Moving On (24 page)

She wished he’d come home. It was boring without him. She went to look in the fridge but didn’t feel like fussing with food, so ate a banana, then fell asleep in front of the television.

It was nearly six o’clock before she heard footsteps on the stairs and a key in the front door. She turned eagerly to greet him. It’d be all right now. She’d take him to bed and show him how much she loved him.

Jamie didn’t smile at her, didn’t even come across to hug her, so she went across to hug him. He stiffened and moved her to arm’s length, before walking past her into the bedroom.

‘I’m sorry I got trashed the other night. I’ll not drink as much next time I go out with my friends.’

He spun round, scowling. ‘You still intend to go clubbing?’

‘We said we’d each keep up with our friends. And you don’t like dancing.’

‘I also don’t like my wife going out dancing with other men.’

‘Oh, that. It means nothing. I was dancing with the girls half the time.’

‘You probably don’t remember, but one of your friends told me they’d had to stop you going off with some guy or other.’

She stared at him in shock. ‘I didn’t!’

‘Only because they stopped you, apparently.’

‘They were just joking. I wouldn’t.’

‘Somehow I don’t think it was a joke. They were too drunk to do anything but tell the truth.
In vino veritas.
’

She watched resentfully as he hung up his outdoor things and shut the wardrobe door. Mr Perfect he was, always keeping things tidy.

When he went back into the living room, he picked up a book and began to read it.

How dare he ignore her? She twitched the book out of his hand. ‘Don’t read. Talk to me. I’ve been on my own all day, well, except for a phone call from Brian.’

He picked up his book from where she’d tossed it on the floor and straightened the pages, then put it carefully on the arm of his chair, keeping one hand on it. ‘What did your brother want?’

‘To tell me that Mr Benton had died, the old man next door to Mum’s. Brian wanted me to write Mrs Benton a letter of condolence. As if.’

She’d dismissed that idea so casually, Jamie frowned at her. ‘Can you not spare the time even to write a letter or send a card?’

‘What’s it to do with me? I don’t live there any more. Mum will write and— Oh no, she’s not living there now, either, so she might not know.’ Her face brightened. ‘But Brian said he’d write, so that’s OK.’

It was the final straw, that casual dismissal of the death of an old man who’d been charming and whose wife of many years would no doubt be dreadfully upset. Jamie stood up, knowing he couldn’t take any more. Just . . . couldn’t. It seemed wrong to say something like this sitting down.

He took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy. ‘We made a mistake, Rachel.’

‘What?’

‘Getting married was a mistake. I don’t want to spend my life with you. We don’t have enough in common. I’m sorry, really sorry. I’ve been thinking about it for a while and I won’t change my mind. I’ll move out and leave this flat for you.’

She’d been staring at him in growing horror as his words sank in, but now she suddenly clutched his arm. ‘You can’t mean that. If it’s about the clubbing, I won’t go again. Jamie, tell me you don’t mean that. Tell me you’re just trying to frighten me into doing what you want. And I will. I promise I will.’

He had to unclench her fingers to get her hand off him, she was clutching him so tightly. ‘I’m not trying to make you do anything, Rach. I’m trying to tell you that except for making love, you and I have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing. What’s more, I don’t like living with you. You’re a slob. This place is filthy.’

He’d expected her to scream at him, but she didn’t. She stood and stared in complete silence, her beautiful eyes huge; her whole face tragic.

The trouble was, he’d learned that the expressions on her face meant very little. She got that tragic look if she spilled her favourite perfume or burned a piece of toast and couldn’t get it out of the toaster.

‘I’ll go and pack my things, get it over with.’ He remembered suddenly the tales of women cutting up their husband’s clothes because they were leaving, and changed his mind about taking only minimal stuff. He’d take everything in one fell swoop. His parents would let him stay with them temporarily, he was sure.

It took him nearly three hours to pack, and he had to fight her off to keep her from pulling his stuff out of the case again. It was a good thing he’d bought some new bin liners, because he filled them too.

She kept flinging herself between him and his packing, begging him to give her another chance.

He spoke to her gently each time. ‘It won’t work, Rach.’

‘But we’re
married.
And we’ve only been married for two months. You’re not giving it a chance.’

‘I think all the fuss about the wedding hid how incompatible we were before. We were so busy we never stopped to talk about anything else. Our marriage won’t work. Not ever. We’re too different, in every way that counts.’

‘But we’re so good in bed.’

‘That’s not what marriage is about, well, not the only thing.’

‘What will people say?’

‘I don’t care what people say.’

She hurled his shaver across the room then turned to look for something else to throw.

‘If you damage any more of my things, I’m calling in the police.’

She lay down across the bedroom doorway.

He continued packing, then stepped across her, only she caught hold of his leg and tripped him up. He cracked his head on the corner of a table and for a minute could only lie there, stunned.

‘I’ve killed him! Jamie, speak to me. Jamie! I’m sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry.’

He got to his feet. ‘I’m all right.’ He caught sight of himself in the mirror. ‘I’m going to have a black eye tomorrow, though.’

Someone knocked on the door. ‘Mr Thomas! Are you all right?’ He hesitated, then went to answer it and found the lady from the next flat looking up at him.

‘You’ve hurt yourself.’

‘Go away, you stupid bitch!’ Rachel yelled. ‘He’s leaving me and I don’t need you poking your nose into it.’

Their neighbour glanced from Rachel back to Jamie.

‘I tripped,’ he said.

‘Or you were pushed,’ she said. ‘The walls are quite thin. I’m afraid I could hear a lot of what was going on.’

He shrugged, then turned as there was the sound of something else smashing in the bedroom. He ran across to see Rachel standing triumphantly over the ruins of his computer.

He wanted to weep that it should descend to this, but he forced himself to think. ‘Mrs Upperton, could you please come and witness this?’

‘My pleasure.’

That reminded him that Rachel had upset her a few times now with loud music and been totally unrepentant. ‘And if you could bear to stay while I take the rest of my things on to the landing?’

‘Put them in my flat till you can call a cab.’

‘Thank you.’

It was an hour before he was clear, and he took the ruins of his computer with him in case any data could be salvaged from the hard disk.

He didn’t ring his parents, couldn’t talk about this on the phone.

When he knocked on their door, his father answered, already in pyjamas and dressing gown.

‘I’ve left Rachel. Can I come here temporarily?’

‘Of course, son. Need a hand with your stuff?’

‘No. The driver and I can manage. Where shall I put them?’

‘Your old bedroom is still empty. Why not go back there?’

He saw his mother standing in the doorway of the living room. ‘I’m all right,’ he assured her. ‘I could do with something to eat, though, if you don’t mind?’

She nodded and walked off to the kitchen.

When he’d got his things into his old room, Jamie went downstairs.

‘You don’t have to tell us the details, if you’d rather not,’ his mother said. ‘And you can stay as long as you like.’

Everything twisted round in his head then, and he found himself sobbing against her like a stupid child.

Thirteen

Craig went to work early on the Monday. Tasha was in a picky mood, and was letting him know it, so he decided it’d be a good day to go off to the gym. He grinned as he sat down at his desk afterwards. She certainly knew how to go straight for what she wanted. But she was good value as a wife, and he preferred her sharpness any day to Molly’s slackness and poor appearance.

He had a good day and as usual time flew past. Most of the accounts he managed were flourishing and salesmen from his area were bringing in more orders than any other group in the company. They might grumble at the way he kept a close eye on them and directed what they did, but he always told them to look at the commissions they were earning and decide what they wanted out of life: money or a touchy-feely boss.

As he was crossing the hall to the executive coffee-making area, a woman came down the corridor from her husband’s office. Sour-faced old bitch, he thought as he smiled brightly at her. ‘Hi, Ginny. You’re looking well today.’

She stopped and smiled back, pretending to be glad to see him, but he knew better.

‘So are you, Craig. But then, you always do. Heard from Molly lately?’

‘No. Should I have?’

‘I thought you might have done now she’s settled somewhere. We ran into her this weekend.’

He’d been going to move on, but swung round. ‘Where?’ Damn, he’d given himself away. She was smiling like a cat tormenting a mouse.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘Ginny, don’t play games with me. The whole family is anxious about her because she’s not the sort to cope well on her own. And she is still the mother of my children, even if we’re no longer married.’

She pretended to consider, then shrugged. ‘Well, for your children’s sake, then. Molly’s selling houses in Wiltshire – or more likely
not
selling them. One can’t imagine her working successfully in sales, can one?’

‘Wiltshire? Whereabouts exactly?’

When they’d finished their chat, Craig moved on, trying to work out what to do about his damned ex. He’d thought he was driving her gradually to the point of selling to him and now, it seemed, she’d not only rented the house to Stuart Benton, who wouldn’t be easy to frighten off, but she was making a living – though he agreed with Ginny for once: a more unlikely saleswoman than Molly would be hard to imagine.

He didn’t like to think of her living comfortably, not needing to sell the house. The stupid bitch didn’t
deserve
a place like that, and if she wasn’t going to live in Lavengro Road, why was she being so obstinate about selling it to him? He could raise his price a little, but he wasn’t flush at the moment, because of the wedding, and he couldn’t go much higher. Who’d have thought a one-day event would cost so much? But he only had one daughter, and even if she’d chosen a no-hoper, he’d wanted to see her off in style.

Well, Benton might have driven the lads away with his paint gun, but the game wasn’t over yet. There were many ways to kill a cat. Benton’s mother was living next door, and she would make a much more vulnerable target. It’d have to be planned carefully, though. As Tasha said, he didn’t want to risk his job or his good name.

Whistling cheerfully, he began to plan a little outing for the following weekend. This was something he would enjoy doing.

Rachel didn’t surface until eleven o’clock on the Monday morning. She thought for a minute or two it was Sunday, then suddenly everything came rushing back to her and she began to sob. Her head ached and her eyes were swollen. She couldn’t possibly go to work.

It was nearly lunchtime when she plucked up the courage to ring her father. He might be angry, no, he
would
be angry, but he’d not let her down.

‘Daddy, I—?’ She started to cry again.

‘Rachel? What’s the matter, princess?’

‘It’s Jamie. He’s left me.’

Dead silence at the other end, then, ‘I’ll just check my diary.’

She heard him muttering and prayed he’d have some time free.

‘Sorry, princess, but I can’t come over till after work. Killer day, here. I’ll ring Tasha and see if she’s free.’

‘I don’t want Tasha, I want you. I
need
you.’

‘No can do, baby. Hang in there. I’ll see you as soon after six as I can make it.’

She heard him put the phone down, and it was a while before she realized what the buzzing tone meant and put her own phone down.

She got up and stumbled into the bathroom, then went to make herself a cup of coffee. Almost as an afterthought, she made herself a piece of toast and spread it thickly with strawberry jam, suddenly ravenous. Three more slices and she felt a bit better.

Not knowing what to do, she wandered across to sit on the sofa. Noticing something on the floor, with just a corner showing, she picked it up. Some stupid fantasy novel. She hurled it across the room, but that wasn’t enough, so she went to pick it up and began tearing out the pages.

‘Try reading that!’ she panted. ‘You and your stupid books.’

She looked around for other stuff to take her feelings out on, but could find nothing of his left. Nothing, except for the fragments of his computer. She began to sob again as she swept them up.

It seemed a long day and in the end she fell asleep on the sofa.

Molly spent the morning catching up on her washing and cleaning the caravan, which didn’t take long, so she sat and read a romance novel for a while, wishing she had the heroine’s courage to go straight for what she wanted.

When she saw Euan open the sales office just after lunch, she strolled up, looking forward to work. It was so pleasant living here. Her life had really taken a turn for the better. Even the caravan now seemed like home.

He smiled at her and pulled her into his arms for a kiss, murmuring against her ear. ‘Mmm. Nice.’