I made the tea and placed a cup on the table next to Ray, then we sat and watched the steam rise from both our cups into the silent air. The only sound was the hum of cars outside, and the occasional murmur from Kate, snuggled into her daddy’s chest.
I took a sip, the hot liquid scalding my tongue.
‘Why don’t you go out tonight, have a bit of fun? I can see to Kate.’ I knew he missed his friends, missed going out with them whenever he liked, and, although he still saw them from time to time, I knew he usually just told them he couldn’t go out, that he had to stay at home with us. I hoped spending some time with them might do him good, cheer him up a bit.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what my mates are up to.’
‘Go and find them, then.’ I blew my tea gently, watching the ripples move across the surface. ‘They can’t be that hard to find and it’ll do you good to have a night out.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Go on. We’ll be fine. Really.’ I leaned over and took the sleeping Kate from his arms and kissed the top of his head. ‘Go. Go on.’
He planted his hands on his knees and stood up, brushing his trousers down.
‘OK. I’ll see if I can find someone, have a couple of pints. But I won’t be late back, I promise, OK?’
‘OK.’
He turned to leave, then stopped. ‘Jan?’ I looked up to see him silhouetted in the doorway. ‘Thank you. You’re the best.’
‘I know.’ I smiled and he winked at me, then, ten minutes later, I heard the front door slam, and he was gone in a fog of aftershave.
I must have fallen asleep on the sofa, because I woke up with Kate asleep on my chest and the lamp still glowing. Trying not to wake Kate, I moved my body into a sitting position and laid her gently down on the sofa. She stirred and wriggled her padded bottom in the air, then settled down again with a sigh. I walked into the kitchen and glanced at the clock above the sink. It was 2.30 in the morning. I frowned. Did that mean Ray wasn’t back yet? Or had he come in and seen us there and decided to let us sleep? I walked out of the kitchen and down the corridor to the bedroom at the front of the bungalow and opened the door quietly. The light from the streetlamp just outside the window gave the room an orange glow through the thin curtains. I could hear a gentle snoring sound, soft and regular, and when I looked at the bed there was an outline of a body under the covers. Ray’s jacket was slung across the chair and his feet stuck out of the bottom of the bed, still in socks. I leaned over him to get a closer look. He was still fully dressed. His breath smelt stale, of beer and whisky and cigarette smoke, and he was snoring gently.
I stepped out of the room and made my way back to the living room, where Kate was still fast asleep. She’d wake for a feed soon, so I made up a bottle then picked her up and carried her through to her little bedroom. It was darker in here and I picked my way carefully to the chair and sat down. As I waited for her to stir I tried not to think about where Ray had been and who he might have been with. I knew he loved me, and to be fair to him he’d never given me any reason to doubt him, to think that he’d cheat on me. And let’s face it, it was me who’d told him to go out in the first place, so I couldn’t really complain. But there was something about the fact that he hadn’t woken me, and had passed out, fully clothed, that bothered me. A lot.
Despite myself I couldn’t help images of him with another woman in a smoky club swirl round my mind, eluding attempts to be caught, thrown out. Just the thought of it was too painful even to contemplate.
My thoughts were pulled away by the sudden and loud wailing of Kate waking up, desperate for her bottle, and, grateful for the distraction, I picked it up from the floor and popped it in her mouth, watching her suck greedily.
Ray insisted, the next day, that he hadn’t been very late back and that he’d just been for a couple of drinks with the boys.
‘You both looked so peaceful I didn’t want to wake you,’ he said.
‘OK.’ I nodded and carried on buttering the toast, my back to him.
His arms wrapped round my waist and he rested his chin on my head. ‘Come on, Janny, don’t be like that. You told me to go out. You have to learn to trust me.’
I shrugged. ‘I do.’
But it was hard while I was sitting at home, just me and Kate, to remember his words, and to convince myself that everything was fine. Which was why, for me, that night felt like the beginning of a change for us. It wasn’t even that Ray went back to being his old self – at least, not the old self I’d known – because the old Ray wanted to be with me all the time. It was as though, once he’d had a small taste of the freedom he’d been missing, he realized he wanted a huge bite of it.
And so he started going out most nights. He’d come home from the factory, have dinner, and then leave, promising not to be late. And some nights he wasn’t. Some nights he’d come home after a couple of hours and we’d sit and chat about our day, about how Kate had been, what we’d done. From time to time he’d even help me put Kate to bed, before dragging me into bed with him – and those days I truly started to believe that everything was going to be OK.
But then other nights he went out and I wouldn’t see him until the morning after he stumbled in late, drunk and smelling of smoke. He started playing with the band again as well, and they were nearly always late nights. Sometimes I was sitting up in the dark with Kate when he came back, feeding her or holding her, and he wouldn’t even notice us. Those were the times I felt the most bereft. However much I tried to tell myself that Ray’s behaviour was perfectly normal, that he was just letting off steam, I felt rejected and lonely. I hated that he chose to be out with God knew who, drinking, over being at home with us: his wife and baby. And his attitude to us made me realize how different we really were.
I filled our days as best I could while he was out at work but the truth was, I was lonely. I hadn’t made any friends since we’d moved to Norwich, and some days I literally spoke to nobody all day. I missed the sound of the sea, the call of the seagulls and the bite of salt in the air. I felt smothered by the hot, stuffy city.
But I would never leave Ray.
And so nothing changed.
At least, not for a while.
Then one day, a few months after Kate’s second birthday, in June 1979, I had something to tell Ray that I hoped would change everything.
I waited for him to come home from the factory one evening and I’d made his favourite dinner: bacon, eggs and chips, because I hoped it would mean he’d sit down and eat it with me rather than rushing straight out again.
I was in the kitchen taking the chips out of the fryer, waiting for the sound of his key in the lock and wondering what kind of mood he’d be in when he got home. The factory nearly always made him grumpy. Kate was strapped into her bouncy chair on the kitchen floor, laughing happily. As I placed the plates on the table, the front door opened and my heart leapt in my chest. Seconds later he was at the door.
‘What’s all this?’ He indicated the table with a nod of his head.
I shrugged nervously. ‘I just thought it would be nice to sit down to some tea tonight. You know, have a chat. I hardly see you any more.’
He stared at me for a few seconds, then back at the table, and down at Kate, gurgling on the floor. Then he shook his shoulders, swung his jacket over the back of a chair, scooped Kate up from her bouncy seat and plonked himself down. ‘OK, why not. I’m not going out till later tonight anyway.’
I held my tongue, determined not to get him riled. I needed him to listen to me.
I sat opposite him and he kissed Kate on the cheek tenderly before placing her carefully back in her chair. He picked up his knife and fork and dug in. I pushed my food around my plate, occasionally spearing a chip and chewing it slowly.
He shovelled a forkful of egg into his mouth and looked up.
‘You not eating?’
‘I’m not very hungry.’
He shrugged and swallowed his mouthful. ‘I know I
moan about work but I do love you and Kate, you know. It’s just – well, you know me. I need my freedom as well. And the factory doesn’t exactly give me that.’ He smiled. ‘At least you don’t mind me having fun in the evenings.’
I gave him a weak smile back. I didn’t dare tell him that I hated him going out all the time and I wanted him back home with me, with us. Away from temptation. It wasn’t the right time. Instead I just nodded and took a deep breath.
‘The thing is, Ray, something’s happened.’
His fork stopped midway to his mouth and he lowered it slowly back to his plate. His face was white, his eyes wide. He looked terrified, as though there was a 10-ton truck heading towards him and he knew he didn’t have time to move out of the way. I didn’t know what he was expecting me to say, but it clearly wasn’t good news.
‘Something?’ His voice was croaky, and he cleared his throat and tried again, his voice harder this time. ‘What sort of something?’
I waited a beat, then just let it out.
‘I’m pregnant.’
The silence in the room seemed to grow, making the walls expand and the air feel huge, filling my lungs, my head, my body. I felt light-headed. Why wasn’t he saying anything?
I watched him, his face reddening, his shoulders slumped. I didn’t know what was going through his mind but I could only remember the last time I told him I was pregnant, when he’d walked out and left me thinking it was over. I wasn’t sure I could bear that again.
The silence was broken by the clattering of knife and fork against table and the scrape of a chair being pushed across the lino floor, and I held my breath, wondering what he was going to do. He stood still for a moment, his eyes wandering from me to Kate and back again. Then he spoke.
‘Wow. This is—’ He stopped, looked down at the lino again, looked up. ‘This is big, Janny.’
I nodded, unsure what to say. Big good or big bad? I waited, as Kate babbled away in the background.
‘I don’t know what to say. I wasn’t expecting this.’
‘Me neither, Ray. But it’s happened.’
‘But we’ve hardly—’
‘I know. You’ve hardly been near me.’ I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. ‘But it only takes once, Ray. Once.’
He nodded. ‘Right. Well. Jesus.’
‘That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.’
He looked up at me, his face set. ‘What did you want from me, Janny? Did you want me to dance a little jig in celebration? Did you want me to sweep you off your feet and swing you round the room?’
‘I don’t know,’ I snapped. ‘I just thought – hoped – you might be a bit more – encouraging. Happier.’ I trailed off.
‘Well, I’m sorry. I just think – look, it’s fine. It’s good. I just need—’ He hooked his jacket from the back of his chair and slung it across his arm. ‘I’m going out for a bit. Sorry. I’ll be back later, promise.’
He pushed his arms roughly into his jacket, swiped the can of beer I’d placed on the table and shoved it in his pocket. Then he left.
Again.
It shouldn’t have been as bad as last time and in some ways it wasn’t. He’d said he was coming back, for a start. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than just the fact we were having another baby. After all, he was hardly ever here anyway, what difference would it make to him? All I could see was the look in his eyes when he’d heard the words. He looked so upset. As though I’d done this to trick him, to set a trap.
Numbly, I picked up the plate of half-eaten food from the table where he’d been sitting and scraped the whole lot into the bin. I dumped my food in there too and then sat down and watched Kate banging her plastic beaker on the side of her chair. She had no idea there was anything wrong, and why should she? I hated the fact that one day she might grow up and realize her daddy was never there.
But I loved him and we needed him. All three of us. And so I’d wait and hope that he would work out whatever was going on in his life, and then I’d take him back and carry on and hope that, this time, things really would change.
They say a leopard can’t change his spots, and I know from experience that it’s usually true. But this time Ray really did surprise me.
He came home later that evening, slightly tipsy but nothing I hadn’t seen before. I was sitting on the sofa, Kate asleep on me for company, the TV flickering noiselessly in the background so as not to disturb her, when he came in and stood in the doorway looking down at us. The light from the TV moved across his face, making his expression hard to read, and I could only make out his outline.
‘Jan?’
He stepped into the room and sat down next to me quietly. His face was serious, the frown etched into his brow accentuated by the flickering light.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s OK.’ My voice came out as a whisper so I didn’t wake Kate. ‘Let me just go and put Kate down.’
I stood and walked to her bed and as I laid her down I wiped away a tear. I didn’t want Ray to see me cry. He was back now and it looked as though he was sorry for walking out. I had to give him a chance to explain.
I left Kate sleeping and went back to find Ray. He’d taken his jacket off and his head was tipped back on the sofa, his eyes closed. When he heard me come in he lifted his head up slowly. He looked older than usual and I wondered what troubles were hiding behind that handsome face.
‘You’re back.’
He nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Jan. You didn’t deserve that.’ He paused, his eyes darting round the room, taking in the TV, the electric fire, the freshly painted walls. ‘I just – I wasn’t expecting it.’
‘Me neither. But it can’t be as much of a shock as last time . . . ’
He shrugged.
‘I dunno. There was just . . . I don’t know. It was just the last thing I expected, to be honest.’
‘So are you back now? Are you staying?’ I hated the desperation in my voice but I couldn’t hide it. I needed him.
He nodded. ‘Of course, Jan. I’d never leave you, you must know that.’ He sat up, slicked his hair off his face again. ‘I’ll be the best dad and husband there’s ever been from now on. You won’t recognize me. I promise.’
He looked so serious I couldn’t help letting out a laugh. ‘You silly sod, I still want to recognize you. It’s you I love, not a stranger. But I would like you to be here, with me and Kate and – well, with the baby, when it comes.’
‘I know. You’re right. And I will. I will.’ He lifted his hand to stroke my cheek and just the gentle touch made me shiver. I knew I could never lose him. I knew I would do anything to keep him.
True to his word, things did seem to change after that night. In fact, so much so that it started to get on my nerves a bit.
‘What on earth have you been buying this time?’ I watched as a large square frame wrapped in brown paper walked into the room. It stopped and was moved carefully to the floor and from behind it Ray’s face popped out, a grin plastered across it.
‘It’s a picture. For above the fire.’
I looked at the blank wall above the ugly electric fire. Bless Ray. He meant well, trying to make the house homely; he came home with something different every day from the thrift shop down the road: cushions, blankets, pictures, toys for Kate and the baby. He made plans, talked about the future, about all the amazing things we could do together when the kids grew up.
‘We’ll go on holidays to the seaside, maybe we’ll even go abroad. You can fly to Spain pretty cheap these days, you know.’ Or: ‘We can buy a bigger house with a garden, somewhere the kids can play all day.’
I didn’t have the heart to point out we’d never be able to afford that on his wages.
He came home after work every night, no longer going out drinking or whatever else he’d been doing.
‘You can go out for a drink sometimes, you know,’ I’d tell him. ‘You don’t have to stop completely.’
‘I know.
But I want to. I want to be here, with you.’
I couldn’t help feeling thrilled that, when push came to shove, he’d chosen us over his friends, over his life of freedom. And I loved this Ray, the caring, thoughtful Ray, the Ray who wanted to spend time with us, be a happy family. But really, I spent most of the time worrying that, before I knew it, the day would come when it wouldn’t be enough for him any more and he’d be off again. I always half expected him to leave at any minute.
I tried to swallow the worry down, and I didn’t let Ray know how I was feeling. Instead I tried to embrace the happiness, and let myself believe this was how life was going to be from now on.
And to make things easier I even arranged a babysitter from time to time and went along to watch Ray playing with the band again, to make an effort. And it felt pretty good to have a taste of our old lives. It made me feel young again.
In fact, the future seemed pretty good, from where I was sitting. At least, that’s what I told myself, until I even started to believe it.
My tummy grew bigger and Ray wouldn’t let me do anything, treated me like a delicate flower. He went crazy if I even tried to get plates from the cupboard over the sink in kitchen, or carried a load of washing from the bathroom to the sink.
‘Let me do that,’ he said, taking over and making sure I sat down instead. ‘You need to look after yourself.’
It got pretty tiresome, but I didn’t have the heart to argue. Besides, what could he do when he was at work and not there to stop me? Those hours in the middle of the day when Ray was at the factory were the only time I could really be myself.
I waved goodbye to him one morning in early September 1979. I say one morning as though I can’t remember it clearly, but of course I can. It was 10 September. It was 8.35 in the morning and Kate and I stood at the door of the bungalow and I held her hand and made it wave goodbye to Daddy as he made his way down the road and out of sight. And then we went back inside the house and shut the door.
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