Having It All (19 page)

David felt a wave of disgust for Logan, and the
News
, and the whole sleazy fucking world of newspapers. This was what failure felt like. He felt an overpowering urge to go and get
drunk.

Then he remembered that this was Liz’s vital meeting today and he should get home to find out how it had gone. And Jamie’s Sports Day too.

And then he remembered Britt and he realized that more than ever in his life he wanted to screw her until her cries of pleasure deafened him and told him that he was not a failure but a success.
And reaching for his briefcase he strode out of the building and hailed a taxi going east.

The more Liz thought about it, the better her plan sounded. It was frighteningly simple. When David got home tonight they just wouldn’t be there. It would give him such a
shock that he’d start to see sense again.

The only problem was where to go. Of course she could go to Mel’s. Or even Britt’s. Ginny and her mother were too far away. But she didn’t really want to admit to any of her
friends how bad things had got between her and David. And this way, if she was careful the children wouldn’t suspect anything either.

‘Come on Jamie, it’s your lucky day. We’re going off to celebrate again!’

Bathtime was over, they’d watched
Sesame Street
on the video and played snap three times. Now it was time to go. Carefully she carried Daisy out to her car-seat. She strapped them
both in and drove to the local pizza parlour. Fighting tiredness Jamie demolished a slice of Four Seasons and one of American. Then he fell asleep, tomato sauce still smearing his cheeks like
bloodstains in a horror film. Gently Liz wiped him clean and took them back to the car.

It was nine-forty-five and she reckoned for her plan to work she needed to drive around till one. The latest he’d ever got back in the past was midnight.

First she drove out to Windsor and round Windsor Great Park, stopping for a moment to look at the Castle lit up in the darkness. She smiled to herself, wondering whether the Queen had done
anything like this all those years ago, when Prince Philip had been rumoured to be having fun in the Mediterranean while she was stuck at home with her royal duties. It certainly added a new
dimension to that motherly, dignified figure.

Slowly she drove back through Richmond and Kew. Attracting curious glances she twice stopped at coffee stalls. In Fleet Street she bought an early copy of the
Daily News
, amazed at how
busy the area still was despite the evacuation of so many of the papers to their smart new homes in Dockland. At last, exhausted, she realized it was one a.m. and she could go home.

As she drew up outside the house she glanced up, half expecting an anxious face at the window, but the curtains were all drawn.

For a moment she allowed herself to imagine David inside, distraught and repentant, phoning anyone who might know where they were, trying not to face the worst, swearing he’d never see the
girl again if his family came back safely.

As she sat in the dark under the orange glow of a street lamp she heard their front door open and someone running down the steps. In thirty seconds she’d be in his arms, he’d be
crying and she would forgive him. He would say he’d never do it again and she would know it was true. Together they’d put the children to bed and renew their promises to each other, the
last few weeks a nightmare from which they had both woken up at last.

But the anxious face that appeared at the window wasn’t David’s. It was Susie’s. ‘Thank God you’re back.’ The relief in Susie’s voice made it
high-pitched and breathless. ‘David rang just after you left.’ Susie avoided looking at her and began to unstrap Daisy. ‘He said to tell you they had problems at the paper and
that he wouldn’t be home tonight.’

The first thing Liz noticed when she woke up was that it was curiously quiet in the bedroom. The clock-radio was off. There was no gentle snoring from David. And, most
noticeable of all, no whoops and shrieks from Jamie and insistent demands of ‘Up! Up!’ from Daisy wanting to climb into their bed.

It was so different from their usual noisy rumbustious mornings that for a split second Liz wondered if she was at home. But looking round in the dim light she saw the familiar, loved objects of
their bedroom – the elephant lamp her father had brought back from India, the naive painting of a bull David’s colleagues had given them as a jokey wedding present, the nursing chair
her mother had sent her when Jamie was born, the basket of toys for Jamie and Daisy.

She glanced again at the clock-radio. Nine o’clock! Jesus, she should be at work by now! And then she remembered. She wasn’t going to work. And with that realization the other
memories of yesterday flooded back with frightening, mind-numbing clarity. Yesterday was the day she’d chucked in her job. Yesterday was the day she’d tried to save her marriage. And
yesterday was the day David had chosen to spend the night in someone else’s bed.

For a moment Liz’s brain rejected the full horror of her position. Maybe she was overreacting. David had said there were problems at the paper. Everyone knew how unpredictable newspapers
were. They had technical problems. Union problems. Libel problems. Maybe he was telling the truth.

For a full thirty seconds Liz walked round the lifebelt David had thrown her and examined it. She could climb aboard and tell herself that it wasn’t the QE2 but it would do for the moment.
At least she could float on it until she felt strong enough to swim for the shore. And it was better than drowning, wasn’t it?

Yet there was just one small problem in accepting David’s story. Every instinct she possessed, every loving memory they shared, every bit of experience from twelve years together screamed
at her that it was a lie. David had not stayed at the paper. David had been making love to someone else. And suddenly Liz felt herself being sucked into a black hole of depression and despair. She
could cope with losing her job if it weren’t for the affair. And she could cope with the affair if she hadn’t just lost her job. But she couldn’t, no way could she, cope with
both.

Miserably she remembered a workmate saying life was fine if three things balanced: your work, your lovelife and your home. You could survive with one going wrong, two was tough, three the end.
For a moment she lay there staring at the ceiling, waiting for a crack to appear, waiting to hear the walls of her home start to crumble. But to her surprise what she heard was someone knocking on
the door instead. If she ignored them they would give up and go away. But they weren’t giving up. There were knocks and shouts and she heard Daisy shout ‘Mummy! Door!’ Somehow she
dragged herself out of the black hole which was sucking her in and got herself over to the door.

Like light chasing shadows Jamie and Daisy bounced into the room and she saw that Daisy held a bunch of freesias and Jamie clutched something round. Behind them Susie was carrying a tray with
croissants and she could smell fresh coffee. Almost shyly Jamie handed her the present and she saw that it was a rosette. TO OUR MUM, it said, FOR BEING VERY BRAVE. WE LOVE YOU. And finally Liz
felt the tears come. Tears for herself and her marriage and her babies, for the hopes they’d had and the waste of seeing it all in ruins. But then, as Jamie and Daisy ran to comfort her, they
became tears of gratitude that though there were precious things she’d lost, she still had so much left.

As she held them both tightly she saw Susie smiling in sympathy over the top of their heads. For a moment she felt embarrassed at how much the girl knew about her life. Too much. But what the
hell. Just at the moment she needed all the friends she could get.

‘By the way’ – Susie smiled shyly –‘about my notice. Things are different now. I know I’m due to leave in two weeks, but do you want me to stay on for a
bit?’

But before Liz could answer she heard the front door open. And they both knew it was David.

‘Would you like me to take the children?’ Susie jumped off the bed, nervously, the cosy atmosphere dissipated, and moved towards the door, sensing fireworks ahead.

‘No, it’s fine. Leave them.’

Why had she said that? Surely it would be better that they went quietly off with Susie?

Then, to her shame, Liz realized she wanted their protection. With them here nothing too terrible could happen. With them here she couldn’t accuse David of adultery and he couldn’t
leave for ever. For the first time she realized she was scared. She was no longer a well-paid TV executive. And if she lost David she’d be a single mother struggling to keep afloat. Was she
strong enough to take that risk?

She could hear David bounding up the stairs two at a time as he always did. Then there was a crash and they heard him shouting and swearing. Moments later he hopped in, rubbing his knee with one
hand, the cause of his fall, Jamie’s Ghostbusters Spook Exterminator, in the other.

‘For Christ’s sake, Jamie. You left this bloody thing on the stairs again!’ he bellowed.

As Jamie ran to her arms, Liz watched David flop on to the bed rubbing his knee.

‘Daddeee!’ crowed Daisy, throwing herself at him, as blissfully ignorant as Liz was painfully aware of his crumpled suit that had clearly spent the night on someone’s bedroom
floor, or the faint musky smell that hung about his clothes, as telltale as the guilt that still lurked in his eyes.

Hearing a small sob from Jamie, David leaned over and lifted him up, repentance already setting in. ‘Sorry for shouting, old son. Daddy’s a bit tired.’ He avoided Liz’s
eyes. ‘Hard night at the paper,’ he added lamely.

Watching them, she desperately wanted to believe him, that it was tiredness not guilt that made him so touchy, that the man she had loved and laughed with for the last twelve years had not
betrayed her as though none of that meant anything to him, that last night he had been, just as he said, having a hard night at the office. But she knew she couldn’t.

Suddenly David was struck by the realization that it was nearly ten a.m. and Liz wasn’t up yet. ‘What are you doing in bed? You should be at work.’ His tone seemed to suggest
that she was malingering. ‘Are you ill or something?’

She was so angry that she abandoned all thoughts of softening the blow. ‘If you’d bothered to come home last night you’d know that I resigned from Metro yesterday. So I can
stay in bed as long as I like!’

‘You resigned?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘You mean you walked out on a three-year contract worth nearly a quarter of a million because of your bloody ego? Knowing you wouldn’t get any severance pay and that you –
we
– would be left without a penny? Oh brilliant, absolutely bloody brilliant!’

He jumped up furiously and stormed towards the door. He knew that he shouldn’t be shouting at her, that he should be telling her everything was all right. But it fucking well wasn’t.
She’d given up Metro without so much as consulting him when any day he might find himself out of a job too. Replaced by some other smart young yob Logan brought in from the
World
.
Then they’d be on the streets. Them! The high-flyers that everyone envied!

‘David,’ Liz asked quietly, ‘you haven’t even asked me why I resigned.’

He stopped at the door and turned. ‘I don’t need to. I already know. Because you want to iron my shirts like your friend Ginny!’

Liz flinched. ‘That’s not fair. It isn’t about ironing shirts. I’ve just had enough of being pulled two ways. I want to be here for Jamie and Daisy. I want to make a home
for you to come back to.’

‘If we’re not careful we won’t
have
a home to come back to!’

What was he talking about?

But David didn’t wait to explain. It was as though saying she’d resigned had activated some unsuspected volcano. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Liz, I don’t want
a wife at home!’ The image of his mother dusting and cleaning all the joy out of his childhood flickered across his mind. ‘I want an equal. I want a woman who’s her own person
with her own life. I don’t want to live with my bloody mother!’

Liz felt furious at the unfairness of it all. How could she defend herself against that suffocating martyr who had pretended to give but had asked a price so high for her gift that her son was
still paying it? And so was she.

‘Look, Liz, let’s get one thing straight. You aren’t doing this for me. You’re doing it for you.’

And suddenly Liz found that she had no answer. He had wounded her to the quick. Because it was true. She had given up everything for a dream she thought they shared. And looking at David’s
angry face she saw that she was wrong. It was only she who wanted a different life after all.

As David walked from the room, Jamie started to sob. Looking at the fear on his face she lifted him up and held him, her own worries evaporating in her fierce desire to protect him, her first
born.

And for the second time that day she wondered what the hell she was going to do. She desperately needed someone to talk to. And with a great flood of relief she remembered that she was having
lunch with Mel today. Thank God for Mel. She was warm and witty and wise. If anyone knew what to do, she would.

Liz slipped under the steamy bubbles and felt the perfumed water swirl through her hair until it felt squeaky clean. Having a bath and time to get dressed slowly was such an
unfamiliar luxury that she was determined to enjoy it no matter what the circumstances. Next she intended to put on her smartest clothes to meet Mel. There was nothing like dressing to kill to
stave off depression.

She sat down at her dressing table and surveyed the damage done to her face. A tiny bit of puffiness remained but she’d managed to get rid of the redness round the eyes by soaking them in
Optrex. She just had time to do her hair and make-up before she had to leave.

Three-quarters of an hour later Liz looked in the triple mirror and was amazed. No one would guess that today was the worst day of her life. Her skin and hair were glowing with health, and worry
had even made her lose a couple of pounds she’d been meaning to shed for years. Now the bright yellow suit looked even better than when she’d worn it three months ago on her first day
as Programme Controller of Metro TV.