The Runaway Woman (18 page)

Lucy stood for what seemed an age, studying this man who had been her life since she was little more than a child. Even now, after everything she had seen, she could not deny that she still loved him. He was her husband, and the father of her two children.
That meant something to her; even if it meant nothing to him.

Sadly, there seemed nothing here for her now, especially knowing how Martin felt about her: ‘unlovable … and cold’. So revealing. And much too cruel.

She waited, hoping he might say something that would show he still loved her, and that Paula was lying for her own ends.

Another agonising moment, and still he did not look up. Nor
did he speak.

At last turning away, she told him sadly, ‘Do what you like, Martin. I don’t care any more. Set up a new life with my sister, if that’s what you truly want. I promise I won’t get in your way. But whatever happens now, this sham of a marriage is well and truly over.’

When it seemed he was about to protest, she cut in sharply, ‘No, Martin! I don’t want to hear what you’ve got to
say. I only know what I’ve seen with my own eyes … and I can’t forget. I might have forgiven you the first time, but not now. I think it’s best if we go our own ways.’

Unwilling to look on him a moment longer, she took a deep breath and walked away.

At the door, she glanced back. ‘Just now, the whole world must have heard what Paula said: that you actually wanted you and her to live together.’
She gave a sad little smile. ‘Don’t let me or the children stop you and her from doing whatever you want. The truth is, Martin, the two of you deserve each other.’

For one last, aching moment, against her better judgement, she felt the need to linger.

Martin, though, remained silent.

So, with a heavy heart she left him there, to contemplate his future.

Upstairs in the bedroom,
she went straight to the wardrobe.

Searching out a small suitcase, she swung it onto the bed and threw open the lid. She paused awhile, the tiniest bitter-sweet smile touching her lips. She remembered where the suitcase had been – a holiday in Blackpool, when the children were just little tots. Then, two years later, it went with them to a caravan in Brighton.

In her deepest, fondest memories,
Lucy could picture the babies playing on the sands, while Martin and herself sat by and guarded them.

‘They were good days,’ she whispered to herself, ‘a time to be happy.’ Thinking about it now, she could recall only a few such happy times. Each one was incredibly precious to her, and always would be. The question flooded her mind: could there be more good memories made if she stayed with Martin?
But if she felt that the marriage was over, and there was no hope of reconciliation, what then would be the consequences? Maybe Anne and Sam would feel that it was her doing if the marriage was ended. They might blame
her
for splitting up the family.

Suppressing the nostalgia, she grabbed a few items out of the wardrobe. She then scoured the room to collect a number of private things – photographs
and personal toiletries, as well as her small bag of make-up. Whatever happened in the future, Lucy realised that today was not only changing her life, but
all
their lives.

Lucy had never really mastered the art of making herself look good, but she did like a touch of colour on her lips, and a dash of cover-up for the freckly blemish that sat below the brow of her left eye. She smiled wearily.

Now, as she quickly placed the items into her case, the truth of what she was actually doing hit hard.

‘I never dreamed I would walk away from here,’ she murmured softly, ‘This is my home. It’s where my children grew up. If I go, the family may never recover. Is what Martin did bad enough that I should allow it to damage our lives for ever?’ Yet she knew that one way or another their lives were
already changing.

For the moment she had no idea where she might end up, and so took only the bare necessities: clean underwear, a couple of pretty nightgowns, the old, worn slippers, and a bag of general toiletries.

When the lid of the suitcase was eventually closed, she sat at the dressing table and cried.

After a while she looked up, staring at her image in the mirror. Hmm! You’re not much
to look at, are you, Lucy? She gave a wistful smile.
Lovejoy
. Well, there’s a contradiction in terms for a woman without love or joy.

She stole a moment to study herself in the mirror.

Her mid-brown hair was unkempt as usual, and her brown eyes were heavy with sadness.

Critically observing herself, she gave a wry litle smile. ‘Shapeless figure, dressed in shapeless clothes, no sense of style.
Hair is too mousy, too wild and too unruly … eyes too small, and they aren’t even one colour, being neither brown nor grey.’ She gave a sorry little laugh. ‘Truth be told,’ she concluded, ‘there’s nothing outstanding about you at all! You’re a bit of this and a bit of that. You’re not exciting, or clever. You have no sense of adventure, and you have no backbone. You should be more assertive, but
people walk all over you because you let them.’

In that moment, she loathed herself. ‘And now look what you’ve done! You’ve put yourself out of house and home, instead of standing up and fighting for what’s yours!’

But then she reminded herself, ‘What would be the point, when your cheating husband would rather be with your sister than with you? And who can blame him? She’s younger and prettier,
and she has a natural excitement about her that you never had, and never will!’

After ranting on, she felt suddenly calm. She collected a few last, private items: her notebook and pen; the wallet carrying photographs of Anne, Sam and her small grandson. There was one of Martin, but she took it out and laid it on the bed.

After checking the money in her purse, and raiding her bag and bedside
drawer, she was somewhat relieved. She had enough to keep her going for at least a week.

Now, though, she had a dilemma.

Should she go to see Anne, and tell her the ugly truth? Or should she lie, and make up some excuse as to why she was going away? She agonised as to how she could sensibly deal with the situation. It was an uncomfortable truth that, however she might choose to explain her departure,
there would be awkward questions.

After much consideration, she promised herself that she would not tell her children the whole truth, at least not yet. For now, she would explain just enough for the family to know that she would not be around for a while, but that she would be in contact.

Folding her arms onto the dressing table, she leaned forward and laid her head to rest on them. With her
eyes closed and her heart aching, she was suddenly swamped with all manner of doubts.

What on earth are you doing, Lucy? she asked herself. What’s going to happen to you? You’re not even sure where you might go. And what about your job? You’re bound to lose it now. Oh, and what if Martin brings Paula to live in the house? If he did that there would be no way back for you, not even if you wanted
it. And what would the children think?

The worries came thick and fast, each one bringing another.

But … what if the minute you’re gone, he moves out of here, and into Paula’s house? What would happen to this house, and where would the children go to visit … if they wanted to? The idea of this house standing empty, or being filled with strangers, sent a pang of regret through her.

So now, she
began to have doubts about leaving. After all, it was a huge step, and she had never been away from home on her own before … except for that one time when her mother was poorly and she stayed over for a few days to help her father cope.

‘You stop it right now, Lucy Lovejoy!’ She wagged a finger at herself in the mirror. ‘Just remember, you’re not the one in the wrong. If this house is lost, it
won’t be your fault!’

Anger surged through her. ‘Don’t be a coward, Lucy. Do what you need to do, and don’t give them a second thought!’

Just then, on hearing the front door close, she scrambled off the stool, and ran to the window. There was Martin, hurrying away, in the direction of Paula’s house. Hmm, that said it all!

The grim truth hit hard: He wants her so much, he couldn’t even wait
until I’d gone? Seeing him run to Paula like that, was Lucy’s wake-up call.

Within a matter of minutes, she was ready to leave, though she was not at all easy about it, feeling truly fearful of what might happen to her now.

Deep down, she was afraid of being lonely; and of never again finding a place to call home. Her greatest fear, though, was that she might lose the love of her children.

She suddenly realised that it was the constant love and presence of her children and her beloved parents that had kept her content for these many years.

Their characters were so very different that she and Paula had never really been close, even as children. As for Martin … well, he was just there, being Martin; expecting a clean shirt for going out, and a meal when he came home.

Day or night,
he went out whenever and wherever he chose, and he came back at whatever time suited him. In between, there were few hugs and gentle words for Lucy, and what there were, were merely part and parcel of having sex. Otherwise, she rarely received a hug or a cuddle from him, except on the few occasions she made the first move.

Outside of the rare snippets of closeness, it seemed as though she was
merely part of the furniture. And sadly, over time, she had come to accept her place.

Martin was outgoing, with a strong circle of friends. Being enthusiastic participants in the darts team, and the football club, they regularly gathered in the pub, to swap stories and enjoy an hour or so together.

In contrast, Lucy hardly ever went out and had no real friends apart from Kathleen. Rarely did
she buy herself a pretty dress, and even when she did treat herself to something attractive, she had nowhere to wear it. She did not see the point of spending money on frivolous pretties when it was needed elsewhere.

Consequently, over the years, she gently settled into the mother and housekeeper mantle. Like Martin, she worked long and hard to earn a wage, which went on the house and family.

Work, worry, and family duties. In a nutshell, that was her entire life.

Beginning to feel sorry for herself, she quickly counted her blessings. She had brought two beautiful children into the world, and alongside Martin, she had made a home for their family.

These good, positive things were now sadly overshadowed by the crippling knowledge that her husband preferred to sleep with his sister-in-law,
rather than with his own wife.

That shocking discovery had cut so deep that it had taken away her confidence, her life as she knew it, and whatever small future she might have expected.

There seemed little left for her now.

However hard she tried to be positive, she now felt alone, afraid and abandoned.

T
HE EVENING WAS
already dark when Lucy closed the door on the house where she had been content for many years.

She glanced nervously down the street, wondering if Martin might come home, having reflected on his position and wanting to talk things through, but there was no sign of him, and in her bruised heart she was glad of that.

She lingered on the step for a sorry moment, remembering
the years she had spent in this little house; quiet, uneventful years, where life had gently ticked away without even a noticeable ripple.

Before regrets overwhelmed her, she hurried down the path and onto the street, where she hastened her steps.

Sneaking many a backward glance as she hurried away, she felt a great wrench on realising how very young she had been when she and Martin had moved
into that darling little house. It had been her home for more than twenty years, and regardless of recent events, it would always hold a fond place in her heart.

As she hurried along, her mind was alive with all manner of questions. Would Martin miss her? And what about her darling parents – what would they have said about the situation she now found herself in?

Oh, how she missed them both!
How desperately she needed just to see their homely faces again, to wrap her arms about their old shoulders and tell them how very much she loved them.

When the searing emotions overwhelmed her, it all became too much. Leaning against an alley wall, she dropped the suitcase to the ground, and holding her hands to her face, she cried like she had never cried before; like her heart was breaking.
Like there was nothing left in this whole wide world that could ever make her happy again.

She sobbed until there were no more tears, aware there was no hope, and no one who would understand how lost she felt in that desolate moment.

‘What are you doing, Lucy?’ she asked herself quietly. ‘Where are you going?’

She had no answers; only questions. And a crippling sense of unbearable loneliness.

A short time later, as she continued her way down the street to her daughter’s house, Lucy paused to gather her thoughts. She reminded herself not to say anything to Anne or Sam about Martin and Paula. Instead, she would merely say that Kathleen had asked her to stay with her for a few days, and that she had accepted her gracious offer.