Page 56 of One Last Thing
‘Lord knows. That man was on a lot of medication.’
‘I quite like his way of thinking. Force the two of you together so you can finally work things out. Or finally explode. Both outcomes are healthier than how it stands.’
‘I don’t think she feels the need for us to work anything out. She’s got everything sorted.’ I pick a piece of fluff off my dress. ‘She doesn’t need a chaotic mess like me.’
‘Everyone needs you, Dawn. This is a difficult time for her.’
‘I know, I know. It’s this place. Sometimes it makes me forget the sadness of it all.’
‘Maybe that’s what Henry wanted,’ she points out. ‘That’s why he sent you there instead of asking you to take him on a final hurrah to places like Stonehenge and Big Ben.’
I laugh, feeling a sudden overwhelming surge of homesickness but one that revolves around Jemma. I wish I were with her or she were here, no matter where we were.
‘I’m probably making this whole process harder for Megan,’ I wonder aloud, heaving a sigh. ‘I’m trying to help where I can, but I don’t think she wants it and fair enough. I’m not sure she registers anything I’m saying.’
‘She registers everything, Dawn; you’re her mum,’ Jemma tells me flatly.
‘Hm.’ I inhale deeply through my nose. ‘Anyway, how are you? How’s Iris?’
‘I’m fine. Sort of.’ She clears her throat. ‘Iris is . . . taking a break.’
‘From work?’ I say with surprise.
‘From me, actually.’
I sit up straight. ‘Jemma, what do you mean? Are you all right?’
‘Do you remember when we all had lunch together and you noticed that Iris was stressed? You made a joke about her getting weighed down by all the redecorating she was doing,’ she says, doing her best to keep the sadness out of her voice but I can hear the wobble. ‘You’re very observant, you just got the wrong problem. It wasn’t the house, it was us. Well, it was me. She got fed up. We think a separation period is necessary.’
‘Oh, Jemma!’
‘Don’t do that voice, Dawn, I’m fine. Really. I’ve kept myself busy. Work has been chaotic enough to distract me. You know summer is the busiest time for the business, so many events, both corporate and luxury. I haven’t had much time to get upset, I’ve been too busy discussing visions, booking bands and arguing with my employeesover which bespoke biscuits to order. I would tell you if I was falling apart.’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’
‘No, but you would know.’
I exhale, almost wanting to cry at the injustice of my brilliant, decent friend ever having to suffer anything. I feel winded by this news. Jemma and Iris have been together so long, I thought that they were indestructible. Sure, they have their spats like any couple, but they’re so respectful of one another, so kind and understanding. I looked up to them and their marriage. I had no idea –no idea– that this might happen. Jemma says I’m observant, but how could I have missed this? What a front they’ve put on. What a performance. I didn’t see any strain or misery, only content normality. My god, I really don’t know anything.
‘Do the kids know?’ I ask.
‘Yes, I’ve told them. Only them. And now you. They’ve been great about it.’ I hear the wobble again. ‘Supportive, understanding. Upset, obviously, but you know. They’ve visited to check in on me. And I know they’ve been to see her, too. Look, it’s not a divorce, it’s a separation. We’re not giving up yet. I’m certainly not. It was her idea, but I don’t think she’s given up completely either. We’ll work on it.’
‘Did Iris tell you her reasons for wanting the separation?’ I ask cautiously, not wanting to step too far but also desperate for details so I can get my own head round it.
‘The usual complaint amplified. I work too much. I don’t prioritise her. And us.’ She pauses, before adding quietly, ‘Of course, my natural reaction to that is to work harder.’
‘Do you want me to come home? I can book a flight.’
‘No, I do not,’ she says crossly. ‘You are there for Henry and for Megan, don’t you dare break your promises tothem. And besides, I wouldn’t have time to see you anyway. When you’re home, you can come over and do your best to convince me I’m not a pathetic failure, but until then, I promise you,I am fine. I’ve got the dogs. They keep me going.’
‘If you need me, you’ll say.’
‘Yes.’
‘No, you won’t.’
‘Probably not.’ She chuckles. ‘But I will phone to hear your voice if I’m in a real mess, that I will do.’ She groans loudly. ‘God, look at us, Dawn. I thought by now we’d have everything worked out, didn’t you?’
