The Torn Up Marriage (5 page)

Those early, easy years of passion, playfulness, friendship: just the two of them.

What had happened to them?

She stood with the border fork poised mid-air before she dug it deep into the earth, narrowly missing her toes. How could she have not known that things had changed so drastically? She’d been wrapped up in the girls, for sure. Being a mum took loads of energy. And they didn’t have so much time for each other as a couple, but wasn’t that normal, just family life? But surely she should have sensed something, seen some sign that her husband was cheating on her? Christ, did other people in their circle know about this? Was it common knowledge? And what the hell did it matter? He’d still have done it.

She sighed as she glanced across the garden, remembering last summer. Would Michael ever be back, sitting here with her, sharing a glass of wine and easy conversation, kicking a football around or splashing with the girls in the paddling pool with his trousers rolled up around his knees? Or would that all take place in some other garden now? Some other life? Not the one she’d imagined for them at all.

Kate glanced at the blackbird. It was brown, a female. It hopped under a shrub and regarded her, its eye black and bead-like, yet gentle. Did it have a nest somewhere? Kate wiped away a tear that came silently, smudging it with the cuff of her coat, adamant not to let the flow start again. The phone sat silently on the wall of the patio.

Ten to three. She’d go in and make a coffee before the girls were due back. She took the phone in with her, the plastic casing cold from being on the stone wall. As she got to the kitchen it rang.

“Hell-lo?”

“Kate…”
So this was it.

“Uh-huh.”

“Jesus,” he muttered, as if to himself, “This is so difficult.”

She remained quiet.

“I… Look, I’m going to come back after work.”

So he was staying after all?

“But just to collect some things,” he continued. “Just for now… I haven’t… I can’t make a final decision just like that. But I… I can’t come home and just pretend nothing has happened, either.”

Do you think I can? Do you think I can pretend nothing has happened?

“Are you going to her?”

A pause. Maybe he should just lie, but the truth seemed necessary. There had been too many lies. “Yes. I’m going to stay with Sophie.”

Kate gulped back tears. How could he sound so calm? How the hell was this happening? “Right… I see” But she didn’t see anything, A mass of jealous thoughts collided with her words. But how could she stop him? What could she say that would make him stay? She wasn’t going to beg, and she would never use their girls as a weapon, a bargaining tool.

“I’m sorry Kate, truly.”

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Michael.”

He paused, “I know… Look, I’ll see the girls when I’m there, before I go.”

“What will we say to them?” Panic gripped Kate. This was real. This was going to happen. Michael was leaving them.

“Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. Nothing’s definite yet… with us. I’ll think of something.”

“Okay.”

“See you later, then.”

She couldn’t speak. Held the phone, just staring at it in her palm until her hand went numb. Heard the click on the line as it was cut from his end.

He pulled into the driveway. This was going to be the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life. Pack a bag, kiss the girls a “goodbye for now” and walk away from his marriage.

His guts were already churning, but he couldn’t see any other way. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Sophie, hadn’t wanted to rip his marriage apart. But here he was. It had happened and he had to deal with it. It was his actions that had got them all to this point.

Michael took a deep breath as he pulled on the handbrake of his Audi saloon. The leather of the steering wheel was damp under his sweaty palms. He sat for a moment trying to compose himself. He wasn’t sure what he’d say. How to face Kate… and the girls? That would be the hardest. How did you do that? How did you walk away?

He’d make sure he’d see them often, be there for them, always. He hoped Kate would be fair. But he’d betrayed her, after all. He was the bad guy in all of this. And here he was about to change all their futures.

Could he really go through with this? But what was the alternative? Stay and pretend his marriage to Kate was fine. It would be harder than ever. He could imagine the constant digs about his affair, the distance that would create, the hurt in her eyes, nagging guilt in his soul and always the underlying thought of “what if?” What if he’d made a life with Sophie? What kind of life would that have been? A happier one, he was sure. Surely the girls deserved to see a loving relationship as they grew up, not a bitter, grudging one.

Come on, just get on with it
.

Michael opened the car door, stood out and walked up the path, every step a challenge. He put his key in the lock, as usual. He knew they were there from the bluish flickers of the television, the lights, the voices. He hadn’t needed to bring in his briefcase, felt empty-handed, had nothing to place in the hall. The girls scampered out, as always, “Dadd-ee!”

His throat tightened, “Hello, my gorgeous girls.”

Emily first, “Daddy, I’ve been to Jack’s. We had beans on toast. Saw the ducks.”

“That sounds great.”

“And, Daddy, I got a silver star for my reading chart,” Charlotte chipped in.

“Fantastic, Lottie.” He was kneeling between them. They hadn’t a clue what was about to happen and he was aching inside. “Right, right,” he hushed them. “I just need a couple of minutes with Mummy. So you two just go and watch your Peppa Pig, or whatever it is, for a little while and then I’ll be right back.”

He stood up, headed for the kitchen. Emily started to follow him. He turned, his voice gentle but firm, “Just two minutes, Emmie. Okay?”

“’Kay.”

“Good girl.”

A lump lodged in his throat. He watched her follow Lottie back to the lounge. Turned to enter the kitchen, where Kate was loading the dishwasher.

“Kate,” his voice was gentle. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say next.

She half-turned. She looked dreadful, pale and drawn. Her eyes rimmed with red. He’d better be honest, keep it simple, “I’m just here to collect a few things.”

She didn’t speak; just looked at him coldly.

“I’ll pack a bag and then I’ll be off. Just for a couple of nights, for now.”

“What are we going to tell the girls?”

“Oh… I’ll just say I’m away with work for a day or two. Then we’ll sort something out.” His voice faltered. How did you tell your two little girls that you didn’t want to live with Mummy any more? In fact, how did you tell Mummy? “I’ll go and get some things sorted.”

Kate couldn’t speak.

Michael turned and headed up the stairs. He felt such a bastard. Stood for a second or two in the calm of their bedroom. But there were too many memories crowding in. Her nightie on the bed, her perfume on the dressing table, her hairbrush with strands of her blonde hair through it. He gathered his nerve, took a large overnight bag and began to fill it: pairs of socks, boxer shorts, a belt, a wash bag with some essentials in it. He then found a suit carrier and placed inside three work shirts, a couple of ties and a suit. He’d need something casual too: a couple of t-shirts, a black v-neck jumper, a pair of jeans. An extra pair of shoes. That’d do. He’d come back soon. He just needed a few days to clear his mind. Be with Sophie. Really think about what next. But he had a feeling he had already made his choice.

When he left today, he was rewriting his future.

How could you walk back in and slip back into your old life, when you had already damaged it beyond recognition?

It was awful to know how much he had hurt Kate. It was hard even to look at her when he’d come in, to see the pain he’d caused so evident across her features.

It’s done now. He sighed, zipped up the overnight bag, picked up the carrier. He headed back down the stairs, left the bags in the hall, took a deep breath, then walked in to see the girls in the lounge. “Girls,” they looked up from the television, “Daddy’s got to go away for a couple of nights. So he’ll not be here for a little while…” He was talking softly, using the third person. That was odd, he realised. But, in fact, he felt like a stranger to himself right now. “I’ll be back very soon. Okay?”

It wasn’t that unusual, him going away. He often had meetings that took him all over the north of England.

“Okay, Daddy,” Charlotte, all grown up and serious.

“Aww, you’re only just back,” Emily, was indignant. Then she gave him a huge hug that nearly floored him. He hugged her back, crouching low. Lottie moved in, too. His arms around them both. Tears threatened, but he held them back, didn’t want to upset them. Didn’t want anything to seem unusual. He rose to go, then spotted Kate there in the doorway. She had been listening, watching. Her own eyes glinting.

Shit. He needed to get out of here fast. Couldn’t hold it together much longer.

He stood up. “Bye, Kate,” his voice trembled as he picked up his bags.

She didn’t answer. Not with words. But her green eyes held his with whole host of emotions: hurt, pain, anger, love and much more. Should he kiss her cheek? Give her a hug? What are you meant to do when you are leaving someone you have loved for a long time? When you’ve shared dreams and lives, had children together?

He placed a hand gently on her shoulder as he passed. She flinched, then seemed to relax a little, dropped her head until her cheek rested gently on the back of his hand. Just for a split second. Then she tilted upright and drew away, her stare icy.

He walked, out of their house, out of their marriage.

It was all she could do to stop herself from clinging to him. An image flashed in her mind of herself there on the floor holding onto his legs like a frantic child, desperate to stop him.

Don’t go. Don’t go!

Instead she clung on to a last shred of dignity… The girls were right there, for God’s sake. They should never,
will
never, be witness to stuff like that.

Michael slowly slipped his hand from her shoulder, walked to the door. One last glance at her before he pulled it to a close behind him. She thought she saw the tremble of a silent “I’m sorry” hover across his lips.

She stood staring at the white paint of the closed door.

What to do now? What did anyone do when the one you loved had left you?

She turned, walked back to the kitchen and finished loading the dishwasher. Smudges of baked beans and sausages on white plates. Smudges of tears misting her eyes. And then she poured herself a really large glass of wine.

It was later when it hit hard. She’d managed, somehow, to get through the girls’ bath and bedtimes with a semblance of normality. Watched some mindless drama on the television, had an early night, exhausted from the emotions of the past 24 hours. She’d even managed to doze. It was when she woke, in some dark hour of the night, trembling, shaking all over as if she’d caught some awful chill, sobbing uncontrollably into the pillow.

Michael had gone.

Michael had left her.

Michael was, at this very moment, lying in the arms of another woman.

Sleep was never going to happen now, not with her mind full of junk like that going on. So Kate got up quietly, shuffled past the girls’ room in her slippers and her towelling robe, down the stairs, closing the door of the kitchen behind her, then made a strong, sweet cup of tea. She didn’t normally take sugar, but if she couldn’t bloody well have a spoonful in tonight, then sod it.

How was she going to cope with tomorrow? How could she carry on, take the girls to school, see friends there, yet not say a word? But the girls couldn’t know anything yet. It was all too soon. Everything could still change? He was taking a couple of days to think things through. And friends, family – what if she told them? It would all be too final. Just having to find and say the words, that would hurt too much.

And what if he changed his mind after all? Would she be glad? Would she want him back? After the pain of these past hours, she wasn’t sure.

Another door. He didn’t have a key to this one. Yet.

“Are you okay?” Sophie was there waiting for him, her lovely face smiling, yet concerned.

“Yeah,” his voice was drained, “No… not really. It was pretty crap, to be honest.”

“Oh, of course. It was bound to be difficult for you, darling. How…did it all go?”

“How does any of it go, Sophie?” He was pale-faced, crumpled in his work suit, tired. “How do you leave your family?” He ruffled a hand through his dark hair.

She came towards him, put her arms around his shoulders. He allowed her to hug him, but hardly responded. It was all too soon. Too real. She pulled back a little, sensing his need for space.

“Can I get you anything?” They were in the hallway, Sophie’s flat. A narrow beige space of guilt and promise. “A drink. Wine?”

“Ah… just a coffee. Thanks.”

She went through to the small, modern kitchen, styled in chrome and dark wood, switched the kettle on.

Michael followed her, hovering at the kitchen doorway, “Look, I’m sorry. It’s not you… I want to be with you,
so
much. It was just tough, you know. It’s hard to have to do that. To walk out. To see… no, to cause all that hurt and confusion. Especially for Lottie, Em… their little faces…” he trailed off.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, my love.” She was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, “You don’t need to explain. I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if I thought you were the sort of guy that could do this without some sort of conscience… without it hurting.” She held his gaze.

“I think I’ll go take a shower. Is that alright?

She nodded, understanding. “I’ll put that coffee on hold.”

“Thanks.”

The water was hot on his skin. Michael put his head under the spray, found some of Sophie’s shampoo, rubbed it over his scalp, then closed his eyes to the stream of suds and water.

Jesus! What a day. But there was a sense of relief there, too. He’d actually done it. Made the break. Changed the pattern of his life. Given himself and Sophie the chance to make a go of it, be happy. He’d do his best to limit the damage to his girls, to Kate.

Kate, oh bollocks… Was he just a selfish bastard? He knew there was still some love there between them, had always been, but it was more like a memory. It had all got so hard lately. Broken down. He laid his forehead on the cold of the tiles then head-butted the wall. Sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

His body was sweaty, exhilarated, the blood still pumping through his veins. Sophie’s head nestled tenderly against his chest. In her bed, tangled together in cream-coloured cotton.

But there was a nag, a dart of guilt. What the hell was he doing? What had he got himself into? But he couldn’t give her up, not now. Maybe it had been infatuation at the beginning. The feeling of being eighteen again, when falling in love was free and easy. But it was so much more than that now. He breathed in her hair, her perfume, revelled in the softness of her freckled skin. Brushed his fingertips across the downy blonde hairs of her upper arm, into the dip of her elbow. She sighed gently, her breath warm on his chest.

The miracle was she gave it all back so readily, seemed to adore every part of him, loving him so openly, sensually. Even out of bed, her face lit up every time he walked in the room. He smiled, thinking of that. It had been such a long time since Kate had shown that sort of affection for him.

Lying there, stroking the silky strands of her auburn hair, he thought back over the past months. Sometimes he’d seemed able to do nothing right for them, well, for Kate. Coming in too late after work, being told off for waking the girls when it was past their bedtime, when all he’d wanted was a goodnight kiss, or to read them a few pages of their storybook. What harm was there in that? His beautiful girls. His heart felt a chill.

But this with Sophie. It was powerful, the emotions too strong. Not that he hadn’t tried, these past few months, tried to stop it all. The looks, the glances, the pull of adrenalin, draw of sensuality. He had tried to avoid being in the office alone with her, steered clear of any chance of intimacy. But it drew him in, like a drug. No excuse, no way to justify his actions, he knew that. Then that one day, when holding back became too much, that touch, the passionate kiss, and two weeks later, that night. He’d hoped it would burn itself out, that initial sexual contact. Fantastic though it was, he hoped it would get it all out of his system so he could go back home and carry on. But that never happened. He just wanted Sophie even more, yearned for her, creating a distance between him and Kate that was too wide.

He kissed Sophie’s forehead, then held her naked body to him with a hug. She was sleepy but responded, lifting her face to his, kissing him back with lips that were tender, tasting of red wine, sex and his future.