by Jess Ryder
‘You don’t sound it.’ She was right; I could hear a false strain in my voice. ‘So, what does Nick say? Has he got slow sperm or not?’
‘I haven’t asked him about it. It’s a man thing. I think he’s ashamed and doesn’t want to admit it.’
‘Oh yes, we mustn’t damage the male ego.’ Her lips set into a bitter line.
‘I’m just trying to be sensitive. I don’t want him worrying that he’s not Emily’s dad.’
‘The possibility must have occurred to him,’ Mum said thoughtfully. ‘I’m surprised he never questioned you.’
‘He trusts me, that’s why,’ I retorted.
‘Hmm … not enough to tell you the truth.’ She stood up and went back to the kitchen. ‘It doesn’t seem like a very equal relationship to me. You pussyfoot around him.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Yes, you do,’ she called out. ‘You’re like a housewife from the fifties.’
‘I’m not!’
‘You are. You stay at home all day, you don’t work, you don’t even drive.’ She came back with some plastic boxes and put them down next to Emily. ‘Here, munchkin. You’re giving me a headache. Bang these instead.’ She picked up the offending saucepans.
‘Nooooo!’ screamed Emily, and tried to hit Grandma with the wooden spoon.
‘You’ve no financial independence, that’s your problem,’ Mum continued. ‘You need a job, some income of your own.’
‘But there’s no point. We don’t need the money. I don’t know how much Nick earns, but it’s a hell of a lot.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t you have a joint account?’ I felt her eyes drilling into my conscience – she knew me so well, it was impossible to lie to her. ‘You don’t, do you? Oh, Natasha …’
‘It’s not a problem, Mum. If I need cash, I just use Nick’s card. I have my own credit card, and he pays it off automatically each month. He never questions how much I spend on myself. In fact, he tells me I don’t spend enough. As far as he’s concerned, his money is my money. He couldn’t be more generous.’
‘Then why don’t you have a joint account?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know, the subject has never come up. I’m sure he’d agree to it if I asked.’
‘Don’t ask – insist!’ She shook her head despairingly. ‘Really, Natasha, you need to start behaving like a grown-up. You’re letting Nick walk all over you.’
I tried to defend him, but she wouldn’t listen. Everything was either his fault, because he was a man, or my fault, because I let him get away with it.
After lunch I made my excuses, and while she cleared up, I texted Sam saying we were ready to leave. He met me at the same spot and we made our escape. As we headed for the dual carriageway, relief washed over me. Thank God that’s over, I thought. Mum was wrong about Nick, but she was right about some things. I needed more control over my life.
As we reached the outskirts of London, an exciting idea occurred to me. Before I’d really thought it through, I turned to Sam and said, ‘Would you teach me to drive?’
He hesitated before replying. ‘Well, I … er, I suppose I could. But I’ve never taught anyone before. Wouldn’t it be better to have proper lessons, you know, from an instructor?’
‘I don’t want proper lessons. I want to do this as a surprise, for Nick. If I have to pay for lessons, he’ll find out, you see …’ Mum’s complaints about my not having any money of my own echoed in my ears.
Sam smacked his lips as he pulled away from the lights. ‘I’m not happy about going behind your husband’s back. He’s the boss.’
‘Don’t worry, if there’s any flak, I’ll take it. But there won’t be, I promise. Only you mustn’t tell him. It’s got to be our secret.’
‘Okay then … if you’re sure.’ He looked across and smiled. ‘It’ll give us both something to do, yeah?’
9
Then
Natasha
* * *
It didn’t take long for my provisional driving licence to arrive. Luckily, Nick was out of the country when it landed on the doormat. I bought L-plates from the post office – the kind you can take on and off – and in between lessons I kept them in my underwear drawer, under a scented liner. The secrecy was all part of the fun. I never thought for a moment that I was deceiving Nick – for me, it was as harmless as planning a surprise party. I imagined the delighted look on his face when he found out I’d passed my test. Being able to drive would make family life a lot easier while he was serving his ban.
That’s how I rationalised it, anyway. That’s how I accounted for the quivers of excitement that danced through me every time I got in the car with Sam.
He warned me that the Range Rover was ‘a beast’, and not really suitable for a learner driver, but if he was going to teach me, there was no other option. And there was another thing …
‘When we’re in the car, I’m the boss,’ he said. ‘You have to do as I say at all times, no matter what. Is that clear? Otherwise it won’t be safe.’
I liked the role reversal. I didn’t feel comfortable being in charge of ‘staff’, and this evened things out. Sam was a wonderful teacher, so patient and understanding when I couldn’t find reverse or struggled with a manoeuvre. We got into the habit of taking Emily to nursery by car – Sam always drove; we didn’t want her spilling the beans to Dada. As soon as I’d dropped her off, we’d slap on the L-plates and swap places. Sometimes we’d drive around for hours – I learnt to weave my way down the narrow residential streets, lined with parked cars; to keep my head on the North Circular while everyone around me was changing lanes; and to get into the correct position at roundabouts. Given the stresses of driving in London, we were both remarkably relaxed. We didn’t snap at each other, and if I showed signs of panicking, he always defused it with humour.
The driving lessons were becoming an obsession. I found myself drifting off when Nick and I were together, reliving the highlights of my secret day.
‘What are you smiling about?’ he asked one evening over dinner. I was remembering the triumph of reverse parking between two stationary cars, picturing Sam’s beaming face and replaying his words: ‘If you can park a monster like this, you can park bloody anything.’
‘Just pleased to have you here for a change,’ I replied, leaning across the table to kiss him. I told myself it was okay to lie, because it was for a good reason. I was doing this for the family’s sake, to please Nick and be a good, useful wife. But a very small part of me knew something wasn’t quite right. I was swimming in murky waters. As we lay in bed at night, my eyes would wander to my chest of drawers and I’d imagine the provisional licence and L-plates lying under my bras and pants like love letters.
* * *
There was yet another production crisis, in New York this time. Nick told me he would be gone for a week, maybe longer.
‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘You and Emily can go sightseeing during the day and we can meet up in the evenings.’
I sighed wearily ‘She’s too young to traipse around museums, and it’ll be far too hot for her.’ It was July, and New York would be sweltering. Also, Nick worked long hours and often had to take clients out to dinner, so I knew I would hardly see him. It was a nice idea, but what about my driving?
‘Yeah, I guess you’re right.’ He put his arms around me. ‘I just hate going away all the time. Emily’s growing up so fast, and I’m missing out.’
‘We’ll FaceTime every day, promise,’ I said, feeling a pang of guilt. I’d just turned down a week’s holiday in New York. For what? Brushing up on my gear changing and three-point turns?
A few days later, Sam took Nick to the airport for his early-morning flight. I walked Emily to nursery in the pushchair, then hurried back to the house. I sat in the kitchen, L-plates at the ready, practising an online theory test and trying to ignore the strange, skipping sensations I was feeling inside. What was going on here? Was it learning to drive I was excited about, or spending t
ime with Sam? I kept telling myself it was the former, but I knew it wasn’t that simple.
I still loved Nick, of that I had no doubt – still found him attractive sexually, still enjoyed his company. It was a good marriage. Okay, so we didn’t have a joint bank account, but he was incredibly generous with his money. And he was a fantastic father to Emily. His family were vile, but at least we hardly ever saw them. The only blot on our otherwise glorious landscape was Jen, but now that I had my secret project to concentrate on, she occupied my thoughts less and less.
She must have read my mind …
It was Thursday, and Nick had been away for four days. I’d booked Emily in for some extra nursery sessions – lots of people were away on holiday, so they had some empty slots. Sam and I had been out every day, and the intensive lessons had really helped.
‘You’ve turned a corner,’ he said. ‘No pun intended.’ I laughed as I pulled onto the driveway. It was lunchtime and we were stopping for a rest. ‘Honest, you’ve had a breakthrough this week. I feel like you really understand the road, know what I mean? Like you’re not just following instructions, you’re properly driving.’
I turned off the ignition. ‘Wow! Thanks. That means a lot.’
‘You should put in for your test.’
‘Really? You think I’m ready?’
‘More or less. You’re a good driver, Natasha.’ He wouldn’t call me Tasha or Tash, for some reason. I think it was a deference thing.
‘And you’re a great teacher, Fireman Sam,’ I replied, leaning across and planting a kiss on his cheek. His skin felt soft beneath my lips. ‘Please come in and have some lunch. I’ve a fridge full of food and nobody to eat it.’
‘Okay, but we mustn’t make a habit of it.’
We got out of the car and I unlocked the front door. To my surprise, the alarm didn’t go off. Had I forgotten to set it in my eagerness to get in the car? Nick was insistent that we switch it on every time we left the house, and I was well trained. The cleaner didn’t come on Thursdays, and nobody else had a key …
‘Be careful,’ whispered Sam. ‘Might be an intruder. Let me go first.’ He stepped inside and crept across the hallway. I stood nervously at the threshold, wondering whether to dial 999. Then I heard her voice.
‘Hello, Sam, you gorgeous thing!’ It was Jen, and she sounded drunk.
I rushed into the kitchen. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said. ‘How did you get in?’
She dangled a bunch of keys in the air. ‘I used to live here, in case you’ve forgotten.’
I felt my hands curling into fists, nails digging into palms. ‘But you don’t any more. Have you been snooping around my house?’
Sam looked down at his feet. ‘I’ll be outside if you need me, Mrs Warrington,’ he mumbled, shuffling out.
A shot of anger rushed through me – with Nick more than with Jen. Why hadn’t he changed the locks when she moved out? Why hadn’t he deleted her passcode for the alarm?
‘You’ve no right to let yourself in.’ I said. ‘You’re trespassing.’
‘Trespassing?’ She gave me a mocking grin. ‘That’s a very big word. Sounds a bit legal. Are you trying to scare me?’
‘Come on, Jen, you know you can’t do this. Give me the keys. Please.’ I held out my hand.
‘Sorry.’ She dropped them into her designer handbag. ‘Nicky asked me to hang onto them in case there was an emergency, or he locked himself out.’
‘I doubt it,’ I snapped, although there was a small chance it was true. ‘Look, you need to leave.’ I took a few more paces towards her. She was swaying slightly on the high stool and I could smell wine on her breath. A glass and an empty bottle were sitting on the counter next to her; she’d clearly helped herself from the fridge.
‘Why are you here, Jen?’ I said. ‘It’s the middle of the day, and Nick’s in New York.’
‘Yes, I know, such a bore. I was talking to him earlier, woke him up, poor love. I needed some documents, you know, a tax thing, and I couldn’t find them in my flat, so I thought they must still be here. In Nicky’s offish,’ she slurred. ‘He said if you weren’t around just to let myself in and look. It’s urgent, you see … can’t wait. I had a bitch of a meeting with my accountant this morning; the Revenue’s saying I owe thousands in unpaid tax. Bastards. I can’t cope with all this shit, it’s too much, way too much. It’s killing me.’
I appraised her coolly. ‘So you thought you’d drown your sorrows in our wine, did you?’
‘Oh, stop being such a prig, Natasha. Anyway, you can talk. What’s the chauffeur doing here, eh?’ Her painted eyebrows arched. ‘Nicky told me he’d given him the week off, otherwise he was going to ask him to help shift my files.’
I hesitated, not sure how to answer. ‘I asked Sam to work this week. It’s none of your business, anyway. I want you to leave now.’
She shook her head. ‘But I haven’t found my documents. Do you think they might be in the attic?’
‘I’ve no idea. Please, Jen, you need to leave.’
‘Why? So that you can fuck your chauffeur? I don’t blame you. Nicky’s away so much, and Sam’s right there, at your beck and call. Oh, so very tempting …’
‘How dare you?’ I said, glancing over my shoulder. Had Sam gone outside? What if he could hear her?
‘Come on, it’s obvious you fancy the pants off him. I must admit, I like a bit of rough myself.’
I was burning with anger. ‘If you won’t do as I ask, I’ll have to call Nick. I can’t imagine he’ll be too impressed.’ It was a risk, but I had to take it. He was very tolerant with her, but surely he would draw the line at this. I took out my phone.
‘Oh, don’t bother. Let the man sleep. I’m going.’ She slipped off the stool and staggered past me into the hallway. I followed her out of the house, trying to make sure she didn’t crash into the furniture.
Outside, Sam was standing by the Range Rover, and as Jen tripped over the front step, she almost fell into his arms.
‘She’s off her face,’ I told him.
He propped her up against the passenger door. ‘Shall I take her home?’
‘Would you mind? That’d be really kind of you,’ I said. ‘Do you need her address? I might have it somewhere …’
‘No, it’s okay. I know where she lives.’ Sam guided her gently into the front seat and fastened her belt.
Jen waved an arm drunkenly in my direction. ‘Tell Nicky from me, I can’t take much more. It’s gone on long enough. Long enough!’
I sighed. ‘What has?’
‘Your marriage!’ she screamed.
Sam threw me a sympathetic look and closed the passenger door.
As I watched him drive her away, I realised the L-plates were still stuck on the car.
10
Then
Natasha
* * *
Nick was furious when I told him what Jen had done. As soon as his flight landed the following day, he went straight to her flat and they had what he described as a ‘humongous row’. When he arrived home, he banged his luggage down in the hallway and marched into the sitting room.
‘She’s gone too far this time,’ he said. ‘Way too far. I’m really sorry, Tash. But it won’t happen again, I’ve seen to that.’
It was almost midnight. Emily was fast asleep, and I’d been watching mindless television for hours, waiting for him to come back. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so angry.
‘Did you get the keys off her?’ I asked.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Perhaps we should change the locks anyway. In case she’s got spare copies.’
He shook his head. ‘No need. I’ll just delete her alarm code. If she tries it again, the police will come automatically.’
I stood up and put my arms around him. ‘Thanks for dealing with it so quickly. It was really scary. I thought there were burglars in the house.’ We kissed, but I felt he was slightly holding back. Had Jen told him about Sam being there? Had she spotted t
he L-plates? I decided to be honest (or partly honest), just in case.
‘It was a good job Sam was here,’ I said as he pulled away. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you’d given him the week off. He didn’t say.’
Nick took off his jacket and loosened his tie. ‘He’s a good guy, eager to please. But we mustn’t exploit him, know what I mean?’
‘No, of course not.’ I hurried into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Actually, I didn’t know what he meant. Was he making an oblique reference to the driving lessons? Maybe Jen had seen the L-plates, and told him. Maybe he had asked Sam about it and Sam had had to confess. But if so, why hadn’t Nick come straight out with it? As I poured boiling water onto the tea bags, I concluded that if he did know, he had decided not to let on, so as not to spoil my surprise.
Amazing, the narratives we spin to suit ourselves …
When I returned to the sitting room, Nick had calmed down. We sat on the sofa, arms around each other, sipping from our mugs and catching up on stories from our week apart. I told him that Emily had said her first sentence while I was loading the washing machine – ‘Sock in there!’
‘She’s a genius,’ laughed Nick, squeezing my shoulder. ‘You know what? I’m sick of all this travelling. I used to enjoy it, but these days I just want to be at home with my family. I missed Emily’s first step; now I’ve missed her first sentence. It’s not fair.’
‘You must be due some holiday,’ I said. It had been months since he’d taken a break.
‘I’ve got weeks owing. I’m just too busy to take them. Things are really hotting up. I’ve got some very big deals right on the brink, major productions waiting for the green light. Everyone’s counting on me; I can’t let them down.’
‘But if you want to see more of Emily …’
‘I know, I know.’ He sighed. ‘You’re right. I need to make some changes, or she’ll be grown up before I know it.’