by Jennie Ensor
A lump came to her throat. If only Laura’s life was as happy as Debbie’s.
She took off her cardigan, put on a blouse, and retouched her lipstick.
Downstairs, the table was set for dinner. A vase of vivid red and yellow tulips stood in the centre. At each end, white dinner candles flickered. Suzanne sat at the place that had been laid for her, opposite David.
Katherine poured the wine. ‘Tuck in, guys. No need to be polite.’
David enthused about his latest project: converting his shed into an art studio. Suzanne pecked at her food. She wasn’t in the mood for talking.
‘What are the women like, at your firm?’ Katherine asked David, during a lull in the conversation, with a teasing smile. ‘Any talent there?’
‘I told you, Kate, I’m steering clear of women at the moment.’
‘I thought you said your divorce didn’t leave you bitter and twisted,’ Katherine continued playfully.
Suzanne put down her fork. Divorce. The word was so bleak, so final. If she left Paul, what would happen to her? Would she end up skittering between dating websites and meet-up groups like some of her divorced friends? How would she cope with the loneliness? How would she begin to rebuild her life?
She stared at the tulips. They were glorious. Yet within a week they’d be wilting, ready to be thrown away.
‘I don’t know how I’ll live without Paul,’ she said.
Katherine blinked at her, mouth open.
David spoke softly, as if to himself.
‘You think it’s the end of the world, when your marriage ends, but it’s not. It’s a new start, another chance to be happy.’
He didn’t know how she felt. He couldn’t possibly.
David’s eyes met hers. They seemed to contain the strength that she lacked, the assurance that she didn’t have. ‘You’re going to leave him, aren’t you?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, without hesitation. ‘I’m going to leave him.’
No one spoke; it shocked her too, but she would manage. Somehow.
‘Good on you, love,’ Katherine said.
Suzanne searched her pockets for a tissue. ‘I’m sorry about this.’
Katherine dabbed at her own eyes with a finger. ‘I’ll get the Kleenex.’
David stood, his arms open. ‘How about a hug?’
Although she hardly knew him, she didn’t hesitate. This was right. His arms enclosed her with a light pressure. She felt his heart beating and his warmth, and wished this simple touch could go on forever.
24
Laura
30 April 2011
A sluggish light slipped through the curtains. Laura raised her head from the pillow. A bee in her ear? No, someone was at the door. She turned over, hoping whoever it was would go away. Her dream caught mid-frame, trapped in her head.
A younger version of herself, holding Emma’s hand, walking towards the front door of her childhood home. The front door is on the latch. No one seems to be in, it is so quiet. They go upstairs. We can play in my room, she’s thinking, out of everyone’s way. She pushes open her bedroom door.
He is there. Lying on her bed.
‘Come in, girls,’ says her dream father, pulling back the covers, ‘climb in beside me.’
Laura shuddered. The front door buzzed again then her mobile rang. She sat up and gulped some water, tested the firmness of the floor.
‘Hi, I’m outside, can you let me in?’ It was her brother’s voice.
She buzzed him in and went to put on her dressing gown and her slippers.
‘Hiya, sis. Sorry to wake you up. I didn’t mean to get you out of bed.’
Her brother put down his bag and bent to hug her. He was wearing a sweater over jeans. She noticed how broad he was across the chest, how big and capable he seemed.
‘It’s alright, it’s time I was up. I’ll make some coffee.’
‘I phoned an hour ago but there was no answer. I’m in London to see some friends, thought I’d drop by.’
Daniel sat on the only stool in the kitchen while she dried some mugs.
‘Still working at the nightclub?’
‘No, I don’t work there anymore.’
‘What happened?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Did they sack you?’
‘No, I left. It wasn’t the right place for me.’
‘That’s probably a good idea, you know.’ There was a serious note in his voice. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind. No words came out though. ‘So, what are you going to do now?’
‘I might have found something. I had an interview yesterday.’ A job agency had rung her earlier in the week, out of the blue, and said they’d got an unusual role and it looked like the perfect opportunity for her. ‘This woman is writing a book about archaeology – the latest Roman finds in Britain – she’s getting on a bit and can’t see too well, and then she was hurt in an accident. She wants someone to help with the research – read to her, help her with interviews, go to places with her.’ It was the first job she’d gone for where the interviewer had shown the slightest interest in the modules she’d taken on ancient civilisations, not to mention the first job where her knowledge had been relevant; the first job for which she’d had any enthusiasm, full stop.
‘Hmm, that doesn’t sound like you, sis. Helping an old biddy.’ A mischievous smile.
‘I went to see her at her flat in Earls Court. I couldn’t get her to stop talking. We spent an hour chatting about my history course at Durham, then another hour on the ancient Minoans. She loves all that stuff too.’
‘Fingers crossed you get it then.’
She put a cup of coffee in front of her brother and sipped hers, standing with her back against the sink. Daniel tapped his foot against the metal legs of the stool. He seemed distracted.
‘The reason I came by … I was wondering if you might know what’s going on with Mum and Dad? I called the house last night and Dad answered the phone. He sounded really down. He’s been on his own at home since last Tuesday. Mum’s gone to stay with her friend and he doesn’t know when she’s coming back—’
‘Yes, I know.’
He looked at her sharply. ‘What’s going on, Laura? I asked Dad why she’d gone and he said to ask Mum. But Mum wouldn’t say. She just said she needed to be away from him, she’d explain it all later. Have they had a fight or something?’
This was the moment she’d been dreading. What was she going to say? She turned away so he couldn’t see her face.
‘You know what’s going on,’ he said, ‘don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. Some of it is to do with me.’
‘To do with you?’
‘Dan, I don’t know what to say. Maybe it’s better you don’t know.’
She wanted so much to tell him. But how could she shatter his existence in one moment? Daniel was getting on much better with Dad these days. The two seemed to have a lot more to talk about, he’d told her. He’d taken up sailing too, like their father. Last summer, the two of them had spent hours together – tinkering about on boats, drinking beer, talking man to man. What right did she have to spoil all that for him?
‘What you tell me is up to you, I guess.’ Daniel waited, holding her gaze. ‘But I’m part of this family too, aren’t I? Don’t I have a right to know what’s going on?’
‘OK,’ she replied, putting down her cup. ‘I’ll tell you what he did to me.’
On cue, the fridge stopped its thunderous drone. She began her story, trying to keep her voice calm. How her father had started touching her in the garden, and downstairs in the house, and then how he’d started coming into her room. How he’d warned her not to tell anyone. Daniel sat rigid, staring at her, not saying a word and ignoring his coffee.
‘I kept it to myself for a long time. I didn’t even tell Mum until last Sunday.’ She swallowed the stickiness in her throat. It had clogged up, wouldn’t let any more words out. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything to her. But I had to.’
‘Why?’
<
br /> ‘Because …’ Her heart thudded.
‘Because, what?’
‘A twelve-year-old girl has accused Dad of having sex with her.’
‘Shit, Laura. You’re kidding me, aren’t you?’
Daniel’s face was pale, his mouth hanging open. She felt sorry for him; he wanted her to say it was all a joke.
‘What girl? Who are you talking about?’
‘Remember Jane, Mum’s friend? It was Emma, Jane’s daughter. She told Jane what he did to her and Jane told Mum. Mum didn’t believe it at first, but later he admitted it to her.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Daniel, I’m sorry. You said you wanted to know.’
The fridge sputtered back into life. Daniel looked at the floor for a long time before speaking.
‘Jesus. I know Dad acted a bit unhinged at times when we were growing up, hey, most of the time, but what you’re telling me … you’re saying he screwed this girl? That’s totally unbelievable.’
His head drooped over his shoulders. Finally, he looked at her.
‘Look, Laura, I’ll have to go or I’ll be late for my meeting.’ He scraped back his stool and got to his feet. His untouched cup of coffee where she’d placed it. ‘I’ll call you soon.’
Laura followed her brother to the front door. He didn’t kiss her goodbye, and just let himself out without looking back. She went back to the kitchen and dumped the two cups in the sink with a clatter.
Oh, fuck. What have you done?
Dismay grew inside her. What had been the point of that? She kicked the fridge to make it shut up. The whine of a vacuum cleaner started next door, too loud. She pressed her nose against the kitchen window. A thin drizzle had begun.
Her thoughts began to pile up, each one darker than the one before.
Everything had been tainted by what her father had done. He had betrayed Emma, despite his claim that he would never think of harming her. In doing so, he’d betrayed every one of his family. Her mother. Her brother. Herself.
Her mouth was dry, her heart was beating too fast. A pool of anger welled inside her. She knew it then, as much as she’d ever known anything: her father wasn’t going to get the better of her. He wasn’t going to win this game.
25
Suzanne
Morning, 4 May 2011
As Katherine’s car turned into Elgin Drive, Suzanne noticed that the rambling, pale pink house on the corner had a For Sale sign outside. It wasn’t there when she’d left home last week. The lower room’s curtains were shut too, hiding the usual sight of a grand piano and shelves stacked with books. She wondered what had happened to Della, the woman in her mid-sixties who’d been living there alone in the months since her divorce. Had she finally moved in with her son, as she’d said she might have to? Or found a retirement flat?
Her own future was as bleak, perhaps.
Suzanne lowered her head. With each second, her resolve was eroding. In its place, trepidation, and something else – beyond fear. It was like that cold panic she’d felt years ago on her only attempt at abseiling. The ground had been a mere fifty feet below, yet it could have been thirty miles.
She clenched the hand on her lap into a fist. Time to face him. It was going to happen; it was too late to call a halt to it. Soon, she would have to take that first step backwards off the cliff and pray that the rope would hold her.
Katherine pulled up outside number 31. The house peered back, its face unwelcoming. The hedge was badly in need of a trim – its straggly top almost obscured the lower windows. This meant, she realised, that Katherine wouldn’t be able to see into the living room. But her friend would be close enough, should anything happen. And they had both made sure to bring their mobiles.
‘Here you are, madam. That’ll be twenty pounds, please.’
‘Thanks, Kat.’ Suzanne unbuckled her seat belt, unable to raise a smile. ‘See you soon.’
‘Good luck, kiddo.’ Katherine’s hand warmed her own. ‘Remember to come out straight away if you feel unsafe.’
Suzanne glanced at her face in the rear-view mirror. She looked haggard, the skin around her eyes purple and puffy from lack of sleep. She reached for her handbag and stepped out of the car. As she did so, her last strands of courage strained to hold. What if Paul got angry with her? What if he tried to stop her from leaving?
His Porsche was parked across the driveway, as shiny as ever. She opened the front gate and walked down the path. A clutch of orange poppies in the flowerbed caught her eye, incongruously bright. She pressed the doorbell.
Paul opened the door. In just three days his face was thinner, his hair greyer, and the lines across his brow deeper. A thick layer of stubble sprouted from his jaw – he hadn’t been going to work, presumably. Nothing had ever got in the way of work before.
‘Hello, Paul.’
He was wearing the sweater she’d given him for Christmas – was he trying to win her sympathy? It wouldn’t work, if he was. This time, she wasn’t going to let him crawl back into her heart.
‘Suzanne, I’m so glad you’ve come.’ He sounded hopeful, even a little excited. Surely, he wasn’t expecting a loving reunion?
She gave him a warning look. ‘I’m not staying long. Katherine’s waiting outside, she’s giving me a lift back.’ She stepped into the hall and he closed the door. The house was silent.
‘I was having a beer. Can I get you anything?’
She’d become a visitor in her own home. ‘No thanks.’ She scanned the kitchen. ‘Where’s Marmaduke?’
He shrugged. ‘He was here earlier.’
‘Have you been feeding him?’
‘I put food out for him and he turns his nose up at it. I threw away the last lot after the flies got to it.’
Marmaduke would be missing her, she thought with a pang of guilt.
He opened the living room door. ‘Come and sit down. I need to tell you something.’
She sat stiffly on an armchair.
Paul, standing against the sideboard, cleared his throat.
‘You have to forgive me, darling,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry for what I’ve done.’
She stared at him. His voice sounded small.
‘I know what I did was wrong. I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, every single day. If only you knew—’
‘How can you say that?’ It wasn’t enough, this hollow apology. He thought he could make everything right by saying the right words. ‘I’ll never understand how you could have done what you did. You really pulled the wool over my eyes, didn’t you? You fooled me into believing I could trust you. You fooled me about everything. I thought you loved me. When we made love, I thought it was for real. I thought—’ The words caught in her throat. ‘I thought it meant the same to you.’
‘Suze, I love you. I’ve always loved you. You must believe me. What happened with Laura and Emma. It was like something took me over. It was so strong, I couldn’t—’
‘You couldn’t keep your hands off them, could you?’ She spat out the words. ‘You don’t need to explain.’
He seemed to shrink before her. ‘I know, I disgust you. I have no right to ask your forgiveness.’
‘I can’t forgive you, Paul.’
He seemed not to have heard. ‘I’m asking for one last chance. I swear I’ll never do anything like that again.’
She had a vision of herself, in twenty years’ time, with sagging skin and aching joints, living alone in some cramped flat, waiting for the phone to ring and her children to visit. But it wasn’t enough.
‘I’m sorry, it’s too late. Our marriage is over. I want a divorce.’
He turned his head away to look out of the window; she couldn’t see his face. All she could hear was the solitary tweet, tweet, tweet of a baby bird in the front garden. When he turned back to her, his eyes glistened.
‘I love you, Suzanne.’
It took a few seconds before she was able to speak.
‘You love me? You have a funny way of showin
g it. You do those disgusting things to our daughter, and my friend’s daughter.’ Her voice faltered. She couldn’t draw in enough air. ‘Then you expect me to put it aside like everything else, and carry on as if nothing’s happened? Well, I can’t. I won’t.’
‘Please, Suzanne.’ Paul clutched his hands together as if he were praying.
‘I’ve made up my mind, Paul.’
His hands unclasped and his eyes fell away from hers. A muscle above his mouth moved. He seemed defeated. Finally, he spoke.
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to stay with Katherine for a few weeks. I’ll go to a solicitor. We’ll have to sell the house, I suppose.’ Suzanne stood and walked towards the door. Her composure wouldn’t hold out. ‘We can discuss the details later. I’m going upstairs to pack some things.’
Their bed was unmade. Towards the middle, a single crumpled pillow. She slid open the wardrobe door and stared at the array of clothes inside, resisting the urge to flop on the bed and howl. Leaving Paul was like chopping off her own hand: there was no painless way to extract him.
When she came downstairs with a suitcase, he was waiting in the hall, and as she put it down he came towards her. She prepared herself for a last show of defiance.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all he said.
Katherine opened the car door for her. ‘How did it go, love?’
Suzanne stumbled inside and sat staring through the windscreen. She couldn’t look at her friend. So many emotions jostled inside her – relief, exhaustion and, most of all, disappointment. An acrid disappointment that made her throat ache. It couldn’t end like this. Paul had been everything to her. After twenty-five years together, it couldn’t end like this.
