“Yes, fine thanks.”
“Moving house is one of those things, isn’t it — right up there with divorce — enough to make anyone stressed.” She keeps her back to him, hiding her fury. He must have witnessed her snap at Kim. She puts three bags in the pot, fills it with water then pours his tea without giving it time to brew, ignoring his gesture to wait, and enjoying the insipid grey she slops into his mug. Her phone beeps as she hands him the tea.
A text from Robert? She tries to hide her shaking hands: “Your recent accident could make you eligible…” It’s an advertisement. Shit.
“You all right?”
She nods yes, but she feels trapped, stifled by Simon’s presence, unable to think. She stalks out, taking her phone to the ladies’. She needs privacy, some fucking privacy, just to be able to think. Robert is not going to call her. She had hoped that, once the first shock had settled, he would be able to listen to her, that she could tell him everything in her own words. But instead he has amputated her like a gangrenous limb. She tries to suppress her own anger, but it is becoming harder. Doesn’t she deserve a hearing? Instead he is making her feel like a stalker, her endless texts and voice mails ignored. She calls his secretary.
“Hi, Katy. I just wondered if Robert was in at the moment. I don’t need to talk to him, I just wanted to drop something by…” She sounds like a woman who suspects her husband of having an affair. If he is in his office she will go there and confront him; he won’t be able to run away; he won’t want a scene, he will have to listen.
“No, he left early,” she is told. “He said he was going to work from home this afternoon.”
“Of course. Stupid me. I forgot.” Every day a new lie.
When she walks through the front door, she trips over a holdall and her heart races. He’s come home. Thank God, he’s moved back in. But it is Nicholas’s bag, not Robert’s. It is Nicholas who is moving in. There’s already a heap of dirty washing outside the kitchen. Robert is at the house though, sitting at the kitchen table with Nick. A beer each. A smile on Robert’s face, the sports pages open in front of Nicholas. Neither looks up as she walks in. There is a brief moment, a flash, when she thinks: Nicholas spare room, her back in bed with Robert? But when Robert looks at her, she knows this is fantasy and his words confirm it.
“Nick’s come to keep me company while you’re away.”
What the…? Nicholas looks at her and she is struck by how pale and tired he looks. Does he know? But then he smiles and returns to the newspaper. She opens her mouth to speak but Robert beats her to it. Robert is in charge.
“Sounds like a big story, so I guess you’ll be gone for a few weeks. I packed you a bag — I thought you’d be in a hurry to get off.”
Every sentence feels like a slap across her face. He has told Nick she is going away for work. She approaches him, takes his hand: “Robert…” She wants him to go upstairs with her, to listen to her, but he pulls his hand away and picks up the phone. She hears him call a cab.
“What’s the story, Mum?” Nicholas asks, but Robert answers for her.
“Oh, your mother won’t even tell me.” He sounds so glib, and Nicholas isn’t that interested anyway and returns to the football gossip.
“The cab’s on its way. You better go and check I’ve packed what you want.” She stays where she is for a moment, wanting to scream at him how dare he but she doesn’t, she can’t — not in front of Nicholas.
She goes upstairs and sits on the bed. He has packed a small case, enough for a week. She looks at the folded clothes, the knickers stuffed down the side, the washbag zipped up and placed on top. She feels around in the case, hoping that maybe he will have slipped in a note to say he just needs time to think. A little space and then they can talk. But there is no note. He doesn’t need to explain. She does.
“Your cab’s here,” he yells up and she closes the case and carries it downstairs. She wants Robert to look at her, to meet her eye, but he won’t. He is all brisk and bright. There’s supper to get ready. They can manage very well without her, thank you, she hears in her head. Nicholas gets up and shambles towards her, kicking a sock which has strayed from the pile of dirty clothes.
“See you, Mum,” he says and she gives him a hug. No words. She looks over his shoulder at Robert, but still he refuses to look at her. Coward, she thinks and feels Nicholas slither from her embrace. The cab is waiting.
She closes the front door and walks to the car with its engine running. The driver watches her put her case on the backseat and get in next to it.
“Where to?” he asks. Robert hasn’t decided her destination then. Where to? She gives the driver an address.
33. SUMMER 2013
Nicholas takes his holdall up to the spare room, drops it with a bang onto the floor then launches himself backwards onto the bed: freefall, legs out, shoes on, head hitting the pillow. He closes his eyes and smells his mum. He opens his eyes. Yes, he really can smell her. He sniffs the pillow. It’s definitely her. She’s been sleeping in the spare room. What the fuck’s going on? His dad didn’t say good-bye when she left. He didn’t even go to the door. That’s not like him — he’s a devotee. That’s why Nicholas made the effort — well, someone had to. He’d felt sorry for her. He can’t remember ever feeling sorry for his mum.
Seeing her leave like that reminds him of when he was little and she used to go away for work. It never bothered him. When she got home she’d fuss around him, like she’d missed him so much. He used to ignore her — it never felt real, like she was putting it on. He could keep it up for days, not talking to her. She’d come back with presents — Sandy the dog was one of them. She probably bought it at the airport anyway, but he loved it, used to sleep with it every night. When she was home she was always the one who put him to bed and read to him. He’d lie there with his eyes shut pretending to be asleep, but she’d carry on and he’d listen to the sound of her voice until eventually he did fall asleep. He’d hurt her when he told her he didn’t want to keep Sandy. For fuck’s sake, why would he?
If it was the other way round, she’d never have invited him to stay in their nice new home. Dad’s soft though, but it’ll drive Nicholas mad if he keeps up the cheery banter: constant fucking chat about what they’re going to eat. Even watching him pick away at the cellophane on their meal for two made Nicholas’s skin itch; he couldn’t wait to get upstairs. Still, it’s good to have a few home comforts but will he be able to stand being round his dad if he’s like this the whole time? Yes, because he needs the cash. He’ll sublet his room, no need for Dad to know — there’s money to be made. Poor old Mum, the last thing she wants is him messing up their spanking-new spare room.
He hangs over the side of the bed and drags his bag towards him, taking out his washbag. He’s brought his toothbrush but no soap, no shampoo; no need. He’s back “home.” Mum would have a fit if she knew he’d brought drugs into the house. She’d think he was “losing control”; “not on top of things”; worried he was going to “slip off the edge” again. Of course he won’t. Steady job. Suit. What more do they want? It’s like old times — his parents knowing fuck all about what’s going on. Something’s going on with them though, but he can’t be arsed to find out what. They can keep their secrets, he has his. Still, generous of the old man to offer to help out with a holiday. With his girlfriend. He cringes at the memory of his lie. He doesn’t have a girlfriend but it’s what his dad wanted to hear.
From where he’s lying he can see the tops of the trees in the garden. They fill the frame of the window. Just like the old house, only smaller. It’s even in the same neighbourhood, a spit from where he grew up. His dad was pleased when he said he had a girlfriend but Nicholas doesn’t want the hassle of a girlfriend — too much fucking bother. He’d like the money though, so he’ll have to spin it out a bit longer — or maybe he’ll say he’s decided to go away with friends instead. Dad’ll still cough up — he’ll find it hard to back down after saying he’d help out. He laughs when he thinks what his dad would make of his friends.