The Last Year Of Being Married. Sarah Tucker

Think he published it in a later edition of the magazine he was so proud of it. Not nice to read. Well, I enjoyed reading it, which is why I saved it. But not nice for Paul, obviously.’

      Kim—‘Well, he shouldn’t have been reading your e-mail, then, should he? Serves him bloody well right.’

      Sarah—‘He was trying to sort out my virus and was checking to see who had given it to me.’

      Kim—‘Yeah, really. Well, he found out, didn’t he?’

      Sarah—‘Yes, yes, but you know what I mean. Well, he was furious—and rightly so.’

      Kim—‘What do you mean, rightly so? He wasn’t fucking fucking you, Sarah. He hasn’t been sleeping with you for years. That’s emotional cruelty or punishment or something. Anyway, it’s not natural, and I think he should go and see a counsellor or someone about it.’

      Sarah—‘Think he went to see his priest.’

      Kim—‘His priest? That’s gonna screw him up even more.’

      Sarah—‘I know, Kim. I’ve got to the stage when I think Hey, my husband won’t sleep with me, won’t give me a sound reason why he won’t sleep with me, and won’t go to see anyone about why he won’t sleep with me, but he doesn’t want me to mention it to anyone.’

      Kim—‘Of course he doesn’t want you to mention it to anyone. They’d think he was bonkers. You’re a babe, Sarah. And with friends like his, they’d probably try and sleep with you themselves.’

      Sarah—‘Yes, one of his brokers did say over dinner once that if we lived in London he would have probably slept with me by now.’

      Kim—‘Was he drunk?’

      Sarah—‘Think so.’

      Kim—‘Was Paul there at the time?’

      Sarah—‘The broker was taking us out for supper. At the Ivy. He was with his wife. She talked Botox all night.’

      Kim—‘Sounds like a lovely evening.’

      Sarah—‘It was interesting. Never saw them again after that. Think Paul still does business with him, but I don’t ask. Anyway, I’m going slowly nuts. And along comes this guy who obviously does want to sleep with me. And—well, the rest is history.’

      Kim—‘If your husband doesn’t fuck you, someone else will. If it was the other way round he would have slept with someone else. Mark my words, Sarah. He would have had an affair. Lots of them.’

      Sarah—‘Yes, I know it’s different for men.’

      Kim—‘Too bloody right it is. They can do it. But you can’t. Well you did. But you had a reason.’

      Sarah—‘Paul could argue that so does he.’

      Kim—‘Ah, but that’s different. The no-sex thing is his choice, Sarah. Not yours. And it’s up to him to go and see someone about it. You can’t go for him.’

      Silence again. We’re both thinking. Then…

      Kim—‘I know one guy who had an affair with this other woman. But when he got divorced from his wife, and the other woman said she wanted to marry him, the bugger turned round and told her he couldn’t marry someone like her because she’d gone off with a married man and he couldn’t marry someone that immoral.’

      Sarah—‘Double standards.’

      Kim—‘Quite. But it happens. Anyway, have you told anyone other than me about the no-sex thing?’

      Sarah—‘Few people. Told Stephen in Australia. That’s why he slept with me.’

      Kim—‘Not a good idea to tell men about that. Specially those that are a bit lecherous. Beware men who see you as vulnerable. They think it’s sexy. Plus you’re easy prey.’

      Sarah—‘Well, I wanted to. Can’t seriously say he seduced me, or I was taken against my will. Think I actually seduced him. And it was the other side of the world.’

      Kim—‘Yeah, and it came back to haunt you. Bloody e-mails. You never know who’s reading them.’

      Duncan returns to ask if we are enjoying our meals.

      Duncan—‘Is it enough for you, madam?’

      Kim—‘Yes, thank you.’

      Duncan—‘Good. Anything else I can do, just let me know.’

      Kim—‘Thanks. Dessert menu after this would be good.’

      Duncan smiles and leaves.

      Sarah—‘I think one of the problems we have is that he comes from a very traditional background. His mother did everything for him. He’s the eldest of four boys, and his father was out working all the time, so his mum got the brunt of it. And she’s a bit—well, odd emotionally. So he’s used to having everything done for him. And getting his own way.’

      Kim—‘Yes, he is rather boorish. But he has to be aggressive for work. It’s a dog-eat-dog environment.’

      Sarah—‘Absolutely, and he doesn’t like most of those he works with, and trusts even fewer, so that’s bound toruboff. Asformylifestyle—onthefaceof it, everything is fine. Big house in the suburbs, house just bought in France, fabulous child, two cars. But you know, Kim, it’s not me. I feel as though I should be happy, but it’s not me. I don’t live in a house I particularly like. Actually, I hate it. I don’t live in a town I like. Actually, I hate that, too. And I don’t particularly like his parents. His father is okay, but his mother is—well, cold. Shit, I sound ungrateful.’

      Kim—‘No, you’re just being true to yourself.’

      Sarah—‘I sometimes wish Dad were still here. He gave me really good advice. It’s nearly four years since he died. Don’t know if he ever knew I was pregnant with Ben. Tried to tell him in hospital, but don’t think he could understand me. He would have loved his little grandson so much.’

      I’m fighting back tears. I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not about that. Not in public. I’ve got too much else to worry about. Kim senses it and leans over the fish ’n chips to hug me. I think—Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Think of something that will stop you from crying. Someone that makes you anaemic emotionally. I know, Tony Blair. Visualise Tony Blair sitting on the toilet. Great, that’s done the trick. Tears stop immediately.

      Kim tucks into her cod and chips. I don’t have an appetite. I think my stomach has shrunk, so after two mouthfuls I’m full. Then…

      Kim—‘Sarah, I think he’s got someone else. I’ve been thinking. It’s obvious. He wants space suddenly. Clean underpants. Coming back late and drunk. No sex. Bringing up things from the past. Why bring them up now? The things he says—they all say the same things. I’ve heard this all before, with other friends. It’s fucking spooky, really. As though men have all read the same books. You’d think they’d be smarter, but they’re not.’

      I redden. And start to feel very hot. Because deep down I know she’s right, but don’t want to believe it. I don’t think even visualising Tony Blair on the toilet will work this time.

      Sarah—‘Perhaps.’

      Kim—‘Sarah, women run from a relationship they’re unhappy with, but men tend to run to another woman. Men don’t leave—emotionally or literally—until they’ve found someone else to look after them. Someone to lean on. It’s in their nature. They’re weak; they need the support. Paul is like any other. Just out of interest, how much time do you spend with Ben and how much with Paul?’

      Sarah—‘More with Ben, of course.’

      Kim—‘Well, then. Paul’s even further down the pecking order.’

      Sarah—‘That’s