I nod mutely.
Later, when I’ve drunk two glasses of Phillip’s best wine - thus guaranteeing myself a banging headache tomorrow - I look up Mel on Facebook chat.
Brittany: How’s work going?
Mel: Pretty good. I’ve completed my probationary period and they still want me.
Brittany: That’s wonderful.
Mel: Helen says I can apply for the training programme when I’ve been there a year and do a qualification in event management.
Brittany: Do you want to?
Mel: I think I might, actually. I like making things happen. And somehow things haven’t been going wrong for me in this job like they usually do.
I heave a sigh that she can’t hear.
Brittany: What about if you won the lottery and you never had to work again? Would you stay?
Mel: Are you serious? It’s not THAT good. I’d be out the door so fast they’d wouldn’t see me for dust!
Brittany: So you don’t like working for a living, then?
Mel: It sucks, but it’s unavoidable. Well, unless you marry money.
I end the conversation and sit by myself in the dark. I feel like I should be crying, but the tears don’t come.
Chapter 15
“... and I was thinking maybe lilies for the church, or should I go for roses? My cousin had orchids and they were lovely, but they’re so expensive and…”
Abby has not stopped talking about her wedding since she came in this morning. She and Toby have decided to tie the knot before the baby comes, which means as soon as possible. All the customers know, even the man who came to read the gas meter. I really hope I wasn’t this much of a bore about my own wedding, but I fear I probably was. I have a vague memory of going on and on about the relative merits of white and ivory napkins.
She stops and I thank my lucky stars. Then I realize she’s looking at me expectantly. “What do you think?” she asks.
I hesitate. “Abby, all your ideas sound lovely, but… are you sure you want to get married now? You’re only 18, he’s quite a bit older than you and you haven’t been together that long.”
“But you got married at 18, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” I say, “and I should have waited longer. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted, or even what questions to ask my fiancé about our life together. We’re dealing with a lot of issues now that we wouldn’t have had if I’d been more cautious. I don’t want you to be in the same position in five years.”
“Oh, but I won’t be,” she says, squeezing my arm, “because Toby’s so utterly wonderful and I love him so much. We’ve already planned out our whole future together and I know everything’s going to be fine.”
She looks so utterly certain. This is young love in all its treacherous glory. Nothing I say will make the slightest difference to her conviction, only our friendship.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you: we got the appointment through for our first scan! Oh, I’m so excited! I can’t wait to find out if it’s a girl or a boy!”
“They won’t be able to tell yet. You’ll have to wait for the next one.”
“Oh.” Abby’s face momentarily droops, then she recovers. “Oh, never mind. If I don’t know, I can look at clothes for both boys and girls, can’t I? And most stuff we’ll be buying in neutral colours anyway, because we want a big family. Oh, wouldn’t it be great if it was twins this time?”
I love her boundless enthusiasm for babies, for life, for everything. But...
“Abby… are you sure this is what you want?”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just… babies aren’t like they seem in the adverts. In fact, sometimes they’re absolute hell to live with. It’s not going to be this wonderful, snugly heaven. At least, not for a lot of the time.”
“Of course not!”
I look up at her, taken aback.
“I’ve helped my mum raise five younger ones and I know they can be little buggers, but you can’t help but love them anyway, can you? You get to play games with them and sing and help them learn everything - it’s so much fun! But I like to have a bit of adult company too, so I’m carrying on here part-time and Kristine says I can fix my hours so I can go to the local baby and toddler groups as well. And there’s a young mums group I can join, which sounds so great!”
I stare at her. “That’s… really smart,” I say. “You’ve obviously thought this through.”
“And of course Mum’s there to help and Aunty Carrie, Aunty Jackie and Aunty Pat and all my cousins – there’s five girls older than me. Plus Toby’s family has been so nice and he’s got three sisters and they all love kids. It looks like I’ll be beating babysitters off with a stick!”
“That’s wonderful,” I say. “You’ve got a proper extended family. There are mothers who would give their eye teeth for that.”
Me, for one.
“And… they’re all okay with you getting married so young?”
“Oh, we all do it. It’s normal.”
“I see. And do the marriages… last?”
She blinks. “Of course. Well, my dad died and Uncle Max got divorced, but that’s because his wife ran away with the man who came about the double-glazing.” Abby pulls a face. “Between you and me, she wasn’t very bright. But then, nor’s he.”
“Ah.”
“But apart from that, yeah, everyone’s together.”
“And… happy?”
Abby looks bemused. “Well, it would be pretty stupid to just stay together if they weren’t. They’d do something about it, wouldn’t they? No sense in carrying on being unhappy.”
“No,” I say, feeling very small.
“Plus, then their kids would think that’s normal and it would be passed on to them.”
Her artless words slap me in the face on their way past. Somehow, I’d only thought of the financial consequences for James. It never occurred to me before that Phillip’s and my relationship is his key example of marriage. He’ll grow up thinking his wife is someone who’s a prop in his life. Not a partner. Not someone he loves. Even if I could endure it for me, I don’t want a life like that for him.
I have to do something. But I need serious advice before I can act, and who I am supposed to turn to? Who do I know who’s good at fending for themselves? Who isn’t Zack.
“Kristine?” I ask, as the day comes to an end. “Could I ask your advice about something?”
Kristine stops partway through counting out tomorrow’s float. “Of course. What?”
“Well… money,” I say. “Budgeting, and living and managing on your own.”
She gives me a penetrating look and I’m sure she’s already worked out exactly why I’m asking.
“Perhaps you’d like to come round on Tuesday. We’ll have time to talk then.”
I smile nervously. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
“Finish cleaning the floor and I’ll give you my address.”
On Tuesday afternoon, James and I drive to the cheaper end of town, to a rather nondescript block of flats. I instinctively feel nervous, but everywhere looks reasonably well-maintained. I park the car on the road as close to the kerb as I can manage and fold the wing mirror in for good measure. This looks like the kind of street you get joy riders whizzing down.
I buzz the intercom for the flat labelled Smith. “Come up,” crackles Kristine’s voice.
I haul a sleeping James in his car seat, my handbag, the nappy bag, the mini cool bag of milk and snacks and James’s security blanket up the concrete stairs. I’ve never been so conscious of being spoiled. I’ve never in my life had to go upstairs to get into my home. How can you possibly manage in a place like this without a lift? How would I do this with a pushchair as well?
Kristine opens the door. She’s wearing jeans and I’m momentarily stunned. It’s like when you run into one of your old teachers at the supermarket.
“Please come in,” she says. “I’ve got a nice sponge cake ready.”
She takes some of my bags and I haul the rest inside.
Just inside the doorway, I stop short and gape at my surroundings. I was less stunned by the inside of Phillip’s parents’ house, which cost millions. This is a home. It’s a clean, neat, well-organized home. Admittedly, it’s not large or fancy, but it looks warm, comfortable and welcoming. I could see myself living here. If I got rid of most of James’s toys and my clothes.
“Come and sit down.”
“Thank you,” I manage. I put the car seat down on the floor and James carries on sleeping peacefully. He always falls asleep in there. I sometimes wonder if the seat cushions secrete a sedative. If so, the person who thought of that deserves a knighthood.
“Now, the basics,” Kristine says, bringing me a glass of water. “Are your bank accounts joint or separate?”
“Oh… er, joint.”
“Do you have your own account?”
“No.”
“Get one.”
“Right.”
Kristine nods to my bag. “You’ll want to make a list.”
“Of course.” I quickly grab it and pull out the notepad and pen I brought.
Kristine spends what seems like hours firing questions at me and giving instructions. My brain quickly jellifies, but she tells me precisely what to write down, so hopefully I’ll be able to make sense of her advice later.
“That will do for starters,” she says eventually.
Starters? I feel like I’ve done an entire A-level in an afternoon.
“Do you understand everything I’ve said?”
“I think so.” I grip my glass tightly. “But… it’s going to be hard, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
I have to smile. No sugar coating here.
“But women have managed to live and raise their children independently and successfully while enduring much greater hardship than having to shop at Aldi,” Kristine says. “You are not stupid and you are still young, so you are quite capable; it’s only a question of whether or not you are willing.”
“You’re right,” I say, nodding.
Confidence bubbles through me. I can do this; I’m not trapped or helpless. If I can manage to keep James alive and thriving all by myself, then I can figure out the rest as well.
It’s official: I’m getting divorced.
Just as soon as I work through my to-do list.
Chapter 16
When I get home from work the next day, I’m delighted to find Carly there, playing with James. She gives me a creditable smile as I enter the lounge.
“It’s so nice to see you,” I say, bending down to give her a hug. “How’s your mum doing?”
Carly swallows. “I’m afraid she passed away yesterday.”
I sit down beside her. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” She gives a weak smile. “It was very peaceful, she was ready to go and she died at home like she wanted. Everyone’s been down in these last few weeks to say goodbye and I was with her at the end. And the pain is over now.”
“Can I help with anything?”
“No, but thank you. Mum had a funeral plan, so it’s all paid for. I’ll let you know when it is.” She looks over to James. “Lauren’s run upstairs to the shower. James threw up down her cleavage.”
Ew. “Is he okay?”
“Fine. Just a liquid burp.”
I pick James up and give him a snuggle. He gurgles happily.
“What are you going to do now?” I ask.
“I’m working on cleaning up the house. I stripped one wall this morning, but there’s a fair bit to do before I can start painting.”
I frown. “Is it rented?”
“No, Mum owns it,” Carly swallows. “Owned. She had this thing about redecorating every few years. She declared it due six months ago, but she wasn’t well enough to stand the disruption and there wasn’t anywhere she could go. She made me swear I’d get down to it as soon as she was gone. Bit of an odd last request, huh?”
“Well, if that’s what she wanted.”
“She thought keeping busy was the best way to cope with grief. She did the whole house right after Dad died. The neighbours thought she was nuts. They decided he’d insisted on wallpaper she hated.”
“As coping methods go, it sounds quite positive.”
“I think so.”
I hesitate. “Are you still planning to come back to work?”
“Yes, and soon. We’ve been living off benefits and what I’ve got saved, so I can’t afford to fall apart, and I think I’ve done a lot of my grieving already. I’m not saying I’m fine, but I’ll manage.”
“James has missed you.”
“I’ve missed him too.” Carly strokes his downy hair.
Then she lowers her voice. “Brittany, can I ask about… Phillip?”
I hide my face against James’ head. “Well, as you probably know, Lauren did some digging on that front.”
Carly’s cheeks glow. “I’m sorry I let her get it out of me, but I was really bothered by the whole thing and I was sure she’d get to the truth. I wouldn’t let her tell me what she found, though. Not without asking you first.”
I fill her in on the sordid details. Carly goes pale. “Oh, my giddy aunt. I just thought he might be having an affair, not… well, that.”
“It is fairly unusual. Anyway, I spoke to him about getting either counselling or a divorce and he refused both options.”
“Oh.”
I put James back on his mat and he starts to crawl off. “I’m still going to go ahead with it, but I have a list of arrangements that I need to make first. The solicitor I went to advised me that I should move out to show that the marriage has broken down, but I can’t start looking for a place properly until I have the money for a deposit and the first month’s rent, and I can’t take much out of the main account in cash without Phillip noticing. I think I can sell some of my nicer clothes and jewellery - my wardrobe is the one place in the house Phillip never looks into - but that’s going to take a little time.”
Carly looks thoughtful. “Well… I have a house.”
I blink. I’d never thought of that.
“Mum’s house is mine now. Or will be, once the paperwork is sorted. And the mortgage is all paid off - my dad’s life insurance did that - so you wouldn’t need to pay rent, just half the bills. It’s not fancy, but it’s got three bedrooms and a little garden for James to play in. That would do, wouldn’t it? At least until you find somewhere that suits you, or you sort out child support and you have more money to play with.”
I look from her to James and back again. “Are you sure?”
“I was planning to find a roommate, anyway.”
“That would be brilliant,” I say, a smile breaking out on my face.
Then I hesitate. “Carly… the trouble is that I can’t see how I’m going to be able to pay your wages. Not until Phillip starts paying child support.”
Carly watches James crawl back to us. “Well, what I could do is take on another couple of kids. I’ll check the regulations, but I think I can do that without having to register with Ofsted. It does mean he won’t get my full attention, but that’s going to happen whatever childcare arrangements you make.”
“That’s brilliant,” I say, feeling quite teary. “Thank you so, so much.”
“It’s no problem,” Carly says, as we hug. “And don’t worry, I promise to tell the neighbours that you’re not my girlfriend.”
I laugh into her shoulder, happy in the knowledge that I have friends - even if I soon won’t have a husband.
“Very important!” Penny says, rapping on her work bench at the start of that week’s cake decorating class. “I have entry forms for the autumn craft fair. Anyone interested, see me.”
“What’s that?” I ask Zack, as we gather our tools.
“There’s a big fair every year and they run competitions in each secti
on. It’s definitely worth going to. A lot of professionals go in for it and they produce some fabulous stuff.”
“And we can enter?”
“Anyone can, so long as they can fill in a form.”
I feel a rush of excitement - and nerves - at the idea of my work being displayed for everyone in town to see. People in the class seem to like it, but would anyone else?
“I think you should have a go,” Zack says. “Your work is good. The top prizes go to professionals, but you might get an honourable mention.”
“You think?”
“Penny,” Zack asks, as she approaches, “do you think Brittany should enter the craft fair?”
“Definitely,” Penny says, nodding. “I always encourage students to have a go, but I think you’d do particularly well. See me at the end of class and we’ll talk about what sort of thing to do for it.”
“There you go,” Zack says, as she moves on again.
“I don’t know,” I say, fiddling with my celstick. “I’ve never done anything like that before. The only thing I’ve made that people have admired is James. Oh, and my sister raves about my lasagne.”
“First time for everything.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Now, I’m nipping out to buy a lottery ticket,” Penny tells the class. “It’s a big rollover and I don’t want to miss it.”
“What would you do if you won the lottery?” I ask Zack, as I mould autumn leaves. “Would you still work at the bakery?”
“Nope,” he says. “I’d buy a bigger one.”
“Even if you won £30 million and never needed to work again?”
“Even then.”
Maybe not everyone hates working for a living.
“You really love your job?”
He grins. “Yes, I really do. Sorry to disappoint, but if I won - which is unlikely, since I don’t play - I would be one of those who carried right on working. I’d buy me a nice bakery on the sea front and a house, top up my pension and invest.” He pauses. “Although, if I still had loads of money left over, I might splash out and buy a Ferrari.”
But I Said Forever Page 10
