by Emma Davies
19
I can hear Esme crying through her bedroom door, the sound of her tears like a physical pain. She knows I wouldn’t normally enter without her permission, but she also knows that today I’ll override that rule in a heartbeat and so she’s slumped on the floor in front of the door just like she used to do when she was a teenager, and my plaintive entreaties to open it go unanswered. The chunk of wood between us may as well be forty-foot high and fifty-foot wide. I can’t get to her and it’s breaking my heart.
‘Esme, please. Just let me talk to you. I know on the face of it this sounds awful, but it isn’t, not really. Esme…?’
But there’s no reply. However much I try, whatever I say. She’s just like her dad in that regard, so stubborn. I sag against the door. What am I thinking? She’s like Hugh, she’s not like her dad at all… Or maybe she is, I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more.
I slide downwards until I’m sitting on the floor too, my back up against the door. Perhaps I should be grateful that Hugh didn’t spill the whole can of beans, but the little voice in my head is telling me that’s only because he can’t deal with her knowing he’s not her real father and it’s probably right. But where do I go from here? And when did all this become solely my responsibility? Shouldn’t Hugh be by my side, and I his? Shouldn’t we be facing these challenges together? Talking to Esme and supporting her as a couple, helping her to understand that whatever may have happened in the past it doesn’t have to change her future.
Hugh has been Esme’s father in every sense of the word from the minute she was born and no one, least of all me, would ever suggest that change. Even though I can see that having Sam as an extra dad could be a good thing for Esme, she could learn so much from it, I’d never suggest it. But I also know that discussing things rationally, both of us, as Esme’s parents, is never going to happen. It’s gone too far for that. I close my eyes. In an ideal world perhaps but not in my world, because my relationship with Esme is one thing, but where does this leave my relationship with Hugh? When he has kept so much hidden from me over the years and yet accuses me of having an affair. When he has set himself up as the victim instead and pointed the finger of blame at me. And I think I know the answer.
Esme is quiet now but still I sit here. My sadness has rooted me to the spot, silent tears tracking down my cheeks. I never wanted any of this to happen. I just wanted to be me. To feel alive again, to wake up the life that felt as if it was sleeping. Is that so very wrong? And maybe Sam was the catalyst for all this, but I can’t magic him back into the bottle like the genie he seems to be. He’s here and no amount of straightening my hair and carrying on like I did before is ever going to change that.
The door gives slightly behind me and I know that Esme has got up from the floor. I brace myself for its opening because she knows I’m here – she’ll have felt it too – and, sure enough, her cracked voice whispers from behind me.
‘Mum…?’
I get to my feet and then we’re standing there, looking at one another across the threshold of the door. Her face is stained with tears and she looks more vulnerable than I ever remember seeing her before, but it gives me hope. It’s only by being vulnerable that we reach out. I hold out my arms and she slips wordlessly inside, her head against my chest. My hair tangles with hers as I lean forward. My Esme. My girl.
Eventually she pulls away, looking up at me with eyes that are surprisingly full of empathy. Or maybe it’s not such a surprise. In that regard she is just like her father.
‘Will you tell me?’ she asks.
I nod. ‘Now?’
But she shakes her head. ‘No, tomorrow. I’m too tired, Mum. I won’t be able to take it all in.’
I lay a hand across her cheek, my thumb gently caressing the top of her cheekbone. ‘And I promise you there’s nothing to worry about,’ I say. ‘Everything is going to be okay.’
What else can I tell her?
Hugh is still downstairs when I return, sitting at the kitchen table nursing his cup of tea. His head hangs low over his mug and, despite my earlier anger, I hate to see him like this. I’m very aware of how much is at stake for him. I sit down quietly on the seat opposite him.
‘And I suppose you want to talk some more, do you? I can see you’re having trouble containing yourself.’
I hadn’t expected anything less. Hugh’s default stance is always defensive. I hold his challenging look for a moment. ‘I’d rather we weren’t in a position where we were having to “talk” at all,’ I say, mildly. ‘But as it happens I do think a discussion about this evening would be useful, as well as one or two other things.’
He scowls. ‘What one or two other things? What else am I supposed to have done?’
But I bite my tongue. One thing at a time.
‘Would you like another cup of tea first?’ I ask. ‘I’m going to make myself one.’
‘Might as well,’ he replies sullenly, pushing his mug towards me.
‘Come on then,’ he says, as soon as I’ve placed his mug down beside him. ‘Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.’
His attitude is infuriating. ‘You first,’ I say. ‘I’d love to know on what level you think it’s okay to firstly accuse me of having an affair, and secondly to blurt out to Esme that Sam and I were married. Although I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t go the whole hog and…’ I lower my voice, very aware that Esme is in the house. ‘Do you not realise how sensitive an issue this is for her?’
A look of pain crosses his face and I’m not sure whether it’s anguish at the things he said or from having had too much to drink.
‘We need to talk to her, Hugh, both of us together, calmly and rationally, but before we do that, you and I need to do the same. And then we need to tell her everything.’
Hugh’s head shoots up, his eyes wide. ‘No,’ he says. Definite. Not to be argued with.
‘Don’t you think she has a right to know?’ I ask, getting up to close the kitchen door. ‘Especially now. She’s going to think it weird enough that I used to be married to Sam, but imagine how she’ll feel if she finds out later that she’s actually his daughter and we haven’t told her.’ I can’t make my expression any more plaintive than it already is. ‘It isn’t how I wanted it to happen, but I can’t see how we can keep this from her now.’
Hugh gets to his feet, striding across the room and coming to rest by the sink. He places both hands on the counter top and stares out into the dark garden. ‘Kick a man when he’s down, why don’t you?’
‘See, Hugh? This is exactly what I mean. It’s not about kicking a man when he’s down, it’s about making you realise that you have a responsibility for this too. You’re turning this into something that’s my fault and it isn’t. I didn’t want things to be this way, remember? I’ve always disagreed about keeping the truth from both Esme and Sam, but that was easier when there was no chance that they would ever meet. But they have met, and this isn’t fair to either of them.’
I soften my voice. ‘Look, I understand how you feel, but you’re not going to lose Esme. Your name is on her birth certificate and you and you alone have been her father her entire life. I think you need to have a little more faith in her than that. She isn’t going to turn her back on you, she loves you.’
‘And what if you’re wrong?’ says Hugh, turning to me, his eyes beginning to redden. ‘She’s my little girl, Alys. I can’t lose her.’
I move over to him, laying a hand on his arm. ‘You won’t. But can’t you see how wrong it is not to tell her? She’s already confused. Having her dad all but accuse her mum of having an affair wasn’t the nicest thing to hear. And not just with anyone either, but to a man she already knows, as her boss’ ex-husband. But she’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s kind and compassionate and mature enough to deal with this now. And she will. Once she has the bigger picture. I’m not saying it will be easy, but I think you’re doing her a grave disservice if you keep this from her because of how you think she�
��ll feel about you. She’d be insulted that you didn’t trust her and if you’re scared you’re going to lose her, this is a guaranteed way to ensure it.’
Hugh’s face contorts. ‘Sam is not her father,’ he says, bitterly. ‘He never has been, and I can’t stand the thought of him having anything to do with her. He doesn’t deserve someone like her.’
‘Hugh,’ I say gently. ‘You don’t know Sam, not any more. And how do you know what kind of a father he’d be to Esme when you’ve never given him the chance to find out?’
‘No, and I don’t want to either.’
I sigh. I hadn’t expected Hugh to agree with me, but he must have thought about this over the years, and it’s his blanket refusal to even consider it that irritates me.
‘Neither would I given the choice. Do you really think I want all this upset? To turn Esme’s world upside down? But I’m trying to do the right thing, Hugh. Sam is not some faceless nobody that Esme will never meet, he’s intrinsically involved in the business she works for. We can’t go on letting them think they have one sort of relationship when, in fact, it’s completely different. It’s immoral apart from anything else. I’m sorry, but you have to consider what’s right for Esme. She’s an adult now and she should be able to make her own decisions.’
‘That’s easy for you to say when it’s not you that risks losing her.’
‘I know…’ I pause for a second, holding Hugh’s anguished look. ‘But I honestly don’t think you will. And it isn’t just Esme that this affects, is it? It affects Sam too, and his family. I haven’t known her for long, but Nancy is lovely; warm and compassionate. In fact, she already feels like family, and those are Esme’s words, not mine. It will be just as big a shock to her, but even though she’s now divorced from Sam, I know she’ll do all she can to help support Esme through this. Instead of viewing it as something negative, why don’t you think on it as Esme potentially gaining an extended family. Nothing could be better for her, given her position.’
He stares at me in disgust. ‘Well, if you think that’s what will happen, then you’re incredibly naive.’
‘Maybe I am. But it is one possible outcome for all of this, however improbable.’
Hugh fiddles with the handle of a mug that’s been left by the sink. His eyes are downcast and I have no idea what he’s thinking, but the silence between us is growing longer and longer.
‘You’ve got all this worked out, haven’t you?’ he says eventually.
‘Is that what you think?’ I reply. ‘I haven’t got any of this worked out, Hugh. I’m simply trying to discuss it with you so that we can come to a joint agreement over the right way to move forward. I have thought about it endlessly over the years, of course I have. Haven’t you? But thinking about it hypothetically is very different from actually being faced with it and having to decide what to do.’
Hugh considers my words, his expression unyielding. ‘I have thought about it, yes,’ he says. ‘And my decision is still the same as it was twenty-four years ago. I took you and Esme in then because I believed that I was the best person to love and care for you both. And that belief hasn’t changed.’ Hugh’s jaw is set in the same rigid way it always is when he’s about to share his decision. ‘I don’t want Sam to have anything to do with Esme, and I certainly don’t want him to have anything to do with you. Let him go home and then the rest of us can get on with our lives without him. Just as we always have done.’
‘And you really think that’s the answer, do you?’ I reply. ‘Just ignore it and it will all go away.’ I’m not about to tell Hugh that Sam has already gone, or that he knows about Esme. Hugh’s steadfast refusal to face up to things is infuriating. ‘You don’t think you need to say anything else?’ I wouldn’t normally push Hugh like this, but I’m not backing down, not this time.
He doesn’t reply.
‘So what are you going to say to Esme then? What are we going to say to her? I think at the very least you owe her an apology. And me for that matter.’
‘Fine,’ he says, eyes flashing. ‘I’ll apologise to Esme in the morning. And I’ll leave you to explain about your marriage to Sam…’ He breaks off, dropping his gaze. ‘I’m sure you’ll do a much better job than I will.’
It’s as much of an admission that he’s behaved badly as I’m going to get, but it also speaks to the fact that he wouldn’t have anything nice to say about Sam, and I’m reminded that we still haven’t discussed his comments from the other evening. I pick up my mug and swallow a couple of mouthfuls of tea. How did everything get so complicated? And how can one man make it so? I wrinkle my nose, wondering where to start.
‘Hugh, why are you and Sam at such loggerheads with one another?’ I ask. ‘Apart from the fact that you’ve accused me of having an affair, you don’t have a good word to say about him, or to him for that matter. Yet, as far as I’m aware, you were friends. You even came to our wedding, but when Sam had his accident all that seemed to change… In fact, thinking about it, I find it really odd that when over twenty years have gone by, during which time you haven’t seen him at all, the first thing you say to him is not “How are you?” or some comment about what an amazing recovery he’s made, but a warning to stay away from me…’
My thoughts are coming faster now. ‘When I put this together with a comment Sam made about not wanting to rekindle your friendship and you saying that I was the thing that came between you, then I don’t much like the picture I’m seeing.’
Hugh studies my face, his mouth set in a hard line. ‘I hate what he did to you, that’s all.’
‘No… there’s more to it than that. You shouldn’t hate him for what he did to me, because if we hadn’t split up you and I would never have been. He should hate you maybe, but not the other way around.’
Hugh is desperately trying to find the words to contradict me, but he can’t. He knows my memory of our conversation is accurate. His eyes narrow.
‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately,’ he says. ‘But anyone would think you’ve forgotten what happened, Alys. When Sam left you high and dry, I gave you a job, a home. I’ve given you my life and now it seems as if you might be questioning that. As if you might have preferred the alternative… I should have a long hard think about what that would have been like if I were you.’
I swallow, hard, feeling tension tighten the muscles in my chest.
‘I would have thought you’d be grateful, for everything I’ve given you,’ continues Hugh. ‘Not just materially, but in helping shape you into the person you are today. Knocked off all those nasty spiky edges for one.’
‘And what if I liked my spiky edges, Hugh?’ I retort. ‘At least I had a personality then; an opinion, my own thoughts. What am I now? Some homogenised idea of a woman, your idea of a woman; bland, compliant, unquestioning… Having to turn to you for everything and, worse, not even realising that this was the case.’
Mistaking care for control…
I take another deep breath. ‘I’ve given you a lifetime of grateful, Hugh. I am grateful, but when did our marriage become so one-sided? What about what I’ve brought to the mix?’
He’s silent, and I know he’s not going to answer me.
‘What about the dreams I gave up, Hugh? I know when Esme was little picking up my career again would have been difficult. But she hasn’t been little for a very long time. And this isn’t the first occasion I’ve mentioned it either. But each time I have, there’s always been a very valid reason why it wasn’t a good time, or why it was better I stayed at Harringtons. Someone less trusting than me might have wondered whether you preferred it that way, just so you could keep an eye on me.’
‘Oh, don’t be so ridiculous,’ he splutters. ‘You enjoyed it at Harringtons. God, you’ve even started moaning because I fixed it so that you’re not there any more—’ He stops abruptly, swallowing as he realises what he’s just said.
I raise my eyebrows. ‘Don’t look so worried, Hugh, I’d already worked out that’s what happene
d. And you’re right, I didn’t like it to start with. But only because I knew there had to be a reason for it, other than supposedly giving me what I’ve always wanted.’
For the first time I can see a flicker of unease begin to stir in Hugh’s eyes.
‘You see, I never really thought about it before. How as manager at Harringtons your salary together with mine should have been enough to cover our mortgage and living expenses quite easily. And yet we never seem to have any spare cash, do we? Money for Esme to go and do her diploma was a problem, money for cars, holidays, all the normal things that folks spend their money on. It never occurred to me to wonder why that was, and I’m quite disgusted with myself at how complacent I’ve been. But now I know the truth of our financial situation, it makes perfect sense.’
I’m trying so hard to be strong, but I can feel my resolve weakening. If I let myself become upset I’ll never be able to say the things I need to. Hugh’s head has dropped, one hand cupping his forehead.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask. ‘I’m your wife for God’s sake, Hugh. We’re supposed to share stuff like this… But do you know what’s almost worse? Not the fact that you can get us into debt to the tune of eighty thousand pounds and not tell me, but that now it makes me wonder what else you might have done.’
Hugh’s head jerks up. ‘I haven’t done anything,’ he insists. ‘So I made some bad investments… it happens. Investments that were supposed to transform our lives, not blight them,’ he says bitterly. ‘And I made them in good faith, Alys. You can’t blame me for that.’
I look at him sadly. ‘I don’t blame you for that,’ I say. ‘I’m furious with you, but more than anything I’m hurt because you didn’t believe in me enough to share those things with me. We should have discussed you taking out the investments in the first place but then, when things went wrong, we certainly should have. I could have helped. At the very least shared some of the burden.’
