by Helen Warner
‘Your father and I . . .’ Jane continued with a slightly more desperate tone. ‘We were very happy together. Our marriage was strong, maybe even stronger after . . . it.’ She stopped speaking for a second and Martha knew that she was watching her with a pleading expression, wanting Martha to give her some sign that she had done the right thing by telling her.
‘Who was it?’ Martha whispered, finally looking up. ‘Was it somebody you knew?’
Jane’s eyes clouded. ‘It was Michelle.’
‘Michelle, as in his secretary Michelle?’ Martha gasped, remembering the frumpy, intense girl who had been her father’s secretary for a while when she was a teenager. They had teased him about her being in love with him and he had scoffed at the idea. ‘Jesus, what a cliché!’
Jane swallowed and looked away uncomfortably.
‘How did you find out about it?’
Jane sighed and met Martha’s eye again. ‘She told me. She was probably hoping I would throw him out and he would go to her.’
Martha gasped. ‘Could she have been lying?’
Jane shook her head. ‘No. I confronted your father about it and he admitted it. I think he was relieved to have been found out.’
‘And you forgave him?’ Martha couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice.
Jane hesitated. ‘Not immediately, no. It was such a shock. I didn’t know what to do. But he regretted it so much and made it clear how sorry he was. I think it was almost as much of a shock for him as it was for me . . .’
Martha nodded, recognising exactly the same emotions in her own situation. She looked at her mother with new-found respect. Not only had she coped with such an awful discovery on her own, but she had never given Martha the slightest hint that there was anything wrong in her parents’ marriage. She had grown up convinced that they were the happiest couple on earth.
‘I never forgot it but I did forgive it and we were able to recover,’ Jane continued, giving Martha’s shoulders another squeeze, before pulling her gently upright. ‘And you will be able to recover too. You are so strong, Martha . . .’ she said, tilting Martha’s chin so that she had no choice but to look at her. ‘. . . I know you can survive this.’
Martha put her hands over her face to hide the tears that threatened to fall in torrents. ‘I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know where to begin.’
Jane gently peeled Martha’s hands away from her face and held them in her own. ‘Let him figure that out,’ she said. ‘You have worked so hard over the past few years. Being a mum, being the breadwinner, being a wife,’ she added. ‘Now it’s his turn.’
Chapter 37
With Liv in rehab, Charlie was struggling to look after Felix on his own. He had had to cancel several high-level meetings with producers and directors at short notice, much to his agent’s fury. He hoped that he had built up enough of a reputation from his Oscar nomination to persuade those in question that he would be worth waiting for. Right now, his priority was Felix.
He had expected Felix to adapt to Liv being away, as long as Charlie was there with him full-time, but he could see that the little boy was clearly pining for his mum. Normally so cheerful and lively, he had become quiet and withdrawn, only speaking to Charlie when he had no choice and sometimes being openly hostile towards him.
The long school holidays had started and Charlie was finding it increasingly difficult to think of things to do to entertain him. When they did do things together, like going to the park or the movies or the beach, Felix would invariably make it clear that Charlie was no match for Liv in the parenting stakes.
‘Mom would have brought a picnic for us,’ he told Charlie coldly, when it got to lunchtime at the beach and there was nowhere for miles around to get something to eat.
‘Mom knows that this park is too babyish for me now,’ Felix sneered when Charlie took him to the park he had always used in the past. Charlie had looked around and realised with a start that most of the kids there were toddlers and that Felix was indeed too old for it.
But it was when he was poorly that Charlie really felt inferior. ‘Mom always makes my special drink if I’m sick,’ Felix had murmured weakly from his bed after he had spent the night throwing up.
‘Well I can get it . . . what’s in your special drink?’ Charlie had replied, taking Felix’s hand and giving it a squeeze.
Felix pulled his hand away and turned his back on Charlie. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his voice wobbling dangerously. ‘It’s Mom’s special recipe . . .’ he added, before descending into pitiful tears.
In the end, feeling increasingly desperate, Charlie suggested that maybe Felix could go to summer camp, but his son looked at him through narrowed brown eyes and said coolly: ‘Why did you make Mummy go away if you don’t want to look after me?’
They were sitting at the table, having eaten a dinner that Juanita had prepared in total silence. Or at least Charlie had eaten; Felix had played with his food a bit and then left most of it. Charlie looked at Felix in shock. ‘I didn’t make Mummy go away!’ he retorted.
Felix’s mouth formed into the shape of a sneer and he looked away sulkily.
‘Look, Felix, Mummy isn’t well, that’s why she had to go away. Not because I sent her . . .’
‘You did! You sent her away!’ Felix cried, drawing his small frame up to its full height. ‘And it’s all my fault because I told you that I came to find you that night and you promised you wouldn’t get cross, but you lied because you did get cross and then you sent Mummy away!’ The tears that had been brimming for days now tumbled over Felix’s black lashes and splashed onto the plate in front of him. He pushed back his chair and stood up. Instinctively, Charlie reached out to grab his wrist to stop him running off.
‘Ouch!’ yelled Felix, now openly sobbing. ‘You hurt my arm! I hate you!’ he screamed, before running at full-pelt towards his bedroom.
Charlie watched him go, temporarily paralysed with shock. It had never occurred to him that Felix might blame him for Liv going away. His heart was hammering with panic as he tried to think what to do. There was no doubt that Liv had had a breakdown and that going into rehab was the only option for her, but sitting here now, it occurred to him that maybe he could have handled it differently. Felix saw him as an enemy, which made Charlie feel desperately hurt and yet also ashamed that he hadn’t dealt with the whole situation more sensitively.
For the first time, he started to think about how hard things must have been for Liv. Yes, she had done an awful thing when she’d dumped him for Danny. But she had been trying to make things right ever since. She had never stopped him from having access to Felix whenever he wanted and she had clearly never bad-mouthed him to their son. And in many ways she had paid a heavy price for her betrayal. Her career had really started to go wrong once Charlie became a big-name in Hollywood himself, and the public turned against Liv for being so heartless towards him. And if he was honest, he had enjoyed seeing her get her comeuppance.
And then there was her relationship with Danny. Only now did it occur to Charlie how lonely Liv must have felt, with her career taking a nosedive and her boyfriend being linked to endless other women while he was away on constant shoots. Charlie had never felt any kind of sympathy for her drinking before, but now, sitting at her table with Felix crying loudly for his mum from his bedroom, he finally understood.
Swallowing hard in his dry throat, he stood up and walked uncertainly towards Felix’s room. He found him lying on top of his duvet, crying and shouting, ‘I want my mom! I want my mom!’ over and over again.
Charlie stood at the door watching him and felt a sudden urge to lie down on the floor and cry himself, but he knew he had to be strong for his son. He walked over to the red-painted car-shaped bed and knelt down beside it. Tentatively, he put a hand on the small of Felix’s back, which was rising and falling as each sob convulsed through his small body.
‘It’s going to be OK,’ he said, when he couldn’t think of anything else.
/> Felix sat up and glared at him, his eyes blazing with rage. ‘No it’s not!’ he cried. ‘It’s not going to be OK at all because I want my mummy and she’s not here!’
Charlie held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘Listen, Felix, Mum is going to be home really soon.’
Felix’s sobs calmed momentarily and he looked up at Charlie suspiciously. ‘How soon?’ he said in a croaky voice, followed by a loud sniff.
‘Well . . .’ Charlie began, thinking furiously. He actually didn’t know for certain how long Liv would be away. ‘I think she’ll be home in just a few weeks.’ He remembered as he spoke that her course of treatment was supposed to last eight weeks. Even to him, that sounded like a very long time right now. To a six-year-old boy, he knew it must sound like an eternity.
‘A few weeks!’ Felix cried in anguish and burst into a fresh bout of tears.
Charlie reached out and lifted him off the bed and into his lap. Felix stiffened his back and lashed out but Charlie made sure his grip was firm enough to hold him tight. Gradually, the fight went out of his little body and he sagged in Charlie’s arms. Charlie kissed the top of his head tenderly. ‘I promise you,’ he whispered, ‘that it wasn’t your fault that Mummy had to go into . . .’ he stopped, unable to say the word ‘rehab’. It didn’t sound like the right sort of thing to say to an already confused little boy. ‘. . . hospital,’ he said instead.
Felix wiped the remnants of his tears with the backs of his hands and looked up at Charlie. ‘Hospital?’ he said, and Charlie could see the cogs of his brain starting to whir. ‘I didn’t know she was in hospital.’
Charlie nodded emphatically, frustrated with himself that he hadn’t thought of saying it sooner. It would have made so much more sense to Felix if he had been told that his mum had had to go into hospital because she was sick. All he knew was that she had ‘gone away’. It was no wonder he was so distressed.
‘Your mum is a bit poorly at the moment but she is definitely going to get better and before you know it she’ll be home again,’ he said, managing what he hoped was an encouraging smile. ‘So you see?’ he continued. ‘It’s nobody’s fault when someone gets sick. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault, and most of all, it’s not Mummy’s fault.’
A tiny glint of light appeared in Felix’s eyes as he digested Charlie’s words. ‘OK,’ he said, and gave a tentative gap-toothed smile that almost broke Charlie’s composure. ‘But I’m still really sad without her.’ His eyes widened earnestly, as if he was trying to apologise for his earlier outburst.
‘Of course you are!’ Charlie soothed, hugging him tightly. ‘It’s completely normal to feel that way. You love your mum and she loves you.’
Felix nodded slowly, his lip drooping dangerously again.
‘But hey!’ Charlie said, keen to distract him. ‘We just have to think of the best thing we can do to make the time go as quickly as possible until she’s back home again. And I have had an idea . . .’
Felix’s brow crinkled as he gave Charlie a puzzled look. ‘Really? What’s your idea?’
Charlie smiled as relief flooded through him. The thought had flashed into his head as he was speaking – just in the nick of time. ‘Well,’ he began, ‘how would you feel about a trip to Britain? We could go and visit Granny and Grandpa in Wales and I could take you to where we used to live and show you where you were born?’
As he was talking, Charlie began to feel more and more excited by the idea. His parents hardly ever saw Felix and they would be thrilled if he were to visit. And Charlie had never taken Felix away on his own for any long period of time. It would give them the chance to bond the way they had when he was little. ‘What do you think?’ he finished, biting his lip to try to curtail his obvious eagerness. It was a big deal for a small child and Felix might not want to go, he reminded himself, while giving his son his most beseeching look.
Felix raised one eyebrow in a way that made him look older than his six years. ‘When would we go?’ he asked.
Charlie shrugged. ‘We can go anytime you want. How about tomorrow?’ he said, winking.
Felix’s face split into a wide grin and he reached up and wrapped his arms around Charlie’s neck in a hug. ‘That would be cool,’ he said.
Charlie held him at arm’s length. ‘Seriously?’
Felix smiled again and nodded. ‘Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun!’
‘It really will!’ Charlie agreed, as the excitement bubbled up inside him. He felt energised and happy at the thought of taking his son back to where he was born and to see Charlie’s parents. ‘Come on then!’ he beamed, lifting Felix off his lap and standing up. ‘What are we waiting for? We’ve got a trip to plan!’
Chapter 38
Four thousand miles away and three weeks after returning from LA, Martha and Jamie were sitting opposite a counsellor, waiting expectantly for her to tell them how to salvage their broken marriage.
They sat beside each other on low wooden chairs in a small, purpose-built summer-house in the therapist’s garden. Through the open windows summer sweltered on, but inside it was cool and shaded from the heat. Between them sat a small table with a jug of water, two glasses and, rather ominously, thought Jamie, a box of tissues.
He was nervous about this session because he had found the relationship therapist himself, after Martha told him that she wanted to go to counselling but didn’t want to have anything to do with organising it. She had also insisted that he go through the utter humiliation of a visit to a sexual health clinic, which Jamie decided was something that all men thinking of having an affair should do, because it would put them off straying for life. All of it he agreed to willingly, hopeful that it would help prove to Martha that he would do anything to win her back.
The counsellor was a slim woman in her fifties called Karen, with a friendly face and a gentle way of speaking that seemed to put them both at ease. She sat opposite them on a slightly higher chair, with her back straight and her legs crossed in a position that suggested that she did a lot of yoga. Jamie threw Martha an anxious sideways glance to gauge her reaction. Normally by now they would be communicating with knowing smirks at each other, but today Martha kept her eyes firmly forward.
He knew this would be difficult for Martha. Although it was essentially what she did for a living, ironically she wasn’t comfortable talking about her personal problems with a stranger.
Jamie started to breathe a little more easily, though, as he saw Martha visibly start to relax as Karen talked. Her face, which had been taut with strain since that first, dreadful morning, looked softer and more alive and her shoulders seemed to have dropped from their permanently hunched position.
He looked back towards Karen, hoping his desperation didn’t show too much. He wondered if this was what people meant when they talked about the ‘last chance saloon’. That was certainly how it felt to him.
‘So,’ Karen began, after she had written down all their details. ‘Can you each start by telling me what you think the other wants to get out of this? It will help to determine if this is the right path for you to be taking.’
Jamie and Martha looked at each other in surprise. They had discussed what they thought the therapist might ask, but neither of them had anticipated that particular question.
‘You go first, Martha,’ Karen prompted, nodding encouragingly.
Martha thought for a few moments before speaking. ‘I think,’ she began, glancing at Jamie again, ‘that he wants you to tell me how to deal with this, so that I’ll forgive him and forget about it and we can all move on.’
Jamie’s eyes widened. That was exactly what he was hoping the therapy would achieve.
Karen wrote something down in her book but maintained a neutral expression. ‘Jamie?’ she said, turning her gaze on him.
‘Well,’ Jamie stuttered, completely at a loss for what to say. What did Martha want to get out of counselling? He thought hard. ‘I think she wants to be one hundred per cent sure that it’ll never happen
again . . .’ he said finally, not entirely certain if what he was saying was true. ‘And to know that she can trust me.’
Karen nodded as she again wrote something down. Then she looked up and smiled at them one after the other. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Well I can tell you now that neither of those things is going to happen.’
The wideness of her smile contrasted so starkly with the bluntness of her words that Jamie and Martha were momentarily baffled. Was Karen saying she couldn’t help them? They looked at each other with mirroring frowns.
‘But . . .’ Karen continued, ‘if you’re prepared to work at this and be completely honest with me and with yourselves, then hopefully we’ll be able to find a way through it. But I have to warn you that it’s not going to be easy and you will probably find some of the things we discuss upsetting. So, the decision is yours. Do you want to continue?’
Jamie took a deep breath and looked shyly at Martha. He was banking on this counselling to save their relationship, and if she refused to carry on he had absolutely no idea where to go next. ‘I do,’ he said, raising his eyebrows at Martha questioningly. Please, he begged her silently. Please don’t give up now.
Martha held his gaze for a few moments, as if she was weighing up what to say. As he watched her he could see in her eyes the history of their relationship playing out as clearly as if it was on a big screen in front of him.
He saw the day she finally agreed to go out with him, when he thought he must be the happiest man on earth. Then he discovered what the happiest man on earth really feels like when she gave birth to Mimi, her dark eyes shining up at him as she held their precious first-born baby. He saw his own loss reflected in her eyes the day they got the news that his mum had died, and finally he saw the bleak devastation of her discovering that he wasn’t the man she had always thought he was.
When Martha opened her mouth to speak, Jamie felt as if he had been holding his breath for hours as her lips moved in slow motion to form the words he was so desperate to hear.
