by Carol Thomas
Abby considered her response and noticed his thumb was stroking across the back of her hand. “Just a drink? Nothing more. Just friends,” she affirmed, aware that removing her hand would have perhaps reinforced her point more.
“Strictly friends.” Bradley grinned and glanced past Abby through the passenger side window. Abby followed his eyes and saw Simon and the girls on the front porch putting up a homemade banner, and Bramble busily sniffing round the garden. The sight of her family tugged at her heart and made her grin.
“I better go,” Abby said, pulling her hand free and very much wanting to be swooping her girls up into a cuddle.
As she opened the car door Bramble turned and spotted her. Not being one to break into an excited run he stood on the grass barking in her direction. Jessica and Grace looked over, saw their mummy, and sped towards her. Realising all the commotion was because Abby was home, Simon pushed the last of the pins into the Welcome home Mummy banner and followed them, stopping abruptly when he saw Bradley, now out of the car, holding Abby’s bag and saying hello to the girls. Unaware that his friendliness towards them was simply based on them meeting at the school fete where they had greatly enjoyed throwing wet sponges in his face, Simon felt instantly jealous at the whole scene. He wasn’t about to let anyone else carry Abby’s bag and he wasn’t going to let anyone else appropriate his girls. Marching purposefully towards them, he looked directly at Bradley.
“I can take that!” he snapped, taking Abby’s bag. He didn’t want to make a scene in the street but he wanted to be sure Bradley felt unwelcome. Positioning himself between Brad and Abby and surprising her with a kiss on her cheek he added, “We’ve got a surprise for Mummy inside, haven’t we girls?”
As he’d hoped Jessica and Grace instantly lost interest in Bradley and started excitedly pulling Abby towards the house.
“Thanks for the lift Brad,” Abby shouted over her shoulder.
“No worries!” he responded a little flatly.
“Yeah, thanks,” Simon added with a dismissive tone, pleased with how easily Abby had been led away from him.
Now it was Bradley who felt jealous. He knew he had no claims over Abby but he also knew that he would like to, if only she would let him. He didn’t like the look on Simon’s face and he didn’t like what he had heard about the way Simon had treated Abby. About to get in his car, he stopped. Unable to help himself he called after Abby, “By the way, I forgot to say – panda print really suits you!”
With that, he smiled at Simon, got in the car and drove away.
18
Abby barely recognised the house as she walked in. It was immaculately clean and smelled gorgeous; she always kept a tidy house but this was quite simply beyond tidy. As the girls hurried her into the lounge, the sight of freesias on almost every surface overcame her. Their scent filled the air.
“Simon, they’re beautiful!” she exclaimed, taking it all in and trying not to think how much they must have cost. The room was a rainbow of bright colours and beauty. She had never seen so many freesias in one place before. On the walls hung more Welcome home banners made by the girls and a poster adorned with Bramble’s paw prints.
“That was my idea Mummy!” Jessica announced proudly.
“Hmm, and it seemed a good idea right up until he spotted a cat and jumped up at the window.” Simon laughed, grimacing – cats were about the only thing Bramble deemed worthy of a burst of energy, especially the sight of one sitting smugly on his garden wall. Abby’s mind scrambled, it was all so unexpected. Simon had always been dismissive of going anywhere near the children’s art cupboard. And now he had let them loose with it and even attempted something as bizarre as paw printing with the dog, something even Abby would have found a step too far.
“Sit down, there’s more Mummy,” Jessica said excitedly.
“Aun—” Grace attempted to speak, but Jessica quickly put her hand over her mouth to prevent her spoiling the surprise.
“Oh Grace, why don’t you come and sit with me, ready for my surprise?”
As Abby pulled her close Grace poked her tongue out at Jessica.
“Look who’s here,” Simon announced, pointing at the lounge door.
Abby looked over, taking a moment to register the sight of her friend. “Rachel!” she eventually exclaimed, leaping to her feet and hugging her tightly while Jessica and Grace danced around them.
Holding on to Rachel a little more tightly than she meant to, Abby realised how very much she had missed her friend. Tears welled in her eyes and she couldn’t help but let out a sob of happiness as she took in the sight of Rachel actually there in her living room. “I didn’t know you were coming. It’s been so long. Too long!” Abby beamed. “How have you been? What have you been up to?”
Rachel laughed. “It’s so good to see you. Sorry it’s been a while but I’m here now.” She gave Abby a reassuring squeeze as she spoke.
Simon looked at them both. His two best friends in the world together again, chatting away like old times, and knew he would be briefly redundant as they caught up. He took Abby’s bag and decided to make himself useful – it was a new concept to him to apply himself domestically but he was actually enjoying it. He had even learnt to use the washing machine, and if he was honest these odd jobs around the house occupied his mind and allowed him to imagine them all being together again.
Tipping out Abby’s washing he stared dumbfounded as her panda print pyjamas fell onto the top of the pile. Bradley’s words stung him as the meaning of what he had said hit home.
Abby walked into the room, needing a glass of water after all the excitement, took in the scene and saw the hurt on Simon’s face. He was of course jumping to the wrong conclusions again but at that point she didn’t care and she really didn’t want to upset him. Instead she walked over to him. “We all patrolled the corridors and went to children when we were needed, even if that was in our pyjamas!” It wasn’t quite the truth but it easily explained Brad’s knowledge of her sleepwear.
As Simon remained still she put her arm around his back and turned him towards her. Without speaking his body responded to hers and they embraced in a long hug. Abby pushed any thoughts from her mind other than how happy she was in that moment: she was back home, Rachel was there and her husband was in her arms. It felt so good to be holding him close, feeling his familiarity, the way they fitted in each other’s arms. The scent of his aftershave, the one she had bought him, lingered on his smooth, warm skin. Knowing it was momentary, that her mind wouldn’t allow her to enjoy it for long, she just wanted to soak it all up. “Thank you. I couldn’t have hoped for a nicer welcome home!” she whispered sincerely.
“Bloody hell! It’s good to see some things never change!” Rachel blurted from the doorway as Abby and Simon reluctantly broke from their embrace.
Putting on a smile, Abby couldn’t help but consider how very much things had changed, and regretted that she hadn’t been honest with Rachel before now.
Once the girls were in bed and Simon, aware that it was inappropriate for him to stay now Abby was back, had excused himself with a false errand to Kerry’s, Abby decided it was time to tell Rachel the truth. She poured herself a large glass of martini and opened Rachel’s wine. It was a warm evening. With the windows open the scent of the freesias drifted round the room. They chatted. Abby, aware that Rachel still didn’t know what had happened, only half-listened as Rachel told her about her latest trip to the States and how being PA to Rebecca Giles and travelling from place to place for weeks on end was not nearly as glamorous as it sounded. She had heard it all before. Abby knew that as much as Rachel might say she wished they could swap lives she would soon tire of staying in one place; living a life of domesticity would never be her forte. With the night drawing in Abby decided she needed to just get on with it and say what she wanted to say.
“Rachel, Si and I…”
Rachel looked at Abby, a knowing sorrow etched in her expression.
“We, well he…” A
bby continued. She told her everything about what had happened and how she found out.
Rachel listened to her intently. Abby was grateful that she never once attempted to question her or stand up for Simon. In that moment she was being Abby’s friend, and she didn’t need her to play counsellor or devil’s advocate; simply listening was enough. As Abby spoke she was aware how guilty Rachel looked. Sorrow pulled at her expression more than she had anticipated and she realised Rachel must have been feeling awful for not being there for her throughout this difficult time. But that didn’t matter, she was there now.
19
Watching Mallory read her book, Abby felt incredibly nervous. She meant every word she had written in her letter to Helen but now she was sharing it with Mallory she felt too exposed, as if she might have said or revealed too much with what she had written. She wrung her hands in her lap and searched repeatedly for a distraction. She looked at the many vases of sumptuously scented freesias that still blossomed in the room but even they couldn’t prevent her focus from returning to Mallory. Several minutes passed and still her eyes didn’t falter from the page. Abby could feel tension building inside herself and began to imagine grabbing Mallory by the scruff of her sky-blue mohair jumper and shaking her for a response. Finally, she could take it no more.
“Is everything OK? I’m sorry about the language, I should have rewritten it.”
“Abby, I …” Mallory began, peering above the rim of her chunky glasses.
Oh God, what? ‘I feel it unnecessary for you to swear in your homework?’ ‘I am disappointed?’ ‘I am going to have you certified?’
“I’m so pleased you did it. You wrote down your feelings; you let your mind speak.” Mallory’s face lit up; she genuinely looked pleased.
Abby’s eyes widened. She was taken aback. With the residential to focus on and then Rachel’s arrival she hadn’t really thought about her achievement. Yes, she’d been pleased to see a page of her own words, but she hadn’t actually considered what she had written. Her words, her own thoughts and feelings – they were there on the page. Tears welled in her eyes. Yes, she had let her anger vent and not just in frustrated grunts, tantrums and growls; she had actually managed it in words. Her words, all her own words!
“Except, I have to wonder…” Mallory broke into her thoughts. “Why Helen?”
I hate her; she slept with my husband – who else would I vent at? Abby didn’t respond.
Mallory raised her eyebrows and lifted the book to emphasise her words. “Why write to Helen? Did she betray you?”
Abby felt agitated, the feelings of pride at having written her thoughts quickly disappearing as she felt as if she was about to be told off. “You said write to Simon or Helen.” The words came out more defensively than she intended.
“Yes. Yes, I did. But most of what you say here, your anger about the lies, the cheating, the betrayal, how hurt you are… couldn’t most of that also be directed at Simon?” Mallory suggested, her voice too calm and light for the depth of her question.
Abby wasn’t prepared for this. She had done what Mallory asked and she didn’t want to probe further into what she had put; simply writing it had felt like a release.
“Abby? Does it bother you that I say that?”
“… A bit.”
“Why, Abby? Why does it bother you?”
Abby took a long drink of her Evian and wished it were something stronger. She waited, hoping Mallory would fill the silence but she didn’t.
“ Because… because…”
“Yes?... Go on.”
Abby paused, trying to hold back, trying not to give way to the anger building inside her. She couldn’t just succumb to it; she feared unleashing it. Now she was learning to control her mind the thought of unshackling the demons within made her anxious. Abby attempted to steady her rapid breathing.
Mallory’s penetrating gaze remained fixed, urging her to speak. “Why does it bother you?” she repeated coaxingly, willing her to respond.
Abby shifted uneasily, desperate to speak and yet frightened to hear her own words.
“Why Abby?”
“Because I know that!” she eventually stated. “I know it!”
“You know it?” Mallory leapt on the response.
Yes, that’s what I said. “Yes, I know it was Simon, of course I know it was him…” Abby spat the words; unwelcome tears pricking at her eyes, her voice too shrill, her whole body convulsing. “I know he betrayed me! I know he did it and I hate that he did that to me!” She bit her bottom lip to stop herself but it was too late; with the words out, she sobbed helplessly, unable to stop the tears.
“It’s OK,” Mallory reassured her, reaching across with a tissue. “It’s OK.” She waited for Abby’s breathing to slow and her tears to ebb before speaking again. “Abby, you can voice how you feel.”
“But I can’t,” Abby replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Why? Why do you feel that way? You can own your feelings Abby. You can say how you feel.”
“I can’t.”
“But to me, Abby – as a start, you can share your feelings with me.”
Abby shakily drank the rest of her Evian and waited a long moment. She felt calmer but washed out. Part of her wanted to speak, to just let the angst go. Holding on was making her weary and she didn’t have the energy to keep fighting.
“But if I do… If I say how I feel… how I truly feel, if I speak the hurt I really feel, then what does that mean? If I voice those words, the words I put to Helen in my letter, to you, to myself, or to Simon, how will I ever take them back? How will that hate and that anger ever be forgotten? My words would always be there. Non-retractable. Out there.” Abby gestured into the room, catching her breath and steadying the trembling she could feel building again inside. “What if that hate consumes me… or us – Simon and I? What if it consumes us?” A tear rolled down her face as the finality implied in what she was saying hit.
Mallory looked at her, not speaking, not wanting to interrupt her and allowing Abby to take the time she needed before continuing.
“And I don’t know if what I’m feeling is real. I can’t trust my own mind.” There, I said it; now you’ll know I’m crazy! “One day I hate him, hate what he did and know I deserve so much more and then on another I love and miss him. And what if I’m wrong, what if I say all those things but I trusted the wrong part of my mind? It’ll be me who has split my family up then, it will be me who made my little girls lose the opportunity to grow up with their mummy and daddy together. He wants me back; he wants us all back together. Only I’m preventing that now.”
Mallory decided to interject. Abby was clearly struggling with her thoughts and had raised a lot of important issues. Mallory wanted to explore them further before moving on. She shifted in her seat, ready to speak.
“Firstly, you can’t put all that upon yourself. Your actions or reactions now are a response to what has happened; it’s not fair to treat your decisions about how to proceed as if the past does not exist.”
Abby went to disagree, but Mallory raised her eyebrows and continued, “Secondly, not knowing your mind is entirely understandable; you have every right to feel confused and to allow yourself time and space to find your way forward. You deserve that.”
Abby listened, not entirely convinced.
“Don’t you think that’s understandable under the circumstances Abby?”
“Is it? I don’t know. I know other people whose partners have had affairs and they’ve moved on, or at least they’ve known what they wanted,” she corrected thinking of Jo Simms. “So why don’t I? It’s all so confusing.”
Mallory removed her glasses and sat back, allowing Abby to continue.
“You see in theory, I always knew – at least I thought I knew – how I would deal with this; in my mind it was so straightforward. Books and films informed my opinions and I suppose I felt safe – Simon and I had been together forever; I never really imagined this would be my reality.
It’s easy to form opinions when you are judging others.”
“And what is it you thought you would do? What advice would you have given to others?”
“Walk away. Don’t look back. You deserve more. It was all so straightforward in my mind. But really, honestly, this is anything but. I’m completely out of my depth here.” Abby lowered her voice. “To be honest I’m struggling with my own inability to cope. And of course I know this is not the worst thing in the world, so I’m scared that something might happen to put this in perspective. Not coping, it’s… it’s not like me.”
Mallory placed her glasses back on and slid them decisively up her nose. She felt proud that Abby had opened up, and knew that on some level she was starting to reach her.
“Abby, it is OK to feel the way you do. Everybody has a trigger – something that is beyond their usual realm of expectation or experience, something that is beyond their ability to cope in their usual way. While for some it could be the loss of a loved one, a pet or even a job, for others it can be the breakdown of a relationship, or elements within that relationship. You don’t have to conform in how you deal with it because there simply is no right or wrong way.”
“But sometimes I feel that I am barely dealing with it at all.”
Mallory tilted her head to one side and took a breath. “Be aware, Abby, that what you are experiencing is grief. You are mourning the loss of your former relationship, a relationship which spanned almost half your life, and you have every right to do that; it was something you treasured – even if you weren’t always aware of it at the time.”
Abby considered Mallory’s words but couldn’t help but wonder why this was her trigger. She had lost her dad after all and while that was devastating it had never made her feel like she was going crazy. If it was grief she was feeling now why did this feel in some ways harder than that?
“Am I a bad person because this is my trigger and not, say, the death of my dad who had cancer?” Abby felt guilty at the thought.