The Torn Up Marriage (7 page)

His voice was gentle, though the words cruel, “Yes, it’s over. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, oh God,” she broke then. Couldn’t speak.

“Kate, are you there? Are you okay?”

Silence. So this was it. It was really happening.

“Are you okay?” He tried again.

“Of course I’m not bloody okay… But I’m here, still here.”

“I’ll need to come back, fetch some more things.” He shifted into practical mode now, “And I want to see the girls. Can I take them out Sunday? I think I need to try and explain to them.”

How
, how did you explain all this?

“They’re missing you… Yes, you’ll need to talk to them.” Her voice was distant, on autopilot.

So this was it. The split-up discussions, arranging Daddy’s day trips. Sharing time.
Custody
. That word killed her. Would it come to that? The pair of them fighting in court. Could he take away the girls from her, too?

“It’ll just be for the day. I just want to talk to them, explain about us not being together.”

She felt as though all the air had been punched out of her. “Yes, I suppose you’ll have to do that. They keep asking where you are.”

“I’m sorry. I just needed these few days to think about everything. To be sure I was doing the right thing.”

“The right thing? Hah! For who, Michael? Who’s this right for… only you?”

“No, Kate,” his tone was firm, “We couldn’t have carried on like we were.”

She didn’t reply, still clinging on to a fragile belief, a hope that maybe they could have done.

“I’ll come and fetch the girls at ten Sunday morning.”

She knew she’d have to go sometime.

She took a deep breath as she pressed the doorbell, facing the Victorian frosted-glass panels of the front door of her childhood home. An outline shifted towards her in the hallway, the door opened. Her mother, her grey hair falling stylishly to just below her ears. Kind, slate-blue eyes were smiling at her, a pair of reading glasses swinging on a thin chain around her neck; she’d probably been flicking through
The Sunday Times
in the conservatory. Kate felt a glow of warmth, swiftly followed by a shadow of regret that she was about to shatter their cosy weekend. For a second, she yearned to be held by her, but just stood there, “Hello, Mum.”

“Hello, Kate, love.” Her mother scanned the garden path behind her, the pavement outside. “Oh… you’re on your own?”

“Yes, Michael’s taken the girls out to the zoo. They’re having a day in Edinburgh.”

“Oh, right.” A small frown furrowed Jean’s brow. She sensed there was more to this, but that it would all come out in due course, “Oh, I see. Well, come on in, then, love. I’ll just pop the kettle on, shall I?”

A large gin and tonic might have hit the mark better, but Kate just gave a small smile and said, “Lovely.”

Jean strolled down the hall into the spacious kitchen extension out at the back. She was dressed in smart beige chino trousers teamed with a pale-blue blouse. “Your father’s just in the garden. I’ll give him a shout in a minute.” She busied herself, fetching teabags and the pot, “Earl Grey alright?”

“Yes, fine.”

How did you tell your parents, who’d been married for over thirty-five years, that your own marriage of only eight was over?

“So what time did they set off, then?” Her mother was edging nearer to the conversation they were both dancing around.

“Umn, early… nine-ish.”

“Oh, well, we’ll see them next time.”

“Oh, Mum,” Kate grasped the kitchen work surface.

Jean dropped the teaspoon, came to her and touched her shoulder, “What is it, Katie?” slipping back to the childhood version of her name.

“He’s left me, Mum.”

“Oh, good Lord! I knew you weren’t right on the phone the other day. And all those messages I’ve left.”

Her father, Peter, came ambling in through the back door, secateurs in hand. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, his once-black hair now white and thick. “Hel–” Jean gave him a sharp look and a flick of her head, motioning him to move on. “–Lo,” he finished. “I’ll just go wash my hands, give you girls a minute.” He looked concerned, awkward.

“Hi, Dad,” Kate’s voice was muffled, her mother’s arm about her shoulders now and the tears came. Those tears that always seemed ready to hijack her nowadays, waiting just below the surface to flow again. Her eyes had been red-rimmed all week, with sallow grey bags beneath; she’d taken to using a lot of foundation and concealer.

Jean held her to her, with a hand softly stroking the top of her head, sifting the strands of dark-blonde hair. “I’m so, so sorry, my love.” They stood together for a moment or two. Soothing words whispered above her, “It’s alright. It’s alright.”

But it wasn’t alright. It was never going to be alright.

The tears eased a little, Kate pulled back, “I’m sorry, Mum.”

“What on earth are you sorry for, Katie? It’s alright to cry. We all need to let it out sometimes.”

She hadn’t wanted to break down like this, to make a scene. She had meant to tell them calmly, responsibly. Just the facts.

“What’s happened?” Jean’s voice was gentle.

Kate pulled away with a sigh. Her mother turned to give her a little space and started popping teabags into the pot, pouring water in.

This was so hard, having to put it into words. “He… he’s been having an affair. It’s been a few months. He’s left us to live with her.”

“Oh, dear God! What a thing to have to deal with. When did you find out?”

“Last Monday, well it was Tuesday, really, when I found out the truth.”

“But are you sure it really is over? Is it serious? Marriages all have problems sometimes. Things can change.” Jean stirred the pot.

“He says he loves her.” Kate lifted a hand to her face, bit her inner lip. “He’s left us. Gone to be with her.”

“And you’ve not told us, for all these days? Oh Katie, we could have helped. I would have come up, helped with the girls.”

“I just needed time, Mum.” Kate looked out of the window, past the shrubs, the vegetable patch, up to the blue expanse of the sky, “I wanted to be sure it really was over. And we haven’t told the girls yet, not properly. Said he was away with work…. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell you.” Her words drifted to a whisper.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Jean’s hands were trembling as she poured out the tea from the pot. “Come on, let’s take these through to the conservatory.” She placed three cups on a tray, along with the biscuit jar and sugar bowl.

Peter reappeared cautiously at the threshold between the hall and kitchen. “Is everything alright?”

“Not really, Peter, no.” Jean, her tone formal, concerned. “Come through.”

They settled onto wicker furniture with floral seat pads and Kate had to say it all again. “It’s Michael. He’s left me for someone else, Dad.” It wasn’t any easier the second time.

“Oh, Kate, pet.” He shook his head slowly, as if trying to register the words. “Good Lord! What’s the matter with the man? Does he have no sense of his responsibilities?” He stood up, started pacing the floor tiles. “How are you coping? How are the girls? What can we do to help?”

“Would you like to stay here for a while?” Jean added.

“No. No thanks, Mum. The girls have got school. We need to be in Alnwick. I’m just trying to sort things out day to day, really.” She paused, “It’s just so hard to think about it all, though.”

“Well, I’ve a good mind to go and have words. Sort him out. What the hell does he think he’s playing at?” Peter was stood tall, squaring himself up.

Kate gave a half-smile. Typical Dad back in schoolmaster mode (he’d recently retired as head of the high school in the town). “Dad, you can’t just box his ears and make it all alright, you know. He’s in his thirties, not thirteen.”

“Well, he’s acting like bloody thirteen… Oh, I know, I know… I just can’t believe he’d do this to you and the girls. I’m so bloody cross. And boxing his ears might make me feel better.” He sat back down on the wicker sofa next to Kate, his tone softening, “And how are you?” He placed a sturdy, reassuring arm around her.

“I’m alright.” A necessary lie. No point worrying them even more.

“Well, just ring us, or come down. Or we’ll come up, if there’s anything. Anything at all.” He sat quiet for a moment, thinking, then added, “Are you alright for money?

“Yes, that’s all fine, Dad.” She had an allowance, monthly housekeeping from Michael’s wages. She hadn’t really thought about that side of things. Surely he would keep supporting them.

Jean passed around the tea and they sipped politely. Peter took a digestive from the jar. Kate declined, her stomach already protesting on one sip of Earl Grey.

Well, the truth was out. Her torn-up marriage was now in the public domain, probably to hit the family grapevine by suppertime. Not as gossip, not really, more as genuine family concern, Jean keeping her two sisters in the know. Strands of support and sympathy from Northumberland and beyond. She wondered how long it would take to reach her cousin out in Canada. There were no siblings of Kate’s own to tell, being an only child. She could have done with a sister right now, someone close to lean on. She was glad they had the two girls; they would always have each other. She could picture Lottie holding little Emily’s hand right now, somewhere at the zoo. How would they feel when Michael came to explain that he wouldn’t be coming home today, not ever? She blinked back a tear.

Michael had a brother, Dan. She wondered if he had told his family yet. Would it be even harder for him having to tell them, being the guilty party? And how would Dorothy and George, his parents, take it? They were lovely people. How would it be for them all from now on? It wasn’t just her and the girls, was it? Michael’s betrayal reached further, affected so many, like circles spreading out from a sinking stone.

“And the girls? How are they?” Peter’s tone softened as he spoke of them, “Where are they today?”

“Michael’s got them, taking them off to the zoo. They don’t really know too much yet.” Kate didn’t add that today was when he was meant to be telling them. Take them to see the lemurs, the lions, the penguins and then sit them down and announce that he wasn’t going to be living with Mummy any more, that he wouldn’t be coming back home with them.

“Well, then, which was your favourite?”

A big sigh came from Emily, her cheeks puffing out. How to possibly choose?

“The lemurs,” Charlotte was decisive, “Aww, they were so cute. And I loved that we could
really
walk through them. With them all just hanging there… And that little baby with his mummy. He had such a funny little face.”

Michael smiled.

Emily was still “Umning” until she came up with “
All
of them. The sealions and the real lions, and the big rhinos-rus, giraffes, monkeys. Oh, oh, and the penguins.”

“Like Happy Feet!” Charlotte joined in, flapping her hands by her ears to show their tufts.

Michael went one better and started doing the penguin walk. Emily giggled, then joined in herself.

“Yeah, they were the Rockhoppers. They were funny, weren’t they?” he said, as he bobbed from side to side.

Emily nodded as she shuffled beside him. Charlotte pulling a face, saying “Da–ad”, but smiling too. Another family passed by them, shooting Michael a bemused look. Charlotte raised her eyebrows to the heavens, “Daddy, people are looking!” He exaggerated the waddle even more, his arms down, hands pointed out to the sides, Emily in fits of giggles now.

“Okay, time for a drink and a snack,” he straightened up, “Anyone hungry?”

“Yes-s” Charlotte answered. Emily nodded.

They approached the white-painted wooden café. There were chairs and tables outside, and a sign with coffee and ice creams on. They were also approaching the time when he would have to tell them.

“Hot chocolate? Coca-cola? An ice cream perhaps?”

Jesus, this was going to be hard. He’d promised Kate he would tell them today. A limited version of the truth. The girls would need to know that he wasn’t coming home, that he wasn’t going to be living with them any more. And it felt as if he had betrayed them as well as Kate. He gulped back a sigh and ruffled a hand through his hair.

“Well then?”

“Ice creams!” came the unanimous reply.

They went in through wooden doors and approached the counter. A young woman in her early twenties smiled across at them.

“Um, a white coffee for me, please. Girls, which ice creams?”

Excited eyes scanned the board by the counter with its various pictures: cones, choc ices, fruity ones, minty ones.

“Smarties one, please.”

“Twister.”

“Okay, that’s it then, I think. Any drinks, girls?”

Emily shook her head, whilst Charlotte asked for a Coca-cola.

“Thanks and a small Coke, then, please.”

The girl gave him a friendly smile. He noticed she had very pretty eyes, an unusual shade of green. But her look suggested that she felt a little sorry for him too – a father on his own. Another Saturday Dad. He smiled back. She probably saw it a lot – a lone father with his children. He was going to have to get used to it. Especially as he’d promised Kate he wouldn’t confuse the girls by introducing Sophie into their lives just yet.

Coffee in a cardboard cup, ice creams in hand, they set off outside to find a bench. It’d be good to sit down a while; he’d left Emily’s buggy in the car and had ended up carrying her quite a bit. It was a warm day; they were lucky enough to get sunshine. He was filled with a sense of gloom. This wasn’t going to be an easy task.

How to find the right words, even after going over and over them last night? Perched on a wooden bench, coffee in hand, the ice creams already half-licked, he cleared his throat, “Girls, I’ve got something I need to tell you… to explain.”

They looked up, eyes wide, noting the serious tone in his voice.

“It’s just… Well… Mummy and I, we’re going to have a bit of time apart. Which means I can’t live at home for now… Not to stay over.” The words were clumsy. He was doing this all wrong, he was sure.

The two pairs of eyes just got bigger.

“I… I can’t live with you at home like I used to.”

“Well, where are you going to go, then?” Charlotte was trying to work things out. “Are you going far away?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“No. NO. Not far away at all. I’ll still be in Alnwick. We’ll just have different houses. But I’ll come and see you both, all the time. And we can go out on trips. And when I get sorted out with my new house, you can come and stay.”

Emily was nodding seriously, licking her ice lolly.

Charlotte launched into a barrage of questions, “Well, where in Alnwick will you be? And why can’t you stay with us and Mummy any more? Don’t you want to come home? Don’t you
like
us any more?”

Whoh, this was going to be tricky. “Oh, Lottie, Em, of course I like you. I love you, both of you. But it’s just got difficult for Mummy and me. And we think we’ll be better just having a break and trying out living on our own.” How did you pitch it for a five and two-and-a-half year old? Without mentioning the fact you had fallen in love with someone else, and without trying to make their mummy seem second best in any way.

“But who will
you
be with?” Lottie’s voice was getting louder.

Emily frowned, concerned now.

“Well, just on my own for now. I’ll be okay.” He tried to keep his tone light. He had promised not to mention Sophie. The lie sat uneasily on his tongue, yet he realised it was necessary. It was too soon, he had to agree with Kate. Too much for them to take in and, to be honest, it was early days for him and Sophie. It all needed time. He looked across at them both, hating the sad look that was filling Emily’s face, her eyes full of confusion. Charlotte’s brow furrowed, ready to quiz him some more.

“Want Daddy home.” Emily’s bottom lip was wobbling.

This was so bloody hard, and yet
he’d
started it all, set it all in motion, by choosing to sleep with another woman. He struggled for a few seconds, trying for their sakes to keep calm, to look as though this wasn’t too big a deal, took a big gulp of coffee. The girls licked at their ice creams. Damn, he needed to make this as positive as possible. He needed to make it better for them than this.

“You know, we’ll go out and be together lots, like today. We can do all sorts of things. And Mummy has my telephone number, so even if I’m not there with you, you can ring me any time you like. Whenever. If there’s anything to tell me about school, or your day, or what you want to do at the weekend.”

“Will you be there to read our stories at bedtime?” Charlotte again.

“Gruff’lo?” Emily joined in.

“Oh, well, I can’t be there every night, but I can do some of them. I’m sure Mummy will let me do lots of the bedtimes. Or maybe I can read a story down the phone.” A sorry substitute, he knew, but it was the best he could offer.

“Oh, okay.” “’Kay”

Well, there was no going back now. The girls knew. The reality of it all tightened in his gut. He wouldn’t be there with them every morning, every night. And then, what about the birthdays, Christmas? It was every separated parent’s nightmare and reality, that juggling act. He forced a reassuring smile at them both. “It’ll all work out fine. It’ll just be a bit different, that’s all.”

“Daddy, do you still love Mummy?” Charlotte’s eyes fixed his.

Oh, Christ. The question caught him off guard. Totally threw him.

“Ah…” trying to think what was the most honest, helpful answer. What was true in all this mess? “Yes, sweetheart, I do.” And it was true. He’d always love Kate. He knew that. It just wasn’t in the way it used to be any more.

“Okay.” That seemed to be enough for Charlotte then. “Can I have some popcorn? I’m still hungry.” And with that the conversation was about to move on.

But he wasn’t quite ready. He still hadn’t had chance to say all of the things that seemed so important last night to get across – the things that he’d been going over and over in his mind. He ransacked his brain, but they seemed to have gone.

“Popcorn, ye-es just a small bag… And girls… if you have anything you want to ask me or Mummy, then that’s fine. Just ask. ‘Cos sometimes it can all be a bit confusing… And I don’t want you to feel like that… And it’s not your fault. Don’t ever worry about that. It’s about me and Mummy.” Still clumsy, he knew, but he was trying.

“O–kay. It’s like Max.” Charlotte again.

“Max?

“Yeah, Max at school. He’s got a Mummy and a Daddy and a second Daddy, the one that he lives with.”

“Hmn, like I say, it can get a bit complicated.” God, the things we do to our kids. And now he was as guilty as the rest of them. No wonder Kate had insisted that he didn’t mention Sophie. One to save for another time, another daytrip, more ice creams and fun, when really you were just tearing all your lives apart.

He stood up, gathering the empty wrappers for the bin. Plastering positivity into his voice, “Popcorn then, that sounds like just the thing!”