The Torn Up Marriage

by Caroline Roberts

  He started the engine ready to go. But where? Back to the flat? To Sophie? What other option did he have? The pub? It seemed a better choice right now. Six or seven pints and blur it all out. But, hey, he’d have to go back to the flat at some point. And he ought to keep a clear head. They might still need him after all. What if Lottie took a turn for the worse or Kate had a change of heart? He put the vehicle into gear and headed off. He’d go back to Sophie, the flat. He decided he’d grab his trainers as soon as he got there, put his running gear on. Get back out. It was dark, but he’d run by street-light, pound the pavements, let his thoughts stream, hopefully lose himself to the rhythm of the run.

  He parked up outside the flat and sat a few minutes, wondering how it would feel to walk back in after what had just gone on between him and Kate. But he’d have to do it. He had nowhere else to go. He got out, went up the steps to their door.

  “Hi, everything okay?” Sophie was smiling, unaware of the shift between them, “How was your mum? You’ve been a bit longer than I thought you’d be.”

  “Oh, it’s a long story,” he said, and he knew he wasn’t going to tell her the half of it.

  Chapter 31

  “You two go and get some fresh air. I think I could do with a little nap.” From the encouraging smile on his mother’s face, Michael had a feeling this might be engineered. Dorothy was plumped up against a huge pillow in a beige leather-effect hospital chair. The first chemo session was nearly finished; the nurses were keeping an eye on her. “I’ll be fine, go on. Get on with you.”

  She looked weak, her features trapped behind the pallor and strain of the cancer. But as Michael rose from his plastic seat, he saw a glimpse of the Other Mum, the healthy one, smiling back at him. The one who picked him up, put Savlon on his grazed knees, the one who wiped away his tears. What else could he do to try and help her through this? Bring flowers and a kiss, and words of encouragement, agreeing that all would be fine to hide the horror of this disease. Try his best to ignore the line fixed into her arm, the grey cardboard sick bowl beside her, with its sticky dredge of phlegm. But he’d better do as he was told, he looked across at his father, they both knew better than to fuss her too much or defy her.

  “Well then, we won’t be long, love,” George spoke first.

  “Can we get you anything before we go?” Michael.

  “You could just top up my water, that’d be nice.”

  He poured water from the clear plastic jug into a flimsy cup; it reminded him of being back in the school canteen.

  “Right, well we’ll pop outside for a while, then. Let you rest a bit.”

  “And you’re sure you’ll be alright?”

  “Yes, George. Thank you.” Always grateful, graceful, polite.

  The two men ambled beside a narrow border of roses in the hospital grounds. A handful of pale-pink blooms still clinging on despite the recent frosts. The sky bright today, defiant.

  George cleared his throat, slowed his pace, “There’s something your mother wanted me to have a word with you about.”

  Michael felt his legs weaken. Oh, dear God, she wasn’t dying was she? She hadn’t been given that fateful diagnosis? His throat was tight with fear.

  “She thought it would be better coming from me.”

  Michael was almost afraid to let him continue, stopped walking.

  Dorothy’s voice softened as she took hold of Kate’s hand, later that afternoon, there in her hospital cubicle. They’d given her a bed for a few hours, just keeping an eye on her as some of her obs needed monitoring after her initial reaction to the chemo. “I – I’m not sure how to start, my dear.” Her fingers were trembling, Kate felt the vibrations, noted the plaster at her inner elbow. She looked at her with concern. Dorothy continued after a slow breath, “I’ve never told anyone else this before. It’s just me and George that know, and one other person.” She sighed, “It’s not something I’m particularly proud of…”

  Kate was curious, yet sensed whatever this was about was hard for Dorothy to share, “You don’t have to…” The poor woman had enough on her plate.

  “Yes, yes I do.” She smiled poignantly, her skin crinkled around her kind blue eyes. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, and if there’s any way I can make things better between you and Michael, if I can help at all, then I must.”

  Dorothy gazed out of the window, at the cool blue of the autumn sky, a little square of the world outside. “I can’t begin to justify myself, but the fact of the matter is, Kate, that many years ago… I–I fell in love with another man. Well, I thought I had. But I was already married, you see.”

  Kate’s mind raced, was George the other man or the one she was married to? Had Dorothy been divorced all those years ago, this kindly 61-year-old woman, who adored her family, her grandchildren? And where did Michael and Dan fit into all this?

  “Oh,” was all that came from Kate’s lips.

  Dorothy’s voice waivered, “I–I made a terrible mistake, Kate. I hurt George and I let down our little boy… It was all so crazy, but at the time I thought it was love. It felt like it. Things had been difficult. George spent a lot of his time at work, keeping an eye on the farm and setting up his business as well. I was tired out looking after Michael and probably a bit lonely. This man,” she paused, gave a weak smile, “He was handsome, attentive. I think I felt flattered. There was just this huge attraction between us… It seemed stronger than what I had with George, and I panicked, I think, thought it was more than it ever was. It’s no excuse, I know.” She paused, taken back to the past, still torn by the memories and the guilt of it. She sunk back against the pillow, looking tired.

  Kate wasn’t sure what to say, just smiled supportively, “Are you okay?”

  Dorothy nodded, then resumed, “Well, it led to an affair… not for long. I couldn’t face the guilt, the deceit of it all. And George, he was a good man, is a good man. I knew that he deserved more. When I’d decided to end it, that’s when he found out. I think Alec, that was his name, may have confronted him and let the cat out of the bag, thinking he might keep me that way. Ah, but Kate, it nearly destroyed us…” Her hand trembled again.

  Kate took Dorothy’s hand within both her own, stilling the tremor, holding it soothingly. She could see how affected Dorothy was, “Dorothy, please, you don’t have to say any more. It’s all fine, now, isn’t it? You and George, you’re like an institution, the pair of you. Please, you don’t have to tell me all this. Don’t upset yourself.” Maybe the drugs, the illness were unsettling her mother-in-law, the poor love. But why this confession now, after all these years?

  “But I want you to understand, Kate. Yes, we are strong. We made it through that most horrible of times. And if there’s a chance, the slightest chance that you can forgive, or try and at least understand, Michael’s actions, then there might be a way forward for both of you, too.”

  Her heart was in the right place, bless her, but Kate thought that some lovey-dovey reunion was hardly likely, given that Michael was, as far as she knew, still happily playing away at the mistress’s, despite that stupid kiss.

  Dorothy continued, her voice getting stronger, “Once we saw what we might lose, we held tight to it. It was no fairy-tale turnaround, but we worked it out, and over time he forgave me. Yes, it took patience and understanding and many an argument. But in the end, we got through. And I think you and Michael can, too. If you both want to, that is.” Her blue eyes fixed firmly on Kate’s. They were so like Michael’s that it made Kate’s heart ache, “Do you want that, Kate? I know he misses you and the girls desperately.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Dorothy. I really don’t know.” She sighed, “Can I fetch you a cup of tea?” She thought they both might need a break at this point.

  “Yes, I think I could manage one now. Thank you.”

  A few minutes later, Kate was back with two plastic cups of watery tea from the vending machine down the corridor.

  There was something eating away inside Kate; an une
ase resulting from this whole conversation, something she needed to ask. Her mother-in-law seemed to have regained her composure, so Kate framed the words, “But why Dorothy? With you, with Michael, I just don’t understand, why go ahead and do such a thing? Why risk tearing your family apart in the first place? I’m sorry! I don’t want to sound harsh and I’m not judging you.”

  “That’s alright, Kate, you have every right to ask that question. I’ve asked it of myself for many years since.” She sighed, was quiet for a while, gathering her thoughts. “For me, I think it was because I had fallen in love, or felt I had. He was so very different from George, had such charisma. George was such a sensible man, and I’d just had Michael. I think I felt a little trapped. Like my whole life was mapped out at age twenty-seven. I’ve always wondered if I may have had a touch of post-natal depression too, but it wasn’t ever really diagnosed, people just told you to buck up and get on with things back then. Anyway, that’s no real excuse, I know… He was a bit of a looker, Alec, I have to admit. He’d come to the farm to help with the lambing. Well, I just fell hook, line and sinker. He made me feel alive, young, carefree. It built up over the weeks. There was just this immense feeling that I had to be with him.”

  A nurse popped her head around the door. “How are you doing, Mrs Armstrong? I just need to do some quick obs.”

  “I’m feeling fine now, thank you.”

  The young nurse popped some kind of monitor on Dorothy’s middle fingertip and jotted down something on the chart at the end of the bed.

  “You seem to be doing fine. No sickness? And that initial dizziness has gone now?”

  “Yes, thank heavens, just a bit tired, that’s all.”

  “Well you should be able to go home by early evening, all being well. I’ll have a word with the ward sister.”

  “That’s good, Dorothy, if you can go home.”

  “Yes, home.” She said the word with such warmth of feeling. “Now where was I? I’ve lost my train of thought there now.”

  “You were telling me about this other man.” Kate’s tone was gentle.

  “Oh, yes, well it never would have lasted. I don’t think he could have handled the reality of a woman and a young baby in tow. And I soon came to realise how precious being predictable and reliable was. But I had to convince George of that, too. The guilt was horrendous. I swore I’d never do anything like that to him again.”

  “And you obviously never did, Dorothy.”

  “No, I never did.” She paused, her eyes watery with unshed guilt and tears. Kate held her hand a little firmer. “He was never second best, you know. Don’t think for a minute that I felt I was settling for second best, it wasn’t like that at all. It was just that for a while, I couldn’t see it.”

  They drank their teas, which were cooling in the thin white cups. A silence fell between them, which was calming.

  “Michael is feeling confused at the moment. I know he’s hurt you terribly, dear. But if you can at least promise me you’ll listen to him, and think about everything? At least consider giving him a second chance. It’s not always easy to admit you’ve made a mistake. And I’m sure it feels like something you can’t get over, but you can, you will. If you both want to. George and I are proof of that.”

  Kate was struggling to make sense of it all, didn’t know what to say. Dorothy an adulteress – so far from the image of the frail gentle lady sitting there beside her, brave in the face of her illness, so proud of her family, her grandchildren. And Kate saw that this was about them too, those two little girls – her choices held the future for all of them. She only realised she was crying when a drip plopped down onto her lap, dampening her skirt. Dorothy passed her a tissue.

  “Oh, Dorothy, it’s been so very hard. All I can say is that I will try and listen to Michael, if he wants to talk.”

  They were quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

  “And Dorothy,” Kate spoke again, sensing the guilt that was still haunting her mother-in-law, even after all these years. “Don’t trail that burden of guilt with you any more. You’ve been a wonderful wife to George, still are. He’s obviously very happy. You’re a lovely couple. And you’re a super grandmother, a special friend.” It had never been that dreaded mother-in-law relationship so often joked about, always a friendship between them.

  “Thank you, Kate. And yes, I truly hope I’ve made George happy. I hope he knows he was always the One, really.”

  In the hospital garden, staring at a pink rose struggling to bloom against the autumn chill, Michael tried to take in that his mother wasn’t perfect after all… and yet she was; she was still that perfect Mother. She had shown him nothing but love and support for all these years.

  “It doesn’t change the woman she is,” George said, almost reading his thoughts, still protective of her.

  “No, no, of course, I can see that.” Michael stared into the cool blue of the November sky, “But how did you manage to forgive her? How did you both move forward?”

  “Oh gosh, it was years ago, Michael. Doesn’t seem that important now… But back then, yes, it was hard, it hurt. More my damned pride than anything else. And just to think of her with someone else…” He raised his eyes to the heavens, “But I couldn’t lose her, and I knew that she would never do it again. She was devastated by it all.” He stood still, remembering, his back a little hunched, hair greyer and thinner than it used to be. “I’d been working all hours,” he continued, “Got caught up in the business and the farm, not thinking of home. And you were so very young, she felt isolated I think, living in that house in the middle of nowhere. She wasn’t all to blame.” George smiled gently as he looked up at the rows of square windows set into the grey stippled wall above them, picking out the one he thought was hers. “Mind you, I’m glad I decked the bastard.”

  Michael gave a wry smile; it was rare for his father to swear, “Good for you, Dad.”

  “Gave him a good left hook, if I remember correctly,” George continued, then his voice began to choke up, “I couldn’t lose her,” he repeated, “And I can’t lose her now.”

  Michael pulled his father to him in a clumsy man-hug. They weren’t used to being demonstrative, stood there awkwardly embracing in the hospital grounds, not knowing quite what to say. But the love was there nonetheless, infused with the strength and warmth that the woman they were discussing had given them.

  “I think I’ll head back up.” George pulled slowly away. “She just wanted you to know, to try and understand. She thought it might help you and Kate.”

  “Yes.” Michael smiled sadly. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll follow you.”

  He watched his father walk back through the glass hospital doors, saw them close behind him. His eyes were drawn to another wing of the hospital, to another moment in his life; the maternity ward, where both his girls had been born. Little Charlotte first – poor Kate, it had been a tough, exhausting labour. He hadn’t realised the half of it, both of them going in all excited, then seeing her there writhing in agony for bloody hours, until the consultant dashed in, talk of an emergency caesarean, the baby was becoming distressed, but then within seconds the head crowning, the midwife back in control. Kate pushing, the bawling cries as the baby was out, a slithery creamed-up mass. His wonderful Lottie bawling her way indignantly into the world, and the wonder on Kate’s face, suddenly peaceful after all that pain; so beautiful, amazing, the two of them. He’d held them, with relief and pride. Charlotte, so tiny, cradled within their hug. How had he ever let them go?

  Chapter 32

  Baubles and tinsel, white lights laced magically around winter-bare trees, neon signs strung high up the buildings; a Santa on his sleigh, bells, a flashing cracker. The shops stacked with last-minute goods, their tinny ever-happy music tolling away the final hours with “Jingle Bells” and “White Christmas”. Kate was out with Mel for a bit of last-minute shopping in the town, looking for some stocking fillers for the girls, who were with their dad this evening.


  He was back with Sophie, after that clumsy attempt at a kiss, a reunion. Kate was glad she hadn’t let herself get swept away, hadn’t melted into his embrace like some stupid teenager and been used, discarded again. Her heart-to-heart at the hospital with Dorothy had left her confused, wondering about the what-might-have-beens, yet she felt she could never forgive him, could never get over that pain of betrayal. After all, every relationship was different, how could she just forget everything he had put her and the girls through? He’d tried to talk with her once more, but she’d stopped him in his tracks. It had been a little strained at pick-ups and drop-offs since, but they kept it civilised, coolly polite for the sake of the children, though she fumed inside at his bloody arrogance.

  November had passed in mists, frosts and nights that closed in by five o’clock. The frenzied build-up to a school Christmas season; play rehearsals, pictures coming home shedding glitter. The build-up seemed to start straight after the October half term, going on for weeks, winding all the kids up, and then there you all were, ’tis the season to be jolly, whether you felt like it or not, just a few days left to go.

  To be honest, both she and Mel were ready for the wine bar now, just for the one. She’d cut down her drinking to a minimum, was much more in control of it, hardly touching the stuff at home, but a glass of red would be lovely right now. As they got in the door of “Oscar’s” they could smell mulled wine, hmnn, even better, and there were warmed mince pies being handed out, too. Tucked away in a low-lit corner, warm glasses in hand, they began to relax.