The English Wife. Doreen Roberts

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СКАЧАТЬ I thought that sounded a bit abrupt and hurried to reassure her. “I’ve put in an application with the school district, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

      She sounded relieved when she answered, and I figured she’d already replaced me. We arranged a time and place and I hung up, feeling more positive than I could have imagined two months ago. I was going to make it. I’d survived the worst and I had nowhere to go but up. At last life was beginning to look good again.

      I met Val in a quiet little restaurant on the edge of town. With its paneled walls, white tablecloths and soft music playing in the background, it provided a welcome contrast to the health club’s noisy cafeteria.

      She arrived late, falling onto her chair with a flurry of apologies. “Damn traffic, I swear it’s getting worse. I had two calls just as I was leaving. We really miss you at the club, Margie. Things haven’t been the same since you left.”

      Thinking about those days of striving to please all those demanding women, I knew I’d made the right decision. After we both ordered chicken Caesar salads, I listened while Val told me about her latest adventure with a computer date.

      “I was having a good time until he said he’d left his wallet at home. I ended up paying for the meal. Then he asks to borrow cab fare. Hello? I told him he could freaking walk home. Jerk.” She snorted in disgust and took a swallow of the chardonnay the waiter had just put down in front of her.

      For the first time in weeks I felt like laughing. I bit my lip instead.

      “What about you?” she demanded, her eyes narrowing. “You look like you’ve lost some weight.”

      Fifteen pounds to be exact, but I didn’t want to admit to that. “A little,” I said instead. “I’m doing fine. I’m getting used to being on my own. I’m sleeping better and getting things done around the house.”

      “Way to go,” Val murmured. “But what about the cottage? Have you sold it yet? Are you going to England?”

      I waited for the hollow feeling to pass before answering untruthfully, “I haven’t given it much thought lately. I’ve had other things on my mind.”

      “Like what?”

      I reached for my own glass of wine. “Well, like getting a job. Selling my house.”

      Val’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to sell your house? Why?”

      “It’s too big for one person, too expensive.” Too many memories, I added mentally.

      Her eyes lit up. “All right! Can I go house hunting with you?”

      I hadn’t thought that far ahead. The idea of buying another house was unnerving. “I was thinking more of renting.”

      “Even better. We can go look for apartments.”

      I didn’t want to go apartment hunting with Val. She’d force her ideas on me as usual, I’d insist on sticking with mine and she’d get miffed. I changed the subject. “So tell me all about the club. What’s been happening since I left?”

      Fortunately she was happy to fill me in, and we’d eaten our salads by the time she’d finished. Having exhausted her topic, once more she scrutinized my face. “So what about you? You haven’t been moping around the house all this time, have you?”

      “I’ve kept busy.” I fiddled with my glass, even though it was empty.

      “Margie, don’t you have friends, relatives you can visit? You shouldn’t be spending all this time alone.”

      “I don’t mind being alone, and I’ll be working again soon.”

      She pursed her lips. “You don’t make friends easily, do you? I’ve known you for six years, and I feel as if I don’t really know you at all. Except you weren’t happy, and didn’t want to talk about it.”

      I stared at her. “What made you think I was unhappy?”

      “Well, weren’t you unhappy?”

      “I wouldn’t say that. Brandon and I had our differences but we rarely argued.”

      “That’s because you were never together. You led separate lives from what I could tell.”

      I hadn’t realized I’d given so much away. “Well, Brandon wasn’t much of a talker,” I said carefully.

      “But what about friends? You must have had girlfriends you could talk to, have a laugh with and hang out together?”

      “Not really. I’ve never been much on girl talk.”

      Val crossed her arms and I knew I was in for one of her lectures. “Margie, you’re a nice person. A good person. But it’s time you started living. I mean really living.”

      I knew what she meant by that. Computer dates, noisy, smoky bars, crowded dance floors. The very thought of it made me shudder. I managed to pull off a smile. “I’m too old to change now. Guess I’ll stick to my books and music.”

      Val rolled her eyes. “Now you’re talking like an old woman. You need to get out in the world and start living. Go to England, have it out with the bitch and get it all out of your system. Meet new people, and stop hiding behind that damn wall.”

      I was beginning to get a little annoyed with her. “Maybe I’m just not that kind of person.”

      “So what kind of person are you, then?”

      I could have told her about my lonely childhood. How I never really knew my father, who was always away in the military. How after his death my mother had ignored me until her own years later. How distant Brandon had been so much of the time.

      How hard I found it to bare my soul to anyone.

      Instead, I said lightly, “Guess I’m just too independent for my own good.”

      “Yes, you are.” She pouted, managing to look like a petulant little girl. “I want to help you. You’re a friend and I always help my friends. Just tell me what you need me to do. You know you can come and live with me until you get things settled.”

      I smiled at her. I liked her well enough, and I appreciated her generous offer, but I knew our tenuous friendship would not survive the two of us living under the same roof. We’d managed to get along at the club because we’d each had our own job to do, and spent most of the day apart. Thrown together any more than that, we’d drive each other crazy.

      She’d tell me what to wear, what to eat and nag me into smothering my face in hideous makeup, the kind that would sink into my wrinkles and make me look ancient. I needed that like I needed a cup of cyanide. “That’s so sweet,” I murmured. “Thank you, but I should find my own place.”

      Her face dropped, and I felt as if I’d just stepped on a wounded bird. Cringing inside, I added, “I’ll take that help looking for a place, though, if you meant it.”

      She brightened at once. “Of course I meant it. You know where I am. All you have to do is ask.” She looked at her watch. “I have to get back to the club, but call me. Okay?”

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