The Marriage Mender

by Linda Green

  Her words stung. Not because they were meant to, but because they were true.

  ‘I know, but she wrote it off the day she walked out on Josh. She knows that too. She’s come back for Josh, not for Chris. I’m pretty certain of that now.’

  ‘And you’d happily have her over for Christmas drinks, would you? Leave them sharing a bottle of wine together while you went and stuffed your hand up a turkey’s arse.’

  ‘Thank you for the delightful picture.’ I smiled.

  ‘Listen, when you’ve been a midwife for sixteen years, a turkey’s arse makes a welcome change, I can tell you.’

  ‘Sometimes,’ I said as we stopped at the edge of the road outside school, ‘I give thanks that I didn’t meet you until after Matilda was born.’

  * * *

  ‘How’s the revision going?’ asked Chris, when Josh finally emerged from his room for a late breakfast the following morning. He might as well have thrown a lighted touchpaper into his room.

  ‘Fine,’ said Josh.

  ‘Fine as in “I think it’ll be A stars all round” or fine as in “It would probably be fine if I’d actually done any”?’

  ‘The latter, I guess,’ said Josh as he poured himself some cereal.

  ‘And have you got any idea yet when you might actually start revising for your mocks which, if I’m not mistaken, start in a little over a month’s time?’

  ‘That’s next year. I’ll start after Christmas,’ said Josh.

  ‘Some parents,’ continued Chris, undeterred, ‘tell their children they’re not allowed out to play until they’ve done their homework.’

  ‘Bit of luck mine aren’t like that, then, isn’t it?’ replied Josh with a smile.

  Chris sighed and shook his head.

  ‘I think what your father is suggesting,’ I said, passing Josh the milk jug from the fridge, ‘is that you put a couple of hours’ work in before you go out later.’

  ‘I might do,’ said Josh.

  ‘Only might?’ I asked.

  ‘Jeez, I don’t need you both getting heavy on me. Some kids crack up under exam pressure, you know.’

  ‘Somehow,’ said Chris, ‘I don’t think there’s any danger of that with you.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Josh, ‘you flunked your “O” levels, you’ve told me that enough times.’

  ‘Yeah, and look where it got me,’ said Chris. ‘Anyway, I had a valid excuse.’

  ‘And what was that?’

  ‘I had a girlfriend. She led me astray.’

  Josh smirked. ‘That’ll have to be Tom’s excuse too. He’s seeing a hell of a lot more of Alicia than he is of his history textbooks.’

  ‘I didn’t know he was going out with her,’ I said. ‘The tall girl who plays piano so beautifully?’

  ‘Yeah, she’s well fit. Can’t understand what she’s doing with him, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘Sometimes, a shared musical passion can impress a girl a lot more than a six-pack,’ said Chris.

  ‘Speaking from experience, are you?’ asked Josh.

  Chris opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. Josh glanced up at me, his cheeks flushed. I didn’t want to hear it. Whatever the attraction had been on Lydia’s part, I didn’t want to hear about it or think about it. Because if I allowed myself to imagine them together, for even a second, I would see them everywhere. Every time I entered a room I would hear their laughter, smell their happiness. And I was trying very hard to block that past from my mind.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Chris, standing up and busying himself by stacking the breakfast things, ‘I’d better go and see what Tilda’s up to.’

  * * *

  Nathan strode purposefully into my room as if he was about to chair a business meeting.

  ‘Right, let’s get down to work,’ he said, rubbing his hands, sitting down and crossing one ankle up on to his knee.

  Catherine followed behind, altogether more uncertain, and perched on the edge of the chair.

  ‘So, welcome back,’ I said. ‘How have you both been?’

  ‘OK,’ said Nathan, ‘though I don’t think we’ve really made any progress since the last session.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘And what makes you say that?’

  ‘We obviously did … er … talk about things afterwards, and Catherine still hasn’t changed her mind about starting a family.’

  I looked at Catherine. She was staring intently at the floor.

  ‘Well,’ I said, ‘that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been progress, and certainly my aim isn’t to get either of you to change your mind about an important issue like that. It’s to help you find a way forward together, and that will undoubtedly mean some compromises on both sides.’

  ‘Yeah, well, starting a family isn’t really something you can compromise on, is it? I mean, you either do it or you don’t. Someone wins, someone backs down.’

  Catherine’s gaze still hadn’t moved from the knot in the wood on the floor. I noticed her hair was different. She was wearing it loose and swept over one side of her face.

  ‘It is important that you don’t see this as a battle of wills, Nathan. I’m not asking anyone to back down. What I’d like to do today is find out a bit about your family backgrounds, to help me understand who you are and how best to help you.’

  Nathan let out something which sounded suspiciously like a sigh. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘we know who we are and, no offence, but we’re both busy people and we really haven’t got time to sit around navel-gazing. Time is money and all that, eh?’

  I hesitated before speaking. Partly to allow time to compose myself and partly to see whether Catherine would step in to fill the silence. She didn’t.

  ‘What I need you both to understand,’ I said, ‘is that very often when we look at people’s family backgrounds and early life, patterns of behaviour and learnt beliefs begin to emerge. And that helps you both to understand each other’s current position and helps me to see how best I might help you to move forward.’

  ‘OK,’ said Nathan, ‘though I really don’t think there’s much to tell, certainly not on my part. Born and brought up in Salford. Youngest of four children. Worked hard, first in my family to go to university, blah, blah, blah. Set up my own company, now employ three people. Coming from a large family, I always wanted a family of my own, children to pass the company on to when I take early retirement and all that.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘And what about your parents’ relationship? Was it a good one?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re still together, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘So it was a loving relationship, one where there was plenty of give and take.’

  ‘Oh yeah, my dad used to take the housekeeping down the bookies at the weekend.’

  He laughed as he said it and turned to look at Catherine. He appeared noticeably riled when she didn’t crack even the faintest smile.

  ‘So when you met Catherine,’ I said, deciding to ignore the comment, ‘what were you looking for in a relationship? What qualities did you see which attracted you?’

  ‘Well, we were just going out together at first. I was only young, you don’t really think about being with someone for life at that age.’

  ‘I understand, but once the relationship became more established, I mean. A lot of couples break up when they leave university. Why did you two stick together?’

  ‘We were both having a good time. There was no reason to split up. I wasn’t interested in anyone else. Not when I had Catherine. I mean, look at her.’

  Catherine shifted in her chair. She didn’t smile at him or appear at all flattered by the comment. I was aware that she hadn’t said anything yet.

  ‘And what about you, Catherine? How would you describe your childhood?’

  ‘Fine. Normal, really. I was the older of two sisters. We lived in a nice house. I always had lots going on, piano lessons, horse riding, that sort of thing.’

  ‘And your parents, what was their relationship like?’

/>   ‘OK, I think. They led pretty separate lives, but that was just how they were. They didn’t like being in each other’s pockets.’

  ‘And are they still together now?’

  ‘No, they … er … split up when I was nineteen.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘That must have been a difficult time.’

  ‘It was,’ said Nathan. ‘But I helped her through it the best I could.’

  Catherine glanced at Nathan and back to me. ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘he did.’

  ‘I think you’d better tell her about the other stuff,’ said Nathan.

  Catherine stared firmly at the floor again.

  ‘I mean, if we’re talking about our early lives and that, she needs to know what was going on.’

  ‘I really don’t think that’s necessary, Nathan.’

  I tried not to show my surprise at hearing Catherine snap like that.

  ‘It is necessary, because it still affects you now,’ said Nathan. ‘She can’t help us properly unless she knows about it, sweetheart.’

  Catherine stared up at the ceiling and blinked hard.

  ‘Please do understand that I need you both to feel comfortable with whatever we’re discussing,’ I said. ‘And remember that whatever is said in this room remains entirely confidential, unless I feel either of you is at risk.’

  Catherine stared straight ahead. ‘I used to have an eating disorder,’ she said, her voice soft but clear. ‘Anorexia. When I was a teenager.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me,’ I said. ‘Did you receive treatment for it at all?’

  She shook her head. ‘It started when I was about fourteen. My parents were in denial about it, I think. But I kind of grew out of it by my twenties.’

  ‘Not completely, though,’ said Nathan, his voice quieter than before. ‘Catherine still finds it difficult to eat in front of people. Don’t you, sweetheart?’

  Catherine said nothing for a moment. Then whispered, ‘Yes, yes, I do.’

  ‘OK, so how do you cope with that?’

  ‘I usually have my evening meal before Nathan gets home,’ she said. ‘It just makes things easier.’

  ‘And she doesn’t like going out for meals,’ said Nathan. ‘Which is a problem for me as it’s something I enjoy. And sometimes it’s important for business things too.’

  ‘So what do you do, if you do go to a restaurant?’ I asked.

  ‘Just have a drink, usually,’ said Catherine. ‘I might pick at a salad a bit, that’s all.’

  I nodded, trying to look at Catherine without making it too obvious.

  She was thin. Although, in an age when a size 12 was considered on the large side, it hadn’t particularly struck me until then. She also wore long sleeves, and scarves around her neck, which tended to hide the points where it would have been most obvious.

  ‘And do you see it as a problem, Catherine? Now, I mean.’

  She shook her head. ‘People simply think I’m on a diet. It’s not a problem. Not for me, anyway.’

  I turned to Nathan. ‘And what about for you?’

  ‘Well, I worry about her, obviously. I tried to support her through uni, when it was worse than it is now, but I’d still like her to get help for it. It would be nice to be able to eat out together like other couples. And I worry, of course. About whether that’s why she doesn’t want children. The whole gaining weight thing.’

  Catherine shook her head vehemently. ‘No,’ she said, ‘that’s got nothing to do with it. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Thank you for making that clear,’ I said. ‘Nathan, I hope that eases your concerns a little.’

  He shrugged. ‘I still don’t understand it. Because when I met Catherine she said she wanted children. We talked about it, how I wanted a large family, and she was fine with that.’

  I turned to look at Catherine. Struggling to work out which one of them was being economical with the truth.

  ‘I changed my mind,’ she said, looking down at her hands. ‘That’s all.’

  I saw Nathan’s jaw set, his finger tapping on the table.

  ‘OK,’ I said, ‘I think over the next couple of sessions it might be useful if I see you individually so we can explore these issues in more detail. How do you feel about that?’

  Nathan nodded. ‘Whatever you think,’ he said.

  I looked at Catherine. She nodded her head ever so slightly.

  * * *

  I was late getting home that afternoon. Debbie picked Matilda up from school for me. She texted to say she’d taken her back home and would feed her cheese on toast if she stopped talking for long enough.

  I hung my coat up, slipped off my boots and padded into the kitchen to warm myself in front of the Aga. I didn’t see Josh sitting at the table until I turned round and gave a start.

  ‘God, you made me jump,’ I said. ‘I didn’t even realise you were back.’

  ‘Sorry. I thought the coat hanging up in the hall might be a clue.’

  ‘Probably would have been, if I’d had my head together.’ I smiled.

  ‘Work stuff?’

  ‘Yeah. One of my clients I’m a bit worried about.’

  Josh nodded. Bit his lower lip for a second before speaking. ‘Mum’s invited me to her place for Christmas dinner,’ he said.

  When Nelson Mandela died, she came into the room and said, ‘Mandela’s dead and I’m a Celebrity’s on in a minute, if you fancy it.’

  I mean, I was a member of the Anti-Apartheid Movement, for fuck’s sake.

  11

  ‘Right,’ I said to Josh, attempting to appear calm about it. ‘And would you like to go?’

  ‘Well, yeah,’ he replied. ‘Kind of. I mean, it’s not that I don’t want to be here. You and Dad do a really mean Christmas lunch, it’s just that, well, I’ve never had the chance to spend Christmas with my mum before. Not since I was a baby, anyway.’

  I nodded in what I hoped was an understanding fashion, all the time trying to steel myself inside and ensure that, when I did speak, my voice sounded reasonable and measured.

  ‘You don’t have to apologise, love. I know what it’s like. I had to spend a Christmas Day half at my mum’s and half at my dad’s after they split up.’

  ‘Did it lead to loads of rows?’

  ‘It did the first year. Then, next year, Mum had to work at the hospital on Christmas Day so I stayed at Dad’s. And by the following year she’d moved to Portsmouth and I was living full-time with my dad by then, anyway.’

  ‘Why didn’t she keep in touch after she moved away? I mean, it’s not like Portsmouth’s a different country.’

  I hesitated before replying. ‘Some people just aren’t cut out for motherhood, and I guess she was one of them.’

  ‘Would you give her another chance now, though? If she got in touch and said she wanted to meet up?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘She didn’t come to our wedding or to Grandad’s funeral. And she’s never sent either of you so much as a birthday card. Sometimes you just have to accept someone’s not interested. There’s only so many chances you can give them.’

  Josh sighed. ‘If I do go, Tilda’s going to be well upset, isn’t she?’

  ‘She’ll come round. Especially if you get her a nice Christmas pressie.’

  ‘That’s if Dad lets me go.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time you two should talk about it. I mean, if your mum’s going to be around from now on, we ought to have a chat about how that will all work.’

  Josh looked doubtful. ‘Only if you’ll be there too, so we don’t end up rowing.’

  ‘You two used to be the best of friends.’

  ‘Yeah, and then Mum came back. And he can’t handle it.’

  ‘He needs time, that’s all.’

  ‘You’ve been saying that for months now.’ There was a catch in his throat as he said it.

  I sat down next to him at the table. ‘Your dad’s always been there for you, always protected you. If he is a bit over-protective sometimes, it’s only beca
use he loves you so much.’

  Josh sat and thought for a while.

  ‘Tonight, then,’ he said, ‘when Tilda’s gone to bed. I’ll ask him about Christmas tonight.’

  * * *

  I may have been physically present during the evening meal but mentally I was elsewhere. Looking down on the proceedings from above, as if I was having some kind of out-of-body experience.

  I saw a little girl who really wasn’t so little any more. A girl who sparkled with aliveness, whose many voices and animated expressions rendered everything she said and did a performance.

  I saw a young man still trying to find his place in the world. Quieter than his sister, but who sat and watched and listened and saw and heard everything, even words that went unsaid. A young man who was so like his father in so many ways, and who was trying desperately to bridge the gap which had opened up between them.

  And a man, a man who wasn’t like any other man I knew. Who ached with love for his children. Who made them tea and made them laugh and made them want to be like him.

  And hovering over all of them was this dirty great cloud. The one that I was sitting on. The one which was about to throw down its contents with no regard for the dampener it was about to put on everything. Because it wasn’t just about one day, though it was a very special day. It was about trust and love and letting go.

  And I was the outsider. Because I was the only one who wasn’t related to all of them.

  They were linked, the gang of three. Held tight in a triangle. And sometimes I joined in and made it a square, but it never felt as tight, as strong, as when it was just the three of them. And somewhere out there – performing the rain dance, perhaps – was Lydia, who had the power to break that tightness. To loosen the bonds. And what I didn’t know was whether one person could weaken the structure of our family so much that it might never be as strong again.

  Because, if so, it might be better to invite her in, to build a new, different-shaped family in the hope that it would be stronger that way.

  * * *

  I didn’t forewarn Chris. Josh was trying to be grown-up about this. It was my job to be there to support him. Not to do his job for him.

  Josh came into the lounge about half an hour after Matilda had gone to bed. Chris was looking at something on his laptop. I put the newspaper down and nodded at Josh when he looked at me.