by Emma Davies
‘You know something, Hugh, I’m not sure what you’re most upset about, the fact that you’re not Esme’s father, or the fact Sam is.’ I carry on before he has a chance to interrupt. ‘Today, yet again, I’ve tried to do what I believe is right. I’ve always thought that Esme should be allowed to know who her biological father is. Not because I expected her to go dashing after him, renouncing you in the process, but because I believed it was right that she should. But I’ve also always known how difficult this would be for you, the man who has loved and cared for her her whole life, and who is terrified of losing her. Except that in the end I had no choice but to tell Esme – when I learned about Theo this morning, I had to respond. However, I made it clear that she was born out of love, and has been raised in love, and she understands that very clearly; she knows how much you love her. So it’s a pity that you don’t seem to trust her enough to know that. I wanted to discuss this with you calmly and rationally, knowing how it would make you feel, wanting to make it as easy on you as possible because I love you too. But you know, Hugh, you’re making it almost impossible for me to do that.’ I look up at him sadly. ‘So I really don’t know what to do now.’
Hugh opens his mouth, but for once nothing comes out.
‘And yes, it does upset me that you called Sam a cripple. Because even after everything he’s been through, he is still a warm, witty and wonderful man. His body is damaged and he lives with the problems that causes every single day of his life, but he is far from being crippled. What hurts me the most, however, is that this was never a competition, Hugh. It was never about who I loved. At least it wasn’t until you made it one.
‘You’ve never been able to accept that I loved Sam and you did your very best to turn him into a monster, but what you’ve never understood is that I could love you both. I see Sam’s love reflected on the face of our daughter every single day. How could I possibly push him away when I love her so much? And I see your love, in the home we built together, in the pride I feel when I see Esme attaining her dreams. These last few weeks haven’t been about my choosing between you, Hugh, they’ve been about wanting you both in my life for very different reasons. You just couldn’t believe in me enough to let me. I wish I knew why you hate him so much.’
‘Because he never should have had you in the first place,’ he fires back. ‘You were supposed to fall for me, not him. I got you that job at Harringtons, flashed the cash around, took you out, looked after you at work. But you met him once and that was that. Lured by his history degree and love of bloody poetry. So what if he can recite all of Shakespeare’s sonnets? It doesn’t make him a better person.’
I stare at him, incredulous.
‘You were jealous of him? No, it’s worse, you still are… I don’t believe it, Hugh. For goodness’ sake, aren’t you forgetting that I did fall for you? We fell in love, we got married. We’ve been married for twenty-three years.’
He sticks out his chin. ‘I was always second best,’ he pouts. ‘Even after I made sure I came first. And what am I supposed to think? With him back on the scene and you behaving like someone I don’t even know, having coffee with that weird woman…’
‘Nancy’s not weird. It’s probably escaped your notice but she’s one of the few friends I’ve had over the years, one of the nicest friends I’ve had.’
‘You’ve had plenty of friends.’
‘I had people from work I went out with, Hugh, that’s not the same thing at all.’ I shake my head. ‘That’s beside the point anyway, it doesn’t change the fact that—’ I stop suddenly. ‘What do you mean, after I made sure…?’
Hugh’s eyes flick away. And something cold begins to stir at the base of my spine. ‘No, you damn well answer me this time, Hugh. Why did you say that?’
‘I don’t know, it wasn’t for any particular reason. It’s just one of those things… And I was second best. You always loved him more than me.’
‘I loved him, Hugh, that’s all. I was married to him. Like you might have loved other women before me. Different, and nothing to do with you and me. But then my marriage with Sam was over and you and I…’ I look at his face, the slightly turned away angle of his head, the eyes that won’t quite meet mine. ‘That isn’t just something you say…’ I can feel pressure building behind my eyes, an almost overwhelming desire to shake him, to finally know the truth of what’s been eating at me all this time. ‘What did you do? Tell me!’
Hugh holds my look for just a second but it’s enough for me to see the truth; the guilt… the triumph. I stand up, my chair scraping across the floor. ‘Dear God, tell me you didn’t cause Sam’s accident…’
A split-second pause, but it’s enough.
‘You should see the look on your face,’ says Hugh. ‘Don’t be so melodramatic. I told him a few home truths, that’s all. That he wasn’t good enough for you. That he didn’t come from the right background, and that he was never going to amount to much. I mean, working in a restaurant…’
‘You arrogant pig!’ I spit. ‘Can you not see the irony, when he’s done far better for himself than you ever have? And he’s done it in spite of everything else he’s had to contend with.’
‘You can mock me, Alys, but at the end of the day he obviously saw the sense of my words because look what he did – left you high and dry at the first sign of trouble. I guess he had plenty of time to think about things while he was in hospital.’
‘You bastard!’ And I’m not letting this go. ‘So just when exactly did you have this “conversation”, Hugh?’ My eyes are burning into his.
‘Okay! I’ll tell you. I was at the restaurant, on New Year’s Eve. I’d had too much to drink, all right? Laid it on a bit thick. But he had it coming, rubbing it in about how you and he were looking forward to the coming year, all the things you were going to do…’
‘Yes, and starting a family was one of them! Except little did I know I was already pregnant, only by a week… Our little Esme, a tiny bundle of cells…’ I hold his look. ‘And you robbed her of her father…’ He can see it in my eyes, I don’t even have to tell him.
‘No!’ shouts Hugh. ‘I forbid you. You are not going to tell Sam.’
‘I already have,’ I reply. And then I walk away.
23
The very next thing I do is move my night things into the spare room. I can’t bear the thought of Hugh even being in the same space as me, let alone the same bed. The idea that he might have been responsible for Sam’s accident, however indirectly, is filling my head. It was the one thing I could never fully understand about what happened – Sam was such a careful driver and yet something on the drive home that night had made him lose his concentration. And now I know exactly what it was: Hugh’s bitter and spite-filled words. The thought brings with it the images that had haunted me for so long afterwards: Sam’s car a mass of tangled metal, the sight of him in the hospital when I first saw him, on the edge of death, blood everywhere. And the look on his face when he had told me he didn’t want to see me again.
It’s all coming back to me, wave after wave of those awful memories, the things I’d been unable to get out of my head. It had made me sick when I thought about the terror that Sam must have felt, the pain, the awful screeching and crunching sounds the last he heard before flames licked at his skin, white-hot… Had I been the last thing he thought of before his injuries claimed him?
And then afterwards he had lain in the hospital, unable to see any future for himself, thinking about what Hugh had said, convincing himself, whatever he might have thought before the accident, that Hugh was right, he really was no good, and never would be. And so he had pushed me away. He had never given me the chance to fight for him, to show him that my love was big enough, that it could withstand whatever life would throw at us. And I will never forgive Hugh for that. He became my knight in shining armour and I let him, loved him for it. But it was a love built on deceit and jealousy. How could I have been so blind?
I sit on the edge of the bed, arms a
round my knees, literally trying to hold myself together as I let the tears come again. All the feelings I’d tried so hard to banish, to cut from my life, now as fresh as the day they were first created.
At some point Hugh must have come up to bed as the house is in darkness when I creep from the room hours later. There’s no light showing from under our bedroom door and I tiptoe down the stairs, like a stranger in my own home. I have no wish to talk to him, now, or at any point in the near future. And I have no idea what to do.
I’m surprised to see that it’s only just gone midnight as I enter the kitchen, the soft glow of a full moon shining through the window. I collect a glass of water, intending to take it back upstairs when I notice that Hugh has left the conservatory doors open. The air inside is still warm, silvery and calming and so, instead of locking the doors, I take my drink and make for my favourite chair.
‘Mum?’
The voice comes from behind me, soft and full of love. Esme is curled in the other chair, still in her chef’s whites, but hair loose from its bun, flowing over her shoulders. She gets to her feet.
‘Sweetheart… Are you okay?’
Her face glows in the dim light, tentatively smiling. ‘Are you?’ she whispers.
I hold out my hand. ‘I asked first,’ I say, pulling her towards the two-seater at the other end of the room. I wait until she’s settled before reaching out and tucking her hair back behind her ears. ‘It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?’ I say.
‘I didn’t answer your calls, Mum, or your messages. I’m sorry.’
‘I knew you were safe.’
‘I was too upset… not at you, just…’
‘Too much to take in. It’s okay, Esme, I understand. Do you know that over the years I’ve thought about the moment when I would tell you so many times, but in my head it was always different, nicer. Like it is in the movies – soft light, gentle music playing in the background – not like real life at all.’ I smile sadly. ‘But I’m sorry you had to find out the way you did. I wanted your dad to be there too, Hugh, I mean… but…’
‘It’s okay, Mum. I’m okay. Not really okay… but for the moment.’ She screws up her face. ‘Does that make sense?’
‘It does, it makes perfect sense. So you’re feeling a little better?’
She considers her reply for a few seconds. ‘I think what I’m feeling is less scared,’ she says. ‘I thought everything was going to change, but then I realised that it doesn’t necessarily mean that. Maybe in the future, when I want it to, if I want it to… Actually, Nancy helped me to see that.’ She gives a rueful smile. ‘After all, she knows Sam better than anyone. And she said that it didn’t mean that Dad doesn’t love me, or that Sam automatically does. He doesn’t even know me, not really.’
‘All these things are true,’ I reply. ‘And I’m glad that you’ve been able to talk to someone. I’m even more pleased that it was Nancy,’ I say. ‘She’s rather worried about you too.’
‘She said,’ answers Esme, nodding. ‘And I’m not going to hand my notice in, don’t worry.’ She pauses a moment. ‘Hang on, when did you speak to her?’
‘This afternoon. I went to look at a house with her actually. Or houses… Rather a surprise, but it made sense. And we had a good chat too.’
‘Ah… that would explain it,’ she replies. ‘Nancy didn’t say but I had a feeling she knew the whole story even before I told it to her. She seemed really cool with everything though.’
‘She was. I can’t believe how amazingly understanding she’s been about everything. Except that it seems she’s had some issues to deal with in her own life, so maybe she understands that things are not always straightforward.’
‘I think you’ve hit the nail on the head, Mum.’ She tucks her legs up underneath her, leaning into my side. ‘But what about you? How are you feeling? Have you spoken to Dad any more? Hugh, I mean…’
I wince. ‘Oh, this is so difficult. Just one of the myriad things we’re going to have to navigate. I don’t even know what to call him… but Hugh’s still your dad, and he always will be.’
‘I know.’ She squeezes my hand. ‘So let’s just call him Dad… Sam is… someone else.’
I nod, grateful for her response, in spite of how I’m feeling about Hugh. ‘Esme, I won’t lie to you, your dad has done and said some things that I need to have a good think about. They matter, you see. And I can’t just ignore them.’ I’m fighting so hard to keep my voice level, to stop my emotion from spilling over.
‘I know you two haven’t been good lately,’ she replies. ‘He’s said some nasty things.’ She lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at me closely. I know where the conversation’s going.
‘He did. He’d had too much to drink at the time, but all the beer did was amplify what’s been in his head anyway. And most of it seems to have been about Sam. Totally unfounded, of course, but still…’
‘Not nice?’
‘No. And the fact of the matter is that, irrespective of whatever happened in the past, I have met Sam again and that’s something that both he and I are going to have to deal with. Just as you are.’
Esme snuggles up against my shoulder. ‘I can’t help thinking that all this is my fault. None of it would have happened if I hadn’t gone to work for The Green Room.’
I grab her hand. ‘Esme, that’s not true. They might not have happened now… but all those events in your past still existed, you didn’t cause them.’
‘I kind of did.’
‘What, by being born? Oh, and you had some control over that, did you?’
She lifts her head and gives me a look that is pure Sam and I feel the tug of it deep inside.
‘Actually, I can’t think of a better time for you to find out. Yes, it’s been a shock for all of us, but much better finding out when you have people around you who can support you with it. Besides, I could have bumped into Sam at any time. I have a feeling the truth would have come out eventually, and I know it’s not a particularly popular view of the world, but I often wonder what role fate has to play in our lives.’
Esme plucks at a piece of fluff stuck to her trousers. ‘That’s the oddest thing,’ she says. ‘Remember how I told you that Nancy reminded me of you. I think it might even have been after my very first day with them; that she just felt as if she’d be like a second mum to me. And Theo…’ She gives a rueful sigh. ‘Now that I think about it I can see that our relationship has always been more like brother and sister… relaxed, you know, comfortable…’
‘Oh, Esme…’
‘No, it’s okay,’ she says, turning to me. ‘It honestly is. It’s much better this way. If I’d have fallen in love with him, we’d probably have broken up at some point and then what would I have done? It would have made it impossible to carry on working with him and, sorry, but I’m not going to give up doing what I’ve set my heart on just because of a man. No, I’m really glad we’re just very good friends.’
I close my eyes. Isn’t that exactly what I did? Gave up my career because of what Hugh wanted, mistook friendship and gratitude for love? And despite the situation I can’t help but smile. My Esme, still just making her way in the world but who manages to be far wiser than both her parents.
She looks at my expression. ‘God, Mum, just because you’re friends with someone of the opposite sex, it doesn’t mean you’re about to jump into bed with them.’
I do laugh then. ‘Oh, Esme… if only your father could hear you say that.’ But it’s an empty wish, I remind myself. It wouldn’t change anything.
She nods, her face full of sympathy. ‘Will you and Sam…’ She trails off, uncertain how to finish.
‘No, I don’t think we can see each other,’ I fill in for her. ‘It’s complicated. I really did love Sam, maybe I still love him, but we’re not together any more, Esme, we haven’t been for a very long time.’ And yet I can remember it as if it were yesterday. ‘And I’m with your dad now. I can’t just give up on twenty-three years of marriage at the fi
rst sign of trouble…’
I stop, Hugh’s words from the night before coming back to me. Wasn’t that just what he accused Sam of doing? Except that Sam didn’t give up, he was made to.
I try to brighten my expression. ‘Besides, there’s so many other people to think about. You and Theo, Nancy… You all have a relationship with Sam that it would be quite wrong to alter.’
Esme is quiet for a moment and I can only imagine the thoughts racing around her head. ‘So, what happens now?’ she asks.
I rub her arm. ‘That’s a difficult one,’ I say, slowly. ‘And I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers. All I do know is that between you and Sam, whatever comes next is up to you both. I’ve certainly made no promises and there’s no expectation either. No timescale. So you must take all the time you need to come to a decision that’s right for you, whatever that is.’ I slide my hand down her arm and entwine my fingers in hers.
‘And what about you, Mum?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Don’t you go worrying about me, I’ll be fine. And I’m not about to rush into anything. But, like you, any decisions I do make will be because they’re the right ones for me. Because—’
‘You matter too,’ she murmurs, squeezing my fingers back.
‘We all do,’ I reply. ‘Every single one of us. That’s what makes it so hard.’
24
It’s the morning of Nancy’s talk, and I don’t know who’s the more nervous, me or her. It must be her, surely? After all, she’s got to stand up in front of a whole crowd of people and deliver a speech to them. All I’m worried about is that her tuxedo will somehow fall apart, or that she’ll split her trousers. And of course the fact that Sam will be here.