Another Love (11 page)

‘Was it?’ She smiled against him.

He nodded. ‘I saw you walking out of the Student Union one day and your hair was so bright, it was like everyone around you was two-dimensional, flat, beige, but you were solid, 3D, standing proud and in focus with this shining head of hair that caught my eye. I only saw the back of you and I told Rob that you were probably ugly, as any girl that was that fit from the back had to have something bad going on at the front.’

‘How mean are you!’

‘Not really. It was a case of self-preservation. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I’d known what was waiting for me at the front.’ He sighed. ‘I kept looking for you and then one day, in the library, there you were, my Bug Girl, with your nose in a textbook. And I just stood by the door, staring at you. Your face… those enormous eyes hiding behind your glasses. I had never seen anyone that was such a combination of sexy and vulnerable. I didn’t know whether to wrap you in cotton wool or shag you!’

‘David!’ She batted his chest, laughing.

‘It’s true! I fell for you hook, line and sinker. And that was that. I knew you were the one.’

‘Proper love,’ she whispered.

‘Yes, proper love.’ He kissed her scalp, then slid down the bed until they were nose to nose and kissed her again, hungrily, on the mouth. The two held each other fast as they celebrated their deep love in the way they had been doing since university, the main difference being that now they weren’t squashed into a single bed whose fitted sheet kept escaping from one corner, and they kept the noise down not so he wouldn’t be found out, illicitly staying over in the girls’ hall, but so as not to wake their little girl.

Skin to skin they lay, arms and legs entwined. ‘That was lovely.’ She kissed the base of his throat, enjoying the flames of satisfaction and contentment that flickered inside her.

‘It was,’ he breathed. It felt good to lie there, still in each other’s arms, without an alarm or a chore, just enjoying the now. ‘I knew from the first time I stayed in your room that I would do anything you ever asked me.’ He smiled.

‘Well, if I’d known that, I’d have made you get up and get me tea!’ she quipped.

‘I would gladly have made you tea, even though I don’t think you owned any mugs other than the one with your toothbrush in.’

‘That’s probably right.’ She chuckled, picturing the chipped mug on the side of the sink with dried toothpaste and a paperclip in the bottom. It was always lovely to share the details of those days, a reminder that they were bound by their history. It made her feel secure.

She sensed his sudden hesitation and waited for him to speak.

‘And I still would, you know, Rom. I’d do anything you asked me, including make you tea, anything, if I thought it would make you happy. I’d move, have another baby, change my job, anything, anything to make us work, and to ensure that we keep working in the future.’

Romilly shrugged her arms free and scooted across the mattress to her pillows. ‘I get the feeling you’re saying that because you want to ask
me
to do something,’ she whispered. ‘You know, like, “Ooh, Celeste, Daddy really wants to try some eye drops, but he can’t because they’re yours! Do
you
want to try them now?”’ She smiled at the memory.

David propped his head on his crooked arm and gazed at his wife. He looked close to tears. ‘I love you.’

His expression removed any trace of her smile. ‘I love you too. But that sounds very much like question avoidance.’
Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me, David.

‘You’re right, I do want to ask you something.’ He licked his dry lips.

Romilly reached for her glasses and popped them on as though what might come next required her full focus.

‘I… I want you to stop drinking. I want you to give up booze completely for a month. That’s all. Just a month.’ He patted the mattress.

‘Why a month?’

‘To see how you feel, to make you think about how much you do actually drink and…’

‘And what?’

‘I guess to see if you can.’ He snatched at a loose thread on their bed sheet.

Romilly pulled her knees up and placed her head on them. Her tears were swift to find release; her breath came in shallow pants. ‘David… David…’ It sounded like she was begging.

‘Come on. Come on now, don’t cry!’ He coaxed her from the bed. ‘Let’s go get that cup of tea.’ He kissed her face and they shoved their arms into dressing gowns and stumbled downstairs.

They ended up on the sofa. The only light came from the moon that flooded through the sitting room window. Romilly sat crying, facing David side on, her feet under his dressing gown, resting against his thigh. Half an hour passed in which she sniffed and he sat in silence, waiting for her to speak. Eventually she dried her tears, blew her nose and began.

‘Can I have that cup of tea?’ she whimpered.

‘Course. You stay here.’ He sprang from the sofa, placed the grey faux-fur throw over her toes and left her alone for five minutes.

She cast her eyes over their sitting room. Interior design had never been her thing, but what they had achieved was comfortable, if a little predictable. She had selected items from catalogues and room sets and simply copied the way the sofas, mirrors and lamps had been arranged. It was only when she went inside houses like Sara’s, where there was a vivid splash of colour, a feature piece of art or a clever idea to use space, that she realised just how safe their decor was.

David sat back down, handing her a large mug with a bumblebee on it, her favourite, which she held gratefully between her palms.

‘Shall I put a lamp on?’ he asked, his voice soft.

‘No.’ Romilly knew that it would be easier to be honest without being able to fully see his expression.

‘Are you warm enough?’

‘Yes, thanks.’ She stroked the throw. His desire to make her as comfortable as possible still surprised and reassured her. They sipped their tea until Romilly found her voice in the half-light.

‘I remember when the twins were born. I was only little, but I felt this huge shift in my world, and I couldn’t explain why, I didn’t really have the words. But I felt… I felt spare, like my parents had finally got the babies they desired and I was just… spare. I know that if the twins had come first, they would never have had me. I heard my mum say that to Aunty Di once.’

‘Oh, people say all sorts, especially when they’re run ragged and their kids are babies. And you know what your mum’s like, she lets her mouth run away while her brain is still catching up. Your parents love you, they always have. They’re so proud of you!’ He squinted at her, trying to find the relevance.

‘I know they are, but I also know how I felt. Maybe I’m not describing it properly, but I didn’t feel like anyone really, truly wanted me, not until I found you. And you wanted me and yet you were perfect. You are perfect, and I felt like, at any moment, you’d see that I was just very average and dump me for someone less ordinary.’

‘I love you, I always have and you are completely extraordinary.’

She flexed her toes against his skin.

‘Do you still feel like that, Rom, that I might dump you?’ he asked softly.

‘A bit,’ she whispered. ‘Yes. Sometimes.’

David shook his head. It was a wee while until he spoke. ‘I try every day to make you feel valued. I always have.’

‘I know, I know, and you do.’ She briefly laid her hand on his arm. ‘I just can’t help it.’

‘It makes me feel like shit that I can’t show you how I feel, that you don’t have faith in us.’

‘I do. I do have faith in us… It’s just…’

‘Just what?’

‘It’s not you, it’s me—’

‘Did you really just say that?’ David felt the beginnings of a smile on his lips. He reached over and pulled her towards him. ‘Oh, my beautiful Rom. My Bug Girl.’

She laid her head on his shoulder.

‘You are a complex puzzle to me, Rom, you always have been and it’s one of the reasons I love you so much. I love that I have always had to try and figure you out.’

She wasn’t sure she wanted to be a complex puzzle but nuzzled against him anyway.

‘But I’m a bit worried about you, a bit worried about us,’ he continued as her heart skipped a beat. ‘You’ve always come alive, become more confident after a glass of plonk and we’ve had some crazy, crazy nights, haven’t we?’ He laughed and kissed her scalp.

Romilly thought back to the evening at Zazu’s Kitchen on the Gloucester Road that had felt like a party. Dinner and drinks had ended with tables being pushed against the wall and the whole room chatting and singing like they were all friends, spurred on by the liberal measures of wine and her uninhibited desire for everyone to raise their glasses in communal toasts. And then there’d been that time at the Harbour Festival when she’d become separated from the group and they’d found her trying to skateboard in front of the Lloyds Amphitheatre with a bemused gang of teenagers, who clearly hadn’t known what to make of the drunk woman in the floral frock with skinned knees.

‘But it seems to have become more than just a way to loosen up on a night out, hasn’t it? Is that a fair comment?’

She nodded.

‘And the thing is, Rom, I know it’s a problem or at least becoming a problem, because I don’t mention it, I feel I can’t mention it. I’m scared to. You know, like when someone’s fat and you can’t use the word fat in front of them, which means you know they’ve become fat.’

‘Like Jay…’ She smiled.

They laughed, thinking of their friend who had swapped his evening run for pizza eating and PlayStationing and had ballooned.

‘Yep, like Jay. I can no longer make fatty jokes at his expense because it’s too near the mark, too real.’

She looked at her husband, all too conscious that he didn’t really want to talk about Jay or his weight. ‘So what word can’t you say in front of me?’ She bit her lip.

He shrugged, which told her all she needed to know.

She pulled free from his hold and sat on the sofa with her legs crossed on the cushion, watching him. ‘I drink more than I tell you.’

He nodded, his eyes downcast, as if this wasn’t news.

‘I… I drink when I find a situation stressful, or if I feel nervous or anxious.’

‘Do you often feel nervous or anxious?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded.

‘Do you feel like a drink now?’ he asked, holding her gaze.

‘Yes.’

He massaged her left foot with his thumb. ‘Has it got stronger over time, your desire to have one?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded again.

‘I mean, at uni you always came out of your shell when you drank, and it was a laugh. You seemed to bloom when you were a bit pissed. And I suppose if I’m being completely honest—’

‘I need you to be,’ she interrupted.

‘If I’m being completely honest,’ he continued, ‘I’ve enjoyed seeing you like that. Fun and more confident, adventurous in every sense.’ He smiled at her and squeezed her toes. ‘But since we’ve had Celeste… I don’t know, something’s changed and I find myself wishing you wouldn’t drink. It’s not funny any more.’

His words were like tiny swords that further hacked at her self-esteem. She felt small and useless.
I don’t want you to think less of me. I want to be a good mum to Celeste.

‘Do you…’ he swallowed, ‘do you drink every day?’ he whispered.

‘Yes.’ Her response was barely audible.

‘How much have you drunk today?’ He hardly dared ask. She heard the waver in his voice.

There was a pause. She considered how much to tell him, wanting to exorcise the secrets that hovered in her mouth but feeling a deep shame at her weakness, her greed.

‘I’ve had a bottle of wine and three bottles of beer,’ she managed through a fresh bout of tears. She could tell by the way he shrank back against the cushions that he was shocked.

‘You’ve drunk that today? While you were here on your own?’

She guessed he wanted Sara to be implicated so he could blame her, offload some of the responsibility onto her.

She nodded.

‘I see.’ It was all he could think of. ‘Do you
want
to stop drinking every day?’

‘I do, I do, but I love it. I really like drinking and it makes everything feel better.’

‘But that’s the trick, isn’t it. It only feels like it’s making things better, whereas actually it’s making things worse, creating a whole other set of problems. I know you know this, Rom. You’re smart.’

‘That’s me, smart.’ She gave a wry smile.

‘Let’s do what I suggested, let’s try for a month and see how we go. Do you think we should get some help? Go to the doctor or find a therapist? I don’t really know how this works or what’s best.’ He looked at her with a lost expression that she could hardly bear to see.

‘No. No.’ She was emphatic. ‘I don’t want to get anyone else involved. I really don’t. I can do this. I know I can. I just need to be strong and stay in and not be in charge of the shopping and little things like that.’

‘Okay, if you think that’s best. Why don’t we get Holly to come and stay? She’s back from Ibiza for six weeks and I bet she’d love to spend time with you and Celeste.’

‘You mean so she can babysit me, keep the gin under lock and key and report on progress?’ Romilly gave a weak smile.

‘Yes. That’s exactly it. I’m worried that if you’re here alone or I’m not back from work or if anyone should come over who’s a bad influence on you…’ They exchanged a look. ‘You wouldn’t be able to resist.’

‘Okay.’ She nodded.

‘We can do this if we’re completely honest with each other. It’s all about communication. You need to tell me how you’re feeling, and if there’s anything I can do at any point to take the edge off or help you, then I will. We’re a team, me and you, okay? A team. A team without secrets.’

David sat forward and cradled her to him as she cried.

‘A team without secrets,’ she repeated, closing her eyes and feeling swamped with guilt at what she wasn’t telling him. Firstly, that she had actually drunk two bottles of wine and three bottles of beer that day. And secondly, that from simply talking about it, she was now desperate, desperate for a drink and could think about little else other than the bottle of wine that was nestled inside a wellington boot in the cupboard under the stairs. It was as if it was calling to her.