by Lucy Dawson
‘I’ve left actually,’ I confess.
‘WHAT?’ they all exclaim in unison.
‘Well, technically I was made redundant.’
‘Mark!’ yells Mum.
‘Why haven’t you said anything?’ exclaims Chris.
Dad comes in, patiently clutching the crossword and a pen. ‘Did you know about this?’ Mum nods at me accusingly, like it’s his fault.
‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’ He crosses over to the sofa, sinks on to the arm and says calmly. ‘What’s the drama, Molly Malone?’
‘There isn’t one,’ I mumble as they all wait for me to elaborate. I notice Dan has silently appeared in the doorway, hands in pockets, and is looking at me intently. ‘They warned us it was probably going to have to happen and it did. I’ve taken voluntary redundancy, I had some holiday owing too – so …’ I shrug and try to smile brightly.
‘But, you shouldn’t have taken voluntary, Moll,’ Karen says with concern. ‘You should have hung on. You’re trying to get pregnant anyway, you could have gone straight on maternity leave and they couldn’t have made you redundant then.’
Oh Karen, leave it. Please.
‘Have you had the letter from them yet?’ she persists. ‘Until they’ve written to you and you’ve written back, it’s not legally binding, you could change your mind. Have you?’ She looks at me anxiously.
‘It’s all done. I’ve left.’
I think back to my conversation with Antony.
‘So that’s it? You ring me up and tell me just like that you’re off?’ he’d said gruffly. ‘You’ll get bugger all money if you resign, you do know that?’
‘You could have sacked me for what happened last night Antony. We both know that.’
He didn’t disagree.
‘Technically, it was on company time, in front of everyone. You can’t keep me on now and I wouldn’t expect you to, it’s not fair.’
‘I don’t need to discuss what happened again,’ he said brusquely. There was a pause and then he said, ‘You really don’t have to do this.’
I’d watched Dan walk past the door to the kitchen, shoulders slumped.
‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘I do.’
He sighed heavily. ‘Right then … Molly, I owe you an apology. I neglected to tell you that your notice period started on Monday, when you told me you wanted to accept the offer of voluntary redundancy, which I’m sure you remember, I accepted.’
‘What?’ I said, completely confused.
He ploughed on. ‘Which with the holiday you’re owed means you can leave immediately and of course you’ll get your redundancy pay.’
I finally realised what he was doing for me. ‘Thank you, Antony,’ I said quietly. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘You’ll be missed,’ he said sadly.
I didn’t see him when I returned everything back to the offices while Dan waited in the car park for me. I only had just enough time to text Pearce as I walked along the corridor to the HR department – madness really but I HAD to say how sorry I was for everything.
He texted me back immediately.
No – I owe you one! I have accepted redundancy too – finish after Christmas – and S dumped me! Sleeping with you was the best thing I never did! Would say stay in touch but … Hope everything works out the way you want it to. Take care mate xx
‘It’s all final – done and dusted,’ I insist and Karen sighs heavily. ‘I wish you’d have said, I could have got one of my friends to help you out with some advice.’
‘That’s very sweet of you, but I could have asked Joss if there was any need. She’s very clued-up on that sort of thing.’
‘What’s she said about it then?’ Mum asks.
Nothing, I haven’t told her. She’d smell a rat. She was so great when I was worrying that Leo was going to turn up and blast everything wide open, phoning to check I was OK, listening to me panicking, sharing my jubilance when he threw in the towel … she deserves a break from me. She, like Bec, is completely loved up right now. In their own separate ways they each spend so much time looking after other people they’ve earned the right to just enjoy having some fun without distractions. And what could she do anyway? The only people that can fix this are Dan and me. No one else.
‘I just want to move on,’ I say truthfully to my family, briefly meeting Dan’s gaze before he looks away, ‘have a brand new start. I’ll get another job. Who knows – maybe I’ll do something completely different!’
‘Everything happens for a reason,’ Mum smiles kindly.
Yeah, you have a one-night stand with your ex, then your doctor tells your husband at a party. That’s the reason, Mum. If it weren’t for Dan, I’d have Dr Hubbard struck off.
‘Well, you’re being remarkably cool about it,’ Chris says. ‘Dan,’ he turns to the door, ‘your company is stable isn’t it?’
‘I think so,’ Dan says flatly. ‘You never know for sure, but we’ll be all right.’
My heart lifts hopefully, we will? Or does he mean his company will be all right?
Mum smiles at him. ‘Of course you will!’
The dogs bark and scramble to their feet at the sound of the doorbell.
‘And that’ll be Stu and Maria!’ Mum says. ‘I think,’ she adds firmly, taking my hand and squeezing it, ‘we should see if we can make this the best Christmas ever, don’t you? Dan, would you get the door? I must just nip to the loo.’
He obediently vanishes just as two small and very overexcited people appear in his place wearing their pyjamas. ‘Lily can’t get to sleep,’ Oscar explains helpfully and Chris stands up and says ‘Oh yeah? Just Lily eh? Come on you two. Yeah – don’t worry, Mum’s coming too.’ Karen’s chair scrapes back, the dogs are still woofing madly and I can hear enthusiastic hellos happening in the hall.
Only Dad is sitting still, looking at me carefully.
‘Molly …’ he begins.
‘Don’t, Dad,’ I get up quickly, determined not to be forced into breaking the promise I made Dan. ‘Not now. Please.’ And I rush out of the room before he has the chance to say another word.
Chapter Thirty
When we get back home at about ten at night, having assured my family that we will be back bright and early in the morning for Christmas breakfast, our front door is slightly ajar. My heart sinks. I was the last one out. ‘Oh look, Father Christmas has been already,’ I try gamely.
‘Shit!’ Dan flings his seat belt back. ‘You can’t have shut it properly behind you when we left!’
‘I was carrying the presents,’ I call after him, to excuse myself. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’
He ignores me and vanishes into the house.
Miraculously, however, inside everything is just as we left it. The tree lights are still twinkling away, everything is tidy, neat and still.
‘Well, thank God for that.’ He throws the car keys on the side in relief and makes his way into the kitchen, as I go upstairs to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I can’t believe I left the front door open. That’s what it’s come to?
I’m just flushing the loo when I see, under the edge of the bathroom door, Dan’s shadow outside. ‘Fancy putting the kettle on if you’re going back down?’ I call. He doesn’t answer, I just hear his feet on the stairs, which makes me sigh heavily. I know he’s trying and I know it’s only been two weeks and we’ve got a long, long way to go yet. I also have no right to any expectations at all, but God, this is tough.
When I get back down he’s in the kitchen putting a fresh bag in the bin. ‘Did you make me a tea?’ I ask.
He looks up in surprise. ‘No.’
‘It doesn’t matter if you didn’t,’ I say quickly. ‘I can do it myself.’
‘Look, I’ll do it,’ he goes to get up, ‘but I didn’t know you wanted one.’
‘I said, upstairs.’
‘I didn’t hear you – I was putting the rubbish out.’
‘Just now!’ I exclaim. ‘I said c
ould you— Oh you know what, Dan?’ I’m suddenly too tired to do this. It’s Christmas Eve for goodness’ sake. ‘It doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t.’
I make us tea and we take it into the sitting room, both of us shivering slightly because the house is still so cold. He doesn’t move away at least, when I sit down next to him on the sofa, which is something I suppose.
And Christmas Day is a bit better still. In amongst the kids’ Christmas excitement – the general noise of everyone mucking in together, not only is there safety in numbers, it also allows us to mask everything. Someone else is always there, chattering away, preventing Dan and I from noticing the silence between us. Mum and Dad do all the caring, plying us with more food or drink, activities and distractions are provided by the boys and the kids; there is a walk outside with the dogs and persistent requests to play another round of Hungry Hippos. If anyone notices Dan and I are quiet, they tactfully say nothing, no doubt attributing it to my sudden joblessness. We are gratefully swept up by the family tide and it really helps. It doesn’t make it all go away of course, but it shouts it down a little. Dan even abruptly kisses me, when we find ourselves alone for a moment in the kitchen. ‘Happy Christmas.’
‘Happy Christmas to you too.’
We just stand there for a moment, opposite each other. He reaches out and I think he’s about to hug me, only Chris walks into the room clutching some empty glasses. ‘All right?’
‘Yes thanks,’ Dan says. ‘Fat, but all right.’
Chris laughs. ‘I know. I keep thinking I can’t eat another thing and then having just one more chocolate.’
Dan allows himself a smile and turns to me. ‘I’m going to go and sit down in the other room. Coming?’
Chris watches him leave and then says casually, as I’m about to follow. ‘You OK, little sis?’
Am I? I think on balance I am. We’re hanging on in there.
I’m still feeling optimistic the following day. It’s a crisp, cold and clear Boxing Day morning – the sky a pale icy blue as we drive to Dan’s parents. I find a radio station playing carols, and when we arrive Susan has prepared a lovely light lunch, the fire is blazing away in the beautifully decorated sitting room … it’s like stepping into a Christmas card.
Apart from Michael. He and Susan spent Christmas at one of her friends’ in Oxford. Being away from the golf club irritated him, not having his home comforts irritated him – and he wants everyone to know how he has suffered. Like every good vintage, he does not travel well.
‘Bloody mattress crucified me. Imagine sleeping on a collection of cast iron springs, each of which has been wrapped in a very worn sock. No, it really was that bad,’ he grumbles as Susan gives him a look. ‘Then they had this God-awful Christmas morning breakfast of bagels,’ he says distastefully, ‘and cream cheese. Then nothing more until about three!’ he shakes his head as if he can’t believe what the world is coming to. ‘By then my stomach had virtually eaten itself and she hadn’t done enough of everything as it was anyway. I had three sprouts. Three! I ask you? What’s the bloody point? Never again. Never again,’ he grips the arms of his chair fiercely.
I say nothing, having made a mental note the moment we arrived to keep my mouth zipped, whatever he says. I am determined to learn from my mistakes.
‘And after lunch we all had to sit and play Monopoly! You can’t say no because apparently that’s what they do “every year”.’ He tuts furiously. ‘Well, from now on, what I do “every year” is stay here.’
‘Michael,’ Susan says, with just a hint of warning. But for once he’s too carried away to notice. ‘And who was that idiot Laura’s daughter brought along with her?’
‘Her new boyfriend.’ Susan pours herself another drink. ‘I thought he was very nice.’
‘He was an imbecile,’ Michael retorts. ‘Trousers halfway down his arse.’
‘He’s an artist.’
Michael snorts. ‘Oh well, that’s all right then. When you say artist do you mean he glues one lavatory roll to another one and calls it sculpture, or do you mean he can actually use a paintbrush?’
Susan ignores him and turns to me. ‘Would you like some more tea, Molly?’
‘What did the first husband do? The one that left her?’ Michael demands.
‘He was a hairdresser.’
‘A hairdresser?’ Michael repeats in disbelief, as if Susan has just said he was an Olympic gerbil trainer or something equally ridiculous. ‘Well she certainly knows how to pick them. I suppose he turned out to be batting for the other side?’
‘Actually he was having an affair with one of his assist ants,’ Susan replies.
Oh no. I look down at the untouched sherry in my hands.
‘Don’t you remember? They tried to sack her because Lydia – that’s Laura’s daughter,’ Susan explains helpfully to me, ‘didn’t want her around once it all came out, but the girl brought an unfair dismissal case. It was all very unpleasant, too much for them to cope with and he walked out.’
‘He left her even though he’d been the one playing away from home?’ Michael snorts derisively.
‘Hmmm. He actually ended up with the girl he’d had an affair with,’ Susan pulls a face. ‘They’ve got a baby now.’
Dan, that is not going to happen to us. We are in no way similar to this couple at all. I look at him beseechingly but he’s staring at the fire.
‘Meanwhile poor old Lydia’s wound up with that bloody artist bloke! Dear oh dear,’ Michael chuckles. ‘Just goes to show, doesn’t it?’
‘What?’ explodes Dan, making us all jump. ‘What does it go to show, Dad?’
Susan and Michael look at him in surprise.
‘You don’t know what it’s like to be either of them,’ Dan insists. ‘Maybe Lydia really loved her husband and wanted to try and work through it rather than just give up.’
Oh Dan … I feel my heart break all over again for my husband.
‘Well I can tell you now putting up with it was her first mistake,’ Michael retorts defensively.
‘Oh just shut up!’ Dan slams his drink down and gets to his feet. ‘At least she tried. Which is more than can be said for you,’ he jabs a finger at Michael, who, all of the wind taken out of his sails, collapses back in his chair in shock. ‘Sitting there passing judgement like you’re bloody perfect.’
‘Dan!’ says Susan, taken aback by the uncharacteristic outburst.
‘I’m sorry Mum, but enough’s enough.’ Dan is so angry he’s shaking. ‘It’s Christmas, everyone’s trying to be cheerful, and all he does is sit there and mouth off like he knows it all. You’re a miserable old fucker Dad. Excuse my language Grandpa,’ he turns to Susan’s father who is sitting on the sofa quietly.
‘He won’t have heard you,’ Michael retorts, but with considerably less bluster.
‘I’d like to go outside please,’ says Grandpa suddenly. ‘Could you help me up, Daniel?’
We watch as Dan heaves him out of the sofa. He leans heavily on his stick and begins to shuffle towards the door. ‘Come on, lad,’ he plucks at Dan’s sleeve with thin, birdlike fingers and silently Dan follows him out of the room.
Susan, Michael and I just sit there. No one really knows what to say.
‘What the hell has rattled your father’s cage?’ Michael says defensively.
‘Oh, because it’s always someone else’s fault Michael, isn’t it?’ Susan suddenly whirls round on him. ‘You’re a stupid old fool!’
My eyes widen.
‘Sorry Molly.’ She gets swiftly to her feet and sweeps out of the room after Dan and her dad.
Michael coughs awkwardly and grabs the arms of the chair before uselessly releasing them again. ‘Well, that told me,’ he says eventually.
I glance over at him; he looks tired and sad. An old man really, who ought to know better but just keeps managing to stuff it up regardless. ‘I always seem to say the wrong thing somehow.’ He scratches his head uncomfortably, looking very worried. ‘I didn’t mean t
o upset him. I never mean to upset him. I’m a bit of a disappointment to your husband, I think.’ He tries to do a gruff laugh but it doesn’t quite come off. ‘And quite possibly my wife.’ For the first time perhaps ever, I feel rather sorry for him.
In the car on the way home though, my compassion somewhat evaporates. Unintentional though Michael’s comments were, they have hugely upset Dan. I want to talk to him about it, particularly the bit where Michael said that woman made a mistake in taking her husband back in the first place – but I don’t know where to begin. Like Michael I suppose, I never usually have a problem finding words, it tends to be more of an issue stopping myself from talking, but this time I don’t want to make a bad situation worse.
We go virtually the whole way home in silence, he only asks, ‘Have we got anything at home we can eat?’ and all I venture is, ‘I’m sure we’ll have something in the freezer.’
I kick my shoes off as we get in through the front door and make my way across the sitting room towards the kitchen. ‘I’ll go and see what we’ve got that I could do quickly.’ Thank God for the tree, at least it’s not totally devoid of Christmas cheer.
‘Molly,’ says Dan suddenly, just as I reach the door. The tone of his voice makes me stop immediately. I turn and look at him. He’s standing by the front door still holding the keys.
We just stare at each other.
‘What?’ I practically whisper.
‘I think we need to …’ he says eventually and then tries to start again. ‘I can’t …’
I feel myself wobble and say quickly. ‘You can. You can do it, you are doing it. Please Dan.’
He says nothing.
‘I’m begging you,’ I say, tears filling my eyes. ‘I know we can do this.’
‘We don’t feel like us any more.’
‘We are us!’ I insist desperately. ‘We are. You and me …’
He closes his eyes and swallows painfully. ‘I keep seeing him touching you. I can’t get it out of my mind.’
‘But, it didn’t—’
‘—mean anything,’ he finishes. ‘I know. You said. But now I can’t stop thinking that he’s going to try and get in contact with you again. That he’ll …’ he peters out, exhausted. ‘I just can’t do this. It’s too much.’