That evening, Kate was late at the office, so when she got home, she found out her husband had paid the neighbour a visit.
Kate stepped off the bus just after eight oclock. Instantly, her heel got stuck in a crack on the pavementshe jerked her foot free, nearly dislocated her shoulder as the grocery bag swung down. Inside: a chicken, a bottle of milk, and three onions. The usual glamorous fare. Just dinner.
She plodded through the block of flats, thinking about the report she still had to finish by Friday and, by the way, why did she buy milk? Mark hadnt touched milk in weekssomething about acid reflux. She also noticed (again) the streetlamp at the third entrance was out and thought, as always, she must email the landlord about it. She never actually did.
The lift, naturally, was refusing to acknowledge the eighth floor; the button didnt light up. Kate sighed and picked the stairs. On the fourth, someone was frying onions. On the sixth, it stank of someones cigarette. On the eighth, silence. The door oppositethe neighbour Ninaswas ajar. Perfume drifted out: that sweet, mysterious, faintly exotic smell. Kate knew that scent but chose not to dwell.
In her own flat, she unpacked the shopping in the kitchen and called out, Mark? Im home!
Silence.
She hung up her coat, kicked off her shoes, peeked into the lounge: empty. Bedroomno one. TV was off. Remote on the sofa, mornings newspaper tossed on top, as usual. All exactly as expected.
Kate went back to the kitchen and started unpacking: chicken into the sink, water on, phone out. Texted: Where are you?
Three minutes. Five. No reply.
She heated up a pan, poured in some oil, chopped an onion. Then another. Her phone rangshe wiped her hand, checked. Not Mark. His mother.
Hello, Janet.
Oh Kate, is Mark in?
No, not yet. Why?
Its nothing. He hasnt picked up; I just wanted to ask about Saturday.
Drop him a messagehell ring you back.
Yes, yes, of course. Dont mind me, love
I dont, Janet.
Good then. Take care, love.
Kate put the phone down and returned to onionsnow nearly burning in a hot, resentful sizzle. She tossed them in, stirring.
The front door slammed.
Its me, Marks voice called from the hall.
Kate didnt turn.
Dinnerll be twenty minutes, she said.
She heard him remove his boots, wander into the bathroom, run water. Washes up. Then his head appeared in the kitchen doorway.
How longve you been home?
Half an hour, she replied. Where were you?
At Ninas.
Kates hand froze mid-stir. She didnt look back. Eyes glued to the onions.
Nina who?
The neighbour. Opposite. Her shelf came off the wallasked me to fix it.
She resumed stirring, slowly.
Shelf took a while, didnt it?
Well, it wasnt just the shelf, she also had a dripping tap.
And you fixed the tap?
I did.
Good for you.
Mark hovered, hands in pockets.
Something wrong? he ventured.
Nothing. You fixed the tap: brilliant. Ill call you when its ready.
He shuffled out. Kate turned down the heat on the pan. She hacked at the chickenthe knife hopelessly dull, resisting all efforts since last Easter. She finished, added chicken to onions, lid on. Her hands stayed calm. Her head mostly.
Nina Carter. Thirty-two. Divorced. Moved in a year and a bit ago. Worked at some design firmKate never remembered the name. Dyed brown hair, always flawless; painted-on jeans. Wide, photo-ready smile. Teeth like a toothpaste ad. First to say hi, Hello Kate! as if they were best mates, as if theyd grown up together.
Kate told herself: Just the neighbour. Thats all.
She filled the kettle, set out mugs. Caught herself automatically setting out two, always out of habit.
From the lounge: Kate, have you seen the TV remote?
On the sofa. Under the paper.
Oh, found it.
TV erupted: news, dull droning voices. Kate stood by the window. Only one lamp out of three worked in the courtyard. The kids had vanished; just two teenagers on a bench, nursing convenience store lattes.
Kate found Ninas number in her contacts. Dialled.
Three rings.
Hello? Ninas voicegentle, a bit surprised.
Nina, hi. Its Katethe neighbour.
Hi, Kate! Everything okay?
Oh, absolutely. Just tell me one thing. Was Mark over today?
A pause. Only a heartbeat, but a pause.
He was, yes. Fixed the shelf. I askedits so heavy, I couldnt manage alone
How long was he there?
Oh about an hour and a half, I suppose. Why?
No reason. Goodnight.
Kate hung up. An hour and a half. Shelf and a tap in ninety minutes. She flicked back the chicken. The oil splatteredshe flinched, wiped her hands.
Mark ambled in.
Were you on the phone?
My mum, Kate said.
He grabbed an apple from the bowl, leaning in the doorway, biting. She laid the table. Plates. Forks. Bread.
Mark, she said, still not turning. Was this your first time at hers?
Where?
Ninas.
Erno. She once asked me to change a light bulb. Told you that.
You didnt.
I did, Kate. Youve just forgotten. It was back in summer.
That took an hour and a half too, did it?
Mark lowered the apple.
Are you checking up on me?
I asked her. She said an hour and a half.
So what? We had a bit of a chat. She gave me tea. Is that a crime?
No, said Kate. Its not a crime.
She brought the skillet over, grabbed a pot holder. Chicken done. Perfectly ordinary chicken and onions. An absolutely average dinner.
Sit, she said.
Mark sat. She dished up. They ate in silence, the TV muttering away, now about weather and weekend frost.
Tasty, Mark said.
Yeah.
Kate?
What?
Youre cross.
She looked him over. His face: a mix of guilt and aggravation, the face of a man being accused of something he genuinely believes he hasnt done. Familiar look.
No, she said. Im not cross.
Good.
He finished up, put his plate in the sink. Went to lounge, TV back onfootball, this time.
Kate sat staring at her half-eaten dinner, mechanically chewing a mouthful.
She thought about it.
The pause in Ninas voice. The slight, almost hidden hesitation. But it was there.
—
The next day, Kate rose earlier than usual. Mark was still asleep. She washed, dressed, and made coffee, drinking it standing by the kitchen window, watching the caretaker in a hi-vis vest battle the wind with a broom near the bins.
All day at work, she kept thinking about it. Not panicked, just quietly, like a splinter you know is there but cant quite spot yet.
Her friend Sarah rang at lunch.
How are you?
Fine.
You dont sound fine.
Its nothing, Sarah. Bad sleep.
Is it Mark?
Why do you always assume its Mark?
Because every time you sound dodgy and say youre fine, it always is.
Kate was quiet.
Be honest, what would you think? she asked.
About what?
Your husband keeps popping over to the neighbours. Helping out. Shelves, taps. Ninety minutes. Having tea.
Sarah paused.
The first time?
He says no. Was there in the summer. For a lightbulb.
And the neighbour?
Divorced. Young. Pretty.
Kate.
What?
Have you told him?
Told him what?
What you think.
I dont think anything. I just laid out the facts.
Kate. Youre smart, but sometimes you hide behind logic. Just the factsbut how do you *feel*?
I dont know, Kate admitted. Maybe theres nothing. Maybe Im making it up.
Or not.
Exactly.
Just talk to him, Sarah said. No hints, no silly questions about taps. Be clear.
Easier said.
I know. But are you really going to live forever with a splinter in your side, pretending nothings wrong?
Im not, agreed Kate. I wont.
That evening, she went home. Mark was already in, bread on the table, kettle on, scrolling through his phone, sprawled on the sofa.
Hi, he said. Have you eaten?
At work.
Im making beans on toastwant any?
No.
She took her shoes off, hung up her coat, downed a glass of water in the kitchen, came back into the lounge, sat herself in the armchair opposite.
Mark.
Mm?
Put your phone away.
He glanced up. Picked up her tone, put the phone aside.
Im listening.
I need to ask you something. Properly. And I want a proper answer.
Go on.
Is there something going on with you and Nina?
No answer. A second. Two.
No, he said.
You thought before you replied.
I didntI
Mark. You thought.
He got up, circled the room. Paused at the window, back to her.
Theres nothing, Kate. Honestly.
So why the pause?
Because youre asking as if you expect me to squirm. Feels horrible.
Youve been over there. Not just once. Drinking tea. Sitting there for an hour and a half. Never mentioned it to me.
I told you about the bulb!
No. You didnt.
Kate, I swear I did. You forgot.
She watched his back.
Turn around, please.
He did, jaw tight.
Theres nothing to it, he repeated. Shes on her own; asked for help, I helped. Thats normalhelping a neighbour.
Normal, Kate agreed. Normal to help. Not normal not to mention it.
I wasnt hiding it!
Mark. She kept her voice steady. I asked you yesterday was it the first time, you said no, youd already been over in summer. I had to drag that out of youyou didnt offer.
He fell quiet.
Alright, he said at last. I see how it looks. But its only
Only what?
Only nice to chat to someone who listens.
Kate exhaled slowly.
I dont listen?
I didnt say that.
You said, nice to have someone listen. Sowhats wrong with me?
Kateyoure twisting this
Im not twisting anything. Im listening. Very closely, in fact.
He returned to the sofa, rubs his face.
Youre tired, he said. You come home, worn out. I start talking, youre not there. Its been like this for ages. Im not blaming you. It just is.
So you went to the neighbours.
Not went to her. He winced at the implication. You think I was physical with her.
I dont know what to think, Mark. Thats why Im asking.
He looked at her.
Theres nothing physical. Not at all. Thats not why I go.
Then why, exactly?
He paused.
She just talks properly. Asks how I am. Listens. Without her face in her phone or telly.
Kate stared at her husband. Twelve years shed known him. And now he sat opposite, telling her he went to the neighbours flat for a bit of conversation.
Got it, she said.
Kate
No, Im serious. Thank youthank you for telling me.
Youre annoyed.
No.
Then why that face?
Im thinking.
She stood, went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water. Stood, came back.
Mark, can I ask you one more thing? Please be honest.
Go ahead.
Are you in love with her?
He looked at her. A long look.
No, he said. No. Its not that.
What then?
Kate, its a a break. You know? I step outside our front door, and for half an hour, I feel like a normal person again. Thats it.
A break, repeated Kate. You dont get that in your own home, so you go to the neighbours.
Thats not what I meant.
Its exactly what you meant.
He rubbed his face once more. Stayed silent.
Kate thought for a bit. Maybe he was rightshe was always knackered. Work, commute, dinner, cleaning, that report, bed. Five days a week. She knew it, assumed Mark did too, that he got it and didnt expect much. Apparently notor at least, he was tired of getting it.
Alright, she said. Lets make a deal.
A deal?
No more visits. Not without me. At all.
Kate, dont be ridiculous
Its not a joke. Thats the condition. In return, I promise she hesitated, choosing her words, I promise to listen. Properly. Ill watch myself. When you talkI listen. Deal?
Mark looked at her.
You do love a contract.
Its my job, she said dryly.
I wont go round. If it matters that much.
It does.
Alright.
They sat. The pause about as full as the fish tank.
Still want beans on toast? he asked.
No. Lets have tea.
Alright.
He pottered in the kitchenshe could hear the clatter of mugs, water, kettle switched on. She sat in the armchair, looking out into the dark. One street lamp burned on.
She thought: probably not the end of the conversation. What hed saidabout a break and having someone to listenmattered more than shelves or taps. This was about them. Not the neighbour opposite.
Mark returned with two mugs.
Peppermint, he said, just how you like it.
Thank you.
He sat opposite, warming his hands on his mug (he always did that, winter or not).
Kate, he said.
Mm?
Im sorry.
For what, exactly?
For not saying. I shouldve told you.
Yes, she replied. You should have.
I didnt realise how it must look. To me, I just popped round, helped, chatted. But I get it
Its a symptom, she said.
A symptom of what?
That somethings off. That you needed someone to talk to, and it wasnt me.
He nodded, slowly.
Probably is.
Its worse than ifif youd done something with her. Means were just coexisting, out of habit.
You think so?
I dont know. Kate sipped her tea. But we need to do something. Before its too late.
Like?
Talk. Like you talk to her. With me. Properly.
Were talking now.
Yes. Good.
They sat, tea cooling. A woman trudged past outside, her little ginger terrier pulling her homewards. The lamp flickered, glowed on.
You fancy her? asked Kate.
Nina?
Yes.
He paused, but didnt squirm (which she appreciated).
Shes nice. But no, not like you mean.
How do I mean?
As in as a woman. No.
You sure?
Kate, do you want me to say yes, or do you want honesty?
Honesty.
Truth is, shes pleasant. I enjoy chatting to her. But I love you. Not the same thing.
Kate studied him.
Alright, she said at last.
Alright?
Alright, I believe you. For now.
For now?
Mark, dont give me a reason not to, and there wont be any for now.
He nodded.
Deal.
—
Three weeks went by.
Kate didnt police him. She avoided making it an issue, but made more effort after workput her phone down, actually asked how his day had gone, really listened. Absolutely not easy; she arrived home shattered and sometimes forced her ears to pay attention. But she tried.
Mark noticed. She saw ithe came straight home, didnt vanish into his phone or TV. Sat by her side, talked.
One evening he said, Im being offered a new project at work. Its tough, but interesting. More money too.
Tell me about it.
So, he did. Twenty-minute monologueteam, tech, worries, he didnt think he could cope. Kate listenedtruly, not just nodding at intervals.
Then asked: Why scared?
Its a new field for me. They expect more.
You handled new things before.
Was younger then.
Mark, youre forty-one.
Exactly.
Thats not old.
Its not young.
Take the project, she said. If its scary, do it. That means you want it.
He looked, considering.
You think so?
I do.
He nodded.
Alright. Ill think about it.
He took it. Three days later, said yes. Came home excited and wiredoffice adrenaline. Poured himself water.
I said yes, he said.
Brilliant.
Im nervous.
I know.
Kate. He looked up. I just wanted to say thank you.
For what?
For saying we should talk. I thought well, you were just mad. But you were right.
I wasnt mad.
I know. That was scarier, honestly.
She grinned.
It is scarier.
If youre angry, at least its obvious. But when you just look at me calm and say, Alright, I believe you, for nowwell
Well, what?
Its serious.
Yes. Serious.
Quiet.
Does she bother you? he asked.
Who?
Nina.
Kate reflected.
No, she answered truthfully. Not now. Something else does.
What?
That you felt lonely next to me and kept it quiet. That bothers me. Because it means I didnt notice.
Its not your fault.
Maybe not. But I should have noticed.
A pause.
Mark, she said. If you ever feel like that againdont go round to Ninas. Come to me. Even if Im tired, even if Ive got work, even if my phones buzzing. Say, Kate, I need a chat. Ill put it away.
Really?
Promise.
Swear?
Swear.
He nodded.
Alright. Deal.
—
She bumped into Nina in the lift at the start of December. Kate was back from the Co-op, Nina fresh from work, cocooned in a grey coat, giant bag slung on her shoulder. They stepped in together.
Hi, Nina saidcautiously.
Hi.
Heading home?
Mhm.
The lift inched up. Nina peered at her phone. Kate clutched her shopping.
Kate, Nina started, I
Dont, Kate said.
I just wanted to explain
Nina. Kate gazed at her, calm. Nothing needs explaining. Its fine.
Youre sure?
Im sure.
The lift opened on the eighth. Doors parted.
Have a nice evening, Kate said, stepping out.
Nina followed, her flat opposite. They split. Kate pulled out her keys.
She heard Nina shut her doorgently, carefully.
Inside, Kate dropped her bags, kicked off her shoes.
Its me! she called.
Hi! Mark replied from the kitchen. Ive made soupyou want some?
I do, said Kate.
She hung up her coat, walked into the kitchen, inhaling the smell of soupproper, with bay leaf. Two bowls on the table already.
Mark ladled out soup. He grinned.
Cold out?
Freezingminus seven.
Sit down, warm up.
She did. Scooped up a spoonful: hot, tasty, slightly too much salt, as always.
Bit salty, she said.
Bit, he agreed. Got distracted.
By what?
The new project. Was thinking.
Hows it going?
Slowly getting there. I think I cracked one problem today. Complicated.
Youll explain it after tea?
He looked at her.
I will, he said.
Outside, snow begantiny, indecisive flakes. Gathering on the sills, roof, telegraph wires. Kate watched, thinking: its alright. Nothing fell apart. Not because nothing happened, but because she didnt let it.
The spoon warmed her hand. Soup was hot. Across the table, her husband sat.
For nowenough.
—
Another month went by.
Kate realised, almost by accident, that Nina rarely crossed her mind anymore. Not on purposejust, other things crowded in. Marks work picked up; he came home wound upsometimes in a good way, sometimes bad. Once he came in looking thunderous.
Whats happened? she asked.
Client changed everything last minute. Three weeks down the drain.
Every bit?
Nearly. Well have to redo most.
He slumped in the kitchen in his coat. Kate put a mug of tea in front of him. He wrapped both hands around it.
Mark.
Yeah?
Do you want me to talk, or just sit here?
He glanced at her, startled by such a normal question.
Sit with me, he said.
Alright.
She made herself tea and joined him. They sat. Night had fallen outside; snow piled up, the urban kind thatd be slush by morning. Kate gripped her mug, thoughts quiet. Just sat.
Ten minutes later, Mark sighed.
Thanks, he said.
For what?
For not asking anything.
Youll tell me when youre ready.
I will. Not now, but later.
Okay.
She heated up dinner. He ate, coming back to himself. Over food, he shareda bit, not all, but enough. Kate listened. No unsolicited advice. No itll be alright. Just listening.
Youre different, he said suddenly.
How so?
Softer, somehow.
I was always like this.
No, he said. Not always. But now, yes.
Kate thought, perhaps not. Maybe she was just paying attention differently. Not because shed changed, but because shed been scared. When he said, Its just nice to be listened to, something had shifted. Quietly, without drama. Shifted.
She didnt say any of this. Held her tongue. Sometimes, silence works.
Winter, Marks mum came for a few days. Kate prepared without enthusiasm, but it all went fine. Janet brought homemade jam and winter boots for Markwrong size, had to be sent back. They drank tea. Janet talked about her sister whod moved to Cornwall. Kate listened. Janet, out of nowhere, said:
You look well today, Kate.
Thanks.
No, reallyyouve a new sparkle. Bit more rested?
No, busy as ever. Just one of those things.
Good. Means things are alright at home.
She meant nothing grandjust the way older people comment. But Kate realised it was true. Home was, unexpectedly, alright. Not perfectnothing isbut alright.
In January, Nina changed her locksKate heard the screwdrivers and the locksmiths banter. Later, they bumped into each other in the lift. This time, Ninas smile was just a regular, not a guilty, one.
Hi.
Hi.
Brutal out today.
Yeah, minus fifteen.
Lift doors opened. They parted ways. Kate let herself in, rubbed her ears to thaw them out.
Its me! she called.
Hungry? came Marks reply.
Famished.
Potatoes are on.
Lovely.
She walked into the kitchen. Mark stood at the hob, stirring the pot. He turned.
Your noses red.
Its freezing.
Go warm up. Ill finish here.
I like it here, she said, leaning on the wall by the stove. Its warm.
He hummed, stirringhumming tunelessly, like only the content ever do.
Whatre you singing?
No idea. Just happens.
Nice, though.
Youre teasing.
Im not.
He shot a look.
Really?
Really.
He returned to the pan. She watched his broad back, in a faded flannel shirt. Worn at the elbows. Shed known that shirt for eight years. Maybe time for a new one.
Mark, she said.
Mm?
Nothing. Just
Just what?
Just nice.
He turned. Looked at herattentive, a little thrown. Then he nodded.
Yeah, he said. It is.
The potatoes boiled. Outside, wind howled. Indoors it smelled of dinner and safety.
Twelve years. Andshe hopedmany more.
