Spiralling Skywards: Book Two: Fading (Contradictions Series 2)

by Lesley Jones

  “How would you have felt if the tables were turned?”

  “What?”

  “If you’d turned up to my place of work, and I walked out of an office with one of my colleague’s arms draped over my shoulder like that, how would it have made you feel?”

  Fuck

  I let out another long breath and shook my head.

  “I never thought of it like that. I’m sorry, but I swear to you that I would never.”

  “It hurt.”

  Fuck, I felt like a dick.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. Luke told me what Mel said. I just added to your shitty day didn’t I?”

  “Well, you didn’t make it any better.”

  I kissed the side of her head.

  “I love only you. I see only you. I want only you. There is only you.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Please never forget that.”

  She nodded, but I wasn’t entirely sure that I convinced her.

  2014

  I was lonely. I was sitting in a room full of women at the local mothers’ group. Surrounded by people that supposedly had the same issues, the same day-to-day problems as I did, but I didn’t feel a single connection to one of them. They were nothing more than white noise to me.

  I came so that the boys got the chance to mix with other kids. The twins would be starting at playgroup after the next holiday, and then it would be just Lucas and me for three mornings a week. Next year, he would join them, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  What would I do with my days then? What would be my purpose?

  The twins were off playing with sand, and Lucas was in front of me with a car and a dinosaur. He was a funny kid, very happy and content. When the twins were rolling around fighting, he took himself away and just watched their antics.

  “Is Carter going?” Mandy, one of the mums who also had a child at Carter’s school asked me.

  “Sorry, going where?”

  “Jenna was just saying that all the kids from class have been invited for high tea at White Croft Manor Hotel for Isabella Collins sixth birthday.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say all the kids,” Jenna jumped in.

  “Oh, sorry, I thought you said the whole class has been . . .” Mandy trailed off as Jenna gave her a look.

  I felt sick.

  “I think what Jenna meant is that every kid in the class except for Carter has been invited to this party.”

  It had happened before. Carter’s behaviour was a whole lot better than it had been, but it still wasn’t great. He wasn’t a bully, but he didn’t take shit either. Part of the problem was that I kept myself to myself and didn’t really involve myself with the playground clique, so Carter was almost always the first kid the parents blamed when anything kicked off. It didn’t matter who said or did what or who started it—if Carter’s name was mentioned then he was always the one to blame, even if he wasn’t there.

  I wasn’t the type of parent that thought my kids were angels and could do no wrong, far from it. I had four boys and had seen what they could get up to, but I also knew my own son, and he wasn’t a bully.

  “No, I didn’t say that . . .”

  “Come on, Jenn, we both know how it is. I expected more from you though. I thought we were friends.”

  I didn’t give her a chance to answer. I scooped Lucas up, collected the twins, and left.

  My grandad told me once that if I felt lonely in a room full of friends, then I wasn’t really amongst friends.

  The mothers’ group was a prime example of that. Those women pretended to be nice, but I knew that they were all whispering behind my back. I had seen all the posts on Facebook when they met up at each other’s houses for coffee mornings or at the park for play dates, none of which I got invited to. It was exactly the same with the Mums from school.

  I didn’t know what I did to them, and they never said anything straight out. They all smiled to my face or stopped to chat, but I never got any invites. I wondered if maybe because of Carters behaviour, they considered me a failure as a mother and were just worried that it might rub off.

  I cried in the car on the way home. I turned up the radio and sang along to OneRepublic’s “Counting Stars” through my tears. They weren’t for me though. I cried for my son. I cried because I knew how hurt he was gonna be when he found out all the other kids were going to a party except him. It was the guilt that caused my tears. This was my fault. It was my fault for being such a shitty parent, and it made me worry about whether my other children would go through the same thing Carter was. Would my bad parenting impact their little lives too?

  I had tried my hardest to be a good mum. I tried constantly to always put my kids first, I’d tried and I had failed. I blamed her . . . it was her fault. She passed the shitty parent gene on. And him. He was no better. My mother and my father. I was just like them.

  Just.

  Like.

  Her.

  Him.

  Them.

  2015

  It was like a fog but worse than the fog I’d felt like I was in before, worse than the cloud I’d felt like I was living under, worse than anything I’d ever experienced, and I couldn’t find my way out. I didn’t see it, but it was there. It surrounded me. I felt it—smothering, choking, suffocating.

  Some days I could breathe and think clearly. Those were the good days. The best days. I told Liam every day was a best day. I had tried in the past to tell him when I was having bad days, but he never heard me.

  He just said, “Tell me what you need, pretty girl? Tell me, and it’s yours. Anything you want.” But he never heard me when I told him that I just wanted him. All I wanted was for him to see me like he used to, to hear me. When I told him, “I’m fine,” I wanted him to see, I wanted him to really hear me. I wanted him to just know that I was not fine.

  But he didn’t. So, I smiled. I fought my way through the fog, and I smiled, and I said that I was fine. Everything was fine.

  2015

  It was only August, but it had been a horrible, horrible year so far. The worst. The mining boom in Australia had gone bust and mines were being closed down everywhere. We were laying off staff en mass, meaning there were overseas workers simply walking away from the properties that they had been renting. Our properties.

  We had workers looking to relocate elsewhere, anywhere, and those who were looking for a change of direction.

  The rest of the company was sound. We had diversified to such a degree that supplying labour to the mining industry was now only a very small part of what we did. Investors in a dozen other fields who had money to spend but no time to search for what was on the market were still coming to us. We still did the legwork for them and charged a hefty fee for it. Over the years, we had also bought up large swathes of land and properties. Some we turned over quickly and made a profit, others, we were still sitting on and waiting until the market was right before we sold.

  The problem was that looking after other people’s families had been to the detriment of my own. I had been exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home to Sarah and the boys each night and forget about it all. It was the school summer holidays and the kids had all gone down with a stomach bug, and then Sarah caught it and was as sick as a dog too. So I felt a break was what we all needed. As a surprise, I’d booked us a holiday in the Sinopolis Hills, just outside of St Tropez in the South of France.

  We had two weeks of alone time. Two weeks of absolute fucking bliss. Just the kids and us, and they were two of the best weeks of my life. Sarah had colour in her cheeks, freckles on her nose, and a spark in her eyes that I hadn’t seen there in a long time. I felt chilled out, relaxed and like I had gotten to spend some quality time with my wife and my boys.

  The kids were tucked up in their beds and passed out cold. From the time they woke up until we dragged them in to shower and to eat, all they did was play in the pool, and it had me thinking. What we’d spent those past two weeks doing was what I spent my entire childhood
doing. We could give that to them. We could move back to Australia and give them the pool, the beach, the laid-back lifestyle every day. I just needed to convince Sarah.

  We’d celebrated our eighth wedding anniversary the previous week, and even though things had been tough for a while, this holiday put us back on track. The kids behaved, and Sarah and I had done nothing but misbehave. The only downside was Sarah forgot to pack her contraceptive pills and insisted that I used condoms every time we made love. That led to my promising her that as soon as we got back, I would go and get a vasectomy arranged. She was right, it was much easier for me to do it than her.

  I watched her walk towards me and then as she climbed into the spa, shaking her arse and hips and singing to “Black Magic” by Little Mix, while carrying another bottle of champagne with her. She straddled my lap and reached around to top up both of our glasses before putting the bottle in the cooler.

  “You trying to get me as drunk as you are, Mrs Delaney?”

  She shook her head with a big grin on her face. She looked unbelievably cute with all of the freckles that had appeared over her nose. I had never thought freckles were sexy till I met Sarah, and my dick definitely agreed with me on that one.

  Sarah was on her third bottle of champagne for the day, and her words were slurring. It was nice to get a glimpse of the woman I met over eight years ago. I loved her more now than I did then, but the pre-babies girl—the one who was light and full of energy and smiles—rarely made an appearance anymore. I knew it was hard for her. We had had four boys that were all a handful. I worked long hours and still had to occasionally travel, plus we had no family nearby to call on for support. I hoped all of that would change if we relocated to Australia, and I also hoped that when I explained the changes it would mean to our lives, she would agree to it.

  “Nope. You’re no good to me drunk. This is the last night of our holiday. I want you wide awake and raring to go.”

  “Bub, you’re straddling my lap, grinding your hot little pussy on my dick, and brushing your tits against my chest, while wearing four fucking triangles of fabric. I’m most definitely raring to go, just say the word, and I’m all yours.”

  I bit her shoulder, drained my glass, and then undid her bikini top. She arched her back, tilting her face to the sky as I sucked, bit, and palmed her tits. She let out a long sigh of contentment, which just made me harder. Making her happy turned me on, and I had a feeling I hadn’t been doing enough of that lately. It wasn’t even a feeling—it was a fact.

  “Put your glass down and stroke my cock, babe.”

  She finished her drink and set the glass beside my head, pulled the Velcro apart on my boardies, loosened the laces, and gripped me in her hand.

  “Where’d you want me to fuck you tonight, baby?”

  “Here’ll do.”

  I threw my head back and laughed and she gave me a bleary eyed, lopsided grin.

  “What? What did I say?” She laughed. Forget the butterflies, I had a whole fucking zoo in my belly right then.

  “Fuck I love you.” I pulled her mouth to mine and kissed her smile. “I meant your cunt or your mouth, not where in the villa but never mind. Your answer works, too.”

  “Oh.” She laughed harder, and it was the best sound ever.

  I lifted my hips off the shelf seat that was around the edge of the spa. “Take them off for me.”

  She slid them over my hips and then peeled her own off before settling back on my lap.

  “Turn around for me.” She did as she was told, but then she shocked the shit out of me when without any prompting, she positioned herself so I was able to slip straight into her. Because of the height of the bench and the angle of my hips, I was balls deep inside her. The contrast in temperature between the spa water and Sarah’s hot pussy had me nearly coming the instant she rocked against me.

  “That feel good, baby?”

  “So good.” I reached around and rubbed her clit, my eyes fixated on where we were joined under the water.

  Her fingers joined mine, and she showed me where to touch her. She reached for my free hand and placed it over her tit, forcing my fingers to pinch her nipples. She leant forward slightly, letting me know what she wanted, and I took my hand from her tit and slid two fingers into her arse. She exploded. Her muscles clenched and tightened, and when she let out a deep-throated moan, I let go, too.

  Once we had both had a few moments to recover, I pulled out and twisted her around in my lap. Draping both of her arms around my neck, she rested her head on my shoulder while I traced my fingertips up and down her spine.

  “Bub, I know we’ve both been drinking tonight, but I wanna talk to ya about something.”

  “Pour me another drink first.”

  “You sure? We’ve got an early start in the morning.”

  She was pretty drunk and not the greatest morning person at the best of times, and I knew a killer hangover would make it so much worse.

  I twisted around and poured her half a glass, letting the bubbles fizz so it looked as if there was more in the glass. She took a sip with her eyes closed anyway, and I decide it was time to cut her off.

  “Tell me then.”

  “What?”

  “What you wanna talk about.”

  I didn’t know why I was bothering since she wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning.

  “What we’ve had here with the boys these last two weeks, this is exactly what I had every day and night from about November till May.”

  “Australia?”

  “Yeah.”

  “For us?”

  “Yeah. What d’ya think?”

  “To live, permanently?”

  “Yep.”

  I studied her face as she chewed on the corner of her bottom lip. She opened her eyes and looked up at the darkening sky.

  “What about my nan?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got no answer to that one I’m afraid. All I will say is, I love your nan and appreciate everything that she’s done for you and us, but our priority now has gotta be our boys.”

  “Lemme think about it.”

  “You can think about it. It’s just an idea, and I wanted to put it out there. Work’s gonna be insane until we get the mining side of things shut down in February, so I’m thinking maybe during our summer would be a good time, let Carter finish out the school year first.”

  She nodded. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

  “Great, fantastic, babe. You can do that while you think about Australia.” She laughed drunkenly, and I stood us both up and helped her up to our bedroom. I help her get showered, dried and into bed, and then I forced her to take a couple of paracetamol and drink a large glass of lemonade. When she was settled, I slid into bed with her and pulled her into my arms.

  “Thanks for a great holiday, pretty girl. Here’s to us and new beginnings.”

  “I love you a lottle, Aussie Husband.”

  “Love you a lottle more.”

  2015

  I was pregnant.

  I hadn’t done a test yet, but I had been through this enough times that I knew the signs. And I knew. I was pregnant.

  We had drunken, unprotected sex in the spa on the last night of our holiday in the South of France. We had been back just two weeks, but I knew. I just knew.

  It was my own fault. I made Liam promise me earlier that day that if I got messy drunk and we ended up having sex he’d either use a condom or pull out. He obviously did neither. Ultimately though, it was my body, my responsibility. I was to blame.

  I came back from that holiday in such a good place. For two whole weeks, I had felt like myself again. The fog I’d been living under was there, hovering just around the edges, but it was lighter. I could see, hear, and feel in colour again. I hadn’t felt like I was pretending when I said I was fine. While we were away, I really was fine.

  I was fine.

  And now I wasn’t.

  I was pregnant.

  I couldn’t go back to that, back to
feeling the way that I did.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  I couldn’t let this baby happen.

  To be the best mother I could be for my four boys, I couldn’t have this baby.

  I couldn’t tell Liam, either. He’d talk me round. He’d have me bare foot and pregnant until I hit menopause if he could, and that was not what I wanted.

  Maybe in a few years I would feel different, but at that moment in my life, I couldn’t do this.

  So, I took the test.

  I made the calls.

  I booked the appointment.

  I arranged a baby sitter.

  Then, on a sunny September morning, I took myself to a private clinic and did what I thought was the right thing for my family and myself.

  2016

  The guilt.

  The guilt.

  The fucking guilt.

  It was killing me.

  I couldn’t look my husband in the face.

  I couldn’t hold my children.

  It clawed its way from my insides out. It wrapped around me. Choking. Smothering. Suffocating. I hid in the fog to escape, but even there, it found me. It was the ultimate predator, and I was its prey.

  The old me was gone. Lost. Consumed.

  When I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked the same. On the outside, I was the same, but inside, I was gone. I was nowhere to be found. I searched and I searched, but she was just not there. I hated that she was gone. I hated the person that was left behind, and I hated that convincing the world that nothing had changed made me so fucking tired. So tired that I just couldn’t do it anymore. I had nothing left inside me. Nothing left to give.

  But I lied. I smiled and I lied.

  I was fine.

  I was fine.

  I had done a terrible thing, and I would never be fine again.

  ***

  Christmas and New Year went by in a blur, and I sank deeper into the fog—the thickest, darkest, densest fog yet. I smiled and cooked and cleaned. I wrapped presents and put up a tree all by myself because I got sick of waiting for Liam to help me. In fact, I put the tree up five fucking times in total. Between Flynn trying to climb it, Lucas pulling the decorations from it, and the three eldest boys colliding with it during their ultimate play fight tournaments, it was knocked over four times.