Authors: Barbara Copperthwaite
I really need a cuddle and
my stupid husband is miles away, working hard and earning a crust so he can
keep me in tissues – and believe me, I’m getting through them at a rate of
knots. Well, actually, I’ve used up all the tissues I’ve bought and have moved
on to loo roll. Let’s hope I either get better soon or Daryl comes home because
I don’t even want to think about what will happen if I run out of that…
The problem with lying on
the sofa, mad with lack of sleep, is that my mind has free reign to dwell on
things without distraction (I don’t count constant reruns on telly of CSI and
Time Team as a distraction). As I
lie
here, waiting
and hoping for Daryl’s return, I realised that my whole life is spent waiting,
waiting, waiting. It’s on hold. I put off doing anything because I always think
it’ll be nicer to do it with Daryl than do it alone – and then we never get
round to it. I don’t even get to cook for him and look after him; we live on
takeaways when he’s around because although I do want to look after him, I
don’t want to waste our precious time together messing around in the kitchen.
Oh the guilt. I’m a bad
wife.
I really, really miss Daryl.
I just want him here, making everything okay. Just hearing his voice would be
good but he doesn’t like to call when abroad because of the cost.
Bored, bored,
bored
. Ooh, phone’s ringing!
It was Mum checking up on
me. She said: ‘I wish I didn’t live so far away so I could pop over to look
after you. But then again I know all you want is Daryl back; you’ll feel better
once he’s around again, and so will I.’
She’s a big fan of his,
especially since I told her about his childhood. I think she wants to be his
replacement mum.
I’ve just ricked something
in my neck while sneezing. Going to try to sleep now…
Monday 10
Amy and Hannah came over
after work today to check on the sickie. When I got Amy’s text I managed to
galvanise myself to pick up the tissues strewn all over the floor, which were
almost ankle-deep round the sofa and bed, so I must be feeling a bit better.
Even yesterday I couldn’t have contemplated that level of movement.
I was looking forward to the
visit, bored of my own company, with nothing to think of but mucus. But the
minute I saw their faces I knew something was up. I felt like I was standing in
front of a firing squad, waiting for them to speak. They managed a minute or so
of nervous small-talk about how they’d brought some magazines over to keep me
occupied, and as Amy handed them to me I noticed her give Hannah the tiniest
nudge with her elbow.
‘
Erm
,
look I know you’ve been thinking something’s wrong for a while,’ Hannah said.
When she gets nervous she really talks with her hands. They were suddenly very
busy. ‘Well, the thing is…you’re right!’
Definitely nervous – she
said this last bit inappropriately brightly, like a magician’s assistant saying
‘ta-da’, her voice going right up. She seemed to realise and cleared her throat
before carrying on. ‘Thing is we didn’t go to Salzburg, and we are being funny
with you, for a reason.
Because we hate Daryl.’
I blinked. I took a deep
breath in, heart thumping as I tried to comprehend, and then
huffed
the air out.
And smiled.
‘This is a joke, right?’ I
looked from one to the other and back again, still smiling. They weren’t
laughing. No surprise there, it wasn’t a funny joke.
Hannah glanced at Amy for
reassurance, then looked me right in the eye and carried on, her hands in full
flow. ‘A few months back, back in January, we popped round to see if you
fancied going shopping with us. He made us feel really uncomfortable.’
‘Really
uncomfortable?’
I repeated slowly. My heart was banging
against my chest now, like I’d run a marathon, and I felt so shaky from the
cold or the adrenaline, I’m not sure, that I sank down onto the sofa.
All kinds of things were
running through my mind, wondering what the hell he’d said or done. Perhaps
he’d got bored of me and decided to try it on with them. I mean, he’d said the
other day, and I quote, ‘That Kim is a bit of all right. I would.’ Perhaps it
wasn’t just her that ‘he
would’,
perhaps it was all my
friends. Suddenly I felt a bit sick.
‘Tell me exactly what
happened.’ I hadn’t meant to whisper but that was all the sound I seemed able
to muster.
‘We came over and asked for
you. Daryl invited us in, told us that you shouldn’t be too long because you’d
just nipped to the supermarket. He said we should wait for you, offered us a
cup of coffee…’ said Hannah. ‘Then, as we sat on the sofa, we got talking and
suddenly he…he gave me this look.’
A
look.
‘This,
this, this terrible look.
There was just a terrible
atmosphere. He gave this knowing sort of look, like he was thinking something
terrible, like he was capable of doing something terrible,’ she plunged on,
running her hands through her pixie crop. She used the word terrible a lot –
clearly her vocabulary is…terrible.
Amy agreed. ‘Honestly, I know
it sounds over the top, but you weren’t there. The atmosphere…’ she shuddered. I
was tempted to ask if it was terrible, but I couldn’t seem to speak or move, I
was locked in place as I listened to her continue. ‘I just wanted to get the
hell out of there as quickly as possible. He said we could wait for you but no
way was I going to. I was scared.’
That’s when the anger
exploded.
‘Scared?!
You were scared of…a look?
An indescribable yet “terrible” look?’
I shouted, ignoring
the razor blades that seemed to score at my swollen tonsils. ‘He made you feel
uncomfortable. Good grief, have you any idea how petty and ridiculous you sound.
What did you think he was going to do, leap on you and ravage you? Hold you
hostage? Slit your throat?’
‘You weren’t there,’ said Hannah.
‘No, but I’m here now,
hoping you can offer me something more than this. Christ, you’ve got in a moody
with me because I wasn’t in when you deigned to come and see me; that’s what’s
put your nose out of joint. If you were genuinely so scared you could have told
me
this crap weeks
ago but instead you’ve waited and
waited – and you know why?
Because it’s a nothing, a
nonsense.
You just always have to be in control of our friendship,
be
Little Miss Popularity bestowing your friendship on me.
Well I don’t want your friendship. Stuff you!’
I gave it to her with both
barrels. She stepped back from
me,
amazed that I’ve
finally stood up to her because we have never, ever had a row before as I
always just go along with what she wants, for an easier life.
Ever since school she has been the one in
charge, and she hasn’t been keen on Daryl from the start simply because he took
me away from her and she didn’t like the fact that someone else had more
influence over me than her. She’s not used to being challenged, was always so
popular at school; sporty, clever, the first to get picked on teams, while I
hung on to her coat tails a bit and was popular purely by association with her.
This was the first time I had ever challenged her, and she didn’t know what to
do. It was empowering to see her step back like that, stunned.
I could understand her
reaction though because I was pretty stunned
myself
. But
I just carried on, for once feeling strong and unafraid of confrontation – I
think it was my protective streak that gave me the strength; she was being so
unfair on Daryl and hadn’t even given him a chance to defend himself.
‘You just feel bad because
you know damn well how unreasonable you’ve been lately, and now, desperate for
any excuse, you’ve decided to blame Daryl,’ I ranted. ‘You come here and
announce you hate my husband because - ooh, scary - he looked at you.’
I’m quite proud of myself
because I spat the last bit out while doing a kind of jazz hands movement,
totally taking the pee. I was so furious it gave me the guts to be
sarky
. Even now, I’m so angry I’m almost shaking. All right,
so Daryl isn’t the easiest of people. Even I freely admit that he’s often a
tosser
when in company, seems to have this need to push
people’s buttons and act like a knob, but you just have to learn to ignore him.
He’s not scary!!!!
By the end of it, Hannah had
got all sniffy, as though somehow I was being unreasonable.
Silly
cow.
At least Amy had the courtesy to look mortified by the whole thing.
‘We didn’t mean to hurt you…’ she began, but I cut her off. They both should
have thought of that before they came to my house talking rubbish.
Tuesday 11
Still
annoyed about yesterday.
I’m not going to tell Daryl about it
though because he’d, fair enough, go absolutely mental. He’d be so hurt. Poor
bloke has little enough self-esteem as it is after all those years of being
bullied at school and undermined by his mum, without people laying into him
now. Tell you what though, if Hannah and Amy were terrified of one of his looks
I reckon they’d wet themselves if he went to see them to give them a piece of
his mind. The thought almost makes me tempted to tell him, but no, it’s not
fair on him. Shame though.
Anyway, the good news is,
the tonsils have come right down to normal size and I am starting to feel human
again. I don’t like to boast but I washed my hair this morning. I had to,
otherwise it might have walked off and washed itself, it was in such a state.
Afterwards I sat and read
the
mags
Amy and Hannah had brought round (at least
the visit was good for something). There was an article in it about ‘How to
spot if he’s having an affair’. Elusive behaviour, hard to pin down, irritable,
frequently unreachable on the phone… Should I be worried that Daryl ticks every
one? Well theoretically, yes. The thing is though…he’s always been the same. So
unless he has been having an affair for the last nine years, the entire time
we’ve been together, then I’m not too worried. Boy would he have to have an
understanding mistress!
We even joke about it sometimes
when, for example, he’ll mention having been to the cinema to see something and
he’ll think we’ve been together. ‘No, that was with your other woman,’ I’ll
laugh, and he cracks up too.
Or sometimes he forgets he’s
told me things and will either not have told me at all or told me 20 times and
he’ll snigger and say: ‘Ah no, I must have told the other woman, not you.’
I’ve even asked him before
if he is seeing someone else – not in an accusing way though because that would
just cause a row; in a jovial, funny way. He just gives me an exasperated but
sympathetic look and says: ‘How the hell could I have an affair? Even if I
wanted to I don’t have time for one. I can barely find the time to be with you
and I love you to bits.’ Sometimes he is such a sweetheart and knows just what
to say to make me feel better.
Can’t wait to see him
tomorrow.
Thursday 13
Daryl is home. These ten
days away have seemed so long, too long. When he climbed into bed beside me last
night it felt odd for a second. The bed seems so different with him, the duvet
too small to cover us both, the mattress tension firmer because it is stretched
further with the weight of two bodies instead of one, and he gives off so much
heat that I am roasting and have to poke a foot out from under the duvet to try
to sneakily cool down.
But then he throws his arm
around me and pulls me in to him, and somehow our bodies just fit together like
two pieces of a jigsaw. We know each so well that we automatically twist to one
another without any thought.
My leg over his, his leg over
mine, a knotty tangle that no one could undo.
Then my nose nuzzles into
his neck and I breathe in the oil, diesel, Lynx, Daryl smell and I smile to
myself like an idiot as happiness rushes through me, and suddenly everything
seems so right. Daryl is home and all is good with the world.
Saturday 15
I am so lucky to have a man
like Daryl.
Seriously.
I very nearly cocked us up
permanently today, and feel queasy every time I think about it. Bloody Hannah
and Amy, it’s all their fault.
I kept thinking about that
stupid magazine article. Unable to shake the paranoia gnawing at me, I sneaked
downstairs this morning and -
eurgh
, I’m ashamed to
write it down and have a permanent record – I sneaked a look through Daryl’s
phone.
How awful is that?! I kept
thinking about how he ticked virtually every single one of the criteria in the
feature, and had worked myself up into a real
tizz
.
Convinced myself that that was why Hannah had felt afraid of Daryl, too,
because he had given her one of his smouldering, lustful looks. They can be
pretty impressive, and they certainly take my breath away.
So I scrolled through all of
his messages. And I found absolutely nothing. The relief!
And
the guilt…
I burst into tears and went straight up to the bedroom, prodding
Daryl awake. He knew from the look on my face that something was wrong, I
think, because he looked worried as he propped himself up on a pillow.