53 Beginning

How do these things begin?  Enjoying someone’s company, then seeking out that company; a glance held a little too long, the accidental brushing of arms or hands or knees.  These things happen all the time but you never think, ‘Something’s beginning, here.’, do you?  It begins so quietly, so imperceptibly, that you can find yourself in the middle of it before you really take notice.  And when you do notice, you just think it is about liking, friendship, a meeting of minds.  You do not think about where it might lead because it cannot lead anywhere.  Not when you are both married to other people.  People can just be friends, you know; it does not mean something is going on.

And that is the first handful of pebbles, right there, the ones that will lead to the landslide.  And you did not even realise you had dropped them.

For us, though, the real beginning, the moment I can identify, was the night we went for that drink after work.  It had been a real pig of a day, with anything that could go wrong going very wrong.  But we had pulled it back – not quite to where we had wanted to be, but at least from the edge of the cliff we had been teetering on for most of the day.  The team worked so hard for us that day, a quick drink at the local was the least we could do for them.  We made the offer and they all accepted, even the ones who normally ducked out of social occasions.  It was a time of bonding for all of us.

At the pub, I got the first round.  Everyone was relaxed, chatting, reliving the best and worst moments of the day.  One by one, they drained their glasses, said their goodnights, and headed for home.  And suddenly we were the only ones left.

Tom looked at his empty glass rather than at me.  “One for the road?” he asked.  I could not see his eyes but something in his voice triggered a tiny tremor of excitement in my stomach.  A voice at the back of my brain was screaming at me to get out, right now, but my mouth said, “Why not?”.

It was another of those small steps, one more tiny pebble.  Not the one that actually sends everything hurtling down the slope, knocking you off your feet, but one that makes the landslide slightly more certain.  I almost left while he was at the bar but I told myself it would be rude to walk out on him.  I would just have my drink, then go home.  Alone.  It was not too late, I told myself; the landslide could still be averted.

The voice at the back of my mind snorted in derision.

We stretched those drinks out for nearly an hour.  Every sip brought the moment of leaving a little nearer, so we took our time between them and made them as small as possible.  In the end, it was Tom who finished first.  As he set his empty glass on the table he asked, “So, your place or mine?”, again without actually meeting my eye.

“Oh, mine,” I answered, without thinking.  “Sean’s taken the kids to his mother’s for half... term...”  My voice trailed away as I realised what I was saying.

He looked at me then and my mouth went dry.  This was it, the moment of decision.  The pebble was in my hand; I could set it down just there and trigger the landslide, or I could throw it away and keep us both from disaster.  But he was looking at me that way, the way Sean had not looked at me in so long...

“What about...?” I said, almost in a whisper, putting off the decision a moment or two more.

“Early shift tomorrow, so sleeping in the spare room.  Will be gone before I get up in the morning, so won’t know...”

He said “won’t” not “wouldn’t”.  The decision was somehow made without either of us actually making it, and we were both caught in the rush and noise and chaos of the landslide.

“Mine it is, then,” I said and we left together.