Lessons in Heartbreak (25 page)

Thanks to her binoculars, she’d seen his head hang low on his chest when the rescue plan had failed, and she felt a pang of sorrow at having been so nasty to him the time they’d met. He did care about the whale, after all.

‘You know, I think I might have another muffin,’ Beth decided. ‘I’ve been reading up on pregnancy food and muffins are really good for giving you your energy back. Milk’s good too, I’m drinking lots of milk. And then maybe we’ll go and see Lily. I don’t want to stay too long,’ Beth confided. ‘I don’t know if I could cope with it. I don’t think it would be good for the baby if I got upset, but I need to say goodbye to her.’

‘OK,’ said Anneliese, feeling her heart break. She didn’t want Lily to go. But everything was changing in her life and it was as if she had no power to prevent it all.

She thought of the whale, lost in the bay, life ebbing out of her every day, and thought that it might be quite nice to dive in and sink to the bottom with the whale.

‘Mrs Kennedy,’ said Dr Whelan, looking up from his writing as she entered the surgery. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘A lobotomy,’ Anneliese said easily. ‘I just need a bit off. A trim, so to speak. It would be nice if you could do that with
brains, take out the tricky, difficult bits, like removing split ends.’

The doctor put down his pen. He was younger than she was, which Anneliese liked. Younger doctors were always up to speed on the latest treatment. Old Dr Masterson had been a nightmare when it came to talking about depression. Despite the alphabet of letters after her name, she was one of the ‘pull yourself together’ merchants who felt that depression was entirely controllable by thinking happy thoughts. Anneliese had ended up moving to another doctor in the centre of town rather than visit her, but then Dr Whelan had come along. He’d been in Tamarin for ten years and in that time, Anneliese had visited him twice over her depression. He’d been friendly, helpful and kind. But none of these things made it any easier to discuss her problems with him.

If Anneliese felt like a failure because her head was flattened by this black dog in her mind, then it was hard to convince herself that he would feel any different.

‘Lobotomies aren’t much in demand nowadays,’ he replied, falling into the same light manner she’d used. ‘Certainly not on an out-patient basis,’ he added. ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Kennedy?’

Anneliese closed her eyes. She hated this, hated it. Being the supplicant in the surgery, having to ask for help.

‘I’m depressed,’ she said. The desire to burst into tears was dampened down by the tranquilliser she’d taken before she’d driven there. It was her last one. ‘I need to go back on antidepressants.’

Damn Edward and that bloody bitch for making her have to do this.

‘Is there any particular reason?’ Dr Whelan asked, joking manner gone.

The little white tablet gave up the ghost and the tears came.

Half an hour later, Anneliese had a prescription for the antidepressant that had worked for her before, along with a short-term script for an anti-anxiety drug to tide her over until the big boys began to work.

‘Come and talk to me anytime, please,’ Dr Whelan said kindly as she’d left, trying to mop up her red eyes before she headed back into the reception area.

‘Thank you,’ said Anneliese, knowing that she wouldn’t. She felt as if nothing could help her, even the various tablets he’d prescribed. They were short-term things. She wanted a guarantee of happiness and she didn’t know if that was possible any more.

At home, she made herself some tea, took one of the anti-anxiety drugs, and lay down on her bed. Her head ached from all the crying. Perhaps if she had a little rest, she’d have the energy to get up and cook dinner for herself, Beth and Marcus. They were going home the following morning and had been at the hospital with Lily that afternoon, giving Anneliese a chance to make her secret trip to Dr Whelan. She hadn’t told Beth how she felt and Beth hadn’t asked.

It was understandable: Beth wanted to protect her unborn child from stress. Any mother would do the same. But still, Anneliese felt a part of her ache inside at this evidence of her daughter’s ability to shut out other people’s pain.

Beth didn’t want to deal with her mother crying and alone, so she simply didn’t deal with it.

Lying down with several pillows cushioning her and the duvet loosely over her, Anneliese looked around the room. Maybe she should sell up. It was a beautiful cottage but it held too many memories for her now. It wasn’t as if she could redecorate it and make it different. As a beach cottage, it was perfect the way it was, all bleached wood, white walls and pale blue detailing. No, she couldn’t decorate it and change it. Selling was the only option. She ought to talk to Edward about
it – well, talk to Edward’s lawyer. That would be next she supposed: his lawyer talking to her lawyer. She didn’t have a lawyer. There hadn’t been much call in her life for legal help, but she’d have to get one now. Not from Tamarin, of course. Even if the lawyer was the very model of discretion, still Anneliese winced at the thought of somebody local knowing everything about her and Edward’s break-up.

She could imagine it. Nell, sitting in a lawyer’s office, crouched like a witch on her chair, saying: ‘No, Edward, make sure you get half of everything – more than half.’

Anneliese shuddered. She’d get a lawyer in Waterford and let them deal with it. She’d say she wanted it done as simply and cleanly as possible, like amputation. Cut the limb off, cauterise it and walk away. But where would she go then? Would she stay in Tamarin? If Lily wasn’t there, she probably wouldn’t and Lily might not survive.

It had been over a week since her stroke and it was time to face facts. Lily might never come back and the more Anneliese visited her, the more she thought that Lily was getting older and frailer and more distant in the bed.

She could move to Dublin to be close to Beth and Marcus and her beautiful grandchild, but that might be crowding Beth; it wouldn’t be fair.

Her family home had been the other side of Waterford, but her parents were long dead and her brothers and sisters were scattered all around the country and the globe. There was no one place to call home any more, except Tamarin. When she’d married Edward, Anneliese had made this place her home.

God, the tablets were great, she thought sleepily. They allowed her mind to roam into areas she’d previously locked off. Which had to be good – or was it bad?

She closed her eyes, allowed herself to stop thinking about what she’d do next, and somehow she fell asleep.

The sound of a car crunching up on the stones on the drive woke her up. Beth was back. She should have been cooking and she’d fallen asleep. Blast it.

She threw back the duvet and looked out of the window, only there were two cars parking, Beth and Marcus’s car and Edward’s.

Anneliese’s chest tightened. She couldn’t cope with Edward right now. Clearly this was some idea of Beth’s to bring him here and make him talk to Anneliese. But Edward and Anne-liese didn’t want to talk to each other. They’d had two weeks to do it and neither of them had so much as picked up a phone to speak to the other. There was simply nothing to be said and too much pain would emerge during the saying of that nothing.

Anxiously, Anneliese pulled on her sweatshirt and jeans.

‘Mum,’ said Beth from the door of the bedroom. ‘Mum, I know you’re not going to like this, but…’

‘I saw your father’s car,’ Anneliese said. ‘Beth, this isn’t a good idea.’

‘Mum, please.’ Beth came into the room and sat on the bed. ‘Please.’

‘I’m not able for this.’

‘But talking is good, Mum, and you haven’t spoken to each other since he left, Dad told me.’

‘So?’ snapped Anneliese, feeling suddenly angry. ‘What is there to talk about? That he’s sorry and can we all be friends and do this amicably? I can guess what he wants to talk to me about, and I don’t want to listen. Once upon a time, he told me he loved me, and all the time he was involved with Nell. So frankly, I’m not interested in anything your father has to tell me.’

Beth looked taken aback. Anneliese knew she should apologise. It wasn’t her daughter’s fault, after all, and she never spoke to Beth like that, but she was fed up with
considering everyone else’s feelings before her own. That was the old Anneliese.

‘Beth,’ said Anneliese firmly, ‘I do not want to talk to your father. Now get him out of my house.’

‘Please, Mum.’ Beth’s eyes filled up with tears.

She looked so forlorn and Anneliese knew at that moment that she’d have to go down to talk to Edward.

‘How did you get him here?’ she asked.

‘I told him to do it for me. He didn’t want to come, but I know if the two of you would just talk to each other, it would help.’

Anneliese raised her eyes to heaven. She knew that Edward, like herself, could never deny their daughter anything. Even now when Anneliese couldn’t bear the thought of being in the same room as Edward, she knew she would endure that because it would make Beth happy.

Nobody else would be able to make her do it. They were hardly at the family-mediation stage, unless mediation involved throwing kitchen implements and screaming blue murder. Oh well, she’d talk to him for five minutes, that was all. Anneliese glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild and her face tired. She looked like she looked when she came in from a wild, windy walk on the beach, except that then she might have some glow in her cheeks and now she just looked drained. There was no point primping or beautifying. Edward had gone. He’d hardly come back just because she was wearing lipstick.

‘I’m ready,’ she said.

‘But your hair…’ began Beth.

‘My hair’s ready too,’ said Anneliese grimly.

Downstairs, Edward was standing just inside the front door, looking anxious. Sitting down on one of the armchairs was Marcus, looking more anxious. Anneliese was very fond of her son-in-law. He was kind and gentle as well as being a clever,
thoughtful man. He probably thought it was an appalling idea to see his in-laws turning out-law and screaming at each other in the same room, but Marcus was another one who would do anything for Beth. She’d undoubtedly twisted his arm too to make him go along with this crackpot plan.

‘Do you want to come in?’ Anneliese said to her husband.

‘I wanted to wait until you invited me in properly,’ Edward said formally.

‘I think the time for formality is over,’ she snapped.

Edward sat on the edge of the armchair opposite Marcus.

‘Come on, darling – let’s go for a walk on the beach,’ said Beth, grabbing Marcus and hauling him to his feet.

‘Yeah, sure. We’ll be just outside if you need us,’ Marcus said, shooting anguished looks at both Edward and Anneliese.

Anneliese felt the faint stirrings of a grin.

‘I’m not going to kill him,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I’ll just rough him up a little bit, OK?’

Beth hustled Marcus out of the front door before he could respond to this.

‘I’m really sorry about my turning up, Anneliese,’ said Edward, still formal. ‘It’s just, Beth insisted.’

‘I know,’ said Anneliese. ‘I understand, not your fault.’

‘You’re being very magnanimous,’ Edward said.

‘I’m not magnanimous at all,’ Anneliese replied. ‘I’m just tired and I don’t have the energy for gilding the lily. We’re here because we love Beth, she’s pregnant and we don’t want to upset her.’

‘Isn’t it wonderful news,’ Edward said eagerly and then stopped, as if he suddenly remembered that they weren’t normal would-be grandparents discussing their imminent grandchild. Anneliese thought the same thing.

She’d allowed herself to think about how she and Edward would react to the news that Beth was having a baby and this scenario had never figured in her imaginings.

‘It is wonderful,’ Edward went on, ‘that something nice is coming out of all of this.’

‘You talk like there has just been a natural disaster and none of us are responsible for it,’ Anneliese snapped. ‘There’s nothing natural about it at all. You cheated on me, left me for Nell. Nell! For God’s sake, how could you do that, Edward? Nell was our friend. I used to feel guilty inviting her over all the time, in case you were fed up of there being a third wheel at dinner. How stupid of me: you loved having her here. I was probably the one you wanted to get rid of.’

‘No, it wasn’t like that,’ Edward said.

‘Well, what was it like? You know, now that you’re here, you can answer some questions.’

She sat on the edge of one of the chairs opposite him and glared at him.

‘When did you start screwing my friend? Please tell me – not that I expect you’re going to tell me the truth,’ she went on. ‘Because you won’t, will you? That’s one of the rules of infidelity, isn’t it?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she argued. ‘You make it sound like it was only going on five minutes and then, eventually, I’ll learn you’ve been together months, years, so that everything I thought was real wasn’t real at all. Talk about a recipe for making someone go mad. That’s what I keep doing, Edward: thinking of the past and what bits were real and what bits involved you faking happiness so you could spend more time with Nell.’

Anneliese slipped into the seat properly. She’d intended to sit on the edge in case she wanted to run out of the room because she couldn’t stand to look at him any longer, but the weariness came over her again.

‘Were you together at Beth’s wedding, for example?’

‘No,’ he shouted.

‘Well, when then? Christmas?’

He didn’t answer.

‘OK,’ said Anneliese. ‘Christmas then: you were together at Christmas. So when before Christmas did it start? Just tell me, so that I can draw a line under the time you were with her and remember the memories before that, because they were real. I hope they were real.’

Another thought occurred to her. Had there been somebody else, other women? A man who could cheat once, could have cheated before.

‘Was there anyone else, before Nell?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘There was never anyone else. I wish you didn’t think that of me –’

‘You mean you wish I didn’t think badly of you,’ Anneliese interrupted. ‘How can I not think badly of you, Edward? You cheated on me. If our marriage was so terrible, you should have told me. You could have given me a choice. But you didn’t. You played a game, where you stayed with me and waited for someone else to come along.’