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Chapter Nine

SAL

The weekend passes without any incidents, and the calm and tranquillity carry on into the following week. Things always seem to follow the same pattern – I do something you are not happy with, you go crazy, and punish me in various ways, depending on how you feel – sometimes you’ll get physical, other times I will just be cold-shouldered for days at a time – then, when you decide that I’ve been punished enough, that’s it. It’s over. You remind me of how I am nothing without you and how you will die without me – you love me that much; and then I am expected to behave as if nothing has happened. Sometimes I wish I were strong enough to stand up to you, to tell you that things aren’t over when you decide – that maybe I’m not ready to forgive you just yet. Maybe I want to cold-shoulder you and sulk until I feel I am ready to resolve things. The one time I did try to walk away, the one time I told you that enough was enough, you locked yourself away in the bathroom, hysterical and ranting, with a packet of razor blades and a bottle of whisky. Needless to say, after that I’ve never been brave enough to try again – I let you get away with it time and again, in the hope that this will be the last time. Hoping against all hope that the next part of the cycle, the perfect part where everything is OK and you’re happy and it really feels as though we’re a proper family, will continue and become normal for us, instead of this never-ending roller coaster.

This time, the exhausting cycle continues as it usually does; you go to work in a good mood every day, and come home in much the same vein. You spend time with Maggie in the evenings, and during the day Maggie and I work in our little vegetable garden, weeding and hoeing and picking treats to add to our dinner every night. I start to feel like I can breathe again, like I can relax and start to enjoy spending time with you, until the next time. Hoping with all my heart that there isn’t going to be a next time. On Friday evening you make an announcement.

‘I’ve got a big client day tomorrow. I have to take the Otex guys on a corporate golf day; things are not moving along on that case as quickly as they would like and Pavlenco isn’t happy. I need to keep them sweet, so I’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning.’

‘OK,’ I say. ‘Maggie and I will miss you. Do you know what time you’ll be back? Maybe if you’re back early enough we could all do something together?’ I am secretly a little bit relieved that you won’t be around – things are so much easier when I don’t have to worry about tiptoeing around you, although Maggie will be upset that you’re not there. With a bit of luck you’ll have a good day and this relaxed, contented part of the cycle can continue unbroken.

‘Late. It’s breakfast, eighteen holes and drinks afterwards. I’m not sure what time we’ll finish, but I’ll call you when I’m leaving. You’ll be home all day anyway, won’t you? You don’t have anything planned.’ It’s a statement, not a question, and I don’t want to risk riling you, so I agree.

‘No. No, nothing planned. I’ll just do some tidying up, potter round after Maggie. The vegetable patch will need weeding so we can sort that out. Hopefully this weather will keep up and Mags can play out in the paddling pool.’ The heatwave still hasn’t broken and, although I am happy to wear shorts around the house, my legs still haven’t quite healed enough for me to brave wearing shorts outside yet.

‘Well, good. You two can have a lovely day in the garden again, can’t you? And I’ll need my work shirts ironing before Monday.’

‘Of course, don’t worry, it’ll all be done. You go and have a good time.’

‘It’s not about a good time, Sal. It’s work. You’d understand that if you actually still went to work. It’s about keeping the client sweet, making sure this merger goes through, so that I still have a job and can keep supporting you. I don’t think you quite understand the pressure I’m actually under, trying to make sure this deal goes through smoothly.’

I swallow and nod, your prickly mood meaning I am on edge again. I should have known it wouldn’t last, that the cycle would continue.

‘I do, Charlie, I do understand. And we really appreciate everything you do, Maggie and I; we do appreciate it, I promise, all the long hours and hard work, and we love you for it.’ Placated, you nod and I breathe a sigh of relief. For a moment there I wasn’t too sure which way things would go, and I realise that I am constantly living on a knife-edge, where even one sentence taken in slightly the wrong manner can mean the difference between war and peace.

Saturday morning dawns bright and sunny, the heatwave persisting for another day, it seems. You are back to being in a good mood, thankfully, after last night’s tense exchange between us, and when the Otex guys turn up to pick you up in a huge black car with tinted windows, I help you out with your golf clubs. Before you get in the car you turn to me, a frown wrinkling your brow as you clasp my forearm.

‘See you later. Don’t call because I’ll be on the golf course most of the day, I’ll call you when I’m done. And don’t worry about dinner. I’m taking these guys to Gaucho for a meal after.’

‘OK.’ I kiss your cheek and smile into the car. ‘Have a good time. I’ll see you later.’

As I wave you off, Laura appears in her front garden. ‘Morning,’ she calls, waving me over despite obviously having only just woken up. She’s standing in her pyjamas with flip-flops on her feet, red hair tangled around her shoulders.

‘Where’s Charlie off to today? ‘

‘Golf. Some corporate thing with the Otex lot – you know, the big merger case? They’re playing all day, and Charlie said not to do dinner, so I’m alone all day.’

‘Free all day, you mean.’ Laura gives me a wicked smile. She doesn’t particularly like you, saying that you are too controlling and need to learn to lighten up a little. You, on the other hand, think Laura is ‘rough’, and don’t particularly like her either. The thing with you, though, is that it’s never made obvious if you don’t like somebody – you are charm personified to his or her face. Your ability to put on a completely different persona for other people is quite unsettling at times; it’s like you’re completely changed, not at all the Charlie I know. You can easily hide the fact that we’ve just had a row if someone turns up unexpectedly, while I have every emotion written all over my face. While I do agree with Laura’s opinion to a certain extent, as the other half in our relationship I have to defend you when Laura starts picking at things. Another reason, among others, why I can never tell Laura quite how bad things can get between us.

‘So? You’re not just going to stay in, are you? It’s another beautiful day and I’ve hardly seen you all week! You can’t just hide away in doors waiting for big, bad Charlie to get home. Let’s go to the beach – the kids can play and have a splash, we can get some chips, ice cream, maybe take them for a walk along the pier? What do you say?’ Laura looks at me expectantly, her hands tying her pyjama cord into knots. I pause and think for a moment. You said not to call, because you would be on the golf course all day, so surely that means you won’t be able to call me until after you’ve all finished? If I take my mobile with me, I can always say I’ve taken Maggie to the park for a play on the swings, but chances are, if you’re going for dinner with the Otex guys, I’ll have until at least early evening before I hear from you at all. The sun is beating down on me already, despite the early hour, and I realise I just can’t face the thought of another day at home, trying to keep Maggie occupied. At the thought of Maggie, stuck indoors for yet another day because you don’t trust me when we go out, my decision is made.

‘OK, sod it. Let’s do it. Beach, here we come!’ I grin as Laura squeals and bursts out laughing, making me laugh in the process.

‘Excellent! Give me an hour. I have to go and shower and make myself beautiful. I’ll knock when I’m ready.’

Sure enough, an hour later Laura is tapping at the front door, a huge bag slung over her shoulder, Fred crooked in one arm and Lucy bouncing around by her feet. Maggie runs out the front door and squeezes Lucy in a bear hug.

‘We’re going to the beach, Lucy! And there’s going to be chips and ice cream and we can make a sandcastle and go paddling and …’ Fizzing with excitement, Maggie pauses to take a breath to carry on her epic speech.

‘OK, Mags, we get it. Let’s go. The sooner we leave, the sooner we arrive!’ I scoop her up and carry her to the car, where I buckle her in before helping Laura pack her huge bag into the boot. Seeing Maggie this excited about a trip to the beach makes me feel hideously guilty for keeping her at home all week, even though I don’t feel as though I had any other option. I am angry with myself for being so weak and pliable when it comes to you and your demands, ashamed of myself for bending to your will in exchange for a quiet life. A sweep of anger washes over me towards you, for making me feel I can’t do things like this with Maggie all the time, for making me fear the outcome of a trip somewhere nice, all because of your uncontrollable jealousy and fear that I will leave given half the chance.

The day passes in a heat-filled haze, the children spending the morning splashing through the waves and building elaborate sandcastles, only to knock them flat two minutes later. Laura and I take it in turns to keep an eye on them, especially near the water, and when it’s my turn to watch them, Laura drags her Kindle out of her bag and turns onto her stomach to tan her back. I walk down to the water’s edge where the kids are overturning stones to see if they can find any life underneath.

‘Kids, if you want to find living things I’ll take you over to the rock pools. Come on. Grab your buckets and spades and we’ll go exploring.’ Maggie and Lucy clap their hands and make a grab for their buckets, while poor old Fred just looks bemused.

‘Come on, Freddie.’ I take Fred by the hand and follow the girls, who are racing ahead to the rock pools. We find a good-sized pool, water slightly warmed by the heat of the day, and start flipping over slimy, seaweed-covered rocks in search of any form of sea creature we can find – the girls shrieking in delight at a tiny jellyfish, while Fred finds a dead crab fascinating. We fill plastic buckets with seawater and the girls add their treasures to them, pieces of coral, shells and crab legs all making their way into our haul. An hour later, we return to where Laura has obviously given up on her book and fallen asleep. I ever so gently tip one of the buckets over her back, splashing her with cold sea water, and she jumps up shrieking.

‘Bloody hell, Sal, you git! I’m soaked! And I was having a very enjoyable dream in which Johnny Depp was telling me how much he loves a red-head.’ She shakes herself off and sits back down on the beach towel next to Lucy and Maggie. ‘What have you got there?’

Maggie grins up at her. ‘We’ve got a hermit crab, and a little tiny fish, see?’

‘Sal helped us find them,’ Lucy pipes up, sloshing seawater from the bucket in her haste to show her mother.

‘Well, aren’t you lucky?’ Laura smiles down at them both. ‘You’re both incredibly lucky to have Sal.’ Her eyes flick to my bare legs, exposed to the sun after even I couldn’t justify wearing jeans to the beach, to the marks that are still visible from the hot lasagne a week ago and, grateful that she doesn’t question me, I say nothing.

We spend the afternoon at the pier, watching the fishermen casting their lines, and when Fred is so exhausted he can’t walk any more but refuses to be pushed in the buggy we head back to the car. By the time we pull up on our driveway all three children are fast asleep in the back. I turn to Laura, who has been uncharacteristically quiet on the drive home.

‘Thanks for today, Laur. I didn’t realise quite how badly I needed it.’ I turn the car off and unclip my seatbelt.

‘Sal? Is there anything you want to talk to me about?’ Laura gazes at me steadily, forcing me to look away and fiddle with my shirt buttons.

‘What? No. Of course not. What do you mean?’ I swallow nervously. There really is nothing at this moment in time that I want to talk to Laura, or anyone, about. I’ve tried that before and it’s safe to say that it wasn’t a success.

‘Your legs, Sal. What happened to your legs? It looks like they’re burnt. And you were wearing jeans last week, even though it was really hot, like you wanted to cover them up, or something. Then you just stayed home all week. Like you weren’t allowed to leave the house. Please, Sal; if there’s something wrong, please tell me. I’m your friend; I want to help you.’ She reaches out a hand towards me, but seems to change her mind at the last minute, dropping it back into her lap.

‘My legs are fine, Laura. Fine. I dropped a hot dish, that’s all, and it splashed up. I wore jeans because that’s what I wanted to wear and I stayed home because I didn’t want to go out. There’s nothing sinister going on, and I don’t need you making out like there is, OK? I went out with you today, didn’t I?’ I feel myself getting angry and defensive, even though I know Laura is only trying to help, but I can’t, I can’t, talk to her about it. It would only make things worse.

‘OK.’ Laura opens the car door and swings her legs out, before turning back to me, her gaze unwavering. ‘But remember, Sal, I’m only next door, I’m always only next door, whenever you need me.’ She pulls a sleeping Fred out from his car seat and I sit for a moment, unsure of what to say, before deciding to say nothing. Reaching in to unclip Lucy from her car seat, I breathe in the scent of Laura’s perfume, a stain on the air left by her presence in the car, and wish, beyond everything, that I could tell her.