“I drove past your house a couple of times, just in the hope of seeing you at the window.”
“I was going to be so strong and dignified, but I’ve been a wreck.”
“All this unhappiness for nothing.” He kissed her lips, four, five, six times, until she pulled away, laughing.
“Did you speak to Gretchen?”
“Yes, we talked for a long time. I feel for her, but it’s nonsense to think we can ‘patch things up’ as if a marriage is just a torn pair of trousers. I couldn’t touch her and she couldn’t touch me.”
“What about Margaret?”
“Even if there were a hundred Margarets, it would never work.”
“It used to work well enough until Gretchen left.”
She wished she could stop arguing against her own interests, but she couldn’t be sure until she had heard her case demolished, point by point.
“Yes, and if she hadn’t, I would never have left her. I would have kept my feelings for you in a sealed box and so would you. But she did, and that released me, and now that I’ve experienced real love—passion—with you, I can’t go back. Do you see the difference?”
“I think so.”
They dared to loosen their grip so they could look at each other. One advantage of being the same height was that their eyes were always level.
“I know that sex isn’t everything, but it isn’t nothing, either. It’s a part of married love, perhaps the biggest part. And the idea that Gretchen can suddenly bury her feelings of revulsion, and that I could possibly make love to her again, knowing how she really feels, is complete madness.”
“Did you explain this to her?”
“Yes, of course. I think I got through to her in the end.”
“And what will she do? Will she stay with Martha?”
“I think so. She has to have someone.”
“Did you tell her about me—us?”
“No. I didn’t know whether there was an ‘us.’” He took off his woolen scarf and wound it around her neck, not needing to be told that without one she must be cold. “And I’ve agonized over Margaret, I promise you, but the damage, if that’s what you’d call it, has already been done. Of course she’d be delighted if Gretchen came back and we all lived together again the way we used to. And imagine how much worse it would then be if a few months on it all fell apart again—as it surely would.”
“I thought my life was over.”
“I know. Everything you felt, I felt, too.”
Happiness flowed and was smooth, but reality had rough surfaces and sharp corners.
“How will we ever manage to be together?”
“With patience and determination. Gretchen will have to be told. And Margaret. And your mother. It will be a bumpy ride, Jean.”
“Yes.”
She quailed at the thought of the turbulence ahead, but he had resolution enough for both of them. The alternative, already sampled, was unendurable. There could be no secrets. Except for that one unsayable thing, which she would keep to herself forever. Let them believe in innocence and miracles and angel voices; it would be her gift to them all.
“I can’t leave Mother. You know I can’t.”
“I know. And I can’t leave Margaret. So for the time being we may not be able to be together much. But we can still love each other, and if I can only see you once a week, I’d rather that than not at all.”
“Perhaps if I introduced you to Mother it would be easier for her to understand that you’re no threat to her.”
With Jean alone she would certainly be difficult, but Howard’s presence would be sure to disarm her. She had always taken more notice of men, considering them the superior sex.
“I’d like that. When?”
“Tonight. Now?”
Having accepted that it must be done, Jean wanted it over quickly, while she was still powered by euphoria.
“I have to get back for Margaret.”
“Of course.”
“Tomorrow, though, she’s going to the panto with Lizzie, so the evening is my own.” He sounded hopeful.
“You could come to dinner? Mother doesn’t come downstairs anyway. She eats on a tray in her room, so once I’ve introduced you and we’ve had a chat, we can escape and be by ourselves.”
It sounded so simple put that way. In reality, however well behaved her mother was in Howard’s presence, recriminations would surely follow when the two of them were alone. To prevail, Jean would have to be resolute, obstinate even. Somehow the knowledge that he was out there, emphatically and eternally on her side, shoring her up, gave her strength. Once her mother realized she held no cards, Jean could be generous.