A
few months ago Simon and I agreed to move to the country and attempt to
repair our damaged marriage away from the pressure of city life. Simon
became a local GP, I still worked in London, but with the promise I would
eventually open my own solicitor’s practice in the nearby town.
But I missed city life and was avoiding making the move. I loved London,
its busyness and also its anonymity. Superficially we were happier, we
had a big rambling house we always talked of, but we rarely made love
now, and when we did it was an empty, hollow experience. We no longer
chatted deep into the night, sharing a bottle or two of red wine; most
communication between us now was about the minutiae of everyday life.
I was bored and lonely, and I was certain Simon was too, and our unhappiness
was threatening to overwhelm our marriage. But there seemed to be too
much at stake now, we had committed to a fresh start.
‘So much for relaxing meditation,’ I said to myself, unaware
that I had spoken aloud until I caught the eye of the man opposite me again.
He smiled and winked. He was cute. I smiled back. He was the only man in
the carriage |
dressed in jeans. He looked around
my age, quirkily attractive.
‘Get the Stockholm office to fax the figures over, and pronto,’
the angry man shouted into his phone.
‘Idiot’ mouthed my companion opposite. I suppressed a schoolgirl
giggle, nodded and mouthed back,
‘They’re all idiots, present company excepted.’
I looked out of the window again to escape the mutinous atmosphere in
the carriage, and to prevent myself from laughing aloud.
Passengers were now beginning to become more restless; I was finding it
hard to concentrate. I knew I would have to talk to Simon soon about our
long-term future. I rested my head against the window. To complicate matters
I wanted children, Simon didn’t. His childhood had been unhappy
and he was uncertain of how he would be as a father. But he had waited
until after we married to tell me this. Escaping the reality of our different
hopes and dreams was one reason I had thrown myself into my work. But
I was afraid. Afraid to end an unhappy marriage, but also afraid to make
a leap into the unknown.
|
