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But I Said Forever

Page 15

by Jennifer Gilby Roberts


  I have to smile at this description of Lauren. “She’s upstairs, bubbling.”

  “Cat fight?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What about?”

  While I’m still debating how to answer, Carly does. “Brittany and her husband have decided to give things another try. She’s moving back in.”

  I shoot her a murderous glance. I get a steady gaze back.

  Zack has stopped work. “Seriously? After all we went through to get you that video, you’re going back to him?”

  “I’m very grateful for what you did...”

  “To a man who hits you.”

  “He didn’t hit me, he grabbed my arm. Once. He apologized and has been forgiven. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “And pays people to hit him.”

  “He’s promised to stop and he’s getting treatment.”

  Zack rams a drill bit into the drill. “I take it Lauren told you not to go.”

  “Forcefully.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll listen to her.”

  I can’t take this.

  “Please, please, will you all just stop it? It’s hard enough to convince myself to go, without you all...”

  I break off. “I’m going to bed,” I say. “Just leave me alone.”

  “Please tell me you’ve changed your mind about going back?” is the first thing Zack says to me when I go into the kitchen the next day to decorate some cupcakes.

  I nearly walk straight back out again. “No, I haven’t.”

  He slams down a bowl. “Brittany, you can’t...”

  “Don’t tell me what I can’t do!” I snap. “I’ve had enough of people dictating to me. Why doesn’t anyone trust me?”

  Zack is quiet for a minute, then he shakes his head. “Look, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to dictate to you, I’m... Brittany, I’m seriously concerned about that guy. I know I’ve only met him once...”

  “Exactly, you’ve only met him once. I’ve known him for six years - I’m married to him - and yet everyone seems to think they know him better than me.”

  I start gathering my things together. “He’s not a bad man. No, things haven’t been good recently, but if we try hard I’m sure they can get better.”

  “Do you still love him?”

  No.

  “People can fall back in love.”

  “Then do you still respect him?”

  “Yes.” I stare into my mixing bowl. “I believe him when he says he wants to address the problems in our marriage and I’m sure he’ll work very hard at it now he’s decided. I expect we’ll soon be very happy again.”

  Several long minutes tick by.

  “Well, all right,” Zack says. “No one can accuse you of taking your marriage vows lightly. Just… if you’re going to do it, give it a proper go. Don’t go back and be unhappy.”

  “I don’t want that either.”

  But is it what I’m going to get?

  On Monday night, I take James into my bed. I’ll probably destroy months of patient work on his sleep habits, but I need to be with him. Phillip would never allow co-sleeping - not even when James was ill and I’d looked into how to do it safely. I’ll never have another chance.

  I lay my hand on him so I can feel him breathing. I love his tummy; it’s so warm and soft. I wish it was summer again so he didn’t have to be bundled up in vests.

  “I can do this for you,” I tell him softly. “I want you to have everything, including a mummy and daddy who love each other. I’ll learn to love Daddy again and soon these few months will just be a bad dream.”

  He snuffles in response.

  There will be things we can do to improve our relationship. Perhaps I’ll suggest that he considers a career change. If he didn’t need to protect himself so much at work, he’d open up again surely? And we can find a common interest. I could even give golf a try. Maybe we should leave James with my parents and take a holiday together. Time to relax and spend time as a couple is bound to help.

  Zack is right; I have to fully commit. I’ve already wasted too much of my life feeling unhappy, but doing nothing to change things. I’m going to do everything I possibly can to rebuild my marriage.

  Just as long as Phillip does too.

  Chapter 24

  On Tuesday, Phillip is on the doorstep at 8 am. He sets about dismantling James’s cot, while Carly and I pack the rest and keep James entertained, since Lauren has vanished somewhere without a word. I suppose that’s better than stabbing Phillip with the bread knife as she previously threatened.

  “One of the other childminders in the group I go to recommended a marriage counsellor,” Carly says, as she folds my clothes neatly into a suitcase. “I’ve got the details written down for you. Unless you’ve got someone sorted out already?”

  I zip up the other suitcase. “I haven’t looked yet. Thank you.”

  “You haven’t said if I’m coming back to live with you.”

  I sit on the suitcase. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t even thought about it. Of course you’re coming back. At least, if you want to. You can live here and commute if you prefer.”

  “I’m not sure.” Carly fiddles with her necklace. “Brittany, I can give notice to the twins’ parents straight away that they need to find another childminder, but in the meantime… I’m going to have to take care of them at your house, because to look after them here I need to be registered with Ofsted and I’m not. I know it makes no sense, but that’s the rules.”

  Three small children with sticky fingers running around the world’s least child-friendly house.

  “Of course you can,” I say, forcing a smile, “and yes, give notice straight away.”

  I’ll call the cleaner tonight and beg for some extra hours.

  Carly smiles. “I have to admit it’ll be a relief to go back to just having James. One-on-one work means you can really focus on the child. It’s been a bit of a struggle having three little ones all the time. I’ve never done it before and I rather underestimated how hard it would be.”

  I feel a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry, the last few months haven’t been easy for you either, have they? What with Lauren and I fighting, and all the extra work you’ve taken on. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please just ask. In fact, as soon as the move is over, I’ll speak to Phillip about giving you a bonus. Or a holiday? Maybe to a spa, where you can really relax?”

  “Well, I can’t deny…”

  Phillip sticks his head into the room. “I’m going to start packing the car,” he says. “Are you finished?”

  “Not far off.”

  “Good, because I have an appointment I have to rush off to.”

  “I thought we were going to spend the rest of the day together?”

  “I’m sorry, darling, I couldn’t reschedule. It won’t take long.”

  “Okay.”

  Phillip carries the case I’ve packed down the stairs and I bring the lighter parts of the cot. I notice the stair rail has a smear on it and resist the impulse to fetch a cloth. This isn’t my home anymore. Carly can fight with Lauren over the cleaning now.

  We’re arranging things in the car boot when a 4x4 screeches up. Phillip and I both look up, startled. What thoughtless driving on a residential street.

  Then I recognize the car. It’s Zack’s.

  For one moment, I think he’s raced over here to tell me that he can’t live without me and I am stupidly, ridiculously happy. A fresh wave of doubt nearly drowns me. Oh help, I really, really don’t think I can do this.

  Then Lauren jumps out of the passenger seat and launches herself towards us. “Stop!”

  “What do you mean, stop?” Phillip says, frowning at her and shoving a piece of cot into the car with more force than strictly necessary.

  She rolls her eyes at him as Zack gets out of the car. “I mean stop,” she says. “As in halt, desist, cease, finish, freeze...”

  “Yes, I
know what stop means. Why?”

  She comes up to me, brandishing a memory stick. “I’ve got something to show you,” she says. “And this you definitely want to see.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Phillip says for the fifth time. “Brittany, I told you we need to get going.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Lauren says, spinning her laptop round so I can see the screen. “Watch this and weep.”

  I do, because I am desperately hoping she’s found me an out that will satisfy my conscience as well as my heart. I see Phillip, in what I presume to be the dungeon’s reception, and the footage is date-stamped yesterday.

  “You!” Phillip says, turning purple. “You’re the one who got that video. You broke into a private computer and illegally copied files. I should march you down to the police station right now and...”

  “Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Lauren says, folding her arms. “Do you want to be the next YouTube star?”

  “Brittany, you can’t possibly believe this...”

  I look up at him, overwhelmed by relief, and I know then that this was all hopeless. No matter how I tried to convince myself otherwise, my marriage isn’t salvageable. Not even my love for my son is enough.

  “Phillip, you’ve been caught on camera doing exactly what you promised you wouldn’t do only days ago.”

  “She must have altered the date on it.”

  I look over at Zack. He shakes his head.

  “This is none of your business!” Phillip snaps at him.

  “It’s my business because I’m her friend and I don’t want to see her double-crossed,” Zack says.

  Phillip turns to me. “Surely one lapse...”

  “You’ve not only been back, but you’ve arranged your next appointment. You can’t call that a lapse.”

  I lay my hands on the table and get up. “Well, I’d better start unpacking the car.”

  Phillip catches my arm. “Brittany...”

  “No, Phillip,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. “This is a deal-breaker. We can’t stay married, because I don’t respect you anymore. For James’s sake, I’ll maintain a civil relationship with you: I won’t try to stop you seeing him, or bad mouth you to him. But I won’t be coming back. Not now, not ever.”

  Phillip’s face flushes. “Brittany, I warn you...”

  Zack starts to square up to him, but Lauren beats him to it. “Get out, or be thrown out,” she says. “Your choice. We’re good with either.”

  Phillip looks around the four of us. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says. Then he spins on his heel and walks out.

  I release a deep breath as the door slams behind him.

  I’ll never be fully free of him - not with James - but he can no longer dictate to me. My life is my own.

  I turn to Lauren. “Thank you,” I say. “I’m sorry for every time I’ve yelled at you. I’ll never forget this. I owe you so much.”

  She shrugs. “No worries. It wasn’t about you.”

  I have to smile. “No. I didn’t think it was.”

  I’m too giddy to sleep that night. I eventually get up and go down to the kitchen for a snack. And I find Carly, crying quietly into a cup of coffee.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask, pulling the other chair round so I can sit next to her.

  “Nothing,” she says, quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Just something in my eye.”

  Why does anyone bother with that lie?

  I take her hand. “Me not going back to Phillip means things aren’t going to get better for you, doesn’t it? It could take months before I can pay you properly and there’s no money for a bonus or a fancy holiday.”

  All I get is silence, but I’m sure I’m right.

  “We’ll work something out,” I say, squeezing her hand. “I promise I won’t yell at Lauren about being messy in front of you, I’ll double-check if there are any more benefits I qualify for, I’ll start searching for a good deal on a spa break, I’ll ask Kristine for a raise, hopefully we’ll get child support sorted soon, and I’ll even look around for a better-paid job. Just hang in there and I promise I’ll pay you back for everything you’ve done for me.”

  Carly turns red-rimmed eyes to me and I pull her into a hug.

  “Thank you,” she says into my shoulder. “Please don’t think I want you to go back to him, because I don’t. It’s just hard and…” A fresh wave of tears comes. “Brittany, I miss my mum.”

  “I know,” I say, even though I don’t really, and concentrate on holding her tight.

  Chapter 25

  One week of being emotionally divorced and I feel brilliant. Planning for Abby’s wedding cake is well underway, the Christmas cake I made to raffle off at work is attracting real interest and Phillip hasn’t called once.

  The only stumbling block is my dad, who is now calling every day asking how much food there is in the house, whether we’ve paid the gas bill and when I’m coming home. It didn’t help that Lauren answered one call and he didn’t realize that what she said was sarcasm. I keep expecting him to turn up on the doorstep and try to carry us off.

  I check my email. 10% off at Linens Direct (where?), Meet Local Sluts (I wonder if it’s anyone I know), Job Opportunity at... wait - it’s from Hannah at Creative Cakes.

  Heart hammering against my chest, I open it.

  Dear past student

  You’ve received this email because you previously attended a workshop at Creative Cakes.

  We have an opening in our team for a JUNIOR CAKE DESIGNER. Details of the post and our requirements are attached. If you are interested in applying for this position, please email your CV and covering letter to this address by FRIDAY 5 DECEMBER.

  Best wishes

  Hannah

  An actual job. A chance to learn from people who know what they’re doing and not have to go out on my own.

  I hurriedly open the attachments. They’re not asking for qualifications or professional experience, just a portfolio of designs. I could apply for this job. Maybe even get it.

  Of course, there’ll be tons of other applicants. Penny says you can’t swing a dead cat around Cornwall without hitting a cake designer, and many will have more experience and bigger and better portfolios.

  But what if?

  I bring up my CV as fast as I can with my fingers slipping on the keyboard. Help, what do I write?

  I grab the phone. Then I realize I don’t know the number I need. I dig my mobile out of my bag and scroll through my address book. Stupid phone; how do you start at the end of the alphabet? Try a W. There! I dial my brother-out-of-law.

  “I need your help with my CV again,” I tell Will. “Can I email you the job details?”

  “And hello to you too.”

  “Goodness, I’m sorry, where are my manners? But I just got an email about a job I would kill for - almost literally. It’s a really rare opportunity and one might never come up again around here and...”

  Will laughs. “I get the picture. Do you have any idea how much you sound like your sister right now?”

  I laugh back. “I suppose I do. But, will you help? Please?”

  “Of course I will.”

  Every day after the deadline, I check my email the second I get home. I wish I still had a smart phone, but it had to go in the moving out economy drive. Every time there’s nothing, my heart sinks a little lower. I shouldn’t have got my hopes up. I probably won’t even get an interview.

  Maybe I should chain myself to their door and go on a hunger strike until they hire me.

  I think I’ve gone a bit strange.

  When I finally get a response, my hands start shaking so much I almost knock the laptop off my knees.

  Dear Brittany

  Thank you for your application for the post of JUNIOR CAKE DESIGNER. We would like to interview you on WEDNESDAY 17 DECEMBER at 1PM.

  The rest becomes a blur. I did it! Well, Will did it. But I’ve got an interview!

  Help, I haven’t attended a proper inter
view... ever. What do I say? What do I wear? What if I make a total fool of myself and ruin my chances? What if I get so nervous I start singing or shouting obscenities or something? What if I do a Mel and turn up with odd shoes and hair smelling of wine?

  James cries above me. Not again - he must have another tooth coming through. I quickly close my email and run upstairs.

  Amazingly, my jittery state doesn’t help him resettle. I have to force myself to calm down in order to soothe him. Slowly, my equilibrium returns. With all the social training I’ve had, a job interview should be well within my skills. I just need to channel Stepford Brittany. Will already had me write down every scrap of relevant experience and training I had in order to put together my CV. Surely all I need apart from that is to be likeable?

  Am I likeable?

  I hardly know. I spent hours learning how to pronounce the names of posh party nibbles and when to use whom instead of who, but no one thought it was necessary to teach me how to be nice. And, in the process, I lost all my friends, so I don’t think nice was a side effect.

  I suppose I’ll just have to go, be myself and pray that they like me.

  Help.

  When James goes back to sleep, I once again find myself turning to my sister. It’s so nice to be able to do that. I wish I hadn’t gone without it for so long.

  Brittany: What if I can’t do it? What if I go there and make a total fool of myself?

  Mel: From someone who does that quite frequently: you’ll survive. What’s really bothering you?

  I stare at the ceiling.

  Brittany: Maybe I’m just meant to be a housewife. That’s what Dad told me. All I ever heard was how I was perfect for that role.

 

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