“Please,” she said to Henry, “please take the cord off and we can have a chat.”
The little room wasn’t designed for any of this, not for this many people, not for this much sadness. When the paramedics had checked him over and accepted that he was not going to actually go through with it, they agreed to leave, but only after Henry called his mum and asked to stay with her for a while. It was a short conversation, no detail.
“She’s coming to get me,” he said.
“We’ll wait until she gets here, mate,” the man from downstairs said. He paused and added apologetically, “I’m Sam, by the way.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Henry said, without looking up. There was silence. The room still felt small with two adults standing and one sagging the little bed down in the middle.
Suddenly Henry looks up, stands. “How did you know?” he asks.
“I saw you,” says Robin, stepping forward. “I saw you from my window. You must know that I did, because you’ve seen me too.”
He wrinkles his forehead and sits back down but keeps his eyes on her. Dark brown eyes with very little white. “I’ve never seen you before in my life,” he says.
“I wasn’t going to do this now, but as you’ve asked, I saw you look at me the other day,” Robin answers, standing a little taller, “not long after you’d punched your wife.” Sarah entered the room and she and Sam flash a look at each other but say nothing.
“Punched my wife?” Henry screws his face up like he’s swallowed something sour. “I’ve never punched my wife, what the hell are you talking about?”
Sarah looks nervously at her sister now, and Sam lifts his free hand like he’s about to separate Henry and Robin but lets it fall to his side.
“C’mon,” Sam says, and then takes a sip of his tea like he’s not sure what else to do.
“No,” said Henry quietly. “I want to hear this. You think I punched my wife?”
“I saw you,” Robin says, holding his gaze. “I saw you make a fist, and I saw you throw a punch. And then I saw the argument after that, saw your little boy covering his ears. I didn’t see what you did but—”
“And you think you saw me punch my wife?” Henry says, shaking his head. He doesn’t sound angry. The words come out slower than that. Like he’s doing sums.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” he finally says. “You called the police.”
Robin stands planted to the floor, breathing in and out like a bull preparing to charge. “Yeah, I did. And it was the right thing too.” Only Sarah can see how fast Robin’s knees are shaking.
Henry stares at her, his mouth open slightly. Just as Sam says, “Look, I really don’t think this is the time,” Henry stands up and walks toward Robin. Robin stays still. Feet to the floor, hands on her hips. Henry looms over her, wraps both his arms around her shoulders and starts to sob. She looks at the others, panicking, but then pats Henry’s dressing gown, wraps her arms around him and holds him.
—
Sam has left for work now and Sarah and Robin are left with Henry, sitting at his table while they wait for his mum to arrive.
“I thought Karen had called the police and lied to them. I was so fucking angry, I can’t tell you. I thought she was trying to paint a picture of me so she could take my boy away.”
“They won’t let you have your son if you’ve hit your wife,” Sarah says carefully, the first time she’s addressed him directly.
“But I didn’t hit my wife. I’d never hit my wife—I’d never hit anyone. I know when you’re talking about, Robin. I threw a punch: look.” He gestures to a crack in one of the wooden cupboard doors. “I regretted it straightaway. But I didn’t hit my wife; I never would. She was cheating on me and she’d left me and I thought she was trying to take my boy away completely, but I would still never hit a woman. We had some blazing rows, and I hate that Art heard them. I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I would never hurt Karen. Not like that.”
Henry had been hoping to sell the flat, find something cheaper so he could afford to get a part-time job and share custody of his son, Arthur, with his wife.
“I know she did the dirty on me, but I wanted us to live close by, try to do it right. I wanted to be a proper dad to him still, even if I only had him part of the time. But then the police got involved and it blindsided me. Even after the cheating, I trusted what she’d said about Arthur. That she would share custody and try to keep things as easy for me as possible. So when I thought she was trying to stitch me up with the police, paint me like that to get custody…” He trails off, fiddles with the toy mouse in his hands.
He still had a chance to put things right. Arthur’s mum hadn’t turned against him, hadn’t dismantled his chance with his son. It was Robin’s meddling that had nearly done that. But now, finally, that meddling had saved Mr. Magpie’s life.
THIRTY-EIGHT
SARAH|1998
Night and day, that’s what our dad used to say when we were little. And we’re still so different in many ways, but my sister has been kind to me. Maybe it’s because I’ve been knocked flying from my high horse, maybe it’s just because Callum has left and she needs a distraction, but for the last few weeks, Robin has helped put the air back in my lungs. She doesn’t treat me like the elephant in the room. She talks about the baby like it’s an actual living thing, who will grow and have a name and wear little clothes and run around in the playground with his or her auntie.
She refuses to let me be ashamed at growing such a thing, even though I am embarrassed. I was going to be a normal girl who went to college, got a nice safe job, met a nice guy, got married and had two planned children. I was embarrassed that I’d believed that and ashamed that I’d blown it.
Most importantly, my sister takes the mickey out of me to help keep everything as normal as possible. And I’ve noticed she’s spending more time at home now, sitting next to me on the sofa like a guard dog, giving my dad warning looks when he says something she thinks might offend.
Robin came with me to the midwife today. My first appointment at the village surgery. As soon as we were in the room, Robin asked the midwife if she was going to give me an internal examination and then added, “Because she’s not had any action for about four months.”
“I hope you’re not going to be too much trouble, young lady,” the midwife had said.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Robin had said, wide-eyed.
“So,” the midwife had said, clapping her hands together, “I can see that you’re a little further along than we’d expect at a first appointment.”
I told the midwife the date that I got pregnant. “Are you certain that was the day?” she’d asked, filling in a little card with notes.
“It was a one-off,” I said, and I saw Robin’s brow knit, her dark eyebrows curling in thought.
“I see,” the midwife had said. “And was this a surprise, then?”
“Yes,” I whispered, “a big surprise.”