The Accidental Life of Greg Millar (42 page)

She looks hopeful. ‘Was it?’

‘Ye-es.’

‘Even though I’m only a kid?’

‘Especially because you’re a kid. A very smart, eloquent, tough-as-nails kid. You helped
so much
.’ And then I say it, for the very first time. ‘I love you.’

Her face lights up. ‘Me too.’

‘You love yourself, or you love me?’ I tease.

She laughs. ‘You.’

‘About bloody time.’ I squeeze her so tightly.

Then a little boy comes running up the corridor. Fast.

We’ll make him OK again
.
We’ll fill him with love and security.
He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

And then he’s in his father’s arms, and everyone’s laughing. Except for me. I’m crying – again.
Bloody hormones.
I look at our little family, back together, and, for the first time since this whole thing began, I want to go home.

Ben and Ruth arrive the following day when the kids are at school. There’s no sign of Hilary. I sincerely hope this means that we never see her again.

We show them into the sitting room, in silence.

‘We had to talk to you.’ Ben clears his throat. ‘To apologise.’ He looks at his wife, but Ruth hasn’t raised her eyes since she sat down. ‘It seems that we’ve made a mistake,’ he adds.

I feel like shouting,
A mistake?
Have you any idea what you’
ve done?

‘As soon as we heard that report being read out in court, we were most distressed. We believed, we
genuinely
believed that the children were in danger.’

‘You could have picked up the phone,’ Greg says. ‘You could have called to discuss it. That would have been the decent thing t
o do.’

‘With all due respect, you hadn’t been entirely straight with us in the past.’

‘And why might that be? You’d put anyone on the defensive, Ben, tearing over to France, questioning me as if I was on trial.’

‘We were worried.’

‘You were aggressive. There’s always this underlying threat with you. You don’t exactly get the best from people.’

‘That may be. Still, at the time, we took your word over
Hilary’s
. Imagine our shock, then, when we heard you on the radio confirming much of what she’d said. We assumed that there were oth
er thin
gs you couldn’t speak about publicly, other aspects . . . Well, things Hilary relayed to us.’

‘Like what, exactly?’

He pauses. ‘Well, you never hurt the children, did you, Greg?’

‘What do you mean,
hit
them?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘No, Ben, I did not.’ He is simmering with rage.

‘But why would Hilary have lied to us?’

For the first time, Ruth looks up, her eyes searching Greg’s.

‘The fact that we fired her may have had something to do with it,’ Greg says. ‘If you doubted me, why didn’t you ask the children?’

It is Ruth who speaks now. ‘We felt that they had been
damaged
enough.’

I know, right there and then, that she is the one behind all of this. She is the one who believed Hilary, who worried for the children, who nagged her husband to act.

‘We are so sorry, Greg, Lucy,’ she rushes. ‘We should have come to you. But we were afraid for the children. We felt we should act quickly. We truly believed they were in danger. And when they came to stay, they seemed so unhappy. We thought it was because they’d been damaged. Toby wetting his bed, Rachel so rebe
llious . . .’

‘They had been damaged,’ Greg says. ‘By being taken away from their family, their security.’

Tears fill her eyes, and she roots in her handbag for a tissue.

Ben takes over. ‘We know, now, that we were wrong. That’s why we came to apologise. We cannot apologise enough. We should have had more faith.’

Suddenly, I can’t stop myself. ‘Yes, Ben.
And
Ruth, actually. You should have had more faith in Greg, a man who, from the age of ten, raised his kid brother almost single-handedly. Who didn’t have to rely on posh schools and cosy networks to make his way. Whose wife broke his heart when she gambled with her life and lost, but who kept going because of his children. Greg Millar is a writer who is read by millions of people all over the world and who has managed not only to cope with bipolar disorder, but to be open about it as well, to risk his own career, his own happiness, to help others. If you can’t see that, then I feel sorry for you. I really do.’ I realise that, at some point, I’ve stood up, and that now I’m getting teary. ‘Anyway, I’ve said enough.’ I sit down, surprised by my outburst almost as much as my smiling husband seems to be.

‘I hope you won’t punish us,’ Ruth says. ‘I hope we can continue to see them.’

Ah!

‘You’re their grandparents,’ Greg says. ‘And, much as I’m tempted, I’d never deny them access to you. It might be a while, though, before they’re ready to visit. Especially Rachel.’

Ruth bows her head. ‘We understand.’

When they’re gone, Greg hugs me. ‘Thank you for making me sound amazing.’

I kiss him. ‘You
are
amazing.’

‘When you sum me up like that I
do
sound pretty amazing.’ He smiles. ‘Damn. I should have recorded you.’

45.

W
hat I hadn’t realised was that, while my imperfect family was falling back into place, a perfect one was falling apart.

‘I’m leaving Kevin,’ Grace announces to me, a week after Rachel and Toby have come home.

I look at her, thinking of the boys. ‘Grace, I know things have been difficult between you, but your relationship is so normal, so stable . . .’

‘Too normal. Too stable. I can’t breathe.’

‘But you’re the perfect couple . . .’

‘That’s the whole point. Nothing’s perfect enough for Kevin. Not me. Not the kids. Not the house. I’m suffocating. Dying.’

I don’t know what to say.

‘He’s so controlling. I’ve spent my life striving for perfection. I’m just so tired.’ She looks it, shoulders slumped, face drawn.

But I can’t let her give up. ‘I thought you liked things perfect.’

‘I thought I did, too. Until I had kids. I don’t want them to be like me, living up to other people’s expectations. I want them to b
e ki
ds, just plain, ordinary kids who’re allowed to get grubby, messy, be crabby, noisy. But that’s not what Kevin wants. Oh no. He wants them seen, not heard, in bed before he gets home, squeaky clean. I want real live boys with jam on their faces, scuffed shoes, mismatched socks, long hair. I want them to breathe.
I
want to breathe. Do what I want, when I want. Go out at night instead of staying in listening to him moan about other people so he can feel better about himself. I want to work. I want my life back. I’m tired of being held up to the light and checked for smudges. Have you any idea how hard it is to live with someone who always exp
ects more?’

‘Yes.’ We grew up with the same mother – a mother who has changed, but who Grace substituted with Kevin.

‘You know the funny thing?’ Grace asks. ‘You always envied me, but I envy you. You’ve always done your own thing. Gone to art college. Married a man you loved despite the challenges; challenges you’ve got through together. You’re so lucky.’

I smile, still bruised by all that has happened.

‘And what did I do? Married a man who was perfect on paper.’

‘A lot of people would think that I made a mistake.’

‘Well, they’d be wrong. Look how it’s worked out. And do you know why it has? Because you married for the right reason, the only reason to marry – love.’

‘I’m sure there are millions of people who married for love and it didn’t work out. I’m sure there are millions of people who would advise against marrying for love.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you what I’d advise against – marrying for logic. If I was to do it all again, I’d go for passion, risk, adventure.’

‘It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.’

‘If I stay in this marriage, I’ll die. I will. I’m not going to let it happen. I’m too young. The first time I saw you with Greg,
I kn
ew I’d made a mistake. I’ve never had that passion. There’s no way Kevin and I would have got through what you have. We’re together, but we’re not a couple. He does his thing, and we fit around that.
I nee
d to be with a man who notices I’m there – for the right
reasons
.
I n
eed passion in my life. I need a life.’

I’m coming round.

‘I’ve learned so much from what you’ve been through. When you asked for my help with Greg, I realised just how much I missed being a doctor. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. And I’m not doing it. How could I have given that up? I wanted to be the perfect wife, the perfect mother. But I’ve only made myself unhappy. I ca
n’t hi
de it any more. I’m too tired. I’m thirty-three, but I feel eighty-three. And that won’t change unless I change it.’ She takes a deep breath. ‘I’m going to ask Kevin for a separation.’

‘What about Shane and Jason?’

She looks heartbroken. Her voice wobbles. ‘My little men.’ Her eyes well, and she looks up and blinks to try to clear her tears. ‘Shane and Jase are the only reason I’ve kept going so long. I don’t want their mum to be separated from their dad. But their mum is me. And their dad is Kevin. And I can’t do that any more. I want to be as fair as I can, to sit down and talk it through with Kevin.
I wan
t him to see them any time he likes. We can even live close to each other, if he wants. I’ll keep them in the same school, keep as much the same as I can . . .’

‘What about counselling?’

‘Can counselling make you love a person you never did? Can counselling do anything when you’ve married the wrong man?
I hav
e to do this, Lucy.’

I nod, take her hand and squeeze it. ‘Well, then, I’m here. Round the clock. You know that.’

‘I know.’

I wait until Saturday, when everyone’s sitting down to breakfast.
I stan
d at the head of the table. Clear my throat. ‘I’ve an announcement to make.’

They all look up, stop chewing, cereal bulging in Toby’s cheeks.

‘Well, I’ve two.’

Greg looks astonished.

‘Firstly, I just want to say how great it is for us all to be back
together.’ I close my eyes. ‘So, so great.’ Already, I’m getting
emotional
.

‘Hear, hear,’ says Greg. I can tell he’s wondering what the
second
announcement is.

‘The second announcement is also a family announcement, which is why I’m telling everyone together. Because . . . We’re going to have an addition to the family.’ I raise my eyebrows an
d smile.

Greg pales.

Rachel says, ‘Oh my God.’

Toby asks, ‘Are we getting a dog?’

Greg is suddenly standing. ‘Are you sure?’

I nod, and am so, so relieved when he smiles, comes over and takes me in his arms.

‘What is it? What’s going on?’ asks Toby.

We turn back to the children.

‘Lucy’s having a baby,’ says Rachel.

Toby’s mouth drops open, as if to say, ‘How did
that
happen?’

I smile at him. ‘A baby brother or sister for you.’

I wait for someone to qualify that with the word ‘half’.

Instead, Toby puts in a request. ‘I want a brother.’

‘And I want a sister,’ says Rachel.

A minor battle breaks out.

I turn to Greg. ‘Are you OK with this?’ I ask quietly.

He slips his arms around my waist. ‘More than OK,’ he says softly. ‘Much more than OK.’ He kisses my forehead and draws me into a hug. And as I lean into him and let my body relax, over his shoulder I see, fluttering in through the open window, a bright blue butterfly. It makes its way towards us as though dancing on air, and I smile, because it feels like a blessing: I have been given anot
her fut
ure.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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