by Adele Parks
Eventually she sighed and muttered, ‘Neil and I are going through some difficulties.’ Nat knew the explanation was woefully inadequate.
‘He asked us to call him when you arrived,’ said Nina gently. ‘He wants to talk to you.’
‘Don’t do that,’ pleaded Nat.
‘We promised we would,’ said Brian firmly. ‘I think it would be for the best.’
‘Not now,’ begged Nat.
‘Maybe she’s not ready,’ Nina said to Brian, throwing him a look beseeching him to tread carefully. He shot his wife a look that communicated his exasperation and frustration. He always believed that she was a little overprotective with Natalie, something she couldn’t be accused of with the boys. He believed she was overcompensating for something that was beyond their control and he didn’t agree with it.
‘Do what the hell you like,’ snapped Nat, knowing they probably would anyway. ‘I’m going to bed.’
‘Darling.’
‘Yes?’ Nat turned to look at Nina.
‘You’ll have to sleep in one of the boys’ rooms. Shen Tu Weng is in the small front bedroom now.’
‘Fine,’ muttered Nat, too exhausted to care. In the last twenty-four hours she’d lost so much more than a childhood bedroom.
35
Despite her exhaustive antics the night before and her overwhelming fatigue with her situation in general, Nat did not fall asleep immediately, as she’d expected. She lay on her younger brother’s bed and nervously anticipated Neil’s inevitable arrival. She wondered what he’d say and what she could say to him. She dwelt endlessly on the events of the previous night. There had been so many grenades thrown her way (and she’d hurled a couple out of the trenches too), she didn’t know how to process all that had happened. He was having an affair with a stripper. He’d said he wasn’t but he’d called out the other woman’s name while they were having sex and that had to be proof positive, hadn’t it? Nat didn’t know for sure. Last night she’d been so certain that he was betraying her but today she wondered whether she was right. She rolled on to her stomach and pulled the pillow over her head. The coolness did nothing to soothe her as she reasoned that it didn’t matter anyway because now she’d slept with someone else too. Karl! Neil’s friend. Her friend’s fiancé. Why had she done that? It wasn’t enough to blame the fact that she had been incredibly drunk, possibly drunker than she’d ever been in her life, that was a pathetic excuse. She hated herself. She’d never been unfaithful before, never, and now she was the worst type of person. Was it revenge? Was it inevitable after bumping into so many dead ends walking down memory lane? Had she always been secretly attracted to Karl? She really didn’t think so. She wasn’t even sure she liked Karl. Was she hoping to hurt Neil? Why had she put herself in such a position?
Babies. This all came down to Neil’s desire for a baby and her horror of falling pregnant.
Last night Karl had been funny and he’d been kind to her. He had been so understanding; he really sympathised with the fact that she didn’t want kids and he thought Neil was nuts to keep arguing about it. He agreed with her that she’d always made her position clear, he said he remembered her doing so on any number of occasions. Karl had been significantly more understanding than any of her exes had been and certainly more understanding than Neil. Karl said he really understood because he didn’t have even the most fleeting desire to have kids either. Last night she’d thought that meant something. She was pretty certain (as they’d started in on the bottle of tequila) that it meant Karl was her One. She told herself Karl was the man she should have married.
He’d said, ‘Yummy mummies are a myth. No, that’s too kind, they’re a lie.’ He told her that he’d once picked up his sister’s kids from the school gate and been shocked by what he saw, really quite devastated. He said he’d read Grazia and Heat (over Jen’s shoulders) and he, too, had bought into the whole yummy mummy crap.
‘Those pictures of Posh are to blame. I mean I’d give her one, and not only to say I’ve dribbled where David Beckham has, she’s hot. And she’s a mother, with a whole bunch of kids, isn’t she? So I, too, believed a flat stomach was possible after a baby but it’s a lie, Nat. I feel sorry for the poor bitches that are mums and read this propaganda, I do. It’s not possible to be hot and a mother, at least not without a personal trainer, dietician and probably a decent surgeon. I think that pretending that it is possible amounts to a form of modern-day torture for normal women. Real women, specifically real mums, are . . . well, mummsie. I know I saw them at my nephew’s school. They’re not always, invariably, definitely fat, although the odds suggest that will be the case, but certainly they’re tired and harassed looking and they all look more than a bit pissed off with the world. These might have been perfectly attractive women until they had kids but then they all seem to turn into women who resent midweek sex because it will steal precious moments of sleep and leave them craggy in the morning. I don’t blame you for not wanting kids, Nat. I don’t.’
Natalie hadn’t bothered to point out that her objections to giving birth went deeper than vanity or interrupted sleep patterns. She knew that Karl was trying to be sympathetic and sympathy was what she’d wanted. So when he’d leant across the sofa, past the saucer that was doubling up as an ashtray (what was she doing smoking again?) and kissed her, she hadn’t pulled away. If only it had been a terrible kiss then nothing more would have happened. But it wasn’t a terrible kiss. There was definite chemistry. What a shame he was so expert! She’d felt the kiss stir a response deep down in the hot space where her legs met. She’d kissed him back hard and passionately.
She remembered draining the whisky bottle and starting in on the tequila. Its fiery roughness spilt down her throat as Karl’s large hands spilt across her body. But then . . . then she wasn’t sure. The alcohol consumption or her iron will had blanked out the details of the adultery. It was all too horrible to contemplate, too horrible to want to re-live. What had she done?
Nat must have fallen asleep eventually because a tap on the bedroom door jolted her awake. For a moment she was confused and skittish. She wasn’t sure which was worse: her nightmare (about a five-foot baby coming out of her vadge and splitting her open into thousands of bloody pieces that looked a lot like confetti) or her reality, Neil standing in the doorway of the bedroom, head hung low and his hands dangling uselessly by his side.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked. Nat nodded although she wanted to push him back through the door and lock it for ever. She wanted to lock the door on Neil, Nina, Brian, Karl, Jen – on everyone and everything, actually. She wanted to hide away for ever as she was so ashamed and sad. ‘I’ve got something for you,’ said Neil.
He went back outside the room and re-emerged with a giant bouquet of flowers. Neil had agonised over which flowers he should bring her.Something cheerful in yellow, perhaps? Were red roses a classic or a cliché? Would she like tulips? They were her favourite and they had a little private joke which they shared whenever he bought her tulips. He’d say while he always liked to see roses on the piano, he preferred two lips on his organ. So no then, not tulips, that joke would be excruciating under the circumstances of his wife thinking he was shagging a stripper. After an age he’d selected a dramatic arrangement of white roses and dark pink lilies. They were wrapped in cellophane and decorated with a fat, scarlet ribbon. Neil thought the bouquet was modern and flamboyant. He thought the flowers said sorry and that they would be an easy route into a hard conversation.
Nat stared at the enormous bouquet and thought it was inappropriate. You gave flowers if you were late for an anniversary dinner or if you’d got really drunk at a stag party. A bouquet did not reflect the seriousness of the situation they were in. Besides, the flowers looked somehow sexual as the lilies had petals with scarlet slashes that reminded her of probing tongues. Nat didn’t want to think about sex; not the sex she’d had with Karl nor the sex Neil had had with Cindy, it was all too vile. She didn’t take the flowers from Neil when he offere
d them and after a few moments of hesitation he placed the bouquet carefully on a bookshelf.
‘I’m not having an affair, Nat,’ said Neil. His voice was hoarse and oozed hurt. Nat felt guilt and regret flare in her stomach. She lay prone, staring at the ceiling, not daring to face her husband. He cautiously sat on the edge of the bed. His movements were tentative as he took care not to touch any part of her body as he knew she wasn’t ready for that. Nat radiated a sense of separateness. It worried him that even while they were in the same room she was so far away. When Neil had first started dating Nat, all those years ago, he’d often had a vague impression that there was an invisible divide between them. She was unlike all the other women he’d dated as she did not rush to reveal every single thought and feeling that flittered through her mind; she was reserved and careful with what she shared. He’d found her slight detachment attractive, almost challenging. He wasn’t sure whether it was motivated by aloofness or shyness and it didn’t matter much either way because, naturally, over time the sense of her being separate disappeared as they became closer than he’d ever been to anyone before or since. Neil was alarmed to note that she’d reinstated the invisible barriers; it was a huge leap backwards. Together he thought they could sort things out; if he was left on his own to fix it then he was pretty sure he’d tangle things further. He knew he’d have to start the conversation. He just didn’t know how to. He could hear the wind outside, shaking windows and bouncing around houses and cars. He heard some kids calling to one another as they raced round and round the cul-de-sac outside the Morgans’ house. He could hear his wife’s breathing and the screaming of his own thoughts.
‘I’ve been very confused lately.’ He coughed. ‘We haven’t been doing so well, have we?’
Ha, thought Nat, you don’t know the half. But she couldn’t bring herself to say so, not yet. It would all be over then, and while she realised their end was inevitable, she couldn’t bear rushing towards it, she’d done enough of that already.
Neil continued, ‘I’ve been acting stupidly. I shouldn’t have been sneaking off to Hush Hush. I didn’t know how to reach you, so I suppose I turned to Cindy as a bit of a prop.’
Nat’s eyes slid from the ceiling over to where Neil sat in a pool of pain. The arnica cream hadn’t been especially effective, the bruise on his jaw had spread and darkened and she noticed his knuckles were cut too. He looked a wreck. It hurt her to see him floundering, so she looked away quickly.
‘She was just a fantasy figure.’ Nat nodded ever so slightly, she could accept that might be true. Encouraged, Neil tried to be totally honest. ‘But I don’t mean that I fantasised about her tits and arse.’ Nat looked sceptical. ‘Well, not much,’ he conceded. ‘It was Heidi, her daughter.’ He coughed, embarrassed. ‘Cindy is so devoted to that kid, in her own way, despite not being archetypal mother material, and I became interested in them as a family. She told me stuff like Heidi has an intolerance to tomatoes and the fact that she chews her toenails.’ Neil realised he was probably sounding weird. ‘It’s just the stuff everyone else our age talks about, Nat, kid stuff, and I liked being part of it. Can you understand what I’m saying?’
Yes, Nat understood. Neil fantasised about having a family; he wanted to be immersed in fetal scans, Calpol distribution and CBeebies viewing. She’d fantasised about carelessly dating men, being young again and never having to think about anything more long term than what she should order to eat for dinner. She understood but understanding terrified her. They were on separate paths.
‘I so want a baby, Nat. I want a family, with you. And I don’t understand why you won’t talk about it. It’s not fair that you just say it’s off the agenda.’
‘It’s never been on the agenda,’ said Nat quietly. She was despairing and deeply sorry that once again she had to reiterate her position on this of all things, and now of all times.
‘I know. I know.’ Neil didn’t really want to get into the baby debate right this moment either. Of course he would have to tell her what he’d done last night. Wouldn’t he? But not yet, his plan was to wait to see if his actions actually came to anything first. If there was a result then he could tell her. Right now, he had other deep and muddy waters to wade through first. ‘Cindy was a bit of warmth.’
Just hearing the word warmth caused a pain that Nat thought must be the equivalent of something like a shard of glass being rammed into her flesh. She knew exactly what it meant when a man talked about warmth. This Cindy’s hot tongue would have played with Neil’s. Her hot, hot body would have performed for Neil. Nat had imagined that warmth between Neil and his stripper while she was with Karl last night. In fact, she hadn’t been able to get the idea out of her head.
‘I paid to see her naked. It was nothing more than that,’ said Neil defensively. He wasn’t sure whether he was being absolutely truthful. Now that his ‘thing’ with Cindy (a thing he struggled to categorise or define) might cost him his marriage, he was pretty sure it was nothing but over the past weeks it had sometimes seemed like the only good thing in his life. For this reason he felt a slight twinge of guilt when he added, ‘It was a transaction.’
‘Yet you met her kid,’ Nat pointed out, puncturing his life raft.
‘Yes,’ Neil admitted because he could not deny beautiful Heidi.
‘And you visited frequently.’
‘Yes.’
‘How often?’
‘I forget.’
‘Think about it. Work it out.’ Nat needed the facts. She needed to get things straight in her head and she was pretty sure this might be the only time she’d get to ask these questions. Soon there would be no reason or motivation for them to talk to one another.
‘I don’t know,’ Neil stalled.
‘Six times? Seven?’
‘Maybe seven times.’
‘Ha.’
‘What do you mean, ha?’
‘Just a coincidence. I had seven dates with my exes.’ She’d had six, actually. Plus Karl.
Suddenly Neil appeared animated. He sat straighter and said excitedly, ‘Two wrongs could make a right, Nat! In this case they could, couldn’t they? We could put this behind us. You said yourself that you hadn’t slept with any of those guys and I believe you. I’m sorry I said I didn’t yesterday, but I do now. You have to believe me too, Nat, please.’
Neil slipped off the bed and crouched down next to it so his head was only inches from his wife’s. He stared at her profile and even though she was unusually pale today and had bags around her eyes which suggested a lack of sleep, he thought she was beautiful. She was still staring at the ceiling. He noticed a fat tear run down her cheek. He leant close to her and gently kissed it away. The phut sound sat between them, ephemeral and vulnerable. The tear tasted salty and familiar. He knew how his wife tasted and he loved it. He loved her. This was a mess. A terrible, terrible mess but he wanted to fix it. Would good intentions be enough?
‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured. ‘So very, very sorry. Let’s put this behind us. We can, can’t we? I won’t go to see Cindy ever again, I promise. I really don’t want to. It’s you I want.’
Tears were beginning to fall thick and fast down Nat’s face now. She could feel that the collar of her T-shirt was wet. She wanted to put this horror behind her too; she wanted to turn back the clock to Neil’s birthday. She wanted all this misery and mayhem to vanish. She heard the old adage that her parents used to recite to her as a kid: ‘I want never gets.’ It had never seemed so true.
‘But I did,’ whispered Nat.
‘Did what?’
‘I slept with someone.’ Nat’s silent tears suddenly transformed into noisy sobs. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She turned towards her husband, hoping that he’d see the repentance in her face, but the room was empty. Neil had fled and in his haste he’d knocked the bouquet off the bookshelf and on to the floor.
36
At 6.40a.m. on Monday morning Nina and Brian were surprised to hear Nat in the bathroom; they both listened a
s she took a shower.
‘Do you think she’s planning on going to work?’ Nina asked.
‘Sounds like it,’ guessed Brian.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
‘I don’t know what to think. Neither of them has told us anything,’ grumbled Brian. He was always more prone to being grumpy when he was worried.
‘I’ll get up and offer her breakfast. She hasn’t eaten anything since she arrived here. She can’t go to work on an empty stomach.’
Nina put the kettle on and poured out a bowl of muesli for her daughter. She put some wholemeal bread in the toaster, rummaged in the cupboard and found an assortment of sticky jars of marmalade, jam and honey. She placed them all on the table as she was unsure of her daughter’s current preference with regard to condiments or anything much, now she came to think of it. The thought was a slightly melancholy one. There had been a time in Nina’s life, years and years actually, when the preferences of any of her children were entirely known to her; food preferences, favourite TV shows, toy crazes, friends in and out of favour, she knew everything there was to know about them. She found it difficult watching them all grow up and move on, especially at times like this when one of them was so clearly floundering. Nina loved the idea that Nat was sleeping in the room next to hers, she loved all her children visiting and they were always welcome, she only wished it was under happier circumstances.
Nina waited for ten minutes and then couldn’t wait any longer. She went upstairs and popped her head round the door of the bedroom Nat was using. She was sitting on the bed wrapped in a towel, her wet hair falling in tangles around her shoulders.
‘Are you planning on going into work today, darling?’
