Cait
Matt was lying on the sofa watching the news when I got back from the train station. I went into the sitting room, leant over to kiss him hello then went and sat on the end of the sofa. He pressed the TV pause button.
‘How’s your day been?’ I asked.
‘Quiet. I got started on the painting in the boys’ old rooms. You? Train crowded?’
‘Packed but on time.’
‘I thought you’d be back earlier to go to your Pilates class. It is on a Friday, isn’t it?’
‘Couldn’t pass up the chance to go to Peter Jones in London. I did a bit of shopping for the spare rooms. New linen.’ That much was true. I’d got the taxi to take me via the store after seeing Tom. I felt guilty not telling Matt but I hadn’t lied, just not told the whole story. I sat for a few moments then asked, ‘Are we OK, Matt?’
Matt immediately looked worried and sat up. ‘What do you mean, are we OK?’
‘I was thinking on the way home—’
Matt groaned. ‘Oh no, this isn’t going to be one of those “we need to talk” sessions, is it?’
‘Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘Groan when I try to talk to you.’
Matt was about to groan again but stopped himself. ‘OK. I’m listening.’
‘OK, well … are you happy?’
‘Happy? What does that even mean?’
‘It means are you happy? Fulfilled?’
‘God, I don’t know, Cait. I don’t ever think about it.’ He was about to turn the TV back on.
‘Are you happy with me?’
‘With you? What kind of question is that?’
‘What I asked. I was thinking, we take each other for granted a little … a lot. We’ve stopped making an effort. I mean, are you still happy being married to me?’
‘Cait, of course I’m happy to be married to you. I’m here, aren’t I? Have been for years. It’s not something I think about. That’s good surely? I think of us as solid. Forever. OK, everything else around us might be changing, but you and I, we’re the base, the foundation.’
‘Yes, but a lot’s changed lately.’
‘Like what? Apart from losing my job.’
‘OK. Top of the list—’
‘List? You have a list for this?’
‘Yes. Finances. How long can we last? We should do the figures properly; we’ve both been putting it off. Will doing Airbnb be enough to keep us going?’
‘Oh not now, Cait. Can’t we talk about it tomorrow?’
‘It’s always tomorrow with you, Matt.’
‘OK, just not now.’
‘Why? What’s more important? Star Trek reruns?’
‘Below the belt.’
‘Debs has suggested we try counselling; she’s even given us some vouchers to use at her centre.’
‘Marriage counselling?’
‘Yes, early anniversary present.’
‘What a cheek. Christ, you’ve been discussing our relationship with Debs?’ He looked horrified.
‘No, not exactly, but she’s known us a long time. I think she’s picked up that things aren’t great with us.’
‘No way, Cait. I’m not talking about private matters in front of a stranger.’
‘So what do you propose I do with the vouchers?’
Matt gave me a look to suggest exactly what I could do with them. ‘We’re fine, Cait. We’ll muddle on. We always have.’
‘I think we should at least consider it.’
‘Not with one of Debs’s people, never. She or he would talk to Debs about it. How would you like that? I know I wouldn’t.’
‘I’m sure they have client confidentiality.’
Matt scoffed. ‘How many times has Debs sat around our table and entertained us with tales from the spa? She’s about as discreet as the Sun newspaper.’
‘Fair point. OK. So how about we find our own therapist?’
‘We live in a small place. People gossip.’
‘OK, out of town then. We could go to Frome, or Bradford on Avon.’
‘Or Glastonbury. That’s only forty minutes away. We could go the whole hippie hog and wear beads and sandals.’
‘Now you’re being unreasonable. I’m trying to help us. If we carry on like we have been, we might lose each other.’
Matt looked shocked. ‘Lose each other? What do you mean by that? Cait, where’s this coming from? I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing.’
‘If I look into finding us a therapist, will you at least consider it?’
Matt sighed wearily. ‘Do I have a choice? I don’t get it. Has something happened today to trigger all this? Did your meeting with Lizzie go badly?’
‘No. No. It was fine – good, in fact. I just got to thinking about us on the train coming home.’
‘Thinking what?’
‘OK, do you remember the last time we had sex, for instance?’
Matt groaned again, then there was an awkward silence. ‘I don’t keep a diary,’ he said finally, ‘so no, I don’t.’
‘Months ago, and then months before that.’ I didn’t add, and it was disappointing, which was probably the reason neither of us had been in a rush to repeat the experience.
There was another painful silence. ‘There’s more to marriage than sex,’ Matt said eventually. ‘Companionship, that’s more important.’
‘Sex is important to me. I miss the intimacy that came afterwards, that feeling of us against the world, curled up in the safe, warm bubble of our bed. Now you come to bed after I’ve gone up and we sleep on opposite sides. I miss the closeness, the cuddling, the easy affection that came in the aftermath and I feel us growing more and more distant.’
Matt looked like a dog that had taken a kicking. He got up and headed for the door. ‘Bad timing Cait,’ he said, ‘it’s late and you’ve only just got home.’
‘It’s always bad timing,’ I called after him as he left the room. ‘I’ll add sex to the list of things we can’t talk about. Sex, money, work.’ I followed him out into the hall. ‘Sometimes it feels as though we don’t even speak the same language, and I don’t know if I can go on unless we make some major adjustments.’
‘But why? We’re OK, or at least we were before my redundancy.’
‘But that’s just it, we weren’t OK. We just plastered over the cuts by keeping busy.’
‘You’re the one who’s always busy.’
‘I’m trying to make the most of life. I don’t know – maybe being in my sixties, having joined the saga louts, I don’t want to waste precious years when things could be better. We have to seize the day and all that.’
‘Noted,’ he said and headed up the stairs.
‘Walking away won’t help,’ I called after him, but this time I didn’t follow. I went and sat on the sofa in the sitting room.
Is it me? I wondered. Is it the fact I’m aware that time may be running out? My mother used to call me a divine discontent when I was younger, always questioning everything; so maybe I am the problem. Or was it having lunch with Tom Lewis? A few hours with a man who made me feel alive again. Or maybe I’m tired and I just need one good night’s sleep.
I heard Matt come back down stairs. He came into the sitting room and sat down with a heavy sigh, like a boy who’d resigned himself to punishment. ‘OK, say what you need to.’
‘Oh god, Matt, just … we’re not getting any younger. Who knows how long we have left? I want to live life to the full.’ I paused and looked out of the window. ‘Lately I have a heightened sense of my own mortality, and not because I’m morbid. Mum going, Eve soon after, Alistair – another of our oldest pals, gone.’
Matt nodded. ‘I know.’ His face softened. ‘It’s been a tough time for you, Cait. Is that what’s been upsetting you? Your mum dying? Eve’s death? I can understand that.’
‘Partly. No doubt, their deaths were a reminder that life can be short. Everyone says it: don’t waste your time, you don’t know how long you’ve got. Like you, at sixty-three, you’ve already outlived your father. I think it’s important to make the most of the next chapter, make the right choices, see what the golden years have to offer.’
‘So what are you proposing?’
‘Maybe the counselling …’ I turned to look at him and noticed that he had his jacket on. ‘Are you going out?’
‘Thought I might take a walk, clear my head.’
‘At this time of night? I thought you’d come back down to talk.’
‘Oh. There’s more?’ He got up and sighed heavily. ‘You’re right, Cait. You’re always right, and maybe we do need to talk more but, thing is, I have nothing to say.’
‘That’s not helpful.’
‘All I can do at the moment. I’m sorry.’ A few minutes later, I heard the front door close.