The Torn Up Marriage

by Caroline Roberts

  “It’s all the other stuff she takes on.” George continued, “Her day at the charity shop, baking cakes for goodness knows how many fetes and coffee mornings, governor meetings for the village school,” he muttered, spooning out Nescafé for Kate and Dorothy and making tea for himself.

  “Ah, I see. Well, make sure she takes it easy, and if I can help at all…?”

  “Oh, I’ll look after her, don’t you worry.” And Kate was certain he would; his steady love would support them both. And for a second she felt envious of that constancy – the breakdown of her own marriage stark in her mind.

  The girls had had a lovely time, their sunny smiles from the back of the car said as much, and Kate was extremely grateful for that. But she felt a pang of loneliness, of confusion at what had just happened with Graeme, and much more that she couldn’t begin to identify, as she drove away, knowing it was time to go back to their fractured home.

  Chapter 23

  Kate was there, across the street. She looked radiant, happy as she walked, her blonde hair swinging at her shoulders. He hadn’t seen her like that for such a long time. Then she was closer, just across the room, standing by the fireplace, their living room. She was smiling at him. He tried to get up, walk over to her, but he seemed fixed. There was a tightness in his chest.

  Light in his eyes: a different room, cream walls. He was lying down. The tightness still there in his chest, trapped like yearning. He felt startled, unsure. Next to him on coffee-coloured pillows was a sweep of auburn hair. He scanned the face, the rounded cheeks, lips a curved pout. Sophie. Oh God! Yes.

  He lay and took a long breath, waiting for his pounding heart to calm, for the beating in his ears to stop. It had just seemed so real, so vivid, seeing Kate again like that, as her twenty-something self. Kate as she was, not the one made frail by hurt and life. It jarred within him. But it was just a dream, of course. He was here with Sophie.

  His new love turned sleepily towards him, her arm reaching across his torso as she snuggled in. She was slowly coming to, hmn…, she might even fancy morning sex. In a weird way that wouldn’t seem quite right just now… Mind you, he might be persuaded. He smiled to himself at the thought.

  Ah no, that wasn’t likely. Sex wouldn’t be on the agenda. The girls were here, he remembered, just in the next room. It was his weekend to have them. Two weeks since they’d stayed with his mother. Oh yes, they often came into their bedroom early, plunging onto the double bed, bouncing around. So no, sex was usually a no-goer with the girls about in the mornings.

  And that was it, within seconds, a scramble of footsteps, the door blasting open, Charlotte in first. “Daddy! Sophie! Wake up.” She was bouncing on Michael’s side of the bed, “You promised we’d go and see the puffins today.”

  “Aah, yes. So we did. So we did.” He ruffled her fine, blonde hair.

  Sophie came to, stretching out with a yawn, trying to sound chirpy, “Hi, honey.” She still found it hard, these rude awakenings.

  Emily appeared and crept in quietly, still sleepy and crawled into Sophie’s side of the bed, for the first time ever, cuddling in. Sophie gave Michael a surprised smile; he gave her a thumbs-up signal back. A small but significant breakthrough. These early weeks had been difficult. The girls seemed fine with him, but he’d noticed they were often tense and sometimes tearful with Sophie, especially after that bloody duvet incident. However hard she tried, chatting with them, getting them small gifts, taking them to the park, the shops, there always seemed a barrier there.

  As for Sophie, she lay with the small child next to her, hoping this was the start of things improving. In all honesty, she had just wanted Michael, hadn’t bargained for a whole instant family, and it wasn’t always easy. The toddler-style tears and tantrums could wear you down. And it seemed that outside of work, the girls took up so much of Michael’s time, they hardly had a spare day together as a couple. But she daren’t say too much. It hadn’t been easy for Michael, either. Now, finally, this small nugget of acceptance from Emily gave her a warm feeling inside.

  Michael, cuddling Charlotte, smiled across at the other two. Maybe things could work out. Naively, all those months ago, he imagined the fling had just been about him and Sophie, something he could contain just for the two of them, but life didn’t work like that, did it? There was so much other stuff to work out, especially when you already had a family, a home. The image of Kate was still fast in his mind.

  An hour and a half later they were parked up at Seahouses harbour. It was busy; the school summer holidays. The weeks had rolled on. They’d only just managed to find a space. They made their way down the cobbled slipway next to the lifeboat station and onto the harbour itself. Michael had booked them a boat trip to see the puffins and if they were lucky, hopefully, the grey seals on the Farne Islands. They spotted “Bobby’s” red- and-black-painted tour boat and made their way down the narrow stone steps to board it. The sea was somewhat choppy even inside the harbour. It was a bit of a wobble just trying to get on board, which made the girls chuckle, especially when Sophie nearly lost an expensive jewelled toe-post sandal down the gap. It was August, but the weather wasn’t playing fair as per usual.

  A middle-aged couple, wrapped up in matching red anoraks, smiled across at them in welcome. Another family turned up a few minutes later dressed in an array of plastic rain macs and trainers, chattering noisily, the two plump boys barging each other for the best seat, much to the amusement of Emily and Charlotte. After a brief introduction and safety instructions from Captain Bobby, which made Sophie turn a little green, they were off.

  The captain was a weathered looking grey-haired man with twinkling blue eyes and an uncanny likeness to Captain Birdseye, Michael mused. As they turned out from the harbour into the expanse of the North Sea the boat lurched from side to side, choppy grey waves slapping the wooden sides, sending up salty spray that stung their eyes. Michael made sure the girls were seated close to him and Sophie, with a hand tight on each of them.

  “It’ll settle in a minute or two,” the weathered seaman assured them.

  Michael sat back, rolling with the motion, and began to enjoy the adventure, “Okay you two?”

  The girls grinned widely, “Ye–es.”

  Sophie was quiet, hoping to God she wouldn’t get seasick. This was not her idea of a great day out. Champagne at the Newcastle quayside was more her idea of a water-based outing.

  They bobbed along for about twenty minutes, the stone-walled harbour and red roofs of the town shrinking behind them. The lurching motion calmed to more of a lulling rocking and Sophie managed to relax a little. As they neared the islands, strange small darting creatures flew low alongside the boat, dipping in and out of the water; they showed flashes of orange and red, as well as the black and white of the body.

  “Puffins!” Charlotte was pointing.

  “Ooh yes, look.” “Aren’t they cute?” “And fast.” “But aren’t they much smaller than you think?” The back of the boat exploded into animated chatter. The children leaned over the side, trying to get a better look, Michael holding them tight. The birds darted just above the water. Strange, he’d imagined puffins to be sitting quietly perched on the rocks, like you see on postcards.

  The boat slowed as they neared the island, so they could see better. Above the rocky shoreline were mud and grass slopes, peppered with what looked like rabbit holes. A frantic interchange of birds darting to and fro.

  “Ooh, look at all the poo!” Emily screwed up her face, making the rest of the day-trippers smile. And there was in fact heaps of it, splattered up the rocks and on the banks.

  “Now, where do you think the puffins live?” The captain turned to ask the children in his lilting Northumbrian accent.

  “In a nest,” Charlotte replied confidently.

  “Nope.” There were surprised expressions around the boat.

  “In a tree.” It was the youngest lad of the other family. He looked about eight.

  The island looked pretty ba
re of trees to Michael. The old seaman stood shaking his head.

  “On the cliff side?” the middle-aged man of the couple ventured to help them out.

  “Nearly, but not on the rocky cliffs here, no. See all those holes up there, well they’re burrows, but they’re not made by rabbits, oh no, they’re the puffins’ homes.”

  “Oooh.” “Right.” “How surprising.”

  And then, as they looked close they could see, yes, they were darting right in and out of the earth.

  Their group had chance to get off the boat and walk around the island. Sea birds were flapping and swooping everywhere, shadowing the skies above. The cries from the masses of gulls, terns, guillemots (the black and white ones that stood tall a bit like penguins) and black cormorants gathered on rocks, cliff faces and earth banks were deafening. The puffins seemed the quietest of the lot. Michael found it enthralling to be amongst the noise, like landing in some immense bird festival, yet for the girls it was a touch overwhelming. And all the flapping about and swooping close to heads and hairdos was making Sophie very uneasy.

  “Shall we head back to the boat, then?” Sophie smiled at them hopefully, after about ten minutes of wandering amidst the creatures whilst putting her bravest face on, and hoping to God she didn’t get shat on – she had her best quilted Barbour gilet on. Emily looked a tad relieved at the suggestion, too, so they all agreed.

  After a wait for the middle-aged couple, who had come prepared with binoculars and were determined to make the most of it, they were off again in the little boat, this time heading towards the outer islands to see if they could spot the seal colonies. Inevitably outer islands meant choppier seas, and the boat was soon back to its lurching and rolling. Even Michael’s guts were beginning to churn at this point. His promise of a fish-and-chip lunch back at the town was suddenly less than appealing.

  “Look, they’re there. They’re there!” It was the eldest lad from the other family, leaning precariously out from the side of the boat.

  And yes, there on the rocks and bobbing in the water, large and smaller ones, in shades of mottled grey, sleek bodies; the seals.

  Emily just sat staring with her mouth wide open.

  Charlotte saying, “Oh, they are sooo a-dor-able!”

  Even Sophie was grinning, her seasickness momentarily forgotten. It was fabulous to see them for real, not in a zoo or on television. One of the nearer ones slid down into the water and swam right next to their side of the boat, regarding the latest batch of visitors nonchalantly with a kind, dark eye.

  Michael wondered why they had never done this trip as a family with Kate. Maybe the girls would have been too young until now. But they would have all loved it. Charlotte, Emily, he and Kate. Kate – still there in his mind. What the hell was up with him today?

  Later, back on dry land, they rounded off the outing with a visit to the Seahouses gift shop: a veritable Aladdin’s Cave of tat. The girls’ eyes widened at the loaded shelves stacked with ornaments, tacky jewellery, soft toys, boxes of fudge and rock, buckets, spades, surfboards, windbreaks, beach towels, swimsuits, and so much more. The adults looked aghast. This might take hours.

  “Okay, you can choose one thing each,” Sophie took the lead, giving the girls a focus. “Maybe something that reminds you of our trip today – that might be nice. Something with a puffin, or seal on it, perhaps.”

  “Yep, set yourselves away, then, girls. Go look,” Michael chivvied them on.

  The serious business of choosing the best ever gift in the shop began. There was more than one room, with goods piled at all levels. It was pretty claustrophobic for the adults, but the girls were unfazed; picking up, looking at, discarding, trying on – soft toys, puffin clocks, ornaments, pink plastic beads and bracelets (where was the puffin or seal link with jewellery, Michael mused?). After about 15 minutes, Emily tried on some fluffy synthetic slippers, they had cute soft toy seal faces. She fell in love with them and scooped them up, ready to go to the till with Michael.

  Charlotte just couldn’t decide.

  The time ticked on. She adored the puffin bookends, just right for the shelf in her new bedroom at Daddy’s flat, but then the soft toys, especially the seal pup ones, were so cute. Michael and Sophie were getting cheesed off with waiting. They were meant to be getting fish and chips for lunch and the time was ticking on. Sophie felt salty, windswept and tired. Even Michael was getting agitated loitering at the till, fluffy slippers in hand.

  “Come on, Charlotte, there must be something you like here.”

  “There is, there is Daddy, but there’s just too much,” she gushed.

  “Well, what have you seen?” Sophie just wanted to hurry things along now.

  “We-ell, I like those puffin ornaments, the book ones. And then there’s the seal soft toy,” she prodded at the pink fluffy seal next to her. “Oh, and then there’s a gorgeous butterfly necklace, over there.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to hurry up and choose,” Sophie’s tone was short.

  Charlotte picked up both the bookends and the seal toy. “Oh I dunno…”

  “Hurry up.” For God’s sake, was muttered under Michael’s breath.

  It was all too much. Charlotte was on the verge of tears. Having to put either of them back seemed wrong.

  What is it with these girls and shopping? Sophie was getting fed up now.

  “Can I have them both?” Lottie grinned across at her father cheekily, “Ple–ease?”

  “No,” came from Sophie at exactly the same time as Michael said, “Yes, okay.” He just wanted to be done with it.

  But then Emily started to grizzle that she only had one thing and Sophie now irate, was firm, “Just the one thing, I said, Lottie,” giving Michael a stern glance, mouthing “You spoil them.”

  “Look, they’re my girls,” he muttered tersely back at Sophie.

  Charlotte dragged herself to the till with the puffin bookends, placed them on the counter. She liked her books; they’d look nice in the bedroom next to her new collection. Ooh, but then the seal – wouldn’t that look so good on her bed? As Em’s slippers were being placed in a bag, Charlotte grabbed the bookends and ran down the shop to swap them for the seal. That’s when she tripped. The sound of broken china filled the air, followed by childish wails.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Michael got to her in a couple of seconds, picking her up. Just a graze on her knee, but the shock had sent her into tears and both bookends were smashed to smithereens on the floor.

  “Is she okay?” Sophie was there, too.

  “Yeah, nothing broken.” Then they both looked down at the mess all over the floor, and had to laugh, which made Lottie wail all the more. Sophie passed Charlotte a tissue to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

  The assistant appeared. “Is she alright?” They nodded, but then she added, “I’m sorry, but all breakages do have to be paid for.”

  Charlotte saw her gift there in pieces all over the floor and thinking that was it, nothing to take home, started to wail again. Emily watched it all quietly from beside her Dad.

  “Okay, that’s fine. I’ll pay. Have you got a dustpan and brush or something?”

  As Michael began sweeping up, Sophie caved in and let Charlotte add the soft toy seal to the bag at the till. Michael settled up. It was a bloody relief just to get outside.

  Later that evening, there was still tension between them – the dispute still there, silently stalking the bedroom. The girls had fallen asleep early, probably all that sea air. Emily was in bed with her slippers on. Michael could see the lumpy shapes under her duvet when he popped to check on them. Charlotte had settled by then, cuddling the soft toy seal tight. It hadn’t been that bad a day, really, yet there always seemed to be these little blips to spoil things, especially when the girls were involved. Jesus, he hated thinking that way. They were only children, after all.

  He lay next to Sophie in the half-light.

  “Michael, do you think we could have a weekend to ourselves sometime
?” Sophie was obviously feeling it, too.

  But he couldn’t just drop the girls like that. He hardly saw them through the week as it was. And the weekends, when it was Kate’s turn, he liked at least to look in on them for an hour or so at some point. He didn’t answer.

  “You know, like it used to be. Just the two of us… Like the early days.” She persisted.

  When they’d been lying, cheating and pretending to be working away. Those cosy little hotel do’s.

  The comment annoyed him and yet he knew he was in the wrong, too. He was as guilty in all this. More so. It was his family he’d wrecked. Maybe that was exactly why it annoyed him.

  “Sophie, we can’t just shut them out. I’m just trying to settle them, get them to know you more.” He rubbed a hand over his brow. They lay inches apart on their pillows. He turned to face her, “Look, I come as a three-pack. You know that.” That was the deal.

  She felt chastened. She hadn’t meant to sound selfish. She was just desperate to recapture some of that early magic, when it was just the two of them. The girls were fine, really, but just not all the time. She wasn’t used to children, didn’t even have any nieces and nephews to practise on. This was all just such a huge learning curve for her. But she sensed this wasn’t the time to explain all that. Of course he’d want to be with them, they were his children.

  “Yes, yes I know that,” her voice softened. “Maybe some time in the future, when things settle down a bit?”

  “Maybe,” was his answer, as he turned away on his side.

  Chapter 24

  When did you stop loving someone? It would be so much easier if you didn’t love them, then they couldn’t hurt you. When the hell did you get to feel whole again?

  Kate lay under the duvet on the sofa, annoyed with herself. She thought she’d come so much further than this, and here she was back under the duvet. It was like having a relapse.

  It was last night that did it. On her own after Michael had collected the girls. She hadn’t dared go in there since April, hadn’t wanted to look. But now, four months on, she thought she was strong enough. She’d been putting something away in the cabinet, then found herself sitting on the front-room floor with the old photo albums strewn around her. Not such a good idea, in hindsight. The wedding album. Baby photos. Their old life in pictures.