by Annie Lyons
‘Then don’t go, please,’ says Emma, the tears welling in her eyes. ‘Just give me a bit of time to sort myself out,’ she pleads.
She can see tears forming in his eyes too as he zips up his bag. ‘I don’t think so, Emma. I’ve got to protect myself too, you know?’ He darts down the stairs and Emma hears the front door slam behind him. She runs to the window and watches him drive off. She stands there for a while looking at the pool of streetlight where his car was. Then she crumples to the floor and cries heavy, silent sobs.
‘We’re going on a –’
‘BEAR HUNT!’
‘We’re going to catch a –’
‘BIG ONE!’
‘What a –’
‘DADDY!’ shout the three children using their small-person, radar-ears as Steve turns his key in the door.
‘Hello-o!’ says Steve, galloping up the stairs two at a time, before he is leapt on by the children. He manages to stagger to his feet ‘What a lovely welcome! How are you lot?’
The children all talk at once, telling Steve snippets of their day. Rachel notices that Steve hasn’t kissed her yet, but tells herself he’s just pleased to see the children.
‘Now, who wants Daddy to finish the story?’
‘Meeeeeee!’
‘Yes please, Dad. Mum is rubbish at reading this one,’ says Lily plainly. She leans in to whisper to him. ‘She doesn’t know how to do the bear bit properly.’
‘Oh I see,’ whispers Steve, not looking at his wife. Rachel busies herself by putting away the twins’ clothes. ‘Well, I do a very good bear so you better watch out!’ he adds, tickling them. They squeal in shared delight.
Rachel kisses each child goodnight and heads for the door.
‘I’ll see you downstairs,’ she says. Steve looks at her for the first time since he arrived home and she feels unnerved by his gaze. He looks almost disappointed that she’s there. She feels sick as she plods back down the stairs. Is he about to tell her the thing she dreads most in the world? Is he going to leave her for this Sam woman? She heads straight for the fridge and picks out a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and is already on her second glass when he appears half an hour later. He pauses in the doorway to look at her but she doesn’t return his gaze.
‘So,’ he says, his voice sounding cold. ‘What’s been going on?’
‘You tell me,’ says Rachel, immediately on the offensive.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning where exactly were you last night?’
‘I told you. I missed the train and stayed at Sam’s’
‘Ha! This will be the Sam who you go for coffee with and the Sam who sends you texts at the weekend and the Sam who answered your phone last night.’
Steve looks confused. ‘Yes. That Sam. Why?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me that Sam was a woman?’
Steve laughs mockingly. ‘Why should I?’
Rachel is furious now, lost in her anger. ‘You let me think that Sam was a man.’
Steve laughs again. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘You did! I remember. When you got that text from her about the football, I made a comment about men being saddos and you didn’t contradict me.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Rachel.’
‘And you lied about working late. I know you did.’
‘OK, OK, but only because I knew you’d overreact. As you are doing now.’
‘So you did lie.’
It’s Steve’s turn to be angry now. ‘No, I didn’t tell you Sam was a woman because I didn’t want to give you another reason to go off at the deep end. I also didn’t think you needed to know because I thought you trusted me. I have been for a few beers with Sam because she’s easy company and to be honest, I’ve missed having someone rational to talk to.’
‘How dare you!’ cries Rachel. ‘So as soon as things get tricky with your wife, you go rushing into the arms of another woman!’
Steve shakes his head disbelieving. ‘I haven’t rushed into her arms. You are being ridiculous!’
‘Are you having an affair?
Steve turns away. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘Can’t do what?’
‘Listen to your paranoid ramblings again but to answer your question, I am not having an affair with Sam, who, by the way, is gay. What about you? Are you having an affair?’
Rachel feels as if the ground is moving away from her somehow. ‘What do you mean?’ Steve walks to the counter and picks up his phone. He presses some buttons and then holds it up for her to hear.
Rachel, we can’t do this.’
Rachel suddenly feels sick as she hears Tom’s voice coming through slightly muffled on the speakerphone. Steve is watching her, his face furrowed with anger.
‘Shhh, we can, come here’
‘No, we can’t Rachel.’
‘Why? Don’t you find me attractive?’
‘Rachel, there is nothing I’d like more than to make love to you.’
Rachel can’t listen any more. She can’t look at Steve and she doesn’t know what to say to him. Everything is a blur as she runs from the kitchen, grabs her bag and dashes out of the door. She sits in the car for a moment, sobbing and secretly hoping that Steve will appear at the door. When it remains stubbornly shut, she starts up the engine and drives off with a loud rev, causing an elderly dog-walker to stop and shake his head in her wake.
‘If you’re selling something, we don’t want it,’ says Diana flinging open the door and then looking perplexed and a little irritated to find her youngest daughter standing in the porch wailing like a banshee. Terrified of public displays of affection, she calls for her husband.
‘Edward! It’s Emma. She’s rather upset.’
Edward comes bustling out of the living room, an open Telegraph still in his hand. As soon as he sees Emma, he throws the newspaper to one side and hurries along the hall, his arms outstretched.
‘Darling girl! Whatever is the matter?’
Emma is inconsolable and tries to speak but starts to cry every time she gets a word out. Edward takes her hands. ‘Is it Martin? Is everything all right?’ Emma nods to reassure him. ‘Come in, sit down and we’ll get you a drink.’
‘I’ll do it. Gin and tonic, Emma?’ says Diana. Emma nods again, incapable of any verbal communication. She allows herself to be led into the living room, which is filled with the squashy sofas and pouffes Emma loved as a child. The walls are adorned with generations of photographs, and are testament to parental pride as every certificate the girls have ever won is also displayed. Emma sits down and accepts the very strong gin and tonic with gratitude. She sips it and pulls a face and then takes a large gulp as if the gin will force her to get her story out.
‘So, what’s happened, my love?’ asks her father.
Emma sniffs and takes a deep breath. ‘I think Martin has left me,’ she says with a loud sob.
‘I knew it! I knew it! Didn’t I say? I said there was something wrong. Oh goodness, we’ll have to cancel the wedding!’ says Diana.
Emma almost laughs. ‘Thanks for the support, Mum!’
‘Well sorry, but it has to be said.’
‘All right, Diana, let’s let Emma get her story out shall we?’
Diana harrumphs loudly but even she can see that her husband is right. She sits back in her chair and folds her arms.
Emma addresses her story to her father trying to avoid catching her mother’s disapproving eye. ‘Well, there’s this author at work.’
‘Oh my goodness – another man. Emma! How could you?’ cries Diana.
‘Mum, will you please let me finish?’
‘Sorry, but really!’ Just at that moment, the doorbell rings again. Edward and Emma look at Diana who looks around her and then throws up her hands in despair. ‘Right, I’ll go, shall I? Edward was never very good with axe murderers, so I suppose I better face them!’ says Diana.
‘I don’t think axe murderers ring the bell first but your mother does like a bit of drama,’ whispers
Edward. Emma laughs through her tears and they both listen for voices.
Diana is back in a moment followed by a red-eyed Rachel. ‘Well, I like the way you two plan your crises for the same evening,’ comments Diana. ‘I suppose you’d like a gin and tonic too, would you Rachel?’
‘Yes please, Mum,’ says Rachel, sniffing loudly.
‘And don’t sniff, Rachel. There are some tissues on the coffee table if you need one.’
‘Yes, Mum. Sorry, Mum,’ says Rachel, like a five-year-old.
‘Oh dear, what’s happened? Are you all right, Rachel?’ asks Edward. ‘Come and sit here with your sister and me. I haven’t had to do this for a while!’
Rachel takes her place next to her father on the sofa and grabs a tissue. ‘Hello, Em. Are you OK?’
‘Not really. You?’
‘The same.’
Diana returns with a drink for Rachel and stands awkwardly not really sure whether to stay or go.
‘Diana?’
‘Yes darling?’
‘You can sit down if you like.’
‘Oh, all right. It’s just that you all look so cosy. I wasn’t sure if you needed me.’
‘Of course we do, don’t we girls?’ Emma and Rachel mutter an unconvincing agreement.
Diana perches on the side of the chair. ‘So, Martin has left Emma and what’s happened to you, Rachel?’ asks Diana with the subtlety of a rampant wasp.
‘You’re kidding,’ says Rachel turning to face her sister and suddenly forgetting her own woes.
‘He hasn’t left me. We’ve just had words,’ says Emma with a defensive tone to her voice.
‘There’s another man involved,’ says Diana in hushed tones as if Emma is no longer in the room.
‘There isn’t, I mean there is but we’re not involved. We just kissed,’ says Emma.
Diana tuts. ‘Well, no wonder he’s left you.’
‘Mum, is there any way you could be a little bit more understanding?’
‘What do you mean?’
Emma sighs and wishes she hadn’t come here. She should have gone to Ella’s or Rosie’s. It was always this way with her mother. Tea and sympathy in a battle zone. Emma takes another sip of her gin and sees a get-out. ‘What about you then, Rach?’
Rachel’s eyes narrow as she realises her sister’s game. ‘Oh, Steve and I just had a bit of a row.’
Diana’s bloodhound radar leaps into action. ‘What about?’
‘Oh just about stuff that’s going on.’
‘You mean the move?’
‘Well partly,’ lies Rachel.
‘Rachel, do you mean the move?’
‘Well yes, among other things,’ she says, thinking it best to keep her mother off the scent for as long as possible.
‘I knew it! Edward, didn’t I say? That girl is not happy, she doesn’t really want to go, she’s just going along with it. I said that, didn’t I?’ She looks at her husband who realises that a response is required.
‘You did say that, darling.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to tell him you don’t want to go. He’ll have to say no to the job and either keep doing what he’s doing or find something else. Or maybe you could get a part-time job and we could help with the childcare? Edward, why didn’t you suggest that? Do I have to think of everything?’ And on Diana goes, her voice delivering each word in a rapid machine-gun fire staccato. Edward and the girls exchange subtle glances of amusement and let her talk. They are almost content sitting close to their father, while their mother pontificates to her heart’s content. It’s a picture of familial bliss. After a while, Edward stretches his arms and turns to his wife.
‘Diana darling, I was thinking about some supper. Would you like something?’ Diana leaps up as if a ten-ton truck has just careered into the living room.
‘I’ll go. You’ll only make a hideous mess. Girls, would you like a sandwich or something?’ Both girls nod gratefully.
‘Right, I haven’t got much in but I can sort something out and I expect you’ll be wanting another gin and tonic,’ she says scooping up their empty glasses. ‘Will you be staying tonight? Both spare beds are made up if you want to.’ She bustles off into the kitchen.
Rachel looks at her father. ‘You did that on purpose, didn’t you?’ she says with a weak smile.
‘Let’s just say I have my ways and means,’ says Edward smiling. ‘And now then you two, what’s going on? How are we going to help you out?’ Rachel and Emma look at one another. They are remembering how their father used to do this when they were upset as children. He would manage to somehow create a task or crisis to distract Diana while he sorted out their worries.
Edward turns to Emma. ‘Do you love this author chap?’
‘No, I don’t think so, oh I don’t know. He’s just –’
‘Different,’ says Rachel finishing her sentence for her.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. God, I should be the editor,’ says Rachel.
‘So, he’s different but what about Martin?’ continues Edward.
‘Well Martin is wonderful but sometimes, I just feel so –’
‘Trapped,’ says Rachel.
‘Yes! That’s it! It’s as if I’m old and married and my life is over.’
‘Thanks very much,’ says Rachel. ‘You should actually try being married.’
‘Sorry sis, I didn’t mean it. Anyway, you’re not trapped, you’ve got everything and you’re about to fly away and have new adventures. I’m stuck in London, about to get married.’
‘Sorry, did you say I’m not trapped? What about the small matter of three children and the prospect of following my husband to Scotland like the obedient wife?’
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Rach, but “obedient” isn’t exactly a word I would use for you.’
‘Bloody cheek. Anyway, you’ve got your career and life ahead of you. You can do anything you want. So you’re not sure about marrying Martin? So don’t.’
‘Simple as that?’
‘Well, why not?’
‘OK, don’t go to Scotland then.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it different? Just because you’re older than me and have three kids, it doesn’t make your life any more complicated.’
‘Oh come on, Emma, of course it does.’
‘You patronising cow.’
‘Oh, grow up.’
‘Girls!’ Edward uses his ex-headmaster’s voice to gain their immediate attention. They sit up and look towards him. ‘I think you’ve both got a lot to think about. Emma, you need to decide if Martin really is the one for you and if he isn’t, you need to tell him. He’s a lovely chap and he deserves that much.’ Emma nods, suddenly ashamed. ‘And as for this other fellow, well I don’t know, Emma, you’ll have to decide but if he isn’t a good man, don’t throw everything away. And Rachel, you need to really consider what you want from life. You and Steve have so much. You’re at a bit of a crossroads so tread carefully.’ Rachel knows her father is right. ‘Girls, I really think you need to take a deep breath and take stock of what you have. You’re both wonderful, clever women with long lives ahead of you. Don’t spend all your time waiting for life to begin – take charge and enjoy it for what it is. Now come here and give your old dad a hug before your mum gets back and starts laying down the law again.’
When Diana comes back, the three of them are cuddled up on the sofa laughing at some seventies sitcom they’ve found on the television. Diana watches them for a while, envying Edward and longing to join them.
Chapter 22
Emma is hiding in her flat. She phoned in sick today doing her best flu voice and has been spent most of the day sleeping and crying. She feels so weary, as if she could sleep for a year and still be tired. It had been weird staying at her parents’ house last night but she had found comfort in her dad’s counselling and even her mother’s bossy declarations that she’d ruined her life. There was something reassuring in the cons
tancy of your family. Even Rachel had been consoling and Emma sensed that there was more going on in her sister’s life than she was letting on. It wasn’t like Rachel to run to her parents’ readily; her father maybe, but to expose herself to her mother’s critical scrutiny was virtually unheard of.
It’s getting dark now. Emma hears the heating click into life and feels comforted by the normality of life. She doesn’t think she’s going to be able to go back to sleep so she gets up and runs a bath. She reaches into the back of cupboards to retrieve enough candles to light a cathedral. She dots them around the bathroom and goes to find her cosiest pyjamas and fluffiest towels. This brings on a fresh round of tears as they are the pyjamas that Martin bought her last Christmas. She is feeling weak and feeble and hates herself for this. She sets about lighting the candles and is just about to get into the bath when there is a loud knock at the door.
‘Oh bugger off,’ she curses under her breath, retying her robe and blowing out all the candles before hurrying downstairs to answer it.
Richard stands on the doorstep grinning coyly. ‘Surprise?’ he says, leaning forward to kiss her.
‘Oh hi. What are you doing here?’
‘I just wanted to see if you were OK,’ he says looking concerned.
‘I’m fine,’ says Emma starting to cry again, showing that she clearly isn’t fine.
‘Oh darling, darling. Hey, hey, come here,’ says Richard, taking the opportunity to hop over the threshold. He takes Emma in his arms, kisses her face and wipes at her tears.
‘Richard, please don’t,’ she says, backing into the living room.
‘Sorry, Emma, it’s just, God, you know I can’t resist you. Come on, come and sit down. Let’s talk.’ He leads her to the sofa and notices the empty wine glass. ‘You sit down. I’ll get us both a drink.’
‘Oh, right, OK’, says Emma, a little peeved by his presumption. He returns with two large glasses of wine and plonks himself on the sofa next to her.