Stand by Your Man

by Gil McNeil

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. Absolutely. I know I didn’t want this baby at first, but I really do now, and I know I just won’t be able to cope if I try to sort it out now. It can’t be good for the baby, can it? The tension of just seeing him today made me realise. I know it sounds loopy, but I know I can’t do it – I’m too tired. So I’m going to try to pretend nothing’s happened. Just for a few weeks. Does that sound mad?’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘And I think it will do us both good. Give us a bit of distance. I’m so angry now, if I started I don’t think I’d ever stop. Not just about Dan, it’s everything really. Trying to keep everybody happy, do the right thing by Lily, and him, and work. I’m just so tired and I haven’t got the energy. It’s not that I don’t care or anything, but I just can’t face it. You know what I mean, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘And I’m so fucking disappointed in him. I thought he was better than that. I mean I know things have been tough lately, but I never thought he’d do something like this. And it’s no good blaming it all on Lola.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  God, that’s so typical of Molly, always trying to be fair. And I know she’s right, but somehow I’m more angry with Lola than Dan, which doesn’t really make sense. It’s just that I know it wouldn’t have been Dan’s idea. I mean he might have gone along with it, got caught up in all the attention and excitement, but Lola would have been in charge. It would have been her idea. Because everything always is.

  ‘There is one thing, though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Will you come with me to the hospital? I mean I’m sure I’ll be all right with the midwives, they all seem really great, but it’d be nice to have a friendly face.’

  ‘Of course I will. But I’ll be crap, I’m warning you.’

  ‘You won’t. But it’s OK. I mean if it gets too much you can go out for a walk – I won’t mind. But I don’t think I want Dan there. I mean I might change my mind at the last minute, but I don’t think I will. You don’t think I’m mad, do you? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Of course. And I’d love to be there. Only I’m not sure I’d choose me to rely on when push comes to shove. Oh sorry.’

  ‘Very funny.’

  ‘Do you want a drink, or anything to eat?’

  ‘No, but I’d love a little sleep. Is that awful? It’s just that I’m so tired. Would you mind, only for half an hour? And then I’ll take Alfie home with us or something, so you can get a bit of peace.’

  ‘Don’t be daft, sleep as long you like. I’m not doing anything. I’ve got to go to the supermarket later, but that’s all.’

  ‘OK, how about I have a sleep and then I’ll stay here with the kids while you go shopping. How’s that? Save you taking Alfie round?’

  ‘Now you’re talking. And I can get some stuff for you too if you want.’

  ‘I really fancy spaghetti. I’ve been craving pasta all day. I’ll make supper, if you like. Does Alfie like mushrooms?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK. I’ll do my special spaghetti. And we can have ice cream for pudding. Dark chocolate for us, vanilla for the kids. Actually, I’m not sure I’m supposed to have dark chocolate – I think it’s full of caffeine. Well, bugger it. Oh this is great. All I have to do is sleep, and then make a list. Lovely, just like being a princess.’

  I can’t really think of anyone less like a princess, bless her. She waddles off upstairs, and I sit with the kids and try to avoid getting covered in wet sand.

  Christ. This just gets worse. Molly’s back at home and has just rung to say Doreen’s turned up on her doorstep in a terrible state, saying that Dan’s staying with her and he’s told her all about it, and she just wanted a word.

  ‘And then she told me that these things happen, and apparently Dan’s dad did something similar, with a woman who worked at the local pub. Dan was three and his brother had just been born, and his dad went off for a fortnight and then came home and pretended nothing had happened. And she says she just got on with it, and in the end it was fine and she got over it. But I don’t think she ever really got over it, not really.’

  ‘Well, that explains a lot of things.’

  ‘I know. I felt almost sorry for her, all that anger bottled up. No wonder she’s such a nightmare. I really don’t want to end up like that. And then she said didn’t I think it would be best if Dan came home.’

  ‘She didn’t? God, what a cheek.’

  ‘She said she knew it wouldn’t be easy, but really what choice did I have, with the new baby and everything. And then I lost my temper and said I had lots of choices and that it wasn’t the dark ages any more, and women didn’t have to just put up with crap if they didn’t want to. I told her we might split up, and I’ll go it alone and be much happier, or we might work things out. But I’d decide when I was good and ready.’

  ‘Oh good for you, and what did she say?’

  ‘Well, she took it rather well, to be honest. She said she admired me – it was funny, it was like she really meant it. And she squeezed my hand. It was odd. It was like she was almost proud of me. It was a bit annoying really. I thought she’d storm off and I could feel victorious. And then she said she wanted to help, and if I needed any cleaning done she’d be more than happy to come over. Any time. I won’t ask her, of course, but can you believe it?’

  ‘Not really. But my bathroom’s filthy if you think she’d be interested.’

  Charles has been trying to avoid telling anyone where Lola is, but it’s getting quite tricky. Mrs Bishop has been asking questions, and so far he’s just said she’s busy at work and is staying in town for a few days. But she’s not convinced and the Garden Society have been busy going into overdrive: it’s only a couple of weeks until the judges come round for the competition, so they’re all spending hours weeding and generally making everything as pristine as possible.

  ‘I just don’t want anyone knowing until we’ve sorted things out.’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Her latest plan is that we all move back to London and we give it another go.’

  ‘Oh.’

  God, I really hope he doesn’t fall for it.

  ‘But I don’t think there’s any point. I mean she’s done it before – that’s why we moved down here really – and she’s bound to do it again. But I don’t know. What do you think? Should I give it another go?’

  I really want to say no, she’s a complete bitch and you’re better off without her but I don’t think I should. I mean apart from anything else he might still love her or something.

  ‘I don’t know, Charles. Do you want to give it another try?’

  ‘I don’t, if I’m honest, but I want to do the right thing for the children. Actually, I think the only reason she doesn’t want a divorce is money.’

  I think he’s absolutely right, but I don’t want to make things worse.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘She’s always been obsessed with it, and she keeps going on about wanting half of my family money – it’s all in trusts – but we own the house jointly, so I should be able to give her half the value of the house, and a bit more, but that’s not enough. She always wants more. Anyway, I don’t want to move back to London. I hated it there, I always felt slightly useless, but down here I don’t. And I love the garden. I know it’s daft, but I do. And she’d only do it again, I know she would. Things haven’t been right for ages. It’s my fault. I should have sorted something out ages ago but I just couldn’t face it. I thought it would be better for the children, you know, that sort of thing. Stupid of me really.’

  He’s gone bright red and looks very upset.

  ‘No it wasn’t. You were trying to do the right thing. That’s never stupid. Where’s she staying at the moment?’

  ‘With a friend in town, but she’ll be home at the weekend, she says, and she wants to take the children – I mean if we don’t all mov
e back to London. She says when she gets settled she’ll have them live with her, but I already know she won’t. She just needs to find a way to explain it to her friends and she’ll be quite happy leaving them down here with me, seeing them for the occasional weekend. I just need to give her enough money so she can get the right kind of house. It all comes back down to money. I know that sounds dreadful, but it’s true. Sometimes I think it’s the only reason she married me.’

  ‘Oh Charles, that can’t be true.’

  ‘Maybe. In the beginning we were pretty happy, but she was different then. She’s got worse over the years, which is probably my fault. Anyway, I think I’m going to say no. To the new start, I mean. I don’t think it’ll do the children any good. They pick up on all the tension.

  ‘She was talking about sending Ezra off to boarding school – did you know? Over my dead body. I might be hopeless but at least I can spare him that. I hated mine. Really hated it. And she knows that. I think that’s when I knew really, that there was no point. I won’t have him packed off. He can stay with me. That’s got to be better, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. I’m sure it is.’

  ‘Anyway, sorry for going on like this. I’m sure it will all sort itself out eventually. How’s Molly?’

  ‘Fine. I mean she’s still a bit shell-shocked, but she’s hanging on for the baby before she decides anything.’

  ‘I must say I do feel dreadful about that – about Molly, I mean.’

  ‘Well, it’s hardly your fault.’

  ‘Oh it is, in a way. It always takes two people to screw up a marriage, you know, Alice.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  God, he’s such a grown-up. But I know he’s right really.

  ‘Anyway, I meant to say, about the garden, Frank was saying he thinks we stand a chance, you know, he thinks they’ll like it. I really hope so – we could all do with some good news for a change, and they’ve all worked so hard on it.’

  ‘You’ve worked hard too, Charles. And for what it’s worth I think you’re probably right about Lola, and the children are bound to be better off if you’re both happier, when things are sorted out.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘Yes. And I hope we win something for the garden, because it’ll drive Lola crazy, missing out on all the glory.’

  ‘Knowing her, she’ll find a way to take all the credit.’

  ‘Oh I think she’ll have a hard job. Not if Mrs Pomeroy’s got anything to do with it.’

  The weather’s gone all hot and stormy again, and we’re all completely fed up with it. Cindy’s managed to drag Patric off to Majorca to some posh hotel that must be costing a fortune. I hope his heat rash isn’t playing him up too much.

  Molly and I decide to take the kids to the beach for the afternoon, because they’re driving us crazy being stuck at home. They run in and out of the sea up to their knees giggling until Alfie falls over and gets soaked, but at least we’re all slightly cooler. Then they move on to building sandcastles and collecting buckets of water for their moat, while we sit on the sand on a blanket supervising, drinking tea from the thermos, sneaking the occasional biscuit when they’re not looking.

  ‘Are you sleeping any better?’

  ‘Not really. I feel like I’m in a permanent fog. It’s quite nice actually, as long as I don’t try to do anything.’

  ‘How was Dan on Sunday?’

  ‘Oh fine. I mean he arrived, and he stuck to the deal, and didn’t say anything. He just played with Lily and then I made lunch and she seemed all right, like everything was normal. And then he said he had to go off to work and she didn’t seem that bothered, to be honest.’

  ‘And how did you feel seeing him again?’

  ‘Oh, still pretty furious, but somehow this deal about not doing anything until after this one’s born really helps. You do think I’m right, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve told you. I mean how can you possibly know now how you’re going to feel? God, by the last few weeks with Alfie I was so overwhelmed by it all I really wouldn’t have noticed if the entire world had collapsed as long as the maternity ward was still open.’

  ‘Good. Because sometimes I think it means I don’t love him, and there’s no point. I mean if I really loved him I’d want to kill him, wouldn’t I? Actually, I do want to kill him, but I just can’t summon up the energy at the moment.’

  ‘There you are then. I think the only thing it means is that you’re pregnant.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘God, look at him.’

  A rather gorgeous man is walking down the beach, with a little girl balanced on his shoulders. She’s wearing a sunhat that is about three sizes too big, and a pink sundress.

  ‘Oh sweet. Lily had a dress a bit like that.’

  ‘He’s gorgeous.’

  ‘Yes. But he knows it. And just watch, some poor woman will stagger along behind him in a minute, carrying all the bags. Just you wait.’

  Sure enough a young woman appears, quite a way behind him, and she’s got one of those trendy three-wheel buggies, which looks like hard work on the sand. And she’s draped with all sorts of bags, and an umbrella, and a blanket.

  ‘Typical.’

  We do a quick survey of the beach to reassure ourselves that behind the façade of happy families there’s actually quite a lot of seething tension. There seem to be lots of men sauntering along with the car keys and a small bucket, while the women trot along behind them, loaded down like donkeys. We do spot one man who’s carrying all the kit, while his wife, who’s wearing a sarong, carries a magazine and her mobile phone. She’s obviously furious, probably at finding herself on a British beach instead of St Tropez.

  Then a young couple arrive who are sharing their bags pretty equally. They’ve got a small baby who must be having his first trip to the seaside. They’ve brought every bit of kit going: one of those special tents that blocks UV rays, with mosquito netting, an umbrella, a playmat, a huge bag of toys, just in case he gets bored, and a video camera so they can capture the moment when he first claps eyes on the sea.

  They both look knackered, and handle the baby like he’s an unexploded bomb, constantly changing the position of his tent, or his hat. But they look so proud of him, and Molly says, ‘Dan and I used to be like that once,’ and goes all quiet.

  But just when I think she might get upset a really horrible red-faced man arrives and starts yelling at his wife and kids. He’s practically marched them on to the beach in formation, and a pale, tired-looking woman is carrying an enormous cool bag, and the minute she puts it down on the sand he yells, ‘Not there, Maureen,’ and she has to move it.

  Then he gets out his rubber mallet and puts up windbreaks in a huge square with a tiny gap as the entrance to his camp. He’ll probably be posting sentries later. He shouts at the two boys to take up their positions for a game of Frisbee, but the smaller one is useless at catching things, and gets yelled at repeatedly, and told he’s an idiot.

  ‘I can’t stand it. I’m going to have to go over and say something. I hate bullies like him.’

  ‘Oh Molly, don’t. He’ll probably shout at you too.’

  ‘I hope he does – I could do with a good shout. He might get more than he bargained for.’

  But before we have time to get Molly up and on her feet something completely marvellous happens. The little boy who’s been told he’s an idiot throws the Frisbee back to his father and it whizzes past his head, missing him by inches. As he leaps up to catch it he loses his balance and falls flat on his face, into the wet sand at the edge of sea. It makes a really satisfying squelching noise, and almost the entire beach has seen it, you can just tell. Everyone smiles, and someone even claps. Actually, I think that might have been Molly.

  ‘Thank God for that.’

  He gets up and walks rather stiffly back to his camp. And just when we’re all having visions of terrible retribution inside the windbreaks the wife comes out, and cuddles the little boy. And gives him what looks lik
e a KitKat, only we can’t quite see. If I’d known it was going to be this fascinating I’d have brought binoculars. Mum’s got some, Jim got them for her for Christmas, and she loves them. She says she uses them for watching the birds but actually she spends ages watching the neighbours.

  ‘This is better than EastEnders. Look, that snooty woman in the sarong’s going into the sea. She’s going to get a terrible shock – I bet she doesn’t realise how cold it is.’

  She seems to hesitate, as if she can’t quite believe how cold the water is, and wants to make a formal complaint to the management, but she’s very determined and ploughs on. Maybe she’s trying to get to France.

  We eat our picnic, with sand, and then we have a paddle.

  ‘The baby’s at the seaside too, isn’t it, Mummy?’

  ‘Yes, Lily.’

  ‘Does it want to come out and have a swim? It can borrow my armbands.’

  ‘Not yet, poppet, but thank you for saying you’ll share your armbands. That was very nice.’

  Alfie looks at Molly’s tummy, and then moves a bit closer and shouts very loudly, ‘Come out, come out. We’re at the seaside, and we’ve got armbands,’ and then he knocks, as if he were knocking on a door. Luckily Molly doesn’t seem to mind.

  ‘He must be asleep. I bet he’ll be cross when he’s waked up and knows he missed the seaside.’

  Not nearly as cross as Molly’s going to be if she ends up giving birth on the beach.

  ‘Actually, Alfie, I think you’re right, the baby’s having a sleep at the moment. Shall we have another paddle?’

  Alfie and Lily start trying to jump over the waves just before they break on the shore.

  ‘Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Moll. Is there some book I should be reading, or a pamphlet or something, from the hospital?’

  ‘What, like how to be a good birthing partner?’