Note: Thanks for your patience folks, and here is the later than usual update. Once again, I go into British legal matters a little here, this time divorce. The American process may well be different.
But enough of that. Onwards. In which Gary gets his comeuppance. I know you've all been waiting for it, so I hope you enjoy.
Carrot Cake
Chapter Twelve
Belle was feeling remarkably all right considering everything that had happened the previous evening. She wouldn't be able to feel any better than 'all right' until she'd seen Gold on Monday evening, and she certainly wasn't going to have a good day today whilst waiting for Gary to possibly call. But she was feeling pretty hopeful that everything could be sorted out. Gold understood; they'd made a date to talk about it and all was going to be well. She hadn't really thought about the possible magnitude of what she'd been doing when she'd sneaked off with Ruby's home phone at eleven o'clock at night once the majority of the guests had gone home, and it was only once she'd put the number in that she'd realised what a terrible mistake drunk-dialling was and had hung up in a hurry. She had only intended to make a date to discuss things, but even that had a propensity to go wrong.
She certainly hadn't expected Gold to ring her back half an hour later, evidently as tipsy as she was, and she was extremely relieved that everything had turned out for the best.
Belle half-expected Gary to be waiting on her doorstep when she stepped out of Granny's battered little Ford Fiesta (lovingly nicknamed Lola) but she couldn't say that she was sorry he wasn't.
"Let me know if you need any moral support," Ruby said, twisting round in the front passenger seat and reaching over to pat Belle's arm as she got out. "We aren't doing much except cleaning up today, so I'll get my personal chauffeuse to run me over."
"Hmm," said Granny, unconvinced. "We'll see about that."
Belle waved them off, Ruby still pleading her case, and let herself into the hallway. She was just about to let herself into her flat proper when there was a clatter of feet down the stairs from the first floor, where her landlord resided.
"Oh, Belle, I'm so sorry, someone turned up last night looking for you, said it was important, so I told him you were at Ruby's; it wasn't until afterwards I realised it must have been your husband. I mean, he said he'd come from your neck of the woods up north and I thought there might be a family crisis or something. Oh dear, are you all right?"
The poor woman was so worried that Belle had to smile.
"I'm all right, thank you."
"Because I mean, you never know, do you, when marriages break up, what caused them…"
Belle could see what the older woman was driving at but didn't actually want to mention.
"Mrs Ginger, it's all right. I'm not on the run from an abusive partner. I moved away from an idiotic one, yes, but I'm not in hiding."
"Oh, thank goodness, I was so worried that I'd caused something terrible to happen. I mean… Oh, never mind, you're safe and that's all that matters."
"Yes, Mrs Ginger. Thank you for your concern."
Belle wasn't particularly happy with her landlord's blithely telling Gary her whereabouts, but this scare appeared to have taught her a lesson and she'd hopefully stick to 'she's not in, come back tomorrow' in future. She let herself into her flat as Mrs Ginger went back upstairs, still berating herself in muted tones, and she threw herself down on the sofa. She was still wearing yesterday's clothes and really ought to do something about getting herself more presentable for her inevitable visitors, but she was more concerned with getting herself a battle plan at that moment in time.
Between ringing Gold and him ringing back the previous evening, Belle had phoned her dad for his perspective on the whole thing, figuring that it wouldn't be quite such a problem if she burst into tears and incoherency whilst talking to him as it would anyone else. Moe, doting father that he was, told her to sit tight and he'd drive down in the morning, to be on hand 'to clout Gary if necessary', if nothing else. Belle was extremely grateful. Whilst Ruby had loyally offered her moral support, she had never really dealt with Gary before; she knew Belle's story but hadn't been there to witness its playing out. Moe had, and was far better placed to intercede. Plus, Ruby had a temper second to none when riled, as evidenced in the road last night. She could easily end up making an already tense situation even more fraught.
Belle stared at the ceiling, kicking her heels against the arm of the sofa. The main thing was to stay calm and act like the responsible adult that she was, even if it got to the stage where she had to drum it into her head like a mantra. She could not let herself sink to Gary's level. She would deal with this situation calmly and coolly , but she would not let it lie without a solution.
Moe arrived on the stroke of eleven o'clock; Belle heard him manoeuvring his van into a parking space only just big enough for it on the road outside the house. She opened the door to greet him, surprised when two people got out of the vehicle.
"How are you, Bells?" Moe wrapped his daughter in a bear hug. "Christ. When I said Gary was looking to get back together with you I had no idea that he was that adamant about it."
"Neither did I. Well, he certainly screwed up his chances of a reconciliation last night, not that it was ever on the cards to start with." Moe released her and Belle looked over his shoulder at his passenger, her brow furrowing.
"Mr Spencer? I thought you'd retired."
"Oh, I have, years ago. But once a lawyer, always a lawyer, and when Maurice called me for my advice this morning, I couldn't say no. Besides, it's a nice chance to visit the West Country."
Mr Spencer was the solicitor who had first sorted out the legalities when Belle and Moe had moved from Australia. Although Belle herself had never had much to do with him, Moe was eternally grateful for his help and had kept in intermittent contact with him.
"Come in," Belle said quickly, "out of the cold." She ushered the two men into the living room and made some tea, pulling the rarely-used coffee table out of one corner of the room and wishing she had a tablecloth or something to make it slightly more upmarket.
"As far as I can see, Mrs Hunter, or do you prefer Ms French?" Mr Spencer began.
"Just Belle is fine."
"Well, Belle, as far as I can surmise from your father's summary of the situation on the motorway this morning, a divorce between yourself and Mr Hunter shouldn't prove too problematic at all. You have no children, so custody and maintenance aren't an issue. You have no shared property or funds that must be split. You've been living independently for two years, neither financially supporting the other. As far as I can see all you need to do is file a petition and get the ball rolling. Legally, there are no difficulties that would prevent the process going ahead at full speed. Financial issues are usually the main concern."
"Oh." Belle was taken aback by the simplicity of it all. She might have done something about getting divorced earlier if she'd realised. Mr Spencer smiled sympathetically.
"In your case, it's only the human element that turns things on their head, I'm afraid," he said, his voice apologetic. "An awful lot depends on Mr Hunter's attitude."
Gary, the sticking point. If he was belligerent enough, he could hold things up considerably.
"I brought you a pamphlet," Mr Spencer said hopefully. "It should explain the process a little more. Not that a pamphlet is much consolation, really. If you do work things out today, I'd be more than happy to discuss things with you and drop into Randal Spencer Smythe tomorrow and get one of my former colleagues on the case for you. Unless you'd prefer to handle it yourself from down here? I know a couple of firms in the area. Guildhall and Blackwell."
Belle hid a smile.
"No, thank you, I think it would be better for you to take charge, Mr Spencer."
"Of course." He paused. "Was that the letterbox? On a Sunday?"
Belle duly went out into the hall to check. A single folded sheet had been pushed through, and Belle recognised her name on the front in scruffy hand.
Belle. She opened it up. Belle, I'm really sorry for last night and I'm going home now, call me and maybe we can talk about it. Gary.
Belle felt her blood begin to boil, rage building up at the back of her throat so that she could almost taste it, hot and bitter. He had ruined her evening, nearly ruined her relationship and just fallen short of ruining her life, and he didn't even have the courtesy or courage to apologise in person.
"Bells? What's up?" Moe had poked his head round her door. Belle thrust the note at him and raced out of the front door down the street. Gary was almost at the corner.
"Gary! Gary!"
He stopped and turned.
"I got your note," Belle continued, forcing herself to remain composed and not lose it. She had to keep the upper hand, the moral high ground. She simply had to. "And I thought that since we're both here and we've nothing better to do, we may as well talk about this now. Like mature adults." She gestured up the street towards her open front door, gritting her teeth. "Please, come in for a cup of tea."
And be very grateful that I haven't laced it with arsenic, you wretch, she added mentally, with some degree of vitriol.
"Belle, I really don't… I mean, your dad's there…" Gary began, but Belle held up a hand to stop him.
"You've got some nerve, Gary," she said, her brain pleading with her not to lose it and shout. "You turn up unannounced and uninvited. You proceed to ask for a reconciliation, threaten me and insult me, all practically in the same breath. And on top of all that, you don't even have the decency to give me an apology for all of the above in person. I am asking you nicely. Please come in so that we can talk about this without making another spectacle. Because there is no 'maybe' about it. This needs to be discussed."
There was a long pause.
"Ok."
Belle followed him up the street, congratulating herself on her handling of the situation thus far. Moe met them at the door, his face a paragon of the expression 'unimpressed'.
"Mr French," Gary said. Moe simply stared him down.
"You know where I am if you want me, Belle," he said grimly, going back into the living room as Belle indicated for Gary to go through to the kitchen. She folded her arms.
"I'm sorry I called you a gold-digger."
"You didn't actually call me a gold-digger. You called my boyfriend a sugardaddy and thereby implied I was a gold-digger, in doing so insulting the both of us."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I was just surprised."
"Apology accepted."
"But you've got to admit, it is a bit weird from where I'm standing… How old is he anyway?"
"God, that's the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard," Belle snapped. Oops. Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm. "You really aren't getting off to a good start with this reconciliation that you are so worryingly desperate for." She paused, took a deep breath and continued calmly. "Gary, what did you expect to happen when you came down here? Did you honestly expect me to just jump back into your arms as if we'd never been apart for two years and never had twelve months of what could barely be described as marriage?"
"Erm, well, I can't say I had a plan, as such."
Well, that much is obvious, snarled her brain. She closed her eyes. Get answers, get excuses, get reasons. Don't get mad.
"Gary, you turned up on my doorstep – hell, it wasn't even my doorstep – without so much as a pre-emptive phone call. Would ringing me up really have been so much trouble? Just to say 'I'm coming to Devon to talk about this'? Why this sudden urge to reconcile anyway after eighteen months?"
Belle opened her eyes. She was expecting an answer along the lines of 'I didn't have your phone number', which would have been a perfectly and annoyingly reasonable explanation.
"I thought you'd be more likely to say yes if I just turned up."
Belle just stared at him in utter disbelief.
"Do you really think you're that irresistible?" she said, too angry to shout. She could barely speak for the rage flowing through her veins and knotting up her throat. "Do you honestly think I would come back to you in a fingersnap after over a year of building a new life for myself? Just because you were here? Did it never occur to you that I might just slam the door in your face and tell you never to darken my door again?" She paused. "No, of course not. Because you'd have come to your senses and done this differently if it did."
"Ok, so I went about it the wrong way, but…"
"But nothing. Telling a woman you can't stop thinking about her and then insulting her is not the right way to win her back. Full stop."
"I said I was sorry!"
"You shouldn't have said it all, sorry or not! What happened to 'if you truly love someone, you'll let them go'? You should have said 'I'm glad you've moved on and you're happy now', because up until you showed up, I was a damn sight happier than I'd been for a long time!"
She'd raised her voice by this point, her calm façade slipping again. Belle took another couple of deep breaths.
"I don't want to let you go," Gary said. "I want you to come back with me."
"But why, Gary? That's what I don't understand. You say you can't stop thinking about me, but is that really the whole reason?"
"Because…" Gary was floundering, Belle could see it. He knew that the true answer wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.
"Just tell me the truth. You've caused enough of a crisis that you owe me that much."
"Because I thought it would be easier than this. I thought that because we hadn't got divorced, you were just as stuck as I was and we could make another go of it. I thought it would be easier for both of us to just… come back to what we know."
Belle shook her head in disbelief, unable to articulate for a few minutes.
"You thought I'd be a pushover," she said quietly, translating his words. "You thought I'd be so desperate I'd come back to you just because you offered. You thought that because I hadn't made a clean break, I was hanging on, lost and lonely, waiting for you to come back and sweep me off my feet again. No wonder it threw you for six when you learned I was having a good time and I'd found someone new. You haven't had as much fortune as I have in starting afresh; haven't found anyone better yet, so why not come back to what you know?" She snorted. "I'm not going to reconcile with you just to boost your bruised ego."
"No, Belle, I love you, I swear."
Belle shook her head again. Whilst it might be true, it wasn't his primary reason. He was acting out of cowardice and indolence first and foremost, unwilling to make a break and leap into the unknown like she had done, wanting the comfortable, easy stasis that he had always had with her before the arguments started.
"You know, I think you were right when you called it breathing space," she said. "I always felt so stifled when I was with you. Now I can breathe, and I don't want to lose that ability because it is so wonderful a feeling. The reason I never started a divorce is because I just wanted to get out, and once I was out, I never wanted to look back. I still don't. Nothing you say will change that. But now I know that I will never be able to get out properly until there is nothing between us. I'm filing for divorce, Gary."
Gary shook his head.
"You're just rushing into this because you're angry. Please Belle," he wheedled. "Think about it."
"You're right. I am angry. I'm bloody livid that after everything you've done and everything you've just said, you're still trying to convince me to change my mind. And I have thought about it. I've been thinking about it for two years, so it can hardly be called rushed."
Belle wanted to throw him bodily out of the front door and yell 'you'll be hearing from my lawyer!' like she had seen on the TV so many times, but she knew she couldn't.
"Mr Spencer!" she called instead. "Could you come in here for a moment please?"
The former solicitor stepped into the kitchen, Moe following behind, still looking grim.
"What happens when I begin a divorce?" Belle asked plainly.
"You will file a petition with your solicitor, who will then send Mr Hunter a letter asking him to respond to the petition. If both parties agree to the terms, which is likely since, as I said before, there are no financial issues to be taken care of between you, more letters are exchanged and a decree nisi will be issued. After this there is a waiting period of six weeks before the application for absolute is made, and the divorce is complete. If there is no contention it will take roughly four months, possibly less in an uncomplicated case."
"Mr Spencer is a retired solicitor," Belle explained to the obviously perplexed Gary. "He kindly came down with Dad to give me some advice this morning."
Gary looked utterly defeated. His grand master plan of getting his cosy life back had been shot down in flames, because Belle was not, and would never be, going to budge. He threw his hands up.
"Well, it looks like you're serious about this and nothing will convince you to change your mind." He shrugged. "I can't force you to be married to me."
It was the most sensible and kindest thing he'd said to her since he'd arrived on Ruby's doorstep the previous evening.
"Thank you," Belle said, breathing an inward sigh of relief. "Mr Spencer, could you please do as you offered and set the wheels in motion?"
"One of my colleagues will contact you within the week to discuss the terms of your petition, Ms French," Mr Spencer replied with a little bow.
Gary looked at her, and she saw the vestiges of genuine sadness in his eyes. She had always known that the relationship was doomed far before he had, but he had agreed to their separation without hesitation; he hadn't really tried to change her mind at the time. He had agreed when she said it wasn't working and she wanted to end it.
"There's just one thing I can't get out of my head," he began. "Do you think… Do you think it would have worked if you hadn't lost the baby?"
Belle froze as something inside her snapped and all her self-control came shuttering down in a chaotic collapse. Just one word had done it, one single pronoun. You. You lost the baby. Not we. You lost the baby, and that was the catalyst, ergo it's all your fault.
"All right," she heard Moe say. "I think you'd better leave now, Gary. The conversation's over." His tone was a warning one. "You're fast outstaying your welcome."
You lost the baby. It was an accusation, blaming her miscarriage for the breakdown of their marriage. Belle didn't mind being blamed. She had been the one to end it, yes, she accepted full responsibility in that sense, yes. But it had nothing to do with the baby. Her hands curled into fists.
"We were falling apart before that," she whispered. "You know deep down that we were. So don't you dare blame me in that way. Don't you dare insinuate that it's my fault purely because I couldn't carry the baby to term."
"Out!" Moe growled.
"Belle, I didn't mean it like that, you know I didn't!" Gary's voice was high and panicked, and Belle believed him, but the damage had been done. After everything else, it was just one wrong word too many.
"That's it." Moe grabbed Gary by the shoulder and pulled him out of the kitchen. Mr Spencer politely excused himself and vanished discreetly into the living room.
Belle rested her shaking fists on the worktop, willing herself to calm down. It didn't matter anymore. It was over. No matter what Gary might say, it was all just words. She was going to get divorced and she was not going to regret it.
"Bells? Belle? He's gone, Sweetheart, and I warned him not to come back and upset you. And if he does once I've gone, just call the police, all right?" Moe's voice pervaded her perception. She looked up at him, standing beside her at the counter and blinked, but her eyes were surprisingly dry. No doubt the tears – of shock, anger, relief – would come later.
"How strong was your warning?" she asked weakly.
"My hand may have accidently somehow made contact with his head," Moe admitted. "But I didn't draw blood. Won't even leave a bruise, I swear."
Belle managed a smile.
"If he'd only said 'we' instead of 'you'," she murmured. "I'd have been fine. My answer would have been the same, it always will, but I wouldn't have minded the question."
"I know, Sweetheart. I know. But it's all over now. Do you want another cup of tea? How are you feeling?"
Belle took a deep breath, and thought about her answer carefully. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders, one she hadn't even realised she'd been carrying, being so used to it for such a long time.
"I've no idea how to describe it," she said.
Moe just gave her a hug.
Much later, after her dad and Mr Spencer had taken her out for an impromptu and slightly late Sunday lunch as a pseudo-celebration and she'd waved them on their way, and the inevitable tears had come in their floods and she'd phoned Ruby for moral support, Belle was still wondering how to describe her feelings when her phone rang.
It was Emma.
"Erm, Belle, I'm not quite sure how to tell you this; you're never going to believe me, but I swear I'm not making it up."
"What?" Belle asked warily.
"Graham's just arrested Gary."
"What!"
"Drunk and disorderly, causing a disturbance," Emma continued. "I swear I'm not making it up, honestly."
"No, no, I believe you." It wasn't the first time. Belle remembered having to go and bail him out on a couple of occasions back in the day. Such beautiful irony. She began to laugh.
"Belle? Belle? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine. I'm laughing, not crying."
"Oh, that's all right then." Emma sounded incredibly relieved. "I had no idea how you'd take it but I had to let you know."
As Belle began to relay a potted version of the day's events to Emma, she finally realised how she felt. She drawn a line under her and Gary, and no matter what her conversation with Gold might bring, the line was there to stay. She would not go back simply because he was there, like Gary had wanted to do with her. She knew how she felt.
She felt free.
To be continued. I admit here and now to a tendency to vilify Gaston/Gary, but I tried to temper my enthusiasm slightly. He's not evil, just very misguided.
