The Torn Up Marriage (8 page)

Doorbells. Bloody phones.

Well, she didn’t have to answer them. Intrusive, droning, buzzy, bloody noises. She buried herself deeper under the duvet. SHE DID NOT HAVE TO SPEAK TO ANYBODY. SHE DID NOT HAVE TO PRETEND SHE WAS ALRIGHT.

She’d fielded all those horrid, heart-wrenching questions from the girls, about why Daddy was going to live elsewhere. She’d made it to school and nursery this morning. Another day, another fake smile. She’d held it together. Got home. And then dragged the duvet from the spare room down to the sofa.

“Buzzzzzzz.”

Jesus, didn’t people know when to give up, leave her bloody alone? She wasn’t in. She wasn’t here. Gone shopping. Gone to London… Paris… Rome…Tokyo. Anywhere but her own life would be good right now. She sank lower, the air stuffy beneath the duvet.

There was a tapping noise, insistent on the glass, like a bird’s beak at the window. Shit, she should have drawn the curtains closed. She froze, going back to her five-year- old self, hiding from the bogey man in the black hole of her bedroom. If she just kept
totally
still, then he wouldn’t know she was there.

The tapping got louder, more persistent, then a voice, “Kate… Kate. It’s me, Mel.”

Kate lay rigid, hardly daring to breathe.

“Are you in there?”

She could picture her friend’s face pressed against the glass. She kept dead still. It was just an empty duvet left there on the sofa, not her at all, honest.

“Kate… look, I guess something’s wrong. I just want to help. Please… Let me in.”

Kate felt her muscles soften, weaken. But no, there was no way she was going to let anyone in. No one could make her do anything she didn’t want to.

“I’m worried about you, Kate.”

Damn, her friend’s voice was kind, concerned. Of all the people she might let in, it was Mel who she might be able trust. But this was too soon. She didn’t want to have to tell anyone else, not yet. It had been so bloody hard telling her parents yesterday, and then the girls with all their innocent questions. She couldn’t go through it all again today.

And once her friends knew, there was no going back. It made it true. Final. What if Michael came home tonight, saying he’d got it all wrong, that he wanted to come back? He loved her after all. A few more days might give them both a chance.

The voice started up again, “I’ll just make you a cup of tea and then go. I’ve brought doughnuts. You don’t even have to speak to me.”

Kate gave a wry smile, still buried under the duvet. That was
so
Mel, bringing emergency food parcels, even though Kate couldn’t face eating a thing. A little voice inside told her to get up, let her in. She was one of the few close friends she had, and, boy, did she need a friend right now. And if she kept her out there any longer all the neighbours would know something was up, anyhow, what with all the bloody shouting at the front window.

She poked her head gingerly above the duvet. As she had pictured, Mel was there, face pressed up against the glass, kind dark eyes looking in, breath misting the outside of the pane.

A smile of relief broke on Mel’s face. “Can I come in, then? ‘Cos I’m getting a bit muddy out here in this flower bed.”

Kate found herself mute and just nodded her head a fraction, pushing the duvet slowly away and resting her bare feet on the carpet. The floor seemed to shift as she came to stand, walking felt odd, as if she’d been on a boat for hours. She headed, with a slight wobble, to the front door, released the catch. The light was way too bright as she opened it.

“Hi. Hey…What’s wrong? Are you ill?”

Kate just shook her head, afraid to speak, to let out the truth. Because the more it was said, the more it became real.

Mel came in, shutting the door behind her. “I’ll make us a cup of tea, then.” She didn’t ask, just headed for the kitchen. Kate following a few paces behind, stood watching as her friend found teabags, two mugs, filled the kettle and clicked it on. Kate then turned and wandered back to her duvet bolt hole, sat back down, huddled in the middle of the sofa.

Mel was soon striding in with two steaming mugs in one hand and a plate with two sugary-warm doughnuts in the other. She set them down on the coffee table. “Sorry, no milk,” she stated, as though it was she who’d forgotten to go shopping for the essentials. She sat in the armchair, which was angled beside the sofa, then passed across a mug for Kate.

“Okay then, hun. Are you going to tell me?”

Kate sat mute, her eyes flicking across to Mel, then away again. Could she? Could she just come out with it? She sipped her tea, watched as Mel eyed the coffee table, taking in the half-empty glass of white wine there. Last night’s probably, Kate mused… or was there a chance she had topped it up this morning? The bottle beside it was empty.

“So you’re not ill?”

Kate shook her head again.

“Then it’s something that’s happened? Are the girls alright?”

She nodded as the tears began to stream down her face. Hot, greedy tears, ready to devour her, time and time again.

“Hey…” Mel moved to the sofa beside her, her arm gentle around Kate’s shoulders. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here for you. You can tell me if you want, but you don’t have to.”

Kate felt herself crumple, giving in to it. Having kept it all inside, for days now. She hadn’t told anyone other than her parents. Was that only yesterday, the zoo visit the girls had with Michael, her trip to her parents? So it must be Monday, a week since that call. Christ, and already she was a total mess. She hadn’t meant to be like this, so pathetic. She had tried so hard to keep it together, to make it all alright for the girls. She’d had a whole sodding week of it. She’d just about managed in front of them, but on her own it had all gone to pieces. There was no lying to herself.

“It’s…” she paused, took a slow, deep breath, feeling as if she was drowning. Mel sat watching her intently. “It’s Michael… he’s having an affair.” The words were out, filling the air around them like radiation. Her husband guilty. Someone else now knew.

The arm about her tightened. “Oh, Kate.”

Kate sighed, gulped another breath, “He’s left me.”

“Oh, God, Kate. You poor love.” Mel took her in her arms, quiet together there, except for the sound of Kate’s muffled sobs. “When? How did you find out?”

Kate paused, pulled away from Mel slightly, knowing this was going to hurt, “He was on his mobile. It all seemed quite normal. Going to stay over, working away.” She stopped speaking, feeling it all rise up again in her, the shock of it all. “Then the phone rang back… he hadn’t realised… clicked it on somehow. There was a woman there. They were arranging a meal out together… I just knew… I just knew.”

“Oh, Kate, I can hardly believe it. You two seemed okay, no,
good
together. Are you sure?”

She nodded sadly, “He’s admitted it all. Told me himself, Mel.”

“Bloody hell!”

They sat a moment or two, silent on the sofa amongst the crumpled duvet, Kate hugging her tea mug, Mel shaking her head sadly, trying to take it all in.

“What will you do? Do you think he’ll come back?”

“What the hell
can
I do, Mel? I can’t just march around there and demand he comes home, can I? Like he’s just been a bit of a naughty boy. God, I don’t even know where he is. I don’t know where she lives. It’s his bloody secretary… I – I don’t even know if I want him back.”

“Whoah! I see. Well, if it was my Kev I’d have him strung up on a meat hook, and get a carving knife to his knackers. But that’s just me.”

Kate rallied with a small grin. Now there was a thought.

“And the girls,” Mel continued, “has he seen them at all? How are they?”

“Okay-ish. But they’re asking loads of questions, naturally. He took them out yesterday, tried to explain the situation a bit. I think he misses them. I can tell they’re missing him.”

“No wonder! What an idiot! How could he do it to you, Kate? You’re beautiful, clever. He doesn’t deserve you if he can act like that. What a tosser! He’ll regret it, you know. Once his dick stops doing all the thinking for him. Bloody men!”

“Yeah, bloody men… Your Kev’s alright, though, isn’t he? He’s never done anything like this, surely?”

“No, he’s a good’un. Well, as far as I know. But they haven’t all been… I was let down badly once. A guy I’d been going out with for a year or so, we were engaged. Well, he had a few too many drinks one night, told me he thought we were getting a bit staid, needed a break. A few days later I found out he’d gone off with my girlfriend, Angie.”

“Oh, Mel, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, it’s okay. It was years ago. Then I met Kev. It’s been good.” Mel took a large bite out of a doughnut. “Anyway, what are we going to do about you, hey, hun? How can I help, Kate? Just say. Anything? Shall I have the girls for you for a few days?”

“No,” Kate’s tone was sharp. It surprised them both. “No,” again, softer now. “It’s just, I need to be with them, to have that routine. It’s the only thing keeping me going right now. Thanks, anyway.”

“Well, what else can I do? Take you out for a drink?” Mel eyed the empty bottle again, “Maybe not such a good idea! Tea and cake at the castle café? You name it!”

“Soon, maybe, but I’m not quite ready for any of that just yet. Don’t feel up to the big wide world somehow.”

“Okay, well I’ll see you at nursery and I’ll pop in here and catch up with you again tomorrow. Promise you’ll let me in. Yep? It was bloody freezing out in that flower bed.”

“Yep.”

“And ring me if you need anything. Any time, honest, even if it’s two in the morning and you’re feeling shitty. I’ll be there for you.”

More tears gathered in Kate’s eyes. She wiped at some snotty stuff on the end of her nose with the corner of the duvet.

“And if you don’t feel up to going far, then just come round to mine. Bring Emily one afternoon. We’ll let the kids play and we can sit and slag off men and eat piles of chocolate cake and hob-nobs.” Kate glanced across at her friend, still unsure about having to cope with anything outside these four walls. Mel continued, “Well, if no one’s going to see you naked for a while, then you may as well eat what you like and make the most of it.”

Kate teetered on annoyance. How could Mel make a joke of it, when her life was falling apart around her? But, then, there it was, in spite of herself, a small smile turning up the corners of Kate’s mouth.

“Only trying to cheer you up, hun. Look sorry, but I’m going to have to go now. I promised Kev I’d get something sent off in the lunchtime post, something to do with his work. And then it’ll be time to pick up at nursery. Do you need anything in town? Shall I get you some milk?”

“Ah, milk. Thanks, yes… Ooh, and I don’t think we have any bread.” She remembered guiltily that it was all green and mouldy this morning. No toast, the girls were moaning, only cereal left, and then only
boring
Cornflakes at that, ones that Michael had left. Her plans of being the perfect single parent had drifted again.

She glanced at her watch. Not long till nursery finished. Where the hell had the morning gone? She’d need to shower, get dressed. She had a suspicious feeling she was back in pyjamas. Looked down at herself, yep, there they were. When had she put them back on? She
really
hoped she hadn’t gone to school in them under her coat. The rumours would be flying by now. The old gossip pants no doubt spreading the word about how Kate Armstrong had
really
let herself go, coming to school looking like a bag lady. And in a few days they’d not be surprised at all by the news that her husband had left her.

“Mel? This morning, I wasn’t wearing these, was I?” She stood up revealing her grey-and-pink-trimmed fleece pyjamas.

“No, hun,” her tone matter of fact, as though it wouldn’t have really mattered if she was, “I’m sure you were in jeans. Though it might just start a new trend.”

“Ah, thank God.”

Mel smiled, “Sorry, I’d really better go.” She stood beside Kate, adding firmly, “You’re going to be okay, Kate. Really you are. Whatever happens from now, you can get through it. And you’re not alone, okay?”

“Okay.” She wasn’t too sure, to be honest, but it seemed easier to agree. She’d better get herself showered, dressed and off to the nursery. She dumped the duvet down on the sofa.

“I’ll see you in a little while, then, and I’ll fetch those things from the shops for you.” Mel was heading for the hall. “Catch up with you at the nursery. Unless you want me to fetch Emily for you?”

“No, no that’s okay. I’ll get myself together. The fresh air’ll do me good.”

“Okay, see you shortly. I’ll see myself out.”

“Mel,” Kate stopped her.

She turned, “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Any time, hun. Any time.”

Kate managed a fragile smile. There was someone on her side.

There was some soap opera droning away on the telly, a glass of white wine in her hand. Oh, a young girl was about to give birth, stuck in some dingy bedsit on her own. Nah, she really didn’t want to watch that. She flicked channels, settling on a soothing repeat of
Friends
.

But then her mind raced. Young Mum. Babies… periods. Something niggled. When
did
she have her last period? It seemed an awfully long while ago. But then life had got so mixed up, and time had had its own schedule lately, dragging slowly, then getting lost in chunks, maybe it just
felt
like ages. In fact, how long had Michael been away now? Two weeks? Was that all it was? He’d left on a Wednesday and today was? What was today, a school day, but which? Thursday – it might be Thursday. Charlotte had taken her PE kit with her this morning.

Her period must have been due around about the time Michael had left. It was usually early in the month, she was always pretty regular. But it hadn’t happened then, she was sure. But if not then, when was it? Come on Kate, brain into action, this is important. Focus. When would it have been? Was there anything significant about it? They’d got heavier of late, especially since she’d had Emily. There was a blurry image of her knackered, tucked up on the sofa, with a hot-water bottle shoved between her pyjama bottoms and dressing gown. Michael was definitely about. And they were talking, something to do with the next day. She hoped she’d feel better. There was something they had to go to…Her mother’s birthday. That was it. They’d made it for afternoon tea and cake. So that was… the 3rd March. And today was? April the something. She didn’t know… She didn’t even know the bloody date now. Not the day of the week or the flippin’ date. She was going nuts. She raced to the kitchen, looked at the family wall calendar, traced a finger along the days in April. It was Thursday, April the 19
th. Not good. Not good at all. Nuts, and maybe… pregnant.

Shit.

No, surely not. They’d hardly had sex in the past few months. And now she knew why. She wandered back to the comfort of the sofa. But there was that night, the theatre. Michael’s parents had had the girls as there was a showing of
Equus
at the Alnwick Playhouse. They’d stopped at the Bistro for some supper on the way home, walked back hand in hand. It had felt a little like old times. And they had made love, for the first time in ages. A glimpse of their former life as a couple, before the children. Then it struck her cold; he was with someone else now. In love with someone else.

She slumped back further into the settee, hugging her wine glass, taking a slurp, spilling some down her fleece top. Surely fate couldn’t be that cruel to her, giving her a child amidst all this chaos. Maybe it was just all the stress, all the havoc of these past two weeks sending her body out of sync. She’d heard of that. It could happen. She took another glug of wine. Then sat up abruptly, setting the glass down on the coffee table. What if she really was pregnant? She shouldn’t be drinking for a start.

And how would she tell Michael? Could she bring a child into this wreck of a family? Would she really want to have it? But then, how could she not? How
could
she not? Their two beautiful girls, upstairs asleep. It wasn’t the child’s fault, for Christ’s sake, that its father had turned into a complete bastard, that a marriage had fallen apart.

She exhausted herself with such thoughts, left the glass of wine half drunk, found her way upstairs and tried to get some sleep. She’d taken to sleeping in the spare room; the smaller bed being more of a comfort, not so empty, not filled with the memories of him, of them. She remembered that night, though, her mind drifting back to that other room, that other bed. They had recaptured something that night. A tender passion of old, like things used to be. Made love, not just the act of sex, or so she had thought. Maybe it was the red wine in the bistro fooling her, or the mere embers of love.

But all the while he must have been with
her,
his mistress. The day before, the week before? Having sex, with
her
. Kate punched the pillows, kicked down into the mattress, like a toddler in a tantrum. Damn, she mustn’t wake the girls. She bit down hard into the pillow to stop the scream that was surging in her chest, to stop her crying out.

She was on the Pill, for Christ’s sake, they hadn’t wanted another child yet. Give them chance to see if two was right, enough. Then she remembered the tummy upset, Emily had had it too – a bug going around the nursery. She bit harder into the pillow, suffocating her sorrow, her fear. It had seemed such a lovely night. The show, the wine, the slow walk home, the making love. It had all been a lie.

So, she had to get to a chemist’s, get a pregnancy test. She’d go crazy if she didn’t find out one way or another. And then what? She wouldn’t think of that right now. All she had to do was find out.

She walked fast, going straight from the school and nursery into the town centre, past the old railway buildings of Barter Books, the Percy Tower, the Playhouse, trying so hard not to dwell on that night again. She made her way under the stone arch that led into the high street, Bondgate Within. A traditional market town centre, the buildings old, of honey-coloured stone, a cluster of shops, WHSmiths, the Co-op, Iceland, a smattering of banks and building societies, and a Boots the Chemists. The honk of a horn, the chatter of passers-by, a pram, gulp. All she had to do was get to the chemist’s.

She loitered for a while next to the make-up counter, staring blankly at lipsticks and foundation. What on earth was she doing? She was bloody thirty-three, not thirteen. The quicker she got this done, the less chance there was of anyone she knew seeing her. God forbid that bloody Rachel woman from school would catch her at the till. She was such a gossip. Okay, then, find the right aisle, she sensed it would be near the back of the shop. She finally found the tests near the condoms and pleasure gels. Felt her face flush and a hot sensation up her neck as she took hold of the Clearblue package, spotting the words “reliable” and “results in seconds”, and walked with it half-hidden in her palm to the pharmacy counter. As she lifted it to be scanned at the till, she noticed the results now came written on the little screen, with the number of weeks pregnant, no less. How different this all was from when she’d found out she was pregnant with Charlotte and Emily, so desperately hoping for that blue line. The excitement, anticipation. How happy she and Michael had been.

And now there might be another child, one perhaps not so wanted. Confusion and pain welled behind her eyes.

“That’s £11.95, please.” The young woman at the till was smiling at her.

Kate blinked back the tears that threatened. Blimey, she hadn’t even looked at the price. Were they that expensive? She fumbled in her purse to find a note. She took the change and grasped the bag.

Yes, a child that might be brought up in a single-parent household, with a visiting Daddy. She felt a little sorry for “it” already. But there might not be an
it
after all, she told herself – just wait and see. Out on the street, she checked whether you could see through the thin plastic of the bag, but the test wasn’t obvious. She’d go straight home – get it over with. A spasm of panic gripped her insides. The “what if’s” flying left, right and centre through her brain. She clutched the bag guiltily, protectively, as she walked back along the high street, past the row of banks, towards the art gallery, the tea-rooms.

Two figures stepped out from the café ahead. Something struck her about the taller one, the build, his dark hair, smart suit, the familiar way he walked. He was leaning in towards the other figure, seemingly deep in conversation. They were holding hands.

Michael. And, it had to be… Sophie.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. It was them. Shit. Shit. Shit.

I… DO… NOT… WANT… TO… BE… HERE. Kate ducked into a doorway for a second or two. I… DO… NOT… WANT… TO… SEE… HER. Bitch. Bitch. Bitch.
What does she look like?

Kate poked her head out to swipe a glance up the street, an old lady passing by gave her a strange look. They were still walking towards her. They’d come out of the café, it was early in the morning. Breakfast? Is that what you did when you had no children to worry about? Go out for breakfast, have cappuccino and croissants before starting work at a leisurely hour. How nice for them, how sodding nice! So they were out cavorting, while she struggled to get the girls ready in the mornings, making packed lunches, organising school bags. She hardly had time to brush her own hair, let alone put on make-up and go out for a coffee.

So why was she in a shop doorway, hiding? She had done nothing wrong. It was
his
guilt not hers,
his
blame. She stood stalwartly back onto the pavement. They were only metres away. The bag with the test in began to burn in her hand.

He looked up, caught her eye, his face lost all colour. His eyes flicked away nervously. Then he muttered something to the woman, his lips mouthing “Kate”. He shifted a fraction away from his partner, but still held her hand. Sophie looked up then, too. Kate stared. So, Sophie was medium height, not as petite as Kate had painted her in her mind, with a curvy figure. As she got nearer, Kate could see that her eyes were dark brown, laden with mascara, set above a pert nose and a pout of a mouth, red and glossy with lipstick.

She was pretty, no doubt about it, but not a stunner, just normal pretty. The hair was auburn, how had she guessed? But a slightly duller tone than Kate had given her. It fell to just below the shoulders. She was wearing black trousers with a red jacket, a spotty scarf knotted at the neck. Smart. She’d definitely had time to put full make-up on this morning.

Sounds became too loud inside Kate’s head. Her pulse pounding just behind her ears, the loud gulp of her swallowing. They were nearly there, four metres apart, two, one. The three of them. She saw Michael drop their joined hands lower.

Sophie looked uncomfortable. Michael face to face with Kate now. He had a glow about him despite his evident nervousness. He was the first to speak, “Hello, Kate,” his voice was a little stilted.

“Ah… hi.” And so, they met. She was on autopilot now, polite formality masking the knife blade in her guts. “So, this must be…” Her throat went dry.

“Sophie… yes.”

The other woman gave her a timid smile, “Hello, Kate. Nice to meet you.”

Well, wasn’t this awfully nice? Meet the fucking lover. Kate felt the Boots bag swing from her wrist. Oh shite! She lowered it swiftly. Her brain buzzed with the craziness of it all, a knot of tension flaring into a headache.

Kate nodded at Sophie,
bitch, bitch, bitch
, then looked again at Michael, unable to hide the hurt from her eyes. “I–I’d better get on.” Get out of here. Right now.

“Okay.” Michael’s tone was soft, relieved no doubt that she wasn’t going to make a scene. “I’ll see you tomorrow when I come and collect the girls.”

Kate looked at him blankly.

“Tomorrow, after school. You said it would be alright.”

Had she? She just nodded, ready to go. Get away from all this fake fucking politeness, when all she really wanted to do was kick Michael in the balls.

“Bye, then,” her mouth was dry.

“Bye,” his voice seemed sad, loaded with a tone of guilt, pity. They parted ways, walked on, Kate briskly. She realised she was trembling.

She didn’t need his pity. All she had ever needed was his love.