Cait
The next day, I was in a taxi on my way to meet Tom in London. He’d replied late last night, delighted that I’d decided to go and see him. I was feeling very apprehensive as the cab drove through the streets towards Barnes, partly because of the fact that I’d got no sleep due to the butterflies in my stomach, and partly because I’d got up early to buff, wax and oil every inch of me, just in case … I felt like a teenager about to have sex for the first time. How would it be? Although there was a time I knew every inch of Tom’s body and how he liked to be touched, that was a long time ago. Matt was the only man I’d had sex with in over thirty years and we’d given up on each other. I was out of practice. Would Tom still find me attractive when he saw me naked? Would I remember what went where? Of course I would. Breathe, Cait, relax. I reminded myself that it wasn’t just about sex, though I had no doubt that was on the agenda today, it was about chemistry and connection and Tom and I had that and more. All the same, I felt tense, caught between anticipation of what could be wonderful and anxiety about taking the plunge into something I might not be able to return from.
‘I’ve brought us a lunch from the deli,’ Tom said when he opened the door and ushered me through to a beautiful sitting room with high ceilings and a tall bay window overlooking a courtyard garden full of pots of red geraniums.
‘Very elegant,’ I said as I looked around at the tasteful pale grey and ivory furnishings in the room.
‘It suits my purpose for now.’
‘Where’s your friend?’
‘Out of town visiting his kids,’ he said as he went over to an ice bucket where there was a bottle of champagne on ice. He popped the cork and poured two glasses. ‘To celebrate you being here.’
I drank the glass in seconds to quell my nerves and immediately felt tipsy. Tom set out the food – cheeses, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes and olives – but when he’d filled our plates and we’d sat down, neither of us ate much. The air felt charged with sexual tension. We both knew why I was there.
‘I got your questionnaire,’ Tom said as he topped up my glass. ‘Where did you find that?’
‘Online,’ I lied. ‘I thought it would give us a good opportunity to get to know each other better.’
Tom smiled. ‘I can think of more pleasurable ways,’ he said, but he got up from the table and went to fetch his laptop while I gulped down another slug of champagne at the insinuation.
Tom sat back at the table and began to read from the screen of his computer. ‘OK. Let’s go. What’s your favourite colour? The colour of your eyes.’ I groaned. ‘I know. Sorry. Corny. Next. What’s your favourite flower? You. You are my favourite English rose.’
‘You’re on a roll of cheesiness here,’ I said, but I was glad for the questionnaire because it broke the ice and put us more at ease with each other.
‘Favourite restaurant?’ Tom continued. ‘So many. A fish place on the shores of Lake Como. A beach café in Thailand at sunset. I’m trying to make this as romantic as possible. Favourite food? Again too many. Where would you like to go on holiday? I would like to take you to my favourite place in Bali. A quiet and heavenly hideaway with views that will blow your mind. We had a few holidays when we were together, remember?’
I did. We’d hitch-hiked around the lakes once and, another time, we’d gone to the south of France with a bunch of Tom’s friends. I remembered I’d wanted to go to Greece, just the two of us. Another time we’d gone to stay in Rye, with his friends again. I’d wanted to go to a festival on the Isle of Wight with Eve but, back in those days, Tom led, and I followed without question.
‘What annoys me?’ Tom continued. ‘Fascists. Politicians. Narrow-mindedness. Queues! Don’t get me started. What makes me happy? So many things. Being with the people I love. Having a project. Watching a sunset/sunrise with someone I love. Happiness is a state of mind though, isn’t it? Can it be manufactured? Hearing from you makes me happy. Ah, now, this a good one. How do I like to be kissed? Tenderly, passionately, teasingly, erotically, softly, deeply. And where do you like to be kissed? Neck. All over, and again some. Are you listening, Cait? You look far away?’
‘Just remembering the past,’ I said. As I sat there with Tom, so many memories were flooding back, memories I’d conveniently forgotten until now. We’d always eaten where he felt like eating, gone to the exhibitions he’d elected to see, spent time with his friends; always done what he’d wanted to do. He had been Mr Cool, and whatever or whoever he deemed worthy of attention had immediately become cool too. In fact, he had been utterly selfish, his wants and needs always first, but I’d never let myself acknowledge that because, along with everything else that he’d desired, he’d selected me and that had given me credibility.
‘What might make me happier? If you shared my life, Cait. Possibilities make me happy. Anticipation.’ He reached out and took my hand and stroked my thumb as he continued reading the questions. ‘What turns you on sexually?’ He looked straight at me. ‘I challenge you to find out.’
I laughed, probably a tad hysterically. I was beginning to doubt why I’d come. Had he changed from the selfish charmer who always got his way? Does a leopard ever change its spots? He’d appeared back in my life and made his proposal with no thought for the disruption he’d cause, the hurt he’d cause to Matt. My husband was just an obstacle in his way to be brushed aside as he took what he wanted. It also occurred to me that he’d answered the questions, but not appeared in the slightest bit interested in what my replies might have been, assuming that either he already knew the answers or that my replies were insignificant, just as they had been so long ago. Tom clicked his fingers, people jumped around him. Was I prepared to do that for the rest of my life, all for a few sessions of steamy sex?
‘Not hungry?’ Tom asked as he looked at my plate of barely touched food.
‘Not really.’ I stood and began to help clear, but he took the dishes and placed them back on the table. He pulled me to him so that I could feel his body against me. ‘So why are you here, Cait Langham?’ He looked deep into my eyes; as I felt the sweet stab of desire, any doubts receded. Tom Lewis was and is addictive and irresistible stuff, I thought as he led me over to the sofa.
We sat, then he gently pushed me back and moved to lie alongside me. I felt consumed with longing for him. I wanted him as much as he wanted me. I wanted to touch him, have him caress me, possess me, put his mouth on mine and to lose myself in him. He began to stroke my neck, shoulders, the curve of my hips, my thighs, all the time staring into my eyes. It felt deliciously erotic and oh so familiar; I was back, twenty years old, vulnerable, helpless to refuse him. I put my hand up and traced his cheek, his jaw line and, in doing so, caught sight of my wedding ring. I suddenly froze. I wasn’t that twenty year old any more, free, single: I was married to Matt.
‘What is it?’ Tom asked as I abruptly sat up.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this. We have to stop before we go further.’
Tom groaned in frustration. ‘Nooooo. Cait, then why have you come?’
‘I …’ I couldn’t explain. ‘I don’t know.’
Tom sat up next to me. ‘I can’t go on like this. Either we see this through or we don’t.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I … I need to think.’ We were so close, hands almost touching, thigh next to thigh. It would be so easy to lie back and lose myself in what we’d started, but to continue would come at a price and I was beginning to feel that it wasn’t one I was prepared to pay. Tom said he had feelings for me, but how long would they last? There would never be any certainty with him. He’d texted, then appeared in Bath and just assumed I would meet him – and I had. Then there was the call from Bristol: he’d summoned me, I had gone. I could suddenly envisage a life with him. He’d play the tune, I would dance, but is that what I really wanted? And would he tire of me if a better offer came along? He’d always craved experience and adventure and, as he’d said, us being together could be the mother of adventures, but what if another quest or challenge came along, beckoned, promised more than I could give? I had to leave. I had too much to lose if I stayed.
Tom reached over, took my hand and looked at me, trying to gauge what was happening.
‘I’m so sorry, Tom.’ The white doves had gone, the violins were silent, there were no more rose petals falling from the sky. It was time to say goodbye.
‘You’re going to tell me that you’re staying with Matt, aren’t you?’
‘I am.’
‘So why come? Put me through this?’
‘I wasn’t sure. It hasn’t been easy for me either.’
Tom sighed heavily. ‘Is there nothing I can say that will persuade you?’
‘There isn’t. I’ve been flattered by the offer you made me, truly, but it was never going to happen. I realize that now.’
‘Will you tell Matt about me or have you already?’
‘When the time is right, I might tell him I met up with an old friend, and we could stay in touch maybe.’
‘We could,’ he said.
‘Liar.’ I got up to go. ‘I wish you well, Tom, I really do, and I hope you find a companion who you can go sailing into a merry old age with, preferably one who’s not married.’
He smiled, but the look in his eyes was sad.
When he called me a cab, he didn’t come down to the street to see me off, just gave me one last hug at his door. ‘If you ever change your mind, you know where I am,’ he said.
‘I do,’ I said.
When I boarded the train at Paddington and found a seat, I felt an enormous sense of relief and closure. In my life, my relationship history, Tom had always been the one who got away, but this time, it was me who’d left. I had no regrets.