by Izzy Bayliss
Earlier that day, I had plucked up the courage and decided to ring the film set where he was currently working. I never usually rang him at work, there was never any need because I could always get him on his mobile, but right then I was desperate to talk to him and this seemed like my only option. So with trembling fingers I had dialled the number and held my breath as the phone rang out for an eternity. I was just about to hang up when finally it was answered by a squeaky young girl. I vaguely remembered meeting her at our wedding; I scrambled to remember her name. Flo. That was it!
“Flo – how are you? It’s Lily – Marc Glover’s wife?” I said light-heartedly.
“Oh hi, Lisa.”
“It’s Lil-y.”
“What? Oh sorry, L-illlll-ly,” she replied enunciating every syllable of my name.
“Can I speak with Marc please?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Emmmmm, I think he’s busy right now – they’re on the twenty-second take.” She laughed nervously. I could tell that she knew something.
“Okay well will you tell him I called?” I said trying to mask my disappointment.
“Em . . . sure, Lis - I mean . . . Lily.” She didn’t sound too convincing, but right then she was my only lifeline so I thanked her profusely and hung up.
I felt sick to the pit of my stomach. I had secretly hoped he would have been too upset to go to work. I couldn’t believe he was carrying on with life like all was normal, as if he hadn’t just walked out of our home only days earlier, and meanwhile my life was falling apart.
That evening Frankie called again as usual. She had called over after work every day, and I knew she was getting worried about me now because I still hadn’t moved off the sofa except to use the toilet. I was still dressed in her uncomfortable MC Hammer pants and vest top and I still hadn’t even washed myself. I knew I looked frightful, and she shook her head when she saw me in the same position, with the remote gripped in my left hand and my phone held firmly in my right.
“Lily, how about a shower today, yeah?”
She held me by the two shoulders and steered me into the pokey ensuite, coaching “left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. Lift your left leg up, step over the curly end of the rug, good girl, now left leg down again, that's it. Now right foot, left foot . . .” until we were in the bathroom. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror; my eyes were puffy and my tear-stained cheeks were red and stingy. I was sporting a pair of Susan Boyle pre-fame eyebrows – not a good look. I pulled the string on the light above the mirror to turn it off again. Frankie ordered me to get undressed. She turned on the shower and pushed me into it. I stood underneath the water, just letting it wash over me, I didn’t have the strength to even wash myself or shampoo my hair. When I came out, she had heated my towels on the radiator and had my pyjamas and dressing gown waiting for me.
“There now, I bet that feels better?”
I just shook my head. A simple shower was not going to solve my problems.
She had brought me a pile of trashy magazines, a pizza and a selection of my favourite chocolate bars, there was a Kit-Kat Chunky, a Drifter, a Walnut Whip, a Galaxy caramel, one white chocolate Toblerone, and a box of Cadbury’s Roses. I couldn’t even face opening the pizza box, so I tried to eat some of the Roses, because that’s what people are supposed to do in a crisis, isn't it? You're supposed to eat an entire box of chocolates. But they didn’t help, and instead I just felt sick afterwards.
“Any word from him?” Frankie probed gently after a while.
“No.”
“God I can’t believe it – it’s been three days now.”
“I know.”
“Have you tried Facebook?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well Facebook is the twenty-first century equivalent to hiring a private detective. That’s the whole point of social media – for stalking people.”
It hadn’t even crossed my mind to check there but Frankie was right, Marc was always on Facebook updating his status and “checking in” wherever he went.
I waited for ages for the laptop to load up and then I moved over towards the window to try and get an Internet connection, which was dodgy at the best of times in Ballyrobin. Frankie stood behind me looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t believe that I had to resort to Facebook to stalk my own husband but needs must.
The usual updates flashed up on the screen before me. My friend Gillian had posted: "I'm so stuffed from the amazing dinner made by my wonderful hubby.”
Who cares - I wanted to say - my life is falling apart.
There was one from my sister Clara:
“I think we have the makings of a child prodigy - my Jacob who was the youngest child ever to sit a Preliminary Piano exam, has achieved a distinction! Such a clever boy.”
Funnily enough, no one had given her status any “Likes”.
Marc’s profile picture was a photo that I had taken of him on honeymoon, as he had been coming out of the sea. He was running his hands through his wet hair and he looked tanned and ripped in his swim-shorts. I could remember that moment so clearly, I had been proud that I was his wife. I clicked onto Marc’s profile but for some reason I couldn’t get in. I tried clicking onto the photo again but a message appeared on screen: “You are not friends with this person. Do you want to send a friend request to Marc Glover? ”
“A friend request? But we are married!” I shouted at the computer. "He is my husband, don’t you know?" And then the awful truth dawned on me - Marc had de-friended me so I could no longer view his profile. Oh God no.
“Why would he do that, Frankie, why would he block me?” I said panicked.
“Lily - I’m sorry - it was a bad idea, I should never have suggested it,” Frankie was apologetic. She took the laptop out of my hands and closed it down.
“Well it’s hardly your fault!”
I went back over to the couch and sank back down onto it, feeling even worse than before she had arrived if that was possible. Whatever was going on, it was clear that Marc was avoiding me. It was so hard to take the feeling of rejection from my own husband. I just wanted to grab hold of him and shake him until he saw sense.
“What about his parents?” Frankie asked.
“What about them?”
“You always got on well with them - have you tried asking them where he is?”
“I thought about it but I don’t want to worry them, you know what his Mam is like. She’d work herself up into a state if she knew what was going on.”
Most people don’t get on with their mother-in-law, but I got on great with Marc’s Mam. She always welcomed me with open arms, often telling Marc he was lucky to have me.
“Well it’s been three days now. Maybe you should ask them if they’ve heard from him?”
“Yeah you’re probably right,” I sighed. "I hoped by this stage that Marc would have been home, and we would be sorting it all out without having dragged our families into it."
“I know, honey but maybe they might be able to talk to him for you?” she suggested.
I was filled with a new ray of hope, although he was obviously avoiding me, he might listen to them.
Frankie drove me over to the house of Mr and Mrs G. They lived in an ex-corporation house on the outskirts of the city centre; it was a settled estate where most of the residents were over the age of sixty. They had all lived in the estate for years and their kids had all grown up together and moved on. There was a real sense of community and everyone looked out for everyone else.
It was almost ten o'clock when we pulled up outside their house and I was relieved to see that the living room lights were still on. I got out of the car and knocked softly on their front door so they wouldn’t get too startled by callers at that time of night.
Mr G answered and he looked frightened by my appearance.
“Lily, what’s wrong? Are you okay, love? Where’s Marc? Here come in and sit down.”
> I let them fluster around me with Mrs G giving Mr G instructions to make me some sweet tea and bring me in a few slices of the Madeira cake that she had made earlier on. They waited until I had drunk some tea and eaten a biscuit.
“Now love, what’s wrong?” Mrs G asked.
“Oh, Mrs G, it’s Marc. I don’t know where he is.”
Her forehead creased in confusion and she looked over at Mr G.
“What do you mean? Isn’t he at home with you?”
I shook my head. “He left three nights ago, he didn’t say where he was going – I had hoped you might know where he is?”
“Well we haven’t seen him, have we, Pat?” She looked visibly worried.
Pat shook his head at me.
“Did you have an argument, love, was that it?” Mrs G probed gently.
“No – I wish, I mean it was nothing like that . . .” the tears started again, streaming down my face. “I came home from work and -”
“Go on,” they encouraged.
“I found him in bed with Nadia Williams . . .” I said in a whisper.
“I don’t believe it!” She hopped up off the sofa. “Marc had someone else – in your bed?” She looked over to Frankie for confirmation. Frankie nodded back grimly.
“Oh come here, love.” She sat back down beside me and hugged me.
“Nadia Williams? Isn't that the one from the Oscars?” Mr G asked.
“Well she didn't win, she was only nominated,” an ever-loyal Frankie said quickly.
“I presume you’ve tried ringing him?” Mrs G asked nervously.
“Uh-huh,” I sniffed. “I even rang the film set but they said he was busy. I’m just so confused.”
They looked embarrassed and shocked by their son’s behaviour, so I knew they weren’t hiding him in the press under the stairs. His Dad began to get angry and started to phone him from the ancient house phone, but he got the same bloody voicemail that I had been getting.
“Well this is terrible, Lily. I’m so sorry, I’m not sure what is going on with him – he’s a grown man, he can’t just do that to you and then up and disappear! I’ll give that fella a right piece of my mind when I see him!”
I sniffed into the tissue.
It was after midnight, six cups of tea and more than enough slices of Madeira cake later, when Frankie and I said our goodbyes with Mrs G promising she would do her best to get hold of him.
Frankie dropped me off, and as I climbed up the steps to the duplex, I had to pass the gang of hooded teenagers from the bus the other day.
"Would you look who it is?" they roared. I gave them evil dagger eyes, but this just made them laugh even more. I closed the door and shut the world out.
Chapter 4
The next day, as I was setting back up my camp again on the sofa, I was flicking through one of the magazines that Frankie had brought for me. It had the headline 'IS CHERYL HEADING FOR MELTDOWN?' in pink neon text, and suddenly I had a swell of love for Cheryl. We had a lot in common Cheryl and I - it was her and I crusading through a world of shitty men. She understood what it was like.
Just then I heard the doorbell ring and instantly my heart soared. It was the first time the bell had rung since Marc had left, and a small part of me thought that maybe he was finally coming home. He would have to come home eventually, wouldn't he? Maybe his parents had managed to get through to him. I hopped up from the sofa and ran to the door. I was just about to open it when it dawned on me that Marc obviously had a key, so would hardly ring his own doorbell. My heart fell quickly and heavily, and I was sure I could feel it plunging lower than it had ever been.
“Who is it?” I said, trying to sound normal and not let my tears of disappointment give me way.
“Lily, it’s me – Dad.”
Dad. The disappointment gripped me and left me reeling. I really didn’t want him to see me like this.
“Is everything alright, Lily?”
“Uh-huh,” I said through the door.
“I don’t mean to pry but it’s just I hadn’t heard from you, and you and Marc were meant to come over for your dinner this evening.”
God I had totally forgotten about that. We had organised it the week before.
“Sorry, Dad - I’m sorry we forgot.” The tears started.
“Lily, can you let me in please?”
“Oh sorry, yes of course.” I wiped the tears away quickly with the back of my hand and opened the door to see the small neat frame of my Dad standing there, dressed in his usual slacks and V-neck jumper with a shirt and tie underneath.
“What’s wrong, Lily? What’s after happening?” he said taking one look at me.
“Oh, Dad,” I sobbed and instantly he wrapped me in his familiar arms and rubbed my hair like he used to do to calm me when I was a little girl.
“It’s Marc - he’s gone,” I sobbed.
“What do you mean 'gone'? Has he gone out with his friends?”
“He’s left me for someone else,” I said in a whisper.
“He couldn’t have, Lily! Sure you’re only just married!”
“It’s true, Dad, I found him in bed with Nadia Williams, and now he is gone.”
“Isn't that the one who won the Oscar?” Dad asked open-mouthed.
“She didn't win - she was only nominated,” I said, bitterly repeating what Frankie had said to Marc's parents the other evening. “I don’t know where he is or what’s going on. He won’t answer my calls. His parents don’t even know where he is.”
“Oh, Lily, I’m so sorry - I . . . I . . . I’m speechless - I don’t know what to say. Come here, love.”
He wrapped me in one of his strong Daddy hugs that have helped to comfort me ever since I was a little girl.
“There, there now. I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this.”
“Dad how can there be a reasonable explanation for him having sex with someone else?” Just saying the word “sex” to my Dad felt weird. I saw the heat creep up along his face.
“Well you don’t think they were acting maybe, y'know for one of them films he’s working on?”
“Ah, Dad come on!” I knew he was just trying to reassure me but I wasn’t five years old anymore. He was trying his best to be upbeat, but dear God this was above and beyond reasonable.
“Yes, em . . . Lily, I suppose you’re right. Had everything been alright between you both before that?”
“As far as I knew we were happy newly-weds but obviously, Marc didn’t see it like that.”
“Well holy God – I don’t know what has come over that fella,” Dad said clearly in shock.
***
A short while after Dad had gone home, my phone rang. It was my sister Clara. I had been expecting this call.
“Lily, it’s me, Clara – Dad tells me you’re having some kind of crisis with Marc?”
“Well yes . . . you could say that.”
“What on earth could you have possibly done to make him leave so soon, Lily? I mean, God you’re only married a wet week! You’re hardly Jennifer Lopez!”
“Look, Clara – I’m as shocked by this as anyone. I don’t –”
“Well you just have to get him back, Lily – you can’t have had a failed marriage after only three months! It's pathetic!”
I was stunned by her reaction. Granted Clara was never one to beat around the bush, but a bit of compassion would have been nice.
“I -”
But she cut me off mid-sentence. “Sorry I have to dash – Joshua is smearing my Crème de la Mer all over Jacob’s piano – it is probably some jealous reaction to his brother’s recent piano success, but it must be nipped in the bud this instant. We’ll talk soon –”
“But he’s only two!” I was about to say, but she had already hung up on me.
Chapter 5
Somehow the days all joined together, and it turned into two weeks since Marc had left me. His parents had managed to get hold of him, but he wouldn’t tell them anything. Mrs Glover had be
en so upset as she recalled how he had got aggressive with her and warned them not to interfere during their brief phone conversation. He wouldn’t even tell them what was going on. So I was still none-the-wiser.
My phone rang. My heart skipped a beat as usual, hoping against hope that it was Marc. But when I looked at the screen, I saw it was just Clara. I would have to stop torturing myself like this every time it rang. The disappointment when I realised that it wasn't him was unbearable. Ever since Dad had told Clara about what had happened she had been calling me constantly, demanding an update and a progress report on the steps I had taken to get him back.
