It had harpooned her unexpectedly, when she was filling the kettle with water, a sudden, swift plunge to the heart, and she had dumped the kettle in the sink while she fought to breathe again. For she suddenly knew who ‘someone from the club’ was. Marianne was back, now that their respective children had grown. And then she remembered he’d been out with ‘someone from the club’ the previous week. Before that, she couldn’t remember and panicked while she wracked her brains. After the shock had subsided, she felt exhausted, beaten, and she knew it was because they were still in love.
Gradually ‘golf’ had spread to whole weekends and she saw him less and less. Occasionally she considered whether she should ask him for a divorce, but it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Even though she knew Howard was the cause of her loneliness, facing up to it, breaking them apart would only make the wound open and raw. She’d always preferred to concentrate on other things. Daniel had been at the centre of her life for so long, and now she was secretly thrilled with the notion that he’d found someone special, someone with whom she might be able to be friends.
‘Daniel’s out again tonight.’
‘I assumed as much.’
‘That’s the third night in a row.’
He still hadn’t looked up from the paper and let out a small laugh. ‘He’s a grown man.’
She suppressed her frustration. ‘Yes, of course. He’s with a girl.’
Finally Howard looked at her. ‘Good for him.’
She smiled. ‘I think he’s smitten. They only met three days ago. And he’s seen her every night since.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘Oh, come on, Howard. Don’t you want to know who this girl is who’s swept him off his feet?’
‘You obviously do.’
‘Maybe I’ll text him.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ he whip-cracked.
Hurt, she paused with the fork midway to her mouth. ‘I’m joking.’
‘Leave him alone. Just because for the first time in his life you don’t know every detail. Don’t interfere.’
‘I’m not interfering,’ she said quietly, and suddenly wanted to leave the room. She put her napkin down on the table and got up. She was about to take her plate to the kitchen when—
‘You’re obsessive’ – it was sudden, blunt – ‘possessive.’
She stopped dead.
Neither of them said anything for a moment; then he got up from the table and left.
Laura stood there, her plate in her hand. Tears pricked her eyes, not just at the shock of the accusation but because of the look he’d given her as he left. It was a look of deep, loathing resentment. She sat for a moment and then, as if to stop his words settling on her somehow, stood again quickly and walked into the kitchen. She knew better than to follow him. He’d gone to the den, and anyway, she didn’t feel like confronting him, wasn’t in the mood for an argument.
The plate clattered on the counter, and then the anger and indignation at what he’d said came out. He was the one who had made himself absent all those years. What did he know about the mammoth job required to bring up a child? The all-encompassing care when they were tiny, the lack of sleep, the wiping of cheeks, hands, bums, tables, high chairs – wipe, wipe, wipe. The inability to go to the toilet by yourself, the absolute knowledge that one hug from you would soothe the bumps and bruises, and those hugs always had to be available, the constant reverse psychology/humour/diversion tactics required to get through an average day with a toddler. He’d never had to deal with, or suffer, the heart-rending tears when Daniel didn’t want to go to nursery or try to work out why, when his four-year-old reasoning couldn’t explain, he lacked the confidence to make friends. He hadn’t had to make the decisions over sports, clubs and parties, or work out how to encourage independence without making him feel he was unsupported, or soothe the night terrors after the sudden death of his grandfather from a heart attack. What did he know about any of this? She felt a rage at his appalling short-sightedness, and then, pouring herself a glass of wine, the anger subsided. Nobody knew any of this, nobody but a mother.
She picked up her wine and found her book by the fridge and took them into the darkening garden. The jasmine was beautifully pungent, its hundreds of tiny white star-like flowers just breaking out now June had arrived. She lit the citronella candles and soon the moths came to investigate. As she sat in the swing seat, she let her mind drift. It was funny thinking back – it had been practically just her and Daniel for years, and now he was on the verge of moving out permanently. She was suddenly reminded of something he used to say when he was three. He’d pretend to be a puppy and bound around her.
‘Woof!’ he’d say. ‘Do you like him?’
‘He’s gorgeous.’
‘You can keep him if you want.’
‘Can I?’
‘You can keep him forever.’ And he’d throw his arms around her neck tightly.
The cat came mewing pitifully, his tail like a toilet brush, and she saw a fox sniffing around the large opaque window in the middle of the lawn that formed part of the ceiling of the subterranean pool room. Moses jumped onto her lap and stood there, still meowing and waiting for salvation. She’d originally got him for Daniel when he was nine, to teach him about looking after pets. He was a small silver-grey Burmese and she’d ended up growing quite fond of him. Picking up a pebble, she threw it in the direction of the fox; she disliked them, was wary of their capabilities and lack of boundaries. Recently she’d heard a distraught, incredulous woman call into a radio breakfast show talking about how a fox had brazenly walked in through the open back door and climbed into her baby’s cot in the middle of the day. She shuddered. If that had been Daniel when he was small, she would have probably smashed its head against the patio.
Three nights in a row, she thought with a smile. Who sees someone three nights in a row from the off? What did this girl have that was so special? As she mused about Cherry, she thought about another girl, a girl a tiny bit older than Daniel. Rose was Laura’s firstborn. She’d been the perfect baby, eating and sleeping right on schedule from day one. Which was why it had been so unusual when, at only a few days old, she’d had difficulty waking her for a feed. When it happened again three hours later, Laura was worried enough to take her to the doctor. He took one look at her and she was rushed to hospital. She was diagnosed with group B streptococcus, contracted from undetected bacteria in the birth canal. After twenty-four hours, the doctors told them Rose was going to die, and two hours later, she did, in her arms. She was exactly seven days old.