I tapped his tiny button nose. ‘You may not understand now, but I hope you will one day, when you’re a big boy.’ I smiled as he sat up straight, pulling his shoulders back and holding his head high. ‘Yes, a big boy, just like that but even bigger! This is very important for Mummy to do, but especially for Jack.’
‘Speshaly for me-e-e,’ he emphasised, without any real idea of what I was talking about.
I kissed his soft pink nose. ‘Yes, speshaly for you, my beautiful boy!’
I continued, despite knowing it would go over his head. ‘It will give Mummy lots of strength and all the confidence you and I are going to need soon. Okay?’ Soon? What was my plan, other than to escape? It had to be one to also benefit you. The normal routes of leaving a broken marriage were not an option. You would never let us go, would you. Unless it was in your best interest.
‘Okay. So, Mummy, Be Strong,’ he exaggerated at me. I picked him up and snuggled his warm body tightly.
As we walked towards the patio door, I promised him. ‘One day soon, not too long away, Mummy will take you away from all this.’
‘Mummy, Jack go on olerday.’ He beamed.
‘Kind of like a holiday, yes. Then we can be happy together. Okay?’ He gave me one of his crushing smiles before nuzzling his head into my hair.
He had no idea of the true meaning of my words, so it didn’t matter that I voiced my motives. We had an unspoken understanding: mine was to make essential changes and his was to place his trust in me. It was a huge ask, given his angelic face still lit up at the sight of his daddy, since he didn’t realise the truth. He wanted to love him; I wished it were possible. He naturally assumed the things he witnessed and heard were standard. This was my greatest fear of all. Jack could grow up thinking his dad was normal.
Just the night before, I was giving Jack his tea in his high chair in the kitchen when you arrived home unusually early. The slam of the door caused us both to jump. ‘Eve?’ you bellowed from the hall.
‘In here; giving Jack his tea.’ Why did I always hope today would be different? Even when I knew it couldn’t be. Your leather shoes tapped on the wood before you sauntered into the kitchen, pulling at your tie to loosen it, dropping your suit jacket onto the side.
You stopped in the tracks of Jack’s chortle-filled smile. ‘There you are.’ You pointed back to him, smiling. If only this were how you could remain, I ached.
Jack’s little face emitted splashes of joy and mischief. Then he picked up his apple and flung it to the floor, giggling, ‘Daddy!’
You moved towards him, scowling as you bent down to pick up the apple segment. ‘Don’t do that, Jack, it’s naughty! Does Mummy let you do it?’
I watched as Jack’s upturned plump lips levelled out.
‘He was just excited to see you. Over enthusiastic.’
‘He has to realise this is naughty. Not acceptable.’ You glared at Jack as if he were an insolent teenager.
Shame your parents didn’t teach you the rights and wrongs of life, I thought.
I was keen not to let the situation escalate. Constantly playing the arbitrator, trying to prevent a fall-out over the most insignificant issues. ‘Do you want Daddy to finish giving you your fruit, Jack?’ I asked him.
‘Ye-e-s-s-s.’ He kicked his happy-again feet against the leg rest. I turned to pass over to you, but the look on your face told me I was a fool.
You held out your hands. ‘No can do, I’m afraid. I’ve a meeting tonight.’ You prodded at your mobile screen. ‘Everyone will be here in… around an hour. I’ve notes to prepare yet.’ You turned away to swagger over to the glass unit, reaching for a whisky tumbler. You didn’t address Jack again. He simply disappeared.
‘Who’s coming here?’ I asked you.
You shot me a quizzical look. ‘Why? Of what relevance is it?’ I didn’t respond. Pouring yourself a large whisky, swirling the burnt orange liquor in the glass, you replied, ‘Work colleagues; usual gang. Important stuff.’ You gulped back indulgently; I was wishing you’d choke. ‘Can you dig out the Thai menu from the drawer in the utility room?’
‘What about the lasagne I’ve made?’
You topped up your glass, smirking. ‘Eve, come on? I can hardly serve up…’ you smirked ‘… lasagne. This isn’t a cosy soirée.’ Your mobile pinged. ‘Dig out the menu, there’s a good girl.’ You didn’t look up from your screen but continued to noisily gulp the honeyed liquid. I bit my tongue. I could feel my blood pressure rising. So, was this how crimes of passion occurred? I welcomed another night away from you, but you made my blood boil with your brazen, rude arrogance. I turned away to take a seat next to Jack, who had withdrawn at his father’s lack of interest.
You moved to the other side of the kitchen, and began to rummage through the pull-out larder cupboard. ‘Can you make sure Jack is bathed, in bed on time tonight? He can’t be making a noise, running around when I’ve people here,’ you conveyed to my back.
‘Sure.’ Why didn’t I tell you, it’s Jack’s home, not theirs? Because it would have damaged our chances; patience was compulsory. ‘Shall we read your favourite book tonight, Jack? The one with the flying chair?’ Jack beamed, nodding enthusiastically.
‘For Christ’s sake.’ I could hear you taking items from the larder cupboard, tossing them on the floor. I tried to ignore you. I already knew what your grievance was.
‘What adventure do you think they’ll have this time?’ I asked Jack. You continued to empty the entire cupboard of jars, packets and tins into a heap. My stomach curdled at the sound, as I felt your frustration building by the moment. A ticking bomb.
‘To a new land!’ shouted Jack.
I could sense you were standing still. ‘A new land? Like what?’ I knew you were staring at me; willing me to turn around.
‘EVE!’ you shouted, making me jump despite knowing it was coming. I turned to see your incensed expression. I didn’t need to ask; I’d been shopping that morning and, in the rush to get Jack out for his swimming club, had placed the grocery items in the appropriate cupboard but without care; not in the correct order or position. Careless.
‘Well?’ You stood looking from the carnage on the floor to me and back again. ‘Do you not have anything to say?’
‘Not now, Gregg, you’re worrying Jack.’ I looked back at Jack to see his bottom lip beginning to quiver.
Then, lots of scuffing and thudding noises behind me as you booted various packages over the floor, spewing contents, hitting the kitchen base units. My shoulders tensed with trepidation but it still took me by surprise as my head pounded forward, jarring my neck. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I’d bit hard down on my tongue. From the large tub of Marmite that now wedged itself between my backbone and the rear of the chair, having rebound from my skull. Thank goodness for plastic packaging, ricocheted through my mind. I took Jack’s innocent hand in mine, in some rough attempt to soothe away his concerned look. Some time ago, I’d probably have apologised to you.
‘I’m going to shower. Ensure this mess is straightened out. I mean, for pity’s sake, what have you been doing all day? You’re right, you should return to work. At least then I’ll be able to employ someone competent to sort the house.’
I could quite easily have reached for a kitchen knife. I counted to ten; time, Eve, time.
With inflexible eyes bearing into me, you snatched up the bag of whole nuts you were obviously looking for, along with your whisky tumbler, before making your way back to the door, grabbing your jacket from the work surface as you passed.