right in saying that both of you made an agreement to share household responsibilities equally?'

Sally sighed and gave a nod.

'Well, in that case, I have to say that I see his point,' said Ursula. 'I mean, if you are going to share responsibilities, you have to agree on what those responsibilities are in the first place.'

'But what if you have different standards?'

'Then you have to negotiate; find some common ground. You're both clearly intelligent people. I don't think it's beyond you to come up with an agreement which honours both sides. But Sally ... if you refuse to negotiate and Jeff simply complies with your demands, then you stop being equal partners and you become his boss. I see that dynamic in many relationships and none of them are happy. Do you know what I mean?'

Sally stared at the floor. Eventually, she gave a nod. Jeff reached over and she took his hand, lifting it up to her lips for a brief kiss. Ursula felt a tightness at the base of her throat and looked down at her notebook.

***************************

The remaining time was spent discussing standards, with Sally and Jeff taking it in turns to articulate what was important to them. When the hour was up, Ursula thanked them both and they saw themselves out. When she was sure they were downstairs, Ursula went to the private upstairs bathroom, locked herself in and splashed water on her face and neck. She was glad that the joint session was a one-off.

Ursula returned to her consulting room and prepared herself for the next client. During the course of the day, Ursula focused on her work and by five o'clock her attraction to a client's "hot husband" was beginning to recede into the background of her mind. On her way out, she said goodnight to Sharon, who had taken over from Beryl, and went to her car.

Ursula had just settled herself behind the steering wheel, when her smartphone rang. She saw a number she didn't recognise and answered.

'Ursula Graham,' she said.

'Hi, Ursula,' said a man's voice. 'It's Jeff Price. We saw each other this morning.'

'Jeff...' said Ursula, hoping she sounded like a woman whose heart wasn't pounding like a mad thing. 'How did you get my number?'

'You have a flyer on the bulletin board,' said Jeff. 'Your mobile number was on it, so I assumed it was a business number.'

'Yes, I'm sorry,' said Ursula, feeling stupid. 'I didn't mean to imply...' She stopped and took a breath.

'Jeff, how can I help you?'

'I wanted to tell you how much I appreciated the discussion this morning,' he said. 'And to apologise.'

'Apologise for what?'

'I didn't go in with an open mind. You see, Sally and I have been to counselling before and I usually find myself at the business end of a gender equality lecture disguised as impartial advice. I thought you would be more of the same.'

'Listen, Jeff ... after my crack about your surname, I don't blame you.'

'Well, one could argue that a man should be able to take a joke.'

'True,' said Ursula. 'But one could also argue that a professional counsellor should make her clients feel welcome, not defensive.'

Jeff laughed softly. Ursula realised she was enjoying the conversation.

'Jeff, I shouldn't really be talking to you,' she said. 'Sally is my client and—'

'Ursula, I understand.'

She heard a sigh on the phone. Then Jeff said:

'It's a shame. I have a strong feeling that we have a lot to say to each other. It's been such a long time since I had a real conversation with a woman. But I do understand your position.'

Ursula was stunned. Her mouth had gone dry and she was at a loss to know how to respond. She knew how she wanted to respond, but ... she couldn't.

She just couldn't.

'Anyway, thanks again,' said Jeff. 'And have a good evening.'

'You too...' said Ursula.

The call ended. Ursula sat in the car, heart still racing, wondering what on earth had just happened.

***************************

Two evenings later, Ursula found out. Jeff had been in her thoughts so consistently since the phone call, she was considering a session with her coaching mentor, Meredith. The problem was that Ursula already knew what Meredith would say: That her attraction to a client's husband was rooted in her own desire for an intimate partner. However much Ursula liked her work and independence, she found it painful to be alone every evening -- although not as painful as the dating process. It was so rare to meet a man she both fancied and respected, and Jeff Price had scored a double whammy. Not only was he Sex-On-Legs, but he had things to say which she found worth listening to. In Ursula's experience, men either bristled at her Feminism or were eager to prove their 'woke' credentials, which was somehow worse. Jeff was neither. Ursula certainly felt she could have a real conversation with him, and the fact that he felt it too—so strongly he had called to tell her—was just heart-breaking.

On the second evening, Ursula was distracting herself with a movie on Netflix, accompanied by a glass of wine, when her phone rang. Despite having a terrible memory for phone numbers, she instantly recognised it. A million thoughts exploded in her head like fireworks, some screeching for her to let it ring, others imploring her to pick it up before it stopped. Forcing herself to stay calm, Ursula put down the wine glass, paused the film and swiped the answer button on the screen. Without saying a word, she lifted the phone to her ear and waited.

'Ursula?' said the man's voice.

She didn't know what it was about the way Jeff said that one word, but somehow she knew exactly why he'd called and what he wanted, and every cell in her body seemed to react. She was both horrified and overjoyed. 'End the call!' screamed an inner voice. 'End it now!' In a minute, thought Ursula. I just want to see what he does. She heard an outbreath on the line, like someone leaning back in a chair or a couch. Or on a bed. Ursula bent over, clutching her stomach with one hand, pressing the phone to her ear with the other. Still she let the silence hang, praying for him to say something crass or corny, anything to break the spell.

'I know I shouldn't be calling,' said Jeff. 'But I haven't been able to stop thinking about you.'

Ursula wanted to cry. Until this moment, she'd had no idea how much she longed to hear a man say those words. And not just any man -- a man she wanted. It was like a physical pain wracking her whole body. She forced herself to keep quiet.

'I just had a rather disturbing thought,' said the voice on the phone. 'You're sitting with your sister, having a chat in the living room. You go into the kitchen to make you both a cup of tea, leaving your phone behind. The phone rings, your sister picks it up...'

'I don't have a sister,' said Ursula.

'Okay.'

'Jeff, you can't do this.'

'I know.'

'Your wife is my client.'

'I know.'

'Then why are you doing it?'

'Because I want to tell you how I feel.'

'You mean, you want sex.'

'That's part of it, yes.'

'Jeff, that's can't happen!'

'You mean, it shouldn't happen. Not quite the same thing.'

Ursula sat up, bare feet planted on the floor, glaring at the frozen movie character on her monitor screen as though he had personally offended her.

'Jeff, how the hell do I respond to that?' she said. 'What do you expect me to say?'

'I'm expecting you to say "no" and put the phone down on me,' said Jeff. 'And to be honest, part of me is hoping you'll do it. Then I'm off the hook and life can go on as before.'

'What do you mean "off the hook"?'

'Ursula,' said Jeff. 'Have you ever met someone and knew—you just knew—that there is something between you? A connection, a feeling, an idea ... some-thing? That a deep inner voice telling you that this person is important, but it doesn't tell you why. To find out why, you have to ... I don't know ... do something.

'Well, I have that feeling about you. The way Sally described you, Ursula, I was expecting some uptight, feminist battle-axe to show up, and then down the stairs walks this commanding, beautiful woman. I had to keep from staring at you. And then, during the meeting, you completely blew me away! I saw how angry you were when I said that Sally had broken her promise. I saw it in your eyes and heard it in your voice. And yet, you stepped over your anger and listened to me. You actually listened to me, despite the fact that I had clearly offended you. Christ, Ursula! Have you any idea what it means for a man to have a woman he respects listen to him? And, right now, I just want to hold you tight in my arms and say thank you, thank you, thank you...'