by Emma Davies
A cold slither of unease snakes its way down my back.
Sam raises a hand in the air, a placatory gesture, although his other hand, the one that clutches his stick, is white at the knuckle.
‘Well, fancy that,’ he says. ‘After all these years your message hasn’t changed one iota.’
I stare at him. What on earth does he mean?
‘Given the number of years that have gone by since we last met, I’d have hoped you could have come up with something a little more considered, more nuanced than just a bald threat. But it would seem not. Don’t worry though, Alys and I have said all that we need to, and the status quo remains. At least I think it does…’
There’s a mocking expression on his face that I don’t like the look of, but it changes to one of sympathy as he looks at me. ‘I’m so sorry, Alys, Nancy… I’ll go. I’ve no wish to make things awkward.’ He grimaces. ‘Any more awkward.’
Nancy is desperately trying to keep her composure but I can see how shocked she is and my anger flares in an instant. This isn’t Sam’s fault, the only one to blame here is Hugh.
‘No, you won’t Sam, you stay right where you are. It’s us that’s leaving. You stay here and enjoy your time with your family.’
I can count the times on one hand that I’ve argued with Hugh, but right now I could cheerfully kill him. I close the distance between us.
‘Don’t say another word,’ I hiss into his face, my eyes burning into his. I grab hold of his arm and pull him towards the back door. Hugh is considerably taller than me and infinitely more powerful – he could easily resist my action if he wanted to, so I know it’s only the shock of my behaviour that’s allowing me to manoeuvre him in this way. My handbag is still hanging on the back of the door where I left it for safekeeping and I snatch it up before yanking open the door and pushing Hugh out into the night. I have the advantage for now, but it won’t last long.
My hand is on my car keys. ‘Get in.’ It’s taking every ounce of willpower I possess to stand my ground and for one moment I think Hugh is going to fight back, maybe even hit me. He looms over me, his jaw working, brain trying to keep up with what’s happening, but for once in my life I’m not backing down. If looks could kill he’d be stone-cold dead by now, and he knows it.
He strides away from me in the last instant before my resolve cracks, leaving me shaking, standing in the car park wondering what on earth I’m going to do next. Or rather how I’m going to do it.
There is a stunned silence as I walk back inside the kitchen. Nancy is holding Sam’s arm, while he looks as if someone has kicked him repeatedly. His eyes are ablaze.
‘Oh, Nancy,’ I say. ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say. Hugh…’ But I trail off, I can’t finish the sentence. ‘I don’t know what on earth’s got into him, I should get him home, I…’ Tears are filling my eyes, and they spill over at a touch on my arm. ‘Your special day…’ And the tears fall faster.
She shakes her head. ‘Go,’ she says, softly. ‘I’ll take care of it. Everything will be all right.’
‘Esme…’
‘I know,’ she says soothingly. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.’ She’s shaking her head and I realise that she will make our excuses, smoothing things over to take care of her family, and that includes Esme. Her eyes reach mine extending trust and friendship, nothing more, and I kiss her goodbye, whispering my thanks.
I walk back out to the car, slamming the door after me as I climb into the driver’s seat. Hugh sits sullenly, the import of what he’s just done finally beginning to sink in. I turn and stare at him for a moment, the artificial light from the car park throwing dark shadows across his face, but he remains resolutely facing forward.
‘How could you?’ I say in disgust and then I drive us home in silence.
Once we’re there Hugh stalks into the kitchen and flicks on the kettle. It’s an automatic reaction as much as any desire to have a drink, although perhaps a coffee would be a good idea; it might sober him up a little bit.
There are so many thoughts crowding my head it’s becoming almost unbearable. Mostly they’re centred around Nancy and Sam and how awful they must be feeling. Nancy’s special night, the culmination of all her determination and hard work, ruined by Hugh’s insensitive behaviour. And everything had gone so well, the celebrations should be continuing long into the night, and yet all she’s been left with is a nasty taste in her mouth. It doesn’t even begin to cover how embarrassed she must be.
But of course Hugh’s behaviour wasn’t just insensitive, it was thoughtless at best, selfish, and born out of stupid jealousy. But that isn’t the worst of it. It was provocative too. His comment to Sam was peculiarly barbed and directed at a man he hasn’t seen in years, a man who, as far as I know, has never caused him any harm. In fact, quite the reverse. And I simply can’t work it out. Hugh is sometimes a little excitable when he’s had too much to drink, belligerent even, but not malicious.
I move past him, collecting two mugs from the cupboard. He’s loosened his tie and pulled his shirt out from his trousers, trying to look relaxed. But I know Hugh, and his attempt at appearing affable doesn’t mean a thing; he’ll still be determined to make his point and have things his own way. But that isn’t going to work tonight.
‘Are you going to tell me what that was all about?’ I ask, turning around.
‘I should have thought that was perfectly obvious,’ he says, deliberately mild. ‘Sam kissed you… or did you kiss him?’
‘And you really think that’s a good enough reason for totally ruining the evening, do you? Yes, I kissed Sam, but then I also kissed Theo and Nancy, and Esme… and you for that matter. It was the type of kiss you reserve for social occasions, Hugh, not a full-on snog, and I didn’t see you holding back with our lady mayoress. Or is that somehow different because it was you and not me?’
‘I don’t recall ever being married to the lady mayoress…’
I hold his look. ‘This is boring, Hugh. We’ve already had this conversation and I explained perfectly well what the situation is with Sam. I didn’t hide the fact that I’d met him again. You, on the other hand, haven’t seen him in over twenty years. You can see what he’s been through, and you also know that he owns a very successful restaurant. And yet, knowing all these things, without an ounce of compassion, or thought, or tact for that matter, the only thing you can manage to say to the man is stay away from my wife? For goodness’ sake, Hugh, have you any idea what you sounded like?’
‘Have you any idea what you looked like?’ His eyes flash with indignation.
‘And what’s that supposed to mean? Don’t you dare put this on me, when you’re the one in the wrong here.’
‘And yet there you are dressed up to the nines…’
I stare at him, anger growing with every second. ‘So that’s what this is really all about, is it? The fact that I’m wearing a dress you don’t like… At least I hope that’s all it is, because as pathetic as it may be, if it’s not that it would sound suspiciously like you’re accusing me of something here, maybe even of having an affair…? And that really would be ridiculous.’
Hugh doesn’t answer.
‘So then, back to the dress… Just what exactly is it you don’t like, Hugh? The fact that it cost a lot of money? Money I earned, I might add. Or the fact that I bought it without your consent, your knowledge even…?’ I’m watching the expression on his face. ‘Could it even be because, God forbid, I look nice?’
‘You look ridiculous. Like mutton dressed as lamb. Like one of those women who go out and buy expensive things just because they can, with more money than taste.’
‘No, Hugh. I don’t. Everyone else has told me how great I look. Everyone but you. I just don’t think you can stand it, can you? Knowing that other people might be looking at me with admiration.’
As soon as I say it, I realise I’ve walked right into his trap.
‘And which other people would that be, Alys? Sam? Is that who you were dressing up fo
r?’
I can hear the kitchen clock ticking, marking the beats of silence as I glare at him. But I’m not about to respond to his jibe; I’ve spent far too much of my life doing what Hugh wants. There’s a point to be made here, one that has been bothering me for quite some time and which I’m only just beginning to understand. And it has nothing to do with Sam, and everything to do with me.
‘You like to look good, Hugh, don’t you? You like to be seen wearing nice clothes – nice shoes, gold cufflinks, an expensive watch. I didn’t see you hiding any of that this evening as you hobnobbed with the mayoress and the chair of commerce and his cronies. So why is it that it’s okay for you to look the part, but the one time I thought I might like to be appreciated, as a woman in my own right and not just as your wife, you find fault with everything?’
He eyes me steadily. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’
‘Do I really need to, Hugh? I’ve already explained about my meeting with Sam and how it came about. I had no more idea who ran The Green Room than you when Esme got the job. I certainly didn’t imagine for one minute that it would mean seeing him again. But now that I have, I can’t just ignore it. What I can do, however, is accept that Sam belonged to a part of my life that has long since gone. And, as far as I’m concerned, that’s where it will stay. So, to answer your question, no, my dress was not for Sam’s benefit, or any other man’s for that matter. In fact, it wasn’t even for yours. I’ve had enough of passing all my decisions through your filter first, Hugh.’ I bang the mugs down onto the kitchen counter. ‘And you’d better get used to that fact.’
He pulls at the knot of his tie and slides it from his neck, his expression unreadable. ‘I really don’t know what’s got into you lately.’
‘No? Maybe it’s just that I’ve remembered I’m a person too. Instead of just a wife and mother. I’ve felt alive the last few days, actually alive, instead of sleepwalking through my life. Do you know how that makes me feel? Wondering what I could have achieved if I’d have set my mind to it. Wondering who I might be if I hadn’t allowed you to decide for me.’
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous, you’re obviously hormonal, Alys. I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation, and—’
‘Don’t you? Well, shall I tell you? You insulted me tonight, Hugh. Everything I am and everything I do. The sad thing is, though, that I don’t even care about that, because in trying to make your stupid point to Sam, not only did you make things incredibly awkward, but you were also extremely rude to Nancy, whose guest you were. You might as well have thrown her hospitality back in her face. But even that’s not the worst thing you did… Because can you imagine what might have happened if Esme had heard what you’d said, or if she finds out? Not only would you have utterly ruined the biggest night of her career, but you’d have made it impossible to keep my past relationship with Sam under wraps. Jesus, Hugh, you couldn’t have shone a bigger light on the situation if you’d tried. Did you even stop to think about that?’
And for the first time this evening he actually looks a little disconcerted.
‘Maybe it’s for the best if she knows…’
‘No, Hugh, it isn’t. How can it be? She’s waited so long for an opportunity like this despite everything you’ve done to stop her following the career she wanted and—’
‘I have never stopped her!’ he exclaims. ‘I’ve asked her to consider her future, and to think carefully about what she wants to do. But any parent would do that.’
‘Would they? Because I sometimes wonder whether you have another reason for not wanting Esme to be a chef, Hugh. One that has nothing to do with its suitability as a career.’
He stares at me. He knows exactly what I’m talking about, but he’s not going to say anything. He can’t, because he won’t want to admit that I’m right, or quite how precarious he’s made this situation.
‘But whatever your reasons,’ I add. ‘You had better start thinking about what you’re going to say to Nancy, because you have the biggest apology to make. And you’re on your own with this one. I am not bailing you out like I usually do, not this time.’
I cross the kitchen to the doorway. ‘And while you’re at it, don’t think I’ve forgotten the way Sam reacted to seeing you, or what he said, so you might like to have a think about explaining that to me too. Oh, and if you want a coffee, make it your bloody self, I’m going to bed.’
I stand in front of the bedroom mirror for quite some time after I leave Hugh, looking at my reflection. I’m still angry but my rage is birthing a new feeling too; something I haven’t felt in a long time. I’m not exactly sure what you’d call it – a resurgence of my inner confidence, pride almost, as if I’ve woken from a sleep, energy filling me with purpose. Because I’d felt good tonight. For once I’d liked how I looked. I smile to myself. What was it Sam said? More like my curly-haired self, and he’s right. It’s exactly how I used to feel, all the time. In fact, I never even had to question it.
I undress and then, padding through to the bathroom, I slowly take off my make-up, rubbing cream into my skin and relishing its cool silkiness. Hugh won’t appear for ages yet. He’s always been a night owl, but I’m expecting him to give me a wide berth tonight and I’m looking forward to having the bed to myself for a bit; the clear calm space is just what I need. I climb beneath the covers and lie flat on my back, arms folded loosely over my chest. Closing my eyes, I try to quieten my breathing and, once I feel my anxiety begin to loosen its grip, I let my thoughts drift.
Much to my surprise I realise I must have fallen asleep, as my eyes flick open, suddenly alert. The bed shifts a little beside me as Hugh stirs, but I don’t think it’s this that has disturbed me. His breathing is deep and even and he looks to have been that way for some time. A crack of light suddenly appears under the door and I realise then what’s woken me. Esme is home.
With a backward glance I slide from the bed and out the room, pulling the door gently closed behind me. Once Hugh is asleep it’s unlikely anything will wake him, but I’d rather that didn’t happen. I meet Esme on the landing. Her smile is tired but happy.
‘Hi,’ I say softly.
She’s already changed out of her chef’s whites and is wearing pyjama bottoms and a tee shirt, her long hair let down from its band, flowing over her shoulders. She looks very grown-up, as if suddenly wise beyond her years.
I open my arms and she slips inside, wiping away the passage of time. Neither of us speaks as I stroke her head. After a few moments she pulls away.
‘We did it, Mum,’ she says.
‘Yes, you did,’ I reply. ‘But you look tired now.’
‘I’m knackered,’ she replies, grinning and catching hold of my hand. ‘Come downstairs,’ she whispers.
The kitchen is dim as we enter, lit only by the lights along the skirting, and I’m shocked to see from the glowing clock on the cooker that it’s nearly one in the morning. Esme is already at the cupboard, pulling out the packet of chocolate biscuits that are her go-to when she needs a boost. She offers me one first.
‘This is a bit of a let-down,’ I say. ‘After the meal we’ve just had. Did I tell you how amazing you were?’
She bites into her biscuit, tucking her hair behind the ears. Her face looks ghostly in the half-light and she’s obviously exhausted.
‘That’s what Nancy said,’ she replies. ‘You two are so alike at times.’
‘Me and Nancy? Well, I shall take that as a compliment,’ I add. ‘But I don’t think so. Nancy is vivacious and outgoing, successful, determined…’ I trail off. ‘Oh dear, I’m not doing myself any favours here.’
‘I think you have all those traits, actually, you just don’t wear them on your sleeve like Nancy does. But you are alike in many ways… wise, caring, and she always acts as the go-between as well. The buffer between Theo and Sam just like you do with Dad. What was wrong with him tonight, did he have too much to drink?’ she asks.
‘Something like that,’ I say. ‘I don’t
think he noticed until we were on our feet again. I thought it wise to get him home but I hope our running off didn’t spoil the end of the evening for you.’
A dreamy expression comes over her face. ‘No… not even Dad could do that. It was so good, Mum. I’ve never felt anything like it.’
‘Then I’m glad.’
She pops the last of her biscuit in her mouth. ‘Okay,’ she says, coming forward to give me another hug. ‘I’m going to bed now, Mum, I’m wiped out.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ I reply. ‘You’ve cooked your little heart out today. I’m so proud of you.’
‘I’m proud of you too, Mum,’ she says. ‘And you did look amazing tonight.’
I just hope that she will go on being proud of me. ‘You go up, love,’ I say, smiling. ‘I’m just going to get myself a drink.’
She hands me the packet of biscuits. ‘Night, Mum.’
I watch her leave, listening for her footsteps on the stairs as I collect a glass from the cupboard. I fill it with water and hold it against my cheek for a moment. I don’t really want a drink but it gives me an excuse to wait downstairs for a few minutes. A thought had come to me earlier when I’d been talking to Hugh about my dress. Something about the expression on his face hadn’t seemed quite right. I set the glass back down on the side and open the cupboard under the stairs where I keep the bag I used for work. It’s sat there ever since I left Harringtons and inside it is the letter I received from the HR department informing me about my redundancy. There’s a detail I want to check.
16
Despite my lack of sleep, I’m wide awake again at six the next morning. It’s Hugh’s weekend to work so he’ll be getting up soon, but I’m really not in the mood for conversation this early, and especially not with Hugh. So I snuggle back into my pillows as best I can and pretend. I don’t suppose Hugh is particularly looking forward to having to apologise to Esme for leaving so early last night; predictably, he makes no attempt to wake me, and leaves even earlier than usual.
