number. She headed for courtroom number three, making her way towards the waiting area.
The waiting annexe was sombre, dull and outdated, depressing. Gone was the imposing decor of the entrance foyer, the marble floor and chandeliers giving way to stained carpets, fake wood wall-panelling and a mismatched collection of chairs, some plastic, some scratched timber and some with faded upholstery. She wasn’t inclined to sit down.
Juliet knew she was being ridiculous with her silent criticism; the dull room was perfectly suited to her mood, but she wasn’t used to feeling depressed and she wanted the room to lift her spirits, not contribute to the feeling of finality. She wanted the room to instil in her a sense that she was doing the right thing but all it was doing was making her feel worse. It exacerbated her loneliness and increased her sorrow.
But there was no turning back, despite her sister’s parting words as she’d dropped her off at the courthouse earlier. Juliet had come this far and she wasn’t changing her mind now. There had been times where she could have backed down, where she could have stopped this day from coming, but not now. Not any more. The decision had been made.
Juliet had always been stubborn and that hadn’t changed. She sighed and chose a seat on the right-hand side of the room. While she sat waiting for her case number to be called she looked at the other people scattered around the room. Mostly they looked tired and worn out and their demeanour did nothing for her mood either. All of them were in everyday clothing, none of them had bothered to smarten up their attire, and the contrast between their outfits and hers flattened her confidence a little.
The weak winter sunlight struggled to penetrate the grimy windows, the glass surfaces were smeared with dirt, too high up to be easily cleaned and it looked as though no one had bothered for years. Juliet was watching the floating dust motes as they wafted through the sporadic beams of light, pushed about by the invisible breaths of air as people moved about the room. A large gust of air disturbed the dust as someone pushed open the door and the movement drew Juliet’s attention. A stray shaft of sunlight illuminated a man as he entered the room, tall, smartly dressed and familiar.
It was Sam.
The love of her life. Her husband.
Soon to be her ex-husband.
But circumstances weren’t enough to stop the tingle that surged through her every time she saw him. In her eyes he still looked as good as the day she’d met him.
He paused just inside the doorway and Juliet took a moment to admire him, knowing she didn’t have long before he would find her in the small room. He was wearing his white naval officer’s uniform, the crisp, clean colour even more eye-catching against the dirty, dull tones of the room. But, then, she’d always been a sucker for Sam in his dress uniform.
He was tanned from his time spent on the ocean and in the sun, his olive skin contrasting with the white fabric of his clothing. His thick blond hair was slightly longer than usual, long enough to be showing a little of its natural curl as it brushed the nape of his neck.
His eyes scanned the room and settled on her. He moved towards her, smiling his crooked smile. She’d never been able to resist his smile. It started on the right side of his mouth, that corner always lifted first, before the smile spread across his lips, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth, until it reached the left corner, by which time Juliet always found she was smiling too. Even now his smile was working, lifting the sombre mood, lifting her spirits, if only temporarily.
In a few steps Sam had reached her side. He sat beside her on an upright wooden chair and leant across to kiss her cheek.
‘How are you?’ he asked. His voice sounded calm and controlled, completely the opposite to how she felt. She was apprehensive and nervous, plus she’d been unable to sleep soundly for several nights and now she was exhausted. But she told him none of this.
‘Good,’ was her reply. And you?’ She sounded so polite, almost as though she was talking to a stranger, not to someone who had shared her bed for a third of her life.
Up close she could see that Sam had a few more wrinkles at the corners of his green eyes and a few strands of grey in his blond hair. Neither detracted from his looks. He was still a handsome man and Juliet imagined he would always be. He would age well, she thought. She wondered how they looked to the other people in the room. What did they think she and Sam were there for? Would anyone guess they were about to get divorced? Would anyone else care?
‘How long until it’s our turn?’ His voice interrupted her thoughts. If he had any trace of concern he was hiding it well, sounding relaxed and completely unfazed by the situation. She could imagine him in a crisis on board a naval vessel, directing sailors, getting people to do what he wanted without having to yell. Nothing much ever seemed to rattle him and it looked as though today was no exception.
‘I’m not sure,’ she answered. ‘I think there are still a couple of cases before us.’
She felt Sam’s arm brush against hers and the contact made her look down. He was pinching the crease in his trouser leg, a crease she could see was ironed to within a fraction of perfection. Juliet could see the outline of the muscles in Sam’s thigh straining against the fabric. His leg was too close to hers, making her feel an unfamiliar sense of unease. He was too close. She wished he’d left a seat between them, kept some distance, then maybe she would have been able to calm her nerves.
Sam looked fit, healthy and full of life. A huge contrast to the rest of the crowd and probably a huge contrast to her. She felt tired, a feeling she was getting used to and had attributed to life as a single mother. Sam, on the other hand, looked as energetic as the day they’d met. Thirteen years ago.
She kept her gaze focussed on her lap. She didn’t want to look at Sam, couldn’t face seeing him there. All it did was remind her of everything she was losing.
How had they come to this?
Her sister Maggie had suggested that she could still stop this process but Juliet felt they’d tried everything they could and still they were in front of the magistrate. She’d tried, they both had, but in the end they’d run out of options. A marriage couldn’t work without compromise.
Her hands were shaking. She grabbed her handbag from the chair beside her, pulling it onto her lap, holding it firmly in an attempt to stop the shaking. Her engagement ring caught the light, shooting sparks over the floor in front of her, small bright spots glistening in the dirt. She hadn’t removed her rings as in her mind she was still married. For a little longer anyway. She sneaked a sideways glance at Sam’s hands. He still wore his wedding ring too.
‘How are the kids?’ Despite Juliet’s less than enthusiastic responses, Sam continued to attempt to make conversation and Juliet thought she’d better make an effort to hold up her end.
‘Fine,’ she answered honestly. ‘They’re doing fine.’ It was true too, but, then, they were used to their father being absent for long periods of time. Even when he had lived with them he could spend months at sea. They thought it was normal.
Juliet hadn’t wanted it to be their normal circumstances. She’d wanted them to have a father who was around. She and Sam had planned for that to happen but their efforts had failed. She’d failed. And now the kids would have a father who was more absent than ever. She wondered if they’d forgive her when they were older and realised what they’d missed out on.
Would they forgive Sam for putting the navy first or would they blame her for not compromising?
Would
