“All my stuff is at home and I’m too old for sleep-overs. Anyway, I haven’t got time. Too much revision and if I’ve got any spare time I want to go up to London and see Liam.”
Since the bone marrow donation, Liam and Eloise have been closer still. The procedure was a success. Marrow was harvested from the back of both of Liam’s hipbones and transferred to Beverley. Liam recovered very quickly and after a week or so he was well enough to leave Toronto. He and Eloise then spent three weeks travelling across Canada on the Trans Canada train, stopping off along the way. Beverley paid for all their tickets and expenses. They flew home from Vancouver, business class, a few weeks before the start of school term.
Eloise had stopped dyeing her hair in Canada and returned home with redhead roots. It will take a long while yet for the black to grow out completely. Liam is now back at university and they miss each other terribly. Eloise intends to apply to go to university in London too to be near to him but Rachel is not keen.
“You’ve got to live a little while you’re young, have fun, go out with lots of people.”
“I only want to go out with Liam, Mum.”
“You should spread your wings though. Your father and I got married far too young.”
“We’re not even contemplating getting married, Mum. We’re just happy together. Don’t project all your regrets on to me.”
Beverley made a good recovery and is now in fairly good health. She still needs to take it easy and has semi-retired from Perfect. Cassandra is now the CEO. Carol, Richard and Davey watched the wedding video on Facebook. The ceremony had taken place at Parkwood, now a National Historic Site of Canada, and a popular wedding venue.
“Looks an absolute fabulous do,” Davey had commented. “Pity no one could make it. Those gardens are wonderful. How about we do a couple of grow bags of tomatoes next year, Richard? Just along the decking there. I do miss growing a bit of veg.”
The Perfect factory in the Rhondda is due to open very soon. Cassandra has seconded one of her direct reports to live in Wales and oversee the project. He is enjoying the new challenge immensely. It should eventually result in the creation of at least 250 direct jobs in the Rhondda. Training programmes are well underway for the employees who will sew Perfect shirts. The factory and the new jobs it will bring have featured heavily in the media all over the UK and in Canada. Adrian Matthews, now reinstated to the deal, has been seen on telly numerous times talking about the project, looking very dashing in a designer suit and a crisp, Perfect shirt. Whereas Perfect no longer use Gareth’s firm as their lawyers.
His fellow partners are miffed at the lost opportunity.
“Best new client to set up in Wales in a very long time and you go and muck it up,” one of his partners says tartly when he discloses that Perfect have instructed another firm.
“You win some, you lose some,” Gareth shrugs. Adrian has picked up plenty of other new corporate finance work due to the coverage of the Perfect deal and is referring it all to Gareth who will smash his billing target again this year.
His hope is that Rachel will take him back and he still believes there is a chance of that. She is always so pleasant to him for a start, actually looks like she is glad to see him when he knocks on her door with a pizza or a bottle of wine, asking if she fancies some company. She always lets him in, sits in the kitchen with him to share the pizza or the wine, chatting about work, the children, how Iris has been selected for the Welsh regional development women’s football squad, how Nora has been nit free for a record seven weeks, the upset of Jake’s top two teeth finally coming through, the jagged edges sawing through his tender little gums and causing him pain. She even talks about the Perfect factory opening soon. Smiling and laughing, easy and comfortable with him, as you’d expect from people who’ve known each other a lifetime. But she always ushers him back out again afterwards and locks the door firmly behind him.
Adrian is keen that Gareth should get back in the dating game.
“I don’t know what you were thinking with Cassandra. It was plain as the nose on your face that she was gay. I could tell after just one dinner with her. Zero sexual chemistry. You’re a good looking bloke Gar, come out with me on a Saturday night. We can have a game of squash first and then go into town. The good looking divorcees will be all over you like a rash, believe me. Own hair, teeth and car. All the female company you want, no problem.”
But Gareth doesn’t want this. He wants his wife back, not another woman. He wants to come home of a Friday night with a bottle of good Chablis under each arm and sit next to Rachel in their garden, eating pistachios. Pile up the empty shells in a little heap, pour another glass, and watch as their four lovely children come and go. Take her to bed at the end of the day and hold her close.
Whenever he tries to tell Rachel how he feels, she changes the subject to talk of work or the children or how well Grace is doing back at home in Bucks, having secured not only outstanding results in her GCSEs but an agent for her novel.
“She and Jocelyn and Nick are coming to stay in a couple of weeks. I can’t wait. I’ve really missed Grace being around. Best of all Jocelyn says she hasn’t self-harmed in months. How amazing is that? Can’t say I’m looking forward quite as much to listening to Jocelyn brag how Grace is going to win a fancy fiction prize some day, but even Jocelyn has been supportive of me since you and I separated. There’s something in that old cliché about blood being thicker than water.”
Gareth hates this word. Separated. That’s how it feels to him. Like Rachel’s been torn away from him, his skin ripped raw in the process, like Sellotape he’s pressed to his lip and then yanked off, taking little lumps of tender flesh with it.
But eventually there comes a turning point.
It is a Saturday afternoon, his weekend to have the children. His parents have come for a visit and have brought Davey with them. His mother has brought two large bags of shopping.
“Brought a few bits with me, thought I’d make us some corned beef pie for our tea.”
Within seconds of arriving, his father and Davey are out in the garden. It is small and square just like the house and completely neglected, the grass knee high, dry and brown.
“How about I go ask a neighbour to borrow a lawnmower and Davey and I will tidy this up a bit. I could even pop down to the garden centre, and buy a couple of trays of winter pansies. Give it some colour for this last little bit of autumn sunshine.”
“I don’t know any of my neighbours, Dad.”
“So? I’ll ask nice, don’t worry.”
Iris and Nora seize on the opportunity.
“While Granddad and Davey are doing the garden, how about you take us swimming Dad? To the big pool with the slides?”
“I’m not coming swimming,” Eloise says abruptly. “I came for a visit with my grandparents not to sluice around in lukewarm chlorine with half of Cardiff.”
“She doesn’t need to come, Dad,” Iris reasons. “Just you, me and Jake. Please.”
“Did you pack your bathers?”
“No, but you could drive home quickly and fetch them for us? It won’t take five minutes.”
“Oh, ok then.”
His younger daughters cheer.
When he gets to the house, the front door is wide open. He knocks and after waiting a while walks in. There is no one downstairs but he hears voices upstairs. He climbs the stairs and finds the landing stacked with brand new bedroom furniture, a king-size mattress still wrapped in plastic, and his bedroom full of book club girls, busily painting the walls.
“Oh – hello you,” Rachel says breezily.
“Erm, the front door was open. I’ve come to pick up the kids’ bathers. They cornered me into taking them swimming.”
“They should be in their bedrooms somewhere. Or possibly the airing cupboard. Or failing that in a bag dumped in the hall somewhere. While you’re here I’ve got a ton of boxes of your old stuff you can take with you. Including that Oasis T-shirt I wouldn’t let you wear, e
ven back in Law School. I don’t think you’ve thrown a single thing out since 1996!”
“What’s the story morning glory?” Jenny sticks her head round the bedroom door, breaking off from decorating duties. “Do you want a gin? We’re got three different types in here. Delicious.”
“No, no thanks,” Gareth says, grumpily
“Suit yourself. Another hour or so Rachel and we should be done and we can get on with the next project.”
“Great.”
“What’s all the re-decorating in aid of anyway?” Gareth asks
“It was the girls’ idea,” Rachel replies. Fresh start and all that. I’ve even got a new duvet and pillows, new bed linen, the lot. Hey, you can have the old one if you want? I’ve already got spares knocking around and a spare is useful to have – sometimes the children like to take a duvet downstairs to watch films.”
“I do know my own children, Rachel.”
“Course you do. I know.”
“And the next project? What’s that?”
“We’re trying to persuade her to sign up to a dating agency,” Jenny’s voice calls from inside the bedroom. “Michelle’s met a really nice man online.”
“I thought Michelle wasn’t interested in men anymore.”
“I tracked down my libido in the end!” Michelle’s voice now. “With a little help from my friends and my Magimix. Working just fine now, thank you very much.”
“Congratulations.”
He stands around for a few seconds longer, Rachel looks at him expectantly.
“Hurry up then,” she says at last.
“What do you mean?”
“The kids’ bathers. Go look for them.”
“Oh, yes, ok.”
He walks around the house, collecting bathers. Nora’s bedroom is the last room he goes to. Her bug-eyed teddies are lined up as usual along her bed in her special order and as usual he takes two of them and switches their places. He knows she will spot it straight away and will then complain about it to Rachel, who will play along with this long-standing joke of his and tell Nora, just like he would, that they must have moved all by themselves when she wasn’t looking.
The full weight of his regret kicks him hard in the stomach, winding him.
He goes out to the landing and calls for his wife.
“Rachel!”
She doesn’t hear at first, over the clamour of women laughing and painting walls and drinking gin.
He calls again, more urgently.
“Rachel!”
She comes out to the landing.
“OK, ok, whose bathers can’t you find?”
“Could we have a word, please? Perhaps in here?”
He walks back into Nora’s bedroom and Rachel follows him.
Words gush out of him. “Rachel – I miss you so much I ache. Please let me try again. Let me come back and love you enough that you are able to get past what I did. I can make you happy again, I know I can.”
Rachel says nothing, just looks at him. Gareth continues.
“I don’t want to fall in love with someone new, however much Adrian tells me that there’s wall to wall single women in Cardiff, lining up to meet me. I love you and it’s only you I want. I want the chance to make you fall in love with me again. Please say you’ll let me try.”
“Adrian’s right you know. If you re-enter the dating scene, you will be spoiled for choice. You’re handsome, good company, got great hair and a well-paid job, you’re a hands-on father. All very attractive. And let’s not forget that I’ve trained you to be pretty good in bed too.”
“Thanks for the compliments. I think they’re compliments anyway. But it’s you I want to ask on a date. Will you, please? I love you Rachel, you know I do.”
“And I love you too.”
Relief floods through Gareth and he grins at Rachel and opens his arms, takes a step towards her to embrace her. But she takes a step backwards.
“But I’m never going to take you back.”
The grin on Gareth’s face disappears.
“Don’t look so upset. I told you this. When it all happened. I don’t know what makes you think I would change my mind.”
“It’s been a few months I was hoping you might be willing to forgive me now. Whenever we’ve had rows in the past you’ve always forgiven me within days.”
“Gareth! Most of our rows in the past have been about whose turn it is to put the bins out or change a nappy, or who should get up and do a night feed based on who has the most important meeting in the morning. This isn’t the same thing at all.”
“I know it’s not, I know. What I did was selfish and cruel and I betrayed you and our children and I could not be sorrier or more sad. I miss you all so much, miss being home, every second I’m awake. Please Rachel – give me a chance.”
“I’m well aware trying again makes more sense. We’re stuck with each other for years to come anyway if we’re going to raise our children properly. But I want to share my life with someone I trust. Like how I used to trust you.”
“You can trust me again, honestly. I warrant, confirm and undertake that you may trust me at all times.”
Rachel smiles at the legal language.
“I can’t Gareth. You broke my trust, and even if I wanted to forgive you, I couldn’t.”
He pauses. “So that’s it for us. Really it?”
“That’s really it, Gareth. Apart from the next eighteen years of co-parenting, followed hopefully by as many years co-grand-parenting. Let’s make sure we stay friends for all that, shall we?”
Rachel reaches over and pats him twice, gently on the arm, then walks through the door of her bedroom to re-join the decorating and drinking taking place in there.
Gareth takes a deep breath, bundles the swimming costumes under one arm and walks down the stairs and out the house, closing the door firmly behind him. He hurries to his car. The low, autumn sun is still shining and his children will be waiting for him.
ABOUT HONNO
Honno Welsh Women’s Press was set up in 1986 by a group of women who felt strongly that women in Wales needed wider opportunities to see their writing in print and to become involved in the publishing process. Our aim is to develop the writing talents of women in Wales, give them new and exciting opportunities to see their work published and often to give them their first ‘break’ as a writer. Honno is registered as a community co-operative. Any profit that Honno makes is invested in the publishing programme. Women from Wales and around the world have expressed their support for Honno. Each supporter has a vote at the Annual General Meeting. For more information and to buy our publications, please write to Honno at the address below, or visit our website: www.honno.co.uk
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First published by Honno Press in 2016. ‘Ailsa Craig’, Heol y Cawl, Dinas Powys, South Glamorgan, Wales, CF64 4AH
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Copyright: Bethan Darwin © 2016
The right of Bethan Darwin to be identified as the Author of the
Work has been asserted in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright owner.
The Author would like to stress that this is a work of fiction and no resemblance to any actual individual or institution is intended or implied.
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Published with the financial support of the Welsh Bo
oks Council.
ISBN 978-1-909983-46-5 (paperback)
ISBN 978-1-909983-47-2 (ebook)
Cover design: Graham Preston
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Thicker Than Water Page 31