It didn’t start well. Resentment came downstairs for breakfast when she did. It hovered over and around her like a cloud as she prepared fruit and cereal for the baby.
I tried to make small talk, but she wasn’t responding. Maybe I could have prepared breakfast before they came down, insteading of eating a bowl of cereal and drinking a cup of tea myself.
It was a sunny Saturday morning in a long, bank holiday weekend. My wife’s friend had sent a text to say that they were going to the seaside, and inviting us to join them.
My wife was torn. She wanted to go. We had had a good time together when we went for a picnic a few weeks ago. She wanted to go with them. But she didn’t want to go with me.
She hasn’t been talking to me for a while now. Except, it seems, to criticise me, whenever I try to speak. So I keep my peace, and put up with the silence.
So she wants to go, but she strings it out for a while. Finally, when she is in the shower, she calls to me to check how far it is, and how long it would take to get there.
The others are almost there, and it will take us nearly two hours to drive, but we set out. Two hours in near-total silence. Baby is sleeping. I try to make conversation, while I drive. But my wife is sitting in the back of the car with baby, and doesn’t want to talk.
Our destination is a surprise. Some of the seaside towns in this part of the world are gaudy, brash and commercialised. But this is nice. A beautiful little town we never visited before. Its narrow main street meandered downhill, past attractive little shops and cafes.
Finally it revealed a tiny harbour sheltering half a dozen bobbing fishing boats. A deep strand of golden strand curved around a cove, sheltered by low cliffs and overlooked by a old, but well kept hotel, a few tea shops, and an ice cream parlour.
We picked our way through couples and young families enjoying the spring sunshine, sitting in the sand amongst rugs and towels, picnic baskets, wind-breaks and sunshades.
The sea rolled in with lazy waves, lapping the sand in blue, green and grey. A few gulls flapped and called overhead. A few intrepid souls paddled or swam briefly in the cool Atlantic water. But most were content to sit on the beach, enjoying the swish of the waves, and the chatter of children building castles and playing in the soft sand.
We ate our picnic and talked to our friends. We shovelled sand in plastic buckets and tried (and failed) to fly a kite. Baby had a nice time, chasing gulls, and counting shells.
And all too soon it was over. Our friends left first. They had been there longer, and their baby was tired.
We waited a little longer. Drank tea from plastic cups and put the baby’s sweater on as the air cooled and the beach emptied.
Then we headed back to the car. Baby slept on the way home. My wife sat in the back with him. But we talked a little. About how nice the seaside was. And things seemed a little better than they had been. At least for a while.
