The Other Half

  “I am a bit fitter,” she acknowledged, embarrassed. “Though I’m surprised you can tell in this old stuff.” She tugged at her fleece.

  “You forget how well I know you.”

  Maggie blushed, flashing back to their intimacy of over a decade ago. All these years later, there was still some sexual chemistry between them. “Tea?” she said brightly, self-conscious about continuing in this vein.

  Alex followed her into the kitchen.

  “Sorry about the mess.” She waved in the direction of the table. There were papers and books everywhere.

  “That’s not like you,” Alex observed. Maggie had been tidy even as a student.

  “True. But I was so into this article I’ve been writing I seemed to forget myself.”

  “Excellent!” said Alex, going over to her laptop and hitting a key to take it off screen saver. “Do you mind if I have a look?”

  “Go ahead.” Maggie stretched up to the top shelf of the dresser for the guest teapot. She had a less precious one for everyday use, but Nathan was at a friend’s so she didn’t need to worry he’d break it.

  Alex was silent while he concentrated, and Maggie felt abashed. This was the first time anyone since Chloë had read anything she’d written in her presence. She felt a bitter jolt at the memory, but she was damned if she was going to focus on Chloë now.

  As Alex continued reading she took the opportunity to watch him, trying to imagine what it would be like if she was seeing him afresh. He was dark haired like Jamie, and tall, but there the similarity ended. He had a less angular face, with big brown eyes and brows so thick they were almost comical. His sense of humor shows in his mouth, she thought. And while he was naturally muscular and in years gone by had been a great rugby player, these days, thanks to his penchant for puddings and cakes, his physique was more teddy bear than Action Man. He might be approaching forty, but he retained a boy-next-door charm that mothers—including Maggie’s own—loved. When I was going out with him I didn’t appreciate him fully, she realized. Instead I was attracted to more obvious good looks, like Jamie’s. These days I can see what those mature women liked in him. Above all he appears generous, kind.

  “Why, this is extremely interesting,” said Alex. “I love the exposé of your MP’s excessive drinking habits. Very witty.”

  Maggie blushed.

  “It seems quite different from what I thought you usually did though. More of a feature.”

  “I’m trying to break into something new.”

  “Oh?”

  Maggie went on to explain, concluding, “I suppose I felt I’d lost something since I was a student—my passion, if you like. You of all people should remember what a stirrer I was.”

  Alex laughed. “How could I forget? You and me, we’d march for any cause that would have us.”

  “I’m not sure that’s entirely fair,” Maggie protested, handing him a generous portion of cake.

  “So.” Alex looked more serious. “How does Jamie feel about all this? I wouldn’t have thought revolutionary zeal was quite his scene.”

  “No, it’s not—at least, not when it’s me trying to challenge accepted views. It’s fine if it’s the people he works with,” with a shudder Maggie pictured Chloë again, “but I don’t think he likes it in his wife.”

  “I see.”

  Maggie could tell he didn’t approve of Jamie’s lack of support, yet she didn’t want to focus on criticizing her husband lest it spoil her mood. She changed the subject. “Have you heard from Georgie? I’ve been meaning to give her a call.”

  “Not for a while,” Alex admitted. “We went out once for dinner as friends, but it was a bit awkward—and it’s not like we dated for that long. With hindsight I’m not sure we’ll ever be close—though don’t get me wrong, I think she’s a great woman.”

  Although Maggie knew she shouldn’t be, she was faintly pleased. A month had passed since she’d found out about Chloë, things with Jamie remained far from resolved, and if she’d had to listen to her ex gush about what great buddies he was with every woman he’d dated, it would have been galling. She liked to think their relationship was special.

  Alex leaned back in his chair; his weight caused it to creak a little alarmingly. “How are things with Jamie? Any better than the night we came for dinner?”

  That had been the last time Maggie had seen Alex. My God, she thought, I’ve been through the wringer since then.

  He continued, “And the baby issue? Has he come around?”

  “Um, not exactly.” Maggie spoke softly, wondered whether to tell Alex about Jamie’s affair. Somehow she couldn’t face it. It would take too long, it was too recent, too raw. And anyway, that was past history. Jamie had stopped seeing Chloë weeks ago. She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go into details, but things haven’t been that great recently.”

  “Oh, I am sorry,” said Alex, with feeling. She knew he meant this. Sympathy could have been his middle name. “Believe me, I understand what it’s like, I’ve been there.” This was true too: Alex had taken the separation from his wife hard. “I don’t know if you’re aware that one of the reasons we split is that Stella didn’t want to have children. Or not mine at any rate.”

  “No! You never said.”

  “It didn’t seem fair, somehow, to discuss it with the world. I suppose I was a bit embarrassed”—he coughed—“and too proud.”

  Too proud. I know how that feels, thought Maggie. “Didn’t you talk about it before you got married?”

  “I know it seems ridiculous now, but no, actually we didn’t. Not at any length. We were years younger then and it didn’t seem such a burning issue. I guess I hoped she’d come around.”

  “I see.”

  “Anyway, Stella’s with someone else now,” said Alex philosophically. “All water under the bridge.”

  “Of course.” Maggie could see there was pain behind his bravado.

  “May I?” Alex reached for the knife to cut himself another slice.

  Maggie nodded, happy to provide food in consolation.

  “For you?”

  She was planning on making something special that night for herself and Jamie. “No thanks, I’m fine.”

  Alex spoke with his mouth full. “Though you do know, of course, that Stella was convinced that I’d never fully gotten over you.” He looked up at her, straight into her eyes. “When we split up, she even suggested I’d be happier if I found somebody more like you.”

  Maggie was astounded. Although she had cause to believe Alex still had some feeling for her—Jamie certainly suspected it and Georgie had stated it directly—she would never have expected him to come out with it so openly.

  Yet Alex seemed unaware of the impact of his words and was hell-bent on making the most of Maggie’s culinary skills. “This is delicious.” He scraped his plate enthusiastically with his fork. “Would a third slice be out of the question?”

  “Yes.” Maggie laughed. “I think Nathan might be a bit miffed.”

  “Oops.” Alex wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Of course! How is the little scallywag?” He looked around. “Where is he?”

  “He’s playing soccer with his friends up on the recreation ground. He does it every week now. They’ve got a five-a-side team, Shere Tigers.”

  “Wow, so he’s old enough to be on a team!”

  “Yes, he was seven last week. We had a party for him.”

  “How time flies!” Now he’d touched upon his own desire to have a family, Maggie could see that Alex was wistful. She shared his sentiments, yet she could hardly say so: she was in the midst of trying to repair things with Jamie. And when they had, she still hoped against hope that they might try for another child.

  39

  Although Maggie had just emerged from a productive meeting with a magazine editor she got on especially well with, she was perturbed. Jean had been in touch the night before, and when Maggie had mentioned she would be in town the next day, Jean had said, “There’s something I want t
o talk about; are you free for lunch?” Maggie detected concern in her friend’s voice and was worried that she was going to face her with knowledge of Jamie’s affair. Maggie was keen to put it behind her.

  Sure enough, once they were sitting in Le Pain Quotidien with a bowl of salad each, Jean began. “Maggie, I may be out of turn—”

  “It’s okay,” said Maggie. “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “Jamie’s been seeing that Chloë girl who used to work with you.”

  “Gosh.” Jean was winded. “How long have you known?”

  “Around a month.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. We’ve talked about it. I’m just beginning to come to terms with it all.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes. It’s been hard, but I’m getting there.”

  “Oh. Well, if you say so.”

  This annoyed Maggie. Yes, I do say so! she protested to herself. “I didn’t take you into my confidence before because I didn’t want to talk about it—and I still don’t. It’s over now, and Jamie’s coming to Relate. He’s canceled a couple of times due to work commitments, but even so.”

  Jean looked at her closely. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re so cool about it. I’d never have put you down as so tolerant, given a situation like this.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” Maggie corrected her. “Though we’re sorting things out, honestly.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have agreed to meet Jean, she thought. It’s going to be difficult not to explain everything to her: she won’t be satisfied until she has the full picture.

  “So you don’t mind that he’s sleeping with someone else?”

  Maggie’s heart missed a beat. “He’s not anymore.”

  “Oh, shit.” Jean furrowed her brow, as if working out whether to carry on, then decided not to, and was silent.

  “What?” Maggie went hot and cold.

  Pushed, Jean continued. “I saw him in Battersea last week. I was on my way home from work, going up the hill from Clapham Junction. He didn’t see me, mind, he was walking ahead of me, but I thought it was strange he’d be around there.”

  “Was he with her?”

  “No, but to be perfectly straight with you, I’d wondered if there was something going on between them—they seemed a touch too intimate in New York, and at the time it struck me as odd that she was there. Then when I saw him walking in the direction of where she lives, I worked out that must be where he was headed. I followed him a bit, just to check.”

  “I see…” Maggie was silent, trying to absorb this information. But perhaps Jean was mistaken. “Which night was this?”

  “Tuesday.”

  Bloody hell—I was at Fran’s, Maggie realized. The moment my back’s turned he’s there like a shot. He was home before her, so it hadn’t occurred to Maggie he might have been somewhere first. She began to tremble. He must have gone straight to Chloë’s, fucked her, and come straight home. What kind of a person was Chloë to put up with being treated like that? It made Maggie despise her more than ever, and loathe Jamie.

  So his promises meant nothing, she thought. And as for what he’s been saying at Relate, it’s a complete sham. No wonder he canceled last week—his conscience wouldn’t let him go. Clearly he doesn’t want to repair things at all. Or maybe—yet another living cliché—he wants to have his cake and eat it. Either way it’s appalling. Weak. Selfish. Cruel.

  “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.” Jean appeared worried. “Believe me, I had to wrestle with myself before I did.”

  “It’s okay…” Maggie was surprised by how calm she felt. “Maybe I knew, deep down.” She gulped, swallowing her intense disappointment. “I’d have found out sooner or later. Still, he promised me it was over.”

  “What are you going to do now, then?” asked Jean.

  “Ask him to leave,” Maggie said simply.

  “Gosh, really?”

  “I don’t mean for good, necessarily, but for a while, yes. I need some space. The thing is, it’s not only that I don’t trust him anymore, it’s that I don’t know if I can love a man who behaves like that.”

  “Bully for you!” said Jean passionately. “I’m proud of you, frankly.” Then she added, more soberly, “And you know, my dear, I’m always here for you, don’t you?”

  Maggie pushed aside her salad; she really didn’t feel like eating. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  Jean reached across and squeezed her hand, and Maggie was grateful. Right then she needed the support of her friends more than ever.

  * * *

  When she got home, Maggie settled Nathan in front of children’s TV and went upstairs.

  Out came both suitcases from the top of the wardrobe again; in went Jamie’s boxers. In went the T-shirts he wore under his crisp cotton shirts in winter. In went these shirts too—no folding. In went the belts he always removed with that “swooshing” sound. In went socks—never mind putting them in goddamn rows now—then shoes. Who cares that they should be on the bottom lest the other clothes get dirty? she fumed. Good thing if they do. On top of it all she threw the navy suit she loved.

  I wonder if he wore it with Chloë? she thought. She sniffed the jacket. Inevitably, she could detect traces of a scent that was not her own.

  Once one case was full she moved on to the next. In this she slung the contents of the bathroom cabinet that belonged to him: shaving foam, razor, aftershave, antiperspirant. On second thought, she left that out. It would be good to make him sweat. Next, down to the closet under the stairs: his precious sports equipment. Not much of it would fit inside the suitcase, but she forced what she could within the straining seams. Finally, she added a handful of his CDs.

  I should never have married a man who likes Genesis, she thought.

  “Mummy, what are you doing?” asked Nathan, catching her in the middle of the hall, case wide open on the floor. Obviously the rumpus had disturbed him. “Are we going on vacation?”

  Maggie went over to him and crouched down to his level. She took his arms, and held his gaze. “No, sweetie, we’re not. I’m afraid Daddy’s going to have to go away for a bit, that’s all.”

  “Again?” He’d missed his father when he’d been in New York. How was he going to find this more prolonged, possibly permanent departure?

  “Yes, my love, again. But don’t worry, this time you’ll be able to see him when he’s gone.”

  Nathan frowned. “How can I see him if he’s not here? Where’s he going?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” said Maggie, fighting tears. She hadn’t worked this one through. “It’s just that Mummy needs some time on her own right now and I think it’s better if Daddy’s not around.”

  “Do you still want me around?” asked Nathan, sounding very small and lost.

  “Oh, of course I do!” exclaimed Maggie, folding him into her arms. “I want you around very much!” She gently pushed back his head a little, so she could see his face, and tidied his fringe. “You must understand this, darling. No matter what Mummy and Daddy think of each other, no matter what happens, none of this is your fault and we both love you very much.”

  * * *

  “What’s all this then?” asked Jamie, standing in the hall examining the two suitcases. Luckily Nathan was in bed. Maggie put her fingers to her lips, not wanting to disturb him, and gestured to her husband to follow her into the sitting room.

  “I want you to leave.”

  “Leave?” Jamie raised his voice at once. “Why?”

  “Because you’re still shagging Chloë, that’s why.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Jean saw you.”

  “Jean! Where?” But she noted he didn’t deny it.

  “In Battersea, last Tuesday. You weren’t with Chloë, but she knows where Chloë lives. They’re virtually neighbors, remember? Or perhaps it hadn’t occurred to you—you’re so wrapped up in your own pathetic little world.”

  “I tried to end it, honestly.”

 
“Tried to, Jamie?”

  “Yes.” Maggie could almost see his mind whirring as he desperately searched for an explanation. “I couldn’t do it at first, but last week, that’s why I went to see her.”

  “What happened to finishing it a month ago? Have you been seeing her all this time?”

  “No—I did finish it, then, like you said, but she was so upset and it was hard, with working together…” His voice trailed off, his cheeks flushed puce with shame.

  “So you went to her apartment and broke up with her on Tuesday, right?”

  Jamie nodded, and looked down.

  “Pull the other one. If you wanted to end it, you’d hardly have gone to her place. You’d have done it in town, over lunch. Or maybe you’d even have sent her an e-mail—something heartfelt like that.”

  Jamie blushed some more. “I do care about her, Maggie.”

  Maggie jumped at the word. “Do, or did?”

  “Did, do, I don’t know…”

  “So you think that’s what I want to hear? That you care about her? Pah! No, Jean’s right—you’re still seeing her.”

  “Bloody Jean!”

  “Don’t you dare take this out on her! You’ve no one to blame for this but yourself. And do me a favor—don’t insult my intelligence. Admit it, you bottled it.”

  Silence. She knew she had him cornered. Finally he looked up. “I will finish it, Maggie, I will, I promise. Tomorrow—”

  Maggie shook her head. “Too late. I told you there are no half-measures as far as this is concerned. I want you to leave.”

  “But you can’t kick me out! I’ve nowhere to go!”

  “Try Chloë’s,” said Maggie drily.

  “I wouldn’t go there.”

  “Why not? I thought you liked it there.”

  “I just can’t.” Jamie shrugged. “It wouldn’t seem right.”

  “Right? That’s rich! Who are you to say what’s right? I don’t think you even know what’s right anymore. Well, you can’t stay here. I can’t let this go—not a second time.”

  “What about Nathan?”

  “I’ve told him you’re going away for a bit.”

  Jamie looked shell-shocked, as if he still couldn’t quite absorb it. “Do you want me to leave now?”