School Run (46 page)
Alison stood up, brushing herself down (when was this room last vacuumed?). ‘Don’t be so rude, Julia.’
‘Jules,’ said both David and daughter together.
At times like this, it felt as though they were in unison against her! They’d always been close, those two. Something, her sister Caroline had observed drily, to do with being the youngest child. Why was it that certain people who didn’t have kids, considered themselves to be experts?
‘You need to do something for yourselves, when she’s gone,’ her sister had advised bossily the other week. (Caroline was the kind of person, David often said, who insisted on making her own tea because no one else could do it the way she wanted.) ‘It’s all very well booking theatre tickets but you need to do something more physical. Not golf – too obvious. How about abseiling? One of my clients runs an extreme sports company. I could probably get you a free introductory lesson.’
The thought made Alison smile as she reluctantly yanked the jumpers out of the drawer and began packing them back into one of the three suitcases they had brought up. As if David would ever go abseiling!
At times, Alison wondered where the happy-go-lucky man, whom she’d married, had gone. True – she hadn’t been much older than Julia when they’d got married! David had been barely twenty three and still articled. How, she often wondered, had they managed after she’d found herself pregnant, barely six months after the wedding? Yet they had, even though Ross’s ‘carrycot’ had been a pulled-out drawer lined with blankets.
Quickly, very quickly, they had fallen into the conventional role play which you hardly saw nowadays. One where she was at home, bringing up the kids and, when they were finally at school, doing…well, not very much to be honest. Occasionally she wished she’d gone to uni like her clever older sister so she could ‘do something’ now. But on the whole, she liked it. Enjoyed looking after their home (she actually liked polishing the parquet floors!); doing a leisurely school run without having to rush off to the office like some of the other mums; playing tennis a couple of times a week; doing her pilates (Wednesday afternoons) or the watercolour class (Thursday mornings).
As for David, he had fairly shimmied up the career ladder of the firm where he’d been articled. So much so that he’d been the natural replacement as Senior Partner. Not too bad, thought Alison, with a warm glow of satisfaction. Not too bad at all. And although it would be a terrible wrench with their daughter gone, it would at least give them time to be together as a couple again. Rather exciting, really!
‘Aren’t you going now?’
Jules stood there, arms folded, her reddish dark hair framing her face with its jagged do-it-yourself hair cut. (What other natural blonde would purposefully dye her hair?) But there was something odd in her face too. And not just that extra silver stud which had appeared on her right ear in the last week, to match the four that were already there. No. It was a certain look. A look that said ‘I’m scared’.
Alison’s chest lurched. ‘Wouldn’t you like us to stay and help you make friends?’
‘Make friends?’ Jules rolled her eyes. ‘For fuck’s sake, Mum. I’m not six any more.’
David already had his hand on her arm. It felt reassuring. ‘Come on, Alison. Let’s leave Jules to it. She’s got Freshers Week ahead. Remember?’ He grinned at his daughter. ‘You’ll soon make friends there. I still remember mine!’
Alison felt a funny pang; one that she’d had before every time her husband mentioned university or when Jules reminded her that despite all her nagging about the importance of getting grades, Alison herself had never been to uni. But not everyone did in her day and besides, as her mother had said, what was wrong with a good secretarial course?
‘Have you got everything?’ Alison still couldn’t bring herself to go. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed with the desire to keep her daughter safe. To make sure she handed in those essays on time. How on earth would she manage without her mother nagging and telling her to log off?
‘Yes, Mum.’ Jules was almost pushing her out of the door now.
‘Money.’ Alison shot a panicky glance at David. ‘You did transfer enough into her bank account, didn’t you?’
He nodded almost wearily. Of course he had. David was reliable. Stolid in his tweed jacket and ‘weekend’ brown cords. Logical. Organised.
‘Well don’t spend too much. Or drink too much. And if you put your glass down, even for a minute, unattended, you mustn’t drink out of it in case it’s spiked. And…’
David was whispering into her ear. ‘She knows all this, Alison. Give her a break or she won’t want us to come up and visit.’
‘So you don’t want to come to the car park to see us off?’
Jules shook her head. ‘It might upset me,’ she said quietly. ‘Please go, Mum.’
So she did care! Instantly, Alison drew her daughter to her hugging her tightly.
‘Love you, Mum,’ Jules whispered.
Alison’s eyes pricked with tears. ‘I love you too darling.’
‘Call us when you’re ready,’ said David gruffly.
She knew that tone. He was as upset as she was but was grown up enough not to show it. And she needed to be the same; act the adult. To remind herself that she was fifty (only just!) and not nineteen.
The drive back was silent apart from the radio. Some author she’d vaguely heard of was being interviewed about her latest novel. ‘Now my mother is dead, I can write about her,’ she was saying coolly.
Was that how Jules felt? Alison glanced across at David’s handsome profile with the slight kink in his nose from a long-ago rugby accident, wanting to ask, but his face was set. That was something else she’d learned over the years. When he didn’t want to talk, it wasn’t wise to interrupt his thoughts. Clearly this was as difficult for him as for her.
‘Do you think she’ll be all right?’ she ventured just outside Birmingham when they were an hour from home.
He’d nodded curtly. ‘Course she will.’
But it was so weird to drive back with just the two of them when not so long ago, they had hardly gone anywhere without four in the car! So odd to unlock the heavy oak front door into the hall with its Edwardian table (inherited from David’s mother) and wander into the kitchen overlooking the neat, square, laurel-framed garden, without Jules pushing sullenly past.
Still, change was always odd. There had been something about it on
Woman’s Hour
only this week. About how you would naturally miss the children when they went to uni but that it was a time to find yourself. Look at the advantages, the presenter had raved. No more arguments! No more nagging about homework. No more ‘What time do you call this?’
Thank goodness for Mungo! ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, burying her face in his neck as the dog lumbered towards her, as though to say ‘Glad you’re back but what time do you call this?’ He stood for a while, nuzzling her back and then wobbled back to his basket by the Aga. No need for a wee outside, she observed. He’d made full use of the terracotta-tiled kitchen floor. Poor thing! It was his age, the vet had warned – something else she didn’t like to think about.
After clearing up (David had headed to the study as usual to check his emails) she went upstairs. The house was so quiet! ‘Don’t go into her room,’ Caroline had advised. ‘Not for a couple of days. It will seem too upsetting. A client of mine has just written a book on this empty nest lark. Remind me to show you the proofs.’
Too late she realised her childless sister had been right for once. Everywhere, were reminders of Jules. Discarded jeans and t-shirts on the Habitat bed. Posters on the walls. Tubes of foundation, strewn over the dressing table which her daughter had painted black during her Goth stage. CDs without covers. Jules was there and yet she wasn’t.
‘David,’ she began, running down the stairs towards his study for comfort. More than anything now, she just wanted to feel his arms around her. ‘I’ve just been in Julia’s room and...’
Her eyes fell on the dark green suitcase in the hall. ‘Did we forget that one?’ A wonderful feeling of usefulness rushed through her. ‘I could take it up when you’re at work tomorrow!’
David shook his head, his eyes fixed steadily on hers. ‘It’s mine.’
‘Yours? You didn’t tell me you had another trip.’
‘I don’t.’
He was looking at her strangely now. Rather like Jules had looked at her in the hall earlier today. Only now did she realise he had his coat on. His grey tweed that she’d always liked; the one that smelt warm and David-y when she took it from him every evening and hung it on the rack in the hall.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m leaving, Alison.’ His eyes were still fixed on hers, unwavering. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. I’m sorry. I’ve been wanting to go for years. But I needed to wait until Jules left. Until I’d fulfilled my responsibilities.’
The words chopped stiffly out of his mouth as though he was at a meeting. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘There’s enough money in the bank to see you through for a few months until we can work out the practicalities. And please don’t ring. I’ll call when I’m ready to sign the papers.’
The papers?
He was looking at her now as though she was an idiot. ‘The divorce papers, Alison. I want a divorce.’
Find out what happens next in
Divorce for Beginners
, available exclusively as an ebook from autumn 2012.
Sophie King brings us another witty and heart-warming story of likeable characters you'll recognise from everyday life. Lizzie, Alison, Karen and Ed are all coming to terms with life, and love, after marriage. Whatever your own love life is like, you'll find yourself rooting for them to find happiness as you laugh and cry along with all four.
As Lizzie juggles running a failing women's magazine with bringing up a young family she ponders on whether you really can “have it all”. The answer comes sooner than she expects when her husband's actions turn her world upside down...
Alison should be looking forward to a quieter life with David now that their youngest has flown the nest. But David has other ideas and his increasingly bizarre behaviour leaves Alison wondering if she really knows her husband at all...
Karen has managed to hold her family together since Paul walked out on them many years before. That makes her the perfect person to start The Divorce Club to help others on their own. But as the burden of past secrets unravels, Karen realises she needs help too.
Ed really believes in marriage. So much so that he's done it three times already. But as his work and home life get ever more complicated, will he ever be able to find “the One”...
Add in an overbearing sister, a troublesome half-brother, the surprise return of faces from the past, grown up kids with their own problems, and ageing parents who've discovered the ups (and downs) of internet dating and you have a gripping and entertaining tale of modern life as our foursome struggle with... Divorce for Beginners.
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About the author
Sophie King (also writing as Janey Fraser) is a journalist and novelist. She has had seven novels published, including
The Wedding Party
(2010), which was short listed for the RNA Love Story of The Year. Sophie's first short story collection
Tales from the Heart
, was published in July 2012. Her latest novel
Divorce For Beginners
is published by Corazon Books in autumn 2012.
Sophie has also written numerous non-fiction books including
Family Memories
(a series of children’s books);
How To Write Short Stories For Magazines And Get Published
;
How To Write Your First Novel
;
How To Write Your Life Story
;
Tidy Your Room! How to get kids to do jobs they hate
;
Everything a Parent Needs to know before their Child goes to University
; and
Everything a Parent Needs to know before their Child goes to Secondary school
.
In between novels, Sophie writes short stories and has had hundreds published in magazines such as
Woman’s Weekly
and
My Weekly
. She also gives regular talks/workshops at bookshops and literary festivals including Winchester and Guildford. Until her recent move to Devon, she tutored at Oxford University and West Herts College. For three years, she was writer in residence at HMP Grendon, a high-security male prison. She has also appeared several times on breakfast television and
Woman’s Hour
, including a Christmas programme on rivalry in the kitchen!
In 2005, she won the Elizabeth Goudge Short Story Trophy and was a runner up in the Harry Bowling Prize. Sophie is a member of the Romantic Novelists Association; Women in Journalism; the Society of Women Writers and Journalists and the National Union of Journalists.
