‘The matter of the missing supermarket receipt. From your last statement?’
I’d bitten my tongue. Visualising wiping the smug expression from your face. ‘Why didn’t you at least tell me you’d cancelled them?’
Your voice had been muffled. ‘Thank you, Patricia. I don’t know what I’d do without you,’ you’d oozed to some poor fool in your office. Her slinking away with your compliments. ‘Where was I? Oh, yes… now, if I had warned you, how would that have taught you a lesson, Eve?’
I’d been able to feel my cheeks reddening with blood pressure. ‘You’ve taken all the cash from my purse too!’
‘Yes. Actually, no, that’s not quite true, I left you enough change for parking. Perhaps next time you’ll make sure you keep all your receipts. Everything has consequences, Eve, everything.’
I didn’t spend a fortune on a dress; what was the point? Just another way of dressing up the lies. But I did want to make an effort; not for you but because I desperately needed to feel nice. I was off to Wimbledon for the first time. I slipped my feet into bronze-coloured high-heeled strappy sandals, admiring them from each angle. So pretty. I felt your eyes on me, saw you smirking before walking away, shaking your head. Pulling myself up, I blushed with the thought of being girly and silly. Clumsy and awkward was how I felt next. I observed my reflection in the mirror. Even my make-up, especially my signature coral-red lipstick, now appeared puerile. Reaching for a tissue, I dabbed at my mouth to make it less obvious. I tucked my shoulder-length ashen strands behind my ear, exposing diamond studs, a present from my parents. You didn’t like them. But they allowed me a surreptitious closeness to my memories of warmth and love. I loosened my hair again, to cover them up.
I could hear you downstairs, parading up and down the oak floors whilst charming our babysitter. A perfect gentleman. You knew how to make people feel good about themselves. Jack was giggling away, chatting in an animated, jumbled-up, nonsensical manner. He was happy; that was enough for now. I imprisoned my finger with my wedding and engagement rings. I only ever wore them in public. They made me feel bound and suffocated. I always took them off as soon as I walked back through the door. You never noticed, or at least you didn’t comment on it. Or perhaps you just didn’t care.
A few minutes later we were collected from our over-elaborate statement gates by a black funeral-like car. Thankfully, David and Sue, a senior partner at your company and his wife, were already in the car, so some animated conversation with good-humoured banter covered for us. I knew the couple reasonably well from the numerous corporate events, enough to relax a little. Still, the feeling of it all rolling out before me, around me, as I watched life go by out of the window; such a fa?ade, all of it. How long could I keep it up for, fake smiles, forged banter? Was I becoming as good an actor as you? I was aware of a muffled you, floating over my semi-conscious state; talking about me, us, in a vivacious manner. As if you thought of me in a positive light, as an intellectual equal. My skin was beginning to crawl.
Sitting back against the leather seats, I listened as you enlightened them how I was due to return to the hospital soon, to work within the brain-rehabilitation clinics. So this was what it must feel like to have true appreciation from your husband; for a moment, I tried to embrace it as if it were real. Fascinated at your eagerness to express your appreciation of my work, your compassion for the unfortunate families and loved ones. I could feel myself slipping between the two worlds again, a twisted form of reality. Was I on the edge of psychosis? I caught your dishonest eye before returning to the world outside the window. Only yesterday you loomed over me, mocked me for even considering returning to work.
‘What?’
‘I’m thinking of returning to the hospital. Not full time, a few hours each week. They called me last week, asked me to consider it. So, I’ve given it a lot of—’
‘Huh. Really? You seriously believe it’s a sensible move, given your state of mind at the moment? You in a position of helping others?’ You guffawed. ‘I’ve heard it all now. No wonder so many people die in our hospitals. Bloody public sector.’
‘Actually—’
‘Have you told them?’
‘About what?’
‘Well, I think you’ll find they’ve only asked you because they’re assuming you’re as you used to be.’ You snorted. ‘They have no idea.’ You swaggered back over to your desk, flipping your Apple screen into action. ‘Why you’d even want to is beyond me. Especially on your salary.’
Your mobile trilled, cutting through the air. ‘Hold a minute, will you?’ you said to the caller.
‘What about Jack?’ you said to your Apple screen. ‘Have you for one minute considered him in all this babble? You are, then, able to live with yourself, knowing full well you’ll be sacrificing his needs for your own selfish ones? Grow up, for Christ’s sake. You’ve responsibilities. Poor Jack, whatever did he do to deserve a mother like you? Seriously, you are bloody unbelievable.’ You returned to your call.
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind you how you had refused to have any relationship with your own mother for the last three years. But learned self-control took a grip, so as not to cut off my nose to spite my face. I needed to win this one; I turned and walked away. The seed was sown for the time being. I felt your eyes follow me out of the room. Your mobile ringing served me well. You wanted a fight; I didn’t want to play anymore. Things were changing. You knew it, didn’t you? You knew you needed to up your game in order to renegotiate some respect. Power and control. I shuddered at the thought of what might come next, but I also knew it was essential.
How could anyone switch so transiently from black to white to now articulate these words tripping from your mouth? I was caught between not allowing myself to be surprised by such turncoat behaviours, and ensuring I kept them at arm’s length. Otherwise they would become my norm too. How would I escape then? The daily disgust and astonishment kept me within the realms of lucidity. I lived the lie, but I knew it was a lie. I knew it was so wrong in every conceivable way. I wouldn’t ever let go of that. I was brought back into the moment by you kicking my foot, realising I’d absconded from the conversation.
‘Heavens, Eve, this is wonderful. Your work must be unbelievably recompensing. So worthwhile. I’m not sure how you cope with the heartache. I honestly don’t think I could.’ Sue looked from you to me.
For a passing moment, I wasn’t sure whether she was referring to my home life, or the hospital; either way my response was apt. I smiled at her earnest face. ‘It’s hard at times; I’d be lying if I said otherwise. I try and focus on what I can do, rather than what I can’t do.’ Your eyes bore through me, sending me a warning. ‘We see some really sad cases; you wouldn’t be human if they didn’t touch you. But, I’ve come to realise, there’s always hope for change. Even when it seems truly hopeless. Good things can come from bad. I’ve seen it happen, lots of times.’
I wanted to add to this: Look at Jack, for example, I’d never be without him. You continued to eyeball me, trying to decipher any hidden meaning in what I’d said. Anything you would be obligated to deal with later, when we were alone. Your dark eyes piercing mine. Then you smiled that smile at me. ‘All very good, Eve, my eternal optimist. I’m afraid hope is a little too ambiguous for me. I need concrete facts. Charming, though. Really it is. I’ve always loved that about you. Always hanging onto something or other.’