by Shari Low
Taking short steps in her forties style, mauve pencil dress, she hurried out of the function suite, pressing the green button on her phone to accept the call as soon as she found a spot quiet enough to have a conversation.
‘Hello, sweetheart, how are—’
She stopped, confused. There was a sound on the other end of the phone, but it was indecipherable, a howling noise that took her a few moments to recognise as her daughter sobbing her heart out.
‘Annabelle! Annabelle, what’s wrong, darling? Are you okay? Annabelle, take a deep breath and try to speak. Oh God, are you hurt? Are you in danger? Annabelle, please…’
A cold terror was making her whole body tremble and her knuckles turn white. This wasn’t her daughter. She loved her child, but there was no getting away from the reality that Annabelle’s fall back behaviour was bold, demanding, stroppy and disdainful of everything around her. Marina had enough self-awareness to accept that particular apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
But that stroppy teenager wasn’t the person on the other end of the line now. This girl was distraught, hysterical.
‘Annabelle!’ Sharp this time, harsh even, but she was all out of other options and fear had that effect on her.
A pause in the sobbing, just long enough for Marina to say again, ‘Tell me, darling. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it. Tell me what’s wrong.’
‘I… I… I…’
‘You what?’
‘I… hate it here, Mum. I hate it.’
Marina was dumbstruck. Surely she didn’t mean… ‘Darling, what do you hate? The dance academy?’
‘Y… y… y… yes.’
‘But why? I thought you loved it there?’
‘I… I… I…’
Marina waited, saying nothing. This didn’t make sense. It was Annabelle’s dream. She didn’t even complain when, like this weekend, she had to stay extra nights because she had competitions.
‘I… I’ve always hated it. I just said that I loved it, but I don’t. Mum, I just want to come home. Please let me. Please.’
Marina had been through milder versions of this before when the kids had wanted to give up piano, or tennis, or violin, and each time she’d refused to let them. This was different though. This was desperation, bitter unhappiness, bottled-up feelings boiling over. This was misery.
‘Annabelle, stop. Please, darling, calm down. Tell me why. Help me understand.’
For the next fifteen minutes she listened as her daughter told her everything, how she’d realised a while ago that dance wasn’t her passion, how she was crumbling with the insecurity that was endemic at the academy, how she hated the classes and the rivalry and jealousies, how she just wanted to have a normal life, with free time and friends.
Marina listened, a sinking feeling of realisation growing with every passing minute. She knew she had to ask the question, but she also feared she already knew the answer.
‘But, Annabelle, why have you stayed this long?
‘Because it made you happy.’
Crash. Every building block of her maternal existence crumbled to the ground. And as it did, a series of pictures of Annabelle, looking sad at the sidelines when she was waiting to go on stage, of blinking back tears when her teacher was screaming instructions, flashed through her mind. And more. Oscar, his little face frowning as he tried desperately to master a new concerto on his clarinet, or putting his head in his hands when he failed for the fifth time to understand a maths problem and Marina made him try again.
What the hell was she doing?
‘Darling, listen to me. Pack your bag. Just bring with you whatever you need. Come home, and we’ll talk—’
‘Don’t try to make me go back, Mum!’ Annabelle begged, obviously thinking that Marina was just trying to bring her home for a breather so she could fix her up and send her packing again. Dear God, what had she done to her children? She only wanted them to have the best life and somehow this was where they were. How could that be?
‘I won’t, Bella,’ she promised, using the nickname they’d had until Annabelle turned ten and insisted on being called by her full name. Again, apple, tree.
‘You can stay at home for as long as you want, I promise. It will be completely up to you. Let’s just figure out how to get you back here tonight.’ She’d already had a couple of glasses of champagne so she couldn’t drive. She racked her brain, trying to work out the logistics, and realised there was one obvious answer. It would be expensive, but sod it.
‘I’ll send a taxi for you, darling, it will be there in an hour or so. Will that give you enough time?’
‘But what about Miss Branston?’ There was a tremor in her voice as she said it.
Marina closed her eyes. ‘Don’t you worry about Miss Branston, I’ll take care of it.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’
Marina melted as she heard the relief and the genuine feeling in those two words. Thanks mum.
‘I love you, Bella. And, honey… I’ve got you. It’s all going to be fine.’ She meant every word.
‘I love you too, Mum. See you soon.’
‘Bye, darling. Call me on the way if you need to talk again. I’ll keep my phone by my side.’
Call disconnected, Marina switched in to hyper-organisation mode. She dialled the taxi firm Graham’s company used and asked them to send a vetted driver from Glasgow to Edinburgh to pick up her daughter, then she called Miss Branston and informed her that there had been a change of plan this weekend and she was bringing Annabelle home. She kept it curt and didn’t allow the teacher time to pry. She’d discuss it properly when the time was right. The two calls that were going to return her daughter to her took exactly four minutes. Marina really didn’t mess around.
‘What’s going on?’ Graham had left the wedding suite to come and check what was happening, still with his Drambuie in his hand, of course.
‘Annabelle is coming home. She’s unhappy and I’ve sent a car for her.’
To his credit, he was immediately concerned. ‘Is she okay?’
Marina nodded. ‘She’ll be fine. She’ll be home in a couple of hours, so I just want to make sure we’re back before her.’
She stood up, about to walk back into the function suite, when something stopped her. Her daughter had just been brave enough to make a change. Where was Marina’s courage?
‘Actually, Graham, can we talk? There are some things I need to tell you.’
He didn’t hide his surprise. ‘What, now?’
‘Now,’ she said. Again, to his credit, he went along with it and followed her. They found a table in the downstairs bar and she struggled with where to start, before blurting it out, ‘I think I need a break.’
A break. She’d been thinking it through since they landed back from Vegas and she knew it was the right thing to do. She wasn’t going to tell him about the hook-ups or how strong her hatred of her life had become, how she’d begun to resent that every moment of her day was lived for the people in her family, how she had nothing left. Nothing. Nothing of herself to give because she didn’t even know who she was any more.
She didn’t say any of that, because the truth was it was all her own fault. She’d surrendered her life. He’d never demanded it or said she couldn’t do something else. She’d chosen to live this way and she’d been sucked into some vortex of expectation, where she was so busy trying to make everyone and everything the best it could be, that she’d forgotten that the most important thing was to make sure everyone was happy.
Herself included.
And when she’d realised that happiness was a distant memory, her feelings had turned into resentment – of her life, her husband, and yes, her family too.
It was time for a change. The truth was, she’d always been too afraid to let their perfect little unit change because she didn’t want to wreck their family, didn’t want the kids to feel how she’d felt after her dad was gone, to have the responsibility of taking care of everyone. She’d spent her whole life in fear
that something else would go wrong and it had paralysed her, made her too afraid to make difficult changes in case her family fell apart.
It had taken her a while to realise that wouldn’t happen.
The kids’ lives wouldn’t be like hers, because, as Verity had said, Marina was nothing like her mother.
They would be fine. She’d make sure of it.
But she needed to do it on her own terms.
‘Six months,’ she told Graham eventually, surprising herself when she realised that tears were running down her face. ‘Then we can see how we feel. I know it’s a shock and I’m sorry, but I need to find the life I want first before I know if it can be with you.’
She wasn’t giving him false hope, but she wasn’t ruling out a reconciliation either. She’d loved him once. Maybe, after a bit of time and space, and rebuilding her life again on her own terms, she would discover she still did.
Now that she’d told him what she wanted, she braced herself for objections. They didn’t come. She waited for him to say something, anything, but he sat there, staring into space. She was about to give up on him, when he finally spoke.
‘The other day, I caught myself wondering what the hell I was doing all this for,’ he said, still staring into a void in front of him.
‘I know that work has taken over my life. I’m not sure how we got here, but it’s where we are and I think I have to work out what I want too.’
Now she was the one shocked into silence. He was unhappy too? How could she not have known that?
He leaned over and put his hand on hers and looked at her in a way that he hadn’t done since the kids were small and they were just two twenty-somethings starting off a family and a life together.
‘I miss the guy I used to be too. He loved you more than life, you know.’
Marina nodded sadly. ‘I know. The woman I used to be loved him too.’ It was true.
It was heartbreaking that the first real conversation they’d had in years was the one in which they were saying goodbye to their marriage and each other.
‘I want to leave the house. You can stay there.’ She hadn’t thought this through, but even as she was saying it, she knew it was what she wanted. What was the point of searching for change if you stayed in the same place? ‘The kids and I will move somewhere else, at least for a while.’
She knew he wouldn’t argue. Whether he decided to make changes to his life or not, the reality was that right now he worked fourteen hour days and knew nothing of the kids’ schedules or needs.
‘Okay. I can see them whenever I want?’
‘Of course,’ she told him, meaning it.
They felt silent again, both of them thinking it through, too stunned to be sure what they still needed to discuss. She had no idea how long they’d been sitting there, when Yvie and Verity appeared at their table.
‘Hey,’ Yvie said gently, ‘Are you two okay?’
Marina swiftly wiped away the tears from her face with the palm of one hand, still holding Graham’s with the other.
‘We will be,’ she said, hoping it was true. ‘Yvie, can I ask you something?’
‘Sure.’
It had just come into her mind, but as soon as it had, she knew it felt right.
‘I know we’re always leaning on you, and we promised we wouldn’t do that any more. But can the kids and I come and stay with you for a while?’
41
Ned – Tom’s Wedding
Why? Why did it have to be so fucking complicated? Life was too short for this shit.
The wedding was coming to an end now, the lights were up and the last few guests were drifting down to the residents’ bar after Tom had announced that it was being kept open for them. Ned Merton wasn’t ready for the party to end, especially not after the night he’d had. Who the fuck did that bitch Verity think she was, dishing out ultimatums to him?
He ordered another beer from the free bar, then raised the bottle in a silent cheers to the man who was at the other side of the room, saying goodbye to his wedding guests. May as well spend as much of Tom Butler’s money as possible. A tiny revenge, but it made him feel better.
See, Verity had it all wrong. It wasn’t him, Ned, who was the problem in the relationship with Zoe. It was Tom sodding Butler. Always there. Right there. Taking Zoe from him, even though he’d dumped her for someone else.
His eyes went to her now, standing across the room, chatting to a group of guests he didn’t know.
God, she was beautiful though. And smart. And everything a guy could ever want. He closed his eyes, his mind slipping into his memories. Right from that first moment he saw her in the staffroom, half pissed and desperate to party, he’d known he wanted her.
At first, he’d thought she was a pushover. They’d spent the night together and he’d thought it was a done deal. She was his for as long as he wanted her. But, no. She wasn’t like the others. She was the first one who’d toyed with him, brushed him off. So, yeah, he could admit that she’d become something else.
A challenge.
That’s how it had been ever since. She’d been there, in a relationship with him, married to him, but always just out of reach. He’d become obsessed with winning, with having her, making her his.
When the wedding opportunity came along in Vegas, he’d known it was his chance to win her, once and for all.
But nothing had changed. Since they’d abseiled off that building, she’d still been the same, still unavailable, too busy, relegating him to second place, third even. Tom Butler. And even that flash bastard, Roger Kemp. They both got more of her attention than he did.
And, as for him, so what if he’d had a bit of fun on a dating app? He wouldn’t have been pushed into doing that if the woman who would become his wife had paid him any attention, would he?
‘Hey, Mr Merton, how are you doing there?’
He hadn’t even seen Zoe sneaking up on him. Now, he watched as her eyes narrowed, the smile on her beautiful face a bit uncertain. Okay, so he’d had a few beers. More than a few. He deserved it.
‘I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?’
She shook her head. ‘No reason. You just seem a bit…’
‘Pissed?’ he spat, finishing it for her.
She laughed. She actually fucking laughed.
‘Yeah, well, I was going to go with “tired”, but okay. Sorry I haven’t seen much of you tonight, babe, it’s just been so busy with making sure it all went well and—’
‘I don’t care.’
Her smile dropped and he watched as her eyelids drooped for a second as if she was weary. What did she have to be weary about? He was the one who’d been treated like crap here.
‘Look, I’m not going to argue with you here. I’m sorry if you’re annoyed…’
Was she though? Nah, she wasn’t sorry. Not in the least. She was placating him, like he was some kind of clueless idiot.
‘I’m not. Like I said, I don’t care,’ he repeated.
‘Okay,’ she said simply. Calmly. ‘I’m going to go home now. I’m tired. Are you coming?’
She didn’t even care enough to fight, to complain, to call him out.
Well, fuck it, he didn’t need this any more. What was the point? Did he really want to wait around until she snapped her fingers and gave him the respect he deserved? Did he want to find out if she would believe Verity’s story or if he could win her over with some bullshit explanations? Did he want to keep trying to have someone who would always put her job first?
Nah. He was in charge of his own life and he’d already wasted too much of it on Zoe Danton. He was done. It was time to give up on the challenge. Her loss.
One day she’d realise she’d messed up, but it would be too late. Serve her right.
It was time to enjoy his life again. Starting right now.
‘No, I’m not coming. I’m going to stay here a while longer,’ he told her.
Stay. Fight. Argue. Beg me to change my mind.
She didn’t.
She turned and walked away.
That said everything he needed to know.
Forget Zoe Danton. He didn’t need her.
He could have anyone he wanted.
And tonight he knew who that would be. He’d had his eye on someone else all night, and she’d been on his radar for much longer.
For a man who thrived on a challenge, his next one was coming right up. It was only much, much later that he realised Zoe had walked away with her dignity intact and his credit cards in her handbag.
42
The Four Sisters – Present Day; Sunday, 2.15 p.m.
‘I’ll start with the credit card. I think you’ll find that was mine.’ Even as Yvie is saying it, my mind can’t compute what is going on. ‘But it’s not what it looks like. It wasn’t me. Not this time.’
‘What do you mean “this time”?’
‘We’re going to need another round of cocktails for this,’ Verity whistles and disappears into the kitchen, clearly aware of what is about to be said. Does everyone know what’s going on except me?
‘Ned,’ Yvie splutters. And then it comes out. The whole story. The night she’d gone out with my husband, then been devastated when he’d had sex with her friend. The story ends with a woeful sigh. ‘And I gave my credit card to Kay on the night of Tom’s wedding so she could stay at the hotel.’
‘So it was Kay who slept with Ned?’ I gasp, shocked.
Yvie immediately shakes her head. ‘I really don’t think so. I honestly don’t believe she did because she’d have told me, I’m sure of it. But since none of your cards were there that night, and mine definitely was, it must have paid for his room. I don’t understand any of this, but I’ll need to speak to her to find out more. I’m just so sorry that it’s happened to you. Don’t hate me for telling you all this. Please don’t hate me,’ she begs.
I fly out of my chair and throw myself on top of her, wrapping my arms around her. ‘Of course I don’t hate you, you daft bint. I bloody hate him for being an arrogant snake. Jesus, I can’t believe I never saw who he was. I honestly can’t believe it.’
