The Torn Up Marriage (10 page)

Sunday night, his black Audi slunk past the bay window and pulled up level with the front door. Time to face him again, to pause on the threshold of their house, see the children in, see him turn and go back to
her
. Brave steps, bold smile, turn the latch, open. Say hello, wave goodbye.

Charlotte is out of the car already. Michael helping Emily undo the straps on her car seat. Charlotte flies up the front path to Kate, buoyant, grinning. Emily walking slowly next to her dad, clutching her favourite Pink Pony toy to her with one hand, the other clinging tight to Michael’s. Her toddler face is too tight. Something is wrong.

Michael now at the steps and Emily so obviously doesn’t want to let his fingertips go. Kate holds back the feeling that she wants to punch his face right there, right now.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Everything okay?” Kate is sure something is up.

“Yep, fine.” This is the level of conversation they have now. Brief words, polite hellos, the transfer of essential information regarding the girls.

“Sure?” Kate’s not satisfied. But who is she to argue further? She’d just sound like the bitter old bag that she is.

“Yeah. They’ve had a nice weekend… Everything’s fine.” He’s careful not to mention Sophie. Emily is still there hanging close to his leg. He’s brushing his fingertips through her hair. Lottie has gone on in, busying herself somewhere.

“Oh, the midweek thing,” he started, “I don’t think that’s really working out, is it?”

It was something she’d wondered about herself. He’d been trying to see them in the week as well as at weekends, but it seemed such a rush on a Wednesday after school, when the girls were already tired.

“No, no… I don’t think it is really.”

“They seem tired from school, and by the time I get away from work it’s already getting late for them. Maybe in the holidays it might work better then.”

Emily moved even tighter to his leg, not saying a word.

“Look, I think we’d better discuss this some other time, hey?” Kate looked down at their youngest daughter.

“Ah yes, of course… maybe on the phone later.”

“Okay. Give me a call tomorrow or something.”

“I’d better be going anyhow. Bye Lottie,” he shouted down through the hallway. “Bye Emmie.” He began to gently peel her fingers off his trouser leg.

It was hard for Kate to watch. “Come on Em, I’ve bought you a fantastic new DVD.” She hadn’t wanted to fall into the buying-things-to-make-life-better-for-them habit. But now seemed a really good time to tell her about it: attention-diverting tactics.
So, he gets to buy new duvets, me the DVDs.

Emily had been prised away. Kate took her hand. “Bye, Michael.”

He looked awkward, a little sad. He bent down and gave Emily a quick kiss on the cheek, “See you soon, petal.”

“’Kay, Daddy.” Emily’s eyes were dull. There was a look Kate had never seen there before: sorrow. The realisation that this was the way things would be from now on. A two-year-old shouldn’t have that look.

“Bye.” Michael’s voice sounded broken. Kate closed the door.

The door of his old home closed against him. He was left on the no man’s land of the front step.

Michael let out a long sigh, ruffled his hair anxiously and turned to walk the few paces back along the path to his car. When had this all become so bloody complicated?
It’s your own fault
, his alter ego kicked in,
you had the affair.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt the girls; he hadn’t wanted it to work out this way. Seeing the pain in Emily’s eyes as he dropped her off just now, that was so hard. He was trying to make things the best he could for them in all this mess, and yet it still hurt them, didn’t it?
He
still hurt them.

And this weekend, sorting out their new bedroom at Sophie’s – it was meant to be a treat. It had all gone wrong. And he’d got grumpy with Emily – just for a second or two – there in the shop, when she wouldn’t make up her mind. He shouldn’t have done. She was only two, for God’s sake. He felt such a shit now. He’d said sorry straight away and Sophie had smoothed things over a bit, helping her to choose that butterfly set. Charlotte had been made up with hers. It wasn’t so bad really… Minor hiccups – probably quite normal in the circumstances, but why did he feel so crap?

He plonked himself into the driving seat, revved the engine, taking a last glance at the house, his house; they’d probably have to think about selling it at some point. Actually, what the hell was he thinking? That could wait. He had enough cash to live on, Sophie’s flat was fine. The girls had had enough disturbance and upset. He wasn’t going to take away their home, too. No, he’d done enough damage already.

He spotted Emily there, nose pressed against the lounge window, making it mist up. He grinned and waved exaggeratedly. Her wave back was small, fragile, her face showing the ghost of a smile. And he had to drive off. He felt the tug between them, that pain of parting. He’d call her and Charlotte tomorrow from the office, once they’d got in from school, chat about their day, arrange to see them soon.

It was a shame the Wednesdays weren’t working out; the girls seemed knackered after school, and there was only an hour or so to spend with them once he’d finished work before they needed to get to bed. They never seemed to settle properly midweek. Perhaps he could have the day with them this Saturday instead? It was Kate’s weekend, but she might be okay with it. And in the holidays they could work something else out.

It was after a supper of scrambled eggs on toast that Kate got to the bottom of it all. She was running a bath for the girls. The two of them seemed tired, grumpy with each other, no doubt had had a late night. Lottie was in the bathroom with Kate, peeling off her socks and trousers, Emily in the bedroom.

“Has anything happened with Em today, or over the weekend?” Kate tried to keep her tone light.

Her five-year-old merely raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

Kate persevered, “It’s just she’s been a bit quiet since she got home, not herself. I thought you might have known, that’s all, being the big sister and all that.”

“Well, she just didn’t get the covers she wanted. She was being silly about it in the shop. Daddy got a bit cross, that’s all.”

How dare he get cross? It was his bloody fault. They wouldn’t need new friggin’ duvets if they were all at home, where they were meant to be.

“They didn’t have the ones she wanted in the shop,” Lottie continued, “Daddy said she had to choose a different one. They didn’t have time to mess about.”

“Oh.”

“I got my Miss Kitty one. It’s lovely,” she smiled. “Then
she
said she wanted the same one as me. But that wasn’t fair. I chose it first.”

“Oh dear.” So even her sister had ganged up on her, or so it would have felt.

“What happened then?” Kate tried to keep an even tone. Emily was no doubt within ear’s reach somewhere, probably in the girls’ bedroom.

“They just chose her one then. Dad and Sophie did. It’s nice. It’s got butterflies on. I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” Five going on fifteen, yet Kate wondered how it would have all panned out if Miss Kitty hadn’t been in stock.

It was probably just normal childhood antics, but Kate had a nagging feeling that there was more to it than this.

“Okay, thanks for telling me, Lottie. You just stay here a sec.” She turned off the taps, checked the temperature with her wrist. “Don’t get in to the water till I’m back, okay.” She didn’t want any more dramas or damage. “Promise?”

“Promise. I’ll do my teeth first.”

“Good idea. I’ll just go see her… Oh, and make sure you do them twice.” That’d give her and Emily a little time, and ensure a good, thorough brushing.

Emily was lying on her bed, her face half turned to the wall.

“You okay, Em?” Kate laid a hand gently on her shoulder, as she sat down next to her.

Her little girl lay still, not turning her head.

“Lottie said you didn’t get the covers you wanted.” The small body seemed to stiffen. Kate brushed a hand through her fine, blonde hair. “Well, that’s a shame.”

Silence.

“Oh well, sometimes things don’t always work out, petal. What did you end up choosing?”

No answer. It hurt Kate to witness this silent pain. Then the small head turned slowly to her. The voice low, hushed, “Wanted the same ones.”

“Oh? The same as Lottie, Miss Kitty?”

“No, same as here. This one.” She snuffled into her Pink Princess covers. No wonder there weren’t any in the shop! They’d bought them over a year ago, when Emily had first moved into a proper bed.

And she knew then that Emily had wanted to keep it like home, to have that security around her, that reassurance. And it all fitted into place.

Kate gulped back the lump in her throat, “Oh, I see.” She continued stroking her daughter’s hair. “Yes, I know how you’d want the same, sweetheart. But the new one will be good, too. You’ll grow to like it, I’m sure. It’s just different… But you know, it can still be good.” And she found herself trying to persuade her two-and-a-half year-old to accept change, to be positive in the face of it, when all along all she wanted was to do herself was to cling to the past, too, to have them all back there together again, as it was before; just how a family should be.

Their dream was never meant to break.

Michael had driven back to the flat just five minutes away, parked on the side street, tried the door, which was locked, found his spare key in his wallet. Sophie must still be at the supermarket. He’d offered to cook supper, but she’d said she’d pick up the ingredients he needed whilst he took the girls back home. Much to his surprise, he’d discovered that he quite liked cooking, wondered why he’d never done much more than fish fingers and oven chips at home, on the odd night when Kate was out. But it had always been Kate’s domain, the kitchen off limits. He’d generally gone and watched television whilst she cooked. Tonight he was going to try a chicken curry from scratch, a Jamie Oliver recipe.

He made a coffee, felt wired, still haunted by the image of Emily’s sad face at the window, so put on a CD – Kings of Leon, turned it up LOUD, pounding out the thoughts in his brain. Until there was a thump, thump through the wall. Or was it a door banging? Of course, next door, they were in a bloody flat – thin walls. He’d better turn it down, better not upset the neighbours. He adjusted the volume shouted “Sorry” back through the wall, though he wasn’t sure if anyone would catch that.

It wasn’t long before Sophie got back, propping plastic bags on the breakfast bar, kissing his cheek as she passed. “Got everything bar the lemongrass, but I did find some Thai paste, so it’ll probably do.”

“Okay, thanks.” He didn’t feel much like chatting, just started pulling out the ingredients from the bags, checked the recipe and started chopping, the shallots stinging his eyes.

“Wine?”

“Yep, please.” He carried on prepping.

“Girls go off okay?”

“Yep.” He didn’t want to talk about it.

“You okay?”

“Yep.”

“Sure?” She tried to catch his gaze, but his head was down as he chopped up coriander leaves.

A second’s pause, then his voice a little steely, “Fine.”

“Okay then, there’s your wine,” She placed a glass of Sauvignon Blanc next to him on the work surface, left him alone. He heard the music turned down lower, the Kings of Leon drifting into a background drone.

He didn’t want to be off with her – it wasn’t her fault, was it? He just didn’t want to talk about it. He fried the Thai paste, added in some diced chicken and coconut milk. She came back through a few minutes later, out of her work clothes and in some kind of sexy grey loungewear. It had a deep V to the front neckline. She looked great. He managed a smile.

“Something smells good.”

“Thanks, look, I’m sorry…” his voice trailed.

“Oh, why?”

“Just then, I was a bit short. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s okay.” She sensed he still didn’t want to say too much.

He stirred the curry. “Oh shit, I forgot the rice.” He dashed to and fro opening cupboard doors. Couldn’t remember where any damn thing was kept. She opened the unit next to her and passed him out a saucepan. “This help?”

“Thanks.”

She took a seat at the breakfast bar, watched him cook. Their conversation minimal, but not really uncomfortable.

He still felt a little distant throughout the meal, though the food was good. He was impressed with his efforts. But there was this uneasiness within him, despite his apology to her, and his reasoning to himself; it’d get better, the girls would settle down with the new arrangements. It was early days. He’d give Kate a ring after dinner, check the girls were okay. But then they’d probably be in bed. He’d call them tomorrow, hear their sunny voices. They were still sunny most of the time. But it always felt a little empty putting the phone down on them, like a cloud casting over him.

He and Sophie made love later that evening. Her soft curves yielding beneath him, tangled in the double bed.

She’d surprised him after the meal, going down on him in the kitchen as he was helping to tidy up. He was stunned. Her mouth around him, the Thai flavours tingling there, arousing him instantly. Amazing! Nothing like taking your mind off things. He ought to cook more bloody often, if that was the effect it had on women!

Just the thought of it made his thrusts harder. Pounding away all those troubled thoughts, losing himself to her, to those last passionate pulses.

“Hi, Kate.”

“Hi.” She was tired, wondered what this would be about now.

“You said to ring… about the Wednesday thing.”

It was the next evening. The girls were in bed, hopefully asleep, they’d seemed shattered after their weekend away.

“Oh yes. Yes, it was just Emily was there last night listening to us at the door and she already seemed upset.”

“Yeah, I know, I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.” He paused. “How is Emmie? Did she settle after I’d gone?”

“It took a while. Em was really unsettled last night. What the hell’s gone on, Michael? Lottie said something about the duvet stuff. Did you say something to upset her?” She wasn’t going to let him get away with being irritable with her little girl.

“Yes, sorry. It was just really difficult there in the store.” He sounded uneasy. “We’d already been there half an hour and we just needed her to decide, but she wouldn’t.”

“I know that. She told me.
Finally
.” Should she tell him why? Or would it seem like she was being sour, rubbing it in. But he ought to know. He might be more sensitive with the girls in future. “And do you want to know why?” her voice was steely now, “How dare you get cross with her…? When all she’d wanted the same duvet cover as at home. She just wants stability, Michael. Something familiar in this shitty mess you’ve made.”
Like we all do.

“Oh. Oh I see, shit. I’m sorry.”

He sounded genuinely upset.
You should have thought of all this when you left us, prick.
“Anyway, Wednesdays,” she pulled the conversation back on track.

“Yes, well that’s been hard too, being a school night. The girls are tired, and by the time I’m home from work and they’ve had tea, that’s it, it’s already their bedtime.” He didn’t mention that they hadn’t been settling that well to sleep there yet, either, not wanting to alarm Kate further.

“Hmn, I see. And when they come home again,
I
get them cranky after school on the Thursday ‘cos they’re still tired. It’s not working, is it?” Yet she knew how much the girls wanted to see him, and weekends-only was a long time apart.

“Well, it might work in the holidays. Whit week’s coming up soon. And I could maybe take an extra day off here and there through the summer.”

Hah, well that was a turn up! Funny how he couldn’t find the time to do that when they had been all together. When she was struggling with a toddler and a baby at home, desperate for some help and adult company.
She felt the tension rising in her. “Well, I suppose, just as long as you make sure you really do it. I know what you get like with work sometimes.” She could see some client needing him, or a problem cropping up last minute. The stuff she used to smooth over for him.
Or
were those last-minute issues because he was starting this affair with Sophie? The thought shook her for a moment. Was all the work stuff a cover for his affair? When she’d been telling the girls Daddy was working really hard? But no, some of it was years ago, when he was setting up his marketing consultancy business, and sensible, middle-aged Mrs Allan, his previous secretary, was definitely there then.

That’s what it did to you, betrayal, made you doubt everything. Made you wonder where did the lies begin and end?

“Kate, are you there?”

She’d drifted away. “Yeah.”

“I was saying I’ll make sure I will take the time for them. Look, it’s not easy for me either, you know.”

You made your bed.

“Perhaps I could see them for the day this Saturday, then?” he continued, “If we’re not going to do the Wednesday thing.”

“Oh? I don’t know.” It was her turn to be with the girls. Having them there filled her days, made them more bearable.

“Sorry, I know it’s meant to be your weekend.” He sighed down the line. “Just for the day. Just this week. Ten till five, something like that.”

“Ah, I suppose. Alright. Just for this week, mind, and then we’ll have to set up something else up.” After all, she knew Emily was missing him already, asking when the next time she’d see Daddy was.

“Right, so that’s sorted, then, Saturday at ten.”

“Okay.”

“And I’ll ring and speak with them in the week, too. They do know they can ring me too, don’t they? Anytime… let them know that.”

“I will. Of course.” She wasn’t going to be obstructive. They needed their dad, too.

“Okay, thanks. Bye, then.”

“Bye.”

She clicked off the receiver. Wondered how Sophie felt listening to him talk to her. Was she there? Did she feel she had to leave the room? Did he go off outside with his mobile? Oh, what the hell did it matter? What did she care? He was with
her
. That was the crux of it. Kate suddenly felt exhausted.

She wandered upstairs, peeked around their bedroom door, all quiet, just the hush of breathing, the girls asleep. Kate headed back down and found the bottle of Merlot on the kitchen side, poured a large glass for herself. She curled up on the sofa, flicked the channels, settling on an old episode of
ER
. Let her mind drift and must have fallen asleep.

Aaagh, her left arm was all numb. Wasn’t working right at all. The room was dark. The blue haze of the telly still droning on there, but no other lights on. She went to get up. Shit. Her right leg buckled. She should have gone to bed properly. She sat for a few moments, letting her body revive, her leg at the pins-and-needles stage for a while, then reached for the remote and switched off the television. The room went eerily quiet. Her leg seemed to be working again, though numbly, so she trailed her way upstairs, crawled into the spare bed, and then couldn’t sleep for thinking about the girls and how all this was affecting them.

Tuesday morning. Kate knew what was needed. Black sacks. Lots of them.

He wasn’t coming back. She was certain of that. And she’d had enough of looking at his things still hanging around. She’d thrown away his toothbrush a few weeks ago, couldn’t stand it there next to her own in the chrome pot, but the rest of it, the clothes in the wardrobes, dirty running shoes by the door, the CDs, DVDs, they were still there, taunting her. He couldn’t be that worried about them if he’d left them here all this time.

Kate whizzed to the Co-op in the car and bought a large roll of black refuse bags. It was going to be done, and going to be done now. She was going to clear the rotten, cheating bastard out once and for all. The girls were at school, after an unsettled night. Kate had had to go in at two o’clock and settle Emily, who was having a bad dream.

No, this wasn’t a job to be done with them in the house. That wouldn’t be fair. They had enough to deal with. It was cruel to see how all this was affecting them. She’d tried so bloody hard to keep life as calm, as normal, as possible for them. A pipe dream, life couldn’t be tamed in that way, she realised now. How could it possibly be normal with their daddy no longer in their home? Did he have a clue about what he’d done? The impact on them? The selfish git. If only he’d thought of using his brain instead of his dick. Carrying on as though a day at the weekend seeing them was enough, with his bitch of a girlfriend there in tow. So, this was one thing the girls were not going to witness, the removal and disposal of his things.

Oh, yes, the bomb of the affair had gone off weeks ago now and here they were left trawling through the wreckage, trying to find the pieces of their old lives and rearrange them somehow.

She pulled back into the driveway and marched into the house. On a mission, but where to start? Small, maybe? The bathroom. Half-empty cans of deodorant, shaving foam, aftershave. She paused. It was the Armani aftershave bottle she’d bought him at Christmas. She stood and sniffed, closed her eyes. It took her back to nestling into the soft base of his neck, the smell of his shirt collar, the smell of him. Bugger! This was no good. No sniffing allowed. Just bin the damned thing. In it went, and more, a half-used Homer Simpson soap-on-a-rope the girls had chosen for his birthday. He’d taken some toiletries on his first few visits, grabbing some clothes, deodorant and the like embarrassedly, but these half-used things were still here. A bit like herself, she mused ironically. She snatched them up and plonked them into a bin bag, the first of many – this one for the dustbin.

It felt surprisingly good.

On to the bedroom. Socks, pants, t-shirts from his drawers. No more picking them up off the floor, no more having to wash them. And just think of all the space she could gain in the wardrobe. Oh, she might just have to go on a shopping spree in Newcastle, or maybe have a day in Edinburgh to start filling it again. Okay, shirts, ties, trousers, a couple of suits. She folded those reasonably neatly, though she’d love to just bung the whole lot in the trash, but she’d better keep them for him. The garage, that’d be a good place, then he could pick them up discreetly the next time he came, if he wanted. Another suit hanging there didn’t look like his usual work suits. It was black with the faintest pinstripe of grey. There was still a silk handkerchief in the top pocket in a dusky pink… the same shade as the bridesmaids’ dresses.

She froze. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t just shove it in the bag. Her eyes were stinging. It wasn’t meant to be like this. She was going to be strong. Get rid of it all. It’d be cathartic. Shit. Go on, one part of her mind was egging her on. It’s just a suit! Get it in the bag with the rest of them. But it was his wedding suit. He really did love you back then, you know he did. It’s all just got mixed up and confused, but he did love you once, wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. She chewed at a fingernail, sat down on the bed with a sigh, closed her eyes, then clenched her fists and punched the pillows. She got up and emptied the rest of the wardrobe of his things, leaving the suit there, half hidden by an evening dress of hers. It was just too soon for some things.

She was relieved to go downstairs and shove his CDs and DVD collection into a cardboard box, keeping a few of the ones she especially liked for herself. She considered the family photos on the mantelpiece, but left them as they were. That wouldn’t be fair on the girls. There was a wedding photo that she placed face down in the sideboard, however. The cheesy-smelling running shoes she found, plus some wellies and a couple of coats, which were lurking in the understairs cupboard; they filled another black sack. All she needed to do now was to take the whole lot out to the garage. Some of it was bulky, her arms were beginning to ache.

She piled six bags up against the side wall, where his car used to be, ready for him to collect. If he was being awkward or left them for too long after she’d told him, she would ring a charity shop, get the whole lot collected; that’d serve him right. All she needed to do now was to take the discarded toiletries out to the dustbin, then go and make herself a celebratory cup of tea.

She was just heading out the garage door, when a familiar voice stopped her.

“Hi. You okay there? I was just passing.”

She turned. It was Graeme from down the road. Damn, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her clearing out Michael’s stuff.

“Oh, hi Graeme.” She managed a polite smile.

“Everything okay?” His tone was sympathetic.

“Yep,” her voice was clipped. She was aware of the final black bag, heavy in her hand, desperate to dump it in the bin.

“How are things going? Umn, I heard about Michael,” he seemed a little awkward, shy maybe, “Well, I’m sorry about that.”

“Well, these things happen.” She tried to smile.

“Having a sort out?”

She nodded. “You could say that.”

“Michael’s things?” He eyed the pile of bags behind her, the one in her hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry or anything.”

“Yeah, is it that obvious?”

“Uh, huh. ‘Fraid so.”

“How did you guess?”

“The look on your face, for a start.”

“Ah, that obvious.”

“Remember, I’ve been there too.”

“Oh yes, sorry, so you have.” She settled the bag down to the ground. So, she wasn’t the only sad, bitter, lonely person in the world, then. No, she was sure she wasn’t. All those once-loved partners leaving, all those affairs, broken homes, broken hearts. Probably a whole trail of them across the globe.

“It’s probably a good thing, you doing that. It helps. A bit of a physical and mental de-clutter.” He smiled at her kindly.

“Thanks, I think.” She managed a small smile back. “Umn, well, would you like to come in for a coffee?” Something about him seemed to put her at ease. He was just being friendly, after all, and at least he had some understanding of how all this felt.

“No, no, but thanks. Perhaps another time,” he added. “I was just about to take the dog for a walk. She’s tied up there by the gate.”

“Oh.” Kate looked down the drive and there was Meggie spaniel, her brown tail wagging in anticipation.

“Can I take that bag to the bin for you as I go?” He nodded towards the black dustbin at the end of the drive.

“Umn, no. No, thanks. I think I’ll have the satisfaction of putting it in myself.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you about.”

“Yep.”

He turned to go, then paused, “If you need anything. Anything at all, please ask. I’m not that bad at DIY and the like. Or if you need anyone to keep an eye on the girls at short notice.”

She eyed him with an air of suspicion.

He sensed her unease, “I mean, if you’re ever stuck. But I’m sure you already have plenty of people to help. I have nieces, my sister’s girls, so I do have some idea. We could take Meggie for a walk, or something.”

“Well, maybe. Thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, Kate.”

“You too. And thanks, Graeme.”

He seemed a nice enough guy. She hadn’t seen or heard anything of him dating again, since splitting with his wife… maybe that’s what it did to you, being left, betrayal, made you bitter, unable to trust anyone. Left you afraid to love again.