Over You (38 page)
She’d have to try and retract it, beg him not to open it. She really
really
didn’t want him to read all that heartfelt rambling. It was too emotional, too much information. He’d be embarrassed – she already was – oh, it was just a complete non-starter.
With shaking fingers she typed a new heading: READ THIS ONE FIRST!, and tabbed down to the message area.
Rob – being a complete fuckwit, I have just sent you a message you weren’t supposed to see. Please, please, PLEASE don’t read it.
Josie xxx
She clicked the Send button – staring fiercely at the screen all the while – and sat back in her chair.
Your message has been sent. Add this name to your contacts?
God. He was going to think she was a complete nutter now. An utter loop-the-loop. She laughed, despite the awfulness of what she’d just done. Oh, well. She
was
a complete nutter, let’s face it.
She ate a couple more cherries, tart and juicy. The pile of stones next to the computer was growing bigger by the minute. Then she started a new message, hoping to redress the balance.
Hi again, Rob
You’re going to be so surprised when you check your emails and see three from me, aren’t you? Especially when only one of them – this one, I hope – is a proper letter. I’m feeling embarrassed about what a moron you must think I am, but am comforting myself with the thought that, in cyberspace, no one can see you blush.
Anyway! How are you? How are those lions? And how is it all going out there?
We are all right here. Almost into the summer holidays now which means the end of playgroup for the boys . . . sniff! . . . as they’ll start school in September. I know already there will be tears, and I don’t mean from them. And, with the two of them out of the house all day, I’ll have to reluctantly return to the real world and get a job. I quite fancy a career in
She stopped typing and paused to think. She and Pete hadn’t had the big money-chat yet but she knew it was coming. Maybe that’s why he’d been acting so friendly earlier, because he was building up to telling her she’d have to move out of the house. Perhaps he wanted to sell it, and claw back some of the capital to use as a deposit for a new flat. She had to be prepared. She had to have some kind of defence lined up. But what?
She backspaced over her last half-finished sentence. She didn’t know
what
she fancied doing, that was the problem. I’ve always worked in design, she typed.
But that was when we lived in London, before the boys were born, and I don’t want to have to commute there now we’re out in the ’burbs. I suppose the sensible thing to do would be to try and take on projects at home, set myself up as a freelance, but I don’t really have the contacts any more. Besides, a lot of what gets farmed out these days seems to be web design work, and I don’t have much experience of that.
A thought struck her, and she stopped typing. Nothing was stopping her from
learning
some web-design skills now, though. If the boys were out all day from September onwards, she could go on a course, get savvy with the latest software. She felt a rush of excitement at the thought. Why not? It would be a good direction to go in, something she could do from home, work around the boys . . .
Smiling, she put her fingers back on the keyboard. I’m going to look into taking a course, she typed. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? It would suit her down to the ground.
I think it’ll be quite fun to be a student once again, even if I won’t have the same social life this time around . . .
She finished the email quickly – there, she sounded perfectly normal this time, not bonkers at all – and winged it off. Then she went to a search engine to find herself a suitable part-time course.
This is where it all starts
, she told herself happily as the list of results came up. And yes! There was her local college in the listings.
This is how I’m going to get back on my feet.
The boys starting school was the end of a chapter in so many ways, the end of that precious time she’d had with them at home, but it was also a beginning. The beginning of the rest of her life. Maybe even the beginning of her recovery.
To:
JosieFrom:
RobDate:
20 JulySubject:
HiDear Josie
came the email a few days later.
First up, an apology. Our email access is a bit intermittent here (there is a shared computer at the healthcare centre that I can use but there isn’t always an internet connection) and for some reason your emails came through in the wrong order. So I didn’t get the ‘Read This One First’ email until late yesterday, having already read the other two. I’m
so
sorry – on two levels. One, that I (mistakenly) read all those private things you didn’t want me to know about. And two, that you had such a horrible time of it with Lisa. It must be a really tough one to get your head around, finding out about the affair, and about Rose too. I wish I could do something to help. When I’m back, we can talk properly, if you want. In the meantime, I’m thinking about you.It’s been pretty full-on here. Zambia is in a desperate state – one in five people is HIV-positive, and TB is rife. Sanitation is really basic where we are, and there’s limited electricity. And the roads are just appalling, so it’s difficult for the health workers to deliver drugs and other services to the local communities without wrecking their vehicles on a daily basis – which is where I come in. I’m in the workshop most of the time, trying to juggle the meagre equipment there is on woefully limited resources. I’ve got to say, for the first week, I felt pretty depressed, like, what can I possibly do for these people, when the situation seems beyond repair? But I’m getting on with it. It almost feels like cheating, though, coming here for just six months. Feel a bit guilty, that it’s not enough to make a difference.
The people are amazing, falling over themselves to be welcoming and friendly. I’m sharing a house with another volunteer, Michael, who’s working as a community nurse. We’ve both been invited to our manager Grace’s house for dinner this weekend – she keeps winding us up that she’s going to serve some truly Zambian delicacies for us: caterpillars and locusts. I’m not kidding either.
Have you found yourself a course, then? I think it sounds a good idea. I’ve always been partial to student life, probably because I’ve been putting off that ‘proper job’ experience for all this time. But I might actually have got something lined up for the New Year – I know, I know, bit unlike me, being sorted and having plans. Anyway, nothing definite yet, am waiting to hear, but January could see a few life changes for me too.
Better go – always worried that the PC here is going to die on me in the middle of a long email. I’ll write a proper letter next time, but wanted to email you straight back after reading yours.
Take care of yourself, Josie. Sorry things have been so tough.
Love Rob x
PS Am sending the boys a banknote each – 5,000 kwacha, not worth much – but they’ve got lion pictures on. Hope they are suitably impressed!
To:
RobFrom:
JosieDate:
2 AugustSubject:
Re: HiDear Rob
Thanks for your email. Hope the caterpillars were nice. I told the boys about that, and they were all for running out into the garden and trying some! I had to tell them quickly that English caterpillars are different to African ones, and make your willy drop off. I don’t think they believed me, but they weren’t taking any chances all the same.
Sorry it’s taken me a while to reply. We’re in a heat haze here at the moment, and it’s all I can do to lie on the sofa eating broad beans from the pod once the boys are in bed. The raspberries are in the shops, too – proper seasonal English ones, I mean, not ones freighted in from New Zealand or wherever. Sorry. Shouldn’t go on about yummy English summer food, should I, when you’re having to make do with caterpillars and locusts?
I’ve actually got loads to tell you! I’ve got a job! Don’t laugh, it’s nothing glamorous, and I won’t be power-dressing or carrying a BlackBerry any time soon. But I’ve been helping out at the boys’ playgroup recently, and a job came up there so I thought, Why not, might as well. It’s a lovely place, and it fits in perfectly with the boys’ school hours. I know it’s not much. Pete actually asked why the hell I wanted to work
there,
and wasn’t it a bit beneath me, but I’m not doing it for the money, or to look good on my CV. I’m doing it because I like being there. Plus, I’ve got to get some money in from somewhere. I can’t ask Pete to subsidize us for ever. (More to the point, I don’t want him to.)Second life change – I found a web-design course and have got a place. It’s been so long since I’ve applied for anything like that, I was half expecting a knock-back –
What, you? On our course? We don’t accept housewives, thanks very much, darlin’!
– but the fools have given me a place. I’m a bit excited, actually.Third life change – for the boys, really, not me. They’ve left playgroup and are in a weird pre-school limbo. They’re excited, but I think it’s a bit overwhelming, too. We went in to meet the teacher and look around the classroom before the summer term broke up, and I couldn’t help getting all emotional at the thought of my babies in school uniform . . .
Anyway. Sorry. Didn’t mean to get all mumsy on you. Not what you wanted to read about, I’m sure!
It sounds amazing, what you’re doing – so admirable. And I don’t think you should feel guilty, or as if you’re cheating, just staying for six months. No way. I think you’re
Josie broke off from typing. She was gushing, wasn’t she? I think you’re brilliant, she’d been about to write, but it was a bit much, probably. She backspaced over the last three words.
Take care. Write soon. Love Josie xx
PS The banknotes arrived – thank you. My sons both think you are a hero!
‘So remember to do everything your teacher tells you to, OK? And look after each other, won’t you?’ Josie sniffed. She couldn’t believe that the two boys standing in front of her in brand-new school uniform were actually her sons. The grey trousers, white shirts and navy-blue jumpers seemed to have added three years on to them overnight. ‘And be nice to the other children, and—’
‘Look, there’s Oliver!’ Sam said, interrupting. He waved excitedly as Annette and Oliver came through the school gates and towards the boys’ new classroom.
Josie was outside with a huddle of parents, all dropping their children off for their first morning at school. She was having to try really hard –
really
hard – to keep herself from going all mushy. It was the beginning of September, and the pre-school days were officially over. From here on in, her boys were in the system. Institutionalized. Just two blond heads in a room full of twenty-eight other children. God. It was heartbreaking!
The summer had flown by. She’d taken the boys to the Gower for a week, meeting up for a few days with Nell and Gareth, who seemed blissfully happy. Another time she, Toby and Sam had taken the train to London, doing the London Eye, the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum all in one exhausting day. They’d also spent a few days staying with her parents, which had been more than enough for all concerned.
Thanks to Pete, she’d squeezed in a second child-free weekend, too. This time she’d gone it alone, using the last of her savings to treat herself to a day out in London – visiting the latest Tate Modern exhibition, ambling around Covent Garden, watching the buskers with an extortionately priced sandwich and coffee, and then trying on lots of gorgeous clothes in the boutiques before sighing and returning them all to their hangers. The only treats she’d allowed herself had been a smart folder and some new pens and paper for college. She dithered enjoyably over what she wanted, feeling as if it were she who was going to school for the first time, not the boys.
And now suddenly it was September, and the whole look of her week was changing. Tomorrow, Tuesday, she’d have her first morning’s work at the playgroup, and again on Thursday. And from now on Wednesdays and Fridays would be her college days, as she got stuck into her web-design course. It was all so different So exciting. But she was so going to miss her sons!
Annette came over, immaculately dressed for work in her trouser suit and high-heeled boots, with a pair of dark glasses covering her eyes. ‘I’ve started already,’ she whispered to Josie, raising them above her nose so that Josie could see how bloodshot they were from crying. ‘I just feel so upset, I can’t believe it!’
Josie nodded. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said, blowing her nose.
Emma appeared then, with Clara and Millie. She looked agitated and out of breath. ‘Jose – I’ve just seen Pete,’ she gabbled. ‘At the office. He was asking where the reception classroom was.’
