‘That’s not fair,’ I said, even though it was.
‘Isn’t it? You haven’t had a decent pay rise from Battersea for years, but you still stay.’
‘Because I love working there.’
‘No, because you’re too scared to even consider working somewhere else.’
‘We don’t all want to rule the world, some of us just want to make it a better place.’
The thought of you not being proud of me was utterly devastating hurt. A lot. I know you think I could be doing more with my life, but it isn’t all my fault. When the person you love has too many bright ideas, they can completely eclipse yours. And I still do. Love you. I spent my ambition on your dreams instead of my own.
You slept in the spare room that night, but we’ve made up since. Just in time for this year’s anniversary.
You were awake before me this morning, which is practically unheard of, and unexpected given how late you were up rewriting a ten-year-old screenplay again last night. When you carried a tray of breakfast into our bedroom, I thought I must be dreaming. In all the years we have been together, you’ve never done that before. So I should have known something was wrong.
We ate dippy eggs, as I like to call them – soft-boiled is your preferred grown-up term – with toast soldiers. I was looking forward to spending the day together, so I couldn’t understand why you were up so early, or why you seemed to be so keen to take the dirty cups and plates back downstairs.
‘We don’t need to rush, do we?’ I asked.
Your face confessed before you did. ‘I’m so sorry, I need to go and see my agent. It really won’t take long—’
‘But we agreed to spend the whole day together this year. I took annual leave.’
‘And we will, it’s just for a couple of hours. I really think Rock Paper Scissors might actually get made this time. I just want to talk to him, in person – you know it’s the only way I can tell what he really thinks about anything – while the project has momentum again. See if he agrees about the next steps and…’
I know you couldn’t see whatever face I pulled, but you must have read my body language.
‘… I know it’s our anniversary but I promise I’ll make it up to you tonight.’
‘We’ll still have dinner?’ I said.
‘It will be drinks o’clock by 5 p.m. at the latest. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done, and I got you this.’
It was a ticket for a matinee performance of a show I have wanted to see for months. It’s been sold out since it opened. The ticket was for today, so at least I’d have something fun to do while you were working. But it also meant that you knew I would need something to do. Alone. There was only one ticket. I gave you your anniversary present then. Five years is meant to be a wooden gift so I got you a ruler with an inscription:
Five years married, who wood believe it?
You smiled, held up two ties and asked me to choose one. I loathe them both, to be honest, but pointed at the one with the birds. It seemed strange even at the time, given that you never normally dress up to see your agent.
‘It’s not for me, it’s for you,’ you said, reading my mind.
You wrapped the silk tie around my face to cover my eyes. Then you took me by the hand and led me downstairs.
‘I can’t go outside in my nightie!’ I whispered, when I heard you open the front door.
‘Sure you can, you still look just as beautiful as the day we got married, and besides, it’s the only way to show you your real anniversary present.’
‘I thought it was the theatre ticket,’ I said.
‘Give me some credit.’
‘Can’t, sorry. You’re already in too much debt.’
‘This year’s gift is meant to be made of wood, right?’
I took a few more uncertain steps, the cold path biting my bare feet, until they reached the grass. We stopped and you removed my makeshift blindfold.
There was a leafless and ugly little tree in the middle of what used to be my perfect lawn.
‘It’s a tree,’ you said.
‘I can see that.’
‘I know you’ve always wanted a magnolia so—’
‘Is that what it is?’ You looked hurt. ‘I’m sorry, it’s really sweet of you. I love it. I mean, not right now maybe, but when the flowers come out, I bet it will look amazing.’ You looked happy again. ‘Thank you, it’s the perfect gift. Now go and get your screenplay made into a Hollywood blockbuster, so Bob and I can walk down a red carpet in Leicester Square.’