A Suitable Lie (15 page)

She reached under the waistband of my shorts and grabbed my penis. It didn’t fill her hand as well as she hoped.

‘Get harder.’ Her voice was a muted growl.

Her hand began to move. I felt myself harden again, surprisingly quickly. No, I said to myself.

‘No,’ I said aloud. ‘No.’ I pushed her away. ‘Just leave me alone. I want to sleep.’

‘No sleep for Andy until Anna gets her pole,’ she chanted in a sing-song voice. ‘No sleep for Andy.’

‘Fine.’ I jumped out of bed. ‘Then I’ll just walk the streets again.’

I was going to make a stand. I was not going to be bullied into having sex. No matter how much she wanted it. Or my Judas prick, for that matter.

As my slipper-clad feet slapped the pavements of Ayr once more, I wondered at my energy, that I could cope with this for another night. As I congratulated myself and considered whether or not my rugby training had given me this much grit and endurance, a question thrust itself to the forefront my mind. Why didn’t I just let her fuck me? In every other aspect of our lives she was doing that very thing.

What could I do? How could I get out of this horrible situation?

I thought about how I might react the next time she attacked me. Shook my head as if to disperse the terrible imaginings provided by my mind. Each answer I came up with was discounted until all I could think about was Anna dead at my feet, by my hand.

L
ife at home was becoming more and more of a strain, I had to look for ways to keep my sanity. Anna didn’t know what she was doing, I reasoned. She was a victim of her past. I drove her to it. It was
all
my fault.

It was
my
fault.

It was
my
fault.

These were the legends that coursed through my mind. Flames of self-doubt licking hungrily at any suggestion that I might be blameless; that I might have any control.

While at work, there were times that I could barely read the charts and reports in front of me. My brain was disorientated from lack of sleep. I could see the numbers, I could follow the line of figures, but they made as much sense as if they had been written in Sanskrit. All of this made escaping into work futile. Besides, I didn’t want to give any clues to my colleagues that things weren’t quite what they should be at home. In the past, I had myself participated in office gossip sessions where people questioned the marriages of those who were overly conscientious at work.

The Rugby Club was a contender as a distraction from my problems. But it was ruled out after a suggestion of a night out there received an answer in the form of a knee to the groin. I deserved it. I should have known not to mention the club.

Another woman was definitely not an option. Anna was particularly zealous in checking for signs that I was being unfaithful. I was having enough problems with one woman. Two, was two too many.

The boys were a constant source of joy to me. Their trusting, beautiful faces thrust up to mine every day in a rainbow of grins. I
would have been lost without them. But I couldn’t rely on them to be my rescue party, my cushion against the blows.

I had also begun to realise that my boys were much more aware than I thought possible. They might not have the vocabulary to articulate what they saw and felt, but they might note the tension and translate whatever was going on as their fault. For this reason, I had to try and make their lives as normal as possible. Even if this was at a cost to me.

While I waited for some other possibility to occur to me, I could just go and get pissed.

If I was going to endure a beating anyway, I would be as well as to take it like a drunk. Inebriation would be my anaesthetic. And in my darkest moments I imagined that final irrevocable act.

With a deep, burning shame, and in great detail.

‘Y
ou look like shit,’ Roy Campbell said as he entered my office.

‘Thanks,’ I muttered. Keeping my head up was using all of my energy. A witty riposte was nowhere near the agenda.

Sheila Hunter walked in with him. I managed a smile when I saw her. What a transformation. One divorce and two promotions later, she continued to look every inch the modern professional. She was now Roy’s assistant and handled his particular brand of ‘humour’ with irony warmed with the suggestion of a smile. She had known a real hard man. Roy Campbell was a pet mouse by comparison.

The smile with which she greeted me had concern laced around the edges. ‘Hi, Andy,’ she said the smile turning into a slight frown.

I mumbled something in reply and moved my attention back to my sales figures. A blush heated my ears and I wondered at my discomfiture. Why would a woman I liked and one that I admired make me feel so uncomfortable? Even as I asked, I knew the answer. I envied her composure and her strength. I also wanted to tell her everything that was going on, because I knew that, of everyone I came into contact with, she alone would understand. She alone would be able to offer advice.

But I would never be able to admit to anyone what was happening. What self-esteem I had left was wrapped up in the torn linen of the thought that I at least had the appearance of a strong, confident, capable male.

‘We’re on our way down to Girvan,’ said Roy, ‘for a wee inspection.’ He rubbed his hands together, no doubt at the thought of catching some poor member of staff out. ‘And just thought we’d pop in, say hello.’

‘Hello.’ I didn’t look up from my work.

‘How’s the family?’ he asked.

‘Fine.’

‘Right … good. Staffing levels okay? Not having too many cash differences?’

I considered these questions for a moment. ‘Yes and no.’ The truth was that I wasn’t sure. I had lost track a little over the previous weeks.

Whatever Roy was, he was no slouch and he had asked these questions for a reason. When he had gone I would make my own enquiries.

‘Right, better go. I’ll just go to the wee boy’s room before we head off.’ He left the office.

‘You okay, Andy?’ Sheila asked, after making sure that Roy was out of earshot.

‘Aye, fine.’ I met her eyes for as long as it took to blink.

‘You sure?’

‘Aye … aye. No problems.’

‘I should warn you –’ she craned her head to look down the corridor ‘– we got a complaint at Regional Office that you were coming in, stinking of drink and that you were leaving your work to junior staff.’

‘Has no one at Regional heard of delegation?’ I bristled.

‘Andy, I’m on your side.’ Sheila leaned towards me. ‘Remember, I’ve been there.’

These last five syllables were uttered quietly, conspiratorially. Could she know? How? I was hiding it, wasn’t I?

‘Don’t know what you’re on about,’ I said, more harshly than I intended, while checking that my tie was on straight.

‘Sorry. Just thought that I should warn you. Roy’s been sent down here to check up on you.’

‘Well it’s a waste of his fucking time then, isn’t it? Cos there’s nothing wrong.’

Sheila took a step back, her hands up, palms facing me.

‘What’s this?’ Roy re-entered the room. I caught the look of warning he flashed at Sheila.

‘Nothing,’ she said with a smile. ‘I was just asking Andy about the kids. I’d heard that Ryan was down with chicken pox, and Andy was just telling me that there was nothing wrong with him.’

‘Good, excellent,’ said Roy, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. ‘Terrible thing that for kids. Could be worse; mumps – now, that would get Dad where it hurts.’

‘Goodbye, Roy. Got to get on with this.’ I pointed at the sheets of paper in front of me.

As soon as they left the room, I buried my head in my hands. Shit. I thought I was keeping up appearances. Everyone must have known what a mess I was in. I always prided myself in keeping a tight team. The fact that I’d driven someone to complain about me made me burn with embarrassment. I would have to get my act together. But I couldn’t until I got some sleep.

Sleep. Sleep…

‘A
ndy, Andy.’ I was roughly awakened by Malcolm. ‘What the fuck are you up to? Sleep for elevenses?’

‘Eh … oh … Ryan had nightmares last night.’ I surprised myself with that one. I must have been sleeping for about an hour. ‘Took me ages to get him back to sleep.’

‘I just wanted you to sign this off. Safe Custody charges. I need your initials.’

‘Fine.’ I took the batch of slips from him and quickly initialled them all. There was quite a bundle of them and Malcolm stood before me quietly as I did as he asked.

‘Cheers, boss,’ he said as he left the room.

Better get your act together, Boyd, I told myself. Things had obviously gotten pretty bad if Roy Campbell was on the sniff for trouble.

Sleep was my obvious solution. I had to do whatever it took for Anna to let me get a good night’s sleep. Short meetings with various members of my staff were able to satisfy me that my rudderless ship was staying on course, thanks to the excellent team I had. But I could discover no clue as to who might have complained about me to Regional Office. The day slipped past quietly, with only a few menial tasks at hand. This afforded me the luxury of a few more cat-naps.

T
he boys greeted me at the door that night with their customary zeal, each trying to outdo the other. Pat easily reached me first, sending Ryan into a sulk.

‘There you go, son,’ I gathered him up with my left hand, Pat was perched on the right, ‘There’s plenty of room for you both.’

I looked for Anna, while acid threatened to scorch my gullet. For the boys’ sake I forced some gaiety into my voice. ‘Sweetheart, that’s me home.’

She appeared at the kitchen door wearing an apron over her jeans with her hair tied back from her face. She blew at a stray lock of hair that tickled her cheek.

‘Hi, honey. Tea’s nearly ready,’ she smiled. This was the first friendly sign I’d had for weeks. ‘Boys, give your Dad some peace,’ she said. ‘Give him a chance to get in the door.’

Although I was more than happy to have the boys climb all over me, I allowed Anna to shoo them away to their toys.

‘I’ll just get you a cup of tea while I give your steak another couple of minutes under the grill,’ she cooed.

A cup of tea? Steak? Anna’s mood swings had proven to be mercurial in the past, but this was beating all records. With some trepidation I held my hand out to accept a hot mug of tea. It was offered with a warm smile. I waited for hot liquid to scald my scalp. Instead, hot china filled my palm.

‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Welcome.’

Emboldened by this gesture I asked, ‘Are … are we okay?’

‘Of course, hon.’ She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I disguised my flinch. ‘But we do need to talk.’ Her eyes shone with affection. ‘As soon as the boys are in bed, okay?’

Nodding in agreement, I was temporarily bereft of speech at this turn of events. Anna wanted to talk. Usually anything out-with her comfort zone was added to the large heap under the carpet.

Pat protested that we were putting him to bed a little earlier than normal, but did as he was asked nonetheless.

‘Will you read me a story, Dad?’ He was going for the usual delay tactic.

‘Just a wee one, Pat.’ With my mind elsewhere, I raced through part of a tale of a boy and a dragon.

Soon I was downstairs and waiting for Anna to begin.

She sat beside me on the settee. Her small hands seemed to envelop my larger ones.

‘Things haven’t been too good between us recently and…’ Even such a small sentence was like magic. She still loved me. She still needed me.

‘Anna, it’s okay.’ I was almost down on my knees before her. Every muscle in my body sagging with relief. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s all my fault. If I wasn’t so obstinate … if I wasn’t so self-centred…’ With every word I brought myself down, with every sentence I accepted the burden of blame for every error in our relationship. While logic screamed that this was ludicrous, all I could think of was that Anna still loved me. She hadn’t actually said so yet, but the mouse that the man had become was nibbling greedily at the smallest morsel of reconciliation offered.

‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Anna offered. ‘It’s not
all
your fault. You do drive me wild at times.’ She punctuated this statement by holding my cheek between finger and thumb and giving it a squeeze. ‘But I shouldn’t go off the rails like that.’ She gathered my head to her breast and I could feel the heat of her face through my scalp.

‘I do love you,’ she said. Letting me go she looked deep into my eyes. ‘Pals?’

If I’d been a dog, my tail would have been lustily sweeping the floor. I nodded.

‘Come on.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go to bed. I’ve not had my big man for a while.’

A
fter we made love, exhaustion threatened to pull me into a sleep from which I would never wake. I was on the rim of oblivion when Anna spoke.

‘Your mother called just before you got in from work.’

‘Mmmm.’

‘She said to say hello. She was full of questions. She asked how were the boys, how were you, how was I, what had we been up to. Hope you haven’t been saying anything to her.’

S
everal weeks passed in which peace reigned in the Boyd household. Not one word spoken between us came pre-heated with anger. No gesture from Anna even hinted that she was struggling to contain herself. She was quite simply in a good mood.

This truce was evidenced by the carefree behaviour of Pat. Ryan was, of course, too young to take note of any difference, but Pat laughed louder, played harder and smiled much more than he had for months. I was able to charge my depleted ‘good-time’ battery up for the leaner times to come. Come they would. I was certain of it. Anna had shown too much evidence of lack of control for me to think that in just a matter of weeks she had changed. No, it would take much longer than this before I would let my guard down.

I
t was one of those late-summer days when nature attempts to make up for the cold weather ahead. Or perhaps she was trying to persuade us that winter would be delayed indefinitely. Whatever her intentions, the garden was a melée of colour and the sun was stout in the sky.

Tanned and smiling, the boys raced around me after a ball. Ryan could hardly run for giggling while Pat egged him on. No doubt he was hoping for a repeat of the previous evening. Ryan had become so excited he fertilised the plants in the border with his dinner.

‘Pat,’ I warned, ‘don’t get your brother so het up.’

‘Dad…’ I am always impressed by how long a child can make that one syllable last. ‘We’re just havin’ a laugh.’

‘I’ll just have a laugh, my boy.’ I picked him up and, holding him tight in my arms, ran round the garden. This of course pushed Ryan’s giggles to further heights. Pat joined him in mirth.

‘Daaaad.’ He stopped giggling to groan. ‘Make me stop, it’s sore.’

‘I’ll make you stop alright.’ I let him fall to the floor, bent over him, pulled his shirt up and blew raspberries on his stomach. While I was doing this Ryan, using my outstretched foot as a step, climbed onto my back.

‘Me, me, me,’ he chanted.

‘Happy to oblige.’ I pulled him off my back, lay him on top of Pat and went from one soft belly to the next, blowing laughing raspberries.

‘Careful, Andy.’ Anna’s head was leaning out of the kitchen window. ‘You know what happened last night.’

Ryan heard his Mum’s voice and scampered to the back door shouting, ‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.’ Anna had been away at the supermarket for the weekly shop. She had only recently stopped taking Ryan everywhere with her and he was taking it hard.