‘Are you serious? You think I need a solicitor?’ I feel sick to the pit of my stomach again.
She jerks her head back to me. Her HDs are nearly meeting her hairline.
‘Eh, yeah, a hundred per cent. You need to know your rights, where you stand.’
‘I just want to see my kids, Corina,’ I say wearily as I take a seat at the table. She has the table all set. It’s so sweet. A small, white tea light candle flickers in a teacup-shaped holder in the middle. Salt and pepper set are embracing one another in a cute hug. Ketchup and brown sauce, HP, Colin’s favourite, and napkins.
‘Ali, it’s your kids I’m thinking about. We don’t want to upset them any more than is necessary. They don’t expect you home today anyway. Colin’s not going to say anything—’
I interrupt her.
‘He has a broken nose, I’d say! How’s he going to explain that?’ I stare at the flickering flame.
I wonder if Colin will remember Mark’s football game. The Ranelagh Rovers Under 6s are on a winning streak. Mark has yet to be called off the bench but he goes religiously week in, week out, never deterred by the obvious lack of faith Erik Clancy, the manager, has in him.
She folds the tea towel on the counter.
‘This is ready.’ Toast pops and she removes it and puts it on a plate. The familiar smell is comforting.
‘God, he was an animal, a total animal. It was like he lost his mind in that hotel room …’ I recall the fight again to her.
‘Please don’t think I’m giving that bastard a pass here, Ali, but I think we have to try and see where Colin was coming from? I mean, how did you expect he would react in that situation?’ I watch her as she dishes out the rashers and dabs the oil from the mushrooms with kitchen roll as I think of the answer to her very good question. What did I expect? She takes the plates to the table and then sits.
‘He saw a picture of you in sexy lacy underwear that you sent to a male work colleague, you were in a hotel room with the aforementioned … looking, as you said yourself, half undressed and him running a shower! What Colin did was beyond the pale – to Owen, how aggressive he was with me – but he did it out of hurt and anger and embarrassment. Not that it excuses...’
‘But Owen may never be able to paint again? It was just so malicious …’ I shake the ketchup bottle with vigour.
‘Ali, focus! Yes, it’s absolutely awful what Colin did to Owen, but right now I’m concerned about you. We need to consider where all this leaves Ali, and what it all means moving forward. It’s done now, isn’t it? We are where we are. We can go back over it and over it and analyse the brutality, whatever, but it’s not going to change anything, this is where you find yourself today … let’s move forward.’
A too big blob splatters over my mushrooms.
‘Let’s just eat … This is great, thank you.’ I can’t afford to piss Corina off as well.
We eat in silence, and I study Corina’s life-drawing of the old woman who really does look like a basketball hoop she has now framed on her kitchen wall, and somehow I can’t find it funny. It just seems sad. Hard to imagine I will every really laugh again.
Forcefully I throw the food down my throat, washed down with tea. Corina texts her friend and with regret I agree it’s the right thing to do this morning.
* * *
Anita, the family law solicitor, has agreed to see us in her home on Sorrento Terrace in Dalkey. After I’ve washed up, at my insistence, and Corina has showered and dressed, we make our way out on the coast road to Dublin’s homes of the rich and famous. The day is cold but clear and crisp and the drive is soothing. All the while I constantly call both Colin’s and Maia’s mobile phones. Now I regret not letting Jade have her own phone.
‘This is the road,’ Corina says as I look out her side at the most magnificent houses I have ever seen. Anita’s house is a towering mansion. We park in a space right outside and knock twice on the Jacob Marley-type door knocker.
* * *
‘So do you know where your children are right now?’ Anita sits behind a huge mahogany desk in her front room office, chewing on the sharpest pencil I’ve ever seen. She looks like one of the Desperate Housewives of somewhere or another. Her colour can only be described as orange, fingernails as long as Stanley knives, hair that is just too still to be real. Not one trace of the legal eagle about her. Corina has filled her in on all my escapades in Amsterdam yesterday.
‘No.’
‘Have you tried again this morning to contact your husband?’
‘Yes, by phone. His mobile has been off since yesterday; we don’t have a landline.’
‘What is it you want from me exactly?’ Anita nibbles the wood.
I look to Corina. I don’t bloody know.
‘Well, advice, Anita, if you can, and we really appreciate you seeing us. Like I said on the phone, I will send you over some more of those untested Botox home kits from Latvia you liked.’ Corina leans her elbows on her knees.
‘Could you? Can you get them to me soon?’ Suddenly she seems a lot cheerier. I’m not sure if she’s smiling or not. She plops her pencil in a glass vase.
‘Tomorrow. So where does she stand? What happens when she sees Colin? What if he won’t let her into the house? Can she ask him to leave?’ Corina belches out questions.
‘Oh, I don’t want him to leave!’ I am amazed at her questions.
Corina holds her hand up, waves it around to shush me up.
‘Let’s hear all our options, Ali.’ She winks at me. I scratch my head.
I want my mummy. I haven’t wanted my mummy for years but right now I do.
‘Well, I have a few questions too. I’m presuming the children are children of the marriage?’ Her teeth are blinding white. Comical almost.
Corina and I both nod.
‘I’m also presuming you own the house jointly?’
Why would anyone want teeth that white?
We nod again. Like two bobble-headed dogs in the back of a car.
‘Right, well, in that case you have equal legal entitlement to live in that house – Ranelagh, you say?’
The bobbing dog heads nod again.
‘Unless there is a court order which says otherwise, be that a barring order under the Domestic Violence Act, or a Decree of Judicial Separation or Divorce, making a court order in respect of the family home—’
Corina makes a noise and Anita stops and looks at her.
‘OK, sorry, sorry to interrupt you, I get all that, thanks, but what if Colin had the locks changed on the house, last night or this morning?’
I scratch my head aggressively. Oh, please. Make this stop.
‘Well, Colin, Mr Devlin, cannot change the locks to prevent Ali from entering or indeed living in the house. It’s against the law.’
Even though Colin has threatened to do this, I hadn’t ever really thought he would until Corina just put it in my head.
‘In relation to the children, both you and Mr Devlin are joint guardians and custodians of them. Meaning you both have an equal legal relationship with the children and have equal rights to make legal, medical, educational and religious decisions in respect of the children – you also both have primary care and control of the children. Neither party can remove the children from the jurisdiction without the other’s consent. If you are concerned about your children at this moment in time, with regard to them being in Mr Devlin’s care, we need to alert the CRI—’
Now I interrupt Anita.
‘I’m not worried about them, he would never harm them!’
‘What’s the CRI?’ Corina talks over me.
‘Child Rescue Ireland. As I was saying, if you are concerned, I’d advise alerting the Gardai. In any case in which a child or children have been abducted and there is a reasonable belief that there is an immediate and serious risk to the health and welfare of the child or children, the Gardai are allowed to seek the assistance of the public to help find them.’
‘No … Colin loves his childre
n. I have no worries about their safety, he’s a brilliant father,’ I repeat.
Why is my head so itchy?
‘Honestly, I’d suggest you both trying to figure this out without sitting in front of a judge. In relation to family matters, it is always best for parties to be amicable and to come to an agreement themselves. It is also much easier for parties to stick to an agreement they have made together than one that a judge may impose upon them. I’m sure Mr Devlin can find a place nearby and you can come to an access agreement.’ Very deliberately and obviously, she checks the slim gold watch on her orange arm.
‘It’s only fair that I move out,’ I blurt out.
‘Ali!’ Corina swivels on her chair to look at me.
‘I wouldn’t make any hasty decisions, dear,’ Anita says.
‘But surely this is my entire fault? Why should Colin have to lose out on living with his children every day … I mean, where’s the justice in that? It was all my fault!’
‘But you are their mother and Colin didn’t exactly behave like a gentleman!’ Corina says.
‘And he is their father. I made the mistake. I will get a flat in Ranelagh, and we can do something like they live with me half the week and at home with Colin the other half.’
Anita pipes up. ‘In Ireland, dear, generally speaking, children will not live half the week with one parent and half with the other, or do weekly on-off or monthly on-off living arrangements. Judges generally don’t like it and it’s usually not practical and also not in the best interest of the children. Most usual is the children live in the family home with one parent and enjoy access with the other, be that every weekend, every second weekend and maybe a day during the week as well. Regarding what you said there about this all being your fault, in Ireland we have a no-fault-based system of divorce.’
Her tone of voice and the way she emphasised the word ‘divorce’ tells me our time with her is up. Clipped. Final. I wish she would stop saying that word. Divorce. This is all becoming too real.
She goes on, though. ‘This means the courts won’t apportion blame or penalise one person because of the breakdown of the marriage. The courts may take behaviours into consideration in cases where the behaviour is so gross and so unreasonable that it would not be in the interest of justice to disregard it, and then it is only taken into consideration in granting ancillary orders like maintenance and so on.’ Anita rises now and we rise also.
I’ve heard enough anyway. I don’t even want a divorce.
‘Thanks so much, Anita … Sorry, tomorrow is Sunday, but I will have the home kits sent over to you by courier first thing Monday morning.’
She nods her head.
‘Can you have them delivered to the office and not here, dear?’ asks Anita and Corina nods.
‘Thanks so much again.’ I offer my hand and she shakes it limply.
‘My pleasure, Corina is an old friend.’
Then Corina and Anita hug tightly and we leave through her massive electronic gates.
‘Old friend, me arse,’ Corina whispers. ‘She wants the home Botox sets is all.’ Corina opens her car. ‘I only know her through that gym I once joined.’
As soon as I have clicked my seat belt, I press redial for Colin’s mobile and this time it rings.
‘It’s ringing!’ I shriek.
Colin answers after the fourth ring. I can hear wind and shouting.
‘Colin, I want to see the children!’ I yelp. I’m already sweating.
‘Are you back? Where are you? Who are you with?’ he asks in a very high-pitched voice.
‘Yes, I came back last night too, late, I stayed at Corina’s,’ I shout.
He pauses, before saying, ‘I’m at Mark’s match. Maia is taking them to see the matinee panto at the Gaiety after. I can come over to Corina’s then, if you want to talk?’
‘Yes, yes … OK … yes, thanks.’ I’m taken aback at his tone.
‘See ya then.’
And the line goes dead.
17
Early afternoon. Corina’s kitchen. South Circular Road. Dublin 8.
I’m sitting barefoot at Corina’s kitchen table. I’m not sure what to expect from this meeting with my husband on this otherwise seemingly innocent Saturday afternoon. This Saturday that could mark the end of my life as I know it. I push myself up and walk to the fridge, open it and take out a can of Coke. I never drink Coke, never allow the kids to drink it but I’m so nervous it’s a distraction. The ring pull comes away with a hiss. I take a long fizzy drink and I belch loudly.
He’s on his way to see me. What is he going to say to me? What am I going to do?
Corina walks in.
‘Before he arrives, I want to talk to you.’
She pulls out a chair and sits and I take my Coke can off the countertop and join her.
‘Like I said in the car on the way home: that advice Anita gave was all really beneficial. I know you are saying that you feel this is all your fault, but the marriage was in trouble, Ali, wasn’t it? Worse than I think I wanted to believe before all this.’
Was it really that bad? I question myself now.
Didn’t I only question myself last Sunday in front of my mirrors and come to the conclusion that I wasn’t really that unhappy?
‘Honestly, I don’t know what to think any more,’ I say, running my finger in the groove of the metal opening on the can.
‘I have to ask, and it’s not me being nosy, but have you spoken to or texted Owen since you got back?’
‘Oh God, no!’ I’m horrified she has even asked me that.
‘This isn’t about Owen.’ I stare at her.
‘Oh, but it is, I think he was the catalyst.’
‘He was my excuse, my fantasy card, my escape: I used him to compare Colin to and that was really unfair.’
‘So you aren’t in love with Owen?’ She shakes her head as she speaks.
‘No. I fancied him, that’s all,’ I say.
‘Well, it seemed a hell of a lot more than that to me,’ she says.
‘I was intoxicated by the fact he got me.’ I drink the fizz and swallow the belch this time.
‘And Colin doesn’t get you any more, right?’ Corina extends her hand and I pass her the can.
‘Oh, Colin knows me all right, but he doesn’t get who I’ve become. More, he doesn’t want me to know this version of me. He doesn’t want me to change, ever. I suppose I forced myself to admit, that night I wore the sexy underwear we were in an awful gridlock. If we could just stop picking at one another. You see, Corina, I can’t actually physically fancy Colin when he’s being a dick to me and without a sex life our marriage is in trouble. It’s a no-win situation. Owen was a welcome distraction.’ I speak the truth.
‘So what are you going to say when he comes over?’ she asks after she swallows her drink.
‘Doesn’t it depend on what he says?’ I answer her question and take my can back.
‘Oh, come on, Ali, of course not! Listen to yourself: speak up, love, say what’s on your mind, get it all out in the open. This is the point where it matters what you want! All this cannot be in vain! You weren’t happy. Your marriage has been damaged, badly damaged, and if you really want to fix it you need to work out the best way to go about it for you!’ Corina is angry.
I don’t know if I do want a separation. But I say this in my head.
‘Why are you getting so cross?’ I say.
‘Because I need you to take responsibility for yourself, for your own happiness, if you aren’t happy. Ali, he can’t make you happy unless he’s willing to change. Owen was just a diversion, agreed. I never thought you were in love with him, you just loved the fact he was so like you. You used the comparison to back you up on how different you and Colin have become. This point in time has arisen for a reason.’ She turns to the window. ‘Now it’s the time to make up your mind but I want you to know, whatever you decide to do, you have my complete and utter support. I will always have your back.’
She wink
s at me as we both look out the window; the day is so dark his automatic headlights light up her warm little kitchen.
The sight of his car pulling into the small driveway is familiar and unexpectedly comforting. I take a long slow breath. The car stops. He gets out. Black jeans, black runners and a high-necked green hoody. He beeps the alarm on and his wing mirrors turn in. I rise and go to open the front door.
‘Come in,’ I say and he follows me through. Corina doesn’t look up from her upside down magazine on the couch where she is now sitting, and he doesn’t acknowledge her. We go through into the kitchen. I close the door as I hear Corina turning on the TV, volume louder than it needs to be.
‘Tea?’ I ask. He shakes his head.
He leans his hands against the back of the high kitchen chair. Supporting himself.
‘OK.’ I nod.
His nose is black and blue with specks of dried blood still visible. I have to ask.
‘Is your nose not broken?’
He doesn’t answer my question.
‘What were you thinking?’ he whispers loudly.
‘About which part?’ I say.
‘When you sent him that picture of you in your knickers?’ he snarls.
‘I wasn’t thinking, clearly—’ I stop myself and start again: ‘OK, I was thinking about how unhappy I was and how … and how I desired him.’ I swallow.
Silently I thank God for Corina’s presence next door.
The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
‘How long was this going on for?’ His voice is steady.
‘Honestly, Colin, nothing ever went on. This last week I’ve been so miserable with how we were – the constant fighting, the effect it was having on the kids – and he was there. He’s … he was only ever a good friend but then I started developing feelings for him.’
‘Did you tell him this?’
‘I did in Amsterdam after I’d eaten a hash cake,’ I say.
He looks like I just told him I drowned a litter of newly born kittens.
‘I’m not proud of myself, Colin.’
The Week I Ruined My Life Page 20