She stops as her voice begins to break, and leans over for a tissue.
‘But on the weekends,’ she says, her voice quieter than before, ‘when my kids are with him, and I’m in my house without them, I have no idea who I’m supposed to be. If I’m not someone’s wife, someone’s mother, who the hell am I? He’s spreading stories about me having an affair, which isn’t true, and I’ve been cut dead by some of the women in school, which shouldn’t bother me because it’s not like I liked these women anyway, but it does. And I honestly have no idea if I can make it on my own. I’m relieved, and scared, and overwhelmed, and I needed to talk to others who understand.’
‘Well done,’ Sally says gently. ‘You sound like a woman of tremendous courage.’
The introductions and personal stories take up the entire hour. Gabby still feels, as she so often does, like
a fish out of water, and rather than mill around afterwards, talking to strangers, she heads for the door, hoping to make it to the car park without getting caught.
But she is caught. By Josephine.
‘Do you want to grab some tea?’ she asks.
Gabby is about to decline and make her excuses, but this fresh-faced woman looks exactly like someone Gabby would be friends with, and instead she finds herself saying yes.
‘The thing is …’ Josephine stops to tear open a packet of sugar and tip it into her tea, stirring it with a plastic spoon. ‘It isn’t the same when you’ve left your husband. It just isn’t the same as having them walk out on you. Those women seem … I don’t know. I’m sure they’re nice, but the only one I felt I had anything in common with is you.’
‘Do you think that matters, though?’ Gabby can’t help but feel flattered. ‘Do we have to like each other? Obviously it’s nicer for everyone if we do, but I don’t know that it’s essential.’
‘All I know is that if you hadn’t been there I’m not sure I’d be coming back. It just seemed that so many of those other women were angry. I’m not angry. I’m relieved. And terrified.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Gabby says. ‘I still wake up every morning thinking this is a bad dream.’
‘So what
was
your mistake? How did you screw it up?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Gabby gestures to her stomach.
‘You had an affair?’
‘I’m not even sure you could call it that. An emotional affair, perhaps. I had a … friendship. Probably one just like yours. Lots of flirtatious emails, lots of banter. It made me feel beautiful again. And alive. We slept together once, but once is all you need, it seems. I thought I was going through the menopause and pregnancy was the last thing I’d have to worry about.’
‘I know this sounds deceitful, but didn’t you think about telling your husband it was his? If it was just once, couldn’t you have just, I don’t know, put it behind you and moved on?’
‘I could have done. If my husband hadn’t had a vasectomy last year.’
Josephine claps her hands over her mouth. ‘Oh shit!’
‘Exactly.’ Even Gabby smiles at the irony. ‘Oh shit indeed.’
‘Okay,’ Josephine says, leaning forward. ‘Seeing as we’re now at secret level, I will confess that my … friendship …’
‘You’re sleeping with him,’ Gabby says matter-of-factly.
Josephine’s face falls. ‘How do you know?’
‘I didn’t know for sure, but it seemed likely. Only because you left your husband. I don’t know that women ever leave their husbands unless there’s someone else. Actually, I don’t think you necessarily have to be sleeping with them, but you have to be emotionally
attached to someone other than your husband. A close friendship with an unspoken attraction, maybe. An unfulfilled dream. Or, in my case, a flirtation with an inappropriate man and one night that screws everything up.’
‘You realize you just got hugely unlucky, don’t you?’ Josephine says. ‘If you hadn’t got pregnant, you could have got away with it.’
Gabby gives a deep sigh. ‘That’s the thing I can’t believe. It still would have been wrong, and I would have had to live with the fact that I had betrayed my husband. And honestly? I don’t know that I would have been able to do it, but at least he would still be my husband. At least the man I love, the only man I have ever loved, would still be by my side.’ She looks at Josephine. ‘Enough about me. Did you sleep with your friend before or after leaving your husband?’
‘After!’ Josephine looks shocked. ‘I could never sleep with another man then climb into bed with my husband! Oh Lord.’ She realizes who she’s talking to. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not judging you. It’s just a personal thing …’
‘Oh trust me, I’m not offended. I never thought that either – I never thought
I
could sleep with another man then climb into bed with my husband. Amazing the things you end up doing during your mid-life crisis. Are you going to run off into the sunset with this other man and live happily ever after?’
Sadness crosses Josephine’s face. ‘That’s the thing. It’s complicated. He was incredible when I was sharing
my unhappiness with him, and then immediately after I left, when things became physical, I presumed we’d be together. I told everyone else I was leaving Chris because I was so unhappy and because I’d had enough, and, even though that was true, I knew deep down I wouldn’t be leaving if James wasn’t waiting in the wings.’
‘And?’
‘Now James isn’t sure we should get involved. Not seriously. He says he loves me but he’s worried he’s the rebound guy, and I need to heal before he can get involved with me.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think it’s bullshit. I think this is one of the things men say when they’re trying to let you down gently. It’s like that whole “it’s not me, it’s you” thing. I’m on this goddamned roller coaster where I have no idea what’s going on. When he calls and says he’s coming over I’m flying high as a kite, then when he doesn’t respond to a text, or disappears for two days, I sink into the depths of depression and all I can do is lie in bed and cry. You probably think I’m crazy.’
Gabby smiles. ‘I do. But only because I’ve experienced all kinds of crazy myself. That was me with the guy who got me pregnant. A roller coaster. I was obsessed with him, to the exclusion of everything that was important in my life. My husband, my kids. All I thought about was him. I had no idea how crazy, and
how unhealthy, it was. Nor did I have any idea how it would screw up my life.’
‘Do you think this is crazy and unhealthy?’ Josephine’s voice is a fearful whisper.
‘What do you think?’ Gabby asks gently.
‘I think it’s crazy and unhealthy.’ She grimaces as she says the words. ‘I know it is. But I can’t help it. I feel like I’ve jumped into the ocean and he’s the only lifeline I have.’
‘He can’t be a lifeline when he’s drifting away from you,’ says Gabby. ‘Look. I’m not saying you were wrong to leave your husband. Clearly you were terribly unhappy, and he sounds like a dreadfully abusive and difficult man. You needed to leave, and this man – James?’ Josephine nods. ‘James saved your life. You should always be grateful to him for getting you out of the marriage, but the ones that get you out are never the ones you end up with.’
‘You don’t think so?’
‘I think it can happen but it’s rare. He had a specific role in your life: to get you over the fear enough for you to leave your husband. Of course it’s scary. Trust me, I know how terrifying it is to face the prospect of life on your own when you’ve had a partner for so many years, but you have to face those fears. You can’t immediately look to another man to rescue you. That will bring you nothing but pain.’
‘I know you’re right,’ Josephine says. ‘It’s still pretty
shitty to hear. It’s a shame you’re pregnant – I could do with a glass of wine just about now.’
‘It’s the middle of the afternoon!’ Gabby laughs. ‘A bit early, isn’t it?’
‘Never too early for a glass of wine when you’re going through a divorce!’ Josephine laughs too, lifting her mug of tea. ‘Cheers. I’m glad I met you, and I’m glad I came today. I didn’t expect this, but I feel a little bit better already.’
Gabby opens the front door, immediately seeing Olivia’s Uggs, kicked off in the hallway in just the way that always drives her nuts. Usually she would shout up the stairs, demanding Olivia come down and put her boots away in the cubby, where they belong, but the very fact that Olivia is here is so thrilling that she doesn’t want to do anything to destroy whatever peace she may have brought with her.
Should she go upstairs and knock on Olivia’s door? Should she bring tea? Olivia has refused to speak to Gabby for weeks, and Gabby wants to make this easy, doesn’t want to do anything to further stir up the situation.
Things are not easy, apparently, at Tim and Claire’s house. The house really isn’t big enough for two extra bodies, and nerves are starting to fray. Elliott is on the sofa bed in the TV room, which is fine during the week, but disastrous at the weekends. Elliott likes to sleep in then, but Tim and Claire’s kids like to tumble down
stairs at the crack of dawn, to flop on the sofa in the TV room and watch the Disney Channel for hours, until someone remembers to scream at them to turn the damned thing off.
Olivia is sleeping on a camp bed in Jolie’s room, but Jolie’s room is only big enough for one bed, one camp bed, one nightstand and one dresser. This means that Olivia’s stuff – and teenage girls have a tremendous amount of stuff – is spilling out over everything, which is starting to drive Jolie nuts.
This is all according to Alanna, who sleeps on a blow-up bed in the playroom. She insists on sleeping over at Tim and Claire’s because she misses her father so much and wants to spend as much time with him as possible, even though the family are out of beds and the house is clearly overcrowded.
The whole thing sounds like a nightmare. Olivia, Gabby is told, desperately misses her bedroom at home, her things, but she is refusing to set foot in the house, blaming her mother for ruining her life.
Gabby tiptoes into the kitchen and makes tea. Being English, she has raised her children in the tradition of tea. Not fancy, herbal, gourmet tea, and nothing that blooms like a flower or comes in a triangular gauze tea bag, but proper builder’s tea. Strong, sweet, milky. The kind of tea that can lift you out of a depression, warm you to your bones, chase the blues right out of the door.
There is nothing as comforting as a proper cup of
tea and when Olivia’s favourite mug is full to the brim with it, Gabby carries it up the stairs, with a chocolate-wrapped marshmallow. She raps lightly on the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘It’s me. Mum. Can I come in?’
There is a silence.
‘I brought you tea.’
A rustling, then the door is open, and Olivia, trying so hard to retain her expression of disdain, looks at her mother before bursting into tears.
‘It’s okay,’ croons Gabby, cradling her daughter’s head as they sit on her bed. ‘Ssssh. It’s okay.’
‘I hate it there,’ Olivia cries. ‘I hate not being at home, and sleeping on that shitty bed, and not having any of my stuff.’
‘So come home,’ Gabby says. ‘Come home right now. It’s easy.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Why not?’
Olivia raises her head to look at her mother, her dark eyebrows coming together in a frown. ‘Because that would be betraying Dad.’
‘How would that betray Dad?’
‘Because that would mean I choose you, and I can’t do that to him. He’s already hurting so much, and I’m the only one looking after him. I can’t leave him too.’ Olivia’s big brown eyes are now smudged with mascara,
making them look even bigger, giving her a youthfulness she had almost grown out of.
‘Oh, sweetie.’ Gabby takes her hand, noticing the chipped blue nail polish, resolving not to point it out. ‘It’s not your job to look after Dad. I know you want to, and I know you feel responsible for him, but you’re seventeen. The only person responsible for looking after Dad is Dad.’
‘And you,’ Olivia spits. ‘It should have been you.’
Gabby sighs. Olivia really isn’t a child any more, and there doesn’t seem any point in protecting her. Gabby senses that if there is to be any hope at all of rebuilding her relationship with Olivia she needs to be honest with her. However much that might hurt, and however wrong it may feel to tell your child the truth, a truth that paints you in a terrible light, it has to be done.
‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘It was my job to look after your dad, and I spent many years doing that. I would like to be doing that still but I screwed up. I was feeling old, and unattractive, and that my life was slipping away from me. A man came along, someone younger, who told me I was beautiful, who made me feel young again. I swear to you, Olivia, I never meant for anything to happen, but something did, just once, and as soon as it was over I knew I’d made a terrible mistake, and that it would never happen again. Except I’d become pregnant. And now I have ruined not only my life, but Dad’s, and yours and Alanna’s. I will never be able to apologize enough, and I will never be able to make you
understand how ashamed I am. But I will have to live with my mistake for the rest of my life. As we all will, and we have to find a way to forgive and move on, because, Olivia, you are still my daughter. My firstborn. And I love you today as much as I did the day you emerged from my body. Do you understand that, Olivia?
Can
you understand that?’
Olivia, staring silently at the floor, reluctantly nods.
Gabby had no idea how hard it is to be a single mother. She remembers looking around at women she knew, newly separated or divorced, not understanding why they kept complaining.
Now she understands. There is no Elliott to take out the trash, or deal with the bills, or phone whoever you’re supposed to phone when the sump pump isn’t working and the mud-room floor is now one large and growing puddle.
There is no Elliott to help the girls with school assignments, to break up a fight, to get up at the crack of dawn, leaving her to sleep in, because one of the girls has to be in New Haven by eight. There is no one for her to talk to about her growing concerns regarding Alanna’s unhappiness in middle school; no partner to sit by her side as they try to figure out what is wrong with their daughter, and what to do about it.
There is no one, in short, to take the flack, to ease the burden, to give Gabby a break.
In the beginning she hated the weekends when both the girls were staying with Elliott. Gabby had no idea what to do with herself during those endless days, often staying in bed for most of the time, counting the hours
until she could go to Claire and Tim’s house and bring Alanna back. Once home Alanna would bring not only the house but also Gabby back to life again.
Much has changed since those early days. Both girls now live at home and the house is once more filled with their laughter and shouting and messiness and energy. And Elliott, thanks to a long-overdue pay rise, finally moved out of Claire and Tim’s house and rented a small house off Greens Farms Road, a Cape style, with three bedrooms and one bathroom.
He came back to Gabby’s house a couple of times to pick up his things and some furniture he needed. The bed from the guest room, the sofa from the family room, a couple of tables. It wasn’t much, yet the house feels strangely empty. The only consolation is that, for the moment at least, Elliott is no longer talking about putting the house on the market, and Gabby is grateful for that. But, nevertheless, since the furniture went she has not been able to go into the family room, with its two beanbags and coffee table and the large space where the sofa once was.
The house feels emptiest, of course, when the girls are with their father. But Gabby now counts off the days until the girls go to Elliott’s. No fighting. No getting up long before her body’s natural wake-up time. No meals to worry about, no chauffeuring back and forth to friends’ houses or sports events.
She has come to treasure the weekends she is on her own. She now welcomes the peace, the solitude, the
quiet. She welcomes padding down to the kitchen in the morning, at whatever time she wakes up, making herself coffee and sitting in the easy chair by the window, with the papers, or a book.
She has started painting again. She sits on a stool because her poor legs and feet are swollen and she cannot handle standing for the long hours necessary for the work she is doing. She has no models, but has files of pictures of pregnant women, and is painting a vast canvas of burgeoning bellies, glowing faces.
The heartache and discord that marked the beginning of this pregnancy have given way to a beauteous glow, a constant marvelling at the miracle of life, an appreciation of what a blessing it is to be lucky enough to have a child at her age.
Even if it isn’t Elliott’s child.
Gabby feels nothing but relief to have reached this stage in her pregnancy. The minute she saw the tiny black and white body on the sonographer’s screen, that very first time, her bonding began. But then for a long time afterwards, once she realized Elliott was not prepared to accept the baby, once she knew she’d destroyed their life together, she was so scared she wouldn’t feel connected to this child again, so scared she wouldn’t feel maternal. For many terrible weeks she felt she didn’t want the child that had changed her life so irreparably.
She did all the right things: the scans, the genetic counselling, but reluctantly; she didn’t want a baby this
way, and wished desperately that she could turn back the clock.
But now she takes her pre-natal vitamins eagerly, turns up to her doctor’s appointments, does the blood work, gives the urine samples. She smiles when strangers stop her and ask her when she’s due, congratulate her, tell her, with great conviction, that they can tell it is a girl. Or a boy.
And they have never been wrong.
When the alarm on her iPhone goes off at three p.m., Gabby is fast asleep. In fact she sleeps away most of the days of this pregnancy. But she is determined to be fully awake when Alanna comes home. She is convinced that Alanna’s veering off into unknown territory is because of her own lack of presence. She is certain that part of the reason Alanna’s unhappiness in middle school is continuing into her second year is that Gabby has not been there for her, being too caught up first with her infatuation with Matt and now with her separation.
Poor Alanna. Her new friends continue to come, and go; none of them lasts. Each week there is another ‘new best friend’, another girl with long, straightened hair – straightened! At the age of twelve! – wearing designer clothes, giving nonchalant shrugs and making no eye contact. Gabby didn’t approve of the last crowd of popular girls, the ones at elementary school, but they were, at least, known to her, and she knew their mothers. When Alanna overheard one girl saying, ‘You
wouldn’t believe the shit I had to put up with when I was best friends with Alanna,’ Gabby knew she could phone the mother and that the mother would hear.
These new girls have mothers as terrifyingly blasé and disconnected as the girls themselves. Alanna needs her mother more than ever. So Gabby forces herself out of bed, blinking until she starts to swim back into consciousness, then goes downstairs to heat up scones she had made earlier. Alanna’s favourite.
The back door slams, followed by the sound of footsteps going upstairs.
‘Alanna? I have scones!’ Gabby shouts up the stairs, sighing at the lack of response. Then the phone starts to ring.
‘This is Lisa Cooperville, Principal of Springs Middle School.’
Gabby freezes, forcing her voice to sound normal. ‘Yes?’ She can’t hide her hesitancy, even with the politeness that follows. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine, and I’m sorry to call with this news, but there has been an incident at school involving your daughter Alanna, and we would like you to come in as soon as possible.’
‘What kind of incident?’
‘Alanna has been involved in a bullying incident. As you know, we have a zero-tolerance policy, and we need to gather all the parents involved to let you know the procedures for the next step.’
Oh God. That explains so much. Alanna has been
bullied. Sweet, loving Alanna has been a target for those vicious bitches. No wonder she has been so quiet of late; no wonder she is withdrawn.
‘I had no idea,’ Gabby whispers. ‘My poor baby. Do you know what happened? She hasn’t said anything but she’s been so quiet. It never occurred to me she was being bullied.’
There is an awkward silence.
‘Your daughter is the protagonist, Mrs Cartwright. She tackled Josh Gordon to the ground, with the help of three of the other girls, then Alanna cut off his hair. She is the bully. I know this may not be easy for you to hear, but there were numerous witnesses, and the boy, Josh, is extremely upset.’
Gabby gasps, but has no words. There is nothing she can say; her mind is a jumble of thoughts and feelings – denial, defensiveness, acceptance – all mixed up together.
‘When shall I come in?’ Her voice is a whisper.
‘We would like you and your husband to come in tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Alanna and the three other girls are on suspension until we decide how to progress, so she will be at home tomorrow. I will make sure her teachers send you the work so she doesn’t miss out.’
Gabby and Elliott sit outside the principal’s office, Gabby occasionally letting out a deep sigh, Elliott pretending to be engrossed in vital emails on his iPhone.
‘Why do you think she did it?’ Gabby asks again. ‘Do you really think there hasn’t been some kind of mistake?’
‘She said there were witnesses.’ Elliott keeps his voice low, aware of the hustle and bustle of people passing them in the corridor, all looking at them curiously, doubtless already having heard the story, wanting to see the terrible creatures that spawned the girl that committed the terrible act. ‘I have no idea why she did it. She was with you last night. What did she say?’
‘I already told you. She screamed at me, telling me I didn’t understand anything and that she hates me. She refused to even talk about it. I still have no idea.’
The door to the principal’s office opens, and Gabby and Elliott look up at the same time to see the parents of one of Alanna’s new ‘friends’, both grave-faced. Gabby has met the mother once – she was frosty and disinclined to make small talk – and their unwanted link today brings them no closer together. The mother deliberately avoids looking at them, although Gabby knows there is also a distinct possibility that the mother, who didn’t openly acknowledge her when they did meet, has no idea who she is.
The principal walks them to the end of the corridor, nodding an acknowledgement at Gabby and Elliott but not officially greeting them until the other parents have gone.
Another couple come to sit on the bench opposite Gabby and Elliott, with their son. Gabby has not met
Josh Gordon, but this must, surely, be him, with his new buzz cut. She knows of him, though, for the last time Alanna had these girls over, they spent the time prank-calling a boy called Josh, a boy she overheard them describing disdainfully as ‘so gay’.
Gabby is mortified, remembering that. Would her daughter, whom she has raised to be accepting of all, truly do this to a child just because he is slight and effeminate, unlike the other boys?
She is grateful she does not know the family, that they don’t know her. The principal ushers them in, without mentioning their names, and Gabby attempts to ignore the couple’s searching looks as it dawns on them who they might be.
‘This is enormously distressing to all concerned, as you can imagine,’ Mrs Cooperville says. ‘Josh has been the target of some mean behaviour already this year. He is a sensitive and sweet child, but those are not qualities that necessarily serve you well in middle school. Your daughter, and others, physically pinned him down while Alanna cut off his hair. We gather it was a dare, and I understand some of the unique pressures involved in middle school, particularly for girls who are struggling to fit in, but on no level is this behaviour acceptable. I have spoken to the Board of Education, and we believe that after a period of suspension Alanna must be transferred to one of the other middle schools, Highvale.’ Her face suddenly softens. ‘I know Alanna,’ she says. ‘And I don’t believe she’s a bad kid. Unfortunately she’s
got in with a crowd here that is … challenging. I don’t believe she would ever have entertained doing anything like this had she not felt pressure. I understand from two of the girls involved that they threatened to turn the entire grade against her if she didn’t do it.’
‘So why are you punishing her?’ Gabby blurts out. ‘She was being bullied herself.’
‘I appreciate that, but they are all culpable. Each one is being punished. You have to understand that while Alanna may have felt she had no other option when she picked up those scissors, in fact she did have a choice. And it’s terrible for everyone that she made the wrong one. But she has to take the consequences for making that wrong choice.’
‘But it’s not right that our daughter was bullied into doing something she clearly didn’t want to do, and is now being forced to change schools. What’s happening to the other girls? Are they being punished in the same way?’
Gabby has never been more grateful that Elliott is by her side. She has been feeling increasingly worn down by the single-parent role but at least, for this, Elliott has been able to step up and be the co-parent with her, to ease some of the burden.
She is bordering on hysteria, but Elliott seems calm. She knows it is not the case, for his jaw is clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching, but the way he appears in control of his feelings has always had the effect of calming her down.
The other girls are having the same punishment, they are told, and will also have to change schools, though they will not be attending the same one as Alanna. No distinction is being made. This shouldn’t help, even though it does.
But what are they supposed to do with Alanna?
‘How dare you!’ The built-up stress flies out in a rage when they get home. Elliott stands in the doorway as Gabby screams for Alanna to come down from her room. ‘What the hell were you thinking? What kind of monster did I raise for you to be able to do that? How dare you? Who do you think you are?’
‘Gabby. Stop.’ Elliott lays a hand on her arm, jolting her out of her fury slightly.
‘You’re going to apologize,’ she spits. ‘I’m disgusted. You’re going to apologize to him, and to his parents. How could you? How could any child of mine do this?’ Gabby is so appalled she is breaking into sobs as she shouts.
Alanna is already crying. ‘Sophie said I could be part of the Populars if I did it,’ she howls. ‘If I didn’t she said she’d make everyone in seventh grade hate me. I didn’t want to do it. I knew it was mean, but I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want everyone else to hate me.’ Her voice turns into a wail as she collapses on the stairs, and Gabby instantly switches from fury to remorse.
‘Oh, darling,’ she says, gathering Alanna in her arms.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say all the things I said and I love you so much. I’m just so upset. And I don’t understand. I don’t know what we’re going to do, how we’re going to manage school.’ She looks up then, her eyes filled with tears, knowing that Elliott will say something like, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get through it together,’ or ‘We’re a family and we love each other, and we’ll find a way.’ But he doesn’t. He merely looks at the floor.