Journey to the Centre of Myself (28 page)

I shake my head.

‘It has too many memories and not that many are good ones. I’m with you. I need a fresh start.’

‘You could look into architecture?’

‘Don’t you think I could have looked into that years ago? I’m happy doing what I do. I don’t want to change my job. Yes, it can be risky when work is light, but there’s always someone who needs a builder. Little jobs to fall back on. Being an architect was just shit that came out of my mouth in my youth. I grew up.’

‘Do you think my idea about doing photography is like that then? A dream? Pie in the sky?’

‘Maybe, or maybe you’re having a midlife crisis, but you have to try. The money from the house sale can fund your dreams and I can find a new place to live. I only need a small flat for myself. A good thing is I can move nearer my mother.’

‘I really am interested in photography.’

He crosses his arms. ‘I don’t really care, Karen, to be truthful. We’ve agreed we’re separating, and that’s what we’re doing. If your plans don’t work out, if you get bored with travelling or your new career doesn’t take off, then I won’t be here. You want to be alone that’s what you’ll be.’

I feel like he’s hit me. His anger is unexpected.

‘I know I’ve hurt you.’

‘You haven’t got a fucking clue how I’m feeling. I don’t know myself. Part of the time I want to throw myself at your knees and beg you to stay, the other I want to cause you physical harm though I never would.’

‘I know you wouldn’t.’

‘But I feel like it. I’m so goddamn angry. When I went upstairs, I picked up your pillow, and I punched the shit out of it.’

‘I’ll leave.’

‘Karen, it’s Boxing Day, there’s nowhere to go.’

I try to force back laughter, but it escapes in a rush, a small giggle.

‘What?’ Adrian’s forehead is creased.

‘It’s the thought that on Boxing Day you’re punching pillows.’

‘That’s not funny.’

But he’s smiling.

I make us a hot drink.

‘When do you think you’ll go?’ Adrian asks as I place them down on coasters on the coffee table.

‘When do you want me to go?’

‘You answer my question, please.’

‘Maybe I could stay here until after New Year? Then I can make plans. I think I’m going to catch a little sun, have a month in the Canaries. Swim. Relax. Think.’

‘That’s fine. I’ll take the sofa.’

I know neither of us would ever make a bedroom of the spare room, it’s become unusable.

‘You don’t have to do that.’

‘No, it’s fine. I’ve fallen asleep on it many times before.’

Memories float through my mind; like when I’ve woken him up to come to bed when he’s been so tired from work he’s fallen asleep on the sofa.

A car backfires near the house. It’s been so quiet outside that it makes me jump.

‘The car, we never fetched the car,’ I say.

‘Amber said there was no rush. I’ll get it over the next day or so. Don’t worry about it.’

‘Shall I text her?’

‘No. I’m sure she had enough of us yesterday. Leave her alone today.’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I hope Steve’s left her alone.’

‘That’s one thing I won’t miss about our marriage, your bloody brother. I’ll be well pleased to be shot of him.’

‘I don’t think that’s necessary, slagging off my brother.’

‘Yeah, cos I bet he’s never said a bad word about me in his life. Your brother never thought I was any good for you.’

‘I’m not going to enter into a conversation about Steve.’

‘Because you’d lose. He better not upset that nice woman.’

‘He won’t.’

‘Make sure he doesn’t. And makes sure you tell him that you decided to leave me. I was here, fighting until the end. You were the one who threw in the towel. Do you want to snigger about that now? A boxing reference on Boxing Day? Fucking hysterical that is.’

I realise I’m kneeling forward with my hands resting over my ears. Each sentence he utters is like a blow to my psyche. I wanted it to be civilised. For us to be grown-ups. I wanted… The perfect break up, I guess. But we’re far from perfect, Adrian and I.

So I pick up my coffee cup and throw it at the wall.

It makes a satisfying smash.

The droplets of coffee fountain everywhere—down Adrian, myself, the mirror, the sofa. Like dirty tears on a cheek.

Adrian wipes his face at the same time he looks at the destruction wrought by a solitary coffee cup and then turns his gaze to me. ‘You’ve soaked my bed. You can have the sofa tonight.’

I nod in agreement. It’s only fair.

‘Just after the New Year then,’ he says. ‘We need to try to avoid each other until then. I’ve loads of work I can be doing. You finalise whatever you need to. Could we leave the actual divorce until we’re more sorted?’

‘I’m not in a rush for a divorce.’

‘Well I want one, Karen, but I can’t get my head around the details just yet.’

‘Adrian, I really am sorry it’s come to this.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. In fact, no—I’m not sorry. I am who I am—if it isn’t enough for you. That’s
your
problem, not mine. That’s what I need to remember.’

I begin to sob again. ‘Too much happened. We can’t fix what went wrong, and I need other things out of life. We’re destroying each other. This is for the best, I know it is.’

‘It’s only ever been about what
you
want, Karen. I moved back to England to be with you. You’re trying to make out things were so terrible, but all I ever did was try to make you happy.’

‘That’s just it, though.
I
need to make me happy. I can’t rely on other people creating it for me. It’s in here—somewhere.’ I put my fist in the centre of my ribcage.

‘Well, I hope you find it. I hope in the end your journeys are worth it.’

That’s the last large conversation we have until I leave.

Chapter 30

Amber

Boxing Day is divine. A lovely quiet day. I finish my Christmas book. It ends with a romantic Happy Ever After and I perform a satisfying stretch as I throw it to the floor. Nothing is finer than a good Christmas read.

I’m surprised I get the whole day to myself with zero interruptions. Adrian’s car stays parked outside the house. I wonder how Karen is getting on. Maybe they’re working things out?

Now, what time is it in New Zealand? I suppose I should attempt to Skype with my mother.

Work is quiet. Being at work on the days in between Christmas and New Year is strange. It’s like the planet has been invaded by alien life forms. People are sloth-like, full of too much indulgence, like little slugs trying to slither through to New Year. Then they return like brainwashed carcases declaring new fitness regimes and ideas for life changes as if they haven’t just spent the past ten days in a sugar or alcohol induced coma.

The phones aren’t ringing and the day drags on. Even the rapport between Mirelle and myself isn’t enough to stop us yawning and wishing the rest of the week away.

‘Roll on next week and some normality,’ says Mirelle, mirroring my thoughts.

‘I wonder when they’ll advertise the job?’

‘Can’t see it taking that long, not if it's internal.’

‘How are we going to get through today? I’m bored out of my skull.’

‘Christ knows. I’m having trouble staying awake.’

‘You should try sleeping at night.’ I wink.

‘Let’s do a typing competition until lunch, see how many letters we can get through and then after lunch we can see how many chocolates we can eat without feeling sick. That way, Jo can’t come back claiming she does all the work and we won’t have left her any chocolates to stuff her face with.’

I must be bored because I agree.

Andi comes into the office before its time for us to leave with a face that looks like she’ll put a horse head on someone’s pillow.

‘Everything okay, Andi?’ Mirelle asks.

‘Well, that’s what I’ve come to find out, isn’t it?’

Mirelle and I exchange worried glances.

‘I’ve been on the phone to Jo. I needed to tell her about the post being advertised as I was about to release it today. In the interest of all the staff being aware, I’ve been calling the secretaries who are on holiday to give them advance warning in case they were interested.’

‘Jo’s got a job,’ says Mirelle.

‘I can still end up with a legal complaint if I leave someone out. Anyway, Jo filled me in on the events of her dinner party. Something she is very unhappy about—she claims a friend of both of yours punched Mr Smith in the face.’

‘That’s because—’

‘There’ll be plenty of time for explanations. I’ll gather evidence from everybody and then we’ll decide on an appropriate course of action. But I need to inform you, Amber, this may affect your application, depending on Mr Smith’s version of events.’

I’m screwed.

‘In the meantime, from Monday, Jo will work for Mr Smith. She says she’s very happy to do so, in the interim period.’

‘So, I still have a job?’

‘You’re a temp, Amber. I’ll move you to the general office while my investigation takes place. So on Monday, you’ll join the team there. Once I’ve interviewed Mr Smith, I’ll let you know whether you still have a job here.’

Oh my God.

‘You can remain in this office for the rest of the week seeing as everyone is on annual leave. Mirelle the same goes for you too. General office next week, please. Jo also mentioned a possible relationship between you and Mr Smith. She thinks it’s the root of what happened at her dinner party. Until I’ve discussed all this with Mr Smith, you’ll be working in the pool.’

Mirelle’s eyes narrow. ‘What about Smithy? Does the boss get to keep his post? Very convenient.’

Andi’s face softens. ‘Mirelle, please. I’ve never had to deal with a situation like this before. Let me have the next few days to figure out how to handle it.’

Mirelle puts her finger to her chin in thought and nods slowly. ‘Fine. The next few days. But I’ll be making my own complaint.’

‘Thank you.’

Andi leaves us. I’m sitting at my desk. We did all that work today and for what? So Jo gets to come in on Monday and have an easy day while we’re stuck in the pool. If I lose my job, how the hell am I going to pay my bills? I’ll have to sell the house to Will after all.

This year is such a crock of shit.

‘Well, I think our lovely little Jo set us up nicely there,’ says Mirelle.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Think about it. She invites us to her dinner party, which I thought was weird in the first place being as she’s never invited me before. Then she just happens to invite my ex-lover along.’

‘She’s not like that.’

‘Isn’t she? What about the email she failed to receive that day you were late in?’

‘I’m sure it just didn’t get there.’

‘She worked alongside Karen. I bet she thought when she was made redundant that the job would be hers, but they gave it to you. All, this time, that bitch has been setting us up.’

‘I’m sure there’s an explanation.’

‘Well, whatever it is, come Monday, I’ll certainly be getting it out of her.’

‘What am I going to do if they let me go?’

‘It won’t happen, Amber. Tomorrow we need to get our game face on. Plan of action.’

‘And tonight?’

‘Let’s get pissed. I’ll ring Shaun, tell him we’re going to the pub and I’ll see him later.’

‘Let’s go to mine. I’ve still got loads of Christmas booze in. Though I’m going to have to tighten my belt now.’

‘I’ll throttle that bitch.’

‘
Mirelle
.’

‘If it wasn’t for Shaun I’d screw her husband.’

‘You can’t solve everything with sex.’

‘Want to bet?’

A few hours and several drinks later, Mirelle is still talking about urinating in Jo’s drink or sending her a prank letter headed ‘VD clinic’ that she bought from a joke shop in Blackpool. I’m laid out on a throw on the floor, looking up at the ceiling as if the tiny cracks in the plaster may hold the real meaning of life.

‘Everything’s better when I’m drunk, but when I sober up, I realise I’ve done something stupid. So I’ve decided to stay drunk.’ I sit up. The room spins so I lie back down. ‘Oh dear, I’m a leetle bit smashed.’

‘What time is it?’ Mirelle has a watch on but obviously wants me to read the time on it for her.

I roll towards her arm.

‘Seven-fifteen.’

‘I need to go. My man is waiting for me.’

‘You’ve lost it. Gone over to the dark side where love pretends to be. You’ll be all happy and then boom.’ I make a gun with my fingers and shoot her. ‘All gone.’

‘Guns don’t go boom. Just my heart.’