Chapter Five
Freya
Three years before Joe and I sat in a coffee shop and made the arrangements for our separation, we were in bed one night, side by side; he was on his phone, and I was on mine. I was doomscrolling through my Facebook feed when I noticed something odd, and on further inspection, it seemed my initial suspicion was proved correct.
‘I think Emily and Nick have broken up!’ I said.
‘What? Emily, your old university mate Emily, and tall Nick?’ replied Joe, resting his phone on the bed for a moment.
‘I was just looking through some photos she put up on Facebook, and Nick’s not in any of them. It’s just her and the kids.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’ve broken up, though, right?’
‘It doesn’t, but then I went back through her old photos, and noticed a pattern. Nick’s not been in any photos for a good six months. He was in photos, and then he wasn’t. I cross-checked that with her Instagram account and it’s the same. She even deleted all the photos of them together. Nick’s been cancelled!’
‘Nice work, Sherlock.’
‘I can’t believe it. Nick and Emily were amazing together. They were the “it” couple at university. Remember their wedding?’
‘Yeah, it was grand.’
‘Why are you saying grand? You aren’t Irish.’
‘Sorry, I’ve been writing an Irish character for a thing, and he says “grand” a lot. Maybe too much. I should probably learn some other Irish words other than “grand” and “feckin’ eejit”.’
‘Probably,’ I said, looking across at him. ‘Joe, promise me we’ll never break up.’
‘Never going to happen.’
‘Why? It happened to Emily and Nick, and I thought they were nailed on for life. They were the couple most likely to die in each other’s arms at ninety, and now they’re probably haggling over child support.’
‘So many reasons, Freya, but really the main thing is that the thought of having to go through all my social media accounts and delete all the photos of you seems like a lot of work.’
‘You knob,’ I said, punching him gently on the arm.
‘But seriously, we’re okay.’
‘Just okay?’
‘Better than okay. There’s nothing in the world that could break us up. Just because Emily and Nick couldn’t make it, it doesn’t mean we won’t. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.’
I put my phone down, slid across the bed towards Joe, cuddling into him. He was right, we would be fine. Maybe Nick cheated, or Emily had an affair. Perhaps there was something else going on I didn’t know about. Maybe they had just fallen out of love. I would text her in the morning and find out, but at that moment, I was with Joe, and we were going to be fine. Better than fine, we were going to be feckin’ grand!
My office was in one of the gorgeous white Georgian townhouses on the border between Brighton and Hove. The building had five floors in total and our solicitors’ took up three of them. Becket, Godwin we had discussed the less-than-finer points of my marriage many times over lunchtime sandwiches, but she didn’t know the full extent of them.
‘Not bad. The usual. George and Henry both had cricket in Lewes all day Saturday, so that was it really. Stuart worked most of Sunday, but after Cold Water Club, so I had that time just for me, which was lovely.’
‘Ah yes, Cold Water Club. How’s it going?’
‘Freya, it’s brilliant. You should come along. There’s no better start to the day than a brisk dip in the sea, followed by a flask of hot tea, and a good natter with mates.’
‘Brisk? I think it’s probably a bit chillier than brisk. Doesn’t it freeze your nipples off?’
‘You get used to it, and it makes you feel so alive. You should come once, and if you totally hate it, I won’t bug you again. Promise.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I said, as Sam Becket came walking in behind me, carrying his folded-up Brompton bicycle.
‘Morning, ladies,’ he said in his deep, warm voice.
‘Morning, Sam,’ we replied in unison.
Sam Becket was tall, handsome, recently turned fifty, and divorced from his wife, Helena. He had two grown-up children and cycled to work on his foldable Brompton bicycle. Every day, you would see him outside folding it or unfolding it, and he stored it in his office. He had already taken his helmet off, his now slightly greying hair beneath, cut short and neatly groomed, and he was wearing a navy suit with smart brown leather shoes. He always smelled incredible, too, and was one of those men that had a signature scent. I wasn’t sure what fragrance he used, but it had hints of citrus, maybe bergamot, something spicy and warm, and with deeply woody undertones. He definitely had the handsome, middle-aged solicitor thing down to a tee, and there had been talk since his divorce about whether he was dating again. Sam walked past us, and then up the stairs to the second floor and his office, his bicycle in one hand, and his leather briefcase in the other.
‘Do you want to get lunch today?’ I asked Lucy. ‘I need a chat.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘It’s not, it’s just something.’
‘Then I’m in. I didn’t have much for breakfast, and I quite fancy a nice sandwich or something. About twelve thirty?’
‘Perfect. See you then,’ I said, and then I walked up the stairs towards the space where my desk was, in an office I shared with two other more junior paralegals. I settled in, got myself a coffee from the kitchen, and then got to work, grateful to be busy to take my mind off Joe and Dolly’s reaction to our news. I had barely seen her since we told her. She had been in her room all of that night, and then she went to Maya’s house all of the next day. I had texted her, and asked if she was all right and wanted to talk, but she said she was fine, just busy with college work, and so I left it, but I couldn’t stop worrying about what it might mean. Sometimes Dolly felt like a code I couldn’t quite crack. I wanted to be closer to her, wished we had that classic television mother–daughter relationship, that I was the one she went to for advice, but we had never quite had that. If anything, she was closer to Joe, which was something I’d always had a hard time with. I wasn’t jealous of their relationship, and I was glad she had someone she could talk to, but I also quite wanted that person to be me.
It was bright out, and Lucy and I walked from the office to an artisanal cafe nearby. I didn’t often have lunch with Lucy because we were generally both too busy, but I needed to talk to her. Lucy’s husband, Stuart, was good friends with Joe, and I didn’t want Lucy finding out about our separation from him. I had no idea whether Joe was going to tell Stuart, but I couldn’t risk it, and it would be good to get her perspective.
‘What’s going on?’ Lucy asked, tucking into her sandwich.
I was nervous about saying the words out loud. I had talked to Mum, and Joe and I had told Dolly, but this felt, if anything, slightly scarier. Lucy was a friend and once it was out in the real world and people other than close family knew, it would make it seem more real. It would be news. I took a small breath and then I said the words I had been rehearsing all morning.
‘It’s me and Joe. We’ve decided to separate.’
‘Oh, shit, Freya, that’s…’ She paused for a moment, probably trying to choose the right words. She placed her sandwich back on the plate. ‘Really shit. Are you okay?’ She reached a hand across the small table and placed it momentarily on my arm for support.
‘I’m fine, I suppose, given the situation. It’s been coming for a while, so.’
‘Really? I knew you were having some problems, but I suppose I just thought you’d figure them out. I mean, we all have our ups and downs, don’t we?’
‘We do, but the last year or so has all been down for us, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m so sorry. You know if you need anything, I’m here for you. Stuart, too.’
‘Won’t he be on Joe’s side?’ I said without realising what I had actually said.
‘We don’t have to take sides, do we?’ said Lucy, an expression of concern flashing across her face like a heavy cloud suddenly moving in front of the sun.
‘No, sorry, shit, I didn’t mean it like that,’ I replied quickly. ‘I just meant, you know, because they’re mates and men, that’s all.’
‘Right, good,’ said Lucy, and I took a bite of my cheese toastie, and then a sip of my coffee.
‘To be honest, it feels strange. Like, it’s not really happening,’ I said, after a moment.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I don’t know, but you imagine the end of a marriage, and you think of countless fights, long emotional talks late into the night, and just something big and gargantuan coming between you like an affair or a midlife crisis. You think that after almost nineteen years, it would feel like someone had ripped my heart out, like I did when Adam Turner dumped me at eighteen, and I cried for a week and refused to eat. But this, it just feels too… civilised.’
‘I mean, this is Joe we’re talking about.’
‘And?’
‘He’s just not very emotional, is he? Have you two ever had a huge fight? You know the sort when you’re screaming in each other’s faces, and you want to kill them?’
‘Well, no, but I always thought that was sort of a good thing. Have you and Stuart?’
‘Oh, yes. Usually before the best sex ever! Stuart’s passionate, I’m passionate, and sometimes it bubbles over, but I think it’s good. We get everything out in the open. It’s like how sometimes you need a really big thunderstorm to clear the air. Joe always seemed like the sort of bloke who was just a bit, I don’t know, apathetic. Sorry, I’m not trying to be callous.’
‘No, no, it’s fine. Maybe you’re right. He hated arguing, and so we didn’t. So many things were never said, or discussed because he couldn’t handle it. I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t care enough, but that, well, if you met his dad you’d understand. They’re exactly the same. If anyone so much as mentioned a feeling, or heaven forbid shared something too personal, it was like you’d taken a shit in the middle of the room. Even when Joe’s mum died, it was just, I don’t know, weirdly unemotional. They’re like a working-class version of the royal family.’
‘Which is why maybe now it feels like it’s limping to a rather sad finish.’
‘I hadn’t thought about it like that before,’ I replied, and the more I thought about it, the more I realised that Lucy was right. Joe hated fighting. He never raised his voice, or engaged with me, and instead we both let the little things fester. Maybe over time all those little things became bigger things and because we didn’t deal with them they slowly destroyed us. When I had suggested marriage counselling, Joe had declined and repeated the same mantra over and over whenever the topic came up: If we can’t deal with this ourselves, Freya, then our marriage is already over. What he hadn’t considered, and what I hadn’t either, was that maybe what we really needed was just to scream at each other a bit.
‘I think what you need is Cold Water Club. It will literally change your life!’
‘Change my life?’ I asked, because I didn’t understand how standing in the freezing cold sea at seven o’clock in the morning would change my life.
‘Guaranteed,’ said Lucy with a smile.
‘Fine. I’ll come.’
‘Yes!’
‘But just once, and if I hate it or get life-threatening hypothermia, you’ll leave me alone?’
‘On Stuart’s life,’ said Lucy before we got back to our sandwiches, my mind suddenly feeling somewhat lighter because maybe Cold Water Club was at least something new, and maybe Lucy was right about shouting at Joe – was it the solution we had been searching for all along? Whether either of those things would ultimately change anything I didn’t know, but it was surely a move in the right direction. Actually, it was just a move, and moving felt good because for so long my life had felt stuck and unmoveable, and perhaps just doing something different was all I needed to feel alive again.