‘Would you like a beer? I’ve got some in the fridge.’
Dom followed Isaac to the large American-style fridge that he had bought. The man who had briefly been Erin’s boss in the paramedic service, stood amiably by his side. Two men, sipping cheap beer. To anyone looking, it would seem like they were friends. Two friends, possibly both fathers of some of the attending children. None of Erin and Dom’s friends were there. He wondered if any of them had met Isaac – if they had – they were keeping quiet about it. He heard Rachel before he saw her, felt her run at him, as she always did, straight into his arms. And he held onto her, tried not to adjust his smile on seeing her into a smug expression for Isaac. One that would mean: You might be fucking my wife but this girl, she’s my daughter. ‘Happy birthday, Pipsqueak, where’s your brother,’ he asked.
‘He’s outside playing.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ He jerked his head back to Isaac. ‘Thanks for the beer.’
Tosser, he thought, knowing Isaac was staring at his back, possibly wondering confidently what Erin had ever seen in him. You don’t know, mate. You don’t know what we had, what we still have. He caught sight of her from the corner of his eye. She was deep in conversation with his mother which, in itself, was hilarious. Ten years ago, Sophie Carter had told her only son that he was marrying the wrong woman. Then years later, she had told him that he had upset the wrong woman and to do whatever he had to do to get her back. He waved at them both, mouthed that he was just going to find Jude.
He found him in the garden with his father. Jude was with a group of other children playing marbles. ‘Hi, Dad,’ his son said without even looking up or moving. His eyes were concentrating on a large glass ball with red stripes.
‘Hi, Jude,’ he laughed and hugged his own father. ‘Marbles?’
‘I found them at home,’ he said, ‘yours, I think. I sanded some down and re-polished them. And we got them one of those new-fangled Nintendo DS things each.’
‘Dad, you shouldn’t have spent so much money,’ Dom said, meaning it.
‘Leave me alone, Dominic, my man. They’re our only grandchildren and may always be our only grandchildren.’
He nodded, didn’t allow himself to be pulled into a discussion about Lydia and Nigel.
‘So, the marbles?’ he asked his father.
‘Found them in the loft. Thought they’d like them.’ He raised a finger in the air as if making a point. ‘I made sure to give them to them both but as you can see, somehow in the world of marbles, boys reign …’
‘You got a drink?’ Dom asked.
‘No, there’s kids’ fizz and squash. Where’d you find that?’ He pointed to the beer.
‘Oh, the man of the house gave it to me from the fridge I paid for.’ He couldn’t help himself.
‘Dom,’ his father’s quiet voice had a warning tinge to it.
‘I’ll go get you a beer,’ Dom said and went inside the kitchen where the noise levels seemed to have risen. He looked across the room to where Erin had been standing earlier with his mother. Sophie had been replaced with Isaac whose arm lay around Erin’s shoulder – casual but possessive. Dom wondered whether if he stared at the arm for long enough, he might have been granted a superpower – Superman’s laser eyes – that would mean Isaac’s severed arm would just fall on the floor. He shook his head. His children’s birthday party was definitely not the place.
‘Son.’ His mother greeted him with air kisses as only Sophie could. ‘Have you seen your father?’
‘He’s outside with Jude and some of the boys playing marbles. I’m just getting him a drink.’ Dom reached into the fridge and took a second beer. ‘Can I get you something, Mum?’
‘No, thank you, dear. I had a lovely cup of tea.’
He noticed his mother’s glance darting from one end of the room to the other, as if she was looking for someone, or something.
‘And a lovely slice of cake,’ she added, wringing her left hand with her right one.
‘Have you seen your father?’ she turned to him and faced him square on, her agitated eyes suddenly filling with unspilt tears.
‘Come with me, Mum.’ He looped one of her twisting hands through his arm.
‘No, I should wait here. Your nice lady, she’s waiting for me.’
Dom glanced at Erin, met her eyes and before he could form a thought, she had crossed the room and was standing beside them.
‘Sophie,’ she said, ‘there you are! I’ve been looking for you!’
‘There you are, dear. Dominic, look, it’s Erin.’
Dom patted Sophie’s hand. ‘Yes, Mum,’ he said. ‘Shall we go out to the garden and find Dad?’
‘No, no, dear. We used to own this place you know.’ His mother had wiped her own tears away with the edge of a twisted SpongeBob napkin she’d had in her hand.
‘Yes, you sold it to Dom and me.’ Erin looked at him and he felt their life, the life they’d lived together here in this flat, flash between them.
He blinked slowly. It was the small things that still got to him, like his wife calling him Dom lately rather than the Dominic she’d insisted on the last couple of years.
‘Who’s that man?’ Sophie asked, pointing across the room to Isaac. Dom pulled her hand back gently. It was confusing and painful for him to have to see Isaac in this place. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like for Sophie.
‘That’s my friend, Isaac,’ Erin said.
‘Yes, dear, but who is he?’ Sophie insisted, and Dom fought the urge to laugh. Who indeed, Mum.
‘You should introduce me, dear. He’s quite good-looking, isn’t he? Is he married?’
‘Come on, Sophie, I’ll introduce you.’
I’ve got her, Erin mouthed to him and Dom watched as she took over with his ailing mother. And in that moment, he was consumed with the woman Erin had become. She had already become the best person she could be, and she’d done it without him. She had already proved she could hold down a full-time job and be a mother too. And she was bloody good at both.
‘Dad, look what Granny and Grandad gave us!’ Rachel’s excited voice filled the room as she waved something at him. ‘It does this and look it’s got the pony game that I love.’ He felt his daughter huddle into him, stroked her hair. ‘Let me see? Oh, wow,’ he said, ‘show me how it works?’
Erin’s head poked around the bookshelves that divided the large room. ‘Isn’t she a lucky girl?’
‘She is,’ he looked up as she beckoned him to join her.
‘Just a minute love, show Grandad how it works and maybe we can play a game when I’m back.’
‘What’s up?’ he said to Erin, who gestured to him to follow her down the hallway to Rachel’s bedroom.
He scratched his ear, stood in the doorway as she turned to face him.
‘I just wondered if you had any idea what else to get them? I’ll take the Nintendos that we bought back on Monday, is that okay?’
‘Yes, fine, okay.’
‘You alright? You look pale.’
He swallowed hard. It was, despite the pretty wallpaper, despite the different carpet, the new sash window to replace the falling-apart-older one, it was still Maisie’s bedroom in his head.
Erin rubbed her neck, then hugged herself, as if she could suddenly read his mind and had decided she didn’t want to. ‘Right, well that was it,’ he heard her say.
As she went to pass him, he reached for her arm. ‘Erin?’
She stopped moving. ‘Huh?’
‘Yesterday, I told you that I still love you …’
Her arm moved from his grip as she turned to face him under the lintel and he could almost feel her breath on his face. ‘I just wanted to say—’
‘There you are!’ Isaac bounded down the hallway like a Labrador puppy. ‘People will be going soon. Should we do the cake?’
And it was that exact moment – the second that Isaac had used the word ‘we’ in a sentence about his wife and his children – that was t
he moment he formed a hard fist and hit him square in his perfectly dimpled chin.
20th June 2007
Darling Erin,
I’m sorry but I’m not sorry.
That man brings out my primitive side. I want to thump my chest and show him who the silverback around here is. Then, I want to beat the shit out of him.
Okay. Maybe not. I’m not a violent man; have never hit someone before this and the son-of-a-bitch made me spend a night in a cell after being charged with assault, so I’m not feeling remotely generous towards him right now. I wouldn’t really want to beat him, not properly. Maybe just injure him a little, rough his pretty face up a bit.
Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I’ll never touch him again, but I know what’s coming. You’re going to tell me I have to apologise and I’m not saying sorry to him when I’m not.
Not. Going. To. Happen. I loathe the man.
But as I was trying to tell you. I still love you, always will. And today I found some little foil triangles of Toblerone in my car. Tucked away in the glove compartment, melted to mush. I love you because once upon a time you put them there for me.
Dom xx
24. Dominic
THEN – July 2007
Dom was multi-tasking. With one hand, he cleaned the worktop in his narrow kitchen and with the other he swept the twelve square feet of linoleum with a half-bald brush. He’d already changed the linen on the bunks; Rachel had a new set bearing cuddly Care Bears while Jude’s was covered in dinosaurs just like those from the story of The Land Before Time. But something niggled him as he passed the room and he stopped walking. Erin hadn’t been happy the last time they’d been here, when he’d watched that video with them – Rachel had cried every night the following week because Littlefoot’s mummy had died.
Shit. He’d bought it for him ages ago, before the sleepless week and when he’d put it on just now he’d been on autopilot. He looked at his watch. They were late. Quickly, he pulled the duvet from the top bunk and stripped the cover from it, rooted in the airing cupboard for another, before putting it back on the bed uncovered. Everything was in the washing basket and Jude would kick it off him anyway in the tiny, sweaty room. Dom opened the window and looked at his watch again. Where was she? Where were they?
An hour later, she was waving her hands in a wordy apology. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, as he met her at the car where both children had fallen asleep. ‘I know this is eating into your time with them, but Fitz was playing with them in the garden for ages. He had a paddling pool filled and we left late and then the traffic … Sorry. Did you get my text?’
‘No, it’s okay.’ His phone pinged in his pocket. ‘That’ll probably be it. The signal in the flat is awful. Can you manage Rachel and I’ll take Jude?’
She nodded and together they carried their children from her car to his flat.
He lifted Jude onto the top bunk as she slid Rachel into the bottom.
‘We’ll have to leave them dressed?’ he whispered, standing to watch them for a moment.
She nodded, turned around, seemed to notice there was no door on the children’s bedroom.
‘Head in there,’ he pointed to the opposite side of the landing. ‘I know,’ he said looking back, before closing the living room door. ‘Their bedroom is a glorified cupboard.’
She wiped her hands on her jeans and looked around the space. ‘It’s weird I’ve not been in here before. It’s … nice,’ she said and he laughed.
‘It’s not weird and it’s not that nice either. I’ve never wanted you to see how small it is. It serves a purpose. I just sleep here.’
‘And work here.’ Her head moved towards a pile of architectural drawings on the small dining table. She walked towards it.
‘I was worried,’ Dom said, wringing his hands. ‘When I hadn’t heard from you … I was imagining all sorts of things.’
‘Well, we’re here,’ she said without looking at him.
‘I thought you’d wrapped the car around a tree,’ he said the words aloud that he’d thought he’d keep to himself.
‘I thought I was the anxious one of us,’ Erin replied, eyes still down on the papers on the table. ‘Dom catastrophising … not sure I like that idea.’ She picked up a set of estate agent’s details. ‘Valentine’s Way, gosh, I love those houses.’
‘I remember.’
‘A refurb for a client?’
‘Glass of wine? I have some open.’
She hesitated, looked at her watch and then said, ‘Okay, why not,’ before sitting on one side of the two-seater sofa, still reading the property details. ‘God, Dom, it’s gorgeous. Look at those windows. Are they original?’
Dom didn’t reply, not wanting to call out from the kitchenette and wake the children. He brought two glasses of wine in, shut the door, opened a window and took the seat beside her. ‘Cheers,’ he said clinking her glass.
‘Four bedrooms and two bathrooms,’ he said, going into agent-speak. ‘Yes, the windows are original, and it has so many authentic deco features including a small but stunning glass dome in the flat roof.’ Dom had been careful not to answer her question about a client. Lying to Erin Carter wasn’t something he ever planned on doing again. 44 Valentine’s Way, one of a row of ten thirties-built art deco style houses on a tree-lined street, two and a half miles from Kingston station – it had gone on the market last week and he’d just agreed to a second mortgage that made his eyes water.
‘Would you like to help me choose the kitchen and bathrooms?’ He could almost hear her mind working; watched her eyes narrow in thought, those dark green eyes flanked by thick, black, blinking lashes.
‘What about Cora?’ she asked after Dom’s PA who did everything from his typing to his colour schemes.
‘Maternity leave from next Friday. I’ve got a replacement for her, but for this, I don’t know, I think you might be better?’
Erin frowned, shifted a bit and sat back in the chair, seemed to mull it over.
As she did, Dom concentrated on the sounds outside his first-floor window. Though it was after nine, it was still bright outside. Some traffic. A late lawnmower. Birds in the oak’s branches just outside. Tree Girl.
‘Can I have a think about it?’ she said.
Tree Girl was sitting beside him.
‘Of course. Take your time.’ Dom was chewing a hangnail, watching her eyes roam his tiny home. ‘You could be involved as little or as much as you’d like to be. All I want is your good taste.’
‘You know you really shouldn’t have hit him,’ Erin changed the subject.
‘Yes, I really should,’ Dom’s reply was instant. ‘He’s a tosser.’ It was three weeks after the event, after his arrest for bodily harm which, only thanks to Erin, Isaac Chalmers wasn’t pursuing any further.
Erin sighed.
He sipped his wine. ‘I’m sorry I disappointed you. That said, I’m not sorry I thumped that idiot.’
She was playing with a tiny spot on her chin, rubbing her forefinger over it again and again. ‘Oh, Dom …’
‘You know you call me Dom again now.’ He grinned. ‘I knew I’d break you.’ He regretted the comment immediately as her back stiffened and straightened, her nostrils flaring a little. ‘Look,’ he tried to pull it back, anxious not to lose what had taken him months to build in a few foolish seconds. He rested his head on the back of the sofa, acutely aware of the nearness of her. ‘Do you remember once you asked me to talk to you as if I was writing in the Book of Love and you were never going to read it?’
Erin seemed to stare at the ceiling. ‘That was a whole lifetime ago.’
‘Maybe, but if you’ll listen, I’d really like to do that again.’
She didn’t flinch, which Dom took as permission.
‘I love you,’ he began.
She closed her eyes.
‘I’ve always loved you. I’ll die loving you and if that stuff you believe about angels is true, I’ll still love you even then. I particularly love this new “Zen” you.
’
A tiny flicker of a smile appeared on her lips.
‘I’m not going anywhere. I’m just here in the background watching you play with Isaac.’
Her eyes flashed open and narrowed.
‘I’m waiting for a chance, for the right time, whenever that might be, to tell you that I can’t love anyone else. If you don’t ever give me another chance I’m doomed to that life – loving you, wanting to be with you and having to watch you with someone else.’
‘Dom, you’re hardly a monk.’
Actually, he was, but he didn’t tell Erin that. ‘If I were that, not a monk I mean, it would only be sex.’ Dom could hear her breathing. ‘Not love. Tell me you love him, and I’ll stop talking. Or tell me you really don’t love me, you have no feelings for me whatsoever, and that you’ll never love me again, and I’ll stop talking …’
Her lips twitched before she spoke. ‘I have no feelings for you whatsoever and I’ll never love you again.’
For a second his heart splintered and then he smiled. ‘I don’t believe you.’
She laughed softly. ‘Not sure if that’s confident or arrogant.’
‘I’m laying my heart between us for you to stomp all over or pick up and hand it to me.’
He watched as her throat moved slowly with her swallow.
‘Dom,’ she shook her head. ‘Too much has happened.’
They both turned as the door creaked open.
‘I’ve got a tummy ache, Mummy.’ Rachel stood framed by the door and Dom raised his arms.
‘Come here, Pipsqueak.’ He circled them around his daughter and pulled her up onto his lap.
‘You really have a bad stomach?’ Erin asked Rachel, doubt obvious in her eyes. ‘Or did you just hear us talking?’
Dom tightened his grip, whispered in her ear. ‘Tell the truth.’
‘I just heard you,’ she said.
‘Bed, come on,’ her mother replied. ‘Daddy’s taking you to ballet in the morning.’
‘Are you staying here, Mummy?’ Rachel asked. ‘On the sofa,’ she added quickly, and a little piece of Dom died inside.
‘No love, no one can sleep on this sofa! See, it’s too small, even for Mummy,’ he told her neck.
The Book of Love Page 15
