The Ex Factor by Val Bonsall

Why has Caitlin invited her ex-husband to this party? And what does it mean for her and me?

YOU don’t look yourself, Steven,” Caitlin’s mum says to me. “Not comfortable.” “It’s the suit,” I reply with a smile.

Something in her face suggests she doesn’t entirely believe me. Which is fair enough, because it isn’t entirely true.

But I’m saved from further questions by the arrival of more guests, waving to her as they enter the hotel function room. Excusing herself, she steps forward to greet them.

The thing about the suit is I’m just not used to wearing one. In my job, computers, it’s very casual – open-neck shirts and jeans.

But I thought I should dress up for the occasion of Caitlin’s parents’ golden wedding anniversary party. They would expect it. Her dad tends to dress smartly, even when we go to the football together, as do the rest of her family.

So, it seems, does Caitlin’s ex-husband.

I look over at him. I know who he is because earlier I overheard him introducing himself that way to someone.

Chatting with Caitlin’s older sister, he looks immaculate and totally at ease in his suit, well cut and fitting him perfectly – unlike mine!

I didn’t realise, until I put it on today, how tight it’s become. Like I say, I don’t wear it often.

Caitlin’s exhusband’s name is Damian. All I really know about him is that his and Caitlin’s marriage had been over for some while before she and I met, and there weren’t any children involved.

“It was totally amicable. We tried hard to make it work but finally had to accept it had been a mistake. Our parents had said we were too young, both just in our teens.

“I suspect, looking back, it was the worst thing they could have done.” Caitlin laughed. “We were both rebellious and inclined to do the opposite of what anyone told us!”

I knew, with both of us into our thirties, we were bound to have past romances, though mine had never come anything like close to tying the knot. I’d never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.

My brother Malcolm was the same. I think our mother had given up all hope of ever getting rid of either of us. I heard her one day saying as much to a neighbour, who replied that our mum was too good to us.

Malc then started going out with a woman called Raquel. She seemed to adore him and we all liked her – Mum in particular. I knew she was very hopeful of Raquel becoming her daughter-in-law.

But one night, when I was out having a pint with Malc, he told me that, whilst he was thinking about proposing to Raquel, he wasn’t completely sure.

“I just don’t know whether what I feel is deep enough to be for ever, Steven.”

Just lately his words seem to be coming into my mind a lot, I guess because that’s about where I am now with Caitlin.

The next night Malc came home later than usual with Raquel, both all smiles, and announced they were getting married!

“What made my mind up,” he explained afterwards, “was there was an accident today at work with one of the machines. I was OK, but the guy I was doing the job with had to be rushed to hospital. I was shaken up, though, and it was Raquel I went to. She was the one I wanted.”

Our dad heard our conversation.

“I once heard someone say that, in an emergency, if there’s someone you love nearby that’s who you’ll turn to first.” Malcolm looked at him. “That’s it exactly. No-one else would do for me but Raquel and I realised I loved her.”

I smile now at the memory. Not thrillingly romantic, but I imagine it’s true. Anyway, they got married and they’re very happy together.

A waiter comes past and I take a glass of wine from the tray he’s balancing.

Across the room, I can see Caitlin, talking to an aunt of hers whom I met one day when we were shopping in town.

Caitlin gives me a wave, but I’m not expecting to have much of her company tonight, at least not until later when people have stopped arriving. She’s the one who’s organised all this for her parents, so she’s acting as hostess.

Waving back to her, I take a sip of the wine. My eyes return to Damian, still talking to Caitlin’s sister.

He’s the main reason I’m feeling uneasy. OK, I don’t like getting all dressed up, but the physical discomfort, even from my tight, newly bought shoes, is nothing compared to the questions that keep spinning round my head.

Why is Damian here? If he’s firmly in Caitlin’s past, as had

been very much my impression, why did she invite him?

Is there still unfinished business there? You hear of it – couples parting, then getting back together.

The room suddenly feels very hot. I step out on to the adjoining terrace to cool down.

It’s very pretty, little lights everywhere twinkling like stars in the gathering darkness. There’s a moon, too. I know Caitlin spotted me coming out, as she gave me another wave, and I’m hoping she’ll join me.

Suddenly she appears. Her face is urgent, like there’s something important she’s just got to say.

“Is Damian out here?” she demands.

“No,” I say, “but –” She’s gone before I can finish, hurrying back into the room to find her ex-husband.

I’ve got the answer to my questions, I reckon. And when I follow her back inside, I’m even more sure. She’s standing with another woman and Damian, beside a boy of about eight or nine.

From snatches of conversation from those around me, it appears there’s been an incident.

“The lad couldn’t breathe. It was awful.” “I know. His face!” “Was it nuts?” “Something he got off the buffet table . . .”

It remains uncertain whether it was nuts. But he’d been messing about, like kids do, and got something stuck in his throat.

I remember the conversation with my brother and father on the fateful day when Malcolm came off the fence about his feelings for Raquel.

“In an emergency, if there’s someone you love there, that’s who you’ll turn to first.”

That’s what my dad had said. It had applied to Malcolm, and obviously now to Caitlin, too. After the panic she’d come looking, not for me, but for her ex. Damian.

Yes, I have the answer to my question.

Drama over, the party gets going again. Though I’m not inclined to join anyone, people are now generally established in little groups and Caitlin at last comes over to me.

“You’re not enjoying this, are you?”

I start to protest but she insists.

“You’re not. You’ve looked uneasy all evening.”

I consider giving her the “not used to wearing a suit and tie” line that I gave to her mum. But I know from her face I have to be honest.

“I was surprised that you invited Damian.”

I consider adding the word “hurt” to “surprised” but don’t.

She frowns. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He was your husband!” Surely she can see that? She goes quiet, then speaks.

“He was also my parents’ son-in-law, Steven. And yes, I sent out the invitations, you’re right there. But it is their party and I knew they would like him to be here.”

“Yes, he seems to be getting on well with everyone!” Even as I say this, I know it sounds petulant. Childish.

She sighs and shakes her head.

“Over the time Damian and I were together, a lot of things happened in my family, Steven. Not good things – sometimes you hit a spell like that, don’t you?

“My brother died and there was other stuff, too. Damian, just as much as me, was a great support to Mum and Dad. We’ve split up, but he still means something to them, and as I’ve said, it is their celebration, after all.”

Her voice has changed. She sounds angry – at me. It’s probably the only time she really has sounded that way since we met.

I feel ashamed. Say Malcolm and Raquel split up – I wouldn’t expect my parents to forget all about Raquel, would I?

I don’t know what to say, but Caitlin now smiles her gentle, kind and thoughtful smile.

“But I’m sorry, I should have talked to you about it, Steven. I just . . . didn’t think. I didn’t regard it as a big thing that he was going to be here.”

She looks around her. “I don’t think anyone else does, either.”

I nod at the reality of what she’s saying. No-one has seemed remotely interested in Damian being here.

There have been no curious glances or muttered speculations – apart from by me, frightened of losing the woman I now realise I love.

My irritation at his presence was fear. A blind fear of her still being in love with him, and maybe him with her, and therefore there being no prospect for us. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “No, it’s me who should be sorry,” I say, “and I am.”

She takes my hand. Feeling it in mine makes my heart soar. Our eyes meet and I’m transfixed, like an animal in a car’s headlamps. I think she’s the same, but then she breaks the hold.

“Anyway, the way it’s turned out,” she says, “I’m very, very glad I did invite Damian.”

“Oh.” My heart dives again.

“Yes, in case we have any more accidents. I mean, him being a doctor.”

“A doctor? Is he really? I didn’t know that!” I feel a great big grin spread across my face.

“Why is that funny?”

“It isn’t.” I shake my head. “It’s just – like you say, good to have a doctor on hand.”

And good that that’s why she went rushing about looking for him!

The band has stopped playing.

“I’m afraid Dad’s going to make a speech,” she whispers. Another smile, a bit wistful this time. “But fifty years! How lovely to have been married fifty years. It’s an achievement.”

I do some quick calculations. I know we’re neither of us young. But we’re all living longer these days – sixty is the new forty, and all that. We could be in with a chance of making it.

Later, after the toasts and speeches – and her dad’s was rather good, actually – I propose.

And she says yes. n

It looks like I have the answer to my question