The Torn Up Marriage (24 page)

“Are you alright? Was Lottie with you? Is she okay? Why didn’t you ring me?”

Why?
Since you walked out to live with your mistress. Since you drafted up divorce papers. Since I’ve had to find a way to do it all by myself.

She looked up at him, tired with it all. “It’s okay, Lottie’s fine now, just tired out. She fell asleep on the sofa a half-hour ago. I checked her a few minutes back.”

Relief spread across his features. “And Em?”

“She’s not here. She wasn’t with us. And she went back with Mel to play with Jack after nursery this morning. Mel said she’d keep her as long as we needed… I’d better go get her soon, but I thought I’d just let Lottie have her sleep first.”

“Well, I could pick her up, if that helps?”

“Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”

“And you, are
you
alright, Kate?” He moved in closer, reaching out instinctively, about to put his arms around her. She flinched as his fingertips brushed her shoulder.

“I’m okay.” Her tone was cold. He had hurt her so much in these past months. He couldn’t come strolling back in giving sympathy when it suited.

He backed away. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

She wasn’t sure if it was for trying to touch her, for the upset of the accident, or for everything he’d done.

“Shall I go and check on Lottie?”

“Yes, if you like. It’s all been a bit of shock. And she wasn’t well anyhow, being sent home from school like that. Had a bit of a temperature. I got her checked out at the doctors just in case. I was worried about whiplash…” Kate sighed, weighed down with remembering. “And the guy. The one I reversed into was horrid. Aggressive. Shouting at me. I think he may have frightened her a bit.”

“The bastard. I wish I’d have been there. I’d have sorted him out.”

But you weren’t there, were you?
Kate thought.
You haven’t been there for a long time
.

“I’ll go through and check her. Don’t worry, I won’t wake her up if she’s asleep.”

Kate nodded. Watched the back of his head as he turned, the familiarity of his form, his short, dark hair. Heard his footsteps soft in the hallway. Silence. Then he was back.

“She’s still asleep,” his words were hushed. “She seems okay. She looked peaceful.”

“That’s good.”

There was a hush around them both.

“And the car? Was there much damage?”

Kate had kept her run-around, a black Corsa.

“Didn’t look too good, I’ve crunched the bumper, dented the boot and a light was smashed out, I think. I didn’t really check thoroughly, though, was more worried about Lottie. I suppose I’d better get it to a garage. Get a quote or something. Then there’s the insurance and all that to sort, isn’t there? The guy was going on about that. Wanted me to accept liability.” Her voice wavered. It suddenly all seemed too much. Tears were pricking behind her eyes. She’d been strong since the accident. Why now, in front of Michael? She didn’t want to break down now, didn’t want him to see her weak.

“Don’t worry, Kate. I’ll deal with that if you like. I can find the insurance docs and I’ll ring the garage first thing.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She could do it. She’d had to do plenty on her own of late.

“I don’t mind helping, honestly.” His blue eyes held hers.

She was too tired to argue. “Okay, then, thanks.”

“Well, I’ll go and fetch Emily now, yeah? Is Mel still living on Castle Drive?” Kate nodded, as he continued, “Can I get you a cup of tea or anything before I go?”

Why was he being so nice?
How could he hurt her so badly, then want to help out now? When really it was all too little too late. But she was tired, so very tired, said “Yes, that’ll be nice”, let him tinker on with the kettle and tea bags, and listened to the droning of water boiling, the metal clink of the spoon.

“I’ll have one with you when I get back.” He passed her a steaming mug of strong tea. “I’ll not be long.” He paused in the doorway, “I think it’ll be better if the girls stay home here tonight. Don’t you? Just have a quiet evening. I’ll give my parents a quick ring from the car and explain.”

“Oh God, sorry, yes. It’s messed up everyone’s plans, hasn’t it?”

“No, it’s alright. They’ll understand. As long as you and Lottie are fine, that’s all they’ll be concerned about. And if Lottie has some kind of bug, Mum has to be careful anyhow. It’s still a couple of days before she goes in to hospital. We’ll see how Lottie goes. We might be able to nip across another evening instead.”

“Yes, the girls were looking forward to it.” Tea with Granny Dorothy and Grandad George was always a treat.
And they were looking forward to spending time with you, Kate mused.
She looked up at him.
They miss you, was left unsaid.

“Don’t worry, I’ll sort something out, switch things round a bit. And I can stay a little while this evening, if you like. Help with the girls here for a bit. I don’t have to rush back.”

Back to Sophie. The other woman. The one he had made his new home with, while this one was left in pieces.

“Okay,” was all she could reply. Kate took a sip of her tea, watched him get up to leave, listened to the thrum of his car starting up. She sat in the emptiness of the kitchen, once the hub of their family life, and waited for him to come home.

Kate’s gaunt face haunted him as he drove away. Charlotte would be fine. She was young, would bounce back. He pictured his daughter’s perfect features, eyes closed, lips just parted as she breathed gently in sleep. He’d wanted to brush the lock of hair that had fallen across her eyes away with a gentle fingertip, but refrained, not wanting to wake her. But Kate, her pale, thin cheeks a stark contrast to their daughter’s, sat there at the kitchen table. Kate seemed far more damaged by this somehow. He turned out of their road end towards the town. And he feared it wasn’t really the accident at all, her pain, her troubles,
it was down to him
.
If it had been someone else who had done it to her, he’d
want to beat the bastard up.

He had to face that knowledge. What he had done. Haunted by the image of her, her blonde hair lank, unwashed. Her eyes, their hazel green, tainted by sadness. Dull shadows smudged beneath them in heavy circles. Yet, she still looked pretty. The girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago was still there beneath the sorrow. A lump lodged in his throat.

He collected Emily, made brief small talk, reassuring Mel that both Kate and Charlotte were fine, and as he spoke he knew he was lying about Kate. She wasn’t fine at all.

“Right, well I’d better go. Thanks a lot for looking after Em, much appreciated.”

“Tell Kate I’ll give her a ring tomorrow, see how she is.”

“Okay, I will. Thanks again.”

He scooped Emily’s hand into his, walked quickly to the car, couldn’t wait to get back home.

Charlotte stirred on the other end of the sofa, “Mummy?” Her tone had a small cry to it, that hadn’t been there since she was tiny.

“I’m here sweetie. It’s all okay. You’re home. You’ve just been asleep.” Kate had been sitting in the lounge watching her for a while.

“Charlotte,” Michael had got back just a few minutes before with Emily. Though they’d tried to be quiet, maybe the door and their footsteps and whispers had woken her. “I’m here too, Lottie.”

“Daddy?” she sat upright, smiling, pushing the blanket off that Kate had placed over her, to go and clamber up on his lap.

She snuggled in to him and he stroked her forehead. They sat together, not needing to speak. Emily climbed up with them, too, “You okay, Lottie?” she whispered. Her sister just nodded. Michael looked across at Kate, there on the opposite sofa. He held her gaze.

Kate saw two small girls snuggled up protectively within the arms of their father. She wished she could just walk across, sit down on that sofa and snuggle up there too. If only life were that simple.

They stayed a while like that, and as he sat there holding his daughters to him, quietly gazing across at his wife, he realised he loved her still, had never really fallen out of love with her. He’d just managed to fall in love with someone else as well. What the bollocks had he been thinking? Christ, he shouldn’t have let himself. He should have kept his distance. Just left it as a crazy fantasy. He was a married man, for God’s sake. But it had been so damned powerful, overwhelming.

He wished now that he had stopped it all back then, before it had gone too far.

Remembering the latest picture that Emily had brought him, just a few days ago, his throat ached with emotion. Daddy and Sophie were on one side of the painting, Mummy, Emily and Lottie on the other. Though it was clearly his choice, his actions that had led to this, seeing it etched out on paper by his little girl cut him up.

“I’ll go run a bath for you two.” His throat was tight as he spoke, “Be good for Mummy a minute, okay?” He shifted them gently off his lap to the sofa.

“Okay.” “Kay” they chorused.

And he ran a bath, got them washed, dressed in their pyjamas and tucked up into bed. Kate came up, still seemingly in a daze, to kiss the girls goodnight. Michael stayed some time in their room reading from their favourite,
The Gruffalo
. It wasn’t long before the two of them fell asleep.

He ought to go. He’d phoned his parents on the way to Mel’s, but he hadn’t let Sophie know what was going on yet; though he wasn’t really late, she’d be thinking he was still with Dorothy and George. But he ought to let her know what had happened, get back there soon.

As he came downstairs, he saw that Kate had fallen asleep on the sofa, one of the girls’ old comfort rugs draped over her. He stood and watched her for a second or two, looking peaceful now, and his heart ached. He let himself out.

In her half-sleep she registered the front door closing. Knew the girls must be alright, all settled now. So, he had gone again. For a second she felt bereft and it struck her as strange. Him going was nothing new any more, after all. She dozed once more, exhausted.

It didn’t seem long before there was the sound of footsteps through the hall, in the kitchen. She sat up, anxious. Who’d got in? The clattering of plates, the hum of the fan oven. Surely a burglar wouldn’t cook a meal? Curious now, she wandered through. There was Michael looking at home in the kitchen, setting out plates, knives and forks. The smell of Chinese takeaway filled the room. Through the square of the glass door she could see silver-foil boxes lined up neatly in the oven.

“Oh, hi,” he turned with a smile, “I thought you might want something to eat. Saw you were still sleeping, thought I’d keep it warm. Sorry if I disturbed you.”

She didn’t know what to make of it. It seemed so normal and yet so absurd. He was behaving as if he still lived here.

“Kate, I’m sorry.” Those words again, the ones that were never enough.

He looked across at her, the woman he had hurt so badly, who hadn’t deserved all this.

She gazed back, stood still, the old affection between them momentarily crushing away her hurt. She knew he was apologising for more than today; this wasn’t just about the accident. She understood that look, the depth of feeling there. She just nodded, sadly. “Sorry” was an easy word to say, but it couldn’t put right all the pain of the past few months. She’d spent weeks and weeks in the darkest of places, where he had never been, he couldn’t begin to comprehend, and she hoped he never would have to. “Sorry” didn’t change the fact that he’d still leave in an hour or so and go back to Sophie.

But she didn’t want to argue, or to tell him that “sorry” was never going to be enough. She was too tired for all that. She sat down at the pine table. Her words polite, yet setting the distance, “Maybe I’ll have something to eat in a while. Thanks, that was thoughtful of you.”

After a supper of sweet-and-sour chicken (he’d remembered her favourite), she had managed half of her plateful, they sat with a cup of coffee, just a few inches apart on the sofa where Lottie had slept earlier. She could feel the warmth of him, even though they weren’t touching.

He sighed. “I’ve really fucked up, haven’t I? God, I’m so sorry, Kate. I never meant to hurt you like I have.”

She froze next to him, wondering where this was going. All the nights she’d dreamed of this, some torn confession and then Michael declaring his love for her,
only her
. But now the words of apology seemed distant, mocking. She’d had enough to deal with today, was unsure about where this might lead.

But then it seemed easy. His arms were around her. She’d wanted this for so very long. Comfort. Familiarity. His smell, his touch, the warmth of his body against hers again, the taste of him on her tongue. He was kissing her passionately, turning into the kind of kiss that might lead to the bedroom. The kind she’d not experienced in a long while. Their lips locked, taking her back to their sweet beginnings, into the depths of intimacy of their middle times… but they were here at the end. Something sparked in her mind.

She snapped back, pulling away. She was never going to let him close enough to hurt her any more. “What the
hell
do you think you’re doing?
How dare you?
How
dare
you think you can waltz back into my life and kiss me like that?”

Michael looked stunned.

“What? Are you a bit bored?” she growled, “Not working out with the mistress quite how you thought?”

“No, no, it’s not like that.” His tone was apologetic.

“Not like what? Don’t you
know
how badly you’ve hurt me… the girls? When every night for weeks and weeks I wished you were still here. It hurt so much… I had to learn to let you go.”

“I’m sorry, Kate. But I really wasn’t playing about just then. It… it just seemed natural. Like you wanted it, too.” He floundered.

She stared at him. She had. She had wanted it, but for it to be like before, what they once had. But it had all changed so much; anything now was just a stupid pipe dream. One kiss was never going to put things right.

“And how do I ever trust you again? What if we did make love… no, those aren’t the right words to use any more, have sex, not that I have any intention of doing so, so don’t flatter yourself. How do I know you’ll not walk straight back out again, back to Sophie, realise I’m not such a good shag as her?”