To: [email protected]
Attachment: Numbers re 27a
Subject: 27a Hawthorn Avenue
Hi D,
That email address still makes me smile. Do you like mine? Fitz’s suggestion …
While I was in the States, I had planning consent through for that extension that you drew years ago which will give the children that third bedroom we need. The twins are getting older. We need more space – I can’t afford to move and this is the best way. Your dad has agreed to loan me the money – he’s insisted on it in fact and he’s trying very hard to give me the money, but I really want to do this on my own and will be able to if you agree to increasing our mortgage a bit? I’ll pay the extra monthly portion it will cost? I’ve attached some figures here, so you can have a look.
I’m hoping you can see the sense in this – we need the space here, we really do, and the flat is ultimately an investment for both of us.
We’d go out the back into the garden and create an open-plan living room off the kitchen and a third bedroom in the existing living room at the front – remember the drawings?
What do you think?
If you want to, if it will help you decide, come around and have a look again this evening or tomorrow evening.
Let me know,
Erin.
Dom typed an immediate reply.
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: 20 May 2006 18:37
To: [email protected]
Re: 27a Hawthorn Avenue
Hi
I’m busy tonight but could come tomorrow evening. Can I see the kids beforehand?
D
-----Original Message-----
From: [email protected]
Sent: 20 May 2006 19:01
To: [email protected]
Re: 27a Hawthorn Avenue
Would you mind coming over after they’ve settled? I don’t want to confuse them, and they would be if they saw you here. If you come for 9pm?
Erin
From: [email protected]
Sent: 20 May 2006 19:22 PM
To: [email protected]
Re: 27a Hawthorn Avenue
Erin, I’ll be there at 9 tomorrow evening. D
20th May 2006
Gorgeous Erin,
So, I’ve just had the kids for a few days while you were in the States and kudos to you.
I’m not sure how you do it alone.
I took them to Center Parcs and the weather was wet, and I was a neurotic idiot in case they ran off or slipped on damp leaves or something and I’d have to give one of them to you with plaster of Paris on some body part. So, we swam a lot in the heated pool where they were in my eyeline all the time. They loved it. I loved it. But, Christ, was I exhausted! Bed asleep by ten every night.
Rachel really does not stop talking at all, does she?! If she came with an on/off switch I’d have turned her off for at least an hour a day, just to catch my breath. But, God, is she fun to be around. Soaks up everything. I can’t imagine her taking any shit when she’s older. Remind you of anyone?
‘Daddy, why are these trees so tall? Daddy, why are they so green? (Thought she was a bit young for photosynthesis, so that was one of the times I replied, ‘because they just are).’
‘Daddy, do you prefer white or brown bread? Why? Mummy says brown bread is better for us but I like white bread when it’s toasted.’ Agree. Totally.
‘Daddy, what’s snot made of?’ Honestly!
‘Daddy, why can’t “fumans“ breathe under water?’
‘Daddy, you have a fat belly.’ Yes. Less toast with runny butter for me when I get home.
And Jude … Our quiet little boy who lets his sister do all the talking for him and seems happy enough with that status quo. Jude, the little boy who draws with his left hand and writes some of his letters back to front. I’m a leftie too and used to do the same. Just in case you were worried – he’ll grow out of that. Hopefully, he’ll grow into taking part a bit more too? Have you noticed how much he’s a watcher?
Yes, I know. I can hear you echo, ‘Remind you of anyone?’
It was fun. I loved having them. We missed you. They missed you; often wondered what you were doing and couldn’t really get the whole time difference thing when you called.
I’ll sign off for now, leave you with something Rachel said in the car on the way back:
R: Daddy, do you love Mummy?
Me: Yes, darling, I do.
R: Does Mummy love you?
Me: I’m really not sure …
R: I think she does love you.
Me: no response.
R: I think if two ‘fumans’ love each other they should live in the same place like we used to.
Me: But you love coming to Daddy’s too, don’t you?
R: I loved it more when you were home with me and Jude and Mummy.
It’s sad. I can’t tell you in person what she said, and I can’t tell her that she’ll get her happy-ever-after ending. BUT! I live to fight another day. Softly, softly, slowly, slowly.
If I get my way. Rachel will get her wish someday.
Love you mightily,
Dom xx
21st May 2006
To the one and only, beautiful Erin the Brave,
A hug. I got a hug. From YOU, that’s you to me, not me to you. And Jesus, I tried to make it last just a fraction longer than I should have. But it was contact! Only terribly brief but I remember my lips touching your cheek and it was all I could do not to lock you in the hall cupboard and yell to the kids, ‘I’M HOME!’
I talked to myself in the car on the way over. Seriously, actually addressed myself in the rear-view mirror, warning me to play it cool. I’d already told you I was busy the previous evening (white lie) so cool and collected when I got there was important. And I hugged you for that tiny extra nanosecond and I felt you pull away. Bad move, Dominic. Not cool at all, Dominic.
Anyway, we had a glass of wine together as we went over the plans for the flat.
Let me just get that out of the way immediately. I’ve always known and been worried about the flat being too small, have known that at some point the family would have to move. As far as I’m concerned, your solution is the best, until that day when maybe we all move back in together.
A glass of red. The simplest of things. Sitting with you (although you sat on the armchair and me on the sofa) and listening to you explaining the build. I’d have agreed to anything, Erin. Hearing your voice.
In the car on the way back, that’s what hit me. I just haven’t heard enough of your voice (forget the phone – I’m talking in real life) in such a long time.
Tonight, I wanted to explain, at least to try and explain that I’m finally realising what I did to you. It has taken months of listening to other people’s voices and stories, months of hearing what I did played back to me, months of being away from you, to help me realise I should have trusted you. I’m so sorry for not trusting you enough with my truth. I know now that if I had, things would have been very different.
So, we, a married couple, who don’t live together, are applying to extend our mortgage. You and the children will live there. You and the children will live with Lydia and Nigel for the six messy weeks it will take but afterwards it will look lovely and our (your) space problem will be fixed.
And all I want you to think about is that I, Dominic, Dom, helped sort it, have agreed to pay for it (which according to you will help you save some money every month) and I am an imperfect but essentially good bloke.
Any chance you might think of me differently? Anything I could do to make you see me like you used to? I’d climb a mountain, cross a deep blue sea.
Won’t even mention the fact that I sneaked a look in the bathroom cabinet when I went for a pee. You’re still taking those antidepressants – I’m sorry. I know you hate taking them.
And birth control, but we won’t mention that.
&nbs
p; Love you mightily. I love you because your face is the first thing I think of when I open my eyes every morning.
Dom xx
21st May 2006
To the fabulous Dominic!
Darling, darling Dom! (Not really. This is Dom writing this. I’m Dom. No, I’m Spartacus. No, I’m a little pissed because I’m Dom pretending to be Erin.)
‘There once was a man in a flat,
A flat just the size of a hat,
He so missed his wife and his previous life,’
And I have no idea what to write now.
Dom, you are one sad idiot who needs to seriously get a grip.
22. Erin
NOW – 11th June 2017
From The Book of Love:
‘I love you because we laugh together,
you and me.’
I’m washing my ancient Mini when he gets back, have just thrown a bucket of sudsy water over it.
‘I’ll never understand why you do that,’ Dom says. ‘Bring it down the road and let the garage do it for you.’
‘Therapy. It’s good for core breathing. “Wax on, wax off”.’ I smile.
‘The Karate Kid,’ he grins. ‘Brilliant movie. I was fifteen when Lydia and I went to see it.’
I move a huge sponge over the windscreen. ‘How was your dad?’
‘The same. Lydia was there actually.’
I fire him a warning glance.
‘What else have you been up to?’ he says, catching the look.
‘Reminiscing.’ I hold a damp palm against my forehead to shield the sun and watch him sit on the front step. ‘I was reading The Book of Love. I wrote in it. Hey, you want a laugh?’
‘Laughs are always good.’
‘You’ve written more than me in there.’
He makes a face. ‘See, I’m not so sure that’s even funny.’
‘It is,’ I nod. ‘It really is.’
‘Funny was when I turned up at Hawthorn Avenue drunk and tried singing “At Last” through the letterbox.’
I giggle, switch the hose on to rinse down the car. ‘That was funny. I never quite got the part where you thought it would win me over but, yeah, it was funny.’
‘Funny was when I messed with your car battery and just happened to be coming out of the same supermarket at the same time your car wouldn’t start. Me on my white steed …’
‘Nah, that was a freezing cold day. The kids were whining in the back and I saw right through that one.’
‘Funny was you dancing on the top box that Christmas we couldn’t get into it; or your attempting Riverdance with Rachel and Jude one birthday where you sang imaginary words to it. Or your dancing like a tree the night I met you.’
‘My dancing has given you much pleasure.’
He reaches for me as if to take my hand and waltz around the garden together, but I raise the hose, laughing.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘It would be funny.’ But before I can even aim for him, he’s scarpered and is on the other side of the living room window, making faces at me. Knowing he’s watching my every move, I rinse the car, and as the soapy water slides down the narrow driveway into the drain, I feel uplifted, excited – ready to talk about the future.
23. Dominic
THEN – June 2007
The sound of the front door opening and closing made him straighten up on the sofa.
‘All good?’ she asked throwing her keys in her oversized bag.
Dom yawned, as she came and sat on the arm of the chair. ‘Yep, what time is it?’
‘Just after ten.’
He patted his cheeks repeatedly. ‘I’ve had a long week. How was yoga?’
‘Great, I love it,’ she said as she placed her rolled-up mat against the wall and headed over to the other side of the room to put the kettle on. ‘A coffee before you go?’
‘Please.’ He crossed the new extension at the back of the flat. ‘Still can’t get used to this space,’ he said before taking a stool at the breakfast bar.
‘Just as well you don’t have to, isn’t it?’ She raised one eyebrow and he laughed.
‘How come such a long week?’ she asked.
Dom didn’t want to talk about how his brain hurt he was so busy. It might have come out as a complaint and all he felt was bloody lucky that since his father had retired, he had taken over most of his clients and his business was thriving. ‘Just long days and not enough sleep.’
‘Well, you need to get proper sleep. Maybe you should take up yoga? Honestly, it’s been a lifesaver for me. Breathing techniques for anxiety, breathing techniques to help me sleep.’
He looked at her spooning coffee into a mug for him and wondered if there was a breathing technique that could make him not love her. ‘No time,’ he said.
‘You still going to GA meetings?’ She had turned and asked the question, eyeballing him.
‘No,’ he couldn’t lie, felt her bristle from the other side of the room. ‘Erin, it wasn’t for me. I went for ages but in the end—’
‘In the end, what?’ She slid a coaster across the worktop and handed him a mug of black coffee.
‘In the end, I don’t believe in God.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s wrong for me to be there with a lot of very good people who all have similar struggles, but they really believe that God and prayer will help them change. I believe I’m the only one who can do that.’
Erin’s head was shaking. ‘So, what you’re saying is you can only stick to the “Twelve Steps according to Dom”.’
‘I suppose so, yes. I find the meetings, the sharing, really helpful. Believe it or not, I’ve done it often, but I just … I just recoil when it comes to the whole faith thing and it’s founded on having a faith. It’s not right that I doubt God’s existence when I’m there, especially when others believe so strongly that He’s responsible for their recovery.’ He looked over at her, leaning on the worktop, rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out for her to see. ‘You were the one who always believed in God and angels and heaven et cetera, but this is my faith.’ He tugged at something on his wrist. ‘It works for me.’
Erin came around his side of the island, looked closer at the silver rectangular tag attached to a leather band. ‘What does it say?’ She peered at it. ‘I don’t have my glasses.’ She sat next to him, reached across for her own cup of herbal tea. ‘Is it “AAH …?”’
‘It is.’ He laughed at the face she scrunched. ‘“A” for Admit. “A” for Atone and “H” for Hope.” Admit I was powerless to gamble in the past and admit I hurt myself and others doing so. Atone,’ he cleared his throat. ‘Make amends to those you’ve hurt, and Hope, well, hope for forgiveness as well as hope being something we all cling to, whatever’s going on.’
She was sipping her drink slowly, staring at him over the rim of her cup.
‘Say something,’ he said.
‘The steps according to Dom … Why am I not surprised?’
‘I was going to have it tattooed on the back of my wrist but decided on this dog tag idea. I’m happy with just the one tattoo.’
‘Those atonements,’ she said, ignoring the reference to ‘Erin forever’ on his wedding ring finger. ‘Are you done with them?’
Dom tugged on his open shirt collar. ‘I’m not sure I ever will be.’
‘You and your dad good?’
Dom nodded.
‘You and I are good. Finally,’ she said. ‘What about you and Maisie?’
He flinched. ‘I suppose she’s where the whole God thing gets a little confusing. I don’t believe in Him, yet I “pray” to her, talk to her in my head often. But we’re good, I think we’re good.’
‘You and Jude and Rachel?’
Dom thought for a moment. ‘Erin, all of this is an ongoing thing. That’s why I wear this – to constantly remind me. I’m not saying everything’s perfect. The kids really hate the fact that we’re not together. I’m forever trying to make that up to them.’
‘But we’re good, you and me.’ Her eyes
widened, and he realised it was her needing confirmation from him, and not the other way around.
‘We are.’ If I forget you’re seeing another man. If I forget we’re no longer lovers. If I tell myself it doesn’t matter that you don’t love me like you used to – there’s love there, that’s enough to build on. ‘I should get home. I’ve an early start tomorrow.’
‘You’re working Saturday?’
‘Just the morning.’
‘Well, be here by three, won’t you? Oh, and by the way, your parents have brought the same thing as us for their birthday, so I’ll tell the twins after they’ve opened their grandparents’ present what’s happened and that we’ll get them something else soon. I just don’t want to disappoint Gerard and Sophie.’
Dom frowned. ‘Right.’
‘Three o’clock, Dom. Don’t be late.’
‘I won’t.’ He kissed her cheek and headed towards the hallway.
‘Dom?’
He looked over his shoulder.
‘You left her …’
His stomach flipped.
‘Every time I tell myself how hard you’ve worked, and I’m an inch away from forgiving you,’ she held her hand up, thumb and forefinger poised in a circle almost meeting, ‘then I remember – you left her.’
‘I know.’
‘I was asleep, and she was alone.’
‘And I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.’
‘We have to live with that for the rest of our lives.’
He scratched above the dog tag. ‘And I’ll never forgive myself. For her, for losing you and the kids. I still love you, Erin.’
From the corner of his eye he watched her shake her head, lower her eyes to the floor, place her hands on her hips. ‘Dom, life is different now. We’re moving on, both of us.’ She looked up and as he eyeballed her, he felt the closeness of five minutes earlier disappear into the permanent chasm he’d put between them.
At three o’clock the next day, Isaac greeted him at the door. ‘Dominic, welcome,’ he said, and Dom smiled one of those broad smiles he normally reserved for prospective clients. He wanted to reach out and grab the man by his thick neck and squeeze really hard – but killing his wife’s lover at his children’s birthday party wasn’t a good idea.
The Book of Love Page 14
