The Torn Up Marriage (21 page)

“Wouldn’t it be great to have our own baby some day?”

They were snuggled up on the sofa after a hectic day at work.

Whoh,
thought Michael,
this was going way too fast.
“I thought you’d been finding it a bit difficult with my two girls?”

“Yeah, well.” Sophie stroked his arm as she spoke.

If she thought she was getting him in the mood, then she had another think coming.

“We’re all getting along better now,” she continued, “And it would be different with one of our own, wouldn’t it? It would be
our
child.”

Did she think that made it any easier? That somehow your own didn’t argue, cry, be demanding, get upset? Wasn’t that where his initial problems with Kate had begun? The pressures on them both, the demands of a family, work?

“Look, Soph,” he shrugged his forearm away, “Don’t you think it’s a little early days for all that? We’ve only been together as a couple for six months. And I’m not even divorced yet.”

“Yeah, well I
know
that,” her tone was sullen, “And that’s another thing. Have you contacted a solicitor yet, like we discussed?”

He hadn’t. It just didn’t seem quite right, yet. After all, he’d done the dirty on them. It would probably mean putting the house on the market and all sorts. He stayed quiet.

“Well, I was only thinking out loud, you know. Just picturing how lovely a little boy might be, a mini-you with those gorgeous blue eyes.”

He softened, smiled, “Yeah, but it’s just too soon, Soph, okay? We need to get the girls settled more first.” And
me
, he was thinking. The conversation he’d had with his mother yesterday was still rattling through his mind.

They’d been waiting, sitting side by side on hard plastic chairs, in a corridor of grey lino and antiseptic fumes. Dorothy was in for a blood test; something about checking the red and white cells before the chemo treatment began, and Michael had offered to take her, to relieve the pressure from his dad, though he was sure George would willingly have been there with her. Michael just felt he should be doing more, wanted to be active in supporting his mother.

They were facing a poster board: a Macmillan Cancer Support coffee morning, a notice about increased parking fees at the hospital, one about the flu jab, and another which caught his eye and snagged his heartstrings showing a little girl with sad eyes and yellowed skin waiting for a kidney transplant. He was sure he still had that donor card in his wallet. He’d check later.

Dorothy had been quiet for a while sitting next to him. She’d obviously been thinking. “Are you happy, Michael?” His mother turned to him, her blue eyes piercing, giving him nowhere to hide.

He was taken aback by her forthrightness, unable to answer straight away.

“Look, I’ve been worried about you. All of you. Are you
sure
you’re doing the right thing with Sophie?” she continued, taking his hand gently in her own.

The skin on the back of her hand was thinner than he remembered, fragile and lined. It seemed a strange place to be having this kind of conversation; in a hospital corridor, other people lined up beside them. But then, he mused, illness, hospitals, they seemed to focus you, make you think about the big stuff.

“Well, I do love Sophie,” was the only answer he could find.

“And what about Kate, darling? Do you no longer love Kate?”

He couldn’t reply to that. His mother had touched a nerve, as mothers have the uncanny knack of doing. He had felt himself floundering in his newly created world of late. But he’d chosen this new road, changed all their lives, going back would never work. He’d just been remembering some of the good times recently, that was all, being nostalgic. But he had also reminded himself of the slow dwindling of love and affection between him and Kate over the past couple of years. The rows, even the quieter times, had shown the distance between them.

“Don’t rush into any final decisions, Michael.” She patted his hand gently, just as a nurse came out calling “Mrs Dorothy Armstrong?”

“Shall I come in with you, Mum?”

“Oh no, it’s fine. It’s just a simple blood test today. I’ll only be a short while.”

And he was kind of glad. He hated hospitals, needles and the like, was feeling a bit green just sitting there. She stood up, his stoical mother, grey-haired, medium build, smiling and making chit-chat with the nurse as she followed her through to the small room, where they’d draw out a syringe of her life blood and test it once again. God! How he hoped she’d beat that bastard cancer.

The doubts his mother had raised lingered in his mind today, along with the feeling that Sophie was trying to bulldoze their relationship forwards. She’d been nagging a lot lately about him starting divorce proceedings. They were fine as they were, surely. It was early days, they should be having fun, there’d be plenty of time to think of marriage, the possibility of children, but in years to come. They had the flat set up nicely, a room organised for the girls, great sex, and time for each other.

A baby, now how would that alter things? Would a baby bond or distance them? It had certainly altered the balance of the relationship for him and Kate. And he saw his own selfishness in that, too. As much as he loved the girls, he’d certainly missed Kate’s attention, the time they had together as a couple. Is that why he’d bolted?

Jesus, he was feeling mixed up.

“It’s just too soon, Sophie,” he repeated.

“Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to You!”

Cakes and candles, pearly-pink balloons. Emily’s excited eyes reflected the glow of the tiny flames as she gazed at the fairy princess cake that Kate had slaved over. Kate thought it looked pretty trashy, to be honest, with its pink and white-scalloped icing skirt, covered in silver balls and sugar flowers with Emily’s Barbie doll’s head poking out at the top. In fact, it looked very like one of those ghastly old-fashioned knitted-doll toilet-roll covers, but Em’s beaming face made it worthwhile.

Kate had spent two whole days shopping, baking and preparing party nibbles, and the whole of last night feeling churningly nervous about Sophie being there. She hadn’t got much sleep.

“Make a wish, Em! Shut your eyes as you blow the candles out and think of something special,” Kate said with a smile.

“But you have to keep it secret.” Charlotte added – the big sister voice of experience.

As if life was that simple!
Kate had given up on candle wishes years ago. But, hey, there was no point in spoiling Emily’s fun.

Her youngest daughter blew at the three candles with all her might, eyes shut tight, a serious look across her angelic face. Then she gave a big grin as everyone clapped.

It was a mild October day, so Kate had opened up the double doors at the dining end of the lounge and people were milling around inside and out, though most had gathered around the table for the cake ceremony. Sophie was standing opposite Kate, Michael close beside her. As Kate looked up, the two women made eye contact. It tore her up inside for a second, but Kate had the mantra “Keep Calm and Carry On” firmly planted in her head and headed back to the kitchen to start slicing up the cake. She had kept herself extremely busy on autopilot so far, and had survived the first hour. In the main, Sophie had kept out of her way, thank God. She’d spotted her chatting with Graeme at one point. Now that was an interesting combination. He had glanced at Kate conspiratorially, eyebrows raised in apology, as though he’d been caught fraternising with the enemy. But it was fine. She could cope with seeing Sophie with Graeme. It was seeing her with Michael that still hurt. She was sure that would always be hard, but she would no doubt just have to learn how to live with it.

She’d noticed that George had kept a wide berth of Sophie, too, whilst Dorothy, looking pale but happy to be there, made polite conversation with her for a short while. Her own parents, after spending some time chatting with Michael’s, supported Kate admirably in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the things in the oven, taking around trays of nibbles for the guests and washing up, even though she’d told them numerous times they could sit down and she’d just shove it all in the dishwasher.

Mel and Kev were out in the garden keeping an eye on the kids, along with some of the other parents from nursery and school, who were there with the party children. Kate had made up a pass-the-parcel for the youngsters and they were going to play musical statues in a while – such a great party game, praise the Lord whoever invented that one, peace for five minutes. But for now the children, who had dashed back outside after the cake and candle sing-a-long, seemed happy kicking around a ball and chasing each other about the lawn. Kate watched from the kitchen as she cut slices of sponge and icing, then took it outside to offer around.

“You okay?” Mel asked, “Can I help at all?”

“You already are. You’re doing a sterling job keeping an eye on all the kids for me.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

“Hi, Kate.” It was one of the mums from school. “Ben’s having a super time. Thanks.”

“That’s good.” Kate glanced out at the kids. This woman’s little tearaway, Ben, was now pulling up the skirts on the little girls’ dresses. Kate raised an eyebrow.

“Ben, sweetie,” the woman cooed from the back door, “Just calm down a bit. That’s not a nice thing to do, honey.” She looked a little embarrassed.

All he needed was a good kick up the bum, mused Kate, as she stood with her smile askew.

“Sorry, John couldn’t make it,” skirt-lifter’s mother continued. John, her husband, had been a total bore at last Autumn’s cheese and wine fundraiser for the nursery, catching Michael for a full thirty minutes to discuss the subject of traffic-calming in the town, so, to be honest, Kate really hadn’t minded his absence today.

“Ah, don’t worry. That’s fine.”

“And your husband is…?” The woman was scanning the garden trying to see him. She either was so out of the loop that she really didn’t know their situation, or was just being bloody nosy and fishing for information. Kate guessed it was more likely the latter.

Shagging another woman
came to mind. Kate spotted Michael chatting on the patio with Sophie. “Over there, actually.” Kate held her smile, though it was making the corners of her mouth ache, as she pointed across, then walked off briskly, passing out cake as she went.

Mel caught up with her, “You okay there? I heard that… what an old bag.”

“I’m fine. It goes with the territory. Marital breakdown, awkward situations and all that.” Keep busy, busy, that’s all she had to do for another half hour or so. She didn’t want Mel’s sympathy to crack her veneer. “Oh, and I’ll fetch you a top-up in a minute.” Kate noted Mel’s wine glass was nearly empty. “I think Dad’s about with the bottle of cava somewhere. I’ll send him over shortly.” She’d kept well clear of the wine herself, sticking to Diet Coke. She was emotional enough as it was, didn’t want anything to take her over the thin line she was treading.

Mel shuffled a little closer towards her, whispering, “Are you sure you’re okay?” She glanced across at Sophie meaningfully.

“Yeah, yeah. Just keeping myself occupied. There’s plenty to do, so I’ll just keep going.” Kate gave her friend a pleading look. She didn’t want to discuss this now.

“Okay, but you’re doing great. And if you need anyone to send the poisoned one packing, I’m your woman,” Mel grinned. “I do a great line in tactless comments.”

“Shush, you. I’m fine, honest.”
Nearly, really. It’ll all be over soon. Keep calm and carry on.
“Cake anyone?”

The children swarmed in. Emily looking a bit pale and tired. No wonder! It was probably the crash after the major sugar rush she’d had from all the party food and fizzy pop. And she’d been dashing about like a wind-up toy until a few minutes ago. She trundled up and hugged Kate’s legs. “Thank you, Mummy. This is the best party in the whole wide world.”

Kate’s vision fuzzed. She stroked the downy blonde hair on the top of her daughter’s head and felt filled with a strange mix of love and sorrow. “Right,” she gathered herself, “You all sit down on the rug with your cake a minute. I just need to go back in and take some more cake around for Granny and Grandad and the grown-ups.”

She passed Graeme on the back step, on her way back to the kitchen.

“Hi,” he smiled. “Busy?”

“Yeah, all go.”

“Can I help with anything?”

“Oh no, it’s all in hand. But thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

Not another one intent on cracking her façade. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks.”

He smiled gently at her. And they hesitated awkwardly. A hug seemed likely but perhaps not appropriate. So the space stayed between them, with just a shared smile to close the gap.

“Actually, I thought I’d get going shortly. But thank you. It’s been great and I can see the girls have had a lovely time, haven’t they?”

“Are you sure it was okay? I know you didn’t know many people here. And there’s been lots of kids running about.”

“Well, David and Beth were here from the running club so I’ve had a good catch-up with them.… It’s been good, honestly. More interesting than my usual Sundays.”
Alone
, was left unsaid.

“Well, bye then. Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure.” He paused, then added, “You look lovely, by the way.”

She’d put on a chiffon floral dress. The girls had chosen it with her this morning, said it looked like a proper party dress. It used to be an old favourite, made her feel good, hugged in the right places and was summery enough to look casual. She’d teamed it with a teal-blue-coloured cardigan. To be honest, she’d wanted to appear her best, had even spent a bit of time on her make-up. After all, she was going to be up against the other woman.

She leant across and gave Graeme a small peck on the cheek. “Thanks.”

He smiled wistfully, his green eyes resting on her own. “See you soon. I’ll let myself out. I can tell you’re busy. Unless there is anything I can help with?”

“No, I’m fine, Graeme, just one last lot of cake to dish out. Then we’re just about done.”