Chapter Twenty-Six
Joe
‘Fancy going to the pub tonight?’ I asked Freya over breakfast on the morning of our anniversary.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know. It’s our wedding anniversary, probably our last under the same roof, and I thought that maybe we should have a drink to celebrate? Commiserate? I don’t know, it felt weird to not even acknowledge it.’
Freya looked at me across the kitchen, she was buttering her toast, and she smiled at me. ‘All right then.’
‘Yeah? It won’t be weird?’
‘I mean it will definitely be weird, Joe, but still, you’re right. Probably our last chance to do it.’
‘Say seven? The Cow?’
‘Sounds good,’ said Freya, and that was that.
I had known our anniversary was coming up and I had been thinking about it for the last week or so. Would it be weird to do something together or perhaps weirder not to? Surely it was more difficult to ignore the elephant in the room than to just acknowledge that, yes, actually there was an enormous fucking creature blocking the view out of the window.
We arranged to meet in The Cow pub, the nearest to our house, at seven o’clock, and it had me on edge all day just thinking about it. It was hard when you had a wedding anniversary not to feel pangs of nostalgia, and especially so given our current circumstances. I had a tradition with our anniversaries in the past that I would wear the same outfit, and the same aftershave. It had started on our first wedding anniversary, when for a joke I wore the same outfit I wore on our first date. It was a pair of dark blue Levi’s boot-cut jeans, a pale blue shirt from Ted Baker, a pair of brown leather shoes from Russell & Bromley, and my classic L’Eau D’Issey by Issey Miyake. I had worn the exact same outfit and aftershave on nearly every wedding anniversary since. It had been something of a nostalgia blast, and I was also proud of the fact I could still wear the same clothes I had worn in the early Noughties. Admittedly, now the jeans were quite tight, so my stomach puffed up like I had a child’s semi-inflated swimming ring around my waist, the shirt was definitely a size too small, so I couldn’t button it up and had to wear it casually open with a fashionable T-shirt beneath, but at least the shoes fit. I stood in front of the full-length mirror at home for about fifteen minutes and debated wearing something more contemporary – that actually fit – but in the end I said, ‘Fuck it,’ and went with it.
Freya was going straight from work as she had to stay late, and so I met her at the pub, although when I walked in ten minutes late, she was already there.
‘I can’t believe you wore it!’ said Freya with a smile.
I walked across, doing a little fashion catwalk spin on the way.
‘Of course. It’s still our wedding anniversary.’
‘Well, you still look good in it, Joe. Although I don’t recall the T-shirt addition, and aren’t the jeans just a little—’
‘Drink?’ I said quickly.
‘I’m okay, I already have a glass of wine.’
‘Right, won’t be a sec,’ I said, and then made my way to the bar to get myself a lager. I had to admit that wearing the outfit and being in that pub we had been in so many times before, it wasn’t as strange or as awkward as I thought it might be. There was still something between us that made it okay. I got my beer and headed back to the table. Freya was in a grey work suit, with a white shirt, unbuttoned a few buttons, so I could see the top of her chest and the necklace I had bought her with the white-gold love heart pendant. She still looked gorgeous.
‘How was your day?’ said Freya.
‘Good, yeah. Just writing, mainly.’
‘Mainly?’
‘I had to get ready for tonight. You don’t look this good without the effort,’ I said, and Freya giggled, although as I was sitting down, I realised I needed to loosen my jeans as they were definitely on the snug side, so I covertly unbuttoned the top button without Freya spotting me.
We both took sips of our drinks.
‘I can’t believe Dolly is done with sixth form,’ said Freya.
‘It’s crazy how time flies.’
‘It is.’
‘It doesn’t feel that long ago we had just moved to Brighton, Dolly was a year old, the second series of The Mornings was on, and you and I were, what, ridiculously happy?’
‘I would say so.’
‘It makes all of this even sadder when I think about how great we were because we were fantastic, Freya.’
‘We were, Joe. The very best.’
I didn’t want to make the night weird and go down the rabbit hole of why it all went wrong because we’d had those conversations over and over again. We had dissected our relationship on too many occasions already. We didn’t need to go back over it again when surely the point of tonight, if anything, was to try and enjoy being together again while we still could. We needed to find that thing that had made being together fun in the first place.
‘Do you remember our first anniversary in Paris? That was perhaps my favourite,’ I said.
‘It was. Although you have clearly forgotten you got monumentally pissed on the second night and ended up puking up in the en suite. I bought that expensive piece of lingerie for nothing!’
‘I still claim it was food poisoning. There was something dodgy about those oysters.’
‘The only thing dodgy, Joe, was the amount of vodka you drank. Seriously, we were in the most romantic city in the world and you passed out on the bathroom floor!’
‘You’re hardly one to talk, Freya. Glastonbury two thousand and ten?’
‘That wasn’t my fault and you know it!’
‘You projectile vomited midway through Stevie Wonder! Stevie was singing “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours”, and you were chundering onto my shoes. A brand-new pair of Adidas Sambas, and they didn’t survive the weekend!’
‘Lesson learnt though. Never accept home-made cider from strangers.’
‘I did make up for Paris though. Remember that gorgeous cottage I rented in Scotland?’
‘That was lovely.’
‘Although you had terrible morning sickness the whole weekend.’
‘But still, it was a perfect weekend. Right on the coast just outside of St Andrews, if I remember correctly.’
We looked at each other and smiled. A thousand more memories like that were sitting in my mind, and it felt like one of the most difficult things about the break-up of a marriage to know that the one person who had shared so much of your life wasn’t going to be a part of the rest.
‘How’s the new script going?’ said Freya suddenly, her words jarring against the backdrop of nostalgia.
‘Sorry?’ I said quickly, feeling a heat suddenly rise up inside of me. I had a nervous sip of my lager.
‘The new family comedy you told me about?’
It was definitely time to come clean about House Shared and explain everything to her, but we were getting along so well, I didn’t want to ruin it. I knew she would hate the idea, but Carl loved it, and it was coming along nicely. I was already on episode four, and I had outlined ideas for the rest of the series. Stopping it now just wasn’t an option. Perhaps once I had finished it, and got the green light from Carl, then maybe telling her would be easier. Plus, it would be more difficult for her to say stop when it was already a done deal. I knew it was duplicitous, and underhand, but I really felt like I had no option at that moment.
‘Yeah, umm, good.’
‘What does Carl think? Is he happy with it?’
‘He likes it. He took it to the BBC, and he said they loved the idea, so fingers crossed.’
‘Definitely,’ said Freya, crossing her fingers in front of me. ‘It would be great to see something of yours on television again.’
‘It would. Right, more drinks, methinks!’ I said like someone in a Christmas pantomime, getting up quickly and marching off towards the bar before she could ask me any more questions about House Shared . I got myself another beer and Freya a glass of wine, before I returned to the table.
I moved the conversation along to easier topics, and more moments of nostalgia, and we kept drinking, until it was time to head home. We’d both had quite a few drinks by that point, and as we staggered out of the pub into the fresh air, I felt the alcohol hit me. Freya was definitely a bit drunk, too, and as we walked home I felt her knocking against me, and I had to put my arm around her to keep her stable.
‘I think I’m a little tipsy,’ said Freya.
‘Me, too.’
‘I have Cold Water Club in the morning.’
‘Oh, yes. Ladies-get-freezing-cold-in-the-sea-at-ridiculous-o’clock club. How’s it going?’
‘It’s going great, actually, and surprisingly, once you get used to it, it isn’t that cold.’
‘Oh, okay,’ I said disbelievingly, and Freya gently punched me on the arm.
‘Whatever. I love it.’
‘I actually think it’s brilliant. You shouldn’t have waited so long to join.’
‘I know. I think I put a lot on hold because of us and Dolly.’
‘Well, I’m glad you aren’t any more. You seem happier.’
‘I am. And what about you, Joe? What’s your Cold Water Club?’
‘I don’t think I have one. Maybe once I’m done with this script, I’ll have time to find a new hobby.’
‘What about lawn bowls?’
‘Surely I’m too young for lawn bowls, Freya?’
‘Tennis?’
‘I’m awful at racket sports. Hand-eye coordination issues.’
‘Fishing?’
‘Boring as fuck. Have you ever been fishing?’
‘No,’ replied Freya.
‘It’s shit. Worse than lawn bowls.’
‘Then I give up.’
We kept walking, meandering through conversations until we got home. I struggled to get the key in the lock, which made Freya giggle, and then when I did finally get the door open, we stumbled into the house. Dolly was staying at Maya’s overnight, so we had the place to ourselves. Freya said she’d put the kettle on, and I made us some toast – an old habit after nights out drinking that hadn’t gone away. I put in four slices of white bread and retrieved butter from the fridge, and marmalade and Marmite from the cupboard, while Freya focused on the tea. Once done, we ate our toast and drank our tea in the kitchen, reminiscing about nights gone by when we had done the exact same thing.
‘I’m really going to miss this house,’ said Freya, looking at me across the table.
‘Me, too,’ I replied, eating the last corner of my toast.
‘We’ve put so much work into it and it’s perfect. Now someone else is going to enjoy the fruits of our labour, and what, we’re going to have to move into a flat or something and start over from scratch?’
‘I already have nightmares about moving into a one-bed flat or, worse, a bedsit! What exactly is a bedsit, anyway?’
‘It’s a room in a shared house. You have a kitchen in the flat but you share a bathroom.’
‘Oh, God, it sounds awful. It will be like being twenty again and broke. What’s next? I’ll have to sign on, and move somewhere cheaper like, I don’t know, Darlington.’
Freya laughed. ‘I think you’re being a bit melodramatic, Joe.’
‘Am I?’ I said, and then I smiled at her. ‘Fine, perhaps Darlington was a little far.’
‘I’m just sad we have to leave our beautiful home,’ said Freya after a moment, and I looked across at her, and we both smiled a sad, reflective smile. The sort of smile that said something like: What the fuck are we doing with our lives?
Eventually, it was time to head off to bed, the alcohol being slightly mopped up by the toast, and we stood on the landing, Freya heading off to our old bedroom and me to my room.
‘Happy anniversary, Freya,’ I said.
‘Happy anniversary, Joe.’
Instinctively, I leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek, but slightly misjudged it, and it landed on the side of her mouth.
‘Sorry,’ I said, pulling away slightly, but Freya just looked at me. She didn’t say a word. I didn’t know why, or what was pulling me towards her, but I leaned in and kissed her properly this time, and she kissed me back, our lips coming together with more passion than we’d had in years. A confusing mixture of nostalgia, alcohol, and the thought that suddenly filled my mind was that we had never had a ‘last time’. I mean, there had been a last time, but we hadn’t known it was the final time when we were doing it.
‘What are we doing?’ said Freya, her voice full of passion.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, still with my arms around her, looking into her eyes. ‘But I think I want this. We never had a last time.’
‘I know.’
‘Do you want to do this?’ I asked, and she didn’t say anything, and then she took my hand, and we walked slowly into her bedroom in the darkness, closing the door behind us.