by Carol Thomas
Chapter 2
“I never knew the snapshots of my life that made me smile would one day make me cry!” Abby read the quote she had written in her notebook and wondered if she would ever be able to reflect on her life with Simon and think about their happier times again without feeling like it had all been stomped on. Frustrated at that thought and cross that she was still filling her book with random quotes from random people, she discarded her pen. The book was meant to be for her, for her thoughts and feelings – to help clear her head. But here she was yet again, at 3:30 in the afternoon in her classroom, Googling and copying yet another quote. Putting the words of some anonymous contributor to an adultery forum where her own words should have been.
Inspirational at first, it was all becoming miserably frustrating now. She wondered when she would be able to find her own voice and write what she truly wanted to. Maybe if she could clear a path in her mind, unscramble her thoughts and put them into words, she would actually start to be able to move on.
A cleaner appeared at the door, interrupting Abby’s thoughts. “Is it OK?” she asked tentatively, waving her vacuum plug in the air.
“Of course, come in.” Abby flustered with the computer, trying to close the forum page, log out and shut down before the woman, not the usual cleaner, saw what she was up to. As the vacuum sprung noisily into action, Abby closed her book and gathered her bits together.
Looking round the room she realised that constantly trying to keep her mind busy meant that she actually had nothing left to do – it was a rare state for a teacher to be in. Her marking, planning and assessments were all up to date. The room was tidy and everything, including the whiteboard, was set up for the following day. Abby thought about going home, but the house would be quiet, – too quiet. Jessica was at a friend’s for tea and Grace was at nursery. Bramble was at home but he was thirteen and had always been a bit of a lazy Labrador. While he would undoubtedly greet her with gusto Abby knew his enthusiasm would soon wane as he sought his next comfy spot to sleep. She didn’t want to be alone in the house; she knew it would simply spur her whirring mind too much.
She tucked her notebook inside her bag and assembled all of her other belongings alongside it. As she closed the clasp she let her hand slide across the soft brown leather. She loved that bag. It had been a thoroughly excessive present from Simon when she graduated. She picked it up and hugged it close – the smell of leather exuded from it and played with her senses, compelling her to picture them both in the moment she’d opened it; happy, young, full of hope and irrefutably falling for each other. It seemed a whole lifetime ago.
Forcing herself to stop – reminiscing wasn’t healthy and generally led to tears, grief, anger and remorse over being unable to get back what she once had – Abby decided she should just go to a café and have a cup of tea. Maybe away from a computer (and the temptation of more forum searches) and taking a moment for herself, she could have a go at writing down her own thoughts and feelings. Being in a public place might actually help her control her mind. With others around her she couldn’t easily descend into tears. Besides, the prospect of having a cup of tea in a café, out alone in the middle of the afternoon, was actually exciting. She never got to do such things. It would be a treat!
Once in her car she wondered where to go. Pondering which of the nearest cafés offered the optimal cake-to-cost ratio she headed out of the school gates. Driving out along the dual carriageway, with Take That blaring at a mind-numbing volume, she welcomed the respite from thinking and felt momentarily in control of her mind and her misery.
It was a funny sensation, being out and about. Having no little hands to hold, nobody to consider other than herself. She liked it. Caramel slice and pot of tea purchased, Abby sat in the corner of one of the larger local cafés, trying to convince herself that her choice of seat was valid for reasons of peace and quiet and had nothing to do with her not being brave enough to sit forthrightly in the middle. She poured her tea with purpose and looked at the calorific caramel slice. She knew she was meant to be avoiding such temptations. Trimming her waist was part of the ‘get over it’ plan suggested by her colleague Melissa, who was at least eight years younger than her and annoyingly full of optimism.
Abby rolled her eyes. As if losing weight, a new hairdo and a whole new wardrobe, including saucy underwear, would actually help sort out her marital mess! Even with Melissa’s insistence that the plan had worked for several of her college friends, Abby’s attempts remained half-hearted and her attitude sceptical. She knew if she were still in college, her relationship still in its infancy, she would be reacting differently. She was more driven and decisive then. And, of course, it’s easier to walk away when your lives are less entwined. Abby and Simon’s worlds were thoroughly entangled. That’s what happens after fifteen years! Abby had naively thought they would stay that way forever. She knew the impact of how suddenly that perception had come to a halt, and not knowing how to proceed in the wake of the blow was in part what was causing her such turmoil. How could Melissa begin to understand that? She was in the throes of new, untarnished, uncomplicated love, with her biggest dilemma being whether to go with the ‘Blissful Love’ or ‘Purple Passion’ boutonnieres for her wedding in the summer. At £16 a pop Abby could have easily answered that question.
The café was full of noise; the clatter of crockery and the constant murmur of conversation created a lively but not overwhelmingly busy atmosphere. The aroma of coffee filled the air. Abby brushed her fingers through her hair. The new do had not been a great success. Her new fringe hung too heavily above her eyes and the colour, only a shade lighter than her own hair, was a bit of a pathetic attempt at different. Melissa had tried to be positive when Abby attempted the big reveal but she couldn’t hide the condescension in her tone when she wished her well with the weight loss and clothes shopping. Abby was beginning to regret ever saying she could and would achieve all the goals set, by the time she attended Melissa’s wedding. With each day that passed both her attendance and hitting those targets seemed to be falling into greater doubt. Going to such a big event, a posh hotel in Oxfordshire no less, without Simon, despite the fact that half the school staff seemed to be going, would be odd and it was a wedding at that. She wasn’t sure she would make a terribly good wedding guest in her present state of mind.
Sipping her tea and fiddling with the items on her tray Abby looked around the room. There was a good mix of people; elderly couples drawn in by the temptation of tea and cake after visiting the garden centre next door, mums gathering to chat while their children happily snacked and businesspeople clearly taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi and strong coffee. Watching them all simply going on with their lives, oblivious to her, made Abby feel very alone.
She wished she had bought something to read; at least that way she could have looked occupied. Sitting with a notepad and pen and no clear thoughts to write in it was exasperating. She felt foolish. Abby remembered how she always used to carry a book with her, how much she enjoyed reading and the escapism a good story could offer. But now, after all the recent events, she found she couldn’t read and concentrate. Whenever she tried she found the dark voice in her head would interject (What really happened in Washington? How did it all play out?) reminding her of her own miserable reality and all the uncertainty in her life.
Searching for something to focus on, to gain control of her mind before it descended into panic, Abby scanned the room. Her attention was drawn to a man sitting just a few tables away. She didn’t know him. She had never seen him before and it was likely she would never see him again. At that point a clear and simple thought entered her head. How do chance meetings turn into something more? How does that happen? She was aware that these questions were simply her mind playing a new game, contorting her thoughts back to Simon and what had happened in Washington, but she was suddenly intrigued. She didn’t want to fight these thoughts. She wanted to know. Simon had known what to do. Helen Herne had known what to do. So wh
y don’t I? Reflecting back on her past it occurred to Abby she had never even had a one-night stand, in fact everybody she had ever dated in college, before Simon, had started out as a friend. Meeting a random stranger, getting her kit off and having impromptu sex had never really occurred to her.
She wanted all the pain and angst gone from inside her. Would meeting someone do that? Her mind continued with its new line of enquiry. Could it all be as simple as getting it fucked right out of me? She blushed, shocked at her own thoughts, but still she didn’t stop… she began to wonder just how she would go about achieving that. She was one person in a world of people, drifting, needing, wanting. Who would notice her? Nobody had in the last fifteen years. Nobody unless you counted a young, rather too-hippy-to-be-a-teacher student she once worked with. He had been enough to make Simon jealous, but as flattered as Abby was she knew he was more interested in her meticulous lesson plans than her body!
What would somebody new be like in bed? It had been so long since she had been naked with anybody other than Simon. Would it be exciting or just plain weird to touch and be touched by somebody else? Abby looked at the man again. He seemed of similar age but taller than Simon and had lighter features, not her usual type at all. He wore a charcoal suit with a crisp white shirt open at the neck, and was clearly engrossed in his laptop. His thick, butterscotch blonde hair was slightly ruffled where he had pushed his fingers through it as he worked. Abby wondered what it would be like to push her fingers through that hair and blushed a little at the ease with which she succumbed to libidinous thoughts. She noted that he looked broad across the shoulders in a thoroughly muscular sense; there was not much flab about him. He was clearly a man who looked after himself. As he rose to get a spoon Abby attempted to look away, but she couldn’t help but notice his firm thighs flexing against the tailored cloth of his trousers. Simon worked out – Abby knew about firm thighs! Ruffled by her own thoughts she forced herself to look away.
Despite the fact that it was slightly cold and had patches of dark brown teapot scum floating on the top Abby sipped her tea and glanced at her caramel slice. She knew she could be a messy eater. Sitting alone, she imagined biting into it and the whole room turning to stare as the thick caramel oozed out the sides and crumbs dropped down her top. She would have to tackle it another way. But as she passed the man’s table en route to get a knife and several napkins Abby noticed the unusual way he held his coffee cup and again her attention was drawn to him. It was a firm and commanding grip, with his hand placed across the top of the broad rim. Returning to her seat she couldn’t help but watch as he took it slowly to his wide, soft lips. It was then that she noticed his arctic blue eyes for the first time. Mesmerised and enjoying the moment, she realised too late that the reason she could see them so clearly was that she had been caught, practically on the verge of drooling, starring straight at him. Her cheeks blazed a deep shade of crimson and she almost choked on her tea.
Abby sat for the next five minutes in total horror, trying to look anywhere but back at him. Consumed by her own embarrassment she wondered if she should simply confess to being on day release from the attic. However it was that people took things further, she was pretty sure staring like a crazed stalker wasn’t it. In her mortified state Abby suddenly felt thoroughly ashamed of sitting there with a caramel slice, all too aware that her own thighs were larger than they ought to have been. She wished she had listened to Melissa and started a diet. She had become chubby as she’d become complacent in her life, allowing the pounds to slip on after Grace’s birth. She was now a size 16. The slim size 12 she had once been was a very distant memory. Abby knew she needed to take a hold of her life and herself. She needed to change her future. She had let the past happen, especially over recent years, becoming a passive player in the action of her own life. Deciding to take the caramel slice home for the girls she discreetly wrapped it in a napkin and left the café.
Grace’s nursery closed at six. Abby collected her at 5:30, a little later than she usually aimed to be. Of course Grace barely noticed; she loved her nursery and always went in a bundle of giggly energy and came out smiling with chubby arms full of paintings, drawings, gluing and half the garden smeared round her rosy cheeks. Abby swooped her up in her arms and gladly received the huge snuggly cuddle she got as her little girl clung around her neck.
Settling into the car, ready to head home, Abby’s phone buzzed. Without stopping to think she picked it up and went straight to her messages. It was her sister Kennedy, asking her round to try her latest culinary creation. Abby wasn’t sure she could face crunchy pork chops with garlicky spinach and tomato salad, or the side order of happy families that was sure to be served up with it. Just lately, spending time at her sister’s house, watching Kennedy with her devoted husband and three practically perfect sons, tended to make Abby feel like an unexploded bomb on Walton’s Mountain; it was a situation best avoided. She decided to answer the text later, once she had thought of a good enough excuse to get her out of it. Noticing an earlier message from Simon, her breath caught. As she read it she could feel the familiar rush of panic as her pulse began to race: I’d like to see the girls. Is tonight OK? I miss them. I miss you all.
Chapter 3
Driving home, Abby’s breathing felt too shallow against the tightness in her chest. She couldn’t face him. She didn’t want to speak to Simon. It was all too confusing. Clearly never seeing him again would be a far easier option, if only that wasn’t so totally and utterly impossible. They were not only bound by their marriage, or at least they were supposed to be, there were also the material things: The house, cars, bank accounts – so many things to be undone.
And then there were their beautiful girls. Their dear sweet, innocent, unknowing girls, little bundles of love and joy whose world was changing and they didn’t even know it yet. Abby knew because of their children she and Simon would always be bound together; their own genes merged in their little girls’ very beings. Living and breathing, undeniable evidence of the love they had shared and the life they had together. If only she could still feel certain about that life; if only it hadn’t all gone so horribly wrong.
Abby peeked at Grace in her rear view mirror. She was giggling as the breeze from the open windows buffeted her wayward blonde curls. Watching her Abby felt consumed with guilt as she remembered how in the dark depths of the night before, when her mind was left unguarded, she had thought how much easier it would have been if she and Simon had never had children. As if not having the girls would have ameliorated the whole situation, allowing her to simply walk away – start over in a new Simon-less life with only herself to think about. She hated the horrible depths to which her mind would plummet, especially when she was tired and less able to control it. Now, in greater, if not complete control of her faculties, Abby knew the girls weren’t the reason she couldn’t just walk away – in fact they increasingly felt like her only anchor to sanity. She knew being strong for them was sometimes all that kept her going.
Simon would have to see Jessica and Grace. She would have to face him. Abby knew she couldn’t keep putting it off. But she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure how she would cope. She actually hadn’t seen or spoken to him properly since that night. The night everything changed. Sitting in her driveway, she sent a text back: Of course you can see the girls, but not tonight. We’ll sort a time soon. Sorry. She pressed send and read it back three times. Sorry? Why was she saying sorry? She annoyed herself with the way she always tried to placate him. It was a habit she knew she had to stop.
Throwing her phone into her bag she scooped Grace out of her car seat and took her inside. It was milk, biscuit and cuddle time. There was something reassuring about adhering to her usual routines. This was her world. She knew this. Its familiarity soothed her fractious mind. There was something so utterly calming about a cuddle on the sofa before the bedtime routine kicked in. This was special time shared between her and the girls – and sometimes Bramble who, despite his size, considere
d himself a lapdog. As Simon’s work often meant he wasn’t about, this was Abby’s domain.
Grace sat snuggled into her mummy’s lap, avidly listening to her favourite story. She loved to hear it over and over again, and to join in with all her favourite parts. As the doorbell rang Bramble barked and Grace leapt excitedly to her feet shouting, “Tiger! Tiger!” hoping desperately, as she always did, that this was the day the tiger had come to her house for tea.
“Not today sweetie,” Abby responded automatically, her heart pounding rapidly at the thought that Simon might not have got her message. Face flushed, she tentatively opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw it wasn’t him. Without stopping to say hello Jessica beamed up at her mum and instantly launched into a full and excitable account of her time at Lara’s house. Abby shouted “Thank you!” and waved at Lara’s mum as she drove off – her charge safely delivered.
Bath time and bedtime were a special part of the day. Abby watched as her girls played happily together, half-submerged in a mountain of white frothy bubbles, giggling at the funny beards they had made. Joining in, Abby picked up a clump of froth and blew it into the air. Jessica and Grace squealed with excitement as ‘snow’ splodged down onto their heads and all over their bath toys. Repeating it over and over again, Abby soaked up the normality of it all.
After the bath it was time to calm down as quiet time ensued and they all relaxed together. With brushed teeth and pyjamas on, the girls took it in turns to cuddle into Abby’s lap as she brushed their hair; both so similar, beautiful blonde wavy hair which they got from neither her nor Simon.
