The Nursery

by Asia Mackay

  ‘We’re nearly home, Gigi. We just need to make one stop first.’

  I pulled up outside the large house with the Savills ‘For Sale’ sign outside and parked the car.

  I rang the bell.

  Camilla opened the door. Arthur was in her arms in his pyjamas, holding a bottle of milk.

  ‘I’ve been expecting you,’ was all she said.

  Camilla had been right. Frederick had never come after them. He had walked out of their house, leaving Florence alone, and never once tried to make contact.

  ‘Hello, Gigi. Florence will be so happy to see you. She’s through there, building a fort.’

  Gigi ran ahead of us into the kitchen, where Florence was piling up empty cardboard boxes. Gigi joined in with a series of giggles and squeals from them both.

  I sat down at the table with Camilla. Arthur was on her lap drinking his milk.

  ‘You don’t need to worry anymore. He will never bother you again. He will never bother anyone again.’

  Camilla let out a long breath. ‘Are you sure?’

  It’s done.

  ‘Positive.’

  She stared down at the table. ‘They haven’t asked for him.’ She looked over at the girls playing. ‘Not once. We’re all getting on with life as before. Just . . . happier.’ She smiled.

  ‘Mama, mama, mamaaaaaa.’ The bottle was now empty and Arthur was wriggling. ‘I’d better take him up to bed.’

  I watched her leave the room, Arthur in her arms. She was dressed down in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair up in a messy ponytail. No Frederick forcing her into immaculate clothing. No Frederick overtaking every part of her life. It hadn’t been a marriage, it’d been a dictatorship. And she was now free.

  I thought of Peppa, George and Daddy Pig. All had planned covert meetings. All had things they wanted hidden. Real life came with its own set of challenges. But the people we went into battle with should be the ones that lifted us up. We needed to stand side by side and feel like there was nothing we couldn’t do together. You didn’t want to have to worry they were working for the other side. That they were keeping secrets from you. That they had found another teammate.

  I loved Will. I wanted to be with him. There might be times when I didn’t appreciate him. And he didn’t appreciate me. But we were still good together. I was happy with him. He was my family. And if having my head briefly turned by a charming but ultimately sociopathic colleague had showed me anything, it was: don’t ever underestimate what you have at home.

  Camilla came back downstairs holding the monitor. The strains of a lullaby could be heard playing through it.

  Naomi and Camilla were both now going it alone and they were better for it. I thought of Kate. Of her and George Pig walking down the street, hands clasped. That’s what it was about. Finding someone who put your happiness above theirs. It wasn’t about the big gestures and the grand declarations of love. It was fighting unseen battles for them. Knowing what was better for them than they did. When the lights went out and before sleep came, you wanted the person next to you to be on your team. Rage, fear, hurt, loneliness. They shouldn’t be in the marital bed. A partnership was meant to make your life better. It was meant to give you more joy than pain.

  We bid Camilla and Florence goodbye at the doorway.

  As we reached the car, I turned back and saw Camilla pick Florence up in her arms. The girl nuzzled into her neck as she closed the door. They were going to be OK. It was only going to get better from now on.

  Kate, Naomi and Suze had all come through for Camilla. They’d been coming round to see her, to commiserate over the bastard husband who’d just run off and left her. I thought of the WAF initiative; it may have started out as a farce but it had proven to be a huge success. Flicking through the reports from the other WAF groups, there was nothing but effusive praise from everyone involved. All had voted for it to continue. Everyone needed support. And not just from the person they lived with. I thought of my female friends. Of all the times I had turned to them when I wasn’t sure what to do. Reassurance whenever I questioned a decision. Help when childcare was an issue. Laughter at a time when otherwise it would be tears. Us women relied on each other. We understood each other, sometimes better than the men in our lives. We could build each other up in a way only we knew how. Tell each other we were doing brilliantly, when husbands forgot to, or didn’t even notice. We needed each other just as much as the man we may live with, sometimes even more so, as friends would still be there, even if the man no longer was.

  *

  As we drove the short distance home, I realised that Frederick had only turned my head as he’d reminded me of what the beginning of a relationship could be like. The getting-to-know-each-other thrills. It wasn’t real life and daily logistics. It wasn’t remembering to take the bins out. Sitting through dinners with their colleagues, friends, relatives who bored you. It was easy in the early stages. You were being your best self. Nice underwear. Not the comfortable kind. Engaged conversation, not checking your phone. You were making an effort. He was making an effort. Everything was shiny and new. But then, like all nice new toys, they grow dull. The gloss and sheen of a new flirtation eventually gives way to the mundane of familiarity.

  But being reminded of the early days. Being appreciated. Feeling special. Getting those moments was important. Remembering us as a couple and not just us as parents. I might never be able to be fully honest with Will about my job. But I could at least be more open about what I was feeling.

  Maybe, just as with my work, I needed my home life to have that spark. And if it was missing now, I needed to bring it back.

  ‘We’re home!’ I opened the door and Gigi went running through the hallway and into Will’s arms.

  ‘Dada!’

  He looked at me over her head as she clung to him. I walked up to them and gave him a kiss.

  ‘Back at last.’

  ‘Bed now, Dada,’ said Gigi. It was no wonder she was tired. It had been a long day of travelling.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart. I’ll take you up.’

  I went to the kitchen and got out a bottle of wine. I opened it and poured a large glass. I listened through the monitor as they talked and he read her a story.

  I loved him. I loved our life. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. It was him I wanted to come home to. It was him I wanted to grow old with. We had our problems. But then everyone did. It couldn’t always be all flowers and rainbows and mini-breaks and over-the-top declarations of love. We were a team. We were married. Wed. Together. And that’s the way it needed to stay.

  Will came downstairs and took a seat at the kitchen table.

  ‘I need to talk to you.’ I smiled at him and handed him the glass of wine.

  ‘I do too.’

  He reached behind his back.

  And placed my gun down on the kitchen table.

  ‘Just who the hell are you?’

  Everything was spinning.

  I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach.

  I dropped down into the chair opposite him.

  ‘I . . . I’m your wife. Mother of your child.’ I took the long, thin object out of my pocket and placed it on the table next to the gun. ‘Mother of your children.’

  The two of us sat there staring at the gun.

  And the positive pregnancy test.

  Note from the author

  Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed the book, please leave a review online. Even if it’s just a sentence or two, it would make all the difference and would be very much appreciated!

  Thanks,

  Asia

  Acknowledgements

  I think all acknowledgements should be written a little bit drunk. It allows you to really gush in proper Oscars acceptance speech style.

  So whoooop here goes . . .

  *Me standing on stage, clasping a copy of this book, looking out at a packed applauding audience.*

  A huge thank you to m
y editors of dreams, Katherine Armstrong and Eleanor Dryden, for loving Lex from the very start and for only ever giving me edit notes which had me nodding in agreement. You guys get me. So thank you!! And to all the very talented people at Zaffre for their hard work in bringing The Nursery into the world.

  Alice Lutyens, my Superagent. A big sparkly thank you for the hand-holding and endless good advice.

  I continue to be forever grateful to Tom Bromley and Faber Academy for giving me the guidance and start that helped me get published.

  To my BESTIE FOREVER Rebecca Thornton. *Camera pans to beautiful, dark-haired woman, who can’t be more than thirty-two, and is the only person in the audience standing and still clapping manically.* I don’t think I could write at all without you to ask advice from and have therapeutic EAC chats with. Let’s keep doing this together, as together there is NOTHING we can’t do *dramatic air punch* . . . (except drive and cook).

  To Caroline Barrow, Lara Smith-Bosanquet and Georgia Tennant. THANK YOU *hands clasped to chest* for the endless support and reading and rereading and basically being wonder women and wonderful friends.

  To others in my girl gang of favourites: Alicia Grimaldi, Suzannah Lockwood and Debbie Macey White. Thank you for ‘killing it’ with your help for my first book Killing It. *Audience collectively eye-roll.* To the rest of the godparents – sorry couldn’t squeeze you in as characters for this book too (that was my ingenious way of testing which of you actually read it . . . I KNOW WHO FAILED). *Three people in the audience look very sheepish.*

  Andrew Trotter. This book is dedicated to you as you’re awesome, etc. but mostly to let people know that, despite writing about marriage problems, ours is clearly ROCK SOLID. High fives for that and forever may it continue. *Camera close up of handsome black-tied Cumbrian looking very awkward at the attention.*

  A big thank you to my parents for, as always, being my biggest cheerleaders. *Camera pans to elderly (sorry) dapper bald-headed man and glamorous Chinese woman beaming with pride.*

  To my very beloved children: Tavie, Arlo, Gus and Silva. *Pause for people to absorb that I have FOUR children.* You are wonderfully inspiring and inspiringly wonderful. *Blow kisses.*

  And not to sound too sucky but a big final thank you to everyone who read Killing It *arms outstretched to audience* and took the time to leave (nice) reviews. I know it’s not cool to admit to reading reviews but I do. And there is no bigger kick than seeing kind words people you’ve never met have written about something you tapped out at your kitchen table. It makes my day EVERY TIME. *Talking louder over sound of orchestra starting.* SO THANK YOU THANK YOUUUU AND GOOD NIGHT!!

  *Dragged off stage still effusively waving and smiling.*

  About the Author

  Asia lives in London with her husband, four children and two dogs. She can’t remember the last time she had a full night’s sleep.

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Zaffre

  This ebook edition published in 2019 by

  ZAFFRE

  80-81 Wimpole St, London, W1G 9RE

  Copyright © Asia Mackay, 2019

  Cover design by Anneka Sandher

  Cover photographs © Stephen Mulcahey / Arcangel Images (woman); Shutterstock.com

  The moral right of Asia Mackay to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright,

  Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978–1–78576–566–7

  Paperbook ISBN: 978–1–78576–564–3

  This ebook was produced by IDSUK (Data Connection) Ltd

  Zaffre is an imprint of Bonnier Books UK

  www.bonnierbooks.co.uk