by K. L. Slater
Robert was scathing about my inability to cope. I’d never anticipated losing my confidence as quickly, allowing my self-esteem to be eroded by my husband in a clever sort of way. It didn’t seem like he was doing anything at all. The seemingly innocent comments about the way I looked, the programmes I watched on television. At the time, I chastised myself for being over-sensitive. And yet, compounded over years, those remarks and spiteful observations somehow gathered a sort of dreadful power that undermined and belittled me in a way that was hard to describe. I suppose it amounted to a feeling of not being worthy, not being good enough. Of falling short on every single level.
On better days, I flirted with the idea that I might get myself a little job, much to Robert’s concern.
‘The thing is, Jill, things move on. Systems, procedures … they’re likely to be unrecognisable to you after all this time. Think of the work involved in getting up to speed again! I think your anxiety would be sky high in no time at all. I really do,’ he’d say regretfully and I’d agree with him. The thought of starting again in a completely new environment, of having some impatient young person straight out of university having to show me what to do felt like the ultimate humiliation. It was far safer and more comfortable to stay at home.
But Robert still wasn’t happy when I considered going back to the library service.
‘These days, libraries are full of technology rather than the books you love. They’ll spot you’re a bag of nerves a mile off. You’ll end up making some dreadful error and crashing the whole IT system or something equally horrendous.’
His careless comments hit home. I would probably do something just like that. Pressing a button that would have devastating consequences, or managing to lose some historic tome through my dated and incompetent indexing skills.
In the end, I ditched the idea of returning to my career and visited the doctor instead to explain the anxiousness and the black moods that constantly hovered above me. He’d glanced at his watch and prescribed a list of medication that I’d been taking ever since.
Audrey was my saviour. She eventually persuaded me to work a few hours at the shop, and slowly, things started to improve slightly. Years before Tom was due to be released, I began planning the ways I might help him when he eventually came home.
‘It’s a bit early to start all this, if you ask me,’ Audrey said.
Now, I understood she had a point. She was trying to save me from a crushing disappointment. ‘You have to live in the moment rather than constantly looking to the future’ was one of her regular pieces of advice.
But what she didn’t realise, what nobody seemed to realise, was that obsessively planning for Tom’s homecoming was my antidote to the raw hopelessness I felt every hour of the day.
Half-heartedly, I began to whisk the eggs again. A couple of days ago, we were preparing to collect Tom and bring him home. I’d expected my life to look and feel very different by now. But this new situation felt like a fresh sort of hell.
I should have been preparing a family meal, not an omelette for one. I’d imagined people popping by to say hi. Me joking I hadn’t a moment to spare. Instead, I’d made an appointment with the doctor because I felt like my tablets weren’t helping.
I drizzled olive oil into the small frying pan and turned up the heat. Some people might say my disappointment was selfish. But it wasn’t myself I wanted to cry for; my concern was for Tom, and the future he was putting in such grave jeopardy.
When he went to prison, he had a lot of local support. People around here knew the circumstances of Jesse’s death. Our neighbours all asked about him when they found out it was close to his release date. They knew that Tom was an honest, steady sort of guy whereas Jesse was always more volatile. Given time, Tom would have easily fitted in again and begun to build a new life. Was it too much to ask to think he might’ve got married and had a couple of children in the coming years? It was hardly an outlandish fantasy.
When it came down to it, I just wanted my son back home. I wanted Tom here where he belonged. I wanted to look after him, be useful … have a worthwhile function again. An old-fashioned view maybe, but was that such a terrible crime?
I heard the front door open and rushed out, thinking that Robert had gone out without saying anything. I stopped dead in my tracks as my son walked in, clutching the front door key I’d given him. He was alone.
‘Tom!’ I whispered as he closed the door behind him. It felt as though I had conjured him up with the strength of my thoughts. Our bond was still so strong.
‘We need to talk, Mum,’ he said in an ominous tone. ‘There are important things I need to discuss with you.’
I looked at his face, his serious expression, his furrowed brow. I felt my burst of hope drain away from me. I dreaded what might come next.
Nineteen
Tom
Jill offered to make a hot drink, but Tom asked for a glass of water. They sat on the kitchen sofa and Jill stared wordlessly out at the garden.
His father must have heard him in the hallway but he never came out of the office to say hello. Typical.
Tom felt suddenly desperate to fill the awful silence.
‘I hope you’re OK, Mum. I know it was a shock.’
‘I was thinking earlier about your silver birch nights,’ she said. ‘Can you remember? You’d sit on the step and stare at the moonlight shining on the tree trunk. You really believed it was made of bone.’
‘I do remember,’ he said softly.
‘I actually spoke to your dad a couple of months ago about the garden. I said we should get someone in to give us ideas on what to do with it. You know, put some borders in and get more colour in there. The lawn’s lush now but it was always scrappy because you and Jesse would play so many ball games on there and—’
‘Mum.’ He kept his voice calm and gentle.
Jill clamped her mouth closed. Urgently, she pressed her hand to her chest as if her heart might be mere seconds away from bursting out of it.
‘I know you had a massive shock last night, but I hope you’ll accept that Bridget and I are married and—’
‘I have accepted it. I have to, don’t I?’ The tendons in her neck bulged dangerously. ‘The way I see it, I have little choice in the matter.’
‘Please let me speak, Mum, I know you’re incredibly upset. Bridget understands, you know. She says it’s natural you’ll be devastated.’
‘Of course I’m upset, it was a shock.’ She bristled at the mention of his wife. ‘It’s your choice, I know that. I do wish you’d found it in your heart to tell me on one of my visits.’ He hung his head but didn’t comment. ‘I can’t help wondering how it happened, though, how you came to marry the mother of your victim. Because regardless of the fact that you acted in self-defence, you do realise that’s what people will say? That she’s the mother of the best friend you killed.’
‘Mum. I accept it must be almost impossible for you to understand how we came to fall in love. But it didn’t happen overnight, Bridget has been visiting me for the last couple of years. The only way I can describe it is that Bridget my wife feels like someone completely different and separate to Bridget the mum of Jesse all those years ago. That seems like another life for both of us. We feel brand new to each other, if that makes sense.’
Judging by the look on his mother’s face, it didn’t make any sense to her at all.
‘I see,’ she said finally, touching her face with the back of a hand. Her cheeks looked flushed and hot.
Tom dipped his chin down and looked up at her. ‘I’m not sure you do see.’
‘If the tables were turned and I’d married Jesse, how do you think you’d be feeling about it?’
For a moment or two Tom felt nonplussed. Then he said, honestly, ‘I’d be shocked. In denial for a while, I expect.’
His words hung in the air for a few moments before Jill spoke again.
‘There’s only two years in age between Bridget and myself. I assume you know th
at, right? Two years between your mother and your new wife.’
‘Of course I know that, but it’s different somehow. Bridget, she’s so … I don’t know, young in her ways, her outlook. Do you know what I mean?’
‘Yes,’ Jill said shortly. ‘But someone closer to your own age might have given you children, for a start. Bridget is a grandmother!’
She’d told Tom on one of her earliest visits that her friend, Audrey, had heard the news that Coral had given birth to Jesse’s son.
‘I don’t want anyone else, I’m in love with Bridget, Mum. The fact that there won’t be children is a far less important consideration for me. Anyway, we have Ellis.’
‘Ellis isn’t your son, though, he’s Jesse’s!’ Jill bit her lip. ‘What I can’t understand is why you had to get married before your release. In prison, of all places! Why would you rush into marrying her instead of dating for a while … did she force your hand?’
‘Of course she didn’t, it was my idea.’
‘Did you know she’s posted a picture on Facebook of your wedding?’
Tom frowned. ‘No, I didn’t know, but … well, that’s OK, isn’t it?’
Tom hadn’t got a Facebook account yet, what with being in prison but Jill seemed to think it was a big deal.
‘I can’t understand why you had to get married in secret,’ she said again, petulantly.
Tom sighed. ‘Because of exactly this. The way you’re behaving. We knew people would disapprove. We knew you’d try and stop us.’
‘Just me?’
‘Everyone. Ellis’s mum, Coral … she’s giving Bridget a hard time about it too, and the boy won’t even look at me yet.’
‘Well, I can understand that. Jesse was Coral’s partner and Ellis’s father, after all. The lad is young to have to deal with you being in his face all of a sudden.’
Tom swept a hand towards her. ‘This is exactly it, you see. Everybody has an opinion about us, about what we’ve done. But we’re married now. We made our commitment to each other because against the odds, we fell in love. I don’t want some clueless girl my own age. I want Bridget. Someone strong, who has a bit of life experience. Someone who understands everything I’ve been through.’
Tom had never possessed Jesse’s confidence when it came to girls. He’d been on a handful of dates but had found them torturous because he’d been so nervous and tongue-tied. Instead, he’d immersed himself in boxing. ‘I’ve no time for dating,’ had been his stock reply if anyone asked.
His mother tried another angle. ‘I worry that Bridget comes with a lot of baggage. If Jesse had gone to prison for causing your death, I’d never want to see him again, never mind marry him!’
‘Well, you and Bridget are very different people, Mum,’ he said mildly. ‘Bridget found it in her heart to forgive me before we even fell in love, and that shows what an amazing person she is.’
Jill fell silent for a few moments and looked away, as if she was deciding whether to say something. When she looked back at him, she sounded resolved.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Tom, but it needs saying. You’ve been in prison for ten years, living a very limited life. Bridget has been out in the big wide world, building her charity, achieving a lot of things, it seems. How easy do you think it would be for her to convince you that you have a future together while underneath she still despises you for the fact that Jesse isn’t here any more?’
‘We’ve been totally open and honest with each other.’ Tom ran his hand through his hair, wondering how long he had to keep saying the same things in a different way to try and get through. ‘Bridget admitted she felt like she hated me for a long time, but now she understands I never meant to hurt Jesse. That what happened almost destroyed me too.’
‘What if Bridget’s only motive is to ruin you, to get revenge for Jesse’s death? If she poured all her efforts into that, how would you know until it was too late?’
The idea was so ludicrous he wanted to laugh, but he managed to keep his face straight. ‘Thanks to the restorative justice programme, we’ve done far more talking than if we’d just dated. I know Bridget inside out, Mum, and she knows me. Our love is strong and deep. All this rubbish about revenge, it’s not real. It’s only in your head. Bridget’s already shown her commitment and faith in me in other ways. One of the things I came here to tell you is that I’m going to be working at the charity, making new contacts and bringing in donations.’
‘You’ve never expressed any interest in that sort of work before.’
Tom shrugged, irked that she was unimpressed. ‘I’ve never had the opportunity before, and it beats some crummy job working in a library.’
He instantly regretted the snipe as her face fell.
‘Sorry, Mum. I shouldn’t have—’
‘It’s fine.’ Jill waved his comment away. ‘I’m only going to say this once, but it has to be done. I have to be sure you understand.’
‘Huh?’
‘This marriage can be annulled, Tom. I’ve googled it, you’ve only to say the word and we can go and see a solicitor. If you’d felt forced into marrying her, they’d have to—’
He stood up. ‘Right. I’m going now, I—’
‘No, please!’ Jill shot up and grabbed his arms. ‘I had to say it, I had to. I won’t repeat it, I promise. I do want you to be happy. It’s just … I honestly worry that you’ve made a huge mistake.’
He sighed and sat back down again.
‘You’ll see, Mum. Everyone will see how happy we are together, I’m asking you to give it time.’ He reached for Jill’s hand and she let him take it. Her fingers felt warm and dry. ‘I know you only want the best for me, but you can have your own life back now. You and Dad can do all the things you’ve been wanting to do together.’
‘But—’
‘Please, Mum. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’ Being in this house was squeezing the life out of him. He needed to go home. ‘Bridget wants you to come over for dinner on Friday night if you’re free.’
Her face froze and he imagined her throat tightening. ‘That’s … unexpected.’
‘It was all her idea.’ He smiled. ‘She’s asking Coral and Ellis if they’ll come too. She desperately wants us to all get on. Please come.’
‘I’ll speak to your dad,’ she said lightly and he imagined Robert instantly looking for a way out. ‘I’m not sure he’ll be able to make it if he’s working late.’
Tom pulled a face. ‘I’d rather you came alone anyway. I don’t want him there.’
‘Tom!’
‘He doesn’t deserve you, Mum.’ He let go of her hand, battled to keep the sadness off his face. ‘I’ll tell Bridget you’ll come, anyway. She’ll be so thrilled. The house is amazing. She’s only been living there six months, I can’t wait for you to see it.’
Jill gave a small nod, seemingly unable to answer.
He gave her his mobile number and his new address before kissing her at the front door. At the bottom of the drive he turned and looked back at the house. His memories were largely unhappy here, at the mercy of his bullying father for so much of his childhood and teenage years.
His mother truly wanted the best for him and that pulled at his heartstrings. But she was wrong about Bridget. They’d been friends for many years and yet she refused to accept what a decent person his new wife was.
He and Bridget loved each other and, despite his mother’s fears, she’d never do anything to hurt him.
Tom felt certain of that.
Twenty
Bridget
Mid-week, we decided to go food shopping for Friday night’s dinner to give me plenty of time to prepare. Jill had already contacted Tom to say both she and Robert would be gracing us with their presence and I saw he was both surprised and delighted.
I’d called Coral and held out the olive branch and she’d agreed to try again and bring Ellis to the meal. I hadn’t mentioned Tom’s parents would be there. No need to complicate matters and give her an
excuse to refuse my request.
Tom drove to get some practice in and when we got back to the house, he carried in the bags. He had a spring in his step. Before going shopping, we’d called in at the charity’s offices in Nottingham city centre. A year ago we’d rented refurbished premises in a building that afforded great views over the historical market square and council house.
We didn’t stay long as I was supposed to be on annual leave for two weeks. Still, Tom was able to meet the staff and get a better overview of the work he’d be doing as our new development manager.
‘It’s a key role in our five-year business strategy,’ I explained to him as we admired the urban vista from what would be Tom’s own small but smart office. ‘Your work will make a huge difference to the business.’
He wasn’t to know I’d created the role for him and besides, it was true it would make a big difference. If he was successful at it.
He’d turned and embraced me. ‘I can’t thank you enough for the faith you’ve shown in me, Brid,’ he’d said, his voice tight with emotion. ‘Nobody’s ever really believed in me like you do and I won’t let you down.’
How I wished Jill had heard him say that. She’d always been supportive of Tom provided his goals and activities hadn’t taken him too far away from her apron strings. Anything too ambitious had been swiftly discounted without him having much of a say.
I overtook Tom on the path leading up to the house. ‘Let me get the door, you’ve got your hands full.’
‘Anyone would think we were feeding the five thousand with the amount we’ve bought,’ he laughed, grappling with the numerous bags.
‘Well, nutritious meals are complicated to prepare,’ I told him. ‘Lots of ingredients when you cook from scratch.’
