Chapter 32 Gilly
Gilly
Always Be Willing to Compromise
‘What are we going to do?’ Ariel threw the spade in the dirt and crossed her arms under her boobs, hiking them up in her low-cut dress, a distraction technique used successfully in the past.
It wasn’t working today. Gilly was wise to her games as they dug up their cottage’s back garden, the baking July heat – even at six in the evening – snaking a line of sweat down her spine.
Removing the weeds, uprooting bushes and turning over the soil was hard graft, but at least the aching muscles took her mind off an aching heart.
‘Not sure.’ They were discussing how to deal with the practicalities of Ariel’s show in central London, since she refused to commute every week.
Things hadn’t been good since the explosive argument about Ariel’s alleged cheating following the gallery event.
Hurling accusations back and forth, old resentments and half-forgotten conflicts had underscored the layers of anger, pain and humiliation.
Unusually for her, Gilly had cried, unable to believe Ariel’s denials and countermoves.
Finally, at 2.00 a.m. she’d lied, telling Ariel she believed her.
The issue was, other than the painting, which could be innocent, there was no evidence.
Ariel mentioning Steve’s name quite a lot and having a new glow about her didn’t prove anything.
Cold, hard facts were required, and with Steve and his crew abandoning the village, there was no one to ask.
Gilly wasn’t the type to embarrass herself by hunting him down, and who was to say he’d admit anything? Denying it would make his life easier.
The morning after their argument, Gilly went into the kitchen to get coffee, only to find the same two picture frames lying broken on the lounge rug surrounded by shattered glass.
There were also brand-new gouges in the wooden floor.
She didn’t know what on earth was going on, but had concluded their flat didn’t like it when they argued, as ridiculous and fantastical as it sounded.
‘Well?’ Ariel demanded, stripping her green gardening gloves off.
Gilly thought of that day’s rule. Always be willing to compromise.
Compromising was about looking for a peaceful solution and trying to make relationships work, but she didn’t feel particularly generous towards her partner.
The creeping uncertainty and doubt dogged every day, which she hated, along with images appearing behind her eyelids whenever she closed them.
Ariel and Steve together, mouths meshed as they groaned their pleasure.
What made it worse was knowing from the painting what he looked like naked, so the visuals were especially graphic.
The piercing hurt and visceral anger were compounded by the irrational wonderings about whether Ariel preferred men and had been stringing Gilly along this whole time.
Or was what they had, and Gilly herself, simply not good enough?
The only thing she knew for sure was that she wasn’t giving up yet. She couldn’t risk their whole relationship based on a hunch. They had to try and rebuild the trust.
Standing, she leaned on the garden fork.
‘I need to be here in the week but could come up at weekends?’ The mere thought was exhausting.
‘But I’d have to take the train and use travel time for emails.
Otherwise, I won’t manage. I already work hard and with the village finances to look after, my time’s even more squeezed.
’ She wouldn’t mention what she’d found in the accounts the previous evening.
It was a conversation for another day. ‘I’m worried about the cost though.
I know you’ve sold a lot of pieces, but we’re talking about hundreds a month.
Not sure we can afford it with this mortgage, we stretched ourselves to get two bedrooms. We also have other outgoings.
’ Including the loan repayment for their most recent failed IVF cycle, and historic credit card bills for the others.
Ariel ground her jaw. ‘I never wanted to move here in the first place. This is the perfect opportunity—’
‘You’re still resentful, even though it’s been positive? I thought you loved Little Beaubrook.’ Something clicked. ‘Wait, that’s your solution?’ she asked, heart in mouth. ‘Pack up and move back?’
‘It’s the only option. Wasn’t your speech about my vocation and always supporting my calling, sincere? A show at a major gallery isn’t something I can turn down, so if you support my career and want our relationship to work, you’ll do this.’
Gilly bit the inside of her cheek, fingers tightening around the fork handle.
‘Am I the only one willing to compromise here? What about my career? I’m doing well.
The Governors are on side, I’ve earnt the kids and parents’ respect, and can already see the green shoots of improvement.
The staff are warming to me too.’ It wasn’t like her to brag, but she needed Ariel to see that education was her vocation.
‘For fuck’s sakes, you can be a headteacher anywhere,’ Ariel retaliated, losing patience. ‘Whereas for the art scene, it’s got to be London. Unless you want to move to Paris or Florence? Why are you making this so difficult?’
Gilly threw the fork down in the flowerbed.
‘I’m not trying to. Yes, in theory I can be a head elsewhere, but I’ve only been here three months, which would raise eyebrows applying for other roles.
It’s also too late to give notice for the end of summer term, so I couldn’t go until Christmas.
No way am I walking out and leaving everyone in the lurch, especially with the previous Ofsted. ’
‘You can tell future employers your personal circumstances changed, hence the timing.’ Ariel’s eyes were wide and glassy, lower lip trembling. ‘You’re just putting barriers up because you don’t want to come with me. And because you think I slept with Steve. Which I did not.’
‘Oh, I’m sick of arguing about this.’ Gilly swung away from Ariel, gazing up at their half-finished cottage.
They’d spent hours inside beavering away, and it had given her such peace.
It was so picturesque – even with the thatched roof missing a section beside the crooked chimney – largely because of the purple roses trailing over the grey stone walls.
She’d read not long ago purple was associated with loyalty.
It was an interesting concept, loyalty, because most people thought about it in terms of other people, but perhaps it was about being true to yourself as well?
For a faltering moment, the shade of the roses darkened, and she blinked. She was obviously more tired than she realised, or needed an eye health check.
Stop procrastinating, Gilly. She sighed. At the end of the day, as charming as the cottage was, it was bricks and mortar. Jobs could come and go, but not the people you loved.
‘We can’t sell this place yet, because of the contract stipulations,’ she grated.
Sensing weakness, Ariel moved to stand beside her.
‘We’ll rent the flat out for now,’ Ariel suggested.
‘You’ll commute until Christmas, and we’ll find you a new job with a January start.
Until then, Deacon’s offered us his spare room for a steal.
He hates living alone and his roommate’s away in Thailand until February. ’
‘You’ve already spoken to him?’
Realising her mistake, Ariel back-pedalled. ‘I was just exploring options before presenting them to you. You’re always telling me to be better organised.’
Neatly turning it around. Gilly grumbled, ‘We both know that’s not what this was. And I really thought we were happy here, with the challenge of the village rebuild and being part of a strong community.’
‘It’s been fun, but alongside a successful career there’s only one thing that’ll ever make me truly happy. Which won’t happen if we’re living apart.’
Back to becoming parents again. Gilly closed her eyes, utterly exhausted.
They were going in circles, a roundabout spinning too fast to jump off safely.
‘Okay. You win. I’ll go.’ Opening her eyes, she picked up her water flask and took a long pull.
Her voice hardened. ‘I want to be alone for a bit. I’ll see you up at the flat for dinner. ’
‘Fine,’ Ariel huffed, abandoning the spade and gloves carelessly on the ground as she stalked away, calling over her shoulder, ‘Happy now?’
Gilly waited until she was out of earshot, before replying, ‘Not really.’
Walking through the back door into Peace Cottage (the worst irony, given their current state) she traipsed into the hallway and ran her hand along the flocked blue wallpaper they’d hung after Theo had watched a YouTube video and plastered their crumbling walls.
She laughed bitterly. Their relationship wasn’t just crumbling, their very foundations were disintegrating.
That fear, along with sadness at the idea of leaving the manor turned the laugh into a sob.
Covering her mouth, she tried to contain her emotions.
Before waving goodbye at Christmas, she’d make sure Little Beaubrook was okay.
The picturesque little village deserved it, and they all deserved to see what it would become, even her despite being initially reluctant to get involved.
The delegation from the developer hadn’t turned up yet, but were expected any day.
She and Ariel must finish their cottage and rent it out to bring new blood in.
Perhaps she could also organise a school event to spread awareness and get the wider community involved, coinciding with Vanessa’s social media campaign, which according to Kirsten was gathering steam.
The champagne-filled celebratory pictures of Theo’s completed cottage posted online the day before had attracted a lot of attention.
The close-ups of Kit and Theo in tight-fitting T-shirts probably hadn’t hurt.