David was having a new boiler installed, so Jean was sitting with him in the garden of the Fox and Hounds. The idea made her nervous at first, but David was right. The place was empty and they were yards from the car if they needed to slip away.
She was drinking a gin and tonic, which she didn’t normally do on her way home from the school. If George asked questions she could always blame Ursula. She needed some Dutch courage. Her life was an unholy mess at the moment and she had to make it simpler.
She said, “I’m not sure how long we can carry on doing this.”
“You mean you want to stop?” asked David.
“Maybe. Yes.” It sounded so harsh now she was saying it out loud. “Oh, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“What’s changed?”
“George,” she said. “George being ill.” Wasn’t it obvious?
“And that’s all?” asked David.
He seemed untroubled, and she was beginning to find his confidence annoying. How could he sail through all this? “It’s not a small thing, David.”
He took her hand.
She said, “It feels different now. It feels wrong.”
He said, “You haven’t changed. I haven’t changed.”
It exasperated her sometimes. The way men could be so sure of themselves. They put words together like sheds or shelves and you could stand on them they were so solid. And those feelings which overwhelmed you in the small hours turned to smoke.
He said, “I’m not trying to bully you.”
“I know.” But she wasn’t sure about this.
“If you were ill, if you were seriously ill, I would still love you. If I was seriously ill, I hope you’d still love me.” He looked into her eyes. For the first time he looked sad and this put her at ease. “I love you, Jean. It’s not just words. I mean it. I’ll wait if I have to. I’ll put up with things. Because that’s what love means. And I know George is ill. And I know it makes your life difficult. But it’s something we have to live with and sort out. And I don’t know how we’ll do it, but we will.”
She found herself laughing.
“What’s funny?”
“Me,” she said. “You’re absolutely right. And it’s infuriating. But you’re still right.”
He squeezed her hand.
They sat in silence for a few moments. David fished something from his shandy and a large agricultural vehicle rumbled by on the far side of the hedge.
“I feel dreadful,” she said.
“Why?” he asked.
“The wedding.”
He looked relieved.
“I was so thrown by what was happening to George that I…Katie must be having a dreadful time. Planning to get married. Then canceling the wedding. The two of them living together. I should have been sympathetic. But we just argued.”
“You had enough on your plate.”
“I know, but…”
“At the least the wedding’s off,” said David.
It seemed like a callous thing to say. “But it’s so sad.”
“Not as sad as getting married to someone you don’t love,” said David.