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He stood at the window as she straightened again and looked up, lifting a hand when she saw him watching her. No smile, just acknowledgement. Then she mouthed, ‘Put the kettle on.’
He nodded and turned away.
As he did so, a voice inside said, Break the contract! Offer her a divorce.
That is madness, he replied to the voice.
You hate this life. Force a change.
No. She’ll never let me go.
Oh, she will. Once she realises that you know about Gordon Stapleton.
And then what?
Then do what you know you want to do.
He was in the kitchen now, the pilot light on the stovetop responding with a rushing pop as the lit match ignited the gas. He checked the kettle had plenty of water and put it onto the ring, setting the inevitable afternoon pot of tea into motion.
Delia bustled in through the back door, pulling off her gardening gloves and then lifting away the large hat she wore come rain or shine, whenever she was working outside. ‘Phew, it’s warm out there,’ she said. ‘Lovely, actually, but I had no idea how hot I was.’
‘Kettle’s on,’ he said, unnecessarily over the noise of the water coming up to a simmer.
‘I’ll just wash my hands,’ she said, and disappeared into the boot room to clean up.
She was back soon enough, rubbing what looked to be hand cream into her fingers. ‘Mmm, I do like this new stuff they call gardener’s balm. Here, smell.’
He didn’t want to, but her hand was already thrust towards his face, her gold wedding ring glinting like an accusation.
‘Lemony,’ he remarked, hating himself, boring himself.
‘Amongst other lovely things, I’m sure.’
Peter switched off the kettle just as it began to gather its steam to whistle; it reminded him of the air-raid sirens. They sounded just as traumatising in England when he’d come home as they had in Malta.
Malta… his time there felt like a lifetime ago. It probably should have brought back frightening memories, and yet he couldn’t remember a happier time.
‘Where are you, Peter?’ Delia was asking.
‘Pardon?’
‘I was just saying I think the apple blossom is arriving early this year – it’s going to smell divine out there in a couple of weeks. And the most gorgeous lily of the valley is beginning to leaf.’
He smiled. Bored again. ‘Yes, I’ll take note before I leave.’ He quickly warmed the pot and then added three scoops of leaves to steep in the newly boiled water. He twisted the pot three times out of habit and plonked on the cosy.
‘Leave? Are you going somewhere?’
‘I thought I might—’
‘Oh, not London again, please.’
‘It’s where I work,’ he said, helplessly defensive. He hadn’t been going to say London at all, just a walk to get some fresh air, but now he felt peeved and stood his ground. ‘I thought I might go tonight.’ Anything to be away from this mind-numbing life, especially now that he’d made his decision. Just thinking about it made him feel more alive than he had in years.
‘But tomorrow we’re having the penultimate fair meeting, here at home.’
‘You don’t need me for that,’ he said.
‘Well, I rather thought you could be around, Peter,’ she said, frowning. ‘The ladies fawn all over you anyway.’ This time she said it as an accusation, rather than a mark of pride.
