‘Understood. Let me know if anything comes up. Okay? Anything.’
‘Absolutely. We’ll get you sorted. Got to go. Sit tight for a few months. Bye.’ Isamu hung up.
Sit tight? Here?
‘Oh come on!’ She smacked her palm on the table. ‘I’ve lost the job and another client. Fucking hell!’
She sank into her chair and picked up a photograph of Rick, Millie and Danny. She’d taken it more than two years ago. They’d spent a week at the beach in Cornwall, flying kites and eating wickedly delicious mint-choc-chip ice-cream, running barefoot in the warm sand before flopping down and watching the sunlight dance on the waves. They hadn’t had a family holiday since.
Hayley looked at the photo in its porcelain frame and gently touched the green and red splodges of colour Millie’s little fingers had applied to the Mother’s Day present. She’d been so happy during that week in Cornwall. In love with her husband, with her children, with her life.
Since then I’ve become a permanent customer of Shitty Days R Us.
She sighed again, shook her head and picked up a file, ready to get to work for a client. Before she started reading her notes, she doodled Charles’ face on a yellow Post-it note and wrote ARSE underneath with thick red pen.
*
The moon was high in the sky before Hayley decided she’d better pack up her things – including work she had to do over the weekend – and head home. The air outside was cool, yet she sucked in a big lungful, hoping the damp fog would somehow have a calming effect on her. It didn’t, so she hurried down the street on the way to the tube station, her mind racing and her hands clammy. She’d hoped she’d be rushing back to share good news with Rick, that she’d brought on a new client, finally had some success at work again. They could have done with something positive, maybe they’d even have celebrated a little. Instead she’d be spending the weekend looking for a new job.
Her mobile phone rang and she fished it out of her coat pocket, her steps barely slowing.
‘Hi, Mum,’ Hayley said. At times she even surprised herself at how upbeat she could force herself to sound.
‘Hello, love. How are you? I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing. I called home but Rick said you weren’t back yet. You’re working late again. Are you okay?’
Hayley plastered a smile on her face and crossed her fingers. ‘Just on my way home. I’m fine.’
‘Really?’
‘Really. How’s Dad?’
‘We’ve had a good day today.’ Tenderness filled her mother’s voice. ‘He’s asleep now.’
‘That’s good. Mum. What about the new medicine? Any difference?’
‘No love. Even if it does help, it won’t be that quick.’
‘Not even a tiny bit?’
‘No. But it’s still early. The doctor said it takes time.’
Hayley cleared her throat as she walked down the steps to the station. ‘And you, Mum? Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘As good as I can be.’ Her mother sighed. ‘But I was calling to check up on you. Will we see you all this weekend?’
Hayley closed her eyes. ‘I’m not sure yet. I’ll try.’
‘We’d love to see you, if you can.’
‘So would we. I’ll do my best, Mum.’ Hayley’s phone crackled. ‘I’m losing the connection. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Thanks, lo–’ The line went dead.
As Hayley slipped her mobile into her pocket she pictured her father, the once strong and active man now reliant on others for physical and financial help, confined to a wheelchair.
If only I’d been there.
Rick said she shouldn’t blame herself and she knew he was probably right. But she couldn’t stop herself from wondering. Could she have done something? Would she have recognised the signs? She’d seen the F.A.S.T. adverts – Face, Arms, Speech, Time – so often. What if she’d been there?
What if?
It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.
I bet Dad would tell me how much he hates all the fuss.
Hayley smiled, genuinely this time.
And he’d have told me to sod off when we paid to make their house wheelchair accessible.
As the train arrived and started to slow down she stared at her moving reflection in the window and her smile disappeared. She felt much older than forty-two. Her face looked drawn, with bags under her eyes like overstuffed suitcases, and, thanks to the humidity, her long, brown hair had morphed into a shapeless, frizzy disaster. She got on the train, found a seat then fished an elastic band out of her bag and tried to smooth her hair into a ponytail.
I look like I’m auditioning for The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Her stomach lurched as she thought about looking for a job again. She knew all too well how hard it could be.
Especially when we’ve got two sets of finances to worry about.
Hayley looked down. The headline of a discarded copy of Metro on the seat next to her caught her eye: KLINGEL’S TO REPRESENT BOOTS BORRELLO.
Everybody had heard of Carmine Benedetto Borrello. The press dubbed him ‘Concrete Boots’ because no evidence tying him to any crimes had ever been found. Hayley put the paper back on the seat beside her.
Maybe I should go over to the dark side. I’d probably make more money.
She shuddered. Mergers and acquisitions might not be the sexiest area in law, but at least she’d never wake up next to a horse’s head.
It was gone eight o’clock when she arrived at their compact, terraced house in Chiswick. Although she’d attempted to run almost all the way home from Stamford Brook tube station in her heels, she knew that Millie and Danny would already be fast asleep. A pang of regret hit and her guilty conscience tut-tutted for good measure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been home for a family supper during the week. Balancing everything – work, children, husband, parents, finances and household – was pushing her to the breaking point. Rick always said she should look after herself.
Well, duh. But when?
Even before she’d contacted Isamu, Rick kept asking Hayley why she didn’t tell Charles to shove his job up his backside.
Easy for him to say, most of the financial responsibilities are on me now.
She knew that was unfair, so she never said it out loud, but it didn’t stop the thought bubbling under the surface.
Hayley quietly opened the front door and walked into the hall. Rick sat at the kitchen table reading the paper, his glasses perched on the end of his nose and a glass of red wine in front of him. He glanced up, folded the paper and smiled at her. Hayley noticed how relaxed he looked and, inexplicably, it annoyed her. She’d always loved his easy-going, laissez-faire attitude, felt it kept her grounded, but now she often wanted to give Rick a shake. Instead she gave him a small wave, dumped her heavy bag on the floor, hung up her damp coat, took off her shoes and crept upstairs.
Millie was fast asleep, curled up in a ball with Jelly-Belly, her favourite teddy with the big gut and green eyes. Pickles purred and stretched at the foot of the bed. Hayley tickled him behind the ear, then smoothed down Millie’s auburn hair and kissed her cheek.
‘Sweet dreams, darling.’
Millie murmured something incomprehensible and Hayley smiled. Very quietly she snuck out of the bedroom and into Danny’s room. He lay higgledy-piggledy in his bed, arms flung out like a starfish, his dinosaur pyjama-top halfway up his belly. Hayley covered him with his SpongeBob SquarePants duvet and kissed him. She lingered at the doorway.
I should have ‘Crap Mum’ tattooed on my forehead.
‘Hey.’ Rick smiled when she walked into the kitchen in a fresh T-shirt. ‘Good day?’ He ran a hand over his stubble and through his greying hair. ‘Did you speak to Isamu?’
‘The job fell through.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Said they’d filled it internally. Isamu reckons I should sit tight for a f
ew months.’
Rick shook his head. ‘Oh fuck, that sucks, big time. I’m sorry. Maybe it’s for the best though – you didn’t seem that keen –’
‘That’s not the point, Rick, I …’ She sighed as she rubbed her face.
He looked at her. ‘You want to talk about it?’
She shook her head.
Rick looked away, then finally said, ‘Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?’
‘No, thanks. Food’s the last thing on my mind right now. But did you get the Halloween costumes?’ Her imaginary pen was poised, ready to check a ‘Done’ box on her virtual to-do list.
‘Oh shit.’ Rick scrunched up his face and snapped his fingers. ‘I knew I should’ve done something else.’
She put her head down and her palms over her eyes. ‘Rick, I put a note on the fridge.’ She looked up and tried a smile which, she imagined, looked more like an unhinged grimace. ‘Never mind. Go tomorrow.’
He shook his head. ‘Sorry love, I can’t. I have to go over the website with the culinary school.’
‘Tomorrow?’
He nodded. ‘I’m seeing them in the morning. The site looks great, even if I do say so myself. I’ll show you later if you like? Anyway, glass of wine? How was the rest of your day?’
‘Utter bollocks. The Berger offer went tits up,’ Hayley said, tears prickling her eyes and she turned away.
Get a grip.
She couldn’t stand crying in front of people, not even Rick. If she lost control she didn’t think she’d ever regain it.
‘Shit.’ Rick’s brow furrowed. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. But now I don’t have a job offer and I’ve lost another client.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m going to get reprimanded. Or fired.’
He snorted. ‘That’s a bit dramatic. There’s no way you’ll get fired.’
‘Rick –’
He waved a hand at her. ‘Charles couldn’t cope without you. Man, I was really looking forward to his reaction when you quit … Something else will come up. You could always tell him to –’
‘Shove it?’ Hayley let out a sarcastic laugh. ‘You’ve said that a hundred times. I can’t quit without a job to go to.’
‘You’ll find something. And you’d be a damn sight happier, that’s for sure.’
‘Would I? How? What would we live on?’ She waved an arm around. ‘Do you want to call Mum and tell her we can’t afford to support them anymore or shall I?’
Rick’s bright blue eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a dig at me again?’
‘What? No. I didn’t mean –’
‘I’m doing the best I can. And we agreed. Remember?’
How could she not? Six months before her dad’s stroke, Rick had come home one evening, pale and red-eyed. ‘They’re wiping out the entire department,’ he said, shaking his head and running his fingers through his greying hair. ‘All one hundred and twenty-six of us.’
He’d applied for jobs and she watched Rick’s confidence take a hit with every rejection letter he received, even more so when he didn’t hear from prospective employers at all.
‘Start the web-design business you’ve always dreamed of,’ she said one night. He protested, said it wouldn’t be fair on her. ‘I’ll support us,’ she replied. ‘Besides, I’ll be a partner soon. You should do it. We’ll manage.’
Now Hayley looked at Rick, took a deep breath. ‘I know what I said, but –’
‘I just don’t get how you can work for that stupid dick,’ Rick said.
Hayley nodded. ‘He’s definitely a dick. But he’s not stupid.’
Rick picked up the newspaper again. ‘All I’m saying is that you need to do something.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Do something? What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing, Rick? I –’
He held up a hand. ‘Maybe you and Tony should go out on your own. Or speak to another recruiter,’ he said, his tone more subdued. ‘Okay? That’s all.’
Hayley knew he could tell she was dangling ten – badly in need of a pedicure – toes over the warpath. That’s why he was backing off; he preferred to leave her alone until she calmed down. It irritated the hell out of her sometimes. Why couldn’t he stand up and fight? Taking a deep breath she walked to the fridge, counting slowly.
1 … 2 … 3 …
‘Do you need me to fold any washing?’ she said.
4 … 5 … 6 …
Rick looked at her and blinked.
7 … 8 … 9 …
‘I didn’t do any laundry. I had to –’
BOOM!
‘Oh come on,’ Hayley shouted. ‘For fuck’s sake. You were at home, why couldn’t you do a couple of loads?’
Rick gestured to her to lower her voice.
‘Don’t shush me,’ Hayley snapped.
‘You’ll wake the kids,’ he said, his jaw tight. ‘Look, I had to finish the website and start a quote for another project. The biggest one I’ve ever had, actually. That was more important than the fucking washing, okay?’
Hayley stared at him.
‘I’m sorry, okay?’ he said. ‘I guess now’s not a good time to tell you the toilet upstairs isn’t working properly as well.’
‘You’re joking?’ She put the wine back and slammed the fridge door. A plastic magnet – the letter O – clattered to the floor, leaving the word HELL behind.
‘Don’t worry,’ Rick said. ‘I remembered to call the plumber. He’s coming tomorrow.’ He held his arms up in mock defence as he sat, weaving his upper body around like a boxer, pretending to get ready to dodge whatever she might throw at him by ducking under the table.
Hayley welcomed his humour like a hairdryer in a bath. ‘I can’t deal with all of this as well,’ she said in a strained whisper. ‘I can’t handle my job and continually remind you to sort stuff out, then spend weekends doing the washing and running errands.’
‘Hayley, listen –’
‘No. You listen. I need to see Mum and Dad. I haven’t been over in two weeks. Oh, and I thought we’d squeeze in some family time. Remember that?’
‘You’re blaming me for the lack of family time?’ Rick raised his eyebrows and Hayley could tell she’d hit a nerve. ‘You spend every goddamn waking hour at that office. We hardly see you.’
‘I’m working.’
‘I know that. But you promise the kids you’ll be back for supper and you rarely are. I get it and don’t worry, I’m okay with it but the kids, they …’ His chair toppled backwards as he stood up and it landed on the floor with a crash. ‘Shit.’
‘You know how much pressure I’m under. I need you to be supportive, Rick.’
He acquiesced. ‘Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I know you’re worried about the finances. Look, I’ll help tomorrow, I promise.’ He opened his arms and walked towards her but she moved away.
He sighed.
‘What?’ she said. ‘What was that sigh for?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No, go on.’ Hayley’s hands were on her hips and she raised her chin. ‘What was it for?’
Rick spoke in a low voice and she saw that the anger in his eyes had been replaced with sadness. ‘Every time I … you’ve got this big wall around …’ He waved a hand as his voice tailed off. ‘Forget it. Never mind. What’s the point?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Rick puffed out his cheeks. ‘Nothing.’
She closed her eyes. She knew what he meant.
The distance.
She felt it too. The silence between them took up an increasingly large space, filled with all the things they should be saying to each other, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or didn’t dare.
‘We need to talk about us,’ Rick said, barely audibly. ‘Come and sit down.’
Us? What does that mean? Does he want out? Does he want to leave?
The nagging voice in her head wondered. After all, the hours she spent at the office were ridiculous and, even during the small amount of time she spent at home, they often fou
ght. Images of him with another woman three cup sizes bigger and twenty times more beautiful than her, invaded her mind.
Could he have found someone else? Is that why he’s been so distant?
A while ago Hayley would have confronted him but now she preferred to pretend they were on an episode of that cheesy show, The Waltons. Her life was complicated enough.
‘No. I don’t want to talk,’ she said.
‘You never want to talk,’ Rick snapped. ‘Even if you wanted to, you’re never here. At some point we have to –’
‘I said no,’ Hayley shouted. ‘I don’t want to fucking talk, okay? Not now, not tonight.’ She shook her head and turned away, swiftly wiping the tears starting to spill down her cheeks.
Come on. Get a grip.
She grabbed her bag and coat, and slipped on her shoes.
Rick was in the kitchen doorway. ‘You’re leaving?’ She noticed how his tone had hardened. ‘Seriously?’
With one hand on the door handle and without looking back she said, ‘I’m going to Ellen’s. Don’t wait up.’
She closed the door softly behind her and stood on the front step, her heart aching. Hayley missed Rick, she missed them.
What happened to us?
They’d been so close. The perfect couple – everybody had said so and both Rick and Hayley had known so too. Right from the beginning Hayley had been convinced their love was one that would last forever. She could never have imagined being with someone else.
But now …?
For a few seconds she considered going back inside, throwing her arms around him, pulling him tight, allowing him to comfort her and in return, telling him she loved him. But something inside her stopped her and instead she turned and walked away.
CHAPTER 3
Let’s Play Pretend
‘For Pete’s sake, look at you. I’ll put the kettle on,’ Ellen said as she opened the door.
Hayley could rely on her best friend to speak her mind. She pulled a face. ‘Got anything stronger? Arsenic? Cyanide?’
Ellen raised an eyebrow then turned and marched down the hallway to the kitchen, her long blonde hair bouncing along behind her. She pushed up the sleeves of her grey sweatshirt, fished a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and plonked it on the table.
Time After Time Page 2
