*
It was late afternoon when the telephone woke her. She lumbered from the sofa and was delighted to hear Naomi’s breathless gabbling.
‘Nanny said we can have a sleepover and go and get eggs from the chickens in the morning for our breakfast. Can we, Mum? Can we?’
‘Let me think about it a second.’
She rubbed her face, trying to wake up, trying to think if there was anywhere they had to be or anything they had to do that might interfere with the grand plan. She opened her mouth to speak, but Naomi halted her flow with her words. ‘And Daddy said he will come and read to us before we go to sleep because he isn’t living with us any more and he can see us at Nanny’s, so can we, Mum? Pleeeease?’
It was as if she had been punched in the stomach. She leant against the wall. It was the first time since Phil had gone that she felt pure fury. Over the last couple of days she’d spent hours trying to figure out how much to tell the kids and when to do so, and yet he’d seen fit to tackle the topic while they were away from her and without her knowledge. She felt sick.
‘I guess so, Nay. And you know, there’s nothing to worry about. Everything will be fine.’ Her reassurance was met with silence. ‘I’ll pick you up in the morning. I love you.’
‘Love you, Mum!’ And she was gone.
Rosie wasted no time. With anger as her fuel, she slid the screen with her shaking finger. As she waited for him to answer, she tried to steady her pulse. He didn’t pick up. Immediately she pictured him in the Downton Abbey-style home of his lover, sipping champagne as they swam and laughed together, ignoring the phone that went straight to answerphone.
Rosie considered the prospect of being all alone until the morning; it filled her with a quiet dread. She made her way once again to the sofa, lay back down and closed her eyes. Half an hour later she came to, alerted by the sound of a key in the front door.
And just like that, he was back in their house.
She propped herself up, wishing she’d cleaned her teeth and that the house was tidier. Feeling awkward in front of him, the man who’d held her hand through their wedding, childbirth, minor surgery and loss, was a new sensation.
‘I knocked but...’ He gestured towards the hallway.
‘I must have dozed off.’ She shuffled around into a sitting position, wishing she had opened a window, freshened the place up a bit.
It had been less than seventy-two hours since they had seen each other, but it felt like a lifetime. He was changed. They were changed. The tiny fissures had already cleaved into chasms too great to be crossed and the frightening thing for Rosie was how quickly this had happened. Her tears came unbidden and she was angry at the display.
Phil sat down on the sofa. ‘Don’t cry,’ he said.
‘Don’t cry? Why does everyone say that to me, as if I have any choice? You think I want to cry? I don’t. But then there are lots of things I don’t want.’ She glared at him through her sobs. ‘I’ve done nothing but cry. You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? And how... how can you tell the girls that you don’t live here any more without talking to me first, without agreeing a plan? I can’t believe you did that! Is this what it’s going to be like?’ She sniffed.
He looked at the floor, taking in the mess, which seemed to offend him. ‘I didn’t mean to. They asked me some questions and I didn’t want to lie to them.’
‘Of course we don’t lie to them! But they are little girls and we do what we have always done: wrap things up to protect them, soften things. And I’m interested to know how you work out what it’s okay to lie about and what’s not?’
His eye roll that followed, as if what she’d said was illogical or unreasonable, made her shout.
‘I am their mum and I say how this is handled. Me! Do you understand?’ Her voice was shrill.
‘And I’m their dad.’
‘That’s right. You are. But you chose to abandon us. You’ve left – remember? Gone to live God knows where without the slightest clue about how you have smashed up our lives!’ She was shouting now, resisting the urge to throw herself at him and beg him once more to stay. ‘You make me sick.’
Phil stood up and in that second she realised that this would always be his default setting, to get up and go, because he could.
‘You can’t just walk in and out of here as you please; you lost that privilege when you packed your bags. Give me your key!’ she demanded with her palm outstretched. Her fingers flexed impatiently.
He reluctantly pulled the key from the key-ring and placed it in her hand. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Rosie.’
‘Well you should have thought about that before you left us.’
‘I didn’t leave them, I left you – there’s a difference!’ He raised his voice.
She was silent for a second as she stared at him and the words sunk in. Her sadness boiled over into anger.
‘Is that what you think? That you can pick and choose like that? Because you can’t! We are one family, one little unit and you chose to leave it! You are not welcome here and the girls will know it’s you that messed up, they won’t need me to tell them that, they’re not stupid and it doesn’t matter how much you try to get in there first with your skewed story. You have made this happen!’
Phil ran his palm over his face and took a deep breath. She noticed for the first time that he was wearing clothes that she had never seen before: jeans and a new pale blue T-shirt. Gifts, no doubt.
‘I know you don’t meant that,’ he whispered, ‘and I hate how upset you are. And if it’s any consolation, I’m upset too.’
She couldn’t help the involuntary giggle that left her mouth. ‘Is that right?’ She looked up at him from the sofa, again picturing him in that bloody swimming pool.
‘I didn’t plan this.’ He bit his bottom lip.
‘You didn’t plan it? That’s amazing! So how did it happen? Just a random series of events over which you had no control? You just found yourself packing your bags and buggering off? Someone planned it, Phil, and it sure as hell wasn’t me.’
He sighed. ‘I just meant to say that I haven’t been happy for a while, but I thought it was just how things were. I didn’t question it, until...’
‘Until you met her.’
He nodded.
‘Do you love her?’ She held his gaze, twisting her lower jaw to try and stem the next wave of tears. It was a difficult question for her to ask, but she had to know.
‘I... It’s early days, so...’ He raised his hands and let them fall to his sides.
She knew then that he did love the woman to whom he had run because no was the easiest answer to give.
‘I’m in shock, Phil. I’m gobsmacked. I trusted you and I believed in us. I never thought in a million years that we would be just like those couples we’ve talked about, the ones who stray, throw in the towel. You used to say it was cowardly, easy, and that the hard bit was staying. Well, I think you’re right, you are a coward.’
‘There is nothing I can say that you will want to hear, so I think it’s best if I don’t say anything.’ He sighed.
‘How convenient.’ She snorted. ‘I’d hate to make you feel uncomfortable in any way.’
‘All right, Rosie, you win.’ He changed his stance so that he now stood side on, with one foot twisted towards her and his open palm gesturing in her direction. ‘I haven’t been happy for the last couple of years and the fact that you haven’t noticed says it all, really.’
‘Well, I’m sorry for being so busy working my arse off for this family that I didn’t stop to double-check everything was okay with you. And talk about mixed signals – we were trying for a baby!’
‘No. No, we weren’t. You were trying for a baby. Jesus Christ, I kept saying we didn’t have the space or the money, but you were hell bent on driving ahead with that because it was what you wanted!’
‘So it’s my fault?’ she squeaked, hurt to know that the child she had longed for might have been unwanted by the man sh
e loved and, worse still, the catalyst for him leaving.
‘No, I’m not saying that. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve felt so hemmed in.’ He pulled his fingers together at the tips to form a collar around an imaginary neck, as if a visual aid was needed. ‘I just want more.’
‘Well, it seems like you’ve got more. Two swimming pools and what was it...?’ She tapped her mouth with her finger. ‘Oh yes, a gym, a sauna, a laundry room, like a bloody hotel! Sounds like you’ve got a whole lot more.’
There was a pause while Rosie swiped at her tears and her runny nose and he looked around the room.
‘Like I said, I don’t want to fight with you,’ he whispered. ‘I think anything we say right now is going to hurt.’
She hated his calm, rational tone. ‘You shouldn’t have told the girls! It’s you that’s left, not me, and you don’t get to control what happens next.’ She sniffed.
Phil raised his palms. ‘Okay. Look, I can’t talk to you when you’re upset like this, so I’m going to go. We just wanted to make it as easy as possible on everyone.’
He had used the word ‘we’ and the pain in her chest was so acute, it left her breathless. She struggled to get the words out. ‘Don’t you dare let her meet my kids! You can’t do that, Phil! Promise me! Not yet. No. Please don’t do that. It will confuse them and I need to explain and they’re not ready, they’re not...’ She sobbed.
She knew that it was her that wasn’t ready and she doubted she ever would be.
‘Okay.’ It was an agreement of sorts. He trod the Lego-strewn floor and closed the front door behind him.
Rosie replayed his visit over and over, thinking of all the things she wished she’d said. ‘I am stronger than you think, Phil!’ That would have made her feel better now. And there were more questions too: ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were so unhappy and at least give me the chance to put it right?’ She held his front-door key tightly in her scrunched-up palm, silently cursing herself for having asked him for it. Because if she had his key, that meant he wouldn’t be able to come home when he wanted to, wouldn’t be able to let himself in if he changed his mind. She wanted to leave him a note telling him that he would always be welcome. She pictured hiding it behind the wobbly brick at the back of the coal hole, as if he too would know it was there, as if he too could read her thoughts.
A picture of her dad loomed large in her mind; did he have similar questions for Laurel when she went? Laurel, who like Phil, kicked at the door of domesticity until it gave way, Laurel who felt similarly trapped and overwhelmed at the prospect of settling down to a predictable, family life? The letter had certainly stripped her mother of some of the saintly veneer with which she had painted all fantasies of her, yet still she yearned to be close to her, occasionally lighting an apple-scented candle to inhale the scent of her, giving her comfort in this small way.
*
It was quite a shock to drive to her in-laws’ house the following morning and feel none of the joy that she had always associated with the place. The happy bubble of anticipation was replaced by a nervous dread of what might await her. It wasn’t that she expected hostility or rejection, not from Mo or Keith; it was more the prospect of their pitying expressions, sensing their awkwardness, and the thought of having to face Kayleigh.
Pulling into the driveway of Highthorne, she was relieved to note that neither Phil nor Ross’s vans were there, nor the flashy Range Rover. She knocked on the door and listened to the thunder of feet as the girls ran the length of the hallway.
‘Mummy!’ Naomi answered the door and flung her arms around her mum’s waist. It was just what she needed.
‘I missed you,’ Rosie said.
‘It’s only been one sleep,’ Naomi replied.
‘I know.’ But it feels like a lot longer.
Mo called from the kitchen. ‘In here!’
Rosie took a deep breath and took a seat at the table, just like she always did.
‘Kettle’s on.’ Mo smiled brightly. ‘We’ve had great fun. They were up till goodness knows when, giggling and laughing.’
‘Daddy came and read us a story!’ Leona said.
‘Ooh, smashing! What story did you have?’ Rosie painted her smile wide.
‘We had two chapters of Awful Auntie and Daddy did her voice.’ She giggled.
Rosie caught Mo’s eye and the two women pursed their lips to suppress the words that threatened. Both were thinking of Kayleigh.
‘And Daddy said we can go and have tea with him next week and that if you don’t want us to go to his place then he’ll take us for egg and chips at The Beachcomber, but I’d rather go to Daddy’s house, Mum, so I can see where he sleeps.’ Naomi spoke quite matter-of-factly, without any of the upset or concern that Rosie had envisaged.
‘Goodness me, so much for your mum to process, little Miss Noisy! Why don’t you two go and watch a bit of telly, while Mummy and I have our drink.’
The girls ran out of the room and Mo made the coffee and took a seat opposite her daughter-in-law.
‘I’m very proud of you, Rosie.’
‘What for?’ she croaked. Her mask of jolliness had slipped now that the girls were out of the room.
‘For making this the best it can be for my grand-daughters.’
Rosie kept her eyes on the bone-china floral mug with the fine gold edging. ‘I can’t fully explain how I feel. It’s like my mind and my body aren’t joined together, like I’m floating.’
‘You’re in shock, love.’
She nodded. ‘Yes, probably. I thought maybe it was just a momentary blip, that he’d come back quickly, embarrassed and we’d have a row and then make up and figure out how we move forward, but it’s not, is it?’ She looked up at Mo and held her gaze, waiting for a rebuttal, but it didn’t come.
Mo’s tone was anguished. ‘Keith and I feel so helpless.’
‘Did you know?’ Rosie readied herself for the answer.
‘It’s been terrible. Keith found out a couple of weeks ago and just went silent on me. I didn’t know what on earth was up – I was worried it was his prostate again and he just wasn’t telling me. So we were both awake all hours but for very different reasons.’ She tapped the tabletop. ‘And then he told me the day before Phil told you. It’s awful, Rosie. We don’t know what to say for the best. I can’t say I agree with what he’s putting you through, but he’s also my son and I have to be there for him.’
‘I understand that.’
‘I don’t think you do, love. I feel like I’m grieving. I just want my family to be happy and safe and you are part of that family. And aside from what this is doing to you and the girls, I’m so sad for me and Keith, and I know that sounds selfish, but the older you get, the more important it is to pic-ture all those you love in the future. You just want to know that when it’s your time, you’ve left everything neat.’
‘You don’t have to think like that, Mo.’ Rosie thought of her own mum, who had never given the neatness of her life any consideration.
‘I can’t help it. I think about the upset, the upheaval and I feel like I can’t face it, so goodness only knows how you feel, Rosie.’ She paused. ‘All I can say is that you are young, and I know this feels like the end of the world...’
‘It does.’ Rosie started crying again, the feel of tears on her cheeks now so familiar.
Mo reached across the table and took her hand. ‘But it’s not. It’s not, love, I promise you. You will forge a different life.’
‘I don’t want a different life.’
‘I know, love.’ Mo patted her hand. ‘I know.’
‘And how can I let the girls go and have tea with the two of them next week? How can I do that so soon?’
‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, of course, but I suppose it’s new to you and to us but not to Phil. He’s probably been biding his time and we are just playing catch-up, aren’t we? He wants to show the girls where he’s staying, and that will probably help them settle, if they
can picture him in his new surroundings.’
Rosie withdrew her hand and nodded. Mo’s words reinforced the fact that she would always be treading a fine line between peacekeeper, confidante and Nana, but at the end of the day, first and foremost, she was Phil’s mum.
10
Three miserable weeks passed and Rosie returned to work. While Mel watched the girls, she scoured three caravans from top to bottom, ready for their new occupants, finishing each one with a spritz of room spray that smelt like fresh laundry. The hard physical toil was just what she needed. She took out her frustration on the limescale in the shower, scrubbing until her fingers ached, and she was happy to reshape the bench cushions by thumping them mercilessly. While her muscles ached and her hands were busy, there was less time for her to think. She tried to picture Naomi and Leona going to the house that their dad shared with a new woman. It was the hardest thing.
She walked up the steep hill to the clubhouse with her bucket in her hand, noticing that her jeans had slipped down onto her hips. She hoicked them up and reminded herself to find a belt. Tightening the thick knot of hair that sat messily on top of her head and tucking the stray tendrils behind her ears, she knocked on the office door. Her stomach sank when she saw that Doug was alone. She’d been hoping that Susan, his assistant, might be there too.
Doug Hanlon was a lush; he also happened to be her boss. He was unpredictable, often too sloshed to keep order, and Rosie had seen him snake many a tenner from the bar into his grimy trouser pocket instead of the till. Every night, he greeted the regulars as if they were old friends that had popped by specially to see him.
There were some caravan parks in the locality with kids’ clubs, sporting facilities and family entertainment, but this was not one of them. It would have been too costly to lay anything on for the twelve caravans and the smattering of campers who drifted in. The best a family could hope for was a quick spin on the laminate-floored dance area beside the sticky-topped bar, where a few twinkly lights hung in front of a black cloth. Parents could wait for their dancing divas on a sunken sofa behind some iron railings that had been left over from the patio extension. Middle-aged women sat quite contentedly, swaying to ‘Careless Whisper’ and lamenting the days when they would have been the ones dancing. Rosie had seen them close their eyes in dreamy recollection as they sipped large glasses of wine that came in a box, while their men downed pints and scoffed curry and chips as if their lives depended on it.
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