‘Vita?’
‘Yeah – you know. Just wondered, that’s all. You know – how things are. With – the shop? And stuff.’
‘Stuff?’
Suzie didn’t like it when Tim was like this. Unhelpful. Sharp. All she really needed – and surely he could fathom this – was an answer along the lines of, Oh, Vita’s fine, I think – haven’t had to speak to her much at all recently, thank God. But Tim wasn’t saying that. He wasn’t saying much and his tone was flat, guarded. Suzie couldn’t leave it at that, now. She needed more information but also to bring back his focus to the brilliant fun beauty that she spent so much effort hoping he’d see. She walked over to him, slipping her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and giving a squeeze. She took the plates from him and took over loading the dishwasher. He went and sat down at his kitchen table; she glanced over her shoulder hoping to catch his eye. He was reading the paper. Yesterday’s.
Breezy. Be breezy. ‘Because you were saying that it’s been – what did you say – stressy.’
Tim shrugged. ‘Only in terms of the business – it’s not making what we’d forecasted. It’s now practically July.’
‘Only in terms of the business.’ She needed that phrase to be repeated out loud, as if she was quoting his statement of intent. ‘So you’re getting on well outside of that?’
‘I hardly see or speak to her!’ Tim paused, irritated, and looked over to her. ‘You know all this – why do you ask? Nothing’s changed.’
‘I’m just interested.’ Smile. Sweet sweet smile. ‘I care. What I mean is, I care about you and I hope she’s not giving you a hard time or stressing you out. With texts and stuff.’
You’re paranoid, Tim thought to himself. You sound like Vita started to. Just then, to him, it seemed an annoying coincidence that the women he chose seemed to exhibit similar traits.
‘So you don’t speak to her socially then? Much? At all?’
Tim looked at Suzie as if he didn’t quite understand the question. She came and sat at the table, flipped through a magazine. Lingered a while and then started up again, as if momentarily she’d forgotten she was halfway through a conversation because it was so unimportant.
‘She doesn’t – you know – bother you with late-night texts? She leaves you alone now, does she?’
‘Jesus – I’m with you. Why would I socialize with her? If it wasn’t for the business, there’d probably be no contact. Texts bypass the need to talk.’
Suzie nodded slowly as if it was no issue and she understood completely, as if she was only half aware of the conversation because mostly she was engrossed in the magazine. But actually she was on the horoscope page and, as was her habit, she was reading her star sign. And Tim’s. But also Vita’s too. She was drawn to doing so in any magazine or newspaper no matter how trashy; to read and cross-reference the three star signs. Today, Vita’s and Tim’s reports – though different – had a worrying synergy. The astrologer was prophesying that communication could vanquish a difficult period, understanding could deepen and dreams which had seemed impossible could be within reach. A new, rejuvenated period of domestic happiness was forecast. Suzie shuddered. Hers simply said to trust her instincts and be prepared to relinquish foundering projects with dignity.
‘Actually, I’m seeing Vita today,’ Tim said and, though faint, there was a confrontational edge to his voice.
‘At the shop?’
‘Yes. There’s a trade show coming up – we need to discuss logistics.’
‘Why not just call her?’ Suzie eyed his phone, lying on the table just in front of him, as if it was a black box stuffed with secrets and information. ‘Does it need both of you to go? Who’ll look after the shop?’
‘Only one of us need go,’ Tim said, knowing he was going to Edinburgh for a meeting but deciding not to tell Suzie just yet.
‘Cool,’ said Suzie, but she wasn’t cool at all. She felt heated and tetchy, wishing she’d been born in July or November.
Tim was gathering his stuff together.
‘Tonight?’ Suzie said. ‘Shall we do something?’
‘Cool,’ said Tim, kissing her on the forehead in the perfunctory way Suzie had seen a hundred bored husbands kiss their annoying wives.
Suzie thought, I’m always instigating the plans. And then she thought, it seems to mostly be me initiating sex too, these days.
It was hard work, all of this and she was tired. She didn’t feel quite so effortlessly sassy these days. She had to turn it on. She did really, really want Tim to really, really want her, though. She’d set herself the challenge of being the one he desired more than any other he’d had. Especially Vita. Especially annoying old Vita. For Suzie, Vita actually stirred up more emotions in her than Tim and frequently she swung from triumph to insecurity, superiority to jealousy, from loathing to fear. She thought about her a lot and tried to be better at the things she knew Vita did well while trying not to do the things she knew had pissed Tim off about her. It was a constant guessing game and sneaking a look at texts and call logs assisted her. She’d spent much time analysing the photos in the box under Tim’s bed and many evenings with friends – on the phone, out in a bar – evaluating and dissecting Tim’s relationship with Vita and now hers with Tim. He’s with you, hon, not her, they all said. But he was with Vita for years and he loved her enough to want to marry her! she’d counter. If he loved her that much, why aren’t they still together? they’d bat back.
He’s. With. Me.
She had to keep remembering that. But sometimes it just didn’t feel that way. At those times it was easier for her to hate Vita rather than doubt Tim.
Vita was in deep discussion with a customer about the merits of the cream enamelware pitcher and tray, as opposed to the same items in white edged in blue.
‘The cream is more contemporary, modern Shaker you could say – perfect for the Farrow and Ball type interior,’ she was saying when Tim walked in. ‘Anyway, they’re the same price – whichever you choose.’
‘It’s for an American friend of mine.’
‘Oh,’ said Vita, as if solving a riddle, ‘well then, I’d definitely go for the white – it’s more traditional. More Englishy cottagey oldie worldie.’ Tim smiled. It was a very Vita thing to say. It was also a good sales tactic. The white set was bought. The customer looked thoughtful and all it took was a collusory prompt, sotto voce, from Vita.
‘You love the cream set,’ she said. ‘Why not treat yourself?’
The customer glanced back at it.
‘I’ll knock a little off, if you have both.’
‘Really?’
‘Five pounds.’
The customer paused and then grinned guiltily. ‘Go on then.’ And while Vita was wrapping and packing, the lady handed over four packets of quirky paper napkins that were displayed
