Out of My Depth (37 page)

‘Hello,’ Patrick said, in a fuzzy voice. He walked as purposefully as he could up to their table. ‘Fancy meeting you two here.’

He ignored Roman and looked at his wife through narrowed eyes. She had to say the right thing now. She just had to. It could all still be all right, if she said the right thing. He implored her, silently.

‘Patrick!’ She was drunk, and effusive. ‘Help is at hand! We are saved! Pull up a chair.’ She waved her hand around vaguely. ‘We’ll get you a drink. Won’t we, Roman?’

Patrick stared at Roman.

‘Sure,’ he slurred. He lifted a hand for the waiter, and looked into his own glass. He looked at Amanda, and waved his empty glass at the man as he approached.

‘Trois, s’il vous plait,' he called. The man nodded. Patrick wondered whether he was imagining the faintly disgusted look on the waiter’s face.

‘C’mon,’ Amanda was saying. ‘Come and sit down. Nice of you to bail us out. Drink before we go. We’re just having one for the road.’

He barely recognised her. This woman was shouting. She was drunk, and she looked a mess. A strap of her dress had slipped down her arm and the top of her breast was exposed. Patrick suddenly felt brutal. The dress, he told himself viciously, did Amanda no favours. It was the kind of dress that would look marvellous on Tamsin or Susie. Amanda looked better when she dressed more conservatively. Her eye make-up was smeared on her cheek and her glass was imprinted with lipstick kisses. Patrick surreptitiously checked Roman’s face and collar. At least there was no lipstick on him.

‘Stop looking at me like that!’ Amanda barked. ‘C’mon, sit down.’

Patrick could not control himself. After thirteen years, his meekness evaporated. He reached for his wallet.

‘No,’ he said, calmly but firmly. ‘No, thank you, I won’t sit down. Look at yourself, Amanda. You are a disgrace and I am ashamed of you. This is my fault, because I’ve let things get to this point, but they are going no further. This is where it stops’

He took four crisp fifty euro notes and dropped them onto the table. He dropped Roman’s car keys down, and picked up his own, which were next to Amanda’s elbow. Then he turned and walked away. He was in awe of himself. Something was going to have to change, now.

It was raining hard by the time he found the hire car parked on the other side of the square. Amanda caught up with him as he was starting the engine.

‘Patrick!’ she said. With each drop of rain, she looked more of a wreck. Any façade of respectability was washed away. Passers-by were staring at her. He wound down his window.

‘Patrick, don’t be an arse,’ she hissed. ‘This was never meant to happen. We just got a bit carried away. It is a holiday. You’ve always begrudged me any fun.’

He considered the situation. ‘Get in,’ he said, because he didn’t want her being driven back through the country lanes by that drunken moron. She climbed in next to him and smiled.

‘So you forgive me?’ she asked, in a silly, girlish voice.

‘No, actually, I bloody don’t,’ he said. He couldn’t manage an angry voice. This was as scary as he got. ‘Sam nearly died. Our two were lost for the entire afternoon in a field of maize and were rescued by a passing farmer. I believe that Susie’s re-evaluating her relationship with your boyfriend back there. And you have made our whole family a laughing stock.’

She was scowling straight ahead. The rain was coming down faster, torrentially. The storm was crouching overhead, and Patrick hoped he would make it back before it burst. He hoped he could remember the way. He drove slowly, nervously, aware of his blood alcohol level.

‘You’re just no fun,’ she said, grumpily. ‘There’s no blasted fun in my life, that’s the bloody trouble. You can’t blame me if I find it elsewhere.’

Patrick considered his response as he edged out of the town and tried to remember which turning he ought to take. He knew that whatever he said now was going to be crucial. He had to tell her the truth. There was really nothing left for either of them to lose.

Except that mothers always got custody, and if they split up, he would hardly ever see his kids.

He took the turning, and drove, slowly, up a hill. The trees on either side of the road made a canopy over him, and kept the worst of the rain off the windscreen. He put the headlights on. Then he pulled over, and parked on a dirt track that led up into the woods. He stopped the engine and gathered his courage. His heart was thumping and he hoped his wife couldn’t see how scared he was.

‘Amanda,’ he said, hearing a quaver in his voice. Amanda. You are an alcoholic. It’s destroying everything. You need to get help.’

She stared at him. For a moment, he thought he saw the real Amanda looking out, scared, from inside her eyes. Then hostility snapped back into place.

‘I am not a fucking alcoholic,’ she slurred. ‘Speak for yourself, you old fart.’

‘Then,’ he said, ‘if you won’t take responsibility for yourself, I think we should separate. You can’t get tarted up and run off to expensive bars with your friend’s boyfriend, right under my nose, and expect everything to be all right. That is one humiliation too many, as far as I’m concerned. And I am out of here.’

He looked at her. She was shaking her head and smiling.

‘What?’ he demanded.

‘You don’t mean it, do you?’ she said, laughing maliciously. ‘What would you be, without me? A saddo single dad who never dared chat up a woman, is what. Living in some studio apartment, getting threatening letters from the CSA, lusting after women like Tamsin who wouldn’t give you the time of day, and seeing your kids every other Sunday if you’re lucky. Is that really what you want?’

He was icy. ‘No! What I want is for you to go to rehab. Because if you don’t I’m going to fight you every step of the way for custody, and I’ll tell you what, the way you are at the moment, I’d get it.’ He looked her in the eyes, amazed at how easy it was, now that he had started, to say it all.

‘You fucking would not, you bullying prick.’

‘I would. We both know you do the school run drunk. Every afternoon. Probably some mornings too — let’s be honest. You know the other mothers gossip behind your back. All I have to do is tip the police off and they’d come and breathalyse you and that would be that.’ He had no idea how much of this was true. He was desperate to get through to her. ‘I don’t want to break up the family,’ he said. The rain was falling down the windows in a solid mass. He thought they should get back to the house. It was completely dark.

‘Course you don’t,’ Amanda snarled. ‘You are such a fucking wanker. I wish I was married to Roman instead of you. You’re pathetic.’

Patrick started the engine up and pulled out, gingerly.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said, mildly. He was furious inside. ‘I hate you, too. In fact I wish I’d stayed with Melanie.’ He looked at her. ‘I was going to stay with her, you know. Rather than go out with you. But she dumped me.’

Amanda glared back. ‘Well, I wasn’t a virgin when we met. I’d had a two-year affair with a builder at school.’

Patrick smiled sadly. ‘And you think that surprises me?’

Izzy and I went downstairs. I was feeling bad about the spying we had done on Roman. There was nothing incriminating in his email account, apart from a few brief communications with his ex-wife. My French was good enough to see that there was nothing untoward going on there. Relief was tempered with the knowledge that I shouldn’t have done it. I felt he had got one over on me, somehow.

I glanced at Izzy. She looked contemplative. I hoped she was going to agree to my suggestion. I needed someone to do my accounts and run the business side of my life, but more than that, when Roman went, I was going to need a friend. I doubted I would stay in France for more than a couple of years, but with Izzy and Sam in the house, at least they wouldn’t be lonely years.

Tamsin and Freya were still sitting at the dining table. Freya was in pink pyjamas, with wet hair, and she looked exhausted.

‘Hey, you two,’ Tamsin said. ‘Patrick went off to rescue Roman and Amanda from somewhere. I didn’t quite get to grips with the story but he took Roman’s car.’

‘Do you know where they were?’ I asked. I didn’t really care, not now.

‘No. Not too far away, I don’t think. Sorry. I’m sure they’ll be back soon.’

‘Mmm. I suppose I should get dinner ready. Starters on the table, at least. If everyone will be back soon. Or perhaps they won’t be back soon after all. I don’t know’

‘Well, Jake and I are going to bed,’ said Freya.

I nodded at her. ‘Good idea.’ I remembered we shouldn’t be talking about her mother in front of her, anyway. ‘Sleep well. I’m sure you will after your adventure.’

‘Night night.’ She went up to Izzy and gave her a hug and a kiss. Izzy patted her back and kissed her cheek. I was jealous, but it didn’t occur to Freya to kiss me, so I didn’t embarrass us both by lunging. Jake appeared from the direction of the downstairs bathroom in a pair of short cotton pyjamas, wished us all a hurried good night, and followed his sister upstairs. We all let a reasonable amount of time go by, before Tamsin said what everyone was thinking.

‘How in Christ’s name did such a fucked-up marriage produce two such lovely children?’

I shook my head and widened my eyes. ‘It shouldn’t be possible.’

Izzy shrugged. ‘I think that for all her faults, Amanda is a reasonably good mother, actually. Or she was for long enough to give them a decent grounding. Plus, they’ve got each other and they’re quite a tight unit which must make it better. And actually, all that extra coaching and those ridiculous classes they go to probably stand them in good stead — gives them a social life and means they must only go home to sleep, really. I think they’re great. I feel sad for Sam that he’s destined to be an only. It’s lovely to see that sibling bond.’

I looked at her. ‘You never know.’

She returned my gaze. ‘You never know, either.’

I thought about it. ‘No,’ I said. ‘It depends on a lot of things.’

The phone rang again. I asked Izzy to get it and to tell Neil or Sarah Barron that I wasn’t speaking to them. She tried, capitulated, agreed to take a message, and nodded a couple of times before hanging up. Then she winced.

I looked at her.

‘Tell you later,’ she said. ‘It’s the last thing you need right now.’

We both turned our gazes to Tamsin. I stopped thinking about my bizarre clients, langoustines and new potatoes. The moment wasn’t going to get any better than this.

Izzy gave a slight nod.

‘What?’ demanded Tamsin, staring from me to Izzy and back again. ‘What are you two up to?’

I sighed. I was scared, and resigned. Izzy went into the kitchen. I sat down at the big dining table. It was pouring down, and nearly dark outside. I wondered whether many windows were open. They probably were. I stood up and closed all the ones I could see. Doing any more would be too distracting. I unplugged the phones, because I knew from experience that it was very possible for the telephone lines to be struck by lightning, and for any equipment that was plugged in to be destroyed.

I would not unplug Roman’s bastard computer. It could fry.

I sat back down. The table had been made especially for the room, because we hadn’t been able to find an antique one big enough and solid enough. The man who had made it had laughed and said we needed to have ten children to sit around it. Roman had said something sharp that I hadn’t understood and the man had shrugged and retreated, his cheque safely in his pocket.

Izzy was back with a bottle of champagne and three glasses.

‘This is not appropriate,’ she said. ‘But tonight was going to be champagne night, wasn’t it, Susie? So we may as well drink it.’

I nodded. ‘Yes.’

Tamsin was baffled. ‘Why inappropriate?’ she asked. ‘OK, there’s all this trouble with Amanda, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a nice drink. I’m not going to let Amanda spoil my evening, and we deserve champagne anyway, after what Izzy’s been through today. Let’s toast Sam.’

I sighed. I wasn’t scared any more. I wanted to get it over with. This was why I had asked them here.

‘Tamsin,’ I said. ‘We have to tell you something. The reason Amanda’s gone loopy is because she knew I was going to tell you and she didn’t want me to. And Izzy thinks I shouldn’t, but I’m going to anyway.’

Tamsin sighed and held up her glass. From the look on her face, I thought she had guessed, but then I told myself that was impossible.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘Well, cheers, anyway.’

‘Cheers,’ we said.

‘Tamsin,’ I began. ‘I need to tell you about the night of the ball.’

I shudder now to think of the way I tarted myself up that evening. Amanda and I planned our outfits weeks in advance. Mine was a shimmery blue dress that was two sizes too small, which must have shown off my enormous arse in all its glory. It was strapless, which could not have been flattering. My thighs spilled out from underneath it, and my legs were held up by pointed blue stilettos. I wore owlish eye make-up and some bright red lipstick, because I thought it was sexy. No wonder every boy I met assumed I was up for a shag. I must have looked like a street tart.