Free Women of a Dangerous Age by Fanny Blake Page B

you’ve been so busy we’ve hardly seen each other over the last month or two.’ He shifted from one foot to the other, his thumb worrying at the cuticle.
    â€˜And you couldn’t wait?’ Her outrage was mixed with a profound sense of injustice. She had trusted him. ‘For God’s sake, Ian. You sprang the idea of living together on me. I had to work every hour God sent to complete my Christmas orders. It’s my busiest time of the year. We agreed. I offered to cancel India, but you said I should go while you sorted everything out.’
    There was a long pause. An unpleasant thought wormed its way into her head. ‘Have you just come here from her?’
    An even longer pause.
    His thumbs were still as he stared at his feet and nodded.
    She shook her head. ‘I loved you.’ The three words were laced with recrimination, regret and sorrow as she realised how little she knew him.
    â€˜I know.’ He crossed the room to stroke her head with a gesture that, only hours ago, would have made her shiver with pleasure.
    â€˜Don’t,’ she said, shrugging him off, as he went on.
    â€˜Surely you understand that I can’t provide the sort of commitment you’re asking. I’d no idea that’s what you wanted. Yes, my wife and I are separating but we’ve still a lot to work through. I can’t take on the responsibility of a new house and I certainly don’t want a baby.’
    â€˜So, what exactly were you planning?’ she spat, knowingthe answer. ‘You were going to live with me and have another mistress on the side. Same pattern all over again?’
    â€˜I hadn’t planned anything. It’s just the way …’
    â€˜I thought so much more of you. You should go.’
    There was nothing else to be said. She went to get his coat, her eyes blurring with tears that she refused to shed until he had gone. Suddenly, all she wanted was Ian out of her home with the minimum fuss and with her dignity intact. Then she would allow herself to absorb what had happened between them.
    He pulled on his coat. ‘Thank you for being so understanding.’ He leaned forward to kiss her but she jerked out of reach. ‘Perhaps in a week or two, we could have a drink or something.’
    She looked at him, astonished by his nerve. Eyes burning, she opened the door and stood back to let him pass. ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
    â€˜Ali, you can’t …’
    She silenced him with a look as he edged by her, then shut him out of her life for good.
    For the next half-hour, she moved around the flat taking down her Christmas decorations. She wrenched off the balls hanging from the twisted arrangement of willow, breaking their threads and stuffing them disorganised into their box. Cards with new addresses were saved while the others were ripped and thrown away, the lid of the recycling bin snapping loudly every time. Her shock and hurt alternated with fury. She had let down her guard, fallen in love, and been completely screwed over as a result. Other relationships had broken up and she’d recovered, but none of them had beenwith a man who had led her to expect so much. Most of them went home to their wives, their marriages sometimes reinvigorated by the liaison with Ali. Others drifted away, found someone else. She had believed Ian was different. How could she have been so stupid?
    Ali had resolved a long time ago never to let herself be cast in the role of victim. As a result, whenever one of her lovers decided to move on, she always picked herself up and got on with her life, however painful. That was part of the deal. And she would survive this too, despite the intense hurt that she felt right now. She slammed the box of decorations into the cupboard with a bang.
    When the flat was back to normal, she went upstairs and ran herself a deep bath where she lay for ages, thinking, every now and again topping it up with hot