Clean Break

by Tammy Cohen

  About the Book

  DIVORCE CAN BE DEADLY

  Kate wants a clean break from her husband Jack. They can still be friends. She just doesn’t want to stay married to him.

  But Jack doesn’t want a friend. He wants a wife. He wants Kate. And he will do anything to keep her.

  Jack remembers his wedding vow:

  Till death do us part

  He always keeps a promise.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Read More

  About the Author

  Also by Tammy Cohen

  About Quick Reads

  Copyright

  Clean Break

  Tammy Cohen

  This is what you said:

  It’s not you, it’s me.

  You said:

  I love you but I’m not in love with you.

  You said:

  I just need space.

  You said:

  Kids adapt.

  This is what you did not say:

  I’m sleeping with someone else.

  But we made vows.

  And I intend to keep them.

  Till death do us part.

  Chapter One

  KATE: Wednesday morning,

  three days after the split

  ‘There’s no ham! Mum, Ben ate all the ham.’

  ‘I did not! I haven’t been near the fridge.’

  ‘Liar!’

  ‘Enough now, you two.’

  Kate glares at her two children, trying to look stern.

  ‘Look, this sneaking food from the kitchen all the time has got to stop. Yesterday there were no crisps for packed lunches. And last week you ate all the KitKats.’

  ‘But I didn’t …’ Amy’s eyes are round with outrage, but Kate ignores her.

  ‘I don’t care who did what, just pack it in. OK?’

  The kids leave the room, still arguing. Kate hears Ben’s heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs. When did he get so big? Almost a man now. She selects a playlist from her phone and slots it into the speaker. Still such a thrill to be able to listen to what she wants, when she wants. She hums along as she washes up the breakfast things. She’s forgotten about the missing ham.

  When was the last time she felt this happy?

  The blaring of her ringtone cuts through the music. Kate dries her hands on her jeans. She hasn’t been able to fit into these jeans for at least two years. Being able to wear them again feels like an omen, like the start of a new life.

  ‘Hi, Mel,’ she says, tucking the phone under her ear.

  ‘Are you drunk?’ asks Mel. ‘You sound drunk.’

  ‘No, just washing up,’ says Kate. ‘Having a dance.’

  ‘God help us. I’ve seen you dance.’

  Kate laughs. After so long living with Jack and his constant put-downs she has grown to hate being teased but with Mel she doesn’t mind so much. One of the perks of being best friends for twenty-five years.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Mel wants to know.

  Kate knows that what Mel is really asking is how are things with Jack. She glances at the kitchen door, which still has a hole where Jack punched it. Then she walks over and closes it – to be on the safe side. Then she sighs.

  ‘Oh, you know. One step at a time. At least it is all in the open now. He’s getting it at last. That it’s over.’

  ‘But you still haven’t told him about …’

  Again, Kate glances at the door. Even though she knows Jack isn’t there.

  Old habits die hard.

  ‘God, no. He’d go mad. You know what he’s like. It’s early days. We still need to work out the details of the split. Where he will live. How often he will have the kids. How much he will give us. God, I wish we had the money for a clean break. If only he could get his own place. Then we could start living our own lives and I wouldn’t have to tiptoe around him all the time.’

  ‘Just take care, hun, all right?’

  After the phone call, Kate tries to get back to the good mood of before, but Jack is like a black cloud hanging over the kitchen. How strange to think that there was once a time when just the thought of him made her light up inside.

  She thinks about the first time they saw this house. Her and Jack. The kitchen was all brown then. It was really ugly.

  ‘I’ll make it nice for you, I promise,’ Jack had said.

  That first night after they moved in she sat on the stairs and cried. Refused to set foot in the kitchen. But he was as good as his word, coming home from work and changing into old jeans to slap on fresh paint and chip away at manky tiles. It wasn’t perfect. Jack was always in such a hurry. And then there was that temper of his. The shouting that went on when things went wrong. Never at her, mind.

  Not back then, anyway.

  There’s a noise on the stairs and Kate’s chest gets tight. Silly. She knows it isn’t Jack. Just one of the kids coming down. Still, it takes a while for her heartbeat to get back to normal.

  The thing is, they were happy in those early years. Broke, of course. But that didn’t matter so much then. They had rows, like everyone does. But making up was always such fun. Then came the kids. And there was never enough time. Or sleep. Or money. And Jack was always in such a bad mood.

  She had tried. No one could say she hadn’t.

  And now she is entitled to a little happiness.

  Her little bit of happiness is called Tom. Thinking about her new boyfriend Tom gives her a little glow of pleasure. They have been seeing each other for a few weeks now. In secret. Everything about him feels new and unspoiled. The way he says her name as if he is rolling it around on his tongue like fine wine. The feel of his fingers on her skin.

  But now she sees Jack’s face in her mind, and guilt rolls over her like a wave. She reminds herself that she and Jack are separated now. She has been upfront and honest.

  To a point.

  With someone as quick to anger as Jack, there is a limit to how honest you can be.

  Amy bursts into the kitchen.

  ‘Have you seen my yellow top? It went in the wash ages ago and now I can’t find it.’

  Kate doesn’t like the way Amy speaks to her these days. Amy does not want her mum and dad to split up. Kate can understand that. And it doesn’t help that Jack puts the blame completely on her.

  ‘It’s not what I want,’ he’d told the kids when they first broke the news three days ago.

  Kate had been upset by that. She had wanted them to put on a united front – for the sake of the children. Instead, she’s been painted as the bad guy. After everything she did to try to save the relationship.

  ‘I have no clue where it is,’ she tells her daughter.

  The words come out sounding harsher than she meant and Amy turns on her heel and flounces out, slamming the door behind her.

  Kate stares after her and sighs.

  Kids adapt, she reminds herself. They will come round, sooner or later. And it is not as if Ben and Amy are little any more. At fifteen and fourteen they are so wrapped up in themselves they hardly notice anyone else. She has been a great mum to them. Just as she was a great wife to Jack – until no
w.

  She deserves to be happy.

  A Taylor Swift track comes on. Jack could never bear this song and would always switch it off if it ever came on the car radio.

  Kate turns up the music as loud as it will go.

  Chapter Two

  JACK: Wednesday evening,

  three days after the split

  I have a book open in front of me but still I watch you from the corner of my eye. You have lost weight. But the thing is, you didn’t need to. You always looked lovely to me.

  I remember the first time I saw you. Your red hair was tied up in a ponytail and you had leggings on and trainers. You and your friend Mel had come straight from a step class at the gym. Called in for one drink before heading home, you said.

  Just one drink. That’s all it takes to change the course of a life.

  Two lives.

  I was with my brother, Matt. ‘That’s the one,’ I told him. ‘That’s her.’

  You hadn’t even had a shower after your class. I could smell you. I could always smell you.

  Some people don’t believe in love at first sight. They think love is something that creeps up on you softly, like old age. Until one day it strikes you – ‘Oh, this must be love.’ I pity those people. When I saw you across the pub, love hit me around the head like a sock full of ball bearings.

  After that, it was as if I had always known you. We did everything together. Like there was an invisible chain linking one to the other. I told you I loved you a week after we met. And moved in with you after a month. You weren’t a hundred per cent sure at first, and Mel had her nose put out of joint when I was there every morning in my dressing gown. But she soon gave up and moved out of your flat. And then it was just the two of us. Always.

  How can you have forgotten all that?

  You glance up and I instantly look away. Then I am cross with myself. As if it makes the slightest bit of difference. You can’t see me. I don’t exist for you any more.

  ‘Ben, how many times do I need to tell you? No texting at the table.’

  When you frown, a deep line appears down your forehead. You used to hate your lines and stand in front of the mirror stretching your skin back so it was as smooth as it used to be. But to me, your lines were beautiful. A map of the journey we have been on together over the last sixteen years.

  ‘You can talk,’ says Ben. ‘Your phone is almost glued to your hand.’

  Ben shouldn’t be cheeking you. In the past, I would have jumped in. Made him say sorry and show some respect. But now I sit here saying nothing.

  Your cheeks flush pink as you slam the food down on to the table.

  Amy rolls her eyes.

  ‘Spaghetti bolognese again. What a surprise. Not.’

  When did she get so rude? I wait for you to tell her off, but you bite your lip instead, as if you are trying to keep the words in.

  Ben and Amy are sitting on the near side of the table, so you have to squeeze past them. You are much thinner now but our table has always been too big for the space. Some sauce spills from your bowl as you slide into your seat, and you put your head in your hands.

  ‘I hate this bloody kitchen,’ you say. ‘I’ve always hated it. As soon as I get paid I’m going to get the whole thing re-done. New cupboards, new layout, new colour scheme. Everything white. I wish I’d done that from the start. Only your father insisted he knew best.’

  It feels like a blade passing in between my ribs. When I think of how hard I worked. After eight hours sitting in traffic jams – putting up with rude passengers in my cab who think it’s my fault when the lights turn red or we get stuck behind a learner driver. And having to smile and be pleasant, even after breaking my back lifting their huge cases into the boot of the cab for a measly one pound tip. After a day of that I would come home and be straight into stripping and sanding and painting.

  And all for you.

  I curl my fingers into a fist and press until the nails make dents in the palms of my hand.

  Ben is talking about something that happened at school. He claims his maths teacher picked on him, when in fact it was his friend who was doing the talking, not him. ‘It is so unfair,’ he says. ‘It’s always me who gets the blame.’

  I am not really listening. Instead I am rewinding our lives like a movie, trying to pinpoint the exact moment things started to change. Where is the trap door I failed to notice that dropped me from the life we had before into this living hell? Where are the signs I failed to see? But no matter how I rake over the past, I cannot find an answer.

  There is only before. And after.

  We were right here in this kitchen. It came out of nowhere. I had walked in and turned the music down a little. Not off, just down. It was too loud to hear myself think. You were chopping onions with your back to me. And I saw you freeze as if someone had hit pause. Then, without turning around, you said, ‘I want a divorce.’

  You still had your back to me, and I thought I might not have heard right. So I asked you what you had said. I was half smiling because I was about to say, ‘I thought for a moment you said you wanted a divorce.’ Then you sat down and you said all those things. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ ‘I love you but I’m not in love with you.’ ‘We can still be friends.’

  And I couldn’t take it in. I still can’t take it in.

  ‘Mum,’ Amy says, ‘I keep hearing weird noises in the night. They wake me up. How am I expected to go to school if I can’t get any sleep?’

  ‘What kind of noises?’ you ask.

  She shrugs.

  ‘Creaking and scratching.’

  ‘It will just be Sid, prowling around,’ you say.

  ‘So how do you explain that Sid was fast asleep on my bed at the time?’

  Sid is the cat. He is not supposed to sleep on the beds, but you don’t protest.

  ‘In that case, it must be the squirrels back again,’ you say, and sigh. ‘That’s all we need.’

  There’s a buzzing sound coming from somewhere.

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ says Amy.

  You jump up and dive for your phone, which is on the kitchen worktop.

  ‘So I can’t use my phone at mealtimes, but it is all right for you to keep checking your texts every five minutes,’ says Ben.

  ‘It’s not every five minutes,’ you say.

  You are trying to sound cross, but I see how you are trying to hide a secret smile as you read what is on your screen.

  A nugget of anger sits in my gut, solid as a gallstone.

  Chapter Three

  KATE: Thursday afternoon,

  four days after the split

  Kate tries to hold on to her good mood as she lets herself in through the front door, but there is something about the air in the hallway that seems heavy and solid. It gets in her nose and mouth and makes it hard to breathe. She feels the glow she has been carrying with her fade away until there is nothing left.

  She used to love her house, but now when she comes in her chest gets tighter and there’s a dull ache in the pit of her stomach.

  She hangs up her coat on a hook in the hall and bends down to line up Ben’s trainers, which he has kicked off across the hallway. She normally likes this half-hour on a Thursday between her getting home from her job on the reception desk at the health clinic and the kids arriving back late from football and drama. It’s a time when she can relax and make a cup of tea and enjoy a few moments of calm. But today she feels as if ants are crawling around inside her and she can’t settle.

  The feeling is worse when she goes into the living room, like something prickling on the skin at the back of her neck. There is something about the room that isn’t right. But she can’t work out what it is.

  She sinks down into the soft cushions of the sofa and allows herself to think about Tom. How he looked at her when she snatched a couple of hours to go and meet him last night. She told the kids she was going to the gym. Afterwards, Amy looked at her long and hard and said, ‘Since when do you wear make-up to go t
o the gym?’

  Kate thinks about how gentle Tom is. How kind. How he gave money to the Big Issue seller and stopped to have a chat.

  Jack never gives money to people on the streets. He says they will either smoke it or drink it. Tom says if he was sleeping rough, he might well take up drinking and drugs, too.

  Tom has dark hair that curls over his shirt collar. Sometimes he tries to flatten it down with gel but it always springs up by the end of the night. He has a long, thin nose that looks like someone pinched it at the end. He has green eyes, and Kate pretends to be annoyed that his lashes are longer than her own.

  There is a sound by the door and Kate jumps, but it is just Sid slinking in with his tail held up high behind him.

  ‘You scared me, Sidney,’ says Kate, stroking the huge tabby.

  Sid purrs and leaps up on to Kate’s lap, knocking a GCSE Science text book off the coffee table. Now Kate sees what is not right about the room. When she left this morning the book was on the floor where Ben had dropped it. She had been in too much of a rush to clear it up. She remembers feeling cross about how little help Ben was giving her around the house.

  He must have come back at lunchtime and tidied up. Maybe he is finally learning.

  A sharp knock on the front door startles her, until she remembers that Mel said she would call in on her way home from work.

  As ever, her best friend blows in like a tornado, flinging her arms around Kate and almost knocking her off her feet.

  ‘Tell me everything,’ Mel says, her pale blue eyes wide in her round face.

  They head into the kitchen. Suddenly, Kate feels much better. Lighter. Mel wants to smoke so they step outside into the back garden. Kate tells Mel about meeting Tom the night before. What they said. What they did. It is late afternoon and Kate raises her face to catch the last rays of the weak spring sun on her skin. She feels her good mood return.

  ‘Good for you, hun,’ says Mel. ‘You have earned this. You haven’t been happy for years.’

  ‘Exactly,’ says Kate. ‘I can’t tell you how hard I worked at being married, Mel. I gave Jack so many chances to put things right. But you know what he’s like. He never listens. Just talks over you. And he always has to control everything. I tried and tried, but one day I just snapped.