Then one day, Theo came home after a particularly long day at the end of a punishing fortnight. It was nearly Easter and an absolute peak time for business, crucial for his annual figures. He’d had an unpleasant run-in with a supplier over the non-delivery of his entire order of summer-flowering bulbs. Much worse, he had just been forced to give a member of staff his marching orders, after discovering that he’d had his fingers in the till. Theo felt particularly let down, as he’d stuck his neck out giving a job to Anatole who had only recently come out of a young offenders’ unit. He’d wanted to give the lad a chance. Anatole had betrayed his trust, and badly.
With the benefit of hindsight, Theo could see that the day’s events had left him drained and defensive, and spoiling for a fight. By the time he got back, he realized that he’d long since missed bathtime and he fully anticipated Anna’s reproach. Instead, she greeted him without comment on his time-keeping, and poured him a glass of red wine to drink while she finished preparing the supper. The kitchen was aromatic with the smell of a slow-cooking casserole. There were candles on the table and a plate of French cheese sitting out on the sideboard.
‘Do go up and say goodnight, but they’ve had their stories,’ she said. ‘I should think Sam’s asleep by now. Please don’t let Beth keep you chatting. It’s time her light was out. And then there’s something really important I want to talk about.’
Over supper she told him about her madcap plan to go to Spain and walk the Camino. He was completely thrown. The idea seemed to have come from nowhere. He felt a surge of confusion, swiftly followed by anger.
‘How long?’ he asked.
‘A month. Perhaps a little less.’
‘And how am I supposed to manage? How on earth do you imagine I can run a business and look after the children?’
‘I’ve thought about that. Mum and Dad have offered to help. And even better, Tamsin’s available.’
‘Tamsin?’
‘Yes. She’s got a short-term contract in Guildford. She needs somewhere to live and I thought she could be a kind of au pair for a few weeks. You know how brilliant she is with the kids.’
‘So you’ve asked her already? And your parents?’
‘Well, in principle. I thought there was no point us discussing it unless there was a realistic way of making it happen.’ She picked at her salad, and then dropped her fork. ‘You’ve been very busy, these last couple of weeks. There hasn’t really been a good moment before now.’
‘I’m very busy because I’ve got a business to run, in case you’ve forgotten. A business on which we all depend for our living, while you’re not gainfully employed.’ A tide of fury welled up inside him. ‘Aside from the fact that I seem to be the very last person to hear of this plan – and I am your husband, you know – where on earth has this come from? What’s this all about?’
‘I guess it’s been evolving, slowly,’ said Anna. ‘I know I haven’t been easy to live with. But I’m much better. We’re much better. We’ve lost our son and we’ve been through hell, Theo. I don’t suppose our life will ever be the same again. But for me . . . I need some time out. I think if I can get away for a bit, do something totally different, I can have some thinking time. Some praying time.’
‘Bit bloody late for praying, isn’t it?’ Theo shouted. ‘If your God had been listening, don’t you think he just might have done the decent thing and let Josh live? Let alone the minor matter of Sam’s toes?’
‘Don’t be like that, Theo . . . Maybe it’s hard to understand but I want to do this in memory of Josh. It just seems totally the right thing to do. Stephen says . . .’
‘Stephen says? Well, what Stephen says goes, I suppose.’
‘Please! Forget Stephen. I’m sorry I mentioned him. Though he’s been a rock.’ By now Anna was crying. ‘I really thought you’d understand. This is for me. For us. It feels like another step on the journey of . . . coming to terms with losing Josh. It also gives me a chance to think about the future, now that Sam’s doing so well. It feels like I’ve come a long way, but now I’m kind of at a crossroads. I’m not sure where to turn. My thinking was that this is a way of, well, marking the end of one chapter before starting on the next. Which includes going back to work at some stage, you’ll be relieved to know.’
That had been a low blow on his part, Theo thought now. Gainfully employed, indeed. What a pompous prick he’d been! They’d always agreed that looking after the children was a vitally important job, and as valid a choice as going out to work. He’d been only too pleased that, provided they cut their cloth accordingly, what he brought in from the business made this more or less possible. Why hadn’t he understood what she was driving at? Why had he judged her so harshly? Thought she was leaving you, came his father’s voice. And why not? She was always too good for you. Shut up, thought Theo. You know nothing about it. Or her.
In the end, they made up, after the row. Sort of. From Theo’s point of view, it still felt like a retrograde step. What was the difference between Anna absent in Spain and Anna emotionally absent at home, as she had been throughout the long winter that followed Josh’s death? He half knew that was unfair, but it seemed that – yet again – he was the one left holding the fort. A martyr to Anna’s selfish whim. He saw that she was determined to go, and tried to wish her well. But try as she did to include him in her plans (‘Lots of maps or a single fat guidebook? Which do you think would be easier, Theo?’) he resisted all her attempts to win him over. Instead he clung unhappily to the small patch of moral high ground where he had pitched his tent, in spite of the fact that it appeared to be shrinking daily under the rising tide of support from her wider family and friends. Oh, Anna, forgive me for not understanding. I think I get it now, especially after this week.
They coped, of course. Meticulous as ever, Anna made extensive plans and drew up rotas before she left. Tamsin took up residence on the Brew House sofa-bed and threw herself enthusiastically into domestic chores and babysitting in return for free accommodation. After the strains and sadness of the past months, her sunny and uncomplicated presence in the household gave them all a lift. Beth, in particular, adored her. Tamsin never grew tired of playing make-believe with her Sylvanian Families or reading Pippi Longstocking (her current favourite). She even got Sam playing lopsided football in the garden.
Ruth, meanwhile, was an enormous help with pick-ups from school and nursery and general quiet moral support. At the time of the crisis, they were so taken up with living from hour to hour that Theo had scarcely appreciated that Ruth had handed in her notice as Director of Hope House. ‘Time for the family now,’ was the public justification for her abrupt retirement. ‘Thought you might need a little extra help,’ she added in private for Theo’s benefit. How true that had been. Some deep-seated instinct had propelled Ruth into making herself available to stand alongside them all in their bereavement, and guide them through Sam’s rehabilitation. Surgery, physiotherapy, regular check-ups. All aided by Ruth’s calm practicality and reassurance. Theo’s own poor mother, meanwhile, visibly flinched at the sight of Sam’s deformed foot and was prone to unhelpful outbursts of sobbing. But he was doing her an injustice: as regular as clockwork, Marion arrived at the Brew House on Saturday mornings with offerings from the farmers’ market: scones and jam, home-made cakes, oddly shaped vegetables, and on one memorable day, an improbable bottle of sloe gin.
Anna kept in touch by email and phoned whenever she could. She was getting on fine, and so were they. So all in all, it was OK really. If only . . . if only it hadn’t been for Beth’s birthday, thought Theo. He had no one but himself to blame for what happened. He sighed. He’d successfully buried the memory for years. It had started to rain, in tune with his dark mood.
But. Back to then. It was such a highly charged day. Anna had been due home, but was delayed by storms. He’d been so caught up in the ongoing narrative of his martyrdom that he’d done nothing in preparation. Another black mark against him! Ruth had reminded him, of course, and b
etween them they hatched a plan involving presents and a cake and a surprise tea party.
It went wrong almost from the off: he could tell by her face that he’d misjudged Beth’s present, somehow, though he really had done his best, checked it with Ruth and everything. Perhaps he should have asked Tamsin, but she was away all week in Manchester. And then Beth dragged her heels about going to school and he almost lost his temper with her, which was unfair, and managed to reduce her to tears. The trouble was, he had to be at the hospital with Sam for a check-up, and he was already concerned about leaving Sharon in sole charge of Greene Fingers because she’d only just joined the staff, and after the Anatole disaster he couldn’t afford to take his eye off the ball for a single moment.
By the time he came home from work, though, everything had improved immeasurably. Anna had phoned and said she’d be home within forty-eight hours and Beth couldn’t contain her delight. William had taken a half-day off work as a surprise and he and Ruth had clearly spoiled Beth rotten. They’d all had a lovely afternoon together with lots of fun and laughter, eating cake and playing silly games. And he’d almost forgotten that Ruth and William had offered to have the children to stay, as part of the birthday treat. Theo planned to go out for a drink with Jonathan, an old friend from agricultural college, who was now an animal feed rep and was passing through Farmleigh on his way back from a sales conference.
He went to the pub and had a really good time. It was a Friday night and the bar was pleasantly full. Pretty girls and laughing young men. Students who’d spilled out of the FE college round the corner. Office workers winding down for the weekend. He and Jonathan had happily reminisced about their student days before falling into conversation with a spirited group of Young Farmers. Lively company, who laughed at his jokes and made him feel young again. Had a few drinks and just forgot all his troubles for once. A carefree evening. And then . . . one stupid mistake. One kiss that led to another. And he found himself doing the one thing he’d sworn he’d never, ever do to Anna, having seen the hurt that Laurence’s careless behaviour had inflicted on her. He’d broken his marriage vows and been unfaithful to his beloved wife. Just because she was a long way away and he was feeling hard done by and the opportunity had presented itself.
Oh God. How could he? No matter that it was once, and once only; that he had had far too much to drink; that it was a complete error of judgement. Never mind whether Anna could forgive him: he wasn’t at all sure he could forgive himself. Appalled, he vowed there and then that she must never, ever find out and that he would put it behind him once and for all. When she came home, it would be a new start for them both. What had she said? A new chapter. Yes; that was it. He would make it up to her by being extra loving, extra understanding. Making it his single mission in life to make her happy again, whatever it took.
When she did arrive home – just a couple of days later – it had been remarkably easy for the simple reason that she was so transformed. She was lit up: the old Anna, and something more. A new energy seemed to course through her veins. It was as if power had finally been restored after a long, cold winter endured in darkness. For the first time since Josh’s death, she had plans, was looking forward to the future. He was so relieved to see her that he simply held her close and wept into her hair. ‘I’m so, so sorry. For everything,’ he said when they were finally alone together, meaning far more by his apology than he hoped she would understand. ‘I really thought I’d lost you.’
‘Me too,’ said Anna. ‘I’m sorry, too. I just had to go. But I’m home now, and we’re going to be OK. I promise. Trust me.’
And slowly, they rebuilt their lives, found their way into a new way of being together that encompassed their loss and allowed them to live with it. Perhaps, thought Theo, they were older and sadder than they had been, but maybe a little wiser too. The new intimacy that grew between them was a place of love and kindness again. Theo watched with admiration as Anna researched and made plans to retrain for a new career. They sat down together and agreed that they needed a childminder and possibly a cleaner too, and Anna said that she wanted to ask William for a loan. Theo resisted at first, but Anna was persuasive.
‘A loan, Theo. Not a gift. I’ll pay him back when I’m earning. Don’t forget, there’ll be fees and train fares as well. It’s going to be quite an adjustment for everyone, me being a student. I think we need some practical support, domestically, and we really don’t need any extra pressure on our finances right now. Let’s not make this any harder than we have to.’
Theo swallowed his pride. He knew she was right. But the most important part of the whole conversation was that they talked it all through as partners, without resentment, and made the decisions together.
And yet, and yet . . . although it became easier over the years, Theo could never quite shake off the feeling that he was living on borrowed time. That he’d got away with it too easily; that his transgression would, in the end, catch him out. So that when all those years later Anna’s diagnosis came and the horror dawned that he was going to lose her, in the very cobwebby recesses of his mind lay the thought that this was really no great surprise. Rather, it was natural justice. A catastrophe he’d brought upon himself. The punishment he’d always known was lying in store for him, a ticking time bomb.
‘Dad, come and look!’ Sam’s cry summoned him out of his self-absorption. He realized he’d been oblivious to his surroundings for the past – how many? no idea – miles. They were almost level with the factory works he’d seen in the distance earlier in the afternoon. But what had attracted Sam’s attention was something quite different. He was sitting on a bench next to a stout grey figure. On closer inspection, Theo could see that the figure was the rotund statue of a monk.
‘Dad, look! He’s called Brother Percival! It says Pilgrim bound with staff and faith, rest thy bones. I’m resting my bones! Can you take a picture of me next to him?’
Theo rummaged in his rucksack until he found his camera. Sam crossed his left arm over his body and leaned his chin on his right hand in imitation of the reclining figure.
‘Me too!’ shouted Milo, and squeezed onto the bench next to him.
‘You look like those three monkeys,’ said Theo. ‘You know, “Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil”.’
‘OK, Milo, you be “See no evil”, I’ll be “Hear no evil”. Brother Percival can be “Speak no evil” because he’s asleep!’
‘Maybe he should be “Smell no evil” because of his broken nose,’ said Milo, laughing.
‘Hey, Milo, mate,’ intervened Tamsin sharply. ‘Hop off, there’s a good bloke. Give George a shot. Not fair to leave him out.’
Milo wriggled, reluctant to cede his spot in the limelight, but Tamsin was insistent.
‘He’s OK, surely?’ said Theo. ‘George can have a go in a minute.’
Milo looked from one adult to the other.
‘Nah, come on, Milo. It’s George’s turn now,’ repeated Tamsin. ‘Don’t think we want to hang about in this rain.’
‘But it’s almost stopped!’
‘Milo, mate, don’t argue please. Come over here.’
‘Fancy a chocolate biscuit, Milo, old man?’ asked William. Milo brightened slightly and slid off the bench with a glare at his mother.
What was that about? wondered Theo. But at that moment, Beth appeared at his side.
‘Er, Dad? Can I, like, say something?’
‘Of course. What is it?’
‘So two things? First, I’m, like, sorry I swore at you earlier. Lost the plot. My bad.’
‘Um. That’s OK. Look . . . do you want to talk about these exams? Anything I can do?’
‘Meh. More of a forgiveness thing.’
‘Well, if we’re talking about forgiveness, I probably need to ask yours for . . . being thoughtless. Not realizing how much the GCSEs are preying on you.’
‘Shrugalug. Let’s not overdo it, Dad.’
Theo suppressed a smile. Right on cue, the sun came out. L
iterally and metaphorically. A faint echo of the lightness he’d felt that morning returned. The food conversation could wait: at least she was talking to him again. Treading carefully, he took a delicate step across the fragile bridge that lay between them. ‘The other thing?’
Beth blushed, and looked at her feet. ‘So, like, a friend, yeah? Would it be OK if . . . someone comes along tomorrow? Maybe Sunday?’
‘Of course!’ Theo let out his breath. He’d thought perhaps that Beth’s apology was intended to soften him up for something, well, bigger. Like going home. ‘Who’s coming? Natasha? Jade?’
‘Um, no. You don’t, like, know . . . him. Just a guy from Big Band. Tenor sax. Um, Matt?’
‘Ah. I see. Well, I look forward to meeting Um Matt. Of course he’s welcome. Will he need a bed for the night? If so, you need to talk to Father Stephen. He can probably give you some tips on handy train stations and so on. Assuming he’s travelling under his own steam.’
‘’Kay. Will do. So Dad . . . one more thing?’
Knowing Anna Page 19