Lessons for a Sunday Father (6 page)

   *   *   *

It’s dead quiet. All I can hear is my own heartbeat, my breathing. I imagine I can even hear the blood rushing round my body, as if it’s hunting in every corner of me for a miracle, a good excuse. It’s only a lie. I can cross my fingers behind my back. I can say I don’t really mean it inside my head, to cancel it out. I should just risk it. I’m not even superstitious for chrissakes. Come on, Scotty, what’s the difference? Say it, for God’s sake, man, just say it. I try it inside my head, saying it quickly, silently. I swear on Rosie’s life, on Nat’s life, that I didn’t sleep with another woman. Even silent, the words crackle with danger, like they’ve sparked a deadly fuse—images flicker through my mind, in split-second flashes—Rosie cycling along the pavement on her purple bicycle—car taking the corner too fast—driver’s face in shock, his whisky-dulled reflexes going in slow motion—mounting the kerb—Rosie’s face, her little mouth falling open in a silent “O"—the sickening screech of tyres. And Nat—suddenly older—at a club—body so lean and tall, he looks like he’s not yet grown into it, not ready for it yet—he steps back to let a girl pass, knocks someone’s drink—a face, hot with hate, close to his—pushing—broken glass—the flash of a knife pulled from a sock—Nat’s face, the surprise on it, his eyes as he looks down to see his own blood.

“I—”

   *   *   *

Outside, a car suddenly revs up and we both jump. And then I lose it completely and start babbling:

“It was only the once. It really was. It was nothing, meant nothing. She doesn’t mean anything to me—it wasn’t what you think—it wasn’t an affair, nothing like that—honestly—it just happened—it’ll never happen again—I’ll never see her again—I swear—I promise—you see, it—”

“Ssshh!” Gail says. “The kids’ll hear. Keep your voice down.”

“Sorry.”

She snorts through her nose at my limp apology.

“Kitchen.” She heads downstairs. “Put something on.”

I pull my trousers back on over the treacherous underpants, and my shirt that I’d flung over the back of a chair.

She’s sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of water. I offer her coffee but she snorts again. Still, I need to do something with my hands, which won’t stop shaking, so I fumble with the kettle, the coffee jar, drag out the business of opening the fridge, pouring the milk, slowly taking the lid off the sugar bowl, looking down into my coffee as I stir it, as if the answer of what to do next would suddenly be revealed in my mug. Wipe at the wet coffee ring on the counter and spread the cloth out to dry properly, showing her what a good husband I am. Pick up a tea-towel hanging over the back of a chair, clutch it for something to hold onto, as if it could somehow save me.

“I didn’t realize our marriage meant nothing to you.”

“It doesn’t! It means everything, you know it does.”

Gail shakes her head.

“Ssh! Fifteen years down the drain. Bit of a waste, I’d say.”

“C’mon, love. Don’t be like that. We can work things out.”

“Like what? Don’t you dare tell me how to behave. How dare you! You fucking little shit, you could have given me a disease, AIDS, anything!”

I flinch hearing Gail swear. I can’t think the last time I heard her swear. She’s normally really good about it, because of setting an example to Nat and Rosie. It’s like hearing a nun swear or something.

“No, Gail. There’s no need to worry about that. We used protection.”

“Oh, I see. It was totally unplanned and you had no idea your wayward willy was going to lead you into some slag’s bed but you happened to have a packet of condoms on you. Am I supposed to be grateful?”

You can’t win, can you?

“They weren’t mine. She had them.”

After that, there’s no stopping her, on and on she goes, one question after another, firing them off like bullets but still strangely controlled, like she’s a quizmaster reading them from an autocue: Who is this bitch? What’s her name? How old is she? Where does she live? How did I meet her? Did I tell her I was married? Does she want me to move in? On and on. Nothing I say seems to make any difference.

“It’s nothing like that, Gail. I told you, it was—”

“Oh, shut up, Scott. Just shut up. I haven’t got the energy to be screaming at each other all night.” I hadn’t been screaming, but now wasn’t the time to be picking her up on details. Then suddenly she stood up. “It’s bin day tomorrow. Did you remember to put the rubbish out?”

“Er, no. Strangely, it slipped my mind.” Still, it seems like a good sign, you know, that things are settling down and we’re getting back to normal again. I start thinking, we’ll sleep on it and she’ll be better in the morning, we can have a talk and I’ll explain how it was.

“Well, I can’t do it. I’ve not got my slippers on.”

I even feel grateful that I’ve got something to do. Something physical, something I could actually manage without making a total balls-up of it. I flick the tea-towel over my shoulder like a chef and shove my bare feet into my loafers from the shoe rack in the hall. Go round the side to get the bin. I hear the front door click shut. Put the bin out front then tap lightly on the glass.

“Gail?”

“Yes?” Her voice is cold, distant.

“Open up, love. It’s cold out here.”

“Who’s there?”

Oh, great, we’re going to play silly buggers, are we?

“Come on. It’s me. Stop pissing about.”

“I’m afraid you don’t live here any more.”

I squat down to talk to her through the letterbox.

“Gail!”

“Sssh!” Her eyes meet mine. “Don’t you dare upset the children. I realize you’ve got no regard for my feelings, but I’d have thought you’d at least care about theirs.”

“Gail. Sweetheart. I’m freezing out here. A joke’s a joke, but that’s enough now. Let me in and we can have a proper talk, eh?”

“A joke? Is that what this is to you? You just turn my entire life upside-down and throw fifteen years of my life away and you think it’s a joke. Well, I’m sorry if I don’t share your sense of humour. Try not to get in the milkman’s way if you’re planning to camp on the front step all night.”

The hall light clicks off.

“Gail! For chrissakes. Look, let’s all calm down now—”

“I’m perfectly calm. Yes, I seem to be. I’m quite calm.”

“At least open the door to give me my car keys, Gail. You wouldn’t have me walk the streets all night, would you?”

There is a silence. I stand up, seeing her shape move about through the frosted glass of the door. There’s a jangling sound—my keys—what could be taking so long? I duck down again so I can peer through the letterbox and she nearly pokes my sodding eye out with the keys. She’s taken my house keys off the ring, leaving just my car and work keys. Cheers, darling. Then she bends down and I’m staring straight into her eyes through the slot.

“I’ve taken off your house keys because you won’t be needing them again.”

“Gail, sweetheart, c’mon now, let’s not get—”

Then she shoves the flap back in my face.

“Can I have my jacket then? Please.”

“It won’t fit through the letterbox.”

I feel like Hannibal the Cannibal in
Silence of the Lambs.
You know, Hannibal Lecter and all his food and papers has to go through this slot otherwise he’ll take a bite out of you as soon as look at you.

“Just open the door a crack.” I figure if I can just get my foot in the door, I can keep her talking a bit longer, get her to see reason.

She’s just the other side of the door. Then I hear her slam the bolt across and double-lock the door. I watch her through the letterbox, the backs of her bare feet as she climbs the stairs to our bedroom alone.

“Gail!”

Ha! She’ll probably come down in ten minutes to let me in. She’s just trying to get her own back, punish me by having me freeze on my own front doorstep. Still, what if she doesn’t? Anyway, I couldn’t stay out there all night. I get in the car and start the engine to warm it up, thinking what the hell do I do now? Where can I go, where can I go?

And that’s how I ended up spending the night at work.

Nat’s a big, fat liar. He said that Dad’s left us and he’s not coming back, he said Dad never came home last night and Mum was lying when she told us he’d gone out with a friend and that’s why he wasn’t eating with us. Mum says it’s wrong to lie. That time when I broke the yellow teapot and I hid all the pieces in the garden behind the shed and said I hadn’t seen it, then Mum said you have to tell the truth and if you do everything will be all right. Nat tells lies the whole time. He says he’s doing his homework when he’s playing on his computer. He says he hasn’t any money for the bus, so Mum gives it to him and then he walks to school and keeps the money. He says it is all right and not really like lying because he might need the money for the bus and anyway it is not hurting anyone.

Dad wasn’t at breakfast this morning, and he didn’t say goodbye again, same as yesterday.

When Mum wasn’t looking, Nat kicked me under the table and said, “See?” He nodded at Dad’s empty chair. I kicked Nat then tucked my legs up under me so he couldn’t get me back again.

   *   *   *

Then Mum told us we were going to Nana and Grandad’s for the weekend. Nat made a face, but he likes it there really. Nana makes the best roast potatoes in the whole wide world and last time Grandad told us he had a picture of the Queen each for us behind the clock on the mantelpiece and when we looked there were two ten pound notes. Nat asked Mum if Dad was coming too. He took an orange out of the fruit bowl and started throwing it up in the air and catching it in one hand. Then Mum said, actually, no he wouldn’t be coming and then her face went all funny and she sat down in a chair really quickly and said she needed to talk to us.

Nat turned round and dropped his orange.

“See, Rosie! I
told
you!”

“Nathan! Don’t shout at Rosie.”

“I’ve got to go.”

Mum looked at the clock.

“You’ve got a minute. Please come and sit down.”

“I’ll stand.”

Mum sighed, then she said that she and Dad had decided that they were going to have a little bit of time apart and so Dad wouldn’t be living with us at home for a while. She said it wasn’t because of us and we must understand that Mummy and Daddy both still loved us very much. Nat was standing to one side and he poked his finger in his mouth, like he does if something makes him sick.

Nat picked up his orange and dropped it on the table like a ball, as if he thought it would bounce.

“Don’t do that, Nathan. You’ll spoil it.”

“So?”

“I realize you must be upset, Natty …” Mum stretched out her arms, like she was going to give him a hug, but he stepped back away from her.

“I’m not. I don’t give a toss what you two get up to.”

Then he kicked his chair and went out into the hall.

“Wait, Nat! We really need to—” Mum started to get up.

“Got to go. You’ll make me late.” Then the front door slammed. Mum sat down again.

“Rosie? Do you understand what I’ve been saying?”

I tipped my bowl to get the last Rice Krispies onto my spoon.

“Are you getting a divorce?”

“No, Rosie love, nothing like that. We’re just—your dad’s just moved out for a little while, that’s all. You know what it’s like when you fall out with a friend at school and you get cross with each other? Well, it’s a bit like that.”

“Miss Collins says we have to make up and say we’re sorry and if we don’t we might as well be back in the Infants.”

Mum started clearing the table and I got up to put my glass and bowl in the dishwasher.

“Yes.” Mum said, and she gave a funny sort of laugh. “Well, I suppose she’s right.”

Cassie came over. I told her what happened and about locking Scott out and she practically choked on her Bacardi.

“And he was literally kneeling on your front step, begging? God, I wish I’d seen that. Can’t get Derek down on his knees for love nor money, know what I mean?” She nudged me and cackled. She’s got a filthy mind, has Cassie.

I picked up the bottle of rum and nodded at her glass.

“Just keep it coming,” she said. “You must have scared the shit out of him. So, how long are you going to make him suffer? Hey—easy on the Coke. You don’t want to drown it.”

“Make him suffer? Hardly. He got off bloody lightly. I should have gone for his vitals with a cheese grater.”

She gave a sharp intake of breath.

“Nasty. You quiet ones are always the most vicious. But you are going to have him back, right?”

I shrugged.

“Not necessarily.”

“Oh, come on. You’re kidding? But, Gail—seriously, now.” She took my arm and turned to look into my eyes. She even put down her drink. “I mean, after all these years, you don’t want to throw all that away just for—well.”

“Just for a meaningless fling, you mean? You sound like Scott. You’re supposed to be on
my
side.”

“I
am.
Of course I am.”

“It’s not meaningless to me. And anyway, just because he keeps claiming it was only a fling doesn’t mean it was. I can’t trust a word he says. He could have been carrying on with her for years, or screwing a different woman every week for all I know. We’ve been together over fifteen years. Surely that should count for something? But it’s like it means absolutely nothing to him. Less than nothing.”

Cassie was shaking her head and reaching for the bottle again.

“Come on, you know that’s not true. The problem is you’re thinking like a woman.”

“Well … yes, strangely enough.”

“See, what you’re doing is imagining how you’d feel if you were to sleep with someone else. I bet you’d have to be madly in love with the guy, right?”

“I wouldn’t do it at all. I never would.”

“God, you’re annoying. Don’t you ever do anything wrong? Look, all I’m saying is, if you were to be unfaithful, it would mean that something pretty serious was going on …”

“Ye-es …”

“… whereas with Scott—like most men if you ask me—it doesn’t mean much more than he got lucky and he couldn’t bring himself to say no.”

“And that makes it all right in your book?”