‘It’s mine, I suppose?’ Josh snaps.
I wait, hoping Lydia will respond to this with something that will allow me a greater insight into Josh’s treatment of her. Does he try to control what his wife does and who she sees, and is this what she wants me to realise without her having to speak the words aloud? She says nothing, and her silence is all I expect. With Josh here and his attention fixed on her, she is unable to say what she really wants to.
If Lydia can’t speak, she needs me to be the voice that is currently being stifled.
‘We’ve not yet discussed your children,’ I say, running a finger along the neckline of my top and trying to shake myself loose from the grip of the past. ‘Are they aware of any issues between the two of you, do you think?’
‘James is only nine. He’s too young to understand what’s going on.’
Josh shakes his head. ‘That’s not true. I think he understands a lot more than you give him credit for.’
‘And your daughter?’ I ask.
‘Lucy,’ Josh says. ‘She’s a real daddy’s girl. Nothing will come in the way of that.’
I notice the look he gives his wife when he says this and the tone in which the words are spoken, something smug and satisfied in his delivery. His eyes rest on her face, the corner of his lip tilting in a half-smile that has no kindness in it. Are the children being employed as weaponry in this marriage? I wonder. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first relationship in which I have seen this happen, where a couple use children as tools with which to score points against one another. It rarely achieves anything but acrimony, and the children are inevitably the ones who come out of it worst.
‘Lucy is thirteen, you said?’
Lydia nods.
Thirteen is a difficult age, I think. A teenager in number but not yet in maturity, though no longer a child as a nine-year-old still is. Though I have never met the girl, I feel a surge of sympathy for her that pulls at my heart. It is likely that others at her school have heard of the allegation made against her father, and children can be capable of such nastiness when given an opportunity for it. How must this child’s perception of everything she has known to be true have been altered by her father’s arrest?
‘Is she aware of what’s happened?’ I ask. ‘In relation to the allegation?’
Lydia nods. ‘She knows what the girl accused her father of. She doesn’t believe a word of it; she never has.’
There is something uncharacteristically adamant in Lydia’s tone; she is usually so uncertain, seeming to doubt herself and everything she says. I can’t figure out which way her words are intended, whether in defence of Josh or in frustration at her daughter for siding with her father regardless of the accusation, and regardless of what Lydia apparently thinks of him.
‘Have either of the children had any issues at school as a result of the allegation? Apologies,’ I say to Josh, ‘but whatever the outcome of the case, people can be very judgemental, and unfortunately children can be cruel.’
‘Can’t they just,’ he agrees. He clears his throat. ‘They’ve both had problems with bullying. James has become a bit withdrawn, but Lucy deals with things quite differently. She can certainly look after herself. She’s got into a few fights over it.’
He says this so casually that I’m taken by surprise. He couldn’t sound less concerned about his daughter’s involvement in violence, whether instigated by her or as a result of self-defence.
‘When you say fights,’ I ask, ‘do you mean verbal or physical?’
‘Both. The other person usually comes out of it worse.’ He laughs unexpectedly, the sound sharp and forced as it bounces off the walls.
His attitude is all wrong, suggesting he may even encourage his daughter to fight. I study him carefully, wondering just how much of her behaviour he is responsible for. I have always had the attitude that parents cannot be held accountable for everything their children do, but there’s no doubt that everyone is influenced in some way by their upbringing, whether for good or bad.
Josh fixes his eyes on his wife. ‘I’ve tried to warn her, though – she won’t always get away with it. One day she’ll pick a fight with the wrong person and it’ll all backfire.’
Lydia is staring at him intently, a flicker of sadness flashing somewhere behind the resolve in her eyes. Is she jealous of the relationship Josh has with their daughter, of the closeness it seems the two of them share? I wonder if he uses it as a weapon with which to wound his wife. I wonder if he does encourage violence in their daughter, and if so, what exactly that says about him.
‘She tries to defend her brother,’ Lydia says flatly. ‘She always has.’ She turns to me. ‘He’s making it sound as though she’s got some sort of anger problem, but that’s really not the case. She hates injustice, that’s all. She sees the trouble James is having and tries to protect him.’
‘What sort of trouble?’ I ask.
‘Bullying mostly.’
‘As a result of the accusation, or is this something that was already happening?’
‘It was already happening, but after his father’s arrest things got worse. Like you said, kids can be cruel. He doesn’t really understand what’s gone on.’
‘I think he does,’ Josh says. The words are delivered in that sing-song voice again, the one that is obviously designed to irritate his wife. It seems increasingly likely that the intention behind it is to belittle her, which he appears desperate to do at any given opportunity. There is something petulant about him, like the teenage boyfriends Sienna used to bring to the house sometimes, who would carry a cloud of cheap aftershave into the hallway upon their arrival and leave a trail of disappointment behind them when they left.
‘He might think he does,’ Lydia says slowly, ‘but he doesn’t have a clue what’s gone on, not really. He hasn’t seen things properly, not the way Lucy has.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ I ask. ‘What has Lucy seen?’
‘She’s heard conversations,’ Lydia explains. ‘We try to keep them both away from it as much as possible, but she’s aware of arguments and she’s not stupid. I know she’ll have read things as well – we couldn’t keep her away from everything.’
‘What do you think she’s heard, exactly?’ Josh challenges.
Lydia sighs and sits back, pressing her fingertips to her left temple. ‘That argument in the kitchen.’
‘Which one?’ He rolls his eyes as he says this, as though the number of arguments that have taken place makes it difficult to distinguish one from another. I wonder if he ever sees himself responsible in any way for them, or whether Lydia takes the blame. Most of the arguments I had with Damien resulted in him accusing me of being paranoid or hysterical. If I got upset about something, I was overly emotional; if I shut myself off and refused to rise to whatever had sparked that particular row, I was uncaring and heartless. Whatever the resolution – on the occasions when there was one – things were invariably my fault.
‘She heard us talking about the arrest.’
I look from Lydia to Josh, waiting for one of them to offer some further details about the exchange. ‘What do you think she heard?’ I ask, when neither says anything more.
Josh’s eyes widen as he studies his wife’s face, waiting for her to respond in some way. Lydia looks down at her hands, as though it is she who is guilty of something.
‘Oh,’ he says flatly after a moment, as though suddenly recalling the incident to which she is referring. ‘The argument when you said you believed that girl, you mean?’
Lydia’s cheeks flush pink. At first the colour makes her look as though she is embarrassed by Josh’s words – as though she considers her suspicion of him a source of shame – but then I realise it isn’t that. She isn’t embarrassed. She is angry. Fury fills her in a burst of mottled red, and her hands have shrunk into the cushion beneath her, balled into fists.
‘And this is why we argue,’ Josh says, raising a hand and then dropping it: case closed. ‘She doesn’t trust me.
She thinks I’m capable of that, what that girl accused me of … so what’s the point of any of this?’
‘Did Lucy hear you say you believe the accusation, Lydia?’
Lydia nods. She looks up from her lap and bites her lip, fighting back tears that I suspect are ones of frustration rather than sadness.
‘She loves her father very much,’ she says.
Poor Lucy, I think. No matter how great her love for her father – no matter how close the relationship between them – there must be at least a part of her that has considered her mother’s doubt and questioned whether it is in any way justified. There must surely be a voice in her head, regardless of how small, that asks: What if? And what must that voice be doing to her?
‘She doesn’t believe a word of what that girl said,’ Josh reiterates.
‘And what about your son?’ I ask. ‘Has James spoken to either of you about this?’
‘James doesn’t really speak about much,’ Lydia says, finally looking away from her husband.
‘He isn’t stupid,’ says Josh. ‘He knows more than you give him credit for.’
‘Lucy is a very perceptive girl,’ Lydia continues, wiping her eyes and ignoring Josh as though he hasn’t spoken. ‘She’s older than her years in many ways. She sees things a lot of people might miss. I don’t know exactly how much she heard, but it wouldn’t have taken her long to join the dots.’
My heart swells in my chest for this child, caught in the mess created by the adults in her life. It is in no way her doing, yet she will suffer for it in years to come. But isn’t this the result of most traumas children are forced to face? Divorce, separation, abuse, neglect … all innocence is at some point lost to the hands of an adult, whether intentionally or unwittingly. Though I still know so little of her, it seems to me that Lucy is a loyal child whose opinion isn’t easily swayed by the judgement of others. If Lydia isn’t convinced of her husband’s innocence, her daughter’s faith in him might be difficult for her to accept.
‘Beyond the allegation, how would you describe your relationship with the children?’
They glance at one another, neither knowing which one of them is expected to answer first.
‘Lucy and I are very close,’ Josh tells me, taking the lead. ‘James is a bit distant sometimes, but that’s just his way. He’s a deep thinker, he always has been. He finds it difficult to get close to people.’
‘You don’t show him the love you show her,’ Lydia says slowly, her words drawn out. ‘He obviously knows it. It’s the reason he’s the way he is.’
Josh’s face changes instantly and he looks at Lydia with an expression of sheer contempt. I wonder how often this argument has arisen between the two. I get the impression that the subject isn’t new and has been responsible for friction between the couple for some time.
‘What do you mean by that, Lydia? “The way he is”?’
She adjusts herself in her seat, her tears now dried. In these past few moments it seems something has changed; she has found a resilience that was not long ago failing her. ‘James is insecure,’ she says, keeping her focus on Josh. ‘He doesn’t trust people and he questions everything. He puts on this big performance, trying to make people believe he’s tougher than he is, but I see what they don’t. He can be flippant, as though he doesn’t care about anything or anyone, but beneath it all he’s just a scared little boy desperate for his daddy’s love.’
Josh slams a fist against the side of the sofa, taking both of us by surprise. ‘You’re talking shit!’ I see her flinch beside me as he stands and goes to the window, his back to us as he waits for his emotion to ease. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists. She has hit a nerve. Is he angry at her misreading of his treatment of their son, or is his reaction based on the knowledge that everything she has said is an accurate portrayal of the situation?
‘Josh,’ I say, my tone a warning. He needs to control his temper, or the session will be ended. There won’t be an invitation for a fifth.
He turns back to us, his face flushed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with him, or there wasn’t until you got your claws into him.’
Beside me, Lydia’s face has changed. Her lip is quivering with the onset of tears, and when they begin to escape her, I stand, go to the sideboard and offer her a tissue from the box I keep there. I stare at her husband long enough for him to read the look. If he knows he has behaved inappropriately, there is nothing to suggest it in the way he looks back at me.
‘Thank you,’ Lydia says through a sob, putting the tissue to her face.
‘Here we go,’ Josh says with a roll of his eyes, his tone cruel and filled with venom.
‘Josh,’ I say sternly, adopting a tone that sounds like that of an exasperated parent. I don’t intend it to, but this couple bicker like children and my response seems to come as a natural reaction to their behaviour. ‘Let’s remember why you’re here. If this is going to work, you need to stay calm and treat each other with respect.’
‘This is what she does,’ he says, frustrated by my apparent siding with his wife. I know this is what he thinks; I’ve seen the way he looks at me and rolls his eyes whenever I say anything that might be construed as support for her. ‘She turns on the waterworks and everyone takes pity on her. I’m always the bad guy, aren’t I, Lydia?’
He stretches out the syllables of her name, drawling them as though drunk. That sing-song, taunting tone is back, mocking her. This shouldn’t be about taking sides, but if I had to choose, it would be Lydia every time. I see someone else in her. I see myself.
‘If you want this session to continue, Josh, I suggest you sit down.’
I expect him to respond with a sarcastic comment; instead, he sits back on the sofa like a reprimanded schoolboy. Lydia is dabbing her eyes with a tissue. I find myself feeling immense pity for her. Josh is volatile and defensive, and it is little surprise that she has found herself unable to discuss their problems with him without the presence of a third party.
‘The accusation has obviously put immense pressure on you all as a family, but what you need to remember is that your children look up to you to be the strong ones in this situation. You set the example on this, as with everything else. Do they know you come here?’
Lydia shakes her head. ‘We try to keep our problems away from them as much as we can do. It isn’t fair on them – James is having enough trouble at school as it is.’
‘He hates school,’ Josh adds. ‘Every day is a battle just to get him there.’
‘Is this still in relation to the accusation made against you?’
He shakes his head.
‘He’s always had problems,’ Lydia says.
‘He doesn’t have problems.’
‘He does. The doctor picked up on something before he was even two years old.’
‘Picked up on what?’ I ask.
‘That’s bullshit,’ Josh snaps, cutting across my question.
‘No it’s not. It’s true. There was always something different with James, even from a young age.’
‘Different?’ Josh asks, defensively. ‘In what way different?’
‘You know.’
‘Obviously not, that’s why I’m asking.’
‘It should be obvious.’
‘Well it isn’t.’
Having spent some time with the couple now, I realise that this tennis match of obtuse comments could persist for some time without my intervention. ‘What did the doctor say about your son?’ I ask. ‘Was he diagnosed with something?’
‘Never formally,’ Lydia tells me, ‘but he made it obvious he thought James might have autism or Asperger’s.’
I am unprepared for what happens next. Josh lunges from his seat and throws himself towards Lydia as though he is going to grab her by the throat. The tray is knocked from the coffee table, sending tea and milk splashing onto the carpet. I spring from my chair without thinking – my body responding instinctively with a fight-or-flight reaction – yet Lydia doesn’t move. She rem
ains fixed to the sofa, rooted there in fear; not responding either to Josh or to me as I step in front of her. Yet even before I get there, I realise I am not needed. In that split second in which it seems Josh is going to assault her, he changes his mind, his anger either instantly dissolved or immediately restrained in order to keep its true potential concealed from my view.
He opens his mouth to say something, looks at me and holds whatever it is inside himself. His hands are still curled into fists at his sides. Threat lurks in the room, a tangible fourth party, and I am thrown back to a time I do all I can to try to forget. I remember this feeling vividly, as if it can touch me, though it has been years since I experienced it for what was the first and only time.
What are you going to do about it?
I never want to feel again the way I did that day, and it was one of the things Sean was reassured about when I told him of my plans to set up on my own and run my sessions from home. Being here meant I could use his presence as a deterrent, even on days when he wasn’t in the house. But Sean isn’t here to protect me any more.
Though I have had the thought so many times before, once again it hits me with the force of a blow. His absence deafens me with its silence, its echoes bouncing from every empty corner of this house. I miss Sean with a pain that is physical, and no number of couples seeking my help will replace what has been lost, though I confess to needing them as much as they appear to need me.
The redness that flared in Josh’s face subsides and he moves to the window, standing with his back to us. The view of the garden seems to calm him, which was exactly why I chose this room to work from. His fists begin to relax, his fingers twitching as his anger slips away from him. Beside me, Lydia hasn’t moved or spoken. I look down at her. Her mouth is set in a grimace, yet the rest of her features are somehow emptied and expressionless. When she looks up at me, it seems as though she might start to cry again.
The Divorce: A gripping psychological thriller with a fantastic twist Page 7