made Mike smile, as she’d hoped it would. He’d always been a sucker for flattery. Feeling the tension dissipate, she allowed herself to sit back in her chair and enjoy a sip of her gin and tonic, trying to heed her own advice.
Things were all right for a while. Although it was still obvious to Lisa that Mike was drunk, he managed to behave himself throughout the starter and main course. This was partly down to her efforts to keep the conversation light and chatty, avoiding danger topics and even engaging in some light flirting with him. She did her best to appear relaxed and happy, although in truth she felt like a firefighter tackling a smouldering blaze near a petrol station. She went with his suggestion to get a bottle of red wine to accompany the steaks they’d both ordered, but drank more than she usually would in a bid to reduce his intake. This backfired when, without warning, he grabbed a passing waiter and ordered a second bottle.
Feeling tipsy now, Lisa couldn’t stop herself from intervening. ‘Wait a minute,’ she said, grabbing the waiter’s arm before he had a chance to leave and then looking at her husband. ‘Is that really necessary, love? Don’t you think we’ve had enough?’
The look Mike gave her in return was thunderous. ‘Ignore my wife, please,’ he said with feigned calmness, his eyes locked on to her face, daring her to contradict him again.
The waiter, not much older than his female co-worker and probably also a student, shuffled awkwardly on the spot, looking from one to the other. ‘Um. What, er—’
‘I said to bring me another bottle of red,’ Mike snapped, raising his voice loud enough so that several nearby diners turned to look.
‘Yes, of course, sir. Right away.’ He shot towards the bar without looking at Lisa again and her heart sank.
Mike thumped his right fist into the top of the small dining table, causing a loud clattering sound that drew yet more inquisitive glances. ‘What the hell was that?’ he growled. ‘Are you trying to make me look like an idiot?’
‘You do that all by yourself when you thump tables and raise your voice in public, Mike. Excuse me for daring to question whether we need another bottle of wine or not.’
Lisa realised at this moment, mortified by her husband’s behaviour, that she barely recognised him as the man she’d married sixteen years earlier. Physically he hadn’t changed that much. He still had the same broad shoulders, brown eyes, olive skin and thick stubble she’d fallen in love with when they’d met as trainee teachers. Even his short black hair wasn’t that different, despite receding a little and gaining some flecks of grey. No, these changes were on the inside, which was worse. The very public collapse of Mike’s career had mentally scarred him in all kinds of ways – and Lisa feared that the funny, kind, driven man she’d once adored may have disappeared for good.
‘If I want another bottle, I’ll have one,’ he slurred.
‘Don’t you think that maybe you’ve had enough?’
‘Oh, here we go. I was waiting for this.’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but I could tell you were pretty plastered when we arrived – and now you’re embarrassing me. How much did—’
‘I’m the embarrassing one?’ he replied. ‘That’s rich coming from you. I go to the effort of organising this, and how do you repay me? By making me look stupid in public. Thanks very much. You’ve ruined everything now. Bloody typical.’
Lisa shook her head. ‘I think you’ll find—’
She was interrupted by the return of the waiter, who avoided looking at her as he delivered Mike’s wine and unscrewed the cap. ‘Here you are, sir. Would you like to try it first?’
Mike shook his head and gestured for him to fill his glass. After he’d done so, the waiter’s eyes fell on Lisa’s glass; he hesitated before looking in her direction. ‘Madam, would you, um, like me to—’
‘No, thank you. My husband will be drinking the bottle alone.’
Lisa regretted saying this almost straight away – not because of how it made Mike look, but because it further embarrassed the waiter, who was just a young guy doing his job. He nodded awkwardly before leaving the bottle in the middle of the table, clearing away the unwanted remains of their main course, and scuttling off, leaving the pair of them scowling at each other.
Mike was seething. That much was obvious. But so was Lisa – and she’d not been the one to start the row. Usually she did her utmost to avoid such confrontations, but buoyed by the alcohol and a sense of injustice, she had no intention of backing down on this occasion.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad we came out to celebrate our anniversary like this. How lovely.’
Her husband’s reply was to empty his glass in one go before pouring himself another. ‘Happy?’ he asked her.
‘Ecstatic,’ she replied, standing up and removing her handbag from the seatback.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Toilet. Is that okay with you?’ Then before Mike had a chance to react, Lisa grabbed his glass and threw the wine in his face. Leaving behind the sound of his spluttering and shouting, she sprinted for the exit, retrieving her jacket from the coat stand on the way and instructing the bemused receptionist that her husband would settle the bill.
The first thing she did after hitting the pavement was laugh. She howled like a maniac as she made her way to the nearest taxi rank, no longer minding that people were staring. She couldn’t believe what she’d done, but she knew where it had come from. That was repressed frustration bursting out. Lisa knew the tiptoeing around her husband couldn’t last forever. She’d desperately tried to give him enough space to lick his wounds. But there was only so much time she could wait for him to pick himself back up. For too long there had been a tightness in her chest; a knot in her stomach. She’d squashed down her feelings, like a coiled spring; it felt great to release them at last.
However, her elation began to fade in the taxi home to Aldham, giving way to the realisation that she and Mike had major issues to iron out. She didn’t exactly feel guilty about throwing the wine, still believing her husband had driven her to it. But she was ashamed at how they’d behaved in public. She imagined how mortifying it would be if someone they knew had witnessed it.
‘Late night at the office?’ the driver asked her as they sped through the city streets.
Charming, she thought, wondering who would go to work in heels and a cocktail dress.
‘I’m a primary school teacher, so no,’ she snapped, pulling her mobile out of her bag to avoid further conversation. Luckily, he got the hint and turned on the radio.
It was 8.42 p.m. and still broad daylight, emphasising how strange it felt to be heading home so soon. At least she knew she’d have the house to herself when she got back. Until Mike followed her, of course, although she hoped that wouldn’t be for some time.
Lisa looked down again at her phone and noticed she was gripping it so tightly that her fingertips had gone white. Mike hadn’t contacted her so far. Her guess was that, despite the soaking she’d given him and the inevitable red wine stains on his clothes, he’d stay out drinking by himself, drowning his sorrows and telling his sob story to anyone who’d listen. She didn’t want to think about the row
