Chapter 4

There was little interest in the house despite a couple of visits in the first month. Robin held out against the agent's advice to drop the asking price. He had become used to living there on his own and was prepared to take his time to get the price he wanted.

Robin and Bea generally spoke on the telephone once a week. Six weeks after they separated they had dinner together. It was fun. Neither had an agenda and it was in many ways like an evening during the early days of their marriage. Bea stayed the night and they both enjoyed that but it unsettled them again.

Robin rang her the following evening.

"Hi, Bea. I enjoyed yesterday evening and last night. Did you?"

"Yes, Rob dear. Very much but I'm not sure it was a very good idea."

"Same here."

"I loved being with you in more ways than one but it's unsettled me."

"Me too."

"Rob dear, as I said, I still love you in many, many ways but we can't live together. It pulls us both down."

"Yes. I'd still like to see you from time to time but not here and, lovely as it was, I don't think we should sleep together again."

"I agree even though it hurts a bit."

"Yes, Bea, but the last two times we made love, the night before you left and last night, were different from what we'd had over the last umpteen months. I don't think we should get carried away by them."

"No, Rob, nor do I. I hate to say it but I think even occasional get togethers might grow stale."

"That was rather what I thought."

"I'd still like to see you from time to time."

"So would I. Look after yourself, Bea."

He put the telephone down. Their time together and this call had upset him. He still had strong feelings for her but knew that a return to living together would be no good.

Bea had a quiet cry but knew she had made the right decision in the first place and that this was a sad but inevitable consequence.

Henry Irvine, his best man at their wedding, rang one evening. "What's this I hear about you and Bea splitting?" he asked.

"True," said Robin.

"Why?"

Robin told him.

"That's sad, Robin, but not entirely unexpected. Much as we like Bea, Matty and I always thought you could have done better for yourself. I'm surprised that it was she who made the running."

"So was I. I hadn't got the guts."

"Too decent, that's your problem. Anyway you must come and spend a weekend with us."

"I'd love to."

"What about the one after next?"

"Fine."

Robin decided to go down to Gloucestershire by train. Parking in London on Friday and Monday would be expensive and he did not relish the thought of rush hour traffic on the Friday evening let alone again on Monday morning. Henry met him at the station and drove him to their house near Tarlton. Robin had been there many times and loved it. It was built of beautiful, mellow Cotswold stone, two hundred and fifty years old and the rooms all had high ceilings. Henry was a successful barrister with chambers at Swindon. The house had been his parents' but his father had died young and his mother did not want to stay there so Henry had moved in. His mother had a cottage in the village.

Matty greeted Robin in her usual happy and loving way. Even though he had known her from before Henry married her Robin had never seen her unhappy: cross even furious but somehow never unhappy.

"Oh good!" she cried. "I thought you might be all mopey and solemn but you look thoroughly chirpy. Bachelorhood must suit you."

She hugged him again.

"It's seeing you, my love," replied Robin smiling broadly.

"Ooh, look out Henry. He's in hunting mode again." She grabbed Robin's hand and pulled him through to the drawing room.

"Sit," she ordered. "Henry knows what you drink. So, boredom finally got the better of you both."

"Yes but it was Bea who made the move. That was surprising in itself but she was so organised: job, flat, removals. Pouf and she was gone."

"And you're happy?"

"Yes, slightly unsettled but I think that once I've sold the house and moved that'll disappear."

"Probably. What were Christopher and Daphne's reactions?"

"Unsurprised, a bit sad but loving and supportive. Thank God we kept going until they were adults and launched."

"Launch yourself into this," said Henry handing him a whisky and soda.

"Thanks," said Robin taking a sip. "Oof! How much whisky did you put in that?"

"A man-sized portion so get on with it."

"You're out to get me sloshed."

"Me?"

"Yes you."

"You're not driving so let your hair down. We'll walk your hangover off tomorrow."

"On your own heads be it."

They had a happy and laughter filled evening. Robin caught up on Charles, his godson's news. He was delighted to hear that Lottë, their elder daughter, would be arriving for lunch the next day and spending the rest of the weekend at home. He had loved her and had lots of fun with her as a little girl.

Lottë was ready to try anything: handstands, cartwheels, jumping into a swimming pool from the five metre board at the age of ten. Then, at the age of sixteen, on the way home from a party in what was considered a safe area of London she had been dragged into an alley way and raped. It had traumatised her. She was very wary of young men and would not go out on solo dates. She was always dressed in shapeless clothes unless at home with her parents for a party and she wore a hideous pair of glasses which hid the shape of her beautiful eyes. With those she could trust, and Robin was amongst them, she was fun, vital, intelligent and amusing. She had a job with the local paper at Gloucester where she shared a flat with another girl. She was now twenty-eight. Her younger sister, Annette, was two years younger, had been married for two years and was the mother of a three month-old boy. She lived in Hertfordshire from where her husband commuted daily to London. He was in marine insurance.

Charles was the eldest at thirty-one. He had tried his hand at a variety of jobs but now dealt in classic cars and was doing well at it. He and his wife, Jean, had two daughters and lived just west of Birmingham.

"Are you going to divorce in two years' time?" asked Henry

"Not unless I've found somebody new. It's against our principles, particularly Bea's."

"Don't let that hold you back for Heaven's sake."