Perfect Ten
Page 28
‘Come on, kids. Home!’
They rush towards me and I drop to my knees and hug them. Emma watches, arms folded. She turns and walks away.
Charlie takes my face in his hands.
‘I told you we’d come back, Mummy. I told you.’
The tears flow and a huge wave of relief rides over the part of me that has fought for this moment with every fibre of my being. We go inside and they run up to their rooms, squealing with delight at the new tablets and bouncing on their beds. Laura shouts downstairs.
‘Mummy. Mummy. Can I have a drink?’
It suddenly all feels normal, as if nothing ever happened and Jack has just disappeared. But the still-simmering anxiety I feel inside assures me that nothing is normal and he is still there in the background. Or is he?
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket and it’s a text from Lee: ‘What colour do you want that cupboard painting?’
It’s already more choice than Jack ever gave me and I think he and Emma deserve each other. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start to the rest of my life.
Chapter Forty-four
Three months later
It’s Laura’s birthday and we’re having a party. Since they came home, the kids have been telling me about Daddy and Aunty Emma and how they used to go away for weekends and leave them with Nana and Jamie.
Laura took my hand one day and said that she loved me very much, but she missed Elijah, Nana’s cat. I searched deep inside my soul that day, looking carefully for a reaction. Something that would make me act on the emotions that this conjured up for me. There is nothing. You see, part of my problem now is guilt. A terrible sinking feeling when I recall what I did. The hate I felt for those women.
One of the bitchier members of staff tried to engage me in the staffroom with talk about mixing business with pleasure. I knew where it was leading and I was right.
‘The thing is, Caroline, I don’t understand why you would go to such lengths. Social experiment, yah.’ She touched her chin in faux consideration. ‘I just don’t see why you were so upset. This kind of thing happens every day. And, you know, the effects …’
I knew what she meant. She meant the effect on my children. I’ve seen the looks, even when it was all ongoing, the questioning glances. No wonder she lost her children. Look at her. She doesn’t deserve to have them back.
I even thought it myself. My mission for revenge was so intense, I was so engaged with Jack, or who I thought he was, that I thought of almost nothing else. But it was always a means to an end. Of course I went the wrong fucking way about it. Of course I did.
In the final analysis, I was damaged. I endured a life of mind games, abuse and isolation, until I had to find a safe place, somewhere inside me, somewhere to hide. The in-between. And to get there I took the alcohol route. I was literally falling apart. The lies Jack spun – and he was very convincing – meant that people abandoned me.
By the time Jack’s suitcases arrived the cracks were already wide, but I never completely fell apart. My love for my children was the glue that held me together. And hope. Hope for a future with them in it. As that future slipped away, all sense and reason fell through the cracks and I adopted an ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’ mentality. Fight fire with fire. I shudder as I realise that I almost became the feckless piece of shit that he is.
But I didn’t. No matter how angry I was, how much hate-filled revenge I planned, and carried out, I always had remorse. I hid in the in-between from myself, because that wasn’t me. Isn’t me. I do deserve to have my children back. Even though I’m damaged, I deserve a second chance. And I’ll prove it.
I carefully place the cake I have baked in the middle of the table. Paula and Patti arrive, and I hug them both. Paula’s been my rock, my sounding board. She’s so happy with Patti and a million miles away from the insecure teenager she was.
Katy arrives with Jamie and he runs off to play in the garden. Lee’s out there supervising; he’s filled in the hole and grassed it over. I feel a bit funny every time he looks at me and, when the kids aren’t looking, I kiss him. And he kisses me back. He’s only stayed over once, when Charlie and Laura went to stay with Jack and Emma for the night. He brought a plant with him and put it on my kitchen windowsill. They came back telling me that ‘Daddy’s house is nice but he’s going away on business and Aunty Emma will be there alone for a while so we can’t go again until he comes back’.
I know what ‘going away on business’ is and I momentarily felt sorry for Emma; I know she’ll be smiling bravely and ironing his collars and checking his phone. But I feel nothing for Jack. No hate. Certainly no love. Just a welcome distance.
It turns out Lee is excellent at decorating and, as I watched his long strokes cover the scrapes from the flying tiara and the lipstick on my bedroom wall, I felt the sadness drain from me, replaced with something soft and mellow.
He stayed that night, but told me that he wouldn’t stay while the children were here. Not at first. He didn’t want them to be confused. I appreciated that more than anything, because it meant that he was thinking about all of us and not just himself.
Katy sits at the table with us and there we are, #allgirlstogether. But we’re not a bunch of miraculously repaired women whose lives are suddenly wonderful. No. Patti reaches into her bag. She’s rock chick on the outside, but softly spoken. She works in graphic design and she’s made me a poster. She holds it up.
‘DON’T ENGAGE.’
Paula laughs loudly.
‘See, Caz, that’s what I was on about. If you feel the pull towards a fake profile or hunting down an ex, just look at this.’
She stands it up on top of the fridge. Katy laughs too.
‘Can you make me one? I might need a reminder as well.’
It’s not funny, but laughter is a coping strategy. Like stoicism. I open a bottle of wine and pour them a glass each, but I have lemonade. For the time being. We silently acknowledge broken lives and I vow that I’ll do everything I can to make my children’s lives the best they can be.
I’ve only known Lee three months, but I’ve talked to him about my regret. I told him everything: all my feelings, all about the Premier Inn men. All about how Jack treated me. He didn’t say much, but his advice was to put as much right as I could without giving in. I can tell we are going to get on.
I look out over the garden now. Jamie is chasing Laura, and Charlie is tying up a net to some goalposts. Jamie’s going to stay over tonight while Katy goes out with friends. A five-year-old little girl, Faith, runs up to Lee shouting ‘Daddy’ and I’m reminded that all our lives are intermingled with each other’s, and none of them are perfect. But they are, with care, love and understanding, manageable.
Lee comes into the house and puts an arm casually around my shoulder. We look over to the shape huddled in a blanket on a deckchair.
‘That was nice of you. Really nice. You’re a good person.’
He kisses me lightly.
‘Do you want to take her a cup of tea, seeing as she won’t come in and sit with us?’
He pours a cup and I watch as he goes outside and hands it to Missy. She glances sideways at me and I swear I see the beginnings of a smile. Or maybe I imagined it. I haven’t forgiven her fully, but it’s not about me, is it? The children asked if Nana could come over for the party and I didn’t hesitate. She’s been a huge part of their lives for the past year and they love her. So it’s only right.
I mull over what would happen if they wanted Daddy to come over. While I feel nothing for him, I haven’t forgiven him. I don’t think I ever will.
But I will forgive myself.
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank everyone at Corvus Atlantic Books, particularly my editor Sara O’Keeffe for her amazing insight and Susannah Hamilton for her guidance. Thank you all for believing in me and Caroline. The whole team is so wonderful and an absolute pleasure to work with, I am so lucky.
None of this would have been poss
ible without my friend and agent Judith Murray, who saw Caroline for who she really is and helped me to shape Perfect Ten in the early drafts. Thank you for all the advice, the encouragement and the apricot soufflé – you have changed my life. Thank you to everyone at Green and Heaton for your warm welcome.
Thank you so much to the Refuge and Women’s Aid, the domestic violence charities. I already understood domestic violence through my work, but my further research for this book uncovered dedicated professionals who struggle daily with communicating the complexity of abuse. To those people, thank you for making a difference.
I simply cannot list all the fellow writers who have helped me over the years as the list would be too long. But thank you all for examples of persistence and success. In particular, big love to Anstey Spraggan, who has relentlessly listened to me almost every day since we met at a book launch ten years ago. I’m also grateful to my friends Bridget Davison and Lindsay Bowes for early readings of the finished manuscript and their comments. Also to Elinor Davies, who was enthusiastic about Caroline’s story and listened endlessly.
Massive thanks to my family. To my mum. Whilst she entered the world of dementia and we waited in the memory clinic, we amused ourselves with ‘woman number 9’ and tried to imagine all the revenge scenarios that a someone could have been in. You are there, mum, in those pages – this is for you.
To my children, Michelle, Victoria and Toby, thank you for your love and encouragement to have the confidence to write. To my brothers who are a constant in an ever-changing world. To my grandchildren, Evan, Leah, Lincoln and Phoenix – you are amazing.
I could not have achieved any of this without my partner, Eric Bourdiec. Eternal thanks for your advice on ‘reining in the crazy’, your support, your love and your cups of tea.
Contents
Title
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Chapter Thirty-four
Chapter Thirty-five
Chapter Thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-eight
Chapter Thirty-nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-one
Chapter Forty-two
Chapter Forty-three
Chapter Forty-four
Acknowledgements