The Marriage Mender (17 page)

‘You disgust me,’ Josh said.

‘Maybe if you hadn’t been so busy shagging your little girlfriend you wouldn’t have blown me out, and it would never have happened,’ she shouted.

‘Is that what this is about?’ I asked. ‘Are you jealous of her?’

‘What, some prissy little schoolgirl?’

Josh lurched towards Lydia. I managed to grab hold of him.

‘Leave it,’ I said. ‘Caitlin’s worth a hundred of her.’

‘Very touching, you sticking up for her,’ said Lydia.

‘You hate the fact that she’s had a relationship with Josh for longer than you’ve ever managed to, don’t you?’

Lydia rushed at me. It was only the combination of her drunk state and Josh’s intervention that stopped her pushing me to the ground.

As I regained my balance, I saw two cycle helmets bobbing in and out between the bushes. I tried to gesture at Chris to carry on down the lane, but if he did see me he was too distracted by Lydia to take any notice. He jumped off his bike, checked that Matilda was safely on the pavement and came marching up the path.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘She was just leaving,’ I said.

Lydia turned to Chris and smiled, went to put her arm around his shoulders. He pushed her away and she staggered backwards a few steps. Matilda had got off her bike and was standing at the front gate, looking between me and Lydia and back again, seemingly unable to move. I ran into the garden, grabbed her hand and hurried her into the hall with an instruction to go and put a DVD on.

‘That’s right,’ said Lydia. ‘Protect that precious little daughter of yours. We wouldn’t want her hearing anything untoward, would we now?’

‘Get out of here,’ said Chris. ‘I told you not to come anywhere near my family.’

‘I know, but my son wanted to see me, didn’t he? And I didn’t want to let him down.’

Chris spun round to face Josh. ‘Is this true?’ he said.

Josh nodded, swallowing hard.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Chris.

‘I thought it would be OK. I thought she’d changed.’

‘You never learn, do you? You wouldn’t listen to me.’

Josh looked down at his feet. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘How long has this been going on?’ asked Chris.

Josh glanced at me. I was complicit in this. There was blood on my hands. It was simply that Chris couldn’t see it.

‘About a month,’ said Josh. ‘She’s been fine. She hasn’t been anywhere near the house. Until today.’

Chris turned to Lydia. ‘Why are you here?’ he asked.

‘I came to explain a little misunderstanding.’

‘She slept with Tom,’ said Josh, his voice cold and hard.

Chris looked at Lydia, then at me.

I nodded.

He turned back to Lydia. ‘And I thought you couldn’t sink any lower.’

‘I didn’t know who he was.’

‘You have a son the same age, for fuck’s sake.’

‘That’s it, play the dutiful father,’ she said.

‘Well, it’s a bit of luck one of us takes our responsibilities seriously, isn’t it?’

‘Shame he’s not yours to be responsible for,’ snapped Lydia.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘Oh, forget it,’ she said, starting to walk away.

Chris grabbed her arm. ‘No, I won’t forget it. Why did you say that?’

‘You want to know?’ asked Lydia. ‘You really want me to tell you, in front of him?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘He’s not even your fucking son, Chris.’

The words circled around my head, trying desperately to find a way in. I wouldn’t let them, though. Nor would anyone else. They hung heavily in the air in front of us all. The colour had drained from Josh’s face. His mouth was slightly open.

‘You’re lying,’ said Chris.

‘Why would I lie about it?’

‘Because you’re drunk and you’ve lost your son and you’re lashing out at everyone around you.’

‘Fine, then. Don’t believe me, if you don’t want to.’ She started to walk away.

‘It’s not true,’ said Josh. ‘Say it isn’t true.’

‘I wish I could,’ Lydia said.

‘You’re saying he’s not my father?’

She nodded.

‘So who is?’

She looked down. If it was possible to appear embarrassed in such an inebriated state, Lydia gave a very good impression of what that would look like.

‘He was a drummer in a band. Not a famous band. Just one that was doing some gigs in local clubs.’

‘What was his name?’ asked Josh.

She kept looking down. ‘I can’t remember. It was just a … you know … a one-night thing.’

‘You’re lying,’ Chris said again.

She shook her head.

‘So why have you never once said that before?’ he asked. ‘Why did you walk out and leave your baby with some guy who wasn’t even his father?’

‘Because I knew you’d be a bloody good father,’ said Lydia. ‘A much better father than I would ever have been a mother.’

The words were seeping in now. Not only into my head but into everyone else’s. I could almost see them flowing through Josh’s body like some radioactive dye. I looked at Josh’s face and back to Chris’s, searching for the similarities which I had always thought were there.

Chris saw me do it. Realised that if I was doubting, Josh must be doubting too.

‘Tell me it’s not true,’ said Josh, his voice shaking.

Lydia shook her head. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

Josh screwed his eyes up but he couldn’t stop the tears from bursting through.

‘Go!’ Chris shouted at Lydia. ‘Get out of here and take your pathetic lies with you.’

‘Fine,’ said Lydia. ‘Believe what you want to believe. I don’t care.’ She turned and staggered down the path.

I put my arm around Josh. ‘Don’t take any notice of her,’ I said. ‘She’s drunk. She had no idea what she was saying.’

‘Yes, she did,’ said Josh, gulping down air between the sobs. ‘She told me she’d slept with my best mate, and that
he
is not my dad.’ He was pointing at Chris as he said it.

He may as well have been aiming a gun; the words hurt far more than any bullet could.

‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go inside and we can sit down and talk about this.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about, is there?’ said Josh. ‘She’s said it all. And now I haven’t got a mother, or a father, or a best mate.’

‘It’s not true,’ I said. ‘You heard what your dad said. She’s telling lies.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t know who to believe any more,’ said Josh. ‘My whole life is a fucking mess.’

He pulled away from me and ran up the stairs, slamming his bedroom door behind him. Chris was standing next to me, his face ashen, the shock still reverberating in
his eyes. And I turned round to see Matilda standing in the doorway of the lounge, tears streaming down her face. Still with her bloody cycle helmet on.

My family was imploding. I had to choose to go to one of them first.

I chose Matilda. I ran to her, unclipped the chin strap of her helmet, tossed it on to the floor and hugged her, letting her empty her tears into me.

‘Why is everyone shouting again?’ she wailed.

‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘Josh’s mum said a lot of bad things, but it’s OK, she’s gone now.’

‘Josh was shouting too.’

‘I know. She upset him.’

‘Is she coming back?’

‘No.’

‘You said that before. You said you wouldn’t invite her again.’

‘She wasn’t invited, love. She just came.’

Matilda clung on harder to me. I wasn’t sure what she’d heard. What she’d understood. What she hadn’t understood.

‘You mustn’t take any notice of what she said. She’d been drinking. She said a lot of things which weren’t true.’

I held her tight, stroked her hair. Waited for the sobs to subside a little.

‘Now, what DVD were you watching?’ I asked.

‘
Brave
.’

‘Right, well that’s exactly what I want you to be. Let’s go and sit down.’

I took her back into the lounge, sat her on the sofa and pressed ‘play’ on the remote. It was before the bit where her mother turns into a bear, which I was glad of. I’d never understood why they’d done that, anyway.

‘Now, you start watching it. And when I’ve checked on Josh, I’ll come back and watch it with you, OK?’

She gave a little nod. I hated having to leave her so soon, but there were other wounded soldiers in the field hospital.

I found Chris in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

‘Come here,’ I said, putting my arm around him.

He didn’t move. His body remained rigid. ‘What if she wasn’t lying?’ he asked.

‘She was.’

‘You’re sure about that, are you?’

‘Chris, he’s your son. He’s more like you than you are sometimes.’

‘He doesn’t look like me, though. Not really.’

‘You don’t look much like your mum.’

He stared at me. His body shook. He banged the table with his fist. ‘She had no right. She had no fucking right to do this.’

‘Why don’t you go and talk to Josh?’

He shook his head. ‘He won’t speak to me right now.’

‘I’ll go and talk to him,’ I said. ‘We’ll get this sorted out.’

Chris said nothing.

‘Can you go and sit with Matilda?’ I asked. ‘I don’t want to leave her on her own.’

Chris nodded. Wiped at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘I’ll go through in a minute,’ he said.

I went upstairs and knocked on Josh’s door. There was no answer but I decided to go in, anyway. He was lying face down on his bed. The photo of him and Lydia was lying on the floor. The picture of him and Tom, taken when they were about thirteen, had been torn from the front of the wardrobe.

‘Who are you angry at the most?’ I asked, hovering at the side of the bed.

There was no answer.

‘Because your dad had no idea about this. And Tom clearly didn’t either. There’s no way he’d have done that, if he’d known.’

‘Yeah, well, he should have known, shouldn’t he? He’s seen photos of her too.’

‘He was drunk. He was also upset. I expect all he was trying to do was put Alicia out of his mind. Pretty stupid way of doing it, I know, but people do stupid things when they’re upset.’

He said nothing.

I stood there for a long time, not wanting to say the other thing I needed to but eventually succumbing. ‘He is your dad. You know that, don’t you, Josh?’

‘I don’t know anything any more.’

‘Well, I do.’

‘You can’t. You weren’t there, were you? The only person who was there was her. And she says he’s not.’

‘She said a lot of things today. I wouldn’t put too much store by them. You saw the state she was in.’

‘She didn’t lie, though, did she? She could have lied about what happened with her and Tom. She didn’t, though. She told the truth.’

‘And you heard how jealous she was of Caitlin, of anyone who is close to you. She knew that you’d be mad at her for what she’d done and she had to find a way to distract you from that.’

‘No. It didn’t sound like that to me. It sounded like something she just blurted out. Those things are usually true.’

‘We’ll have blood tests done,’ I said. ‘Whatever it takes to put your mind at rest.’

‘And what if they say he’s not my dad?’

‘They won’t. But if they did, we’d cope with it.’

‘What, the fact that my whole life’s a sham? That none of the people I live with are my own family. My mother walked out on me as a baby and left me with someone who wasn’t even my dad. And just when she came back, and everything seemed to be working out, she shags my fucking best mate. Oh yeah, we’ll cope with that. No problem.’

I shut my eyes. Hating to see him like this. I took a step towards him, but the squeaky floorboard gave me away.

‘Go, please, Ali. I want to be on my own.’

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll be downstairs, if you need me. Maybe talk to Caitlin. That might help.’

‘Yeah, I’ll probably find out she’s shagging my real father, whoever that is.’

He was in too much pain for me to comfort him right
now. I was going to have to leave him until it subsided a little before he’d listen to anything I said. Which was a shame. Because the one thing I would have liked to have told him was that even the way he behaved when he was hurt reminded me of Chris.

I went downstairs. Matilda was curled up on the sofa with Chris. Her eyes were still red from crying. His face was still rigid with doubt, his eyes glassy and faraway.

Somehow, some way, I was going to have to try to put my family back together again.

Twenty-four years and three hundred and sixty-four days we’d been married. And in all that time he’d not once said he loved me or said thank you for pretty much single-handedly bring up his two sons or for all the cooking and cleaning and washing and shopping and darning his bloody socks I’d done.

So when I woke up on the morning of our silver wedding anniversary and found he hadn’t even remembered, I decided I was not going to waste one more single day of my life with him.

I woke up. The first thing I felt was the coldness of the bed next to me. Chris wasn’t there. And he hadn’t been there for some time.

I got up. My mind was instantly awake and my body was going to have to follow its example.

I pulled back the curtain. I had expected to see him sitting on the garden bench. It was usually where he went when he had a lot on his mind. The bench was empty, though. Save for a sparrow perched on the end, perusing the ground below for options for breakfast.

The bathroom was empty. I went downstairs. He wasn’t in the kitchen either. The cold kettle suggested he hadn’t had his morning cup of tea yet. I checked the lounge and the study before hurrying back upstairs. Only then did I notice that Matilda’s bedroom door was open a little
further than usual. I walked up to it and stuck my head round the door.

Chris was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, his legs outstretched in front of him, staring at Matilda as she slept.

‘Are you OK?’ I whispered.

He shrugged.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Watching my daughter sleep.’

I nodded. The pain he was feeling was so sharp it could have drawn blood from five yards away.

‘I’ll grab a shower first, then, shall I?’ I asked. He didn’t reply.

By the time I emerged from the bathroom, Matilda was awake. So awake that she had rigged up a puppet theatre across her bedroom door and had persuaded Chris to lie flat on the floor as a sort of human puppet stand.

I smiled at her. Maybe she was only putting on a brave face but at that moment, I was very glad she was.

‘Morning, love,’ I said. ‘Just keep the noise down a bit so you don’t wake your brother.’

‘OK,’ she whispered, before immediately returning to her normal volume.

We had breakfast in the kitchen. Just the three of us. Josh never made it down in time on a Sunday morning. Chris barely said a word, although fortunately Matilda filled in all the potentially awkward silences.

He believed Lydia. Or if he didn’t believe her, he doubted himself enough to consider the possibility that she might
be telling the truth. Either way he was effectively paralysed by it. Unable to function in any real sense of the word.

Matilda finished her toast and ran off into the lounge to play with her toys. Chris cleared the breakfast things, seemingly on automatic pilot, before turning to me.

‘Is it OK if I go out for a walk?’

‘Of course,’ I said, moving closer to him so I could stroke his arm. ‘Take however long you need.’

He nodded. A tiny movement of his head, barely noticeable.

‘When you get back,’ I said, ‘I think we need to talk. Me, you and Josh. We can’t let this tear us apart. We have to find a way through it. Together.’

Chris said nothing. Simply walked through to the hall and sat down on the bottom step of the stairs to put on his boots.

My words would be wasted now, I knew that. I needed to let him go. To walk high and far across the moors. To have the wind blow through his hair, the rain beat down on him, to be surrounded by nothing but the elements. It was his equivalent of one of those video-recorder head cleaners you used to get. And only when all the noise had been erased would I have any hope of being heard.

‘Love you,’ I said as he opened the door. And again after he shut it behind him.

I stood there for a moment, trying to get myself together enough to be able to put a smile on my face for Matilda. But somewhere, something registered in my head as not being right. It took a few seconds for me to work out what it was.

The coat peg Chris had taken his jacket from was empty. He shared it with Josh. I looked down at the mat. There was the usual jumble of shoes and boots. Matilda’s purple wellies on the top of the pile. I moved them aside. Sorted through the rest of them. They weren’t there. Josh’s boots weren’t there. I turned and ran up the stairs. I didn’t even stop to knock on his door, just pushed it open.

It was empty. His bed was empty.

The duvet was turned back. You could almost see the imprint of his body on the memory-foam mattress beneath it.

But Josh was not there.

The lurching feeling returned.

I told myself it was fine. He would have gone to Caitlin’s. That was all. But I still couldn’t stop myself opening his wardrobe. Half of his clothes had gone. There weren’t that many in the wash. His rucksack was gone too. I tried to breathe. To open my mouth. Blow out through my nose. The blood rushed around my body, seemingly in the wrong direction. I started to feel dizzy. I sat down on the bed. I looked around for his phone. It was gone too, of course. I ran through to our bedroom, grabbed the home phone and dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail. I hung up, dialled it again and managed to form a few words.

‘Josh, it’s Ali. Please call me when you get this. Or text me. Just let me know you’re OK.’

I hoped we’d be able to laugh about it later. Me being paranoid and leaving some frantic message on his phone. It didn’t feel funny right now, though. It didn’t feel funny at all.

I should call Caitlin. He would have talked to Caitlin, surely. I didn’t have a number for her, though. Everything was in Josh’s phone, and Josh had his phone with him. I longed for the days of address books and everybody being listed in the phone book. Social media was only OK if you were connected to everyone in the first place.

It was only as I stood up that I saw the piece of paper on top of the chest of drawers. I knew what it was straight away. In the old days it would have been in an envelope. I doubted if Josh even possessed an envelope. I supposed I was lucky it hadn’t been posted on Facebook. I picked up the piece of paper, torn out of an A4 pad, and tried to steady my hands enough to unfold it. I heard Josh’s voice as I read the words. Saw his pain etched into each letter.

I read it through over and over again in the hope that the words would change. That they weren’t written in ink in front of me but were merely in my head. The contents of my worst nightmare. I looked down at the piece of paper. The words were still there. Arranged in the same order.

It was true. Josh had gone. And I had no idea when, or if, he’d be back.

I sat down heavily on his bed. Took a gulp of air. Told myself repeatedly to hold myself together. That this was a time to be strong, not to fall apart.

I folded the piece of paper back up and put it in my jeans pocket. I would go and see Caitlin. I did at least know where she lived. If he’d seen anyone, if he’d rung anyone, it would be her.

I hurried back into our bedroom, picked up my mobile and called Chris. It went straight to voicemail. There was no point leaving a message, I knew I couldn’t compose myself enough to do it. I would leave a note on the mat asking him to ring me, in case he got home before I did.

I rang Debbie, hoping it wasn’t her turn for a lie-in. She picked up the phone. I could hear Sophie and Ben arguing in the background.

I opened my mouth to say something but all that came out was a high-pitched whimper.

‘Ali?’ said Debbie. ‘Ali, are you OK?’

‘Sorry,’ I said, my voice wobbling all over the place. ‘I was wondering if you could have Matilda for a bit. Josh has run away. He left a note. Lydia came here yesterday. She’d slept with his best friend and said that Chris isn’t his real father.’

‘Oh Christ. The poor kid. I’ll come straight round.’

‘Don’t say anything in front of Matilda. She doesn’t know yet.’

‘Sure. I’ll see you in a bit.’

I put the phone down and sat there for a moment, waiting for my body, my brain or ideally both of them to go into that autopilot mode you hear people talking about when there’s a real crisis. It didn’t happen, though. I simply felt empty inside. Empty from the knowledge that this was all my fault. And that somehow I had to explain that to Chris.

I went into the bathroom and splashed some water on my eyes before quickly applying enough make-up to conceal what remained of the redness. There was still a chance that Josh could be back before the end of the day. I didn’t want to alert Matilda to the fact that anything was wrong before I absolutely had to. As I went downstairs I counted each step out loud, in the hope that the numbers would calm me, ground me somehow.

Matilda had got virtually everything out of her largest toy box, including things she hadn’t played with for years. Normally I’d have asked her to tidy up before going anywhere, but today was not normal.

‘Debbie’s invited you over to play with Sophie.’

Matilda looked up. ‘Yay! When?’

‘Now. Debbie’s on her way over.’

‘What are you going to do while I’m gone?’

She always had this idea that the rest of us couldn’t possibly manage to entertain ourselves without her.

‘Nothing much,’ I said. ‘The usual chores, I expect.’

‘Where’s Daddy?’ she asked.

‘He’s gone for a walk.’

‘What about Josh?’

‘You’re not missing out on anything, OK?’

The smile was meant to reassure her. And the comment to avoid having to lie to her. If he wasn’t back by night-time, I’d tell her. I’d have to. But I really couldn’t bring myself to tell her now.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Right, you nip to the loo and I’ll go and let Debbie in.’

She nodded and skipped out of the room. Which made it even worse.

I opened the door. Debbie checked to see that the coast was clear and flung her arms around me.

‘How long’s he been gone?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. I only just realised his jacket was missing. I didn’t hear a thing. None of us did, obviously.’

‘He’s not gone to Lydia’s?’

‘I don’t think so. He was pretty mad at her yesterday. I’m going to go to Caitlin’s, in case she’s heard anything.’

‘Where’s Chris?’

‘Up there somewhere,’ I said, gesturing towards the moor. ‘He doesn’t even know Josh has gone yet.’

‘Look, I’ll have Matilda as long as you need me to. And if there’s anything else I can do –’

‘Thanks,’ I said.

Matilda came running out. ‘How long can I stay for?’ she asked Debbie.

‘Definitely for lunch. If you help me with the Yorkshire puddings, that is. And we’ll see about tea later.’

Matilda grinned at her.

I kissed her on the top of the head as I put her jacket on. ‘Best behaviour now, remember.’

I waved as she skipped off holding Debbie’s hand. Thinking how rude it was of the daffodils to look so bloody cheerful at a time like this.

* * *

Caitlin’s mum answered the door. I’d only met her briefly a couple of times, when I’d dropped Caitlin off or collected her, but she’d seemed very nice. Her husband too. I wondered if she was going to think the same thing about our family by the end of the day.

‘Hello, Sandra. I’m ever so sorry to bother you. I wondered if Caitlin was in. If I could see her for minute, please?’

‘Yes, of course. Is everything OK?’ she asked.

‘I hope so,’ I replied.

She called Caitlin. I heard footsteps on the stairs before she appeared round the corner.

She stared at me, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Is Josh OK?’ she asked.

I wondered if she’d been trying to phone him. If he hadn’t answered her calls.

‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘But I wondered if I could have a quick word.’

She nodded.

‘Come in,’ said Sandra. ‘Can I get you a coffee?’

‘No, thanks. I’m fine.’

‘Do you want to come up?’ asked Caitlin.

‘Thanks,’ I said, stepping inside and taking my boots off.

‘Oh, you don’t have to worry,’ said Sandra.

I glanced at Caitlin, remembering what she’d once said, and smiled. ‘It’s OK,’ I replied. ‘We do it in our house too.’

I followed Caitlin across the parquet-floored hall and up the wooden staircase. Her room was tidy and tastefully furnished, a cast-iron bed in the corner, white-painted walls. My gaze rested on the photo of Josh she had on her bedside cabinet. I swallowed hard.

‘He’s dumped me, hasn’t he?’ she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

‘No, love,’ I said, ‘he’d never do that. He has gone, though. He wasn’t in his room this morning.’

Caitlin stared at me. She clearly hadn’t been in on it. She was struggling to form words in the same way I had been doing a short while ago. I walked over to her, put my arm around her shoulders and gently sat her down on the bed.

‘He left this,’ I said, taking the note out of my pocket and handing it to her. I watched her eyes following the words until they got to her own name, when they shut for a second and reopened with a liquid coating.

‘I don’t want anyone else,’ she said. ‘I only want him.’

‘I know,’ I said, sitting down next to her and squeezing her hand. ‘And I’m sure deep down he knows that too. But he’s hurting very badly right now.’

‘He called me last night,’ she said, wiping the tears away from the corners of her eyes. ‘He told me about Tom and his mum. I’m not surprised he couldn’t get his head around it.’

‘I know. Did he tell you what she said … about Chris?’

She nodded and looked down.

‘She was lying,’ I said. ‘I’m as sure of it as I can be. But I think it pushed him over the edge.’

Fresh tears fell from Caitlin’s eyes. I squeezed her shoulder.

‘I wanted to come round last night,’ she said. ‘But he wouldn’t let me. Said he needed to be on his own. I shouldn’t have taken any notice. I should have come anyway.’

I shook my head. ‘Don’t blame yourself, Caitlin. You’re the last person who should do that, believe me.’

‘I tried his phone this morning,’ she went on. ‘It was switched off. I’ve left a message. Lots of them.’

‘Me too,’ I said. ‘Let’s keep doing that. Hopefully, when he realises how much people care about him, he’ll come back.’

‘Do you think he’s gone far?’ she asked.