What She Wants (62 page)

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Matt said bitterly, ‘as long as it’s away from you.’

‘You can’t do this,’ she wailed. ‘You’ve left me already, you dumped me here and forgot about me. You can’t do it again.’

‘I’m not abandoning you,’ he snapped. ‘I’m leaving you and lover boy together. But don’t let him think he’s getting his hands on my children, because he’s not.’

‘Matt! Stop and think, please,’ she begged. ‘We can work it out. We’ve got the children to think about. I was lonely, I felt depressed without you and when he flirted with me, I flirted back, that’s all. I mean, you’d gone off and left me and you practically never phoned,’ she said, knowing this was no excuse and that she shouldn’t even be saying it.

‘I left you to work, not to have it off with every woman who flirted with me.’

‘I wasn’t like that,’ Hope insisted in vain. ‘Please listen to me.’

‘No, I won’t listen to your pathetic excuse,’ Matt said. ‘When I think of you whining to me about Finula and how she fancied me, and you know I wouldn’t so much as look at another woman. And then it’s you who runs off with someone.’

‘I didn’t run off with anyone,’ screeched Hope. ‘Why don’t you listen to me for once?’

‘Listen to yourself,’ Matt said coldly. ‘You sound pathetic. You wanted everything, well you can’t have it. You can’t have me and lover boy.’

He left the case and the laptop at the top of the stairs and went into the children’s bedroom. Hope didn’t follow him but she could hear him stoop to kiss Millie and then Toby, hear him whispering ‘bye my little pets. I’ll see you soon.’ She could the rattle in his voice as it broke when he finished, saying ‘I love you so much, don’t forget that.’ She stopped trying to stem the flow of tears at that point. They ran unchecked down her face. What had she done? Matt ignored her when he came out of the children’s room. He hefted the big case down the stairs and Hope could only watch helplessly. She tried to stop him at the front door. ‘I flirted with him,’ she sobbed, saying more than she intended to in her guilt and grief. ‘Nothing more. He got the wrong idea and tried to take it further. I didn’t want to, you know that, Matt. I love you, I love you.’ His dark, hurt eyes raked over her face. ‘Do you?’ he said. ‘Please don’t go,’ she begged. ‘Think of the children,’ she added, as a last resort. ‘You can reach me on my mobile if the children need me,’ he said bluntly. ‘Otherwise, don’t bother phoning. I don’t want to talk to you. When I’m settled, I’ll give you a phone number and address. I don’t live here any more.’ Then he opened the front door, moved his belongings outside. ‘There’s a taxi coming. I’ll wait outside.’ And he slammed the door. He stood outside until the taxi turned up. The taxi driver obviously said nothing when Matt put the suitcase into the car, because Hope, who was leaning against the door listening and sobbing, could hear absolutely no conversation. She heard the taxi drive up the lane, bouncing over the potholes. Then she sank to the floor inside the front door and cried until she had no more tears left inside her.

Delphine was astonished to see the curtains still drawn when she parked outside Curlew Cottage the following morning

at ten. She and Hope were bringing the children into Killarney for the morning and because it was unusual to see no signs of life, Delphine wondered if perhaps one of the children were ill. The words ‘is everything all right?’ froze on her lips when Hope answered the door. Delphine gulped. Clearly everything was not all right. Hope looked dreadful. No, dreadful didn’t accurately describe it. She looked as if she’d just crawled from a car wreck where she was the only survivor. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed, her face was white and sunken and she was shaking like a sapling in a force ten gale. ‘Oh Delphine,’ she croaked. ‘Delphine. Matt’s gone, he’s left me. He found Christy here and he jumped to the wrong conclusion.’ Then Hope just leaned helplessly against her friend and shook as if she was crying, only there were no tears coming out. Despite the jaw-dropping revelations that made her want to ask ‘what?\ Delphine hadn’t grown up with her aunt as a role model for nothing. Mary-Kate was the epitome of cool in these situations and after years of watching her at work, Delphine sprang into expert, caring action, no questions asked. She shut the door and helped Hope to the couch. Cartoons were blaring out of the television and Millie and Toby sat transfixed in front of it, with several packets of sweets scattered around them. Delphine knew that Hope was very keen on stopping the children from viewing sweets as the ultimate treat and gave them yoghurts and dried fruit instead as often as she could. ‘I thought if they had some sweets they wouldn’t notice anything was wrong,’ Hope said wringing her hands. ‘I don’t want them to know what’s going on.’ ‘It’s all right, there’s nothing wrong with sweets now and then. Sure where would us grown ups be without chocolate?’ Delphine smiled but Hope didn’t smile back. She genuinely looked too shattered to smile.

‘When did this happen?’ Delphine asked, taking one of Hope’s quivering hands in her own and holding it tightly. ‘Last night,’ whispered Hope. ‘Matt was here when Christy dropped me home. He’d got a taxi and sent Geraldine home in it and then … it was awful. He’s gone and he’s not coming back, ever.’ ‘And you haven’t slept, right?’ Hope raised haunted eyes to her. ‘Would you be able to?’ Delphine marched into the kitchen and made Hope a mug of strong coffee which she laced with a slug of brandy. She handed it to Hope and prayed that Hope would be able to hold the mug without spilling it. ‘This has alcohol in it,’ Hope said after a sip. ‘I won’t be able to drive or anything.’ ‘You can’t drive in your state as it is,’ Delphine said firmly. ‘Drink it. Then you’re going to go up and have a shower, fix your hair and your make-up and then we’ll talk if you want to. But first you’ve got to look presentable for the children’s sake. They can’t see you like this and they’re your first priority.’ ‘Yes, of course,’ Hope’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I should be ashamed of myself. I’m not fit to be their mother …’ ‘Now, now, hush,’ Delphine said gently, hugging her. ‘You’re a great mum. You’ve had a shock, Hope. Of course you got upset, you’re not a machine.’ Hope drank down the coffee like a child taking nasty medicine, then she went obediently upstairs. Somehow, by blanking out everything, she managed to shower, dry her hair and slick on lipstick to make herself look more human. Her hands shook when she pulled out the bright pink shirt that Millie loved and which Matt had told her suited her better than any other colour. No, she wouldn’t think about Matt. She touched her mother’s pill box, leaving her fingers on the painted surface as if she might feel some inspiration or strength travelling via her fingers into her heart. But she felt nothing, except guilt and shame. Her mother would be ashamed of her, Hope was sure of it.

‘Hello Millie and Toby,’ Delphine said brightly to the children. ‘How are you?’

Toby was too enthralled watching the TV to answer but Millie looked at her solemnly. ‘We’re fine but Mummy has a pain in her head. She told me. That’s why she’s crying.’

‘Poor Mummy,’ Delphine agreed. ‘Mummies sometimes get terrible pains in their heads and they need lots of love and kisses to get over it. Will you help?’

Millie nodded.

‘Did you have your breakfast?’ Delphine inquired.

Millie nodded again. Then whispered: ‘I spilled all mine and she never noticed.’

‘We might have some more later,’ Delphine said decisively. Millie went back to watching the TV.

It was fifteen minutes before Hope came downstairs again, still looking pale but miles better than she had earlier. Millie and Toby threw themselves at her.

‘Mummy, we had toast and chocolate spread and Toby got chocolate spread on his T-shirt,’ giggled Millie.

‘Did not,’ said Toby hotly.

As they squabbled and cuddled up to their mother, she looked over their heads at Delphine and mouthed the word ‘thanks’.

When the children stopped vying for their mother’s attention, Delphine made more coffee - this time without the brandy - and sat with Hope at the kitchen table.

Hope told her everything, leaving nothing out, no matter how embarrassed she felt at the revelations.

‘Confession is good for the soul, or so I hear,’ Hope said miserably when she’d finished.

‘That’s what my mother’s always telling me,’ Delphine agreed. ‘But she means it in a “confess and never make a mistake again” sort of way. I don’t think humans are made like that. We keep making mistakes.’

‘Not like mine, you don’t.’ Hope looked dismal.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Delphine advised. ‘You didn’t do this on your own. Christy’s an expert at that sort

of thing. Other people have hobbies: his is charming women. I’ve seen him flirting with female guests just for the hell of it. He can’t help himself and because you were married, you were even more of a challenge.’ Hope looked unconvinced. ‘I should have known better,’ she said, staring into the depths of her coffee mug. ‘Oh Hope, you were an innocent going like a lamb to the slaughter. Christy’s trading point is excitement,’ Delphine pointed out. ‘He finds people who lack excitement in their lives and he provides it, in great big doses. Being whisked off to an exotic lunch with a handsome, attentive man is like something from a film and it doesn’t happen to most of us in real life, which is why his victims are always so thrilled and convinced that they’re the real thing.’ Hope shuddered at Delphine’s choice of words. She had been a victim and she had thought, however briefly, that it was the real thing for Christy. He was so believable when he told her how he felt about her. And of course, she’d been nothing but a diversion for him. She had just ruined her marriage for nothing. That was the absolutely awful thing. ‘Maybe he was a flirt or a playboy and I should have known better,’ she said slowly, ‘but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I was interested in him. That’s what makes me most ashamed. What sort of person can I be if I have a lovely husband and I’m capable of even thinking of cheating on him? You wouldn’t do that to Eugene, how could I do it to poor Matt?’ She was too worn out to cry but now she laid her head on her arms and sobbed dry, painful sobs. ‘You didn’t cheat on Matt,’ Delphine protested. ‘You got carried away and you kissed Christy. Big deal, that’s all.’ ‘Matt doesn’t agree with you,’ Hope said. ‘Matt doesn’t know the entire story. You should have told him.’ ‘He wouldn’t listen,’ Hope said quietly.

That evening, Hope found the courage to phone Matt’s mobile. Delphine had been urging her to do it all day but

she was scared to: scared in case Matt told her their marriage was over. Not phoning was her version of the ostrich defence. The longer she kept her head buried in the sand, the longer she didn’t have to face the truth.

The kids were drinking their bedtime milk and squabbling over which story they wanted read for bedtime when she picked up the phone and dialled. The answering service was on and, hearing Matt’s steady, familiar voice telling her to leave a message, she chickened out and hung up, swallowing to deal with the huge lump in her throat. When the kids were finally in bed, she steeled herself and rang again, leaving a message this time.

Hello Matt, it’s Hope. We’ve got to talk. Please phone me, please. I love you. I’m so very, very sorry. You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, please believe me. I love you.

There really wasn’t anything else she could say until he responded. Then, she phoned Betsey and Dan in Bath.

‘Hello stranger,’ said Dan chirpily when he answered. ‘Long time no hear. How are you? Looking for Betsey, no doubt…’

‘Er … no,’ Hope said hesitantly. Matt couldn’t be there. Dan would have instantly mentioned it if he had been. Unless Matt didn’t want her to know where he was. ‘Is Matt there?’ she asked, knowing that if he wasn’t there, she’d just told another person her tale of woe.

There was a moment’s silence. ‘No, Hope, he’s not. He was going home to you for the weekend, it was a surprise … don’t tell me he didn’t get there?’

At the other end of the phone, Hope sighed. ‘He got here, Dan. We had a row and he left again and now I can’t get him on his mobile.’

‘What are you like!’ joked Dan. ‘I never had you pair down for the tempestuous lovers. Betsey goes into a rage at least twice a week and flounces out of the house. She only comes back when she’s done serious damage to the Visa card. Matt’ll be back with a hangover, I guarantee it!’

If only it were that simple. ‘I hope so,’ she said.

She tried Matt’s mobile again and left another message, telling him she was worried and to please phone. ‘The kids miss you,’ she added, knowing it was emotional blackmail but not able to help herself. She’d say she was dying if only it would make him phone her, because once they were actually speaking, she’d be able to convince him that she loved him, truly.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

There was a certain type of nosy neighbour whom Virginia hated. The sort who adored other people’s traumas because it gave them a cast iron excuse to arrive at the front door with a thrown-together pile of scones and a fake ‘how are you?’ refrain so they could peer around your house and see if you’d let the place go in the midst of your misery. Luckily, these neighbours were rare but Virginia remembered one particular example who’d arrived at her house the day after Bill had died, bearing a cake and dying to be asked in so she could see if Virginia was bearing up or if she’d been sitting in front of the television like a tranquillized zombie. Laurence had admitted Emily Dawson, blithely thinking she was a kind woman who truly wanted to sympathize, like the other people who’d been arriving at the house all day to hug Virginia and cry and say how sorry they were to hear about Bill. It was Jamie, who was much more observant and more worldly than his older brother and who knew Emily was on a mission to snoop, who whisked her out again before she could start compiling her list for the neighbourhood watch. ‘Poor Virginia … well, she just sits there, doesn’t she? I saw the doctor’s car outside the house earlier and she must be on something … not a scrap of make-up on her, poor dear, and her always so well turned out normally … those boys are very good to her … wasn’t the younger one a terror at school?’ would be the report, delivered with saccharine sympathy. Virginia knew the routine, having spent years trying to