The Runaway Wife

by Rowan Coleman

  “No!” Shona said instantly. “Well. Yes, I told my mum. I had to. You don’t just get lent a car, your kids taken care of, and given a load of cash to take off for no reason. But Mum won’t say anything, I swear. You know how grateful she was for how you’ve helped me and the boys before; she’s not going to land you in it.”

  “I hope not,” Rose said anxiously, wondering what Richard was up to even now to make sure that the whole world would believe him when he said it was she who was the danger. She who was unstable and couldn’t be trusted. If anyone could do it, it was Richard.

  “Look, don’t worry,” Shona said reassuringly, as she dropped an arm around Rose’s shoulder, kissing her on the cheek, hugging her tightly, and lifting her chin in defiance. “We’re miles from fucking anywhere here. The right arse end of the universe. What fuckwit would ever think of looking for us here? So, where are the local sex spots? I hear it’s all about doing it outdoors in the country.”

  “Honestly, as if you would!” Rose said, shaking her head at her friend. “That’s another thing I don’t get about you, always playing the tart, when really we both know nothing could be farther from the truth. You’re just a big old romantic at heart. Always believing in the happy ending.”

  “Well, you’ve got to believe, haven’t you?” Shona said. “Otherwise what else have you got? Anyway, it’s you who wants me to pack in Ryan for good, so maybe I need to start looking around.” Shona was thoughtful. “Hey, maybe I’ll marry a farmer, bake cakes and shit.”

  Rose laughed. “That I would like to see.”

  “Well, you never know what sort of romance a quickie in a car park might lead to.” Shona chuckled, digging Rose in the ribs.

  “What’s a quickie in a car park?” Maddie asked, returning from the bathroom with a thick slick of pink gloss plastered around her mouth.

  “Um, it’s like a sort of parking ticket,” Rose said.

  “Aw, now don’t you look pretty?” Shona said, holding a mirror up for Maddie to look in, making her giggle. “You stick with your Aunty Shona, I’ll teach you the true meaning of style.”

  Rose looked at her barely dressed friend, a pumped-up invention of a tough, sexy woman that had nothing to do with the real person that lay beneath, and shook her head.

  “Only over my dead body,” she said.

  • • •

  “Tell us all about it, then,” Jenny said as soon as Rose, Shona, and Maddie appeared in the dining room. “How did things go with your dad? I rang Ted to find out, but he wouldn’t answer his phone, bloody boy.”

  Rose puffed out her cheeks, looking at Maddie, who hadn’t been the least bit curious about how the meeting with her long-lost grandfather had gone. Nor had she looked like she missed Rose when she turned up after two large whiskeys and with a slightly fuzzy head. If anything, she’d looked mildly inconvenienced to have to stop playing with the doll’s house and engage with her mother. Sometimes—often, actually—Rose would look at Maddie and wonder if the child loved her at all. Although more often than not Maddie’s anxiety when separated from what she knew was acute, Rose didn’t think that Maddie’s source of comfort particularly had to be her mother or her father. A favorite jumper or Bear would do equally well. It was certainly true that Maddie had slotted happily alongside Jenny with the sort of ease of companionship that Rose found very rare herself. For her part, she loved Maddie with a passion that she never thought would be possible, and one day, she supposed, it would just be nice to know with certainty that the little girl loved her back.

  “It went how I expected, I suppose,” Rose said. “He was shocked to see me, and very unhappy that I’d come at all. He really just wanted me to leave.”

  “I feel like that when you make me play with Belinda Morris,” Maddie said, carefully removing all the green beans from her plate, referring to the little girl that lived two doors down. Richard was keen that his daughter appeared to be just like all the other little girls and had encouraged the friendship, only for Rose to have to make excuses once Maddie had called Belinda “an insufferable little fool” in front of her mother, claiming, “She’s got a stupid face.”

  “Awful, how a man could turn his back on his own child that way,” Jenny said, looking at Brian, who was quietly reading the paper. “You should do something about it, Brian.”

  “Me?” Brian said, affronted. “What the bloody hell should I do about it?”

  “Go up there, talk to him. You wouldn’t have anyone treat your Haleigh the way that man’s treated Rose!”

  “I know, that’s ’cause I’m Haleigh’s dad!” Brian said.

  “And he’s hers,” Jenny declared, as if somehow that made her whole argument watertight.

  “Really, no one has to go up there,” Rose said, desperate to rescue Brian, who, she suspected, had been propelled into the middle of more than one of his wife’s feuds on very tenuous grounds. “I’m going back up there tomorrow. He said he’d answer my questions, so really all I have to do is think about what I want to ask him. I mean, I want to ask him about so much, but then again, I’m not really sure I want to know the answers. I’m not even really sure if I want to go.”

  “Ask him if he’s got a will,” Jenny said.

  “Ask him which leg he’d like me to break first,” Shona added.

  “Ask him why I’ve never met him,” Maddie said casually, almost as if she wasn’t really interested in the answer, but it was the question that struck home hardest with everyone else around the table.

  “I’ll come with you,” Shona said. “Like your bodyguard.”

  “Really, I think it should be me who comes with you,” Maddie said. “He’s my granddad, after all.”

  At first the idea horrified Rose, but it took her only a moment to wonder if actually it was the best way of tackling John again. Bringing Maddie would take the tension out of the situation, defuse it from being confrontational into more simply a visit. And perhaps that way it would be easier for John to talk to her, knowing that she wasn’t there simply to accuse him or to start a fight. Maddie wasn’t the most relaxing child to introduce to new people, but Rose had a feeling that John would like that about her.

  “I think that’s a good idea.” Rose nodded. “I think you should come, Maddie.”

  Maddie looked up as if she’d forgotten what she’d recently suggested. “Hmm?”

  “That you come to meet John,” Rose said.

  “Should be interesting,” Maddie said to Brian, with an air of curiosity. Was it nice, Rose wondered, to be as disconnected from the world as her daughter sometimes seemed to be? Life raged on around her, full of violent storms and upheaval, and yet most of it literally went over her head. Yes, the things inside Maddie’s head could frighten her—she was often terrorized by various imaginary ghosts and goblins—but Rose had only ever seen her scared by real life once, the little bubble of her own world finally pierced, and that had been the night they had left Richard.

  “And me.” Shona helped herself to a second helping of chicken pie, much to Jenny’s chagrin, which was only slightly softened by her adding, “Bloody lovely pie, mate.”

  “I think just us,” Rose said. “Don’t want to frighten him off completely.”

  “What are you saying?” Shona half accused, half laughed. “And what the bloody hell am I going to do in this dump while you’re up there?”

  Before Rose could answer, Ted appeared in the doorway, his coppery hair damp from the drizzle, his battered leather jacket glittering with moisture.

  “Thank you, God, for sending me to heaven,” Shona said at the sight of him, not even wincing when Rose dug her elbow into her ribs.

  “All right?” Ted nodded at Shona, his gaze dwelling for a moment more than was necessary on her ample and mostly on-display cleavage, before he smiled at Rose and then his mother.

  “Dropping you in a backstage pass for the gig tomorrow.”

  “Backstage pass?” Brian snorted. “I didn’t know the pub had a backstage!”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, well, it’s got the snug, it’s a VIP area.” Ted smiled at Rose. “You’re still coming, yeah?”

  “Well, I haven’t even asked about . . .” Rose had been too preoccupied with hoping that Shona wouldn’t cause Jenny to spontaneously combust to ask her about babysitting.

  “Mum, you’ll look after the kid, won’t you? So Rosie can come to the gig tomorrow?”

  “Rosie?” Shona giggled. “Are you going to a gig, Rosie?”

  “Course I will,” Jenny said, smiling at Maddie, who was watching the whole thing unfold with minimal interest. “We get on, don’t we, love? You can tell me all about the Egyptians again.”

  “OK, and I’ll do you a test, say twenty questions, and then I’ll grade you,” Maddie offered, oblivious of the look of muted horror on Jenny’s face.

  “Or we could stay up late and watch a movie,” Jenny offered.

  “Or do a test,” Maddie said. “Although I must say, I’d quite like to go to the gig if you are going to play that song.”

  “Which song, sweetheart?” Ted asked her.

  “The one that’s going to change the world. I’d like to see the world changing.”

  “I tell you what, I’ll drop you off a CD,” Ted said. He looked at Rose. “So you will come?”

  “Course we will!” Shona said, taking the ticket out of Ted’s hand and holding her hand out for another. Reluctantly, he handed one over. “Oh, and for the record, I like drummers.”

  • • •

  As soon as Maddie’s breathing became steady, signaling that she was finally asleep, Rose crept next door to Shona’s room, where she found her pouring a glass of red wine into a tooth mug.

  “Here,” she said, holding it out to Rose. “You take this, I’ll take the bottle. Don’t worry, I’ll fill you up!”

  “Jenny doesn’t allow drinking in bedrooms,” Rose said nervously as she took the mug anyway and sipped the sour-tasting brew. “She barely allows sleeping.”

  “Fuck Jenny,” Shona said cheerfully and without malice. “It was two for one at the service station on the way here and I thought you and me would need a couple of drinks while we catch up.”

  “Which means you’re planning to interrogate me,” Rose said.

  “Yeah,” Shona said. “So drink up.”

  Remembering the pleasant tingly feeling she had after her two whiskeys, Rose obliged, downing the mugful of cheap wine in one or two gulps and then holding it out for more.

  “Fuck, where’s Goody Two-shoes gone?” Shona asked her, amused.

  “She ran away, didn’t you hear?” Rose giggled. “So go on, ask me. Who the fuck is Ted, right?”

  “That question is first on my list. Who the fuck is Ted, because he is fucking lush!” Shona’s eyes sparkled as she spoke. “Although far too young for you.”

  “He’s Jenny’s son. He’s been sort of flirting with me, but not in a serious way. More in a friendly, sweet sort of way, really. I think he’s pretending to fancy me to cheer me up.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Shona said, smiling to see that her friend was evidently cheered up by Ted’s attentions. “But it was obvious that he really wanted you to go to his gig, bless him. Like a keen little puppy, all wet nose and waggy tail. Or waggy something, anyway!”

  “Shona!” Rose’s eyes widened, unable to suppress a chuckle at her friend’s boldness. “Yeah, but he couldn’t take his eyes off your boobs the second he walked in the room, and I don’t exactly have much in the way of competition. So I expect his interest to wane now that you’re here.”

  “He’s a bloke, darling, they’re all programmed to look at tits. If Jesus had walked in right then, he’d have been looking at my tits, because they are amazing. It wouldn’t mean he wasn’t the Son of God anymore.”

  “Oh my God.” Rose clapped her hand over her mouth and giggled, the wine already beginning to take effect, which with Shona doing her utmost to take Rose’s mind off things made quite a heady combination. “We’ll get struck down by lightning.”

  “No, we won’t. God loves my tits,” Shona said, refilling Rose’s glass.

  “Anyway!” Rose said, glancing upward as if she were still expecting retribution. “Ted is just a lad who’s been nice to me. And from what you’ve told me, I sort of feel like I’m on borrowed time here, so why not have a laugh while I can? After all, it will be the first time in my entire life. I never went to gigs when I was a teenager, or kissed a load of boys, or got drunk and had crazy hairstyles!”

  “I agree.” Shona nodded emphatically. “I think you should go to the gig, I think you should have a laugh, let your hair down a bit, recapture your lost youth. And then I think you should fuck him.”

  “I couldn’t do that!” Rose spluttered. “I don’t want to do that. This isn’t what this is about!”

  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to prison or the loony bin anyway . . .”

  “I’m not, I’m not doing that,” Rose said uneasily. Even though she knew Shona was joking, the idea that Richard could somehow manipulate her into either one of those situations wasn’t entirely out of the question. He was very good at getting what he wanted, and if he no longer wanted her around, then Rose was very sure he’d find a way to make it happen.

  “Anyway, I didn’t come here to pick up a younger man for casual sex.” Rose shuddered at the thought of it. “I don’t even like sex.”

  “You freak,” Shona muttered, before taking a swig from the bottle. “You don’t like sex with Dickhead, and why would you? He’s vile. Sex with a normal person, a warm-blooded one that doesn’t bite the heads off bats in his spare time, that would be different.”

  Rose turned her face away from Shona, waiting for the moment of nausea to pass. How could she ever explain to Shona that the thought of anyone touching her that way, even Frasier, made her want to run to the hills and never come back?

  “I came here for Frasier,” Rose reminded Shona. “Not my father, and certainly not Ted. It’s Frasier I’m waiting for.”

  “What if he never comes?” Shona asked, tipping her head to one side. “I mean, he’ll come—it’s only a matter of time until you see him again—but what if he’s not at all how you remember him? What if he’s fat and bald and mean?”

  “He won’t be,” Rose said, smiling, her image of Frasier so firmly imprinted in her memory that she couldn’t countenance him being any other way. “I’ll find out soon enough, anyway. Albie said he’s up here every week, checking up on my father. And if he doesn’t come, I’ll go to Edinburgh.”

  “What if he’s blissfully happily married, got five kids and a dog? Or what if he’s gay, blissfully happily married, got five dogs and an S and M dungeon? Both of those scenarios are much more likely than the one you are hoping for, you know.”

  “I know,” Rose said, although she didn’t know it at all. She was really very much more in denial about reality than she would ever let on. Because if she was wrong about Frasier, then she had no idea what to do next.

  Rose combed her fingers through her long brown hair, looking at her sharp pale face peering back at her from the mirror. Always the same, timid, cowardly face. She was thirty-one years old and she still had the face of a little girl.

  “I do know that, I do. It’s just . . . oh, I don’t know. I realize how stupid it sounds that ten minutes of talking with a man seven years ago were the most . . . exciting of my life. But then again, have you seen my life?”

  “I have seen your life and it’s because of your life, and your fucking shit dad and shit husband, that you think those ten minutes meant more than they did. That’s all I’m saying. I just don’t want you to get more hurt than you already are, darling. And the odds are that is exactly what will happen.”

  “So what about Ryan?” Rose asked, lying back on Shona’s bed a little too quickly so that her curtain of hair covered her face.

  “I told you,” Shona said stubbornly. “He wants me back, I’m thinking about it.”

  “He wants you
back and you’re thinking about it? How is that any less crazy than me chasing Frasier across the country for a pipe dream?” Rose propelled herself upwards in her frustation and fury. “Shona, Ryan cheats on you! He can’t stop himself. God knows what the other women see in him but then he’s not that fussy.”

  “What are you saying?” Shona’s hackles rose.

  Rose struggled to find the right way to express herself, the exact words that meant that finally Shona would listen to her. “You’re so bright, so clever and strong. Why can’t you see this one blindingly obvious thing? If you take him back you will get hurt again and again. Ryan will never grow up.”

  Shona said nothing for a while as she cradled the bottle, her hair covering her face. Rose watched her, desperate for some sign that her friend was registering what she was saying.

  “But this time he says he’s changed . . .”

  “Oh, give me strength.” Rose flung her hands above her head, letting their weight carry her back onto the bed with a thud. “Shona, listen to yourself!”

  “I am,” Shona insisted, her eyes flashing in defiance. “I know him, I know him better than anyone. I’m not a fool, Rose. I know what I’d be taking on if I went back with him, I do. He has changed, and who else will give him a second chance if I don’t?”

  “Why does he deserve one?” Rose said angrily.

  “Because Ryan’s not like Dickhead,” Shona flashed back. “He’s not evil. He’s just stupid.”

  “But you love him anyway!”

  Rose could see that getting angry was just making Shona more determined. With some effort, she softened her voice, reaching out to touch her friend.

  “Shona,” she said gently, “my beautiful, brave, fierce, mad Shona, you aren’t afraid of anything except being alone. But you don’t have to be alone. There are a million better men out there!”

  “Not for me,” Shona said quietly, a single tear tracking down her cheek. “Yes, I know how it sounds, I know how impossible it must be to understand, but I miss him. I miss his shelter, the way he used to protect me from the whole world. If . . . if I could just have that feeling, one more time, of being with Ryan, you know, when everything’s good between us and he’s trying extra hard to be sweet. And we’ll go to bed and it will be so special, the care and love he’ll show me, and then after, he’ll wrap his arms around me—his big strong arms—and hold on to me like I’m the most precious, loved thing in the world and that feeling . . . it’s . . . it’s . . .” Shona couldn’t find the words she wanted. “I don’t know if I can ever feel that again unless it’s with him.”