The Torn Up Marriage

by Caroline Roberts

  Michael had to smile.

  “But it’s all been worth it for the good times.” George continued, “For that stability.”

  The word echoed in Michael’s mind. Isn’t that just what Kate had said the girls needed the other day?

  “For your family,” George continued, “Do you know how much that meant, watching you two boys grow up, and then the grandchildren? There’s so much pleasure from providing that stable home life. Seeing your children grow up and settle.” He paused a moment, adding, “There’s a whole world out there, Michael. And believe it or not, it’s not just about you.” He paused once more. “So, what are you going to do when this all blows over, fizzles out? Do you go off and start looking for another one?”

  God, he was making him sound like a shallow bastard.

  “I’ve always been so proud of you, Michael,” he continued, “But this… This is something you should be ashamed of.”

  Michael had to look away a second. The words hurt. They were meant to.

  But Michael needed to explain his side of the story. “Look, I know it seems selfish of me, Dad. But Kate and I have had problems for a long time now. I just don’t seem to be able to make her happy any more. It’s hard to explain, but I never seem to be able to do anything right for her. She’d get annoyed if I came in late from work, accusing me of upsetting the girls’ routine. I was working for them, trying to do the best for them. Then, we’d either row about things or she’d blank me. That can’t be healthy for the girls to see. I wasn’t happy. Haven’t been for a long time.”

  “Do you think it’s your God-given right to be happy all the time, Michael? Do you think Kate was happy living like that, either? Did you not try and talk about it? It’s not always easy looking after young ones all the time, even if they are your own. Did you stop to consider how she might be feeling? Offer to help?”

  “Of course I did.”

  He had tried. He had tried now and again to talk it through, to get through to Kate, but most of the time he felt as though it was a wall he couldn’t penetrate.

  “Did you try hard enough?”

  It was a doubt that still niggled in Michael’s own mind. “I just can’t see how we can make things right?”

  “Well, maybe you should start looking, son. Maybe you should start looking.” George finally unfolded his arms. “One day you’re going to wake up and realise what you’ve done. And it might be too late by then. There’s only so much hurt a person can take. Only so much forgiving a person can do… Don’t leave it too late, Michael.”

  The stare his father gave him was unnerving.

  Michael stood quietly. He’d been torn off a strip. In some ways he deserved it, he knew. God! It wasn’t as if he’d been letting himself off lightly, either. The guilt followed him around like a millstone. But he knew how he felt about Sophie. He wanted more than just an existence, a watered-down marriage where you just got on with the everyday. He needed more than that; he needed passion, closeness. He wanted to make someone happy again. It wasn’t just about him. It wasn’t just about sex. Yes, he wanted to feel that adrenalin rush of love, that desire, but he wanted to give it too, to make someone else truly happy. He felt he had that with Sophie. It was a foundation for the future.

  He couldn’t begin to describe all that to his father. All he found himself saying was, “I’m sorry if I’ve let you down, you and Mum.” There was a mistiness in his eyes as he continued, “But I’ll do everything I can to look after my girls. Sophie is a good person, Dad. The girls are just getting to know her. Soon it’ll be easier for everyone. I’m trying my best, Dad. You know I’ll do anything not to hurt those girls.”

  “I know,” George conceded, sounding tired now. “I know. Come on, let’s go and join them in the garden.” It was as much of a truce as they were going to get.

  “How’s work going anyway? How did the meeting go this morning?” They were back talking about the usual. Settling down at the garden table, smiling at the girls, reassuring Dorothy with warm glances that they were okay, still talking to each other, having tea and sandwiches, sitting in the May sunshine with the sweet peas and the wasps, holding a family together by its thinnest of threads.

  He hadn’t rushed away, but he had wanted some time on his own with the girls, too. As they were about to set off, he gave them free rein about where they might spend the last two hours they had together.

  “The beach.” It was Charlotte’s idea.

  “Beach, Emmie?”

  “Yes, Daddy. Beach and ice cream.” She grinned as he did up the strap on her car seat.

  They waved at Dorothy and George there on the front step. There were goodbyes and smiles all round.

  “Okay, well I’m sure we can find an ice cream somewhere, too, though not straight away. Aren’t you full up after all those cakes?” He even had a goodie bag from them in the front foot well to take back for Kate.

  They wound their way through country lanes and small villages, heading for the coast. The girls sat in the back chattering.

  “Daddy?” It was Charlotte. He glanced at her in the rear-view mirror, her face was stony serious. “Daddy, when are you coming home?”

  He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Were they still waiting for him to come back? As if his flat, his life with Sophie was just a holiday or something?

  “Umn,” he stalled for time, trying to phrase it right, crunched the gears as he slowed for a corner. “Well, the thing is, sweetheart, I’m not coming home, not to live any more. I live with Sophie now. In the flat.”

  “Oohh,” Lottie’s voice wobbled. In the mirror he saw her face drop with disappointment.

  Emily started then, “Want Daddy home.”

  “Well, why don’t you want to live with Mummy and us? Did we do something wrong?” Charlotte persisted.

  He let out a sigh, spotted a layby, pulled over and took off his driving glasses. This was too hard to do without eye contact, and probably too damn dangerous whilst driving along, the way his guts were churning up.

  “Oh girls, girls, is that what you think, that you did something wrong? No, no it’s nothing you’ve done.” He turned to face them both, fixing a reassuring smile on his face. “I wish, I really wish I could still live with you, but I can’t… It’s just that things between me and Mummy have gone wrong. I wish they hadn’t, but they have.” How could he phrase this without making Kate seem to blame, yet without going into the harsh adult world of his affair, his betrayal? Come clean, a little voice told him, keep it simple, but don’t lie, “Umn. If anybody’s done something wrong it’s me, okay? I haven’t been that good. I’ve made Mummy unhappy and because of that we don’t want to live together right now. I’m sorry if it’s hard for you both.”

  “But if you made Mummy happy again? Couldn’t you come home?” Charlotte’s voice was full of such hope, as if she’d suddenly worked it all out. “She’s really sad, you know. You could say sorry and cheer her up again.”

  “Oh Lottie, it’s not that easy, sweetheart. It doesn’t always work like that in the grown-up world.” The grown-up, fucked-up world, where love could drift away, even when you didn’t want it to and where you could fall in love with someone else, whether it was right or wrong. A world where you hurt people. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can cheer her up. I think it’s me who’s still making her sad.”

  “Oh,” Charlotte’s tone was flat. “So you’re still going to be in Sophie’s house?”

  Emily sat there quietly, taking it all in.

  “Yes, I’m still going to be in Sophie’s house. And you can come and stay and see me. Or we can go for days out like today.” He leant forwards, taking off his seat belt so he could reach through to them in the back, taking their hands in his. “Girls, listen, I’ll always be around for you, even if I can’t live in our house with you any more. And remember that I love you, okay? I’ll always love you.”

  They were listening intently, their angelic faces serious.

  Lottie spoke first,
“Always and forever?”

  “Promise?” Emily backing her up.

  “Always and forever, absolutely.” He grasped their hands in a promise.

  “Okay,” Charlotte, her voice brighter now, “Can we go to the beach now?”

  “Certainly, madam.” He put his belt back on and his glasses, swallowed the knot in his throat and put the car into gear.

  They parked up at Embleton, next to an ice-cream van at the top of the lane, which pleased the girls no end. They made their way with Mr Whippy dripping down their wrists through the golf course and spiky dunes to the beach. The girls stopped, sitting on a verge to finish their cornets, where Michael helped them to take off their shoes, which were filling with sand. Michael looked down at himself, his work attire suddenly seemed ridiculous here on the beach. He took off his leather slip-ons and shook them out, then ended up juggling the three pairs of shoes in the crook of one arm. But what the heck! It was worth it just to see the grins that were plastered across the girls’ faces as they scampered off across the pale-gold sands. His two girls skipped, giggling, into the cool shallows of the stream that ran from the land out to sea; drops of rain that had fallen a day or so ago now wending their way to the vast ocean.

  He placed their shoes in a row and sat down on the sand to roll his black suit trousers up past his knees. He watched his daughters for a second, revelling in their smiles. Definitely one of his better achievements, surely the best by far – that pair of golden-haired trouble-makers. God help him when they came to hit puberty, bringing home their first boyfriends… and the years suddenly stretched out before him in his mind. Yet he couldn’t quite picture his place in it all. He’d be there for them, yes. But who was he with? Was it Sophie there, growing old with him? Or would he fuck the whole thing up from now on and end up on his own, a lonely old man. He probably deserved it. His Dad’s words from earlier: “Did you try hard enough?” echoing around his head like a warning, along with memories of another time on the beach, splashing around on a sunny day. God, yes, this beach; he and Kate and the girls when they were tiny. He’d been carrying that backpack thing, Emily in it, just a baby. Now look at her running about. And now this… None of them could have guessed where life would lead them.

  But there was no going back; he couldn’t just glue them all back together, however much the girls hoped for it, he knew that. A part of him felt so very sad, wished they had never come apart, but that was unrealistic – it had happened.

  “Daddy, look.” It was Emily holding out a crab’s claw in her palm.

  “Wow! That belonged to a crab, Emmie.”

  “Is it still alive?” Charlotte was curious.

  “Oh no, it’s just his leg. He’s already dead. We might find a whole one if we look carefully in the rock pools. But be careful, they pinch.” He made pincer moves with his finger and thumb, moving in to tickle Emily. “Now let’s see what else we can find.” They strolled off down through the stream, splashing up the water. He noticed a couple sitting watching them from the safety of their picnic blanket, their two children digging sandcastles beside them. The woman’s smile seemed almost smug as she glanced at the three of them. It unnerved him, like he had “Saturday Dad” printed all over his forehead.

  But, hey, that’s what he was now. That’s exactly what he bloody well was. Well, so be it! He’d be the best bloody Saturday Dad ever.

  “Race you,” he started dashing towards the sea, those very words starting a new echo in his mind: Kate’s words, from that day out years ago, mocking him.

  “Come on!” he persevered in the present. The girls were fast on his heels, as he slowed to let them enjoy the chase, zigzagging through the rolling waves, getting his black work trousers caked in gloopy sand and salt water. No matter, they could go to the dry cleaners. And they were jumping the white frothy waves of the shallows, a daughter each side of him, hand in hand in a row. Like those paper people cut-outs, yet one was now missing.

  He dropped the girls off tired, sandy and laden with fairy cakes. He’d got to the house at bang on five o’clock, as promised. He made sure he wasn’t late. Kate was there at the doorway. Yes, she did look tired and pale, his father was right. She’d lost weight too, he hadn’t noticed that till now, but she was still pretty, she always had been pretty.

  And there he was, standing next to his wife, who was thanking him politely for bringing the girls home on time, then closing the door on him.

  Chapter 20

  Kate was standing in the cashpoint queue. She always felt uneasy in town nowadays, dreading the thought of bumping into Michael and Sophie again. Or, even worse, just Sophie on her own. She wasn’t sure if she might burst out crying or end up poking her eyes out, and say something reckless or spiteful just for the sake of it. But she needed to get a birthday present, as Charlotte was going to a friend’s party tomorrow after school. It would have to be something small as finances were a bit tight. Michael was still giving her and the girls an allowance, but she couldn’t afford to waste it; there was no going back for more. In fact, she had even wondered about going back to work again. She’d feel happier with some financial independence, though it’d probably be easier to find something once Emily was at school full time next year. However she could always look at something part time for now, whilst she was still at nursery.

  “Hello, Kate.”

  She turned cautiously to find it was her neighbour, Graeme.

  “How are you?” he continued with a gentle smile that lit up his hazel eyes. He was dressed for work in a navy suit, white shirt and purple patterned tie.

  “Oh, I’m okay, thanks. You?”

  “Yeah, good. Just had a meeting with clients, heading back to the office.”

  “Oh.” Yes, that was it, he worked in the accountants on Bondgate.

  He lingered a second as she moved one up the cashpoint queue. “Umn, do you have time for a coffee?” He seemed a little shy. “I’m not due back for another quarter of an hour or so.”

  “Ah, yes, okay. Thanks.” Why not? She wasn’t in any rush. It was only back to her own four walls until she went to collect Emily at lunchtime.

  “Great. I’ll just give you a second to get sorted there.”

  He moved politely to one side, whilst she got her cash.

  “Gianni’s in the square sound okay?”

  “Yes, that’d be lovely.”

  They strolled past the flower shop, the baker’s and through the cool shadows of a narrow alley into the square, chatting on about the everyday. It was market day, the cobbled square was busy with white-tented stalls of fruit and vegetables, cup cakes and brownies, colourful scarves, handmade soaps and crafts, jewellery. They found two stools in the window area of the café. She’d ordered a latte, he an Americano. The huge chrome coffee machine steamed and gurgled behind the counter, the smell was gorgeous. She realised that she hadn’t been out for a coffee for months, had barely been able to face the world of late. She must meet up with Mel some time, she’d been promising to for ages, and then hadn’t actually done anything about it. She still felt mortified about that night with the girls, not that Mel had made her feel awkward in any way the next time they’d met. She said they’d understood. That Debs was really sorry. She made a mental note to ask Mel out for a coffee soon.

  Whilst Graeme waited at the counter, she watched a pigeon wandering about on the cobbles, pecking at crumbs dropped by the group of teenagers who were busy chatting and munching away on pasties poking out of Gregg’s bags, as they sat on the steps beneath the market cross.

  “Cake or anything?” Graeme turned to her.

  “No thanks. Just the latte’s fine.”

  The wooden shelves around them were piled high with dried pastas, jars of olive oil, antipasto and Amoretti biscuits. A fridge-style counter to the side was laden with salami, olives, cheeses and tiramisu. It all looked very nice, but she still didn’t really have much of an appetite, just eating enough to keep herself going these days, though her mother kept chiding her a
bout looking after herself. But it was hard when more than a few mouthfuls still made her feel queasy.

  “Your coffees.” The burly, yet friendly, Italian proprietor passed them over to Graeme.

  “Thanks.”

  As they sat together she asked about his work, his running, the dog, chattering on, both of them initially avoiding the subject of Michael.

  Then he looked up. “How have you been?” His kind hazel eyes questioned hers.

  “Well, I’ve been better.” She could be honest. He’d been there himself, knew how it felt. “It’s been a hard slog, Graeme. I’ve never felt like this before in my life. Never had to go through anything like this.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty crap isn’t it?” He gave an understanding smile. “But you do… You will get through it. ”

  Yet he still had that quiet, sad air about him, the air of someone who had known loss.

  “It’s not quite as bad as early on, I suppose, when I first found out,” she continued. “But then, I get up and down days.”

  “Well, that’s only natural. And the girls, how are they coping with it all?”

  “Oh, so so. I’m worried about them, actually. They seem more unsettled lately, especially Emily.” She’d wet the bed last night, another worrying development. She’d been dry at night for the last six months, and now this. It was as if it was only now sinking in for them; that Daddy really wasn’t coming home.

  “That’s a shame. But it’s bound to be hard for them. They’re so young, such lovely little girls…At least there were no children to get mixed up in it all, in our case…” His gaze drifted away a second.

  Kate wondered if he and his ex-wife had talked of children? Had he had his dreams of a family broken, as well as his heart?

  She sipped her coffee. “Anyway, things will get easier for us, I’m sure. One day at a time.” She didn’t want to dwell on the hurt any more.

  “Yeah, they will, Kate. They will.”

  He covered her hand with his own, an unexpected gesture. She felt its warmth, its dependability. She looked up, he held her gaze for a fraction too long. “You’re not on your own, you know.” And she suddenly knew that there was more to this, that he liked her as more than just a friend, and she didn’t know what to think for a moment. Maybe, she’d got it wrong, was reading too much into it, but the look in his eyes spoke of genuine affection, possibly more. Well, hey, the fact that anyone found her attractive was a bit of a miracle these days. She managed a small smile. And if he liked her, well, she was okay with that.