Part 25 (1/2)

An awkward silence descends.

*How are the girls?' Elliott asks Gabby eventually.

*Fine. They're with friends this evening. Hoping to see you sometime this weekend, I think. Oh, and some of the clothes from my house are still at yours,' she adds. *Maybe you could bring them back?'

*Do you know what they are?'

*Some leggings. Long-sleeved Ts.h.i.+rts. And socks. We seem to have run out of socks.'

*I'll look,' he replies, standing at their table a few moments longer but finding nothing else to say. *Well, I'd better get going.' He looks at Julian again. *Nice to meet you.'

*Enjoy your evening,' Gabby says, and as she watches him walk towards Trish she is reminded so much of an unhappy little boy. She turns back to Julian, an apology already on her lips.

*Well,' he says, settling back in his chair. *That wasn't awkward.'

Chapter Thirty-Six.

Usually Elliott is a sound sleeper. Gabby used to tease him because he could sleep anywhere, in any position, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

Lately, though, he has found himself waking up in the early hours of the morning, anxious, with no idea why. He has tried lying in bed counting sheep, deep breathing, meditating on ocean scenes, but nothing is able to send him back to sleep.

He turns his head and raises himself slightly, better able to see the digital clock on Trish's nightstand. She is fast asleep, her cream silk nightgown bunched up, almost to her waist. He looks at her perfectly rounded naked bottom, with no desire to touch her. He is admiring, but dispa.s.sionate; it is as if he is marvelling at the cool white perfection of a marble statue by Michelangelo.

It is 4.33 a.m. He knows he won't go back to sleep now. Occasionally, if he wakes up at two, or even, sometimes, three, he can get back to sleep, but after four he knows it's all over; there's little point even trying.

He climbs out of bed, not worrying about making a noise because Trish is dead to the world until morning. In his own house, he would lie back in his recliner and flick through the channels until he found something that caught his interest; he might catch up on his reading, or find himself playing one of the kids' mindless computer games.

Here, in Trish's house, he is a little stuck. He hovers in the doorway of the living room, negatively antic.i.p.ating the feel of the hard, modern sofa. It looks beautiful, but it is not a sofa on which to lie, cus.h.i.+oned by down pillows, feet up on a large wide armrest as you read a book, or watch TV.

Wait, there is no TV in here.

The sofas in the family room are not much of an improvement, for this is not a room where anyone ever lounges, or relaxes. But there is a television; for want of something better Elliott makes himself as comfortable as he is able to and starts to flick.

He isn't looking for anything in particular. His thoughts are far away from anything on the screen, and there is little, at this point, that can bring them back.

Ever since he saw Gabby with that English man, he has felt out of sorts; wrong; ill at ease. She left him having already slept with, having been impregnated by, another man. They are getting divorced, even though he had to cancel the initial appointment with the lawyer because something came up at work a he doesn't remember what a and he is supposed to have found happiness with Trish. What right does he have to feel uncomfortable seeing his wife with another man?

He gazes blindly at the television screen and pictures Gabby with that man. Elliott was facing their table, looking directly at the pair of them, and he had to focus hard so as not to stare all evening. Even then, his eyes kept involuntarily landing on them. It wasn't so much that she was with another man a they are separated, after all, and she has the right to be with anyone a it was that she looked so happy; happier than she has looked in months.

And Julian isn't just any other man. He is English. He sounds just like her. He has that rugged English, Bear Grylls-ish quality. If you threw him in the middle of a jungle, by the end of the first day he would have built a two-storey hut out of banana leaves and twigs, caught a few fish out of the river with a stick he'd whittled into a spear, and would have a wild boar merrily roasting over a fire. He looks, Elliott realizes with shock, exactly like the sort of man Gabby should be with. They looked good together.

Better than good. Right.

*Hey,' he hears from behind him, turning in surprise to see a sleepy Trish padding into the room, running her fingers through her hair. She sits next to him on the sofa and kisses his cheek. *What's up? Bad night's sleep?'

Elliott shrugs. *You know how it is. My body's exhausted but my mind's racing.'

*Which is stress,' she says. *What are you stressed about?'

*Who knows? Everything. Life.' His voice is light, but his expression is not.

*And Gabby,' Trish says after a pause. *Being with another man.'

*What?' He feigns innocence, his eyes open wide. *That? Oh no. That's no big deal.'

*Elliott.' Trish gives an ironic laugh, leaning back from him, as if her body is getting ready for the distancing that she knows is about to come. *I'm not stupid. I was there with you all night. You couldn't take your eyes off the two of them, and you were frowning every time you looked at them. Just like you are now.'

Elliott quickly corrects his features. *It was just a shock,' he says. *I didn't know she was dating anyone.'

*It was more than that,' Trish says sadly. *It was that she was dating someone appropriate. You know what I saw tonight?' Her voice is quiet. *I saw that you still love her.'

*Of course I still love her!' Elliott says. *I was married to her for twenty years! We have two children together. You don't just stop loving someone overnight.'

*I did,' she says.

*That's different.'

*Not much. Here's the thing. You may still love her, but what I saw tonight was that you are in love with her. I saw love, and loss, and all the things you're going to admit to if I push you, but I saw something else that you may not even realize. I saw yearning. You didn't want Gabby sitting there with some other man, and you didn't want to be sitting there with me. You wanted to be with her.'

Elliott says nothing, just looks at his hands.

*I have no idea what the future holds,' Trish says. *I don't know if this thing she has is serious, or how she feels about you, but the one thing I'm absolutely sure about is that you're still in love with her. Which means you're not ready for a relations.h.i.+p with me, or anyone else.'

Still, there is nothing for Elliott to say.

*I think you're wonderful,' she says, blinking back the tears that are threatening to spring. *I wish things were different. Who knows, maybe in a year's time you and I will circle back to each other again, when you're more ready, but I think we need to call it a day.'

She reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it gently as Elliott just nods, ignoring the tears in his own eyes as they begin to slowly trickle down his cheeks.

Chapter Thirty-Seven.

*Natasha!' Elliott stumbles on the doorstep. *How lovely to see you.' He has always got on very well with his soon-to-be-ex-mother-in-law, and has no idea how he should greet her.

*Elliott!' With her trademark warmth, she flings her arms round him, enveloping him in gauzy scarves and a squeezing hug. Stepping back she holds him at arm's length and examines him. *You look incredibly dapper and handsome. I hate to say it, but separation suits you.'

Elliott laughs. *Only you could say that and not have me think you were crazy.'

*Some might say I am crazy,' she replies, and laughs too. *Which is why I can get away with it. It is true, though. I haven't seen you look so good in years. And yet ...' She peers at him. *You don't look terribly happy. You look tired.'

*I didn't sleep last night. No idea what happened. Recently I've started waking up in the early hours of the morning, and once I'm up, that's it. No more sleep.'

*Sounds like you're going through the menopause,' Natasha says. *Maybe you should go and see a doctor.'