The Secretary

by Zoe Lea

  ‘Ruth –’ he put his hand on the door ‘– you can’t just—’

  ‘I can,’ I said directly to him. ‘Sam hates staying with you. He hates it. I only do it so your mother can see him. He likes Jean, it’s you he hates.’

  Will’s jaw clenched. I could see his hands curling up into fists.

  ‘Do it,’ I said before I could stop myself. ‘Ring social services, take me to court. See what happens, because you’re not having Sam this weekend, or any other weekend.’

  ‘But Ruth, that’s not fair on Sam, on his routine.’

  ‘Sam will be delighted he’s not having to endure another Saturday night with you.’

  ‘If you do this, Ruth,’ Will clenched his teeth and took a deep breath in, ‘if you do this now, you’ll be giving me no other option than to—’

  I shut the door and rested against it, my heart speeding. I’d just told Will that I had an extravagant trip to Disney planned. That me and Sam were travelling to Paris. Going on a plane. To a busy theme park with hundreds of others. Away from home. Away from Carlisle. In four weeks. I told him to take me to court. I more or less told him to apply for custody.

  I had no money, was behind on the rent, had almost lost my job and, if I didn’t pull off this holiday, was now in danger of losing my son. In danger of losing everything.

  ELEVEN

  ‘You said what?’

  I went to the fridge and took out the wine.

  ‘Disney,’ I said, and offered her the bottle.

  She hesitated for a fraction, then looked towards the stairs. She’d just come down from seeing Sam, who was up there in my bedroom watching television.

  ‘He’s fine,’ I told her, ‘you just said so.’

  She smiled. ‘He’s more than fine, he’s adorable.’ She joined me at the kitchen table. ‘We just had the most interesting conversation about star gazing and astronomy.’

  ‘We talked about that over dinner.’

  Becca nodded. ‘He’s so clever, gets it all from me.’

  I raised my eyebrows.

  ‘As his godmother –’ she smiled as I handed her a glass ‘– my intelligence has obviously rubbed off.’ I began to pour and she stopped me quickly. ‘Just a tiny one,’ she said, ‘I’ve got a late spin class.’

  ‘Spin class?’ I looked over to the six cakes I had on the counter. ‘So you won’t be wanting a cake with that wine then?’

  Becca stared at them a moment, all bright and shiny in their neon cases from where I’d been baking earlier. After Will had gone I’d done what I normally do to calm down, I’d baked. I’d done all of the fairy cakes for Sue’s fiftieth birthday party, as well as a dozen for Gary and his charity event, only just finishing when Becca came to the door. I had six left over that I planned to eat that evening, but now, looking at the rainbow frosting, I wasn’t sure I had the appetite.

  Becca shook her head resolutely and patted her thighs. ‘Better not. They have this big screen up at the gym showing a road through a forest that moves when you cycle, so it feels like you’re really outside. And as it’s in the evening, they put all these fairy lights on for atmosphere.’

  I handed her half a glass of wine, picked up one of the cakes and started picking at the frosting. ‘Here’s an idea, why not just cycle outside?’

  She took a quick sip. ‘Because if I went outside, I wouldn’t get to go to the gym, and if I didn’t go to the gym, I wouldn’t get to see the new instructor who does the late-night spin class and who is this close to asking me out.’ She put her finger and thumb together so they were almost touching.

  ‘I see,’ I said, sitting down heavily.

  I didn’t ask Becca about him. She went through a steady stream of men, always exciting and brilliant until she’d been out with them a few times and declared them boring. I had tried to tell her that she might have commitment issues, but she refused to consider it, her argument being that as she was getting older, she didn’t have the time to waste. She claimed she knew if they were going to be a good fit by the third date, but I’d yet to see anyone get to a fourth.

  ‘So –’ Becca took a small sip ‘– Disney.’

  I nodded and we were both silent for a moment.

  ‘He knows them,’ I said, and she raised her eyebrows. ‘Janine and Rob.’

  ‘How? How is that even possible? Doesn’t Will live over by Hammonds Pond, in Upperby?’

  I nodded. ‘Janine and Rob moved there early this year.’ I leaned forward. ‘Rob is the chairman of Will’s rugby club.’

  Becca looked horrified for a second, then started to giggle.

  ‘It’s really not funny,’ I told her, ‘it just keeps getting worse. Will didn’t know them until it all came out about me and Rob. Rob phoned him.’

  ‘Rob phoned Will?’

  ‘Apparently –’ I took a long drink ‘– after Janine left school, she went to Rob’s work. To confront him. And Rob must’ve put two and two together and worked out I was Will’s ex-wife. Actually –’ I took a moment ‘– I think I told him all that at the Valentine’s dinner.’

  I shut my eyes as it hit me afresh, Rob knowing exactly who I was, exactly who Will was, when he told me all those lies. When he slept with me, the bastard knew it all.

  ‘So he calls Will,’ I went on, ‘like it was all my fault. Like Will was somehow responsible for me telling Janine. And now they’ve all crawled out of the woodwork, all of Will’s friends who hate me. All those who lied for him when he was married to me, all those idiots at the rugby club. All calling me names and telling Will he should get his son away from me.’

  My throat got tight as I spoke. Since the outburst I’d been constantly trying to hide from Sam how upset I was. It was only now that I let the full extent of it show. ‘At least that’s what I think happened. He had all these reasons as to why Sam should go and live with him, it was horrendous. Just awful. He threatened to go to social services, to get a solicitor involved.’

  ‘A solicitor?’ Becca crinkled up her nose. ‘Bastard. After everything he’s put you through. Can he even do that? Won’t social services see that he didn’t want to see Sam at all when he first went?’

  I shrugged. The truth of it was, I had no idea to what extent social services would get involved.

  ‘He called me mental.’ I closed my eyes, tears threatening. ‘Said I was crazy again. It was just like when he left.’

  ‘But plenty of mothers have post-natal depression.’ Becca reached across and grabbed my hand. ‘It doesn’t make them bad mothers, or mental.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe he actually called you that.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And plenty of children suffer from anxiety, it doesn’t mean that anyone’s to blame.’

  I took a sip of wine and nodded. Becca was my best friend, she’d been with me through it all, seen me at my lowest, and she was saying all the right things. But the truth of it was, she didn’t know if I wasn’t to blame for how Sam was, and neither did I.

  Sam’s anxiety and behaviour issues started when Will left us. Just as Sam was starting school and becoming independent, his father left. Sam developed separation anxiety, which went on to develop into other forms of anxiety, and I blamed Will, had always blamed Will, but now, after what Will had said, what if it was me?

  What if my mental health had left a mark on him? I’d read in a magazine that you teach your children how to behave by your behaviour, but what if you can’t control your behaviour? What if your husband leaves and depression and anxiety take over and it’s all you can do to hold your child close and get through the day?

  ‘Fucking bastard,’ I said, and grabbed a piece of kitchen roll to wipe my eyes. ‘Fucking Rob and Janine. I don’t care if you think she’s nice, Becca, this is something else. This is her not being nice at all.’

  ‘You don’t know it was them who told Will to do this,’ she began.

  ‘He said he was getting a solicitor involved.’ I raised my eyes. ‘A solicitor. That’s the second time th
is week I’ve had threats from a solicitor and I can only think of one.’

  ‘You think they got Ashley Simmons … ?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know … ’ I pressed the tissue to my eyes. ‘I don’t know what’s going on any more, only that Will is going to social services. I had to say something.’ I screwed the tissue up into a tight ball. ‘I had to prove everything he was saying was wrong, and it was the first thing that came to mind.’

  ‘You could’ve said you’d got Sam in to see someone.’

  I huffed. Our last visit to the GP, months and months ago, had resulted in a referral that we were still waiting on.

  ‘Or that you were going to Cornwall for a few days or something, but Disney?’ She shook her head. ‘That involves getting Sam on a plane, or a train, getting you on a plane or train, then the journey, then organising theme park tickets and lining up and pushing through all the crowds, and the expense. Do you know how much it costs for a trip to Disney? Do you know how much it costs to go to Paris even?’

  I looked up at her, my eyes heavy and shook my head. ‘More than I have,’ I said, and we were both quiet.

  ‘I told him we were going in half term,’ I said, and Becca reeled.

  ‘You’re a terrible liar.’

  ‘I know.’

  I took another gulp of wine. ‘It’ll strengthen his case,’ I said, ‘me lying to him. He’ll file for custody and he’ll get it because I can’t afford to fight him. He’ll take Sam away and force him to go out, to do rugby and football and do all those things he hates.’ My voice had got higher and I was out of breath. I looked down and realised I’d been picking the skin around my thumbnail; it was bleeding. ‘And Janine and Rob will be friends with him and they’ll all agree how pathetic I am and that it’s a good job Sammy’s with them and not me.’

  ‘Calm down,’ Becca said, and reaching across the table she put her hand on mine. ‘It’s Will. Stupid, lazy Will we’re talking about here.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Remember who your enemy is,’ she said. ‘A man who makes decisions with what’s in his pants and based on what a few people in the rugby club think. He’s probably got this idea to get custody because he wants to impress someone. Probably Rob or Janine. And as soon as they realise what an arse he is, they’ll forget him and he’ll forget about applying for custody.’

  My phone suddenly rang. It was the landline and made us both jump.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s him again,’ I said, as the answer machine kicked in.

  ‘Hello,’ my voice sang out, ‘you’ve reached Ruth’s Custom Cakes, sorry I can’t take your call, please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’

  I stared at Becca. We heard the person at the other end of the line take a deep breath.

  ‘Ruth?’ It was a woman. ‘It’s Eve here, Ryan’s mum. I was, well, when it all happened I came to you. Anyway, I need to see you, could do with having a chat.’ She faltered for a moment, let out a small laugh. ‘Sorry. Sorry I hate these answer machines. Anyway, my number is … ’

  I stared at Becca as Eve recited her number and ended the call. We were silent for a moment.

  ‘Interesting,’ Becca said. ‘Are you going to call her back?’

  I was exhausted. Shaky from too much wine and Will’s visit.

  ‘Janine sent me a text, you know,’ I told her. ‘It was either her or Rob, calling me a slag.’

  ‘Oh Ruth … ’

  ‘I’ve deleted it,’ I said, and took my wine to the sink, throwing it away before I gulped it down.

  ‘Did she say anything else?’

  I shook my head. ‘Just that one word: “Slag”. At least I think it was from her … ’

  ‘It was from her –’ Becca nodded ‘– and that’s why you sent that text to Rob?’ She gave me a look as I nodded.

  When I told her that I’d sent a text to Rob threatening to send Janine to jail, she went a bit mad at me. I’d not been that clever after all. It could easily have gone the other way. It looked like harassment, Becca said; they could’ve called my bluff, shown my message to John and the governors and used it as proof that my conduct in my role as school secretary wasn’t professional.

  ‘Well at least it made her drop the complaint,’ I said, and Becca sighed.

  ‘For now.’ She looked at me pointedly. ‘But the reason why you left the car dealership was mentioned,’ she said, and my heart thrummed.

  ‘In the staff meeting?’

  She nodded slowly.

  ‘Will that ever stop following me around?’ I felt tears brim against my eyes again. ‘Who brought that up? It was a minor conviction, John had always said that was confidential, between him and the governors only. It was years ago.’

  ‘A few of the parents mentioned it to John,’ she said, ‘and he felt, as head, it was his responsibility to tell the staff what you did now. So everyone was aware should things develop further.’

  I winced.

  ‘So don’t send any more text messages, OK?’ She sighed. ‘Not to Janine, not to Rob, and don’t talk about it to anyone. Don’t even ring that Eve woman back. Let it all go. Let it all die down.’

  I nodded.

  ‘If Will is serious about getting social services involved, you don’t want to appear … ’ She paused, as if looking for the right word. ‘Unstable. And being involved in an ongoing dispute with Janine and Rob won’t look good, especially if he’s now “friends” with them.’

  She paused again.

  ‘You might want to reconsider letting Will have Sam,’ she said, before leaving, and put her hands up when I tried to argue against it.

  ‘Think about it: if you deny all contact, he’ll have no choice but to get social services involved. But if you come to some kind of agreement … ’

  She let her words hang when she saw my face.

  ‘OK,’ she said at the door. ‘We’ve got four weeks before half term so let’s use them. Keep your head down, don’t get into any more trouble and we’ll build a case so that, if Will does apply for custody, we’ll be prepared.’

  Four years earlier, when I found out about Will sleeping with another woman, I’d gone to her house and thrown a brick through her window.

  At the time, we were living on an estate over in the south of Carlisle. When Sam was about two or three, I had started a part-time job at the car dealership two days a week. Will was doing well as an independent estate agent. Back then, he was still focusing on houses and residential property; he’d not yet started on the holiday lets, didn’t need to. Sam had nursery on the days I worked, and I was toying with the idea of having another baby.

  I remember walking past the five-bedroom detached houses over by the cathedral, with visions of me being a stay-at-home mum. I imagined days of park visits and messy play, of baking and pushing a pram with a newborn. I didn’t want Sam to be an only child, ideally. I wanted three or four children. A big family, and I thought, as Sam was reaching an age where he was a little more independent, the time was right.

  We started trying. In those first few months I was really hopeful. I’d conceived Sam without any trouble and naively thought it would happen a second time just as easily. I even went as far as to start getting stuff ready for this new child. I got Sam’s old baby clothes down from the attic, accepted a nursing chair that a friend was giving away. But it didn’t happen. It didn’t happen at all, and after a few months it became the focus of everything. The waiting, the convincing myself I was pregnant for the two weeks after my ovulation date until I got my period, and the crushing despair when I realised it hadn’t happened again.

  Will said my PND was returning, that I was sending myself insane. I’d become fixated, obsessed, he said, and if I wasn’t careful I’d alienate the child I did have. He told me I was pushing Sam away and I agreed. I wasn’t blameless in the failure of our marriage, I know that. I know it was a difficult time, but what I can’t forgive Will for is how he reacted. How he went on to treat me when I needed him most.

  It was a
round this time that Will’s business took a bit of a beating – a new development was given the go ahead in the area and it quickly monopolised the housing market. For a time it seemed everyone just wanted the new builds. All plans to expand our family were put on hold. Will said he was working non-stop, chasing up leads, trying to generate sales. He had to take a drop in earnings and, I realised later, took out credit in both our names to keep the business afloat.

  He should have declared bankruptcy at this point. He should have told me what was happening with his business and we could have worked through it together. But he didn’t. What he did was blame me. He continued to tell me I was ‘insane’, that I was ruining everything. I was bereft, grieving for the child I was scared I’d never have, and instead of having a husband I could turn to for support, he wasn’t there. And when he was home he was distracted. I tried – I cooked surprise meals, bought him presents, arranged ‘date nights’ so we could have some time alone – but Will wasn’t interested.

  I was crying out for help. I needed him. I was aware that my anxiety was returning, I could spot the signs: I’d started going to bed in the afternoons, I didn’t want to leave the house, was suffering panic attacks and I needed support. But instead of providing care, all Will could do was offer platitudes. He told me I should ‘pull myself together’ and ‘try harder’, which only served to make me worse.

  When I asked him if he was seeing someone else, he declared me hysterical. When the bank called and I tried to make sense of our finances, he said I was behaving irrationally and was jealous over his success. Accusing me of being resentful of how well he was doing and stupid for trying to understand something that I was incapable of. He made it worse. He made it all worse and drove me to the edge.

  When his friend let it slip what was really going on, when I searched his phone and saw all the calls and texts, when I confronted him with the evidence, what he did then was leave us. He admitted to his affair, which was with one of my colleagues, a manager at the car dealership, and it rendered me speechless. It was a woman who knew me, who I trusted. Who knew what I was going through. He declared he’d never loved me, was horrified at the idea of having any more children with me, told me I was crazy, and then went to live with his mistress and her eight-year-old daughter.