The Marriage

by K. L. Slater

I picked up my phone and opened Sunday’s article in the Daily Mail again. I’d been really pleased with how the newspaper had portrayed us and they’d made a generous donation to Young Men Matter for the interview. We both looked great in the photograph, and I thought they’d written sensitively and intelligently about our relationship.

  I scrolled down past the article and the sensationalist story adverts to the comments section.

  Good luck to them both. They look good together.

  They deserve happiness. Best of luck to them.

  A warm glow started in my chest, allaying my silly fears and insecurities about Tom going to the gym. We did look good together and we were going to be very happy.

  I scanned the next few comments and the glow quickly faded.

  Sick. How can you love someone who killed your kid?

  Man, she’s old enough 2b his mother!

  He’s so hot … why on earth is he with a wrinkly woman nearly twice his age??

  People were so judgemental. They probably had such sad little lives they detested seeing others happy. There were plenty of folk out there like that, Jill Billinghurst being a prime example. In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if one or more of the anonymous derogatory comments was from her. Little did she know the stuff that was happening behind her own back. She’d soon have far more important problems to deal with than worrying about her precious son.

  I reached for the make-up mirror on my bedside table and studied my face. Tom had thrown the curtains open when he got up, and the sun streamed in, cruelly highlighting all my faults and flaws. I turned my head this way and that. Sunlight aside, there was no doubt about it. The lines from my nose to my mouth were deepening despite the monthly anti-ageing facial I’d had religiously since I turned forty-five. I had no frown lines thanks to my three-month Botox appointments, and my cheeks had the perky plumpness of youth courtesy of facial filler, but … Maybe I was meant to see those horrible comments. Perhaps the cruel reactions had actually done me a favour and this was a sign it was time to take my anti-ageing measures that little bit further.

  I closed the article and threw down my phone, pulling the covers up over my head and curling up on my side. Bile rose in my throat. Sometimes fighting off the signs of ageing felt like trying to hold back the tide. It didn’t matter how vigilant you became; the lines, the wrinkles, the dryness, the loss of elasticity crept up on you like weeds in the garden. How must it feel to not bother? To be so happy in your own skin you accepted the way you looked?

  I allowed myself five minutes of misery and then shook it off.

  I texted Coral and asked her to call round at the house before she went to work. I hadn’t spoken to her since the disastrous dinner party, but I got a reply back right away.

  When’s best to call?

  Her obviously curt tone irked me, but I tapped out my reply.

  This morning at 11.30?

  See you then.

  There were some uncomfortable things that needed saying. I felt like we’d reached a bit of a crossroads in our relationship. I didn’t care if I never set eyes on Coral again, but I had Ellis to think of and I wouldn’t compromise my contact with him for anything or anyone.

  I ran a moisturising bubble bath and applied an expensive Clarins firming and nourishing face treatment and tried to forget about Tom ogling fit young women at the gym.

  * * *

  I opened the front door to Coral a couple of hours later. She wore baggy leggings and an old sweatshirt covered in paint stains. She had made zero effort to make herself look even half-decent. It spoke volumes about how little she’d come to respect me.

  I made her a cold drink and she sat sipping it, scrolling through her phone, sniggering at various posts she came across.

  ‘Coral, for God’s sake put that away for a few minutes, will you?’

  She looked at me and tutted with disapproval. ‘Don’t treat me like I’m at school and you’re my teacher. It’s really irritating.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s irritating,’ I said, instantly breaking my promise to myself not to get annoyed. ‘Irritating is you using your spare key to let yourself in here and dump Ellis any time it’s convenient so you can go off and do your own thing. Like you did the other day.’

  ‘Do my own thing?’ Coral said, doing a good job of acting the offended innocent. ‘You said to bring him over here for tea!’

  I tried to keep a check on my temper, but it pushed to get out. ‘What you do with your own life is your business, Coral, but I’m concerned Ellis is spending too much time on his own. The only interaction he gets seems to be through one of his devices.’

  ‘You know, that would be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad and upsetting.’ Her eyes glinted peevishly. ‘You seem to worry about everything but the thing that’s actually affecting him and causing him harm.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

  ‘Do I have to spell it out? One minute Ellis is your whole life; the next, you’ve married the man who battered his dad to death. How do you think that might be affecting him?’

  ‘It was one punch, hardly a vicious battering,’ I retorted through clenched teeth. ‘I’ve had long talks with Ellis about Tom and me getting married, as you know. I’ve told him he’s free to ask me any questions or chat more as and when he feels the need.’

  ‘You only told us a few days before Tom got out; there’s been no time to get used to it. And there’s the age thing, too. Tom could be your son, think about that. Think about how that cringey newspaper interview you’ve done might make Ellis feel … his nanny and her toy boy! That’s what the kids are spreading around his school, do you know that?’

  I winced. It was a low blow. ‘Tom is an adult and Ellis wouldn’t even give our age gap a thought if—’

  ‘Other people do, though! Are you so out of it you haven’t thought about the gossiping that’s happening around town? You must have seen it online, the sniping, the revulsion that you’ve married your son’s killer. People are sickened. You’re holed up in your nice house away from it all, but we have to live in the real world.’

  I felt a flutter of nerves at what she was saying. I’d seen a few nasty comments but not full-blown gossip on social media. I’d been busy though. With Tom. Still, I wasn’t about to let her see I had any concerns.

  ‘Our marriage is nobody’s business. Not yours, not the kids at school. Not bloody Facebook’s. I’ll speak to the head teacher if it’s a problem for Ellis.’

  ‘I’ve already spoken to her,’ Coral said smugly. ‘She rang to tell me that Ellis has been in trouble at school again.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ My fingers fluttered to my throat. We’d had some behavioural problems with Ellis about a year ago. They’d had a ‘father and son day’ at school last autumn and he’d got quite down about the fact he’d never known his dad. He said some of the other boys made nasty comments and he’d reacted by bunking off lessons or asking to use the bathroom and then not returning to class. Mrs Cresswell, the head, was very understanding and got Ellis some help from the school counsellor. But it sounded like he’d started his old tricks again.

  ‘Is someone bothering him?’ I asked, feeling knotted up inside. I’d love to go down there and bang some heads together.

  ‘Ellis has been picking on a new boy.’

  ‘Bullying him, you mean?’

  ‘Not directly, he got another boy to do it. Very nasty, actually, and it has to stop.’ Coral looked resolved. ‘You might as well know, I’ve spoken to both Mrs Cresswell and the school counsellor. They agree that for now, it might be best if I protect Ellis from your new relationship with Tom. It’s too much for him to deal with, Bridget.’

  ‘Oh really?’ I felt heat rising inside me. Coral and the school talking about my business and how it might be affecting Ellis. ‘Protect him how, exactly? We’re married, and everybody has to deal with that, including Ellis.’

  ‘I think you’re rushing Ellis. It’s too much, too soon, and it’s s
tarted to affect him at school.’

  ‘You don’t know that! None of you do, it’s guesswork.’

  Coral hesitated. ‘I don’t want to fall out about this, Bridget, but I think it’s best Ellis has a break from coming here. For a little while.’

  ‘No way.’ I slammed a hand down on the arm of the sofa. ‘Ellis can handle it if only you’d stop treating him like a five-year-old. I’ll have another chat with him; leave it with me.’

  ‘That’s the point, though, he can’t handle it. His behaviour proves that. It’s too much pressure for him. He acts tough, but he’s just a kid.’

  ‘In your opinion! I don’t need to remind you that I can and will make your life difficult if I have to.’

  Coral remained infuriatingly calm, which wasn’t like her at all. One threat of removing the privileges I paid for and she was usually sucking up to me big-time. Not today.

  ‘You marrying Tom has made everything so complicated. Why can’t you admit that? Whether you like it or not, Ellis needs a little space.’

  Everything I had been through, the effort it had taken to claw my way out of the black bog that had threatened to finish me when Jesse died … there was no way I was going to let Coral McKinty dictate to me. She and Jesse had only been dating a year when he died, and as far as I knew, it hadn’t been a serious relationship. If it hadn’t been for the fact she was pregnant with Ellis, I’d happily never have seen her again.

  ‘It’s not at all complicated, Coral; it’s actually very easy. Ellis is my grandson and there will never be a time when I tell him to stay away from his home.’ I waved a hand around the room. ‘That’s what this place is. Ellis’s home.’

  ‘No, this is your home, Bridget. Yours and Tom’s. Ellis’s home is with me. I’m his mother, remember?’

  ‘Do not continue with this, because if you do, you will lose. I guarantee you that.’

  She was mocking in her response. ‘Oh, let me guess. You’re about to remind me how you pay my rent and allocate me an allowance each month.’

  I burned with resentment at her bare-faced ingratitude. ‘All of that is true.’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she yelled. ‘I think about it every day because you never let me forget it. But enough is enough. You think slipping me the odd few quid gives you the right to speak to me like dirt. Well, soon I’m not going to need your money.’

  She sucked air in as if she’d let out something she shouldn’t. The words hung in the air.

  ‘And why’s that then? Are you going to actually get yourself a full-time job like the rest of us instead of a few hours in that crappy restaurant?’

  ‘That’s a low blow!’ she hissed. ‘I’d lose my benefits if I did more hours.’

  ‘Maybe. But there’s no reason you can’t work and support yourself. You’re not ill and Ellis is fairly self-sufficient now.’

  She hesitated. ‘Yes, I’m getting a full-time job.’ She was a terrible liar. Fidgeting, blinking too fast. All the signs were there. ‘I want you to stop treating Ellis like he’s your son, not mine.’

  ‘He’s one step away from it.’ I took great pains to keep calm when it would have been easy to throw her out of the house. ‘Ellis is all I have left of Jesse, and he isn’t yours to take away.’

  Coral’s face lost its fury and her voice softened, almost to a plea. ‘Look, I want to live my own life, Bridget. One where you’re not looking over my shoulder, telling me how to raise my son. Dictating what I should do and how to do it when it comes to Ellis. You’ve put me off dating for years because you don’t want another man around him, and then you bring Tom into his life. How hypocritical is that? I want a life!’

  ‘Well, let me help you with that,’ I snapped back. ‘Have your life, and you can fund it yourself too.’

  ‘Fine!’ she said tartly. ‘It’s time I stood on my own two feet anyway. I’m sick to death of your charity.’ She seemed to stand up straighter as she drew on some hidden reserve of confidence. ‘Whether you like it or not, Ellis won’t be coming around here for a while. He doesn’t cope well with being in the same vicinity as Tom. He’s told me about you sending Tom to school to walk home with him, and yet you know how bitter Ellis feels about him.’

  ‘It’s not your decision to make. Ellis is old enough to—’

  ‘It is my decision, though. I’m his mother.’

  ‘I’ll take you to court. I’ll get a court order stating I can see him, I’ll—’

  ‘Don’t try to scare me with that empty threat, you have no legal right to see him, you know that. It’s my decision and that’s what’s happening.’ She turned and walked to the door, and I found myself wondering where all this new-found confidence had suddenly appeared from. ‘I’m sorry, Bridget, but you decided to marry Tom without a thought for Ellis’s feelings, and now you’ve forced me to protect him.’

  Before I could respond, she’d left the house. The worst thing was, I knew she’d spoken the truth. As a grandparent, I had no real rights in the eyes of the law. As Ellis’s mother, Coral was legally responsible for him.

  I burned with fury. I should have let her slide after Jesse’s death. When she was unable to cope, I could have applied for custody of Ellis. I’d made a terrible mistake in neglecting to safeguard my connection to my grandson.

  Coral had the upper hand and she knew it. Unless I did something radical, I’d be left with the possibility of losing Ellis altogether.

  I wouldn’t let that happen. I’d do anything it took to ensure she didn’t restrict me seeing him.

  In the meantime, it was someone else’s turn to suffer. I had a secret to reveal.

  Thirty-Two

  Jill

  After seeing the photo shrine to Jesse in Bridget’s house and now the publicity-grabbing interview in the newspaper, I found myself battling a growing sense of unease.

  I knew I had to find something to distract me, to stop me going crazy.

  Tom was a grown man, but he was naïve when it came to women, particularly someone as manipulative and determined as Bridget.

  Nobody else seemed the least bit concerned about this, including Tom himself. I needed something solid to convince him Bridget wasn’t genuine.

  On Saturday afternoon, I’d made a couple of appointments in the interests of looking after myself again. I’d also arranged for the local handyman, Joel, who’d freshened up the hallway to come over and fit me some shelving. When he arrived on Monday morning, portly and jolly in his tan canvas dungarees and hobnail boots, I explained to Joel what I wanted and left him to it. He’d done work for us over the years and I trusted him implicitly.

  ‘Lock up when you’ve finished and pop this back through the letterbox,’ I told him, handing him a spare door key. Robert had student appointments all day until late so I knew Joel would be left to work undisturbed.

  When I got out to the car, movement behind the trellis fence caught my eye. ‘Hello, Jill, everything alright?’ It was Nazreen. ‘It’s just … we saw Tom in the paper.’

  She raised her eyebrows and waited. If she was hoping I’d spill the beans on Tom and Bridget’s relationship then she would be sorely disappointed.

  ‘Yes. Hope you’re OK, Naz. I’m so sorry but I have an appointment in town. Catch up soon!’ As I reversed off the drive I caught the annoyance on her face. Since Tom’s release, I’d noticed more neighbours than ever before walking slowly by our house and looking in, as though I might rush out and spill all the juicy gossip.

  I visited a new hairdresser in the middle of town. Swanky and twice as expensive as Fiona, the mobile hairdresser who’d popped over to the house every few months to give me a cut and colour for the last ten years. I was lucky enough to get a cancellation. A slim young man with a ring in his bottom lip introduced himself as Andre and asked me what I’d like him to do.

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ I said. ‘Surprise me.’

  We had a ‘consultation’, which sounded fancy but was actually a quick chat. ‘I would suggest a cropped bob
with some discreet caramel highlights pulled through to soften the face,’ Andre said, talking with his hands. ‘How does that sound?’

  ‘That sounds perfect,’ I said, more confidently than I felt. ‘Let’s do it.’

  I watched my transformation in the mirror, and at the end of it I was very, very happy. I not only looked pleasantly different but, I thought, younger and trendier. Next, I called into Boots and stopped by a few make-up counters. I emerged an hour later with a bag full of brand-new cosmetics that I’d been shown exactly how to use by the beauty counter staff.

  As I came out of the shop, I bumped, quite literally, into Tom’s old primary school teacher, Mavis Threadgold, and her little dog.

  ‘I’m so sorry, dear,’ she said, stepping back and pulling on the lead. ‘I saw you in the hairdresser and walked back with Harry here to catch you when you left … then you disappeared into the chemist.’

  ‘Oh! Well, here I am,’ I said. It seemed a little odd that she’d been skulking around, watching where I went. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m fine. I wondered if you had time for a quick chat.’ She nodded over the road to a small, grassed area with a wooden bench.

  She was obviously a bit lonely, and I was in no rush. It might actually be nice to reminisce about when Tom was younger.

  ‘Very nice, by the way,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Your hair. Very modern.’

  ‘Oh yes, thanks. I wanted something neat and easy to maintain.’ I patted my hair self-consciously, hoping I hadn’t gone too far with the caramel highlights. It was quite dramatic compared to my usual flat brown. I felt nervous about what Robert might say, and then a twinge of annoyance at myself for feeling nervous. I’d done it for me, not for Robert.

  We crossed the high street and headed for the bench, where Harry sniffed around our feet. The grass was well maintained, with a footpath meandering through it and small circular flower beds dotted here and there. It was surprising how peaceful it felt when the hustle and bustle of the town was so close. It was a dry, fine day but cold, as you might expect, in late October.