Between You and Me (6 page)

‘Thank you, Sal – you’re too kind. I’m not as strong as I used to be. And Charlie’s at home, you say? Well, that’s just lovely – that one works too hard for you all, you know. You’re lucky to have someone that looks out for you so well.’ Mrs Wilson gives a little laugh, and we start to head back towards home. We make small talk as we walk, Mrs Wilson telling me all about how her eldest son has relocated to Australia, taking the grandchildren with him. There is an air of sadness about her as she tells me about their farewell party, and I feel slightly sorry for her. You don’t have the time of day for her, but I worry that she gets lonely, sitting indoors by herself, waiting for the phone to ring. I try my hardest to pop in on her when I can, just to check she’s all right. Reaching her doorstep, I carry her shopping through for her and gratefully accept a quick cup of tea.

‘Thank you, Sal.’ Mrs Wilson hands me a steaming cup of strong, brown tea. ‘You’re a gem – and Maggie is a little dote. You’re lucky; you have the perfect family. Make the most of it – they grow up too quickly.’ I give her a small smile and look down at my cup. Perfect? I’m not too sure about that.

An hour later, as Maggie and I come strolling down our street, swinging our hands together and occasionally jumping over the cracks in the pavement, I realise you are outside in our front garden, talking to Laura. Usually I wouldn’t worry too much, but following on from yesterday’s illicit trip to the beach, which I was too ashamed to tell Laura should be kept secret, my heart starts to beat a little faster, and I feel hot and clammy.

‘Everything OK?’ I try a wobbly smile in your direction.

‘Of course, you silly thing, why wouldn’t it be?’ You squeeze my shoulder affectionately. ‘Laura was just telling me about your little trip yesterday. I’m not surprised you didn’t mention it, after being so tired yesterday evening.’

‘Oh, yes. We didn’t go out for too long, just to get the kids some fresh air, that’s all. I meant to tell you but … well, I was asleep when you came in.’

‘You’re lucky, Laura. Sal’s been extremely busy this week, haven’t you, Sal? Indoors all week, making the most of being home with Maggie, I should think, before school starts. I’m surprised Sal could find the time to spend a whole day out!’ You put your arm around me proprietarily, clutching me ever so slightly too tightly.

Laura flicks her eyes towards me, almost an apology, as she obviously didn’t realise I hadn’t told you we’d been out.

‘Well, Charlie, I realise that. I haven’t seen Sal or Maggie all week – unusual since you live next door, eh? I almost thought you guys were avoiding me!’ Laura gives a little laugh, and Charlie joins in. Despite the supposed hilarity, you could cut the air with a knife.

‘Of course not, Laura. You’re our neighbour, aren’t you? You must come over for dinner soon. I know this lovely chap at work – he’d be perfect for you.’

‘In all honesty, Charlie, I’m not really looking, but I appreciate the offer. Dinner would be nice. Sal, I’ll catch up with you in the week, OK? We can make an arrangement for dinner then.’ Laura turns to go back into the house and, feeling awkward, I face you, unsure of exactly what I’m going to find. Maggie runs into the house, intent on carrying out whatever game she’s cooked up on the way home. You stare at me, eyes cold like chips of blue ice.

‘Get indoors, Sal. That chicken will be getting cold.’

Chapter Twelve

CHARLIE

To say that I’m furious is an understatement. Sal’s deceitfulness and constant lies are ruining our relationship. I find myself feeling more and more wound up all the time and it’s all Sal’s fault. How difficult can it be to just be honest? I don’t feel like I can trust anything Sal says and it’s just adding to the pressure I’m already under at the office.

When Sal and Maggie leave to go to the park, I decide I’ve had enough of sitting around and head out to the driveway – my pride and joy sits on the drive, gleaming, looking more beautiful than anything else I’ve ever owned. A 2014 BMW X5, black and sleek. Practical in that it has five seats (to keep Sal happy, though God knows we are definitely not going to have any more children, no matter how much Sal bitches about it) and expensive enough to keep me happy.

Growing up we had very little in our family. My stepdad was a hard worker who kept my mum at home so she could look after me, but for all his hard work we still went without, as my dad thought nothing of spending all his wages in the pub on a Friday night, leaving us with nothing for the week ahead. He was partial to a whisky and woe betide anyone who tried to stop him. He was a hard bastard, who ruled our house with an iron fist. I swore blind from when I was a child that I would
never
go without, once I was an adult. This car is my testimony to that – Sal has to drive it through the week and I keep an eye on the mileage, but at weekends she is my baby, for me to enjoy.

I unlock the driver’s door and peer in to see if Sal is keeping it as tidy as I have requested. Sal grew up in a family that had whatever they wanted and doesn’t seem to understand that things demand respect. Sal never had to wear clothes from a car-boot sale, or watch as all the other kids got to go on school trips. As I peep through into the back seats, something catches my eye on the floor. A baby’s bottle has rolled under the passenger seat and lies there; the tiny amount of milk left in it already turned curdled and sour. In the footwell, in front of the bottle, lies a sprinkling of sand. I feel my pulse start to race and the first feelings of anger spread through my body, leaving my face red and my fists clenched.
Sal lied to me AGAIN.
This is the only explanation – after promising to stay at home with Maggie yesterday, after not mentioning a single word about the fact that they may or may not have gone on a trip to the beach yesterday, the proof is lying in the footwell of my pride and joy. To add insult to injury, the fact that Sal couldn’t even be bothered to keep the bloody car clean just hammers home exactly how much respect Sal has for my possessions and for me.

Shaking with fury I march back into the house, powerless to stop the anger that courses through my body. There’s only one way to teach Sal the meaning of respect. There’s only one way to show Sal exactly how it feels when someone disrespects you and disrespects your things, the things that you’ve worked hard for and that you hold dear. I’ll make sure that the lesson about respect doesn’t get forgotten again, that’s for sure.

Chapter Thirteen

SAL

You usher me back towards the house, a rigid smile on your face all the while. Feeling a little off balance, I pause for a moment before I open the front door and hold it open while trying to juggle the shopping bags. You sweep in ahead of me, leaving me to close the door one-handed. Following you through to the kitchen, I start to put the shopping away, all the time a sense of unease growing inside me.

‘You never mentioned that you and Maggie went to the beach yesterday.’ Your voice is like ice water dripping down my neck.

‘No, well, like I said outside, Charlie, I fell asleep before you even came home and then there wasn’t really a lot of time for talking before you went up to bed, was there?’ I feel my spine straighten, as I stand a little taller.
Do I really have to explain myself? Do I really have to tell Charlie every time I leave the house? Surely this is not the norm for most other couples?
I’m starting to feel as though I’m not sure how much more of this I can take – the constant accusations of lying, the permanent state of mistrust.

‘I just thought you might have mentioned it, that’s all. Seeing as you said you didn’t have any plans. You said you were going to stay home with Maggie all day, sorting the house and doing some gardening.’

‘Laura suggested it and I agreed; it would have been a waste of a day to stay indoors.’ I am determined not to back down on this one – I did nothing wrong, unless taking your daughter out to enjoy the sunshine is doing the wrong thing. ‘And Maggie enjoyed herself. She can’t stay home every day, just on the off-chance…’ I trail off. My little spark of courage has burnt out and I am worried about antagonising you further.

‘
Just on the off-chance?
Just on the off-chance of what exactly? That I might call and try to speak to my own child? That I might call to check and see if you’re OK? Going out with that tramp from next door is more important than building a home for your family, is it?’ Your eye twitches with that telltale tic, the one that prewarns me you’re about to lose your temper.

‘No, that’s not what I said! Charlie, you’re twisting my words, I never meant that; all I meant was that Maggie needs some stimulation – I can’t keep her home all the time; she’ll be going to school soon.’ I place the roasted chicken on a chopping board and turn to face you, desperate to calm the situation before things boil over.

‘Please, Charlie, let’s not make this into a big deal. I took Maggie to the beach with her friends, that’s all it was. It wasn’t an attempt to escape from here, not a chance to neglect my duties at home or to try and get away from you. You weren’t home and I wanted to do something nice for Maggie. Please don’t ruin what’s left of our weekend.’ I take your hands and kiss you gently. You take a deep breath and just as I brace myself for the start of another onslaught you smile.

‘OK. It’s not a problem.’

Confused by your quick change of mood, I give a small nod and drop your hands. I should have known that wouldn’t be end of it.

The afternoon passes in a pleasant haze of scorching hot sunshine and we agree to take Maggie up to the park for a picnic for lunch. We paddle in the stream that runs through the common, watching Maggie trying to catch the tiny sticklebacks that flit through the clear water. Holding hands, all three of us run through the fountains that spurt up from holes in the ground in random patterns, trying to make it through to the other side without getting soaked, before collapsing in a giggling heap on the grass. Lying on my back, with you laid next to me, I watch the clouds scudding past overhead, a gentle breeze lifting my curls and tickling my forehead. We used to do this all the time, before Maggie came along. Just wander down to the common, dragging a picnic basket between us, lying on the grass talking and swigging Prosecco that had gone warm in the sun because we always forgot to pack the ice blocks. We would spend hours planning our future and laughing at your hideous jokes – you have such a wicked sense of humour that you never fail to make me laugh; it’s just a shame we don’t see as much of it as we used to. This morning’s argument has faded into the distance, made almost a memory by the perfect events of this afternoon. I just wish that these moments, when we are relaxed and happy, with no tears or accusations of lies, were more frequent. When we are in these moments we are what we strive to be – the perfect family, a team with a bond that is unbreakable.

Zero stickleback, one ice cream and three hours later we head for home. Maggie, with the energy that only a four-year-old can have, runs ahead, while we stroll slowly along together, holding hands. Mrs Wilson spies us from her kitchen window and we both raise a hand to her. I feel content, and immensely relieved that this morning’s storm has passed. I managed to defuse the situation before you lost your temper – does this mean you’ll relax a bit more now? Maybe this means you’ll change and not get so angry so easily any more. I think how nice it would be if this afternoon were to mean a turning point in our relationship – maybe things will return to how they used to be between us, before we had Maggie and everything got a bit crazy. It would be worth hanging in there, through all the crazy stuff, if it just meant we could maybe get back to that.

‘Happy?’ you ask and I turn to you and smile. ‘You know what? I am. Today has been really, really lovely, hasn’t it? We should make an effort to do things like this more often.’ You smile and nod your agreement, and I am just so relieved that everything is OK.

‘Sal, I’m putting Maggie to bed – do you want to get us some dinner on?’ you shout down the stairs to me, a little while later. I smile and put the newspaper I’m reading to one side. You must really be making an effort to rein it all in, to make a change. Maybe this is the start of a new you, not just a new stage in the never-ending cycle that we usually live in. You very rarely put Maggie to bed, even on the evenings when you are home, preferring to let me deal with it all, saying you don’t have the patience for finding numerous stuffed toys, drinks of water, chapters of whatever book Maggie and I are reading together. I go into the kitchen and dig the chicken out from the fridge. Picking up the small wicker basket that we keep by the back door for collecting our spoils I head out the back door for the vegetable patch, ready to pick some salad to go alongside the chicken for our evening meal.

When I reach the vegetable patch I stop, my heart racing. My mouth hangs open in shock.
What the hell happened?
The gate that secures the patch is hanging off its hinges and the entire patch is destroyed. Every single thing I’ve grown from scratch with Maggie has been pulled from the earth and thrown into piles in every corner of the plot, so there is no chance of saving anything. This is not the work of rabbits, or of foxes; this can only have been done by a human being. And there is only one person who would know how badly something like this would hurt me. I should have known that an illicit day out at the beach wouldn’t go unpunished. I put the basket gently down and sink to my knees in the hard earth, stones and small rocks digging into my skin. Nothing has been spared, not a single tiny cherry tomato, all of which have been pulled from their plants and squashed underfoot. My heart breaks a little at the thought of all the hard work Maggie and I have put into our little patch.
Maggie.
She’s going to be devastated, especially as it’s now too late in the year for us to even try and fix things and grow something else.

A shadow falls in front of me and I look up to see you sneering down at me.

‘You didn’t actually think you could get away with it all, did you?’

‘What? Get away with
what?
Taking Maggie to the beach? Giving her a little bit of freedom from here? From you?’ I am so angry I am past caring about the consequences of losing my temper with you.