each other, of course we do. That’s when we watch box sets or whatever’s new on Netflix. We’d worked our way through The West Wing, The Wire, The Sopranos, Orange Is the New Black, Boardwalk Empire, Mad Men and many more. We were polite to each other, kind even, but we don’t talk much beyond everyday necessities, not any more, not to each other. Who needs to talk when there’s a new series of House of Cards to watch? Our arrangement had worked, but lately I’d been wondering: was it enough?
I’m having an existential crisis, I thought. My friends, Debs and Lorna would say: Not again, Cait. You had one of those last year, and the year before, but this is different because of a few major things that have happened.
My mum died a year ago.
My oldest and best friend, Eve, died eight months ago.
Lorna’s husband, Alistair, died last year, a few weeks before Eve.
My youngest son, Jed, moved to Thailand.
My eldest son, Sam, moved to LA with his wife and my grandchildren.
All of this has made me very sad and has reminded me that no one knows what’s round the next corner, so I’ve taken the ‘seize the day’ attitude. I’ve been trying to make the most of life by filling my days with things to do, people to see, places to go. If I keep busy, busy, busy, I don’t have to think about loss and I can get by. However, the recent events have made me question many aspects of my life and my relationship.
Is this it?
Should I accept that my marriage has gone stale and carry on as we are?
What could change things?
Do I want to change things?
How would I change things?
Should I get some Wonderbrow paste to dye my grey eyebrows?
As I said, all existential stuff.
With those happy thoughts, I made tea and wondered again what Matt had to tell me. I mentally made a list of possibilities.
An affair?
He was ill?
Someone had died?
I liked a list. Some women of my age are ladies who lunch. I am a lady who lists. It’s just the way my brain works, it makes an inventory of everything; lists always make me feel calmer. Debs said that’s because my star sign is Virgo and they like things to be ordered and in the right place. She also said I had Aquarius rising, which was at odds with the Virgo part and accounted for my slightly eccentric and split personality and tendency to surprise people by doing or saying something out of the blue.
When I was younger, my lists looked like this:
Look for God.
Find a way to change the world for the better and bring about world peace.
Find my soul mate.
Live happily ever after.
Now the lists looked like this:
Check blood pressure.
Buy supplement for arthritis.
Google best anti-wrinkle cream.
Buy over-the-counter sleep remedies.
Cait
After half an hour, I fetched my laptop from the top floor and went into Facebook for my daily fix of animal rescue clips. There was one of a baby orang-utan playing with a monkey. Cute. Orang-utans are my favourite animal. Now … what else had people posted that was essential viewing and part of life’s rich tapestry? I’d just opened footage of a bunch of Yorkshire men singing ‘Mi chip pan’s on fire’, when I heard a groan from the sitting room. I was about to close the page when I noticed a new friend request from a Tom Lewis.
‘Cait, are you back?’ I heard Matt call.
Tom Lewis. The Tom Lewis? It couldn’t be, I thought, as I abandoned the laptop and went through to the sitting room. I used to know someone of that name, but it couldn’t be him, surely? I hadn’t heard from him in over forty years. He had been the love of my life many, many moons ago. No. Couldn’t be him. Probably some random request. I got a number of those from men, mainly in the military, I didn’t know. Everyone on Facebook did. Spam. Couldn’t be my Tom Lewis. Either way, I’d have a proper look later.
Matt opened his eyes, usually conker brown and focused, now red and blurry. ‘Ah, there you are.’ He smiled at me. On the rare occasions that Matt drank too much, he was a nice drunk – affectionate and sleepy, no trouble.
‘So what’s happened?’ I asked.
He looked over at the dictionary. ‘Was looking up words.’
‘Words?’
He reached over, picked up the book and read from a page. ‘Redundant – no longer needed or useful, superfluous. Retirement – to recede or disappear into seclusion. I am sorry, Caitlin.’
Ah. So that was it. ‘Seriously?’ I asked.
He nodded. ‘Seriously as in not funny.’
With that, he lay back, closed his eyes and nodded off again. I noticed that his left sock had a hole in it and his big toe was poking through. He was usually so perfectly turned out in his spotless shirts and well-cut suits for work, and this vulnerability endeared him to me.
I need a drink too, I thought.
I went back into the kitchen and found a bottle of Pinot Grigio in the fridge as the implications hit me. I opened the French doors and went to sit on the bench in the sunshine on the decking outside. I got out my mobile and called Lorna.
‘Matt’s been made redundant.’
‘Shit.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Will he get a pay-off?’
‘Maybe but it won’t be much. He was there as a freelancer though he’d been with the same company for a long time. He’s still out for the count so I don’t know the details yet.’
‘Is it definite?’
‘Think so. Hell, Lorna, how are we going to get by? We don’t have savings, or any cushion money, in fact.’
‘Don’t panic,’ said Lorna. ‘At least you have your job at the surgery.’
‘Only until Margaret Wilson is back from her maternity leave.’
‘What about your
