His hand circled her body and delved under the waistband of her jeans, toying with the lace of her knickers, his fingers exploring. She breathed out, hoping he wouldn’t mistake it for consent. He didn’t. With a final pinch, and without having uttered a word, he extricated himself and hit her behind the knees. She buckled but didn’t fall. He left her with her hand still holding the spoon above the saucepan. Straining her ears, she heard him enter his study and shut the door. Slowly she sank to the floor.
Wiping away her tears, a resolution formed in the depths of her soul.
This could not go on.
Twins or no twins, Cian had to go. If he didn’t, she would. Eventually.
But first she would find out what was so precious to her husband that he kept it locked away in his study.
Fifty-Nine
Lottie pushed down an urge to turn at her front door and walk straight back out again. It was like living with three adults who insisted on acting like two-year-olds. They crowded out her four-bedroomed semi-detached house and overwhelmed her with tasks after work each evening. But she loved them. And she needed them more than they would ever know. They kept her grounded in brightness and helped keep the darkness of her job outside her front door.
This evening, though, she needed a drink. No, she thought. Not yet.
Hauling the bag of groceries onto the counter, she began putting the supplies in the cupboards. It looked like her mother hadn’t been in today. The kitchen was a mess. Working, trying to manage the house, watching the children… it was too much. Leaning her head against the cupboard door, she banged a tin of beans down on the counter without hearing the noise she was making. And banged it again.
‘Mam!’ Katie ran in. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You woke up Louis. I’ll have to rock him for another hour to get him asleep again.’
‘I told you not to get into the habit of rocking him.’
‘I’m so tired… Anything that gets him to sleep is fine by me.’
Lottie shoved a jar of curry sauce and two packets of soup into the cupboard. There were three soups in there already. She automatically checked the use-by dates. Two years out of date. What the hell?
‘Are you listening to me, Mam?’
Lottie turned round. Her eyes glazed over, and without knowing what she was doing, she flung the packets to the floor.
‘Jesus, Mam. Stop. What’s wrong with you?’
Lottie squinted over at her daughter. ‘Katie?’
‘I’m getting Chloe.’ Katie flew out of the kitchen.
A black shadow crept across Lottie’s vision. She clutched for the counter top but her legs slipped out from under her and she slid to the ground. Tipping back her head, she gulped for air. Couldn’t catch her breath.
‘Katie…’
Breathe, she warned herself. Breathe. She was no use to her kids dead. Unable to catch hold of a breath, she saw black stars swim in front of her eyes. Then darkness.
* * *
When she opened her eyes, for a moment she didn’t know where she was. She pulled her legs underneath her and knelt up. At last she could draw breath. Her hands. What was on her hands? She looked around. The floor was covered in powder. The soup packets had burst open. It was splattered everywhere. Had she done that? Of course she had. Mad, mad woman!
In that moment, she didn’t care how many resolutions she had made; she needed a drink.
Katie rushed in, Louis in her arms.
‘Mam, there’s something wrong with you. Are you drunk?’
‘No, I’m just exhausted.’
‘I can’t stand living here. Do you know that? I’m going to have to leave. I don’t care what you say. I have to get out of this house.’
‘Don’t be stupid. Where can you go? You’ve no money. And it’s raining.’ Lottie wondered who was talking. Surely it wasn’t her?
‘My son has a grandad.’
‘What? Tom Rickard? Don’t be daft, Katie.’
‘Mam, we need to talk.’ Katie sat herself at the table.
Lottie dragged herself over and sat down. ‘Tom Rickard doesn’t know about Louis.’
‘I traced him. Emailed him. And he wants to see his grandson. You can’t cope with us all here, so in a few weeks I’m going to take Louis to visit him.’
‘After all I’ve done for you and little Louis! I’ve been so worried about you. You can’t just up and leave.’
‘It will only be for a holiday. Nothing’s finalised. I just sent a few emails.’
‘Louis is too young.’
‘No he’s not. I’ve applied for his passport.
‘You can’t do that.’
‘I can. I did. Mam, we need a break from each other. I need a few weeks away. You need the space too.’
Lottie felt her mouth opening and closing. No words came out. Only a few minutes ago she’d been half wishing them out of the house, and now she didn’t know what was going on. Be careful what you wish for. Sure.
Sixty
Boyd was standing on the doorstep.
‘Are you going to invite me in, or what?’
‘Or what,’ Lottie said, opening the door wider.
‘Is it raining in there?’
‘I’ve just got out of the shower. Come in.’
He shoved a brown bag containing a plastic bottle into her hand, shuffled out of his jacket and made for the kitchen. ‘Something smells good.’
‘You’re an awful liar. Dinner is well over. Unless you’d like some Pot Noodles.’
‘I’d rather be shot than poisoned any day,’ he said, sitting at the table.
‘Make yourself comfortable.’ Lottie inspected the bottle. ‘Diet Coke? No wine in Tesco?’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’
‘You’re in some mood tonight.’
‘Pot and kettle.’
‘Why are you here?’
‘I… Lottie, give me a break. I just came round to see if you’re doing okay. After today, you know…’
‘I’m fine.’ She chewed the inside of her lip, not liking where the conversation was headed.
‘That’s not what Katie… Shit!’
Bottle of Coke in one hand, a glass in the other, Lottie stared open-mouthed at him. She hadn’t expected that. ‘What are you saying? Come on, Boyd. Out with it.’
‘It’s nothing. Katie rang me. Said you were having a meltdown and would I come have a chat with you.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ She handed him the glass. ‘You should have brought wine.’
‘Thanks.’ He twisted it around in his hand.
She poured a glass for herself. Her phone rang. She glanced at it. Saw the caller ID.
‘Are you not answering it?’ he asked.
‘It’s only Annabelle. She can leave a message. I suppose Katie contacted her too. She’s probably checking up that I didn’t take an overdose.’
‘Don’t be so disparaging. People care about you. Sometimes you reach a stage where you have to admit you need help, and when it’s offered, you should take it.’
‘So it’s Dr Phil sitting at my table, not my friend Boyd.’
‘I am your friend. Don’t you get it, Lottie? You had a bitch of a day today, a horrible week, and you need to talk about it. No use burying your head in the sand.’
They sipped their drinks to the sound of Louis whimpering and Katie soothing him in the other room, and the rain bashing against the windows.
‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. No one can understand,’ Lottie said.
‘Try me.’
She kept her eyes downcast, swirling the Coke in the glass.
‘I’m drowning, Boyd. That’s what it feels like. I have this feeling inside, just here.’ She drummed her chest with her fist. ‘It’s consuming me. I feel so selfish. I can’t love anyone. Not even my children. Do you know why?’
‘Tell me.’ His face was etched with concern; his eyes swimming with unspoken words.
‘I’m afraid,’ she said, lowering her eyes from his gaze. ‘If I love, I will lose. And I can’t lose them. Not my children. Oh God, if anything happened to them, to any one of them or to little Louis, I’d throw myself into Lough Cullion. Can you understand that?’
‘I understand that you love your children and Louis. You love them so much you’re afraid to reveal it. You think that if you show how much you care, you’ll get hurt or you’ll hurt them. This is life, Lottie. We all get hurt. But we are the grown-ups. We can handle it. Right? You loved Adam, then he died. And that is your only problem. You don’t know how to cope with the guilt.’
‘Guilt?’