The One That Got Away (30 page)

Dad rolls his eyes and then says ‘Aha!’ happily, as he spies his glasses on the table, picks them up and purposefully strides
back out again.

‘I
keep
using your
old
new phone number Molly, it’s
so annoying,’ Mum sighs. ‘I’d only just learnt it, and now I’ve got to un-learn it all over again.’

‘Sorry,’ I try to keep my voice relaxed, pretending to read a magazine. I don’t look at Dan. ‘I didn’t lose it on purpose.’

‘You’d think someone would have handed your phone in, wouldn’t you?’ Mum continues. ‘Especially seeing as you knew everyone
at that silly party. I still don’t understand why you had to change the number though.’

‘It’s an identity fraud protection thing,’ I say vaguely.

‘
Really
?’ Mum says, fascinated. ‘They can clone you just from having your phone? Well I think that’s horrid. It’s Christmas for goodness’
sake.’

‘What difference does that make?’ Chris looks up from biting off a piece of Sellotape that immediately doubles back and sticks
to his fingers.

‘Were you drunk?’ Mum frowns at me. ‘Is that why you lost it? That’s not very good for your ovaries you know.’

Yeah, because they’re at the top of my worry list. ‘No Mum,’ I reply shortly, shooting a nervous glance at Dan who is focusing
on leafing through a Christmas gifts catalogue. ‘I wasn’t drunk.’

‘It’s a harsh
slur
, Mum,’ Chris says lightly. ‘Get it?’

No one except me notices as Dan gets up and walks out of the room. Worriedly, I look down at my magazine again. Should I go
after him or leave him alone?

‘Chris,’ Karen interrupts, reaching out and taking the Sellotape from him as Dan abruptly stands up, ‘if you put
any more tape on that present Oscar’s going to need a hacksaw.’

‘And do NOT eat any of these while I get the cake from the garage,’ Mum points at Chris severely as she steps away from the
mince pies.

‘Every man’s dream,’ Chris muses. ‘Wife in one ear, mother in the other.’

‘You all right Moll?’ Karen remarks as she measures a piece of wrapping paper. ‘You’re quiet tonight.’

‘Just tired.’ I try to smile. Chris reaches out, grabs a mince pie and stuffs it whole into his mouth.

‘Probably knackered from all that baby-making you and Dan have been doing,’ Karen teases.

Chris gives her a look of dismay. ‘Do you mind?’ he says through a flurry of pastry crumbs. ‘That’s my sister. I don’t want
to hear about stuff like that.’

‘Them having sex you mean?’ Karen says innocently.

‘Seriously, stop it,’ Chris insists but she just laughs.

He needn’t worry. For two weeks now Dan has barely kissed me on the cheek, let alone anything else. To the outsider things
may appear normal, but behind closed doors … I sit next to Dan and I feel him shrink away. If I deliberately move closer,
even boldly put his arm round me, it just lies there lifelessly and after a moment or two he removes it. Last Sunday night,
the weekend before Christmas, when usually we would be out seeing friends, we stayed in because Dan didn’t want to see anyone.
I quietly wrapped some presents and he watched a couple of movies back to back, silently stretched out
on the sofa. During the last, I crept over and sat down next to him on the floor. That was as close as I got. The idea of
sex is laughable; we can’t even hold hands.

‘So have you got all of next week off Moll? When do you go back to work?’ Karen enquires as she starts to wrap a fairy wand
for Lily.

‘Um, not sure yet,’ I say, trying to sound light and upbeat, while wishing I could snatch the wand from her, wave it and make
everything magically OK. ‘Everything’s a bit up in the air at the moment.’

Chris, still chewing, frowns. ‘What do you mean?’

They both look at me curiously as Mum staggers back in carrying a vast Christmas cake which makes such a heavy thud when she
puts it down I almost expect it to go right through the table top. ‘Oh Chris!’ she scolds, looking at the pies. ‘I told you
not to—’

‘Mum, shut up!’ Chris instructs. ‘What are you talking about? How can your job be up in the air?’

‘I’ve left actually,’ I confess.

‘WHAT?’ they all exclaim in unison.

‘Well, technically I was made redundant.’

‘Mark!’ yells Mum.

‘Why haven’t you said anything?’ exclaims Chris.

Dad comes in, patiently clutching the crossword and a pen. ‘Did you know about this?’ Mum nods at me accusingly, like it’s
his fault.

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’ He crosses over to the sofa, sinks on to the arm and says calmly. ‘What’s the
drama, Molly Malone?’

‘There isn’t one,’ I mumble as they all wait for me to elaborate. I notice Dan has silently appeared in the doorway, hands
in pockets, and is looking at me intently. ‘They warned us it was probably going to have to happen and it did. I’ve taken
voluntary redundancy, I had some holiday owing too – so …’ I shrug and try to smile brightly.

‘But, you shouldn’t have taken voluntary, Moll,’ Karen says with concern. ‘You should have hung on. You’re trying to get pregnant
anyway, you could have gone straight on maternity leave and they couldn’t have made you redundant then.’

Oh Karen, leave it. Please.

‘Have you had the letter from them yet?’ she persists. ‘Until they’ve written to you and you’ve written back, it’s not legally
binding, you could change your mind. Have you?’ She looks at me anxiously.

‘It’s all done. I’ve left.’

I think back to my conversation with Antony.

‘So that’s it? You ring me up and tell me just like that you’re off?’ he’d said gruffly. ‘You’ll get bugger all money if you
resign, you do know that?’

‘You could have sacked me for what happened last night Antony. We both know
that
.’

He didn’t disagree.

‘Technically, it was on company time, in front of everyone. You can’t keep me on now and I wouldn’t expect you to, it’s not
fair.’

‘I don’t need to discuss what happened again,’ he said
brusquely. There was a pause and then he said, ‘You really don’t have to do this.’

I’d watched Dan walk past the door to the kitchen, shoulders slumped.

‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘I do.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Right then … Molly, I owe you an apology. I neglected to tell you that your notice period started on Monday,
when you told me you wanted to accept the offer of voluntary redundancy, which I’m sure you remember, I accepted.’

‘What?’ I said, completely confused.

He ploughed on. ‘Which with the holiday you’re owed means you can leave immediately and of course you’ll get your redundancy
pay.’

I finally realised what he was doing for me. ‘Thank you, Antony,’ I said quietly. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘You’ll be missed,’ he said sadly.

I didn’t see him when I returned everything back to the offices while Dan waited in the car park for me. I only had just enough
time to text Pearce as I walked along the corridor to the HR department – madness really but I HAD to say how sorry I was
for everything.

He texted me back immediately.

No – I owe you one! I have accepted redundancy too – finish after Christmas – and S dumped me! Sleeping with you was the best
thing I never did! Would say stay in
touch but … Hope everything works out the way you want it to. Take care mate xx

‘It’s all final – done and dusted,’ I insist and Karen sighs heavily. ‘I wish you’d have said, I could have got one of my
friends to help you out with some advice.’

‘That’s very sweet of you, but I could have asked Joss if there was any need. She’s very clued-up on that sort of thing.’

‘What’s she said about it then?’ Mum asks.

Nothing, I haven’t told her. She’d smell a rat. She was so great when I was worrying that Leo was going to turn up and blast
everything wide open, phoning to check I was OK, listening to me panicking, sharing my jubilance when he threw in the towel
… she deserves a break from me. She, like Bec, is completely loved up right now. In their own separate ways they each spend
so much time looking after other people they’ve earned the right to just enjoy having some fun without distractions. And what
could she do anyway? The only people that can fix this are Dan and me. No one else.

‘I just want to move on,’ I say truthfully to my family, briefly meeting Dan’s gaze before he looks away, ‘have a brand new
start. I’ll get another job. Who knows – maybe I’ll do something completely different!’

‘Everything happens for a reason,’ Mum smiles kindly.

Yeah, you have a one-night stand with your ex, then your doctor tells your husband at a party. That’s the reason,
Mum. If it weren’t for Dan, I’d have Dr Hubbard struck off.

‘Well, you’re being remarkably cool about it,’ Chris says. ‘Dan,’ he turns to the door, ‘your company is stable isn’t it?’

‘I think so,’ Dan says flatly. ‘You never know for sure, but we’ll be all right.’

My heart lifts hopefully, we will? Or does he mean his company will be all right?

Mum smiles at him. ‘Of course you will!’

The dogs bark and scramble to their feet at the sound of the doorbell.

‘And that’ll be Stu and Maria!’ Mum says. ‘I think,’ she adds firmly, taking my hand and squeezing it, ‘we should see if we
can make this the best Christmas ever, don’t you? Dan, would you get the door? I must just nip to the loo.’

He obediently vanishes just as two small and very overexcited people appear in his place wearing their pyjamas. ‘Lily can’t
get to sleep,’ Oscar explains helpfully and Chris stands up and says ‘Oh yeah? Just Lily eh? Come on you two. Yeah – don’t
worry, Mum’s coming too.’ Karen’s chair scrapes back, the dogs are still woofing madly and I can hear enthusiastic hellos
happening in the hall.

Only Dad is sitting still, looking at me carefully.

‘Molly …’ he begins.

‘Don’t, Dad,’ I get up quickly, determined not to be forced into breaking the promise I made Dan. ‘Not now. Please.’ And I
rush out of the room before he has the chance to say another word.

When we get back home at about ten at night, having assured my family that we will be back bright and early in the morning
for Christmas breakfast, our front door is slightly ajar. My heart sinks. I was the last one out. ‘Oh look, Father Christmas
has been already,’ I try gamely.

‘Shit!’ Dan flings his seat belt back. ‘You can’t have shut it properly behind you when we left!’

‘I was carrying the presents,’ I call after him, to excuse myself. ‘I didn’t do it on purpose.’

He ignores me and vanishes into the house.

Miraculously, however, inside everything is just as we left it. The tree lights are still twinkling away, everything is tidy,
neat and still.

‘Well, thank God for that.’ He throws the car keys on
the side in relief and makes his way into the kitchen, as I go upstairs to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I can’t
believe I left the front door open. That’s what it’s come to?

I’m just flushing the loo when I see, under the edge of the bathroom door, Dan’s shadow outside. ‘Fancy putting the kettle
on if you’re going back down?’ I call. He doesn’t answer, I just hear his feet on the stairs, which makes me sigh heavily.
I know he’s trying and I know it’s only been two weeks and we’ve got a long, long way to go yet. I also have no right to any
expectations at all, but God, this is tough.

When I get back down he’s in the kitchen putting a fresh bag in the bin. ‘Did you make me a tea?’ I ask.

He looks up in surprise. ‘No.’

‘It doesn’t matter if you didn’t,’ I say quickly. ‘I can do it myself.’

‘Look, I’ll do it,’ he goes to get up, ‘but I didn’t know you wanted one.’

‘I said, upstairs.’

‘I didn’t hear you – I was putting the rubbish out.’

‘Just now!’ I exclaim. ‘I said could you— Oh you know what, Dan?’ I’m suddenly too tired to do this. It’s Christmas Eve for
goodness’ sake. ‘It doesn’t matter. Really it doesn’t.’

I make us tea and we take it into the sitting room, both of us shivering slightly because the house is still so cold. He doesn’t
move away at least, when I sit down next to him on the sofa, which is something I suppose.

And Christmas Day is a bit better still. In amongst the kids’ Christmas excitement – the general noise of everyone mucking
in together, not only is there safety in numbers, it also allows us to mask everything. Someone else is always there, chattering
away, preventing Dan and I from noticing the silence between us. Mum and Dad do all the caring, plying us with more food or
drink, activities and distractions are provided by the boys and the kids; there is a walk outside with the dogs and persistent
requests to play another round of Hungry Hippos. If anyone notices Dan and I are quiet, they tactfully say nothing, no doubt
attributing it to my sudden joblessness. We are gratefully swept up by the family tide and it really helps. It doesn’t make
it all go away of course, but it shouts it down a little. Dan even abruptly kisses me, when we find ourselves alone for a
moment in the kitchen. ‘Happy Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas to you too.’

We just stand there for a moment, opposite each other. He reaches out and I think he’s about to hug me, only Chris walks into
the room clutching some empty glasses. ‘All right?’

‘Yes thanks,’ Dan says. ‘Fat, but all right.’

Chris laughs. ‘I know. I keep thinking I can’t eat another thing and then having just
one
more chocolate.’

Dan allows himself a smile and turns to me. ‘I’m going to go and sit down in the other room. Coming?’

Chris watches him leave and then says casually, as I’m about to follow. ‘You OK, little sis?’

Am I? I think on balance I am. We’re hanging on in there.

I’m still feeling optimistic the following day. It’s a crisp, cold and clear Boxing Day morning – the sky a pale icy blue
as we drive to Dan’s parents. I find a radio station playing carols, and when we arrive Susan has prepared a lovely light
lunch, the fire is blazing away in the beautifully decorated sitting room … it’s like stepping into a Christmas card.