My Husband's Wife (26 page)

Rosie stared at him. At first she thought he might be joking, but his enthusiasm for the syllabus soon convinced her otherwise. A small laugh escaped her mouth. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ She tittered again, as much through nerves as anything else.

‘No. The London house is incredible. Every bedroom has its own bathroom and there’s a huge kitchen and a den and you can walk to everything – restaurants, cinema, the Tube, the supermarket.’

She looked at the man that she was having difficulty recognising, a man who now went to restaurants and said ‘the Tube’ instead of ‘the Underground’ like he used to. ‘Well, that must make you happy. I know you were getting quite fretful over not living near a supermarket not so long ago.’

He ignored her. ‘The point is that the school is only a short stroll away as well.’

‘No, Phil.’ She cut him short. ‘The point is that this school is not a short stroll away. It’s in London and my children live with me in Woolacombe, so it’s a pointless conversation.’ She hoped that would be the end of it, hoped he didn’t detect the naked fear in her eyes.

‘We are having a baby, Rosie.’

‘I had noticed.’ Mo’s matinee-jacket conversation leapt into her mind.

‘And we think it’s important that the girls are involved. We don’t want them to feel left out or rejected in any way.’

Again she laughed.

Phil continued. ‘We think it might be an idea for them to stay with us in London during term time and attend Glencote. They have so much time off, literally six months, so it would be a neat split, and the education they’d get is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.’

She stared at him. She could hear the words he was saying, but it was as if he was speaking a foreign language. They made no sense. Rosie cocked her head to one side. ‘Are you mad?’

‘What?’

‘Do you actually think I’d contemplate for one second letting the girls go and live away from me for a week, let alone half the year?’ Her anger intensified. ‘Have you actually lost the plot?’

‘I think it’s a good idea. I’m their dad and I want to see them more than the odd weekend.’

‘Well, you should have thought about that!’

He sighed, raised his palms and patted the air as if there was an invisible table in front of him. ‘I’ve taken legal advice and we’d have joint custody, which would mean dividing their time equally. It makes sense to give them this opportunity.’

‘Legal advice...’ she whispered. She could barely afford a cup of coffee in a café any more, let alone legal advice. Her legs began to shake.

He looked at her as though she was being unreasonable. ‘I think you need to get over the idea that you can and should punish me because things didn’t work out the way you wanted them to. It’s selfish. You need to start thinking about what’s in the best interests of the girls.’

That’s me: selfish...

His words sounded professional, rehearsed.

She held her nerve. ‘I only ever think about what is best for them! How dare you! They are the first and last things I consider with every decision I make. And if you think you can bully me, take them away...’ Her voice cracked. ‘...you can’t. Because I’m their mum and I won’t let you. Do you understand me?’

Phil pulled his keys from his pocket, clearly preparing to leave in the dramatic manner that was now his preference. ‘It’s not up to you, Rosie. It’s the law.’ And he was gone.

Rosie sank down into a kitchen chair as the strength left her legs.

‘What’s for tea, Mum?’ Leona asked from the doorway, twirling her long hair around her fingers.

Just the sight of Leo was enough to cause Rosie’s tears to pool. The idea of her little girl being away from her was unthinkable.

*

After dropping the girls at school the next day, Rosie made her way up to Mo and Keith’s. It was time to try and make good her last awkward visit and she was also hoping to find an ally. She desperately needed to talk to someone.

Mo was in the yard. Resplendent in wellington boots and Keith’s old navy-blue overalls, she was scrubbing chicken poo off the coop frame with a stiff broom. ‘I get all the glamorous jobs!’ she called as she waved at Rosie. Then she strode over, broom in hand, to hug her daughter-in-law.

‘So I see.’ Rosie smiled, relieved at the sincerity of the welcome. A small part of her wondered if Gerri would receive a similarly warm greeting and secretly hoped that she wouldn’t.

‘I’m glad you came over.’ Mo released her and took a small step backwards. ‘I wanted to say—’

‘It’s okay, Mo, I understand.’ She didn’t want to hear the many variants of apology or explanation as to why and how Mo was torn between Phil’s old and new life.

‘He’s my son, Rosie. My boy.’ She swiped at the ground with the brush. ‘And I know you understand what that means because you’re a mum too.’

Rosie nodded. The message was clear: she’d choose him every time. Ironically, and no matter how much it hurt, she
did
understand. ‘Has Phil mentioned to you this whole school thing?’

Mo nodded. ‘Yes. Yes he has. They showed me the prospectus.’

Rosie stalled, trying to quell her rising fear. ‘I don’t... I don’t see how it’s even up for discussion. It’s crazy! As if they’d go and live in
London
for half the year! It’s not going to happen.’

Mo sighed and leant on the long brush handle. ‘I don’t know what to say. But I do know that, despite everything, Phil is a good dad. He always has been and I can see that it would be wrong not to let him have an equal role in their upbringing.’

Rosie stared at her mother-in-law; this was beginning to sound like she supported the absurd suggestion.

Mo continued. ‘And if you take all the emotion out of it, it looks like a really wonderful prospect for them. To have a first-class education, all those opportunities that they wouldn’t get here.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s food for thought.’

‘So you’d be happy, would you, having them living hundreds of miles away, seeing them only occasionally?’

‘No. No, I wouldn’t. I’d miss them dreadfully, but as I said, I was trying to take the emotion away and look at it practically. And I can see that it would be a great thing for them. I worry about the kids’ future.’

‘You think I don’t?’

‘No, I know you do and that’s the only reason this feels worth considering. They’d have all the chances that we never did and that’s all I’m saying.’

‘I can’t even think about it, Mo. There is no way on God’s earth I am going to be separated from my girls. No way!’ She turned down her mouth, jutted out her chin and shook her head to emphasise the point. ‘Would you have let Phil and Kev go?’

Mo looked past her towards the coast. ‘I can’t picture it, no. But then things are different for you two: you’re not living together and that changes everything. Phil might have done well in a school like that, and Kev, well, he’s so clever, he did well enough, didn’t he? But if he’d had those opportunities, those connections, who knows what he could have done?’

Rosie felt her calmness evaporating. ‘Well, I can’t do it. I won’t. I need them with me. I didn’t have kids so someone else could tuck them in and cook their tea. I don’t want to miss a single second of their growing up and I won’t. And that’s that.’ She squeezed the car keys in her hand until they bit into her palm.

‘I understand, Rosie, but as hard as it is, it’s not only about what you want. I think the girls would thank you for letting them spend half their time with their dad. It makes it fair and I think an education is the greatest gift you can give.’

Rosie turned to leave. She spoke over her shoulder as she made for the car. ‘Trust me, Mo, there is nothing fair about any of this. And, actually, an education is not the greatest thing you can have; a mum is. I should know, I never had either and I know which I’d have preferred.’

*

Rosie tackled the next few days at maximum speed. She was a human hurricane of activity because she knew that if she were to stop for just a minute, if she were to pay heed to the thoughts and sirens that whirred in her mind, she’d risk going mad. She hiked in and out of town for the smallest of reasons – to post a letter, fetch a pint of milk or take the carrier bags to the recycling bin, all tasks that could just as easily have been done on the way to or from school. When there were no chores left, she began her cleaning routine again, emptying, scouring and reorganising the kitchen cupboards, scrubbing the wainscot in the hallway, even taking an old toothbrush to the insides of the window frames. The only way for her to sleep at night was to be so physically exhausted that her mind had little option but to switch off.

Friday evening arrived quickly. She sat on the sofa, with Naomi on the floor in front of her, and brushed her daughter’s hair.

‘You’re hurting me!’ Naomi wailed.

‘No, I’m not. And if you let me brush it properly more often, we wouldn’t have this rigmarole. Long, thick hair needs looking after or it gets tangly, you know that.’ She continued wielding the brush in long strokes, her deft fingers clamped over the roots to minimise any tugging.

Leona turned from in front of the TV and smiled at her sister’s discomfort.

‘You can smile, Miss Leo, but you’re next!’ Her littlest daughter stopped smiling.

A little while later, Phil arrived to collect the girls. He hovered on the pavement. Rosie left the front door wide and wondered at his hesitancy. It was only when she took the girls’ bags out to him that she saw the shock of blonde hair in the front seat of the Range Rover. Phil’s eyes looked from left to right as he blinked rapidly. He was nervous. She guessed he’d told his pregnant girlfriend that he conducted all his family business on the pavement and didn’t want to shatter that illusion. The coward.

‘I’ll bring them back on Sunday at the usual time, okay? Mid afternoon.’ He addressed the ground.

Rosie nodded and looked towards Gerri, who stared ahead, determinedly unseeing but clearly not uncaring about what was happening over her shoulder. Phil lifted the tailgate, stashed the two rucksacks in the boot and opened the rear door. Rosie kissed her girls and stood back slightly but was still able to hear Gerri’s greeting as her children clambered into the back seat.

‘Here are my gorgeous girls! Who wants to have some fun?’ she sang.

Rosie shrank back against the wall, unable to wave, unable to move.
They are not your girls! They are not...
She felt worn out. As the hard work of the past week caught up with her and Gerri’s words echoed in her ears, her gut twisted in anguish and her tears fell. She had no one to turn to. Not Phil, not Mel, not even Mo. And as for her own mum... With the prospect of losing the girls now becoming scarily real, it was harder than ever to understand Laurel’s departure. ‘I miss you, Mum. I miss you so much.’ She spoke aloud to the smiling mother of her childhood, ignoring the letter of rejection that sat in the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

Later that evening, Rosie sat on the sofa and drank two large glasses of wine. The bottle had been nestling in the cupboard under the sink for an age and tonight it was just what she needed. She didn’t bother chilling it but instead just glugged it down, hoping for the desired effect sooner rather than later.

Her phone buzzed. Mo. She closed her eyes and took the call.

‘Hey, Mo.’ It was hard to disguise her downbeat mood.

‘Wrong again.’ Kev laughed.

‘Kev!’ She smiled. ‘You need to stop using your mum’s phone.’

‘And you need to be more pleased to hear from me.’

‘I am! Are you home?’

‘No. Yet again, I got Mum to send her phone to—’

‘I get it. Shut up. You’re home. It’s good to hear your voice.’ She whimpered as she spoke.

‘For God’s sake, are you
still
crying? How is that even possible? I’m surprised the drains of north Devon aren’t overflowing. Who knew the human body could make this much water?’

Rosie sniffed. ‘I’m just having a bit of a shit week.’

‘Bench time?’

She looked out of the window at the cold November night. ‘It’s bloody freezing!’

‘So?’ he shouted. ‘What are you, a lightweight? In fact, don’t bother answering that. I know the answer.’

‘Can’t you just come here? I’ve got wine.’ She held up the inch or two that was left sloshing around in the bottle.

‘Oh well, if you’ve got wine! Why didn’t you say so?’ he gushed sarcastically. ‘This is like when Mum and Dad went away and we blew the weekly food budget on marshmallows and vodka and you were sick in dad’s coolbox.’

She laughed. ‘I haven’t drunk vodka or eaten a marshmallow since that day.’ She grimaced at the memory.

‘I told you you were a lightweight. Shall I come over then?’

She tutted. ‘Yes! Come over.’ As if there could be any other answer.

Opening the front door minutes later, she stood back to let her friend in. He was dressed for a more tropical climate, in jeans and a thin white T-shirt.

‘Aren’t you cold?’ She shivered in sympathy.

‘Yes.’ He nodded.

‘Your hair’s grown.’ She noted that, and his deep, dark tan.

‘It keeps doing that.’ He nodded. ‘And you’re shrinking! Where are all your curves? I could snap you like a stick!’ He pinched her shoulder.

‘Ow!’ She punched his ribs in retaliation. ‘So, how’s life in your new location?’

‘It’s...’ He tried to think of the word. ‘...perfect!’

‘So, paradise found?’

‘Yes, for now, and that’s all you can ask for, isn’t it?’

‘I guess. It’s so good to see you! And you’re staying till Christmas?’

‘That’s the plan.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You look great. Still a bit sadder than I would have hoped...’ He let this hang.

‘Well, the good news is, I’m not so sad about Phil any more. I mean, still sad, but I’ve turned a corner.’

‘That’s good to hear. The baby news was a bit of a shocker.’

‘You think?’ She sighed. ‘To be honest, I haven’t even thought about that for a while. I’ve got bigger things to fill my head.’

He followed her into the sitting room.

‘Urgh, what’s that smell?’ He sniffed the air.

‘They’re my scented candles. Apple flavoured – I love them. Phil hated them.’