by Marian Keyes
‘You were that worried?’
‘Weren’t you?’
‘Why wasn’t it a joint account?’
‘… Because I didn’t want you to know about it. Unless … until it was necessary.’
‘Why? Because I’d have spent it?’
‘… Well. Maybe. Yes.’
Last night she’d been certain it was his running-away money. This morning she believed this version of events, but it still made no difference.
‘I want you to leave. The house, I mean. I want you to live somewhere else. Not with me.’
No one else would understand why this was such a big deal. They’d think that Johnny had wanted to reconnect with an old friend, at a time of crisis, and there was nothing wrong with that.
‘Jessie, I swear to God –’ He was white with panic.
‘There is nothing you can tell me that will make this okay.’
‘What about … but what about the kids?’
‘I didn’t create this mess and sometimes with kids all you can do is feed them and keep them safe from physical harm. You leaving isn’t ideal –’
‘You mean, you kicking me out isn’t id–’
‘You meeting Izzy Kinsella on the sly isn’t ideal. You pretending you like cats isn’t ideal. But it’s happened.’
‘Please, Jessie.’
‘Michael was going to be okay. I don’t understand why you wanted to see her.’
‘It was that thing of, you know, you get a big scare, then a big relief. I just got carried away.’
‘No. You wanted me and you wanted the Kinsellas and you thought you could have both.’
Cara was awake. The house was noiseless. No sounds of kids playing came from outdoors.
Her phone said it was twenty past nine.
It was surprising how calm she felt. She’d always thought that if Ed left her she’d literally be tearing her garments with grief. But right now her soul was silent. Perhaps because it was still merely theoretical. But in six weeks’ or four months’ or two years’ time, it would be agony.
All of these thoughts rolled around, like smooth pebbles between her fingers.
She found him in Vinnie’s room. ‘Honey,’ she whispered.
He turned towards her and his eyes filled with tears.
Pulling back Vinnie’s duvet, she got in, pushing herself into his warmth. She had never loved him more and her calm acceptance began to shatter.
‘It’s the best thing I can do for you.’ He pulled her tight against him. ‘I can’t be your warden. Only you can do this for yourself.’
‘Honey, I didn’t actually do the bingeing and –’
‘You would have if Nell and Ferdia hadn’t been there.’
‘… I could have changed my mind at the last minute?’
He shook his head.
He was probably right. ‘Ed, I’m sorry … So much. For all the damage …’
‘You couldn’t help it. You’re an addict. You weren’t able to accept help.’
‘Maybe I will now.’
‘The kids,’ he said. ‘Can we try and keep things as normal as possible?’
‘Of course. What will we tell them?’
‘The truth. Although that might be a hard one for them: you’re sick, so in order to help you, I’m leaving.’ A fresh spasm of weeping shook him.
‘We can’t tell them a lie, like we’ve drifted apart. Can we tell them the facts? They might get it.’ She took a breath. ‘Ed, is this really happening?’
‘Don’t.’ His voice was thick. ‘It’s all so sad. When should we tell them?’
‘Now? We could bring them home and tell them now.’
‘Okay. And then I’ll have to go.’
Nell steeled herself to ring Jessie. There was every chance she wouldn’t answer – but she did.
‘Jessie.’ Nell raced through the words in case Jessie hung up. ‘I’m very sorry about me and Ferdia. Nothing much happened, if that’s of any help. You’ve been so kind, taken me into your family, and I’ve embarrassed you, caused mayhem and I’m just, like, really sorry for all the crap.’
‘I didn’t see it coming.’ Jessie sounded nothing like her usual dynamic self. ‘I don’t know what to feel. So much happened last night, and this is only one thing I’m trying to … Look, you’re both adults, you can do what you like. But he’s my son, you’re my sister-in-law. Although I’m guessing not for much longer?’
‘… I don’t think so.’
‘We were all mad about you,’ Jessie said. ‘Everything’s gone to shit and it’s … I’m finding it very hard. I have to go. Take care, good luck.’
‘Thank you. You too.’ Nell hung up. That had been brutal. But it could have been much, much worse.
Moments later, a text came from Liam: Lawyer up, bitch
She was shook. But he was just posturing. She hadn’t a penny, neither had he: there was nothing to tussle over. She sat and waited for her insides to stop shaking.
‘Liam says I can stay with him.’ Johnny was hoping that now, surely now, Jessie would change her mind.
‘’Kay.’ She carried on emptying the dishwasher.
‘And when would you like me to leave?’
‘Now.’
‘Right now?’ Two fifteen on a Saturday afternoon?
‘Yes.’ She suddenly became irritable. ‘Right now. When the fuck else? Next effing spring? Go!’
He deliberately packed almost nothing, so that he had plenty of reasons to keep returning home, then drove to Liam’s.
‘How are you?’ he asked Liam.
Liam shrugged.
‘You and Nell …?’
Extravagantly, Liam rolled his eyes.
‘It’s over?’ Johnny asked.
‘Of fucking course it’s fucking over! I wouldn’t touch that tramp ever again!’
‘And you and Robyn?’
Liam smirked. ‘Me and Robyn.’
‘… You don’t think she’s a bit young for you?’
‘If you want to stay here, you’d better keep those thoughts to yourself.’
‘Okay. Which room can I have?’
‘Either of them.’
Johnny looked in at Violet’s bedroom. Very pink. Then Lenore’s. Even more pink. ‘I’ll take Violet’s,’ he called to Liam. ‘Just unpacking my stuff.’
‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ Liam replied. ‘This is only very temporary.’
Moving a family of velvet pigs out of the way, Johnny put his various chargers on the bevelled little dressing table. He was still in a state of shock. It was barely more than twenty-four hours since he’d buzzed Izzy Kinsella into his apartment building and his life had collapsed.
At the time, his hopes were once again being slowly, painfully hoisted but he was no longer entirely convinced that persisting with Izzy would be worth it. He couldn’t get past the fact that none of them, not even Izzy, had bothered telling him when Michael had gone into hospital. That said, it was an urgent, stressful time for them. And Izzy had rung as soon as the news was promising.
But Ellen hadn’t called. Michael, on his sickbed, obviously hadn’t summoned Keeva and whispered a hoarse I want to see Johnny.
He’d kept bumping against painful pockets of probability: I don’t matter to them and I thought I did.
Yesterday, Izzy had come bounding up the stairs, her curls hopping. She’d brushed past him into the living room, rattling a steel beaker onto the low table, thrown her coat onto the arm of the couch and flung herself into the tub armchair.
‘Fancy chair.’ She twinkled with mockery.
‘That’s me,’ he replied. ‘Coffee?’
‘Got my own.’ She nodded at the beaker. ‘Happy birthday. So? How are you?’
‘Jesus, you know yourself. Thanks for last night’s call.’
‘Yeah.’ She exhaled long and hard. ‘It’s been the longest few days. I can’t believe it’s only Friday. Do I look horrific?’
‘You look exactly the same.’
‘“Exac
tly the same”?’ She sounded offended. ‘The Johnny Casey I know can do better than that.’
‘You look lovely.’ He shifted in his chair.
He needed to stop this chit-chat. He’d endured four months of playing out a line without moving anything on. It was time to do some straight-out, bald-y asking. ‘So Michael’s definitely getting better?’
‘He won’t be running a marathon anytime soon, but … I thought he was a goner. When they said he’d be okay,’ her face lit up, ‘the relief was like, ha-ha, being on drugs.’
‘That’s how I felt when you rang.’
‘You were one of the first people I thought of. I guess something this serious shows you what’s important.’ In a quieter voice she said, ‘I’ve missed you.’
Here we go. ‘Me too.’ He was energetically cheery. ‘I’ve missed you all. That’s why … As you said, a shock like this puts things into perspective, so, Izzy, is there any chance we could move on from the past?’
‘Could who move on?’
‘Could all of you – you and Keeva, your mum and dad – forgive me and Jessie?’
Izzy’s gaze roamed over his face. Her mouth opened, as if to speak but she closed it again. Then. ‘We could be friends, Johnny. You and me.’
Oh, shite.
Well, his instincts had already been telling him this was a bust.
But had he played her? Had she played him? Were they both to blame?
His heart heavy, he said, ‘You know that Jessie and I have always thought the world of you.’
Her face froze. After a long moment of silence, she said, ‘Honest to God, Johnny Casey, you giant chancer.’
He sat, sheepish and mortified. Putting her through this was downright shabby.
‘I think we’re done here.’ Sweeping up her coat and coffee flask, she made her way to the hall and slipped through the doorway.
As she turned towards the stairs and disappeared from view, her knowing smile, that familiar despairing shake of the head, might have been genuine.
Leaning against the shut door, self-loathing, like sour milk, washed in his stomach.
Neither of them had got what they wanted.
This was over. Done. Finished.
‘You left her?’ Johnny yelped.
‘You left her?’ Liam demanded. ‘Ed, what the fuck is wrong with you?’
‘For once, Ed, could you just not … not …’ Johnny sought the words ‘… not be weird?’
‘Can you stop shouting at me? Just for a while?’ Ed said. ‘Which is my room?’
‘Seriously,’ Liam said, ‘don’t get too comfortable here. Either of you.’
‘Thanks a fucking bunch,’ Johnny said. ‘Thanks, bro.’
‘Paige might kick me out.’
‘Right. That’s … Yeah, that wouldn’t be great.’
‘Have you really left Cara? Have you told your kids?’
Ed could hardly bear to think about it. ‘Yes.’ It had been even worse than he’d expected.
Vinnie had cried. His little hardman of a son, crying because his daddy was leaving.
Tom had asked anxious, suspicious questions: ‘What sort of sick are you, Mum? Are you going to die?’ And ‘Dad, you’re supposed to mind her if she’s sick.’
‘I have to get strong by myself,’ Cara said.
‘But it’s only for a while?’ Tom insisted. ‘You’ll come back when she’s better? Mum, you will get better.’
Who knew whether she would or not?
‘You’ve really done that to your kids?’ Liam asked.
Kettle, pot. But whatever. This was better than Cara having another seizure. At least this way both of their parents were alive.
Monday
‘God almighty,’ Petey said to Nell, ‘you’re jet-propelled today. Splitting up from your husband obviously suits you.’ Then, ‘Did I upset you there? I was only –’
‘Stop. I’m fine. Give me something else to paint.’
There had been no contact from Ferdia. This was good, great even: it had cut out a lot of emotional noise, clearing her thinking.
She got it now: her fixation on Ferdia had happened because her subconscious was trying to distract her from what an arse Liam was. Things made sense and she liked that.
Jessie filled the kettle, tears streaming down her face. Cat gifs! Cats. They were dog people, a dog family!
Rummaging around, trying to find spaghetti for the kids’ dinner, she heard the front door open. Johnny appeared and she called down the hall, ‘You don’t live here any more.’
‘Just picking up some clothes for Berlin. Going tomorrow.’
Good. It had been strange and awful sitting opposite him in the office today. ‘How long for?’
He came into the kitchen. ‘I’ll be back Thursday evening.’
‘You need to get another job,’ she said. ‘We can’t work together. You’re great at your chatty charming-Johnny thing. You’ll get something.’
Money, that was a problem, she acknowledged. It had been a problem before and it was a bigger problem now. But she would wait until Karl Brennan delivered his report. He might suggest something helpful.
It was ironic – or was that what irony meant? She’d always been afraid to assume, since poor Alanis Morissette had been so humiliated all those years ago – that she’d consulted Karl Brennan to placate Johnny, but now he might provide the financial solution to facilitate their split.
‘You knew she hated me. You should never have met her.’
‘I didn’t know anything. I was afraid to ask too soon. When I did ask, I made it clear that you and me came as a job lot.’
‘She didn’t want me.’
Anguished, he said, ‘I’m sorry you had to find that out.’
‘She only wanted you. And not as a friend.’
‘I should never have – I hate myself …’
‘Try being me. I feel unloved, friendless, left out, abandoned, humiliated and stupid.’
Tuesday
‘If you’ve lost nothing,’ Peggy said, ‘why would you change?’
Cara nodded in agreement.
Ed had had no choice.
But it was so, so sad.
Her thoughts were way more evolved than her feelings. In theory she agreed with Ed but emotionally she was an ocean of tears: she could cry for ever.
And yet things could be worse: the logistics of their separation weren’t as devastating as they might be for other couples. As things stood, for three months of the year Ed was away during the week. She and the kids were used to it. They coped.
Then there were Dorothy and Angus. They were mad about Vinnie and Tom and always available for baby-sitting, doctor’s visits, any emergencies.
Ed needed a place to live: finding the money for that would be a challenge. But Ed didn’t need material comforts – he’d happily sleep in a cupboard.
‘I’ve broken his heart,’ she told Peggy. ‘I’ve broken mine. If I do everything you tell me to do, how long before I’m better?’
Peggy laughed.
‘Piece of string?’ Cara asked.
‘Yep. Aaaand don’t do this for Ed. Don’t do it to fix your marriage –’
‘Do you think it’s fixable?’
‘It’s not for me to say. What I’m saying is, you have to park all of that. If you want to get better, then do it for you, Cara.’
In a way she felt that she had already lost too much to bother with any of this …
‘You get one precious life,’ Peggy said. ‘Why not try and have a contented one?’
… but she had her sons. And she had herself.
They were good reasons to try.
Wednesday
‘Nell! Watch out! The jayzis architrave!’
Dumbly she looked. The yellow eggshell she’d been rolling onto the walls had dribbled onto the white gloss woodwork. She hadn’t even noticed. ‘Sorry, Dad.’
‘You’re a liability today. What’s up with you?’
What was up was that her giant
fucking crush on Ferdia had come back, like a cold-sore she’d thought was healed.
At Johnny’s birthday, her utter mortification had efficiently corralled her feelings: it was crystal clear how terrible her flirtation with Ferdia had been. That conviction had lasted all over the weekend and into Monday.
But yesterday it hadn’t seemed so terrible.
And this morning, it didn’t seem terrible at all. Small matter of an age difference and, yeah, they’d met in a way that wasn’t strictly out of the meet-cute playbook. But so fucking what?
Thursday
Into the ether Nell sent an experimental, Hey.
The aftermath of adrenalin and fear made her pull Molly Ringwald hard against her chest.
‘Are we watching this movie?’ Garr asked.
‘Yep. Let’s go.’
Molly squirmed away, leaving a layer of ginger hairs on Nell’s shirt. The poor cat was shedding fur by the handful, probably due to stress. If they didn’t get settled soon, she’d be completely bald.
Which was looking increasingly likely. Nell had been viewing places every evening after work: for a thousand different reasons they were all unsuitable, sometimes disastrously so. ‘Hold on two seconds.’ She went to the cupboard under the stairs for the Hoover. She scooted around Garr’s room, vacuuming up Molly’s latest fur deposit.
‘Okay. Done. Hit play.’ She took a sneaky side-glance at her phone. Nothing.
The movie had won an Oscar for best cinematography, but she kept giving her phone sneaky peeps. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing – then a curt Hey
Happiness flooded her and it must have been obvious because Garr gave her a look. ‘The young lad?’
‘Garr?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Could we not call him “the young lad”?’
Garr looked surprised. ‘Uh. Sure. Grand. Whatever.’
‘His name is Ferdia.’ She clicked out: You good?
After another long wait, he replied: What can I do for you?
