by Kate Bradley
I look around the kitchen for a knife.
seven:
– before –
I joined the queue for a coffee, then checked the café for my friends. This was my favourite time of the week – Friday morning, the beginning of the weekend, Jack enjoying his time with his nan and me being able to decompress by seeing my friends.
I spotted Issy, and mouthed: Do you want a drink? When she shook her head, I felt a stab of relief. I wanted to be generous but I couldn’t help but be glad I was buying only for me – money was tight, and Nick kept talking about me going back to work now Jack was three. I had said I’d go back when he was one, and since then the subject seemed to come up every couple of months. But today, I decided I wouldn’t think about it – today was Nessa’s birthday and I couldn’t wait to give her the dozen tulips I’d bought her, and – smugness beyond smugness – I’d made her my famous banana bread. I’d wrapped it carefully in brown paper and string and it smelt pretty darned special.
Coffee in hand, I wove through the tables to our favourite spot in the window. ‘Hey!’ It was only Issy, not little Lottie, and I realised I’d never before seen Issy without her daughter during the day. Lottie was the sweetest thing, with matching red hair to Issy’s, and she’d sit and draw for hours.
I looked around, expecting to see one of the others come in: ‘No Nadia or Nessa yet?’ I sat down without waiting for an answer and relaxed.
Issy smiled at me without meeting my gaze. ‘Your hair is pretty like that.’
I touched it a little self-consciously: ‘Thanks.’ Normally I wore my hair scraped back into a ponytail. I changed the subject: ‘I thought I’d be last because I’ve run late all morning. You haven’t heard from the others?’
When Issy didn’t answer, I looked at her properly and saw her avoidant gaze, the bottom bite of her lip – and just knew. Issy was so bright and confident and nothing ever fazed her but I realised from her nerves and the lack of her daughter and our friends that something was going on. This was no normal Friday coffee. Then I thought: She knows. They all know.
And even though I didn’t truly believe that – even though I dismissed it as my paranoia talking, already it felt like the banana cake and the tulips and the stress of running late might all be for nothing.
‘It’s just us today.’
‘Not even Lottie?’
‘I asked my mum to have her.’
‘You asked your mum to have her,’ I repeated, shock dulling my voice. Issy hated her mum looking after her daughter – she thought her much too strict. Today had to be a special day if she’d actually asked her mum for childcare. Obviously whatever was going to be said, couldn’t be said in front of small ears.
‘Is there . . . something going on?’ I tried a smile, but my face felt stiff and false. I smelt the waft of banana bread from my string bag and felt ambushed. ‘I wish I’d known that Nessa wasn’t going to join us – I’ll have to get these tulips to her somehow.’
‘Sorry,’ Issy said, ‘maybe I should’ve said, but we . . .’
Now, I’d have to wait until Nick was back from work and then drive the tulips across town. It’d be late and I’d be tired. My irritation made me bold; if she was going to rip a plaster off, I suddenly wanted her to get on with it. ‘Issy – what’s going on?’
‘We all thought it’d be better that it wasn’t everyone today, just one of us. Otherwise . . . you might not feel comfortable.’
My face burnt; within that one statement, I’d changed my mind. I didn’t want to know. This would be embarrassing and awkward and I just wanted to be anywhere but here.
Issy was lovely, but she always had that air of self-possessed confidence of those who’ve had wealthy parents and good schooling. She was a high-powered solicitor and I was only a stay-at-home mum. I didn’t begrudge her – she was funny, sweet and hard-working. I really liked her. But I never felt like I quite measured up. Her bobbed hair was, as always, immaculate; my mousey mop rarely saw a brush. I lived in jeans and flip-flops; she loved tailored pieces. Her daughter wore neat dresses and ate biscuits slowly, whereas Jack was greedy and rubbed his dirty hands on his T-shirts. It was as if she was in control of everything, whereas I was just holding on to the edges of life.
‘I’ve just remembered . . .’ I said, fumbling for a reason to save me.
‘Please don’t go.’ She lightly rested her hand over mine. ‘We really care about you. So much. You’re a dear friend and we all just love Jack.’ Her eyes flicked away and I knew she was going to deliver a bomb; she squeezed my hand and said: ‘This – what I’m about to say – is so important.’ She took a deep breath: ‘I want to get this right. Please give me a chance.’
I nodded and tried to smile a little. ‘Of course, Issy. Whatever you want to say.’
Issy inhaled deeply, squeezed her eyes shut and said: ‘We’ve seen the bruises.’ There was a long beat and then she added: ‘And we are concerned for you. For your safety.’
I let go of her hand to add sugar to my coffee and stirred very slowly, keeping my gaze on the moving spoon.
‘We saw your cheek last week.’ She barely paused before adding: ‘And your eye just before that. And bruises, your finger . . . lots of things have made us think.’
For a moment, I felt like the noise of the people around us had turned mute. In the chaos of my life was this little island that I visited once a week, and I was watching it being smashed by a cyclone.
She looked so sad and I felt so sick, I just didn’t know what to do. I had read once that if one wasn’t sure how to answer a question, one should simply ask a question back. ‘What do you think I should do?’
She inhaled audibly. ‘We think you should leave Nick.’
I put down my cup and stared at it. I couldn’t look up at her. The café felt hot – too hot. This was my nightmare.
‘We will support you . . .’ She gripped my arm. ‘We’ve talked it through but, honey, I really hope that you see this is for the best, because of Jack.’
‘Jack?’
‘You must worry about the effect on him. We haven’t seen him for a little while, I know, but we really care about him like we care about you.’
They hadn’t seen Jack for over a year. When the women in our NCT gang all went back to work after a year, Friday was the only day everyone was free; Irene, Nick’s mum, had agreed to look after Jack on a Friday and I was reluctant to change it not least because I had a little routine where I’d have a coffee with them first thing, then go straight on and do the family shop for the week. I’d tried Jack in nursery and he didn’t like it, so the one day felt like a chance to get chores done.
But boy, did I miss him now. I wanted to cling to him and breathe him in and shut out Issy and the reality of what was happening. I couldn’t think properly. I felt so hot and so utterly humiliated; all I could smell was the sweet fug of banana cake, reminding me of how it should’ve been. I realised Issy was looking at me like she expected me to say something. I clutched for my first thought: ‘The effect on Jack?’ I said, still stumbling to understand what they meant.
‘Nick’s violence. Obviously we don’t understand –’ she gave me a heartfelt shoulder squeeze – ‘the extent of what you’re suffering, but it can’t be good for Jack.’
I swallowed against the dry of my throat.
‘Nick might get worse.’ She leaned forward and lowered her voice: ‘What if he doesn’t just hurt you but starts to hurt Jack?’
‘No!’ I said, loud enough to make other people turn around. I couldn’t help it, but I worked to control myself. ‘He would never hurt Jack. Never. He loves him, like I do.’ I felt a flash of anger. ‘What do you take me for? Do you think I’m the kind of woman who stands by whilst her man hurts her child?’
‘I’m sorry, Lisa, we were just worried about if it gets worse and you felt trapped.’
Now it wasn’t just the café that was hot – I felt volcanic. ‘I’m so hurt you could think that abou
t me! As if I wouldn’t kill any man who’d threaten the safety of my child!’ As I said it, an image from another time, another place, became so vivid: the bloodied knife as it fell, used and dirtied, to the floor.
The memory felt so clear, so powerful, so unexpected, tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t hide them: I was too overwhelmed.
‘Oh gosh, Lisa!’ Issy stumbled for tissues, and like the well-prepared mother she was, found them and I mopped up my tears. Then there was a tense silence, where we’d both been bruised, her by my sudden hugely emotional reaction and me by her words. It was like a chess game where neither of us had the skills or knowledge to know how to move forward.
Eventually, I spoke. ‘You want me to leave him?’
‘No.’
I felt a wave of relief. Perhaps we could talk this through and find some way back to where we should be.
She gave my hand a quick squeeze: ‘Honey, we want you to leave him now.’
I blinked. ‘Now?’
‘Don’t think you’re on your own. We’ve talked about it – we, the whole gang, are so desperate to help you both, believe me. Nadia says you and Jack can stay with her for as long as you need. Let’s be honest, she’s got masses of room. And you’ll have all our support.’ She reached forward and moved the stuck hair away from my sweaty forehead in an intimate gesture. ‘Anything you need darling, anything.’
I jerked back, not wanting her to touch me.
She took my silence for possible interest and ploughed on. ‘Think of it: Nadia’s got four floors and there’s only her, Ben and Matt. She’s already spoken to Matt and—’
Spoken to Matt! Matt the high-powered banking exec who hankers after being a stand-up comedian and who Nick likes the most. Sometimes the eight of us got together in the evening – Nessa and George, Nadia and Matt, and Issy and Chris, me and Nick – but it’s all ruined. How could Matt and Nick crack jokes over a beer, now? I realised, with sickening certainty, this big talk has killed that part of my life. Not only are our weekly coffee meetings trashed but also it seems that the part where I get to put on a nice top and nice shoes and have drinks with people who think I’m just like them, is also over.
Now at-the-moment-I’m-stay-at-home-mum-but-I’m-really-a-trained-nurse Lisa and policeman Nick Law will never be welcome around housewife Nadia Marshall and her husband Matt Head-of-some-big-banking-division; now we will never again sip gin and tonic, and eat nibbles from little bowls on their lovely patio. Now it’s extremely unlikely that Matt would even let Nick into his house but even if he did, I know that every single one of them would be staring at Nick thinking: Wife beater.
And worse, they’ll be looking at me thinking: Target.
I feel sick that they’ll look at little Jack and think: Victim.
These people, my friends, are lovely people, and I wish it wasn’t true, but I can’t see how we can ever not be set apart from them now.
‘. . . and Matt’s agreed that you and Jack can have the top floor. It’s got lovely views – you can see the sea from the Velux. Nessa says you can have her camping kitchen if you want to set it up and Matt and Nadia are happy for you to do that if you want your own privacy. Even if you don’t, you’ll have your own bathroom and be perfectly safe.’
Issy sat back and breathed out, evidently relieved that she’d delivered what was, undeniably, a difficult message to deliver.
But if it was hard to say, it was harder to hear. The thought of being stuck in someone else’s top floor on my own every day with Jack and none of my things around me and no future, and no family unit, made me feel sick.
‘Thank you,’ I said, now it was my turn to squeeze her hand. ‘I mean that, but . . . you’re wrong. We are a happy family. We all love each other and want to be together. It’s sweet of Nadia to offer us her house, but we don’t need it. I’m tired a lot of the time – as you know Jack doesn’t sleep well – and I’m clumsy. I know it just sounds like a cliché, but aren’t clichés often true? When he sleeps through the night properly – when he’s eighteen maybe! – I’ll go back to work and I’ll just be . . . more on it.’ This time my smile felt more natural.
She sat back surprised. ‘Are you saying we’ve got it wrong?’
I nodded slowly. I made myself drink my coffee as if it evidenced just how OK everything was. ‘I know it sounds like the worst excuse ever – oh, I walked into the door! – but . . .’ I shrugged. ‘What can I do if that’s what’s happened? I can’t tell it any other way, can I?’
A shadow of doubt crossed Issy’s lovely face. ‘No, I guess . . . not.’
‘Look, I really appreciate the offer. But it’s – I’m glad to say – just not like that. But it gives me a good excuse to go back to the GP for help with his sleep. I’ll tell this to the GP to show just how bad it is for me, and who knows, maybe this time they’ll set up a referral or something. Sorry.’
‘You don’t need to apologise.’
‘I just feel, you’ve been so thoughtful, so kind, but it’s all for . . .’ I shrugged, warming to my role.
‘For nothing.’
‘Exactly. But, Issy, seriously, so, so nice of you. I’m lucky to have such great, thoughtful, kind friends.’
Somehow, our hands found one another, and for a moment we smiled hard at each other, as we gripped hands across the table. And then – and I still don’t know why – Issy, with a deft and sudden movement, reached across with her other hand and pulled up the baggy sleeve of my loose-knit jumper.
I didn’t let her – I just didn’t move quick enough.
And there further up, on the soft flesh on the underside of my arm, near my elbow, was a burn, where, when frying Nick a couple of eggs and after a silly dispute about ketchup, a sudden shove caught the flame, and I saw it and then I looked up to see her staring at it – and I did nothing, because I could do nothing.
Because it was over. Even if she’d pulled up my sleeve and found no injury, I would’ve still understood that she didn’t believe me. And I understood, as well as anyone, that once trust has gone in a relationship, it’s gone. But she did find something, so the mistrust now went both ways.
Thinking that, I got up and kissed her goodbye.
eight:
– before –
Although the café had felt stifling, outside, despite it being well into autumn, it felt little better; the unseasonable warmth combined with a fine mist made it feel sultry, like a possible storm could suddenly erupt. Feeling breathless, I decided to pick up Jack early from Irene’s – I felt unsettled and anxious without him. It was as if because one unforeseen event had occurred – and that jagged, forgotten memory of the falling knife! – then anything could now happen.
I knew Nick wouldn’t like it; Irene loved her time with her only grandchild and Nick would grumble that I was spoiling the child again. I knew he was jealous of Jack’s and my special bond, but after last night, I no longer cared.
What Issy didn’t know was that last night, another terrible row had erupted which ended with Nick getting a bleeding hand and me receiving a bruised ear which I had covered by keeping my hair loose. But now I could no longer just wear full-length sleeves, dab heavily with the concealer, or let my hair fall about my face. Now I knew that they would be looking for signs of injury, I wouldn’t be able to hide it. Now, they would be watching for any difference in my gait, any awkwardness in my sitting down – just anything that might show that I had an injury. Then, if I went to the loo they would watch the door and whisper to each other, worried, until they saw me coming back, and then they would resume some fabricated conversation. I knew I’d sit down, pink-cheeked, and try to hide my misery, but instead my heart would be breaking from their concern.
As I walked up the hill to the terraced houses where Irene lived, I’d realised I’d lost them. But as I pushed away the upset that I’d allow myself to process later (if only because I didn’t want to arrive at Irene’s in tears because it’d be too awkward to explain), I instead he
ld on to the new determination I suddenly felt – their concern would not be in vain.
I wouldn’t continue the way I had been. I resolved to make a change – a permanent, yet unknown change – before I turned out like my mother.
Feeling fierce yet fragile, I arrived at Irene’s to collect Jack. Although I hadn’t told her I was coming early, she was friendly and ushered me into her neatly kept terraced house. Irene was the most organised person I knew, her home prim with the same precision she applied to her tidy appearance. Irene – although a little too bossy at times – was worthy of respect: she’d had three boys, all one year apart, and I was lucky to have her help.
Jack was playing trains on the floor, but he ran to me. ‘Mummy, home, home, home.’ he said into my waist. Sometimes I worried about Jack’s limited speech, but whenever I broached the subject with Nick, all he would say was that Jack should go to nursery so he could widen his social pool. It was amazing how nursery had become the panacea for every ill.
Normally, I’d be happy to sit and have a natter with Irene, but today I wanted to get Jack and go. My head was full of tumbling thoughts: it was if Issy had jump-started me out of inertia. Her solution wasn’t right for me, but humiliated, I now felt determined to find one that was. A walk home via the park with my son was just what I needed to focus my thoughts.
I’d readied an excuse to decline a cup of tea without seeming rude, but she didn’t offer, instead just dismissing me with: ‘No, dear, you must get going if you’re busy,’ and let me go. Because she was so lonely, I’d never normally get away so easily, so I became gripped by paranoia: did she know Nick and I were arguing? Had he told her about last night? Did she see a future where I was no longer her daughter-in-law and she was already making the mental break from me?
As we left, Jack hugged me tightly and was so reluctant to walk, I hoicked him onto my hip. Despite the weight, I took the longer route home to give me time to think.