The Scent of You

by Maggie Alderson

  ‘They will also go out of their way to avoid triggers for the thoughts they have,’ Maxine was saying. ‘Subjects who are tormented by thoughts of sexually abusing or hurting children . . .’

  She saw Polly’s horrified face and stopped.

  ‘It doesn’t mean they want to do it, or they will do it, Polly – in fact, it’s been shown that people with OCD intrusive thoughts are actually the least likely to act on them – but they will go out of their way to avoid situations that trigger the thoughts. They won’t go to parks, or to a family event where there will be young children. Some sufferers seek relief by finding other things to obsess over, such as overworking, over-exercising, over-hobbying. Collecting things, building stuff. One method I’ve heard of is playing music all the time.’

  Polly’s mouth fell open.

  ‘David does that,’ she said. ‘He had this really expensive system put in that plays music through the whole house. I used to love it, I thought it was his charming little eccentricity, and it’s one of the things that’s been weird about his absence, not having music playing all day long. And it turns out it was really because . . .’

  Suddenly she found herself feeling quite faint.

  ‘Are you all right, Polly?’ asked Maxine, leaning forward and putting her hand gently on Polly’s arm.

  ‘I think I will have that cup of tea, after all,’ she said.

  She needed a moment alone to sit with it all more than anything. Her brain had gone into overdrive – doing a mental inventory of their entire relationship, looking for signs, symptoms and causes – and it was freaking her out how many of them there were.

  His recent lack of interest in going to friends’ parties, or hosting them. The only parties he’d been to for months were the ones that were really essential for work.

  And then she remembered something else that had changed in the previous couple of years. He hadn’t wanted to go on beach holidays any more. He’d insisted they went walking in Romania, or on a cultural visit to Berlin. Polly had been mystified when it first happened; now, she feared it pointed to one thing: his intrusive thoughts were about children.

  Parties with family friends and beach holidays were full of kids. And not wanting to go and see his own sister when she had young children. That made sense now. She felt sick.

  Then there was the park thing. Maxine had specifically mentioned that avoiding parks was one of the measures taken by sufferers with intrusive inappropriate thoughts about children. David didn’t ever take Digger to the nearby park. It was Hampstead Heath or a street walk.

  He’d made some waffly excuse when she’d asked him about it, saying it was either a proper walk off the lead, or a perfunctory one on it, and that anything in between was insulting to Digger. She’d thought it was a load of nonsense at the time, but now it turned out to be something much worse.

  Maxine came back with the tea and Polly knew she had to come out and ask her.

  ‘Are David’s intrusive thoughts about children?’ she said.

  Maxine paused, then nodded.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ she said. ‘As I said, he would never act on them, but the more anxious he gets about having such unwelcome thoughts, the more of them he has – it’s a very cruel condition.’

  ‘So he’s been living in a hell like this for years,’ said Polly, thinking out loud. ‘Unable to stop obsessing about doing something he finds totally abhorrent . . .’

  Maxine nodded, but said nothing.

  ‘And he was so ashamed he couldn’t tell me . . . and he left us to go and live in that flat on his own to try to get on top of it, because he hates himself so much he doesn’t think he deserves us. Is that it?’

  She paused for a moment, before continuing.

  ‘So he didn’t leave because he’s bored with me and there’s “no glue between us” now the kids have left home – which is what he told our best friends last week. He left because he loves us too much and thinks he’s not worthy.’

  ‘That’s pretty much it,’ said Maxine. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Poor David,’ said Polly, shaking her head slowly, her eyes filling with tears again. ‘Poor, poor David. My poor husband.’

  Polly walked out of Maxine’s office in a daze. She finally knew what was behind David’s mysterious disappearance and it was so far outside her experience she still didn’t quite know what to do with the information. She’d never heard of intrusive thoughts as a medical condition before. Obviously she knew what OCD was, but she’d had no idea it could manifest itself in this form. It was so hard to take in.

  But there was one thing she did understand: she could no longer allow herself to feel angry with David for leaving. How could she? Through no fault of his own, he suffered from a really horrible debilitating illness that affected his whole life in an appalling way.

  Polly tried to imagine what it might be like to see an adorable little child playing in the park and immediately have thoughts that you wanted to hurt them, or molest them, to the point where you were terrified you were actually going to do it. Even though you knew you didn’t want to . . .

  She shuddered even thinking about it, and as she pushed the horrible thought out of her head, she had an insight into what it would be like not to be able to do that. You’d be living in a torture chamber of your own mind – with no escape. How appalling.

  OK, his way of dealing with it had been hard on her and the kids, but she could see why, faced with what he had to live with, he would have made bad choices. You wouldn’t be angry with someone for getting cancer, or multiple sclerosis, she told herself. You’d make allowances for anyone in that situation, you’d expect them to behave differently – so why was this any different just because the illness was in his mind, rather than in his body?

  Polly stopped on a half landing on the stairs leading down from Maxine’s office and looked out of a side window.

  A cherry tree was coming into bloom, shooting out a froth of sugar-pink blossoms. She could see from its size and the gnarled branches that it was a mature tree, yet still capable of putting on such a wonderful show.

  A new beginning every spring, even from an old tree. That was what she was going to have to do. Find a way to bring their gnarled old marriage into blossom again.

  David was her children’s father and he deserved to be supported through this crisis. Her life had been cruelly affected by his illness – just as it would have been if he’d developed a serious physical condition – but that didn’t give her the right to go and do whatever she liked, just because it was nicer for her.

  Even as she thought that, an image of Chum leading Sorrel out of the stable came into her head. Chum’s long legs climbing out of his stinky Land Rover. Chum opening the champagne in Hanley Hall. Chum laughing. The way Chum looked at her just before he lowered his head to kiss her.

  Polly screwed up her eyes and pushed it all away. Unlike poor David, she could do that. She could stop herself thinking about inappropriate things she’d like to do and the ones she’d already done.

  She could stop herself from thinking about them – and she could stop herself from doing them. David was her husband, he was a very sick man and what he needed was not reproach and rejection, but acceptance and support. And love. Unconditional love. For better or for worse, she reminded herself. In sickness and in health.

  Sitting down on the stairs, she pulled her phone out of her bag and sent Maxine an email. She wanted to get on with it immediately, while what she had to do next was all clear and fresh in her head.

  Dear Maxine,

  Thank you for putting me out of my misery. I’m deeply shocked about David’s condition, I had no idea that people suffered like that, but it’s so much better to know why he’s behaved the way he has. He’s not cruel and uncaring – he’s ill.

  Now I know what the problem is I have to support him the best way I can, which is to bring him home to be looked after by the people who know him best and love him most. I’m absolutely certain the children will feel the s
ame way.

  So please can you ask him to agree to see me as soon as possible? I need to talk to him, to tell him I don’t blame him or hold his actions – or his illness – against him. I just want to help him get better. I’m happy to see him with you, or on his own, whatever suits him.

  One other thing – please come back to yoga! It’s not the same without you.

  Polly xxxxxxx

  She tapped ‘Send’ and stood up, feeling much better. She had a plan now and a new sense of purpose. The first thing to do was to get home and call the kids, to tell them what she knew and to arrange for them to come home to see their father.

  She rushed towards the door, then as she stepped out of the building she noticed a tall figure stand up from a bench across the road. She thought no more of it, and had turned to head back to her car when she heard someone call her name.

  Her head snapped round and she saw Chum running across the street towards her, dodging the traffic.

  He made it to the kerb just before a bus went past and put his arms round her, pulling her close.

  ‘Hippolyta, my beauty,’ he said. ‘Are you OK?’

  Polly looked at him stupidly and said nothing. It was so strange to see him unexpectedly in this context that she almost couldn’t place him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, realising as it came out that it sounded a lot brisker than she’d intended.

  He dropped his arms and stepped back, clearly sensing her discomfort.

  ‘I just came to make sure you’re all right,’ he said. ‘After seeing Maxine . . .’

  ‘But how did you know?’ she asked, still nonplussed. She’d told him when the appointment was, but not where it was.

  ‘You texted me about the appointment,’ he said, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ said Polly, ‘but . . .’

  ‘Why don’t we go and get some coffee?’ he said. ‘You can tell me what happened. I’m sure you know all the good places round here. Where shall we go?’

  Polly didn’t want to go for coffee – not in Belsize Park, not anywhere. She wanted to go home and ring her children and make a plan together about how they were going to help their father.

  Yet Chum had come all this way; she couldn’t just walk off.

  ‘OK,’ she said, and led the way to the nearest café.

  Chum ordered a latte and a sickly-looking cinnamon whirl, while Polly asked for hot water. She couldn’t stomach a milky coffee, she still felt too churned up from the meeting with Maxine.

  ‘Are you sure this is all you want?’ he asked, putting the tray on the table in front of her.

  Polly nodded, as he slid into the chair opposite.

  ‘So how did it go?’ he asked, taking a big bite out of his sugary pastry.

  Polly still couldn’t speak. She remembered Chum had said he’d be there for her, if she needed support after seeing Maxine, but she hadn’t expected him to show up and sit around eating cake, like they were having a jolly catch-up.

  ‘How did you find out where I’d be?’ she said finally, still in too much shock to bother with social pleasantries.

  ‘I rang Shirlee and asked her,’ said Chum, licking his lips and pushing in a stray crumb with his finger.

  ‘Shirlee?’ said Polly. ‘How did you get her number?’

  ‘When we all had lunch at Easter, she gave it to me.’

  Polly’s eyebrows shot up.

  Chum laughed. ‘She wasn’t hitting on me – that’s what she said as she did it – “I’m not hitting on you, Fauntleroy.” God, she’s funny isn’t she? She said she wanted me to have her number in case there was ever a problem between us, and she could “oil the wheels”. Those were her words, and I was very glad to have her number today because I wanted to be here to support you, after the meeting. So what did Maxine tell you?’

  Polly thought for a moment, taking a sip of her hot water. Maybe she should have had that coffee; she needed an energy kick to take all this new information on board. Her brain was already struggling to process what Maxine had told her. She really didn’t need this complication.

  She knew Shirlee was an interfering busybody and mostly she found it funny – and very helpful with regard to running the yoga classes for her – but offering to act as a go-between for her and Chum was way too much.

  And something else was bothering her.

  ‘Did Shirlee know I was seeing Maxine today about David?’ said Polly. ‘I haven’t told her anything about it. Only you and my friend Lori. I haven’t even told my kids yet.’

  Chum looked blank.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that, Hipp,’ he said. ‘I just rang Shirlee and asked if by any chance she knew where you were seeing this person Maxine today, and she knew right off where that would be. Maxine’s a friend of hers, she said.’

  Polly felt a crackle of irritation run through her. Did she have no privacy? Was everyone in her life happily discussing all the developments in the Polly soap opera behind her back?

  ‘Anyway,’ said Chum, reaching over to take Polly’s hand, ‘I’m sure she’ll explain, and none of that’s important really, is it? I just wanted to be here to support you, so you wouldn’t feel alone at such a difficult time. Shirlee offered to come along as well, actually, but I asked her not to. So tell me, what did Maxine say? Do you know what’s going on with your husband now?’

  Hearing Chum say the words ‘your husband’ seemed to have some kind of electric effect on Polly. Her husband indeed. Her husband of twenty-four years’ standing, currently going through a desperately difficult time of a devastatingly private nature, which Polly had no intention of discussing with someone who didn’t know him. Even someone she’d done a lot of snogging with like some kind of superannuated oversexed teenager.

  The irritation was followed by a wave of shame. While David had been imprisoned in the torment of his own head, she’d been carrying on like a floozy, like he’d ceased to exist.

  She felt disgusted with herself. Her marriage had been tested – and she’d failed. Horribly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Chum,’ she said, gently pulling her hand away from his. ‘It was incredibly kind of you to come here today, I really do appreciate it, but it’s not something I feel able to talk about yet. I’ve got an awful lot to process after that meeting with Maxine and I need to go home now and just sit with it all for a while. On my own. I hope you can understand.’

  She was about to add that she’d left Digger on his own there and she needed to get back to him, but stopped herself just in time. Thinking of Digger made her remember the day she’d first seen Chum again, and then of all the happy times their two dogs had spent together, and she just couldn’t allow herself to go there.

  She stood up and collected her things.

  ‘Bye, Chum,’ she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek and walking out of the café quickly.

  She didn’t look back. She felt mean leaving him like that, with his childish pastry and milky coffee, but she had to get away. It was very sweet of him to come and wait for her and offer his support, but there was something else that nagged at her.

  It felt a lot like pressure.

  Polly’s phone pinged to let her know she had a message before she’d even got to her car. She fished it out of her bag, strongly hoping it wasn’t from Chum. On top of how she was feeling about David, she really didn’t need any more guilt.

  But it wasn’t from Chum, it was from Shirlee. Wanting to know how the meeting with Maxine had gone. And was she still with Chum or could Shirlee come over to the house to hear all about it? Or maybe she could come over even if Polly still was with Chum and they could all ‘talk it through’ together.

  Polly was so furious she had to restrain herself from throwing her phone into the skip she was walking past.

  This was intrusive even by Shirlee’s standards. Polly deleted the message, hoping Shirlee wouldn’t just turn up at the house and let herself in. Polly would have to deadlock the door from
the inside and leave the key in it, but then Shirlee would only shout through the letterbox.

  The phone pinged three more times before Polly got back to the house. She pulled up outside and read the messages sitting in the car.

  There was another one from Shirlee asking if she’d got the first one and saying she was going to come right over, because she’d just rung Chum and he’d told her Polly was on her way home. Polly deleted it in a white-hot fury.

  The other two were from Lucas and Clemmie, both saying something along the lines of just hearing that Shirlee hadn’t been able to get hold of Polly since the meeting with Maxine and wanting to check she was OK, as well being desperate to know what Maxine had told her about their dad . . .

  That was it. Shirlee had officially gone too far. She had no right to speak to Polly’s children about the meeting with Maxine before Polly had been able to talk to them herself. Polly hadn’t even talked to Shirlee about the Maxine connection – had Maxine told her? Or had she just put it together after Chum’s indiscreet phone call?

  And Shirlee had no business contacting Chum either. Even if she wasn’t hitting on him, that was a no-go area. You didn’t go around giving your phone number to other people’s – Polly’s thoughts stopped dead. Other people’s what? Boyfriends?

  She slumped forward, resting her forehead on the steering wheel.

  Oh, what kind of a mess had she got herself into? In a state of extreme confusion and vulnerability, she’d let a psychotically pushy and interfering person into the very heart of her life, and been recklessly indiscreet with another man, who was already pretty damaged himself, which made her feel even worse about everything.

  In her vulnerable state after David had left, she’d been swept away on a wave of nostalgia and the Yah glamour that still adhered to Chum. Anyone would have been seduced by a champagne picnic in a private stately home, she told herself, but still she should have known better. Especially with a man as handsome and charming as him.