‘Always.’ Nick felt his grin almost split his face in two as he opened the box and pulled out the handset. ‘They’ve only just come out though. How did you manage to get one?’
Richard tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’ve contacts. I can sort anything out. It’s not what you know—’
‘It’s amazing!’
‘It’s nothing.’ Richard shrugged.
But it was something. To Nick. ‘I owe you one.’
‘Oh, you do,’ said Richard. ‘I won’t forget.’
Walking home after work Nick passed the pawn shop and a thought struck him. He didn’t need two phones. He could sell one and buy his mum something nice without it affecting their savings. Some flowers, perhaps, or chocolates?
The bell trilled as he pushed open the door. The smell of coffee rushed towards him. The man behind the counter, comedy moustache, eyed Nick suspiciously.
‘If it’s nicked, I’m not interested.’
‘No. It was a present. Honest.’ Nick put his rucksack on the counter and unzipped his bag. He rummaged through his Tesco uniform until his hand connected with the chunky Nokia. As Nick began to pull it out of his bag, he remembered the radiance on Mum’s face as she’d watched him unwrap it that morning, her hands raw and red from cleaning, as she served up the breakfast she couldn’t afford to eat herself. Nick dropped the handset as though it had suddenly burned him. Instead, he pulled out the iPhone Richard had given him and tried to ignore the heavy feeling in his heart as he saw the man’s eyes light up, and although he only offered Nick a fraction of what he knew it must have cost, he stuffed the notes into his pocket anyway.
The shouting was audible before Nick had even unlocked the front door.
‘You spent the housekeeping on a fucking phone?’
He hesitated, as though his dad’s anger was pushing him back. He stood on the front doormat, clutching the baby pink carnations he’d bought. Tucked inside his bag was a box of Terry’s All Gold. There was still some cash left he’d give his mum.
‘It’s his birthday. Did you even remember? He deserves something nice.’
‘’Course I remembered. I’m not fucking stupid. Unlike him. Leaving school without any bloody qualifications.’ The kind voice his dad had used when his mum was ill was just a distant memory. He seemed even angrier now she was better than before she got sick. Mum said it was because he’d been so scared she’d die, but that didn’t make sense to Nick at all.
‘He’s not the stupid one,’ Mum screamed.
The sound of the slap reverberated through the house. Nick dropped his bag and the flowers and flew through to the kitchen.
‘Mum?’
Mum stood, back to him, hands on sink, leaning over the bowl as though she might be sick.
‘It’s all right, love. You go upstairs.’
‘No.’ Nick’s voice wobbled but he was a man now. He worked full-time, and the days of hiding under his covers, hands pressed over his ears, were over. Never again would he pretend to believe the stories Mum had walked into a cupboard or slipped getting out of the bath. Besides he had one advantage over his dad now. He was taller. Fitter. Faster. He shouldn’t be scared, but Nick felt his knees begin to shake as his dad took a step towards him, hand raised.
His mum cried: ‘Leave him alone’, and spun around, and Nick saw her swollen lip, the blood trickling down her chin.
He knew he had a fraction of a second to decide what to do. To walk away or hit back. There was a buzzing in his ears and his blood felt as though it was on fire as it crackled and steamed through his veins. His dad’s hand connected with his cheek, causing his teeth to slam together, and Nick felt an invisible force pull his fist back and pound it into his dad’s face again and again. His vision tunnelled. He was surrounded by blackness but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. In the background, his mum screamed, bone crunched, and Nick grunted with each and every punch. The anger he felt over every past hurt his father had caused teemed with the anger he felt now. It wasn’t until his dad fell limp and loose, Nick released his grip on the front of his dad’s shirt, and Kevin, for Nick swore then and there he would never call him dad again, crumpled to the floor. Gradually the thrumming in his ears subsided, the black dots in front of his eyes faded away, and as Nick stared with horror at the bruised and bloodied face lying before him, he knew he’d gone too far.
25
Now
What does Nick have to tell me? I search his face for clues as I second-guess what he might have to say.
‘You look like someone has died.’ It is me who breaks the silence.
Nick threads his fingers through mine. I feel a jolt of electricity and try to pull back but I see the utter desolation in his eyes. I will myself not to cry as I relax my hand into his and wait.
Seconds blur into minutes and still he doesn’t speak.
‘Is there someone else?’ I ask.
‘What? God, no. How could you think that?’
‘You weren’t here last night. You lied to me. You’ve been distant for weeks since—’ My throat is constricted with emotion. My voice quieter. ‘Since Natasha’s text.’
‘Kat—’
‘And I heard you,’ I cut in, ‘talking to Richard on New Year’s Day. He said something about getting found out and you said: ‘it’s too late’.
‘I did say that.’ Nick nods. ‘And now we have. Been found out.’
‘I don’t understand?’
‘There’s a problem.’ His voice sounds controlled but it is only because I know him so well I can detect a slight tremor. ‘With work. But it’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Work?’ I hiss out air in relief but his expression tells me this is more serious than he is letting on, and that despite his reassurances, I should worry.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘We didn’t get planning permission for a renovation on a listed building. It wasn’t intentional but it slipped by Richard and, by the time he realised, we had already started and stupidly decided to carry on rather than come clean. It’s a stately home and a huge site. Potentially we could lose a lot of money, not to mention our reputation, but it’s in hand.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Marriage is about sharing and I am hurt he has kept this to himself but I don’t want to make it about us. About our relationship. He looks so miserable.
‘You’ve had enough to deal with – the babies, moving house – I was hoping I could get it sorted without you finding out about it. I know how much you stress.’ That bit, at least, is true.
‘But still…’
‘I know. You’re stronger than you look.’
‘So, is it? Sorted?’
‘Not yet. I drove down to the site yesterday, and the meeting went on so long I stayed overnight. I’ll probably have to go back at least once more.’
‘Can I do anything to help?’ I know I probably can’t but I feel helpless seeing him so deflated.
‘You can make me a cup of tea.’ He drops a kiss on top of my head. ‘I’m going to shower.’
‘And that’s really it?’ I can’t help asking just as he’s leaving the room. ‘There’s nothing going on with Natasha.’
Nick turns. His eyes seek out mine. ‘Please don’t worry about her.’
‘It’s been hard not to in the last 24 hours.’
Nick pulls his mobile from his pocket and scrolls through his contacts. When he reaches Natasha’s name he presses delete and scans my face for a reaction.
‘I can promise you, Natasha and I having an affair is something you will never have to worry about.’ He doesn’t blink, or look away, and I do believe him but I still feel uneasy. I just don’t know why.