“I hear you, mate,” says Adrian gloomily, then lapses into silence, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring out at the waves. Finn shoots me a look which clearly says, What now? so I draw breath.
“I love Royal Doulton,” I venture brightly. “China. All that. I like … um … displaying it.”
Do I dare add on shelves?
No.
Adrian has tensed up, but he hasn’t looked at me or even replied.
OK, the subtle approach isn’t working. Time to be direct.
“Forgive me, Adrian.” I wait until he looks round, his gaze suspicious. “I’m really sorry to do this, but can I ask you a question? I’m not selling anything,” I add hastily.
“What question?” Adrian’s brow lowers ferociously.
“Well … I was talking to your wife last night.”
“Huh,” says Adrian at once. “Bitching about me, was she?”
“No!” I say, swiftly deciding that what Hayley said was not bitching, it was a valid expression of sadness. “Not at all! But she’s just so hurt, and I think … you know, as an onlooker … if you could explain why you never built those shelves—”
“Not the bloody shelves!” erupts Adrian, and I clap a hand over my mouth. Oops. “She goes on and on …”
“So tell her,” suggests Finn. “Tell her you’re not a shelf-builder, and she’ll have to take it or leave it.”
“I am a shelf-builder!” Adrian roars. “I’m a bloody excellent—” He breaks off, shaking, and I glance at Finn, unnerved. I never knew shelves could be such an emotional subject. For a few moments, no one says anything. I don’t even dare move, in case Adrian lashes out at me.
“You want to know the truth?” he mutters at last, staring down at the foaming water. “Truth is, I didn’t know what she meant. She kept saying she wanted to show off each plate to its best advantage. Fourteen plates. Somehow I got the wrong idea stuck in my head. I was thinking, fourteen shelves—how do I make that look good? But I didn’t want to say I couldn’t do it. So I stalled. I thought maybe she’d forget.”
“Forget?” I say incredulously. “Forget displaying her grandmother’s antique plates?”
“Or change her mind,” says Adrian defensively. “Whatever. But she didn’t. Then some bloke she hired came and did it in one morning, three shelves, boom, and I thought … oh, shit. That’s what she meant.”
I have a vision of him sitting at a kitchen table with a beer, ignoring Hayley’s new shelves, and feel a swell of frustration.
“Did you think of saying that to her?” I blurt out.
“Saying what?”
“ ‘Oh, wow, great shelves. I feel bad now—I didn’t understand exactly what you meant.’ ”
Adrian’s face closes up sulkily. “I would’ve looked like a total numpty.”
“So you’d rather she thinks you’re a horrible, uncaring husband than look like a numpty?”
“It was too late, anyway.” Adrian looks still more sulky. “They were built, weren’t they?”
“It’s never too late,” puts in Finn, and I look at him appreciatively. I don’t know why Adrian and Hayley have got under my skin so much, but I want to help them. Or at least try.
“It’s never too late,” I say robustly, echoing Finn, and Adrian shoots me a resentful glance.
“Are you a pair of bloody counselors?”
“No.” Finn meets my eyes, looking amused. “Very much not.”
At that moment, Hayley’s figure comes into my line of sight. She’s walking down the beach, wearing a navy anorak, about twenty meters away. I lift a hand, wondering what she makes of the sight of Finn and me talking to her husband. Then I glance at Adrian—and that familiar, grumpy attitude has already come over him.
“Are you telling me you’d rather Hayley leaves you than confess one embarrassing misunderstanding?” I say, a bit impatiently. “Really?”
“She won’t leave me,” says Adrian, as though this idea is ludicrous.
“But in the lobby she said, ‘We don’t know if we’re still a couple,’ ” I point out.
“She says stuff like that.” Adrian brushes it off. “She just likes having a go. Wanted a mini-break, needed to find a reason. I’ll get her a present. She’ll calm down.”
Oh my God. Is he dense or in denial or both? For a few moments I agonize about breaking Hayley’s confidence. But then, did she say, This is in strict confidence? No. She didn’t know anything about me and she was blabbing her whole life story.
“Adrian,” I say gently, “she’s phoning her friends for numbers of divorce lawyers.”
The effect on Adrian is staggering. He goes pale. He looks at Finn then back to me. His prickly air has disappeared.
“Divorce lawyers?” he stammers at last.
“Look,” says Finn. “For what it’s worth, here’s my advice. You fix this right now. You go over there.” He points at Hayley, who is now standing at the water’s edge, some distance from us. “You say, ‘I’m so sorry I never did the shelves. I didn’t understand what you meant, and I was too embarrassed to admit it. My bad. I want to make this work. I care about you so much.’ ”
“So deeply,” I suggest.
“Yes.” Finn nods. “Better. Deeply. I’ll go to counseling if you like, but …” He pauses to think. “Now could we walk along the waves while I tell you why I fell in love with you in the first place?”
I stare at Finn, transfixed. His voice is ringing through my soul. I want him to say more. I want him to speak like that to me. I want to pull him down onto the sand and watch the sun dipping below the horizon while he talks to me like that forever.
“You have to be bloody joking.” Adrian’s mutinous voice pulls me out of my reverie. “I’m not saying that.”
“Why not?” Finn retorts.
“Exactly!” I force myself to join in the conversation. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Practice it,” instructs Finn.
“You’re a pair of nutters,” says Adrian—but after a moment, he takes a deep breath. “Sorry I never did the shelves,” he mutters, looking at Hayley’s distant figure. “I didn’t understand what you meant, and I was too embarrassed to admit it.” He pauses, and I see something shift in his face. “My bad. I want to make this work. I care about you so much.” Again he pauses, for longer this time. There’s a kind of agitation in his face. A silent maelstrom. He swallows hard a few times, his eyes locked on Hayley’s unwitting back. “Can we walk along the beach?” he continues, his voice suddenly husky. “Can I tell you why I love you? Because I always have. Since we were eighteen years old and you crashed my bloody car in Morrison’s car park. Ever since then—” He breaks off, breathing hard, and I glance at Finn, my eyes hot.
“Go,” says Finn. “Go.”
Without pausing, Adrian heads across the sand to Hayley, his shoulders set and determined. I watch, breathless, as she turns her head, her body language wretched and defensive. I see her face jolt as he starts speaking. Her eyes widen. Then I turn away, because they should have privacy right now. All my fingers are crossed. Maybe that’ll help things along.