The Torn Up Marriage (4 page)

“Come on then, Lottie. We’re nearly there.”

The toddler was trailing behind, dragging a pink plastic spade in a jagged line through the sandy track. Michael, ahead in khaki shorts and white t-shirt, a picnic blanket rolled up beneath one of his arms, the back of Emily’s small head peeping out from the top of the child carrier that hung on his back. Kate was walking between them, the bulky shoulder bag laden with food, nappies and other essentials digging into her side, chivvying Charlotte on. Beads of sweat were gathering on her brow, the sun promisingly hot on the back of her neck.

She knew this path well; used to come here with her own parents. The last spiky rise of the dunes. The salt smell of the North Sea. A small crescendo of excitement in her chest as the expanse of azure blue and gold revealed itself: Embleton beach, a long arc of golden sand tapering into rock pools to their right and the steep grassy rise of the cliffs that held the dramatic ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle.

“Shall we go for a walk first or stop a while?” Michael paused.

The sand had filled Kate’s pumps, grainy between her toes. Charlotte still shuffling along behind.

“We’ll stop. Maybe set the blanket up somewhere and leave our stuff. Then we can dip our toes in the sea. Hey, Lottie?” She turned to grin at her daughter, who was still bringing up the rear.

“And then we’ll make a sandcastle,” Michael chipped in.

They walked on and found a spot where the sand flattened out just at the end of the dunes. Kate took the rug and laid it out whilst Michael hoisted down the baby carrier, setting it firmly upright into the sand.

“Hey, sweetie, look where we are.” Kate brushed a hand gently across Emily’s eight-month-old peachy cheek. “Wow. Your first day out on the beach.” Emily looked back at her, bemused, propped up within the sling of the carrier, her sunhat lopsided.

Kate slipped off her sand-filled shoes and quickly sorted out their things. Michael lifted Emily out, bouncing her high in his arms. Charlotte had plonked herself down on the rug, grumpy from the June heat and the walk from the car. They’d finally got a whole day together; Michael had been working long hours lately. Kate was determined to make the most of it.

She stood staring out at the sea. The rush and pull of the waves mesmerising, further out the sunlight glinting like crystals on their choppy peaks and the white-tipped froth as they broke surging onto the shore. A trio of gulls swooping and crying above, the bark of a dog playing in the surf. Along the beach, a middle-aged couple walking hand in hand. A family playing rounders on a pitch etched with sticks into the sand, using discarded jumpers as posts.

“Race you to the sea!” Kate was off, suddenly feeling carefree. Charlotte scrambling up, her mood lifted, soon on her heels. Michael behind, carefully jogging with Emily in his arms.

The girls giggled and shrieked as they reached the icy cold of the shallows, which took your breath away (this was no Mediterranean beach, but Northumberland!), splashing, kicking into the surf, jumping waves, spraying Michael and Emily as they joined them. Emily grinning from the safety of her father’s arms. Michael spraying the other two back. Sounds of laughter, love. A family together.

They strolled back up the beach, shorts damp, sticking saltily to their legs. Then sat tucking into ham sandwiches and crisps, with juicy tomatoes from Grandpa’s greenhouse; they’d visited Kate’s parents the weekend before. And yummy chocolate cake that Kate had made, with ripe strawberries that tasted of summer and candyfloss. Kate set to with the wet wipes on sticky fingers, and then sun cream, protection factor 50, fearing that the girls might burn. Lottie squirming as the sand scoured her skin along with the cream.

“Okay, then, time for some super sandcastle-making.” Michael stood up, tall and tanned, his blue eyes glinting happily in the bright midday light. Kate thought he had a look of the actor, Bradley Cooper. They’d seen a film with him in the other night, hmm, nice.

Kate sat watching with Em on her knee, as he dug out a moat with Lottie’s pink plastic spade and piled up foundations – yes, this was going to be a mega castle. He never did anything by halves, was competitive, too. He had already eyed the small circle of a castle another family had made further down the beach. Charlotte then began to fill her pink castle bucket ready for the turrets. He showed her how to pack the sand in so the shape would work better, then turned it over carefully for her, letting her pat the top, ready for the lift-off. Four perfect turrets, on four rounded heaps of packed sand.

A surge of happiness filled Kate. It was lovely having him here with them, making the most of his day off. She looked forward to tucking the girls up in bed later, to that time when it would be just the two of them, when she could trace the muscles of his arms, his thighs, feel the grit of saltiness from the beach on his skin, brush her fingertips over his chest and down… like she used to. But, hey! Who was she kidding? By the time the girls were finally settled she’d probably be too knackered to think about anything other than sleep – that was happening far too often of late.

“Come on then, Em, let’s find some shells to help make this pretty.” Kate perched Emily on her hip and set off in search of shells and sea gems. They found some cone-shaped white limpets and purply-blue mussels, and a few pieces of smoothed stone and frosted green glass. They let Charlotte do the decorating. Michael making the finishing touches with some dried seaweed for the walled-garden area.

“Okay. I think that’s done.” Father and daughter stood up, admiring their handiwork.

“It’s super-duper, Daddy.”

“Got the camera, Kate? I put it in the side pocket of the bag.”

Kate rummaged to find it, leaving Emily to sit on the blanket a minute. Charlotte was off up the beach again on a mission with her bucket.

“Charlotte,” Michael shouted down the beach, “Come back for a picture, sweetheart.”

“Finding shells,” she shouted back.

“I’m sure we’ve got enough now.” The turrets and walls were laden with them.

“Just two more.” She bent over on chubby three-year-old legs, intent on finding the two most beautiful shells ever. Kate and Michael waited, smiling at each other.

“She’s a perfectionist like you,” Michael said as they stood watching Lottie.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong in that. And anyway, who’s the competitive one here? Haven’t you noticed this is the biggest and best castle on the entire beach? And I don’t think I’ve ever seen one with a walled garden before.”

He pulled a nerdy face, then grinned. They waited as Charlotte crouched low, about 20 metres away, scouring the tide line.

“Come on, Lottie, it’ll only take a tick. You can find more shells after.” Kate stood poised with the camera, concerned that Emily would be off the blanket and crawling into the sand at any moment.

Charlotte skipped back and tucked herself behind the castle, next to her Dad. “Ta-dah!” they pointed at their masterpiece as the shutter clicked. Capturing the moment forever, before the tides came in, washing it all away. The shifting of sands, of time.

“Fantastic,” Kate grinned at them.

Michael came across, taking the camera from her. “Here, we can have one of all of us. I brought the tripod stand along. It does automatic.” The camera was a new toy. He was desperate to try all its settings. “Come on then, ladies, back to the blanket.” He found the tripod folded down in the bottom of the bag that Kate had carried – no wonder it had been so damned heavy – and set it up opposite their picnic area. Kate sat with Emily on her knee, Charlotte beside them. Michael played about with the settings then scrambled back, getting sand all over them as he dived down, shouting “Smile!” just as the camera clicked, managing to grasp an arm around them all at the last second.

Two years ago.

A family together.

A photo on a desk.

A freeze frame of happiness.

The coffee had cooled in her cup, leaving a broken skin of floating milk. She didn’t know how long ago she’d made it. She sipped it. Yuck! It was horrid – not even lukewarm.

She found herself coiled on the sofa in the lounge, where she’d been since putting the shopping away. The photo frame held tight against her. She’d nipped upstairs with the toiletries, seen the picture in his office, taken it down with her. She’d been sitting staring at the image, looked out of the window at the back garden, which had started to fuzz as she’d drifted into her thoughts… mixing memories with her fears, and getting lost within herself for a while.

Back to the present, looking out at the spring show; tulips and daffodils were massed in the borders. She’d spent ages planting those bulbs the autumn after Charlotte had been born, filled with a sudden energy to make a spring garden for her baby to see in her early months; a garden full of colours, bright and happy. And here it was bold and beautiful, Charlotte was five and a half years old and her Daddy was about to leave this house, this garden, them.

Well,
maybe
. He hadn’t called yet.

Kate clung to a thin strand of hope; maybe he was just thinking everything through. He’d ring soon saying he’d made an awful mistake. It was Kate he loved. Kate he wanted. He’d never do anything to hurt her again… But he was there, no doubt in the office with
her
, and he hadn’t called.

She should get up. Go into the garden. Do something. Dig the borders. Find those pesky weeds and root them out, get her hands clotted with musky earth. But she felt tired, so very tired. She glanced at her wristwatch, only three quarters of an hour now until she’d have to set off and collect Emily from nursery. She could clean the bathroom. Do something useful, for heaven’s sake. But still she sat, with a strange feeling inside; not exactly a numbness, it hurt too much for that.

Then she was crying. Big snotty sobs, like the children did when they cried. Damn, not again, and she hadn’t even got a bloody tissue handy. She struggled to breathe, gulping for air, the tears unrelenting, until her eyes felt sore and swollen. She’d better go to the loo, sort herself out. Blow her nose, splash water on her face. She shifted forwards on the sofa, uncurled her legs, about to get up.

“Bringg…” THE PHONE. Oh, shit!

She paused, afraid to go and pick it up.
Was it Michael? Had he made his decision? Did she really want to know?

Then something inside her changed. She ran through and lunged for the handset, just before the answerphone kicked in.

“Hel-lo?” Her voice seemed small, cautious.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

It wasn’t him. It was female.

“Oh, sorry. You sounded different… It’s Mel. I just wondered if you wanted me to fetch Em from nursery. She can come back for the afternoon with us, have a bit of lunch and play with Jack.”

“Umn, okay, maybe…” Kate’s voice trailed.

“Kate, I’ve been a bit worried about you. You didn’t seem yourself this morning. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” she rallied.

“Sure?”

God! Was she that transparent?

“Well, I had a pig of a headache last night. Still feel a bit jaded from it, that’s all.” And so she kept it all in.

“Oh, you poor thing. Well, that settles it. I’ll definitely have Emily and you can get a few hours’ rest. Then I can pick up Charlotte from school for you when I go to fetch Rebecca and bring your two home.”

“Are you sure? Well, that’d be great.” Though she’d now have an expanse of afternoon to fill. But she might get the chance to speak with Michael properly if he rang, maybe ask him to come home, talk things over.

“It’s fine. It’ll keep Jack amused. You’d be doing me a favour, honest.”

“Thanks, Mel.” Kate was lifted by a warm feeling inside. She pictured her friend’s face, her smile and those deep-brown eyes, the colour of kindness. “Okay, I’ll ring the nursery and the school. Just to let them know it’ll be you collecting them, not me. And thanks… thanks so much.” She tried to keep a grip on her faltering tone.

“No worries. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

So, she had hours to fill. Well, enough sitting about and moping! That wasn’t going to change anything, was it? She’d take the phone out to the back step, get her old wellies and gardening coat on and get outside. Prune some dead wood, tidy the borders. The wind whipped at her face, but the sun was warm, the colours of the garden bright, those rich trumpets of yellow daffodils and tulips in red and pink. She dug, trimmed and tidied. A blackbird eyed her with curiosity as she worked, then cheekily moved in to pick at worms from the turned earth. The grass would need cutting soon; Michael always did that.

Michael. Their story. There was a faint smile on her face as she remembered meeting him that very first time. In that bar in Morpeth. She had heard him chatting. He was in with some work colleagues. She was back from university for the summer. And she knew straight away that this was someone special. That he was different. Significant, somehow. She kept stealing glances at him, couldn’t resist, nodding along yet totally zoned out to the conversation with her girlfriends, catching instead the warm lilting tones as he spoke. And then, amazingly, he was there beside her, offering to buy her a drink, with his broad grin aimed right at her, his smiling blue eyes taking her in. He had a gorgeous smile.

“I haven’t seen you in here before, have I?”

She shook her head, feeling strangely shy. She certainly wouldn’t have forgotten meeting someone like
him
before.

“Hmm,” a cheeky glimmer of a grin played over his lips. “If I had seen you, I would have definitely remembered.”

The spark was ignited. They chatted for ages – about uni, his work, favourite bands, their ambitions, backgrounds – they both lived nearby: Kate’s parents in Morpeth, his in Alnwick, though he was currently working in Newcastle. It was as if they’d known each other for years.

She pictured him as he was back then, his hair was longer with brown-black tufts that sprung up at oddly attractive angles across the fringe and crown.

By the end of the night, he’d taken her number. She remembered the butterflies she’d had all the next day, hoping he’d ring… He did.