Chapter 24
I managed to avoid Angus pretty successfully last night, and I’m congratulating myself on that fact as I get myself ready for my morning walk.
To be fair, I don’t think anyone was really in the mood for talking.
Gina spent most of the evening staring flintily at either Angus or me and I don’t think I’m exaggerating if I say that we’d both be feeling pretty poorly right now if looks really could kill.
Suzie and Grace were also silent, presumably still coming to terms with the fact that their leader cast them aside so casually.
Tess was wisely keeping her own counsel, and so the only person making any attempt at conversation was Lynette who, among her other failings, seems to be completely incapable of reading the room.
Even Cara and Hugh were muted. I felt for Cara, actually, as she’d pulled out all the stops with some absolutely fabulous Moules Marinières that Gina took one look at and flatly refused to eat, followed by a Boeuf Bourguignon that Hugh informed us included the vital steps of adding brandy, igniting it and then extinguishing the flames with a good bottle of red wine.
His attempt to lighten the mood fell on deaf ears, however, and we all headed our separate ways as soon as the meal was over.
Angus did make a vague attempt to corral me, but I think he read my expression and wisely decided to leave it.
It’s another beautiful morning and I’m looking forward to some solo time as I close the front door carefully behind me and tilt my face towards the sun. My conversation with Liv is still occupying my mind, so I’m planning to use the walk into town to process it a bit.
‘I was hoping to catch you.’ Angus’s voice makes me jump.
‘How did you know I’d be here?’ My irritation is plain.
‘I was chatting to that hippy woman yesterday, and she told me you normally went for a walk before breakfast.’
‘Did she?’ Bloody Lynette and her runaway mouth. A thought suddenly comes to me, and I don’t know why, but it makes me feel slightly guilty.
‘What else did she tell you?’ I ask.
He hesitates, which I’m fairly certain tells me all I need to know but, for some reason, I want to hear him say it.
‘Go on. Spit it out,’ I instruct him.
‘She said that you were friendly with the guy who was in my room before me and you used to walk with him every morning. Is that true?’ He sounds hurt, which is pretty rich, when you consider what he did.
‘Finn and I are friends, yes. What’s it to you?’
‘Friends, or more?’
I can feel my temper starting to fray. How dare he?
‘Angus,’ I begin, trying to keep my voice level. ‘That really is none of your business. You ceased to have any right to know anything about me or my life the moment you walked out of our front door.’
To my surprise, this doesn’t have the intended effect at all. Instead, his expression turns earnest.
‘I see what this is,’ he says. ‘And I totally understand.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You’re using this guy to punish me. It’s no more than I deserve and, for what it’s worth, I forgive you.’
Once again, he’s so far off beam that I don’t even know where to start. Unfortunately, he obviously interprets my silence as agreement, because he continues his frankly delusional speech.
‘I did the wrong thing, Laura,’ he’s saying as I continue to stare at him.
‘I wasn’t happy, I explained that, but I should have stayed and worked on our relationship rather than running away.
I know there’s nothing I can say to take away the pain I caused you, but I was a mess.
I needed time to reflect and work out what I really wanted, and I know now that it’s you.
I’m not expecting us to just pick up as if nothing was wrong, don’t worry.
I had some sessions with the cruise therapist and she explained how I’d need to take things slowly and allow you to move at your own pace.
I broke your trust, and that doesn’t come back overnight.
I want you to hear that I understand, and I’m prepared to be patient. ’
I can’t take any more. ‘Which part of this are you not getting, Angus?’ I demand furiously.
‘You left. You didn’t just break my trust, you took everything I thought I knew, everything I felt was safe, and smashed it to pieces with a sledgehammer.
You can say sorry all you like, but it’s not going to change that.
Now, if you don’t mind, I have a walk waiting for me. ’
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I don’t want you to come with me!’
‘I know you don’t, but what kind of man would I be if I just let you wander off on your own in a foreign country? Anything could happen.’
‘Have you seen this place? Nothing is going to happen, and I don’t need your protection, or whatever you think this is.’
‘Still coming with you.’ His stubborn expression is instantly familiar, and I realise any further argument is just going to be wasted breath on my part.
‘Fine,’ I huff. ‘Keep up and don’t be annoying.’
He smiles. ‘I can promise the first, but there are no guarantees on the second.’
Thankfully, he does seem to have heard me, as the first part of the walk passes without him interrupting my thoughts with his idiotic ramblings.
I’d still much prefer him not to be here at all, but I’m grateful that he’s stopped spouting nonsense, at least. One thing that he said is niggling at me though, and in the end it’s me that breaks the silence.
‘You saw a therapist?’ I ask.
‘I did.’
‘But you hate therapists. You always dismissed therapy as navel-gazing bollocks for needy people who are too lazy to sort their own lives out.’
‘Yeah, I know. I was wrong about that too. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. Laura—’
I hold up my hand to stop him. ‘You’ve answered the question. Please stop speaking now.’
When we reach the bridge, I’m almost amused to spot the old woman shuffling towards us. Of all the days to bump into her again, it would have to be the day that I’ve got Angus in tow.
‘Bonjour, madame,’ I say politely as she approaches.
‘Bonjour, mademoiselle.’ She pauses to look Angus up and down. ‘Un nouveau copain?’ she asks, curiosity written all over her face.
‘Non,’ I tell her firmly. The last thing I need is for her to think that Angus is my boyfriend. If she starts one of her rants about true love, it’s just going to add fuel to the fire.
‘Bon,’ she replies, before leaning in to whisper in my ear. ‘Je ne l’aime pas.’
I can’t help smiling as I reply. ‘Je ne l’aime pas aussi.’
She puts her hand on my arm as she corrects me, speaking slowly so I can catch the words. ‘Tu ne l’aimes pas non plus.’
‘What was that all about?’ Angus asks after I’ve bid her farewell and she’s shuffled off.
The temptation to tell him that she’s a self-professed expert on love and relationships who took an instant dislike to him is almost overwhelming but, true as it might be, I’m feeling slightly more charitable towards him than I did when we left the house, so I decide to spare his feelings.
‘She’s someone I bump into occasionally,’ I tell him instead. ‘We were just passing the time of day and talking about the weather.’
‘You sounded really sexy talking French like that,’ he says. ‘You should do it more.’
‘Angus?’
‘Yes.’
‘No. Just no. OK? You don’t get to call me sexy any more.’
‘It’s a compliment.’
‘I don’t care what it is. It’s inappropriate and weird.’
‘I know you’re angry with me,’ he continues, unwisely in my opinion given that I’m actually managing to be reasonably civil towards him at the moment.
‘But we did have ten years together, Laura. You can’t just rewrite history and wipe them out.
Ten years in which we saw each other naked more times than either of us could count.
Ten years of intimacy. That happened, whatever you feel about it now.
I think that entitles me to pay you a compliment without you jumping down my throat. ’
‘Argh!’ I cry, clapping my hands over my ears. ‘Please, just stop.’
‘Making you uncomfortable, am I?’ A faint smile is playing on his lips. I used to love it when that happened. It was like a secret mini-gesture just for me. His smile is very slightly lopsided and I used to find it sexy as hell.
‘I don’t want to talk about… naked stuff,’ I tell him. ‘It’s giving me the ick.’
He roars with laughter. ‘Naked stuff?’ he repeats. ‘What are we, seven?’
‘Shut up, Angus.’
‘Sex,’ he replies, still laughing. ‘Intercourse. Our two naked bodies coming together, instinctively knowing what the other wants and craves. Don’t tell me you can’t picture it and it’s not a good image, because I won’t believe you. We were good, weren’t we?’
‘Whatever. I’m not joining in your personal porno movie.’
‘Naked stuff,’ he breathes again in amusement. ‘Bloody hell.’
Thankfully, we lapse back into silence as we embark on the return journey, but I can tell something is playing on his mind.
‘What?’ I ask eventually.
‘Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?’ he asks.
Uh-oh. I haven’t a clue what Kintsugi is but, if he’s been seeing a therapist, he could have been up to all kinds of batshit crazy stuff.
I bet it’s some kind of weird chanting meditation thing, where you align your chakras or whatever, and he’s going to try to suck me in to doing it with him as some kind of totally messed-up bonding exercise.
‘I’m not into that kind of thing,’ I tell him. ‘I can just about cope with Liv and her Pilates.’
He grins. ‘You think it’s a type of Yoga, don’t you?’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘No. It’s a Japanese art form. The most literal translation of the word is “golden repair”.
They take broken pottery, use a special lacquer to glue it back together again, and then cover the repair with gold.
The philosophy behind it centres around embracing the beauty of imperfection, that an object can become even more valuable after being broken and repaired. ’
‘I see.’
‘There was a talk about it on the cruise. Really interesting, actually.’
‘I’m delighted that you’re taking the opportunity to expand your cultural horizons. Was there a point to this?’
‘Yes. It’s us, don’t you see? It was your allusion to the hammer that made me think of it.
You’re right. Our relationship was a beautiful clay pot full of love.
When I left, it was like dropping the pot on the floor.
It broke and all the love leaked out of it.
That’s where we are now. But, if we apply Kintsugi, not only can we repair the pot and refill it over time, but it could end up being an even more beautiful pot than we had before. ’
I sigh. ‘Angus, that is a lovely analogy, I’ll grant you, if a little bit woo-woo. But this pot is more than broken, that’s what I’m trying to get across to you.’
‘OK, tell it your way,’ he suggests.
I think for a moment.
‘Humpty-Dumpty is probably better.’
‘What?’
‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put this shit together again.’
He looks at me incredulously. ‘That’s all you’ve got? I give you a beautiful analogy, even if I do say so myself, involving intricate Japanese craftsmanship, and you come back with a sodding nursery rhyme?’
‘It does the job, doesn’t it?’
Now it’s his turn to sigh. ‘You’re not prepared to give me any kind of second chance, are you?’
‘No. There’s another saying that applies here, actually.’
‘Do I want to hear it? Is it another nursery rhyme?’
‘Nope. It’s a metaphor. The horse is dead, Angus. Stop flogging it.’
We’re almost at the turning to L’Ancien Presbytère before he speaks again.
‘What about this other guy. Finn, is it?’
‘What about him?’
‘Are you together? I know you said it’s none of my business, but it would help me to understand why you’re so sure we don’t have a future.’
‘We aren’t. Like I told you, we’re friends.’
He stops and turns to me, making me stop as well. He looks at me for so long that I start to feel uncomfortable.
‘You’d like it to be more,’ he states eventually.
‘I don’t know. Maybe, maybe not. I mean it though. Whatever happens, it’s got nothing to do with you.’
He starts walking again, albeit slowly.
‘Here’s what I don’t understand,’ he says as the house comes into view.
‘I’m a known quantity. You know we work well together as a couple.
You were happy, weren’t you? I’m offering you all of that back.
You, me and Meg. We can find another flat and have our old lives again, only better.
I don’t know this Finn, but neither do you, really.
You’re putting someone you’ve spent a few days with above ten years of solid relationship? Risky, don’t you think?’
‘You’re coming at it from the wrong angle. Yes, we had ten years and yes, they were broadly happy, at least I thought they were. But that’s not what this is about. I may have known you, loved you, for a long time, but you shat the mat in spectacular style. There isn’t a Kintsogo—’
‘Kintsugi,’ he interrupts.
‘Whatever. The pieces are too small to be glued together. The pot isn’t worth the effort. Actually, that reminds me. Can I ask you a question?’
‘Of course.’
‘Did you resent me earning more than you?’
‘Of course not! I was delighted that you were doing so well and achieving your dreams.’
Unfortunately, this is where me knowing him so well lets him down. He may be saying the right thing, but I saw something quite different flash across his eyes. Liv was right, and my resolve strengthens further.
‘Look,’ I begin. ‘Let’s say I believed everything you’ve said – I know you do – and we got back together.
I’d just be waiting for the inevitable moment when it all got too much for you again and you disappeared.
Yes, Finn might be an unknown in comparison, but at least he doesn’t come with a history of heartbreak and disappointment. ’
Angus’s shoulders sag. ‘OK, I get it,’ he says. ‘For what it’s worth, I truly am sorry. If I could go back and change it, I would.’
‘I know. But you can’t, and I’m not sure you should.
Whatever you feel now doesn’t change what drove you to leave in the first place, and part of that was me.
I don’t regret our time together, and maybe I’ll come to feel fond of you in time.
But it can never be more than that. We both need to move forwards, not backwards. ’
He looks completely defeated now. ‘You’re right,’ he says miserably. ‘I’m sorry. Do you think we’ll be able to be friends, at least?’
‘I don’t know,’ I tell him honestly. ‘I’m not ruling it out, but sometimes a clean break is better for everyone. There is one thing you can do to improve the chances though.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Stop bloody apologising all the time! It’s getting really annoying.’
He laughs, as I knew he would.
‘You’re right. I’m sorr— Oh, bollocks. I’ll try.’
It’s all I can do not to breathe a sigh of relief. I think he’s finally got the message.