Feta
She worked hard all morning, barely looking up. For lunch, she found that open pack of feta cheese, softening at its edges and with a mauvish-tint, which she ate from a saucer with a teaspoon as if it were a slab of ice-cream. It fizzed on her tongue but did not make her sick, and while that was the least you should expect of a meal it meant she didn’t have to stop working.
By mid-afternoon, in need of something to punch, she thought of her ex-husband. Quickly she opened an email and wrote:
Dear Neil,
How are you? I hope that the family are well, and that parenthood suits you.
I’m well too. In fact, I’ve just returned from a holiday where I did some thinking and also took some advice.
I’m writing to say that the time has come for you to return the money you owe me. Ideally you would pay in one lump sum, but I understand your financial obligations so, if that’s not possible, a monthly payment would be acceptable. Please make a proposal. I am willing to forgo interest but you do have to pay me what is mine. I have financial obligations too.
I sincerely wish you well for the future and hope that we can settle this amicably. I think we will both feel better when this is all brought to a close and we can get on with our lives.
Best wishes, Marnie.
She read it back, changing the phrase ‘took some advice’ to ‘got some legal advice’, pressed send, then rose from her chair and paced as much as the kitchen allowed. She’d hoped for some elation, the kind of satisfaction that traditionally comes from confronting a bully, but it was hard to imagine the Neil she’d known accepting her demands. All she’d done was restart hostilities.
Sure enough, the sound of a text arriving made her jump. Retaliation, she thought, or perhaps it was Michael. She’d resolved yesterday to delete his messages unread. She picked up the phone.
Hi! Are you back? Shall I alert mountain rescue? Have been thinking about you. If you are here, how about that drink? I promise – no walking. Let me know, Conrad x
She read the message twice then once again, alternating between feeling annoyed and flattered by his persistence. Perhaps it might be fun or a chance for revenge. Were ‘fun’ and ‘vengeance’ compatible? She didn’t see why not.
The orthodoxy in the books she’d edited seemed to demand that she wait a couple of days before replying, but who had time for that? She read the text again then replied in two words, Yes and Tomorrow?