Free The House on the Cliff by Charlotte Williams Page A

. . .”
    Mari didn’t reply. I knew why. She and Bob had never really got on. They’d grown up in the same valleys town together, moved to the city at the same time, but they’d never been close. Neither of them had expressed their feelings about each other to me in so many words, but I was fully aware of their mutual unease with each other. I put it down to a simple personality clash, along with the competitive spirit that sometimes exists between people who’ve come from nowhere and done well for themselves. And also the fact that, beneath her cheerful exterior, Mari was actually quite cynical when it came to men.
    “He’s feeling terribly guilty,” I went on. “I wish I could talk it through with him, let it go. But I can’t. I keep imagining what she looked like . . . what exactly happened . . . what they did . . .” I stopped.
    “I wouldn’t go there, if I were you, cariad .” Mari squeezed my arm.
    “But why would he do this?” I went on. “After all these years. I thought we were OK together. I thought . . .”
    “Was anything wrong between you?”
    “No.” I took another puff of the cigarette. It was making me feel giddy, but I soldiered on.
    “Sex all right?”
    I thought about it. “Well, OK. Nothing spectacular. But quite . . . serviceable, I suppose.”
    There was a short silence, and then Mari laughed. “Serviceable, eh? Well, maybe what you both need is a bit of a shake-up.” She hesitated. “Why don’t you give him a taste of his own medicine? Have a little dalliance of your own.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous.” I was taken aback. “I’d never do that.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because . . . well, because I’m just not interested in other men.” I paused. “I used to be, of course. Rather too much, actually. But these days I never think about that kind of thing.”
    “Really?”
    “Yes, really.” For an instant a picture of Gwydion in his tight T-shirt flashed into my mind, but I dismissed it. “I’d never dream of risking my marriage. I’ve got the girls to think of. It would be completely irresponsible.”
    “No one’s asking you to run off for good, are they?” Mari paused. “And Bob’s hardly in a position to complain. If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation. You’ve got carte blanche now. Enjoy your freedom. It’s probably the last taste of it you’ll get for a long while.”
    I was shocked. “But that’s childish, Mari. Childish and dangerous. Marriage isn’t a power game. And it isn’t just about sex, either.” I realized I was beginning to sound sanctimonious, but I carried on all the same. “It’s about love, and trust. And . . .” I did my best to finish the sentence, but the words didn’t come.
    Mari gave a wry smile. “Well, maybe you’re right. Maybe things have changed since I last had a husband.”
    She shrugged, taking a last drag of her cigarette. Then she threw the butt down beside mine, where it lay soaking in a puddle. Together we looked out at the car park, watching the rain running off the roof in front of us. Then she said, “Come back in for a drink, Jess. I think you need one. Or several.”
    “No,” I said. I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m tired. I’m going home. Thanks for listening.”
    “Any time.” She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a hug. “Let me know how things go.”
    “I will.”
    She turned to go back indoors, and I ran out into the rain, giving her a little wave as I went. Then I got into my car and drove home, down the dark streets to the house, waiting quietly for me in the rain, under the lamplight.
     
    The following Monday, back in my office, I was waiting for Jean to turn up for her session. She was already half an hour late. Normally she’d have been there early, sitting outside in the waiting room, giving me a reproachful look if I happened to pass by, as though to express her dissatisfaction that I couldn’t even give her an extra five minutes of my time.