‘Amy. I knew something was going on.’
‘How?’ Who would have told him?
He half laughs. ‘Because I know you.’
Carefully I choose my words. ‘I met a man. I got a crush. But nothing happened.’
‘The man you’re seeing now?’
I bow my head. ‘Yes.’ Hotly I add, ‘But I’d never have slept with him if you hadn’t run away.’
And maybe he’d never have run away if I hadn’t …
Defensively, I demand, ‘So, are you saying this is all my fault?’
‘No, of cour–’
I feel ashamed and conflicted and I don’t like it. ‘Grand.’ I’m snippy. ‘So long as we’re clear that this is entirely your fault.’
He nods.
‘So. You wanted six months off?’
‘I don’t any more.’
‘Shush. Here’s the plan. We tell the girls you’re taking your full six months, which is another ten weeks. You’ll live with Carl and Chizo, so we can all adjust to the new normal. The girls will get used to us living in the same city, but not together. When the ten weeks are up, we’ll tell them it’s permanent.’
He winces.
‘Meanwhile we look for solutions to our finances.’
‘Amy –’
No. This is the only thing that will work. ‘Above all, you and I, Hugh, we speak to each other with respect. Sofie is in her last year at school, Kiara’s only a year behind her. They need stability so we provide a united front. Right?’
‘Right.’
‘There’s something you should know. While you were away, Sofie got pregnant –’
‘I know. She, I … We spoke to each other regularly. It was always the plan they could contact me if they needed.’
Right. I’d known that. I’d got that their needs were more important than mine. But, still, it hurts.
I wait until the mix of pain and fury passes, then say, ‘Can I ask one favour? If you’re putting it about, could you steer clear of Genevieve Payne?’
‘Are you insane? I love you, I won’t be putting it about. And Genevieve is married.’
Married makes no difference to anything, as we’ve both discovered.
He reads my thoughts. ‘Okay, I’ll steer clear. And if you and your … man split up, there’s someone I’d like you to stay away from.’
‘Who?’
‘Alastair.’
That’s the second time he’s mentioned Alastair in this context. ‘What’s the fixation with that eejit? Hugh, he’d be literally the last man in the world, apart from Richie Aldin.’
‘I dunno. You’re so close. He likes you such a lot. And he’s so … good-looking.’
It’s hard to know where to start. ‘He’s not my type.’ I like my men more dishevelled. ‘But if you don’t sleep with Genevieve Payne, I won’t sleep with Alastair.’
We share a tremulous smile.
96
I go upstairs to Kiara’s room and stay there until I hear the front door click closed behind Hugh, then the sound of his car driving away, leaving me in a house howling with absence.
Emotional pain can’t kill a person, I know that. Unbearable as this is, I will survive. Time will heal me. But, second by second, I must live through this.
I want to climb into bed and sleep for a week, but in my own bedroom all I can smell is Hugh, so I change the bedlinen and put on a wash. In the fresh bed, I close my eyes and await merciful escape but my head won’t stop flashing pictures of Hugh. Again and again I see him coming through the front door with his rucksack, collapsing into tears, pleading with me … My elbow hurts from where I hit him.
The pictures in my head won’t stop. It’s a little like being in a scary movie.
Too much has happened too quickly, I’ve overdosed on bad adrenalin – perhaps I’m in some sort of shock.
My phone vibrates with a text. It’s Derry – for about the twentieth time. She’s agitating for a massive debrief but I can’t inhabit my reality any longer.
I text her back: Have you any sleeping tablets?
Her reply is almost instantaneous: Is Barack Obama a woke bae? On my way.
She’s with me in minutes, hoping that the price of the sleeping tablets is a full account of everything.
‘No, Derry, I’m in a state. I barely slept last night –’
‘But Hugh is ba–’
‘I know. But, Derry, please …’ Tears spill on to my hands. ‘Not now. Gimme the tablets. I need oblivion.’
‘Oblivion? What sort of oblivion?’
‘Temporary.’
‘I dunno …’ She’s eyeing me with concern. ‘I’m only giving you two.’
There’s no chance of me taking an overdose, but I haven’t the energy to argue. Two will have to do.
I take one, and it’s as if I’ve been hit on the head: instant darkness. In the middle of the night I lurch back into consciousness so I take the second tablet. When I next come to, it’s ten past two on New Year’s Eve.
Twenty-five hours gone. Twenty-five hours nearer to me feeling okay again. There’ll be an unholy number of twenty-five-hour parcels to live through but it’s a start.
My phone is full of invitations to New Year’s Eve bashes – a night I’ve always hated. Now that I’m trending again, it’s even less attractive. The thought of all those avidly curious people glomming on to me, trying to extract information about the status of my marriage, under the guise of congratulations, is giving me the horrors.
I stay in and, other than a call from Josh, speak to no one.
New Year’s Day I spend doing stuff around the house, dreading the dawning of 2 January, the day Hugh and I are telling the girls that he won’t be moving back in ‘just yet’.
97
Monday, 2 January
It’s around noon when Hugh shows up. I let him in and we nod awkwardly at each other.
‘How’s Carl’s?’ I ask.
‘Fine,’ he says. ‘Good. Grand.’
I’m sure it’s anything but, but it’ll have to do. Carl is the flashiest, richest Durrant brother, and even though his fancy home has three spare bedrooms (they’ve only one child, Noah, the Boy Wonder), I sense Chizo won’t be keen on Hugh sticking around for too long. Runs a tight ship, does Chizo. Never misses a chance to tell me that my set-up is appallingly chaotic. I like her a lot, but she scares me sideways.
‘Kiara should be home in about half an hour. Go on into the living room.’
As soon as Hugh and I explain the plan to Kiara, she’s suspicious. Her eyes flick from Hugh to me, then back again. ‘But you came home because you wanted to be with us, right?’ she demands of Hugh.
‘Yes.’
She turns her stare on me. ‘And you missed Dad really badly?’
‘Of course, bu–’
‘So why can’t you just be together like now? Why do you have to wait until the six months are over?’
‘Leaving you all was a huge thing to do.’ Hugh is hoarse. ‘I didn’t take the decision lightly and –’
‘– he needs to be sure it’s all out of his system,’ I say.
Emotions scud across Kiara’s face, like fast-moving clouds. ‘No, Dad.’
‘What, hon?’
‘No, you know, with other ladies. Women. People who might know us. Whatever you did while you were away, well … I can’t even go there. But here, where it would throw shade on Mum –’
‘I won’t. That’s not what this is about!’
The cold look Kiara gives him tells us that a lot has changed since he left. I have to wonder if she’s seen that picture on his timeline. Well, something has happened, even if it’s just that she’s grown up a bit.
‘Sweetie,’ I say. ‘You’re allowed to be angry or disappointed or worried.’
‘I don’t need your permission to feel my feelings.’ She stalks from the room.
I’m shaking with distress. Hugh and I exchange an oh-shite look. Our sweet Kiara, is this going to ruin her, turn her sour and suspicious?
‘Should I go after her?’ Hugh asks.
‘Do.’
I’d hoped I’d feel less unsettled when the three girls had been told that Hugh won’t be living here, but seeing how badly Kiara has taken it, the worry is that Sofie will be even worse.
Unexpectedly, she isn’t.
‘On Christmas Day,’ she says to Hugh, ‘I thought you were just home for a few days and I was okay with that. I know it hurt you to leave us back in September, and you only did it because you had to, so I guess it’s important enough to do it right.’