by Tara Ford
“Have you recovered from your late night out – or should I say early morning, Grant?” Mum’s radar was still stalking Grant and his unresponsive demeanour. “Evelyn said your taxi home woke her up.” Darting her eyes from Grant to me, Mum tried to goad a response from Grant, but to no avail.
“Just forget about it now Mum, Grant told me what happened.”
“Well, what did happen then? Where was he till the early hours? Nothing is open at half past four in the morning,” she snapped.
It suddenly occurred to me that my mother was suspicious of his actions that night as well, and my own doubts were now growing again.
“Half past four?” I sat upright with a knot in my tummy. “I thought you said you got home at two, Grant.” Fear steadily rose from the twisting knot deep inside my stomach. Something was amiss. Grant’s behaviour was amiss.
“Oh for goodness’ sake, this is all getting out of hand.” Heading out to the kitchen, and more precisely the kettle, he continued. “I don’t keep a timed diary of my comings and goings, you know!”
Cringing through the embarrassingly heavy atmosphere, I tried hinting to Mum that it might be time to go. She didn’t take hints very well and continued to sit on the sofa, asking me a hundred and one questions about the hospital, the doctors, what they said, what they did and what was the final diagnosis.
“I still don’t know, Mum.” Feeling agitated, I called through to Grant who was still making a cup of tea, but I feared he’d rushed off to China to pick the leaves himself. “Where’s that tea, Grant?”
Teetering on the edge of my seat, I watched Mum drain the last drop from her mug. Conversation had been awkward for the last 30 minutes and I was itching for them to go. I could see that both Dad and Grant were desperately waiting too. A burning desire to be alone with Grant consumed me, but not in a sexual sense. I had to find out what was making him so shifty and shaky.
“Right, we’re going now love, let me know if there’s anything I can do or get for you. I’ll give you a call tomorrow to see how you are.”
Trying to hide the relief that must have been written all over my crusty face, I smiled sweetly. “Thanks for coming over.” I looked directly at Dad, who had hardly said a word, even when the topic was about his boat and his special day. “Are you all right Dad? You’ve hardly said anything.”
“Just been thinking, that’s all.”
“About what? When are you taking the Titanic over to the museum?”
“Err, not sure. I think I will re-enact the ship’s demise so that you can see it sail, Alex. I can get the press out again.”
“No! Dad, you can’t do that. I don’t want you to sink your beautiful work of art.”
“It’s history, Alex. It’s history.” Pulling himself up from the chair, he winked at me and stood by the door waiting for Mum.
Unsure of the meaning of Dad’s expression, I pleaded with him, in fear of the bizarre things he had been known to do in the past.
“Please don’t do anything silly, Dad. You should feel so honoured to have your model in a museum.”
“It would be big news though, wouldn’t it? Imagine what the papers would say.” He grinned.
“Just ignore him, he’s teasing you,” said Mum as she grabbed hold of his jacket by the shoulder and shunted him through the doorway.
Managing to raise his eyebrows at me, Dad stepped out and headed towards their car.
“Bye for now, Grant,” said Mum with a huffy tone to her voice as she flung her arms around me and squeezed.
I was thankful that I hadn’t been in hospital for broken ribs or a fractured collarbone as her anaconda grip enveloped me.
Then they were gone – thankfully.
Returning to the living room, I sat down and waited for Grant to join me. He knew we had things to discuss. It was the only way to clear the air.
“I’m going to get a quick shower and then I’ll be down babe,” he called as he leapt up the stairs two at a time, before I could answer him. Hobbling into the kitchen, I searched for Grant’s phone. Intuition told me to look for it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Guessing he’d probably taken it upstairs, I dialled his number with the intention of telling him to hurry up back down, but his phone was turned off. This was unusual, he was obsessed with having his phone charged fully and always available. Recalling Mum’s words, I pondered over why it was turned off. I knew I had grown a bit paranoid in the hospital, but now my insecurity was working overtime. Or was it?
It cut like a knife, deeply and sharply. I sat rigid as the pain surged through my body, causing stinging tears to well, and my jaw dropped from its holding.
The words echoed and repeated in my mind as I stared through Grant like a dazed rabbit confused by a preying fox. How could he?
Burying my head in my hands, I toiled with the whizzing, erratic thoughts, questions and crazy assumptions whirling around in my mind. Temporarily speechless, I fought back the tears and tried to compose myself – it was going to be a long night and I worried that the kids would be home soon and we would have to continue our confrontation in a whisper. There was no way I was going to let the kids get a sniff of this, unless it couldn’t be rectified. Belief is a powerful tool, when it works, I wasn’t sure it was working now.
I have made a really terrible mistake – the words dug deeper into the wound again and again.
Visions of our own lovemaking filtered through my thoughts and briefly satisfied me with their passion and longing, but then to my sheer horror the image changed into that of another woman who I did not recognise, and Grant lustfully mounting her. Gripping my head tightly, I tried to make the image go away when he spoke again.
This time his voice was trembling.
“I know what you’re thinking babe. Please believe me when I say nothing really happened,” he whimpered.
Looking up, I saw unshed tears balancing on the rims of his pitiful eyes.
“Let’s go into the bedroom.” I stated harshly as he gave me a puzzled look. “The kids will be home soon, I don’t want them hearing this,” I added, just in case he thought I’d gone mad and was going to take him to the boudoir and shag him senseless.
The long bottom-hop up the stairs had exhausted me once again as I perched pensively on the edge of the bed.
Kneeling on the floor by my feet, Grant tried to take my hands in his but I pulled away like a spoilt child scorned.
“What do you mean, nothing really happened?” I whispered viciously.
Lowering his head, Grant attempted to explain what had happened at Rachel’s house.
Cringing with building anger and disgust, I listened to the sordid details, which were very sketchy. When he wasn’t being clear or detailed enough I interrogated him further. I had to know every last bit.
“So you kissed her and that was all?”
“She made me touch her.” Bowing his head in shame, Grant continued. “I’m so sorry, Alex – I love you and would never intentionally hurt you. It was a terrible mistake.”
“Did she hold you at knifepoint then?” I asked sarcastically. “What do you mean, she made you, Grant? How could she make you?” The cold sweat leaking from my palms irritated me to the point of wanting to wipe them on Grant’s face via a hard slap. “Where?” I whisper-shouted.
“Where what?” he snivelled.
“Where the hell did you touch her, you imbecile?”
Sensing my rage, he rose from his knees and moved to the end of the bed and hovered on the very edge as if he wasn’t worthy of sitting on our sacred mattress.
“She put my hand on her breast.” Burying his face in his hands, Grant leaned over.
At that moment I knew he was crying. A torrent of mixed emotions cascaded over me, from pity to murderous rage.
“You make me sick.” Fighting back tears, I whisper-screeched, “So what would you have got up to if I’d stayed in hospital longer? Perhaps if I’d been there long enough you could have settled down and had children.” Knowing this was a
ridiculous thing to say, I said it all the same. “Get out!” I really didn’t mean it as soon as I spoke, but it was too late. The words spat from my lips like magma. “You filthy old man – get out. I can’t bear to look at you.”
The bathroom door lock clicked and I knew he’d gone to clean himself up, probably fearing being seen by the kids or Josie.
Bursting in to silent tears, I wept for what felt like hours before falling asleep in my pyjamas and slippers on top of the quilt.
Grant and Alex
Sunlight filtered through the vertical blinds, casting warm, apricot-coloured stripes on the wall above my head as my heavy eyelids peeled themselves apart. The embedded knife of infidelity began to twist in the pit of my stomach as soon as I was fully conscious. Morning sickness rushed over me like I’d returned to my childbearing years. I was heartbroken. Lying still, I dared not breathe as I worried where Grant was. Had he left home?
A gentle tapping brought me back into reality as the bedroom door slowly opened. “Do you want a cup of tea Mum?” Emma’s sweet voice almost brought tears to my eyes as she tiptoed over to the bed.
“Yes please darling.” I smiled genuinely. It was just what I needed to start my manic mission day. In an instant I’d concluded that no other woman was going to destroy my family and take my husband away from me. The queasiness and the lump in my throat remained, but I was going to do my very best to sort everything out. Mission number one was to say goodbye to Josie.
“Sorry I was miserable when you came home. I went to bed early but feel okay now. I’m glad you’re home, Mum.”
“Me too darling,” I gulped.
“Why is Dad on the sofa snoring?” she whispered with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“I think I took up all the room when I came to bed last night.” Laughing falsely, I winked and ushered her to go and make the tea. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“I heard you two whispering and giggling last night,” said Josie, as she entered the dining room with her large dressing gown flowing behind her.
I froze.
“Really? We were just—”
“You two never change, you’re still like a pair of kids.” She laughed as she wafted past me to the kettle.
“Yes, I suppose we are,” I replied vaguely. For a dreadful moment I thought she had overheard us, and I had no intention of letting anyone in the family know of this awful situation I’d come to find myself in. Grant and I had to sort this out... somehow. The thought of a rekindled love affair with my husband kept me from wanting to tear his eyes out and remove his testicles with a blunt bread knife. My whole life had been turned upside down in just a matter of days, and I was now on automatic pilot to put things right and return my life to some sort of normality. I desperately needed to feed my dear family some salmon paste sandwiches. That would be normal.
“I’ll be off about ten.”
“Ah, do you have to go Aunt Josie?” whined Emma.
“Thanks for coming Josie, I do appreciate what you’ve done. Maybe we could all get together in the summer again.”
“Yeah sure, it’s really no problem Al.” She beamed. “I’ll see you again soon Em. It’s not long until the summer, you know.”
“Umm,” Emma harrumphed and walked off.
Waking to the sound of scuffled feet attempting an awkward tiptoe, Grant opened his eyes and remembered where he was as he caught a glimpse of Alex disappearing into the dining room. Knowing her well enough to know that he should leave her alone this morning, he skulked upstairs and climbed into their warm bed. The smell of his wife peppered the pillow as Grant embraced it in his arms and breathed in deeply. Then the thudding pain began between his eyes as he tried to go back to sleep. Remorse accentuated his thumping headache and Grant realised that there was little or no chance of him drifting off again. So he lay there, puzzling over what he should do. He had no idea.
Luckily the boys were completely unaware of the brooding bleakness bleeding from their parents.
Noticing that Grant was doing as good a job as I in covering things up until we could be alone to fight it out, I gave him credit for that at least. Our time would come, and when it did, I had a plan.
The day trickled by dimly under a cloud of deceit and despair and the kids came and went, doing their own thing but ever-present in numbers or singularly.
Josie left later than expected with an inkling of doubt about her brother’s and my state of mind. Her last desperate attempts to raise the curtain on her departure were dampened by a dark atmosphere, which she just couldn’t put her finger on. Resigning herself to the possibility that it was her leaving that had created the sadness, she went on her merry way back to Wales and I breathed a guilty sigh of relief.
Spending most of the day in his shed, Grant kept out of the way, only appearing at intervals to take more headache tablets. I was sure he’d taken too many during the day but didn’t care to mention it or worry about it, hoping he would throw up and be violently ill or even end up in hospital having his stomach pumped after an overdose. I didn’t much care either way and could guarantee that I would not have been one of his visitors.
The illicit mobile phone had remained untouched and switched off throughout the day and sat deserted upon the dining room sideboard.
My list was growing: phone calls, shopping, cleaning, paperwork, visitors and Grant. I had no inclination to do any of it, except the Grant one, which had been written cryptically (ants r not Good, I like to crush them under my feet) so no one would question why my husband’s name was on my list. If it all got out of hand and I murdered him, the evidence would have been there in black and white on my ‘To do’ notepad.
Deep down in my heart, I knew he had made a terrible mistake. I knew he regretted his poor behaviour and I knew he would never do it again. I understood his vulnerability and weakness when I wasn’t around to pick up the pieces, but just because I knew it all already, I still needed to hear it from him. I had to make him feel worse than he already did. I was not going to forgive him easily.
The staff at my shop were self-sufficient and I made another note to reward them for their expert capabilities as soon as I was able to do so. I’d taught them too well, and wasn’t really needed at all. It had thrown me somewhat and jolted me into re-evaluating my current workload – perhaps I did take on too much after all, consequently putting me in the position I’d been in for the last five days.
Putting people off wasn’t my thing but I could not face anyone, least of all Evelyn when she rapped on the door mid-afternoon. I had just settled down to have a snooze when Aaron looked from behind the curtain.
“Oh God, it’s Evelyn, Mum.”
“Answer it or she’ll be over every five minutes,” I whispered. “Tell her I’m asleep.”
As I listened to the mumble of Aaron’s voice and the squeaky sound of Evelyn’s, I just about heard Aaron say that his dad was in the shed. Giggling to myself, I waited for Aaron to come back in and then said, “Give me a hand up the stairs, I’m going to bed for a while.”
Normally I would never have asked but I did not want the old witch to come in through the back door and catch me.
I slept rather peacefully for the rest of the afternoon, knowing that Grant was under the watchful eye of Evelyn. He was trapped in his shed-haven, like a buzzing fly in a web.
Oh, frigging great, thought Grant as he watched her creep through the side gate. This was all he needed. The arachnid had returned with her venomous fangs dripping with questions.
“Yoo-hoo, Grant!” She whistled through her teeth as she tapped the Perspex window.
“Evelyn, how are you?” he replied falsely.
“Good. How is Alex?”
“She’s getting better all the time,” he replied, looking over his shoulder for a glimmer of any hope in the shape of a child that may be in need of his help.
“I popped over to see if there was anything I could do or get for you.”
Yeah – get lost! “No, everythin
g’s in order now but thanks Eve.” Edging towards the door and out of the shed, Grant sidestepped past the black mini-beast in a vain attempt to get away.
“You’re not looking so well yourself Grant. Are you okay?”
“I’ve got a bad head, Evelyn. I was just going to lie down when you came through.” Instant frigging mistake!
“Oh dear, have you been drinking heavily again? It won’t solve any of your problems you know. You need help Grant.” Her downturned mouth stopped for a breath. “I’ve been so worried Grant, you haven’t coped at all well with this, have you?”
Fuuuuck off! You won’t be coping well when I stand on your neck.
“Just leave it please Evelyn, I’ve had enough. I’m going in for a sleep. Goodbye,” bellowed Grant.
“Well, I never,” she harrumphed, storming off as quickly as a two-legged spider could.
The haven of the felt-roofed shed absorbing the warmth of the sunshine had been discarded immediately once Grant’s cover had been blown. He had been sat inside, dozing at times and at others contemplating his next move in the battle to win his wife over. Now his only option was his bed. Sneaking through the house, he tiptoed upstairs and opened the bedroom door to discover Alex asleep under the quilt. Sliding in on the opposite side, he hardly dared to breathe for fear of waking her up and getting kicked out. At this present time sleep was his only escape from a world of torture and turmoil.
The warmth emanating from his body calmed me. He could stay. I lay by his side, crying silently, craving his touch, a cuddle, a kiss. The flip side was that I hated him. I never wanted to be anywhere near him again. I would never make love to him ever again. Hate... love... hate.
Two more days drifted by in a blur of confusion, emotional turmoil, vicious words (on my part) and constant avoidance of visitors and phone calls.
Grant continued to sleep on the sofa at night, and when questioned about it, his excuse was that I needed some space until my legs were working better.