Chapter 24
Sean
‘You know what you’ve not said yet?’ Sean planted little kisses on Cherry’s earlobe, listening for that little whimper that caught in her throat when he did that. The love swing swayed gently beneath them.
‘Thanks for assembling the swing?’ she offered.
‘No, you thanked me for that.’
‘I haven’t suggested we do it on the swing?’ Cherry deliberately rocked the seat so it swayed a little more.
‘You haven’t, and if that’s a suggestion, then we can do it in, say, half an hour.’ Sean tipped his chin to the incipient moon slowly emerging into the evening sky. ‘But what you’ve not said is that any of this was a mistake.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Cherry pulled up the throw as the air cooled around them. ‘I don’t think it’s a mistake. How could something so good be wrong?’
‘See, this is what I’ve been trying to tell you…’ Were they at last on the same page? Could this be the breakthrough he’d longed for?
‘Are you absolutely sure, though?’ She leaned away from him a little. ‘You certain you can handle life with me?’
He knew what she meant when she said ‘life with me’, but so many things combined now to tell him that life with her was exactly what he wanted, no matter the shape or size.
Her strength and courage. Her wicked sense of fun.
The way he couldn’t be away from her for a day without aching for her.
And the sex. If Cherry walked out of his life now, Sean might become a monk, because being with anyone else would be a crushingly empty experience.
As for the tough stuff…
‘Cherry, I was born to handle life with you. But the things you talk about “handling” are a hypothetical for us.’
‘I know, but you don’t know––’
‘Okay. Let me stop you there.’
She stalled. ‘What?’
‘You are going to have to stop assuming I can’t cope with things, especially things that haven’t even happened. I’ve just watched my dad die from one of the most unforgiving illnesses there is, and I’m still standing.’
‘That’s true.’ She leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘Sorry.’
‘Lie down.’ Sean motioned to his lap.
‘What?’
‘Lie down. I want to tell you a wee story and see your beautiful face.’
Cherry manoeuvred her head into his lap, like she had in Central Park, blanket tucked under her arms. ‘Is that better?’ She gazed up at him.
‘Aye.’ Sean softly swept at her hairline with his thumb. ‘You know, when I was in my twenties, I went out with this woman who was a few years older than I am now. Went off to London to be with her. You could say it was my awakening in many ways. She showed me quite a few ropes.’
‘Ah, well, that might explain a few things.’ She touched his jaw. ‘Sexy man.’
‘Thanks. We’re always learning. Anyway, she ended things after six months, told me that I wasn’t the sort of guy she could see herself settling down with.
Not that I wanted to settle down with her, but it grated, because she said I was fun, the sex was great, but that she had higher ambition than a village boy.
Like I was some sort of idiot with straw coming out of my ears.
’ This was too long ago now for it to bother Sean, but it was the right tone to illustrate his point to Cherry.
‘The wee cow. You know I don’t think that about you, Sean.’
‘Do I?’ Sean spoke without accusation, but seriously.
‘I think you think I’m made of straw – that I’ll give under the slightest bit of pressure, that I don’t have the capacity to cope.
You’ve decided that and, quite honestly, being underestimated pisses me off because I’m not that guy. I’m not your ex.’
‘I know, but you’ve told me you want a family and––’
‘Cherry.’ Sean had listened to Cherry a lot, but now it was his turn, so he forgave himself for interrupting her.
‘All we need right now is me and you. Our feelings for one another. Nobody knows what’s in the future.
Not Jamie, Alicia, Cal, Bea, Carli. Niall, anyone.
And quite honestly, if there was ever a point since meeting you that I could have let you go, it was probably around the vol-au-vents, and even then, I doubt it.
If it was a question of some woman I had diluted feelings for and ten kids, or you and none, I’d choose you. Every fucking time.’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes darkened a little with surprise. How could she not know this? Had he not shown her the depth of his feelings?
‘Aye, oh. Tell me, what would you have done if the shoe had been on the other foot? If I’d told you, say, in that elevator, that I was shooting blanks?’
Now she brightened. ‘I’d have done anything with you in that elevator. It was you with all the self-control.’
Sean mentally banked to go back there one day and finish what they’d started. ‘There you are.’ He teased out some leaves and garden detritus from her hair.
‘I know, Seany. I know.’ She found his hand and gently stroked it in a way that almost had him stirring into the back of her neck.
‘Can we take it slow? The annulment is up in smoke, but I don’t want to mess this up.
I don’t know how we work that exactly – maybe we keep separate rooms or something – until I get my head round things. ’
‘Sure.’ Sean placed a leaf from her hair onto the blanket.
He wouldn’t remind her of the irony, given that they’d had sex three times in one day.
It was a move in the right direction. He’d give her time.
Although, not forever; she would know that.
‘I’m going to take separate rooms as a reason to do it in lots of other places besides the bedroom. ’
She laughed and rolled her neck very deliberately over his lap. ‘Sure, let’s start with love-swing-sex in, say, half an hour?’
One thing that was important to Sean, regardless of how fast they moved and where they ended up, was Cherry’s inner peace. It hadn’t escaped his thoughts that sorting one other aspect of her life, might help her peace of mind and their marriage.
‘So, listen, have you spoken to your mum since we saw her at the caravan site?’ he said a short time later as, still on the swing, they drank beer. The temperature was dipping considerably, and love swing sex hadn’t quite happened yet. There was always the couch.
‘Nope. She sent me a text about something to do with the tides, but we haven’t engaged in any meaningful conversation.’
‘Right, well, I was thinking…’
‘That’s really not necessary.’ Cherry blew across the opening of the beer bottle.
Sean smiled and kissed the crown of her head, catching notes of her blossomy shampoo. ‘Believe it or not, I think on a daily basis, so it wasn’t a stretch.’
She gazed up at him lazily, beer-softened. ‘Go on, then.’
‘Okay, you know the “colour my thingy” thing you’re hosting next week? Why don’t you invite your mum? She can stay here, get to know everyone and you guys can spend some quality time together.’
‘Mmm.’ Cherry nuzzled into his neck. ‘I’d like to colour your thingy.’
‘Cherry, I’m actually being serious here.’
‘Sorry.’ She pulled her face into a more sombre expression.
‘You might have a nice time with her. I know you think half of what she believes is bollocks, but it’s not like you’re buying into some sort of extremist ideology by inviting her round with her colour swatches, is it?
’ God only knew what it would be like having Cherry and her mum together in the house, but if it helped mend their relationship, he would do it. He’d do anything for her.
‘No, I suppose not. But, Sean…’
‘Is this a new argument?’
‘No, but I can’t have her coming here and reminding me why she thinks I’m such a failure in life.’
Cherry’s insecurities ran deep – her mum was her only parent, and things had clearly been strained for many years – but all Sean had was straightforward solutions. Sometimes those were what worked best. ‘So, you tell her not to. You write her a letter––’
‘Nobody writes letters anymore.’
‘Your mum’s generation do. And it’s way more personal than an email. Write a letter inviting her here for a weekend. In the letter, say that you don’t want any card readings, but to focus on the positive – which is your marriage to me – and the future.’
Cherry raised an eyebrow. ‘Our marriage is the positive?’
‘Of course.’ He took her wedding finger between his thumb and forefinger and lightly twisted her ring.
‘Be honest with her because that is the only way this is going to work. Tell her you need to know she doesn’t think you’re a failure and you’d like to go some way to healing your relationship.
Do it the Sean’s Simple Psychology way and see if it works. ’
Cherry sat in silence for so long that Sean could swear he heard both their heartbeats.
He could only hope she was thinking about it, giving it a chance to work.
Eventually, she leaned closer into him. ‘It terrifies me. It could all backfire and set me back again. I’m only now recovering from the last time I saw her. ’
Sean took her hand and interlocked their fingers, hers both warm from their contact and cold from confrontation.
‘I know. You’ve come a long way, Cher, but she’s your mum and she’s going to have a big sway on how you feel.
There’s a chance you’ll have to work through things alone, but maybe she’ll come to the table.
And I’ll be here if it gets tough. I think you have to try. ’
That evening, as Sean cooked dinner, Cherry sat at the kitchen table and wrote a letter to her mum. By the time the meal was in the oven, she was surrounded by at least thirty bits of crumpled paper spilling onto the floor.
‘Ugh. Why is this so hard? Everything I write sounds pathetic. I’m sorry we haven’t-this. I truly hope we can-that.’
Sean sat down opposite her at the table, dishtowel slung over his shoulder.
‘Listen, there is no way that every single one of these drafts is pathetic. Whatever you write, you will think it sounds that way. I want you to write one more, and before you even think about crumpling it up, you are going to fold it and stick it in an envelope and put the address on the front. You can tell yourself it’s not perfect, but then again, neither are you or your mum. Okay?’
It was as if he’d revealed the secrets of the universe to her, the way she gaped at him, eyes all shiny and bright.
‘You make it all sound so simple.’
‘Sometimes that helps you get by. As I said, Sean’s Simple Psychology. Brought to you by a very complex man.’
‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘Not really, no, but I do care, Cher. A fuck-load.’
He could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes, but she focused on putting pen to paper like a small child practising her handwriting. He got up and left her to it, but as he prepped the meal, he could see her signing the letter, sliding it into an envelope and writing the address on the front.
‘Go post it now. I’ll have a glass of wine waiting when you get back.’
‘Really? Now?’
‘Aye, there are stamps somewhere in that drawer over there. If you don’t do it now, you might never do it.’
‘But the postbox… It’s in the village. And it’s sort of raining.’
‘So, put your trainers on and run. That way, you qualify for two glasses of wine. Oh, and Cherry…’ Sean remembered something else.
‘Aye.’
‘There’s another letter over by the printer. Can you do something with it?’ He focused sharply to see how she would respond to this. Sure, the annulment was fucked, but that she might still want to commit perjury or get a divorce lingered treacherously in the back of his mind.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Slowly, Cherry moved to the printer and picked up the envelope Sean had put the annulment forms in. It was still open, and he watched her lick the seal and fix it down, watching him right back, over the edge, like someone blatantly committing a sin they wanted to be punished for.
Sean’s heart was beating like a racehorse at the steeplechase as, envelope in hand, his wife walked back to him, seemingly in the slowest motion that had ever existed.
Reaching the kitchen island, she pressed her foot to the pedal bin.
Up popped the lid. Pulse thumping, he watched as she hovered the envelope over the abyss – their future a piece of paper dangling over a black plastic bag.
Until, finally, she parted her fingers, and the envelope tumbled down into the murky depths.
Sean tried not to let out too audible a sigh of relief as it became clear the annulment forms were where they both wanted them to be, mingling with the rubbish at the bottom of the bin. But when Cherry blew him a kiss, he knew the stupidest smile had lit up his face.
Her mission seemingly not yet complete, she walked towards the bottom kitchen drawer, the one where Sean kept tape and other odds and ends.
The place where he’d stashed something he wasn’t sure what to do with.
Something he’d assembled shortly after she arrived here but had never found an opportune moment to give to her.
He’d considered leaving it next to the annulment form but had chickened out, wondering if the whole thing wasn’t a bit insensitive.
But it seemed she had found it before now and was not upset in the least.
Carefully, Cherry pulled out the weighted-down piece of paper, laying it on the counter while she rummaged in the drawer for Blu Tak. Then she took both items over to the fridge, where she stuck the paper to the door.
‘I bloody love this.’ Standing back, she examined his handiwork like it was The Mona Lisa.
‘It’s just like me. The balance of wholewheat and plain spaghetti for the hair is perfect.
You’ve captured my arms and legs so flatteringly with the penne.
And the textured curl of my eyelashes with the fusilli and this farfalle croupier bow tie? Genius!’
At last, Sean let himself laugh – such sweet relief. ‘How do you know it’s you?’
‘As I said, it looks like me. And because it says “my wife” in spaghetti at the foot of the page. Do you have another wife?’
‘Nope, just you.’
‘There you go then. And now I have my macaroni art on the fridge. Life is pretty damn good.’ She beamed at him.
And he beamed right back, a thousand times as bright.
Fuck! He loved this woman.