The Girl I Used to Be

by Mary Torjussen

  TEN

  CAITLIN CAME BACK to our house with me that night. I knew she was bored and a bit lonely at home since Ben had started to work away. They moved up to Liverpool a couple of years after we moved to the northwest and now lived thirty miles from us. We usually saw her at least once a week, particularly when Ben was away.

  She came upstairs with me and we sat on the bathroom floor as Rory played in the bath. It was a Friday night and Joe had gone out to pick up some pizzas. I sat with my back against the tiled wall and closed my eyes. The late-summer sun was coming through the colored-glass window, and the air smelled of Rory’s bubble bath. He was singing a little song to himself, one that he’d learned in nursery that week.

  I patted Caitlin’s hand. “Watch out for Rory, won’t you, if I doze off.”

  “Of course I will. He’s the one I came here to see! But why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? He’ll be fine with me.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t see enough of him as it is.”

  “You look really tired. Are you working tomorrow?”

  I grimaced. “Yeah. Not until the afternoon, though. I’ve got to be there for twelve.”

  “And Sunday?”

  “I’m working the morning. Well, until two.”

  “So when are you getting time off?”

  “I’m not. I can’t afford to. But I’m not working nine to five every day. Occasionally I’m working half days. Well, more like three-quarter days. I go in midmorning sometimes, or finish early and then go back to lock up. Or I come home for a longer lunch.” I stopped, confusing myself.

  “So you’re in work every day?” Her voice softened, and immediately my eyes filled with tears. “That must be exhausting.”

  “It’s not that,” I said. “I am tired. I’m tired all the time. I just miss seeing Rory. Some weeks I’m working until seven for a few nights on a run, if people need to view later on or if I have to value someone’s house. He goes to bed at half past, so I hardly see him.”

  “Eight o’clock on a Saturday!” piped up Rory.

  I hadn’t realized he was paying any attention to us and shook my head at Caitlin. “Pas devant l’enfant.”

  “Did you know I can speak French?” Rory asked Caitlin. “That means ‘not in front of the child.’”

  She laughed. “Come on, mister,” she said. “I’ve just heard Dad come in; let’s go down and have that pizza.”

  * * *

  * * *

  LATER THAT EVENING Caitlin and I sat on the patio with Joe. They were drinking wine, but I poured Perrier for myself.

  “How come you’re not drinking?” asked Caitlin, and then she laughed. “Oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Joe.

  She shook her head. “It’s none of my business whether she has a drink or not.”

  “She’s wondering whether I’m pregnant,” I told Joe. “That’s always a clue if someone refuses a drink on a Friday night. She’s being discreet.”

  “I was trying to be!”

  Joe said, “You’re not, are you?”

  I laughed. “Of course I’m not. Don’t you think I would’ve told you?”

  He reached out and put his arm around me. “I’d hope so!” He kissed my cheek. “Maybe one day.”

  I smiled at him. “Maybe.” I drank some more Perrier, then said, “I haven’t felt like a drink for the last few weeks. But yes, we’ve been talking about having another baby, but not yet. Next year might be good. Nothing’s guaranteed, though, obviously.”

  “You lucky thing,” said Caitlin. For a moment she looked glum. “No point in my getting pregnant, with Ben being out of the country all the time.”

  “You could always go with him.”

  “What, and be a trailing spouse? He’d be out of the house for fourteen hours a day and I’d have nothing to do. No thanks.”

  Ben was an engineer who worked away for months at a time. On the one hand they were rapidly paying off their mortgage, but on the other I wasn’t too sure how long they would last with hardly seeing each other. I was always grateful to have Joe, when I thought of her relationship with Ben. It was so hard for her not being able to spend much time with him.

  We talked then about her trip to see him in Dubai in August, and the issue of my not drinking didn’t arise again.

  * * *

  * * *

  WHEN I WENT up to bed I thought how different that night was from the Friday I’d spent in London. I hated that feeling of being out of control. I knew I’d drunk those gins that night far too quickly, and again, I got a flash of the two empty bottles on the table. I shook my head. I should never drink like that again.

  While Joe was in the bathroom, I went back downstairs to find my bag. In the zip compartment was the receipt for the meal at the hotel that I’d received in the post. I took it out and looked at it again.

  Pâté and smoked salmon. Those were the starters. Then steak and chicken.

  I closed my eyes. What had I eaten? I had no idea now. How could that happen? No matter how many times I looked at the items on the receipt, I couldn’t remember eating any of them.

  When I saw the two bottles of Barolo, I winced. Two bottles. What would that be, twenty units? And I’d already had gin. I couldn’t remember how many of them I’d had. Quickly I took out my phone and found the bill for the hotel. They’d sent an automatic receipt once I’d paid my bill on that Saturday morning. I knew I’d put the bar drinks on my room tab. The receipt showed I’d had a double gin with tonic at seven fifteen P.M. and another at seven forty-five. I’d also had three bottles of water from the mini bar. At least I hadn’t drunk anything more when I got back to my room.

  I frowned.

  One thing I could remember was drinking a bottle of water when I woke up that morning. Red wine always makes me so thirsty. I’d taken another bottle downstairs with me and I’d drunk it by the time I got to the conference room. There’d been a table set out with hot and cold drinks and I’d picked up a couple of bottles then to last me the morning.

  Had I drunk another in the night? When I woke that morning, light was streaming through the gap in the curtains, so I could see everything quite clearly. I’d been desperate for water then. Surely I would have noticed a bottle of water on the bedside table?

  I remembered standing by the door holding my overnight bag as I left the room. There was a waste bin by the door and I remember throwing the glass bottle into it and flinching as it hit the metal. I’d looked into the bin, to see if it had smashed. There hadn’t been another bottle in there.

  But then I saw sense. My clothes from the night before had been strewn around the room and my handbag had tipped over. I’d probably had a bottle of water when I got in and left it on the floor.

  I switched my phone off and put it back in my bag and tucked the receipt back into the inside pocket. I was so glad I hadn’t drunk anything since that night. I didn’t want to ever get in a state like that again.

  ELEVEN

  Saturday, July 22

  CAITLIN STAYED OVER that night in the spare room, which had virtually become hers since Ben was away so often.

  When I woke automatically at seven o’clock, the house was dim and quiet. Joe lay beside me, his body heavy and unresponsive. I knew he’d lie there like that until I got up with Rory; I was well used to that. When I heard the familiar sound of Rory jumping out of bed and coming onto the landing, I sat up to call him into my room, then heard Caitlin say, “In here, sweetheart. Let’s give Mummy a rest, shall we?” and quickly lay back down again.

  I love that woman.

  Caitlin said, “Anyone for pancakes?” and the sound of Rory’s cheers rang through the house. I snuggled down next to Joe, who hadn’t woken at all, and tried not to think about the fact that he hadn’t had to wake; he’d known Caitlin or I would take care
of Rory. I had to grab whatever time I could with Rory.

  I forced myself to stop thinking like that. I knew that resentment corroded a marriage. I closed my eyes tight and made myself think happier thoughts, and the next thing I knew sunlight was streaming through the curtains and my bedside clock showed it was ten o’clock. I could hear Rory in the garden and the sound of Caitlin calling to him. Joe lay beside me, silent and still, as though he was determined not to be the first to get up. True to my suspicions, when he felt me get out of bed, he yawned and rolled over, stretching out across the bed.

  “I won’t be long,” he said, and gave me a lazy smile. “Unless you want to come back?”

  “Right,” I said. “Because ten o’clock isn’t late enough?”

  “Oh no, is that the time?” He got out of bed and stumbled into the en suite. “I’m meeting Mike for a run.”

  “Don’t forget I’m working later.”

  He nodded, though I don’t think he was taking much notice, and turned the shower on.

  I put my dressing gown on to go downstairs. Caitlin and Rory were in the garden, watering his little patch of vegetables. He was earnestly showing her the pots of herbs he was growing and she was admiring his work.

  She looked up and waved as she saw me. “Good sleep?”

  “You’re an angel,” I said. “Thank you so much.”

  Rory rushed over to me, planting a huge kiss on my cheek. “Sit down, Mum, we’re making you breakfast!”

  I didn’t need much persuasion. By the time Joe came downstairs I was sitting at the patio table, eating pancakes with strawberries, and drinking coffee and orange juice, all courtesy of Caitlin and Rory.

  “Look at you with your servants,” said Joe. He leaned over and kissed me. “You’re a lady of leisure.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m living the dream. You’ll be back by eleven thirty, won’t you?”

  He looked at his watch. “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to work! I said I’d be there before twelve.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered. “That only gives me an hour.”

  “It’s okay,” said Caitlin. “I can stay with Rory till you get back. I’m not doing anything.”

  I bit my lip, determined not to say a word. Caitlin was aware of this and Joe must have been, too, because he crashed around the kitchen, getting all his gear together, then gave a brief “I’m off, then,” before slamming the front door behind him.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “I’ve got to go to work—it’s not as though I’m just off enjoying myself.”

  “It’s because he’s always gone for a run with Mike on a Saturday morning,” said Caitlin tactfully. “It does him good. You know that.”

  “Well, I used to go shopping in town on a Saturday afternoon and have cocktails afterward,” I said. “And that did me good, too.”

  She grinned. “I remember. Those were great days.”

  “Things change when you have children. And he has plenty of free time when he could go running. Rory’s in nursery three afternoons a week.”

  “I suppose Mike’s not free then,” she said. “It’s different going on your own.”

  “I know,” I admitted. I did want to be fair to Joe. “And it’s what we agreed when we had Rory. Joe doesn’t know any other stay-at-home dads and he doesn’t feel part of the women’s groups. He needs to see his friends every now and then.”

  Caitlin nodded. “You do need to stick up for yourself a bit more, though,” she said. “We’ve talked about this, Gem. You need to be more assertive with Joe. You can do it at work; you need to make sure you do it at home, too.”

  This was something we’d talked about many times. She was right; I had no problem being assertive at work. I knew what had to be done and I did everything I could to make it happen. I felt in control of things there. But at home . . . I still found it hard to say what I wanted at times. And I knew why I struggled with it, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

  She moved her chair closer to me so that Rory couldn’t hear us. “It’s still working for you, isn’t it, having Joe at home with Rory? It’s much easier than if you had to rush to nursery to pick up Rory every night. Imagine that if you had a client you needed to talk to. If Joe was working in Liverpool or Manchester, the pressure to be there for Rory as well as be in the office would be horrendous.”

  I nodded. “I know, and it does work well. It’s just . . . I know it’s easier having Joe at home, but it’s tough at the moment. I’m working every day and any free time I spend with Rory, but it means I don’t have a minute for anything else.”

  “What about the evenings? Fancy doing something then? I could stay over. Or I could babysit and you could go out with Joe.”

  “I’d love to. It’s just I’m usually working till late. I don’t think I could cope with going out.” I laughed. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I had some spare time. I don’t seem to have any interests or hobbies. I can’t even remember the last time I finished a book.” I saw the worry on her face. “Sorry, Caitlin, I don’t mean to complain so much. I’m just tired.”

  The sun was high now, burning us. I was still in my dressing gown and it was eleven o’clock. Time to go and shower and get ready for the day.

  “You weren’t this tired before,” she said. “I know I haven’t seen you for a few weeks because I’ve been away, but you seemed okay before. Is everything all right?”

  I looked over at her, at her kind, concerned face. We’d been through so many things together and had always pulled through. She’d been there for me during my darkest time and until now I’d thought I could tell her anything.

  I desperately wanted to tell her about the weekend in London, at how drunk I’d been and how David had kissed me, but something stopped me. When I married Joe, Caitlin and I had become sisters-in-law, and though this had brought us nothing but happiness, I realized with a lurch that her loyalties would be with Joe, not me.

  That thought was too much to cope with just then. I jumped out of my seat and started to clear away the plates from the table. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.”

  “Leave this,” said Caitlin. “I’ll do it. You go on up and have a shower. I can keep an eye on Rory while I sort the kitchen out.”

  I kissed her cheek.

  “And me!” Rory shouted, and he ran down the garden path on his stocky little legs. “I want a kiss, too!”

  I hugged him to me, breathing in the smell of strawberries and grass and milk. I looked over to see Caitlin looking at me, a look of yearning on her face.

  “You’re so lucky, Gem,” she said. She came over to us and put her arms around us. “I’d give anything to have what you have.” When Rory wriggled away and went back to his tent on the lawn, she said, “I love you and Joe, you know. And Rory, too, of course. You’re my favorite people in the whole world.” She kissed my cheek and whispered, “I’m so glad you two got together.”

  I smiled and hugged her, the guilt of keeping secrets from her and from Joe nearly overwhelming me.

  TWELVE

  Thursday, July 27

  THE FOLLOWING WEEK was even busier at work. Sophie phoned in sick on Monday morning, and for a day or two I thought we’d manage without her, but after an eight P.M. finish on Tuesday night, I admitted defeat and called Lucy when I got home to ask whether she could help us out. Lucy used to work with us, but after her daughter, Maisie, was born four years ago, she decided to stay at home with her. We remained in touch and over the years Lucy stood in whenever I needed help. We agreed she’d work school hours for the rest of the week.

  On Thursday morning I was out with a newly retired couple, showing them properties a little farther out of town. We went from house to house and they loved them all. I knew instinctively that they wouldn’t be buying anything. They seemed to treat it as a bit of a day out, a chanc
e to have a look around people’s houses. They came back to the office to pick up a bunch of other details and went off for lunch, happily chatting about the houses they’d seen.

  “No luck?” asked Rachel.

  I shook my head. “Sightseers.”

  She grimaced. “Are they selling, too?”

  “They are, but not here. They’re from Nottingham and their son’s up here with his family. I get the feeling this is something they do now and again for a bit of fun.”

  “To torment their son, more like.”

  “Yes, they took the brochures home to show him and his wife. She’s probably threatening divorce right now.”

  We laughed.

  “Poor things,” said Lucy.

  I made some coffee and sat at my desk. I checked my e-mail, then pulled the tray of mail that had been delivered to the office toward me.

  “I’ve dealt with most of that,” called Rachel. “There’s something addressed to you personally, though. Obviously I didn’t open it.”

  I picked up a large white envelope. It had a typed label on it addressed to me, with Private written above my name. I ripped open the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper, about four inches by six. It was a photo, glossy and full color: a photo of David kissing me against the door to my hotel room.

  * * *

  * * *

  MY HAND JERKED and my mug of coffee went flying over the desk. I grabbed the photo and threw it into a drawer as Rachel and Lucy hurried over with paper towels.

  “Are you okay?” asked Rachel. “You didn’t burn yourself, did you?”

  “No. I’m fine.” I took the paper towels off her. “I’ll do this, thanks.”