Chapter 4
Maxine had gone home, hurried to bed alone and refused to speak about the incident with Jo. She ignored Russell’s protests, threw him a blanket and told him he could choose between the spare room with the hard mattress or the sofa.
The next morning, she woke to the smell of baking croissants and fresh coffee.
Russell was trying to wheedle his way back into her affections.
She felt sorry for him – he had caused a mess and he regretted it – but during her meal with Ayeesha she’d realised that it was right for both of them to go their separate ways.
She wondered how hard it would be to persuade him. But she wasn’t going to back down.
Pulling on a silk dressing gown over pyjamas – she wouldn’t wear the black kimono that Jo had borrowed, which was now in the laundry basket with the bed sheet – she sashayed into the kitchen.
Russell looked as if he’d had a troubled night.
The archetypical lovelorn man, rings around his eyes, dishevelled hair, sad face.
He brightened when he saw her. ‘Did you sleep well, Max?’
‘Like a baby.’ Maxine waited for him to play the sympathy card. He was on cue.
‘That’s more than I did. It’s cold in the spare room. The bed’s hard. And – it’s too big without you.’
Maxine ignored the comment and sat down at the table. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’
‘I thought we could talk,’ Russell said.
‘You mean you want to apologise for sleeping with Jo, and then we can forget it and move on.’
‘Could we?’ Russell reached for her hand.
‘No,’ Maxine said firmly, withdrawing her fingers. ‘Breakfast’s nice though. And it’s good that we can be civil about this.’
‘About what?’ Russell was both suspicious and nervous.
‘Is your old flat empty?’
‘I have a tenant in there.’
‘So you can’t move back?’
‘I don’t want to move back, Max. I want to stay here, with you.’
‘Do you have any other vacant properties, Russell?’
He recoiled. ‘Please. I made a mistake.’
‘Poor Jo’s just a mistake?’
‘She came round with one thing on her mind – to get me into bed.’
‘And you were happy to oblige.’
‘Don’t be bitter, Max.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Then forgive me. It was a mistake. I don’t love her. I flirted, yes, but that was to make you give me more attention.’
‘This isn’t how this conversation is going.’ Maxine poured herself some coffee. ‘Don’t make it Jo’s fault. Or mine. This is on you, Russell.’
‘All right, it’s my fault. But you can’t deny we’re good together.’
‘We’ll have breakfast, then I’m going out,’ Maxine said. ‘I want you to live somewhere else.’
‘While you think things over?’
‘No, permanently.’
‘Please – let’s try again.’
‘It’s not up for discussion, Russ. You can stay with a friend, then move back to one of your flats when it becomes available. Or something else. It’s not up to me.’
‘But Max—’
‘No. Eat your breakfast. I don’t want us to argue. We had two good years. But you know in your heart it hasn’t really been right between us.’
‘Don’t say that. We can be good again.’
‘When you slept with Jo, I wasn’t hurt or outraged. I was just – able to see things clearly. We’re not soulmates, Russ. We’re two people who were with each other because it was better than being on our own.’ She patted his hand. ‘That’s not good enough for either of us.’
‘But I love you.’
‘Do you? Really?’ Maxine asked gently. ‘Think about it. You’ll find I’m right. It’s best that we draw a line under everything and say goodbye as friends.’ Maxine pushed the croissant away. She’d taken one bite. ‘Let’s move on. I’m going for a bath, then I’m going to the park.’
‘You want to think about him. He’s always come between us.’ Russell’s face clouded. ‘That’s the truth of it. You can’t love me. You’ve only ever loved your precious Andy.’
Maxine stood up. ‘You’re probably right,’ she said sadly. ‘This is a chance for us both to start again, to see how a different life can be. Take it with both hands. I wish you luck.’
As she walked through the gate that led to Battersea Park, Maxine felt a strange heaviness in her chest, a dragging emotion akin to guilt.
Russell had been in tears when she’d left the flat.
He’d begged her to reconsider. She’d kissed his cheek, although she wasn’t sure now that it hadn’t given him some kind of hope. But she was determined to be firm.
The April wind was surprisingly warm. Sunshine made each blade of grass gleam. As she paced towards the centre of the park and the bandstand, she thought about how easy it was to make him happy. One word. Yes. Three words. I forgive you.
There was nothing to forgive. Maxine didn’t feel betrayed or hurt.
She felt sad that their time together had ended this way.
Maxine thought of Ayeesha, how strong she’d been, how simply she’d dismissed Troy’s behaviour and moved on.
Maxine wondered how resilient she’d have been at twenty-two and knew she hadn’t had half Ayeesha’s mettle.
But then she’d met Andy by then; she’d been in love. She’d believed that they had a future.
At the bandstand, she sat for a while on the steps, where she and Andy had often hung around for hours so many years ago.
Her chin in her hand, she watched people walk past. Family groups, cyclists, joggers.
A beautiful family, the mother in a pink sari, four pretty children bouncing and happy, the father bearded and handsome.
No, Maxine decided, she wouldn’t go down the path of regretting the past. She couldn’t reinvent it, or Andy’s death, having no children.
It was no good feeling sorry for herself.
She was surprised to feel a dampness on her cheek.
A friendly brown and white dog scampered up, probably a Basset hound, its tongue hanging out, and she patted its head.
The owner, a middle-aged woman in a long dress, paused to chat.
Maxine noticed her pale hair, streaked with pink and purple, roughly pinned up, strands tumbling.
Her feet were encased in leather sandals.
‘A cow was on the loose in the road near here recently.’ The woman looked at Maxine for a response but she had none.
‘Oh?’
‘The police chased it down and then they ran it over. Disgusting, isn’t it?’
‘It sounds dangerous.’
‘A cow, dangerous?’ The woman shook her head.
‘I mean – if it was in the road. There would be traffic, buses.’
‘But running over a cow.’ The woman held out a hand, summoning her dog. ‘Here, Trixie.’
‘I’m sure the police tried everything.’ Maxine thought about how ready people were to assume the worst. ‘Was it killed – the cow?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ the woman said. She attached a lead to the dog and walked away. The wind lifted the hem of her dress.
Maxine was a little perplexed by the strange conversation.
She decided it was time to move on. The world was full of so many different people.
Not everyone was compatible. But the sunshine was glorious.
The idea of strolling down to the lake, having a cup of tea in Pear Tree Cafe, suddenly appealed.
Maxine walked faster, feeling light, free. Single.
Maxine arrived back at the flat several hours later.
She’d lost an hour sitting on a bench by the lake, gazing at green trees reflected in green water.
She’d felt at peace. By the time she’d drunk a peppermint tea, a pang of hunger in her stomach had made her order lunch.
She’d lingered, knowing there was nowhere she had to be.
There was a new feeling of strength and independence in being at a table for one.
Maxine decided she could get used to it.
She knew as soon as she pushed the front door open that the flat was empty.
There was something about the stillness.
Russell had gone. Walking around the flat, she saw empty spaces where his things had been, in the wardrobe, on surfaces.
A photo of them both was no longer there. Nor his favourite mug.
She spotted an envelope leaning against the kettle. He’d taken the time to write a note.
Maxine opened the envelope; it was made of thick paper. Inside was a card, bought but handmade, pressed leaves on the front: rosemary, for remembrance. Russell would know that. Maxine opened it and read the familiar handwriting, in neatly rounded black ink.
Max, I’ve got a room at the Rafayel for a few days. It will give us both thinking time.
Know that I’m truly sorry. That you’ll always be in my heart. That I beg you to give us another chance.
Your Russ.
Maxine closed the card, feeling sad. She imagined Russell packing his cases, leaving, closing the front door behind him, one final click. At least at the Rafayel he could have meals, a sauna, spa treatments, there might be a view of the river. It would help him recover.
She realised he still had a set of door keys. He still had hope.
Maxine drew a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. She looked around. The space was just hers now – it felt good. It was time to open windows, clean the flat, change the scent in the air. And wash her kimono…
Being single felt like a privilege – her time was her own. Saturday afternoon stretched like soft elastic, becoming early evening, with a bottle of wine, a simple dinner and a good book, then a deep night’s sleep in her own bed.
On Sunday, she pulled on leggings and a T-shirt and walk-jogged the ten minutes to the 166 Cafe Bar for breakfast. Becoming fitter would be a priority, now she was single.
And so much self-care. An hour later, she limped back and spent the rest of the morning lying on the sofa in reading glasses and bare feet, reading newspapers.
The afternoon was gloriously warm, so Maxine felt drawn to the park again.
A band was playing, light music on the air.
There was a wedding in the Pump House, and she paused to gaze into the open marquee.
The bride was dancing with a man who was probably her father; they were clasped together in a waltz, the satin of her lavish gown sweeping the floor.
The guests were all in their best dress; most of the men wore kippahs: it was a Jewish wedding.
Long trestle tables were covered in white linen, shining cutlery, set for a celebration.
Maxine watched as the dancing continued.
The horah. The guests held hands and moved in a circle, one way, the other, singing and cheering.
The happy couple were hoisted on chairs, their arms in the air, joyous.
Maxine remembered her quiet wedding to Simon.
She’d been thirty-two. It had been an autumn ceremony at a register office with a few close friends.
She’d loved Simon in a way, but not in the way that he’d deserved: in her heart, she’d known at the time that he wouldn’t make her truly happy, not as Andy had.
As she watched the laughing couple, the bride in her sumptuous dress, the groom smiling and handsome, Maxine wished them the best. In her experience, a love that lasted was an elusive thing. The couple seemed filled with belief that they’d be together for eternity. She hoped that they would.
She moved away to the lake to look for swans and ducks: she loved the way they glided along, ripples spreading. It was a place where she and Andy had often stood, whatever the season, hand in hand, making plans.