Chapter 21
Sally can’t decide who is more excited about the trial switching on of the waterfall, herself or Molly and Wesley. On balance, she thinks it’s her. She’s now on holiday from work and it’s taken three solid days of building, arranging the waterfall stones (and then re-arranging), filling the pond with water, letting it settle, and then planting her beloved pink and white water lilies. Then there was the ‘surprise’ fish for Wesley to sort; she hopes he’ll be thrilled with them. But now it’s ready. At last. Bella, Rose and the children are poised ready for her signal, while she adopts a strong-woman pose, bicep pumped, right foot braced on a rock, a big triumphant smile on her face.
‘Okay, tilt your chin to me a bit,’ Bella says, adjusting her phone camera. ‘Perfect.’
Sally looks at the children who are jointly holding the remote control for the waterfall pump. ‘Ready?’ They nod, and Wesley lets out an ear-splitting shriek. ‘Okay. Five, four, three, two, one. Go!’
They press the button and everyone waits. There’s a hiss and a faint trickle of water cuts through the still afternoon air, then it gets stronger as they all watch the waterfall come to life. The children whoop, Rose cheers, and Bella’s camera phone clicks away as Sally throws back her head with joyful laughter. ‘It worked! It really worked!’ she yells and joins the children in a crazy little dance.
‘Of course it worked,’ Rose says. ‘Because you built it!’
Sally acknowledges a rush of pride, which is quickly overtaken by unease as she notices the water lilies rocking gently on the surface of the pond. Hurrying over, she says to Rose, ‘Are they far enough from the waterfall, as they prefer calm water.’ Sally would be devastated if she had to choose between lilies or waterfall. Though lilies would have to win, as the memory of them is what gave her the idea to do it all in the first place.
‘Yes, turn down the force of the water now, Molly – just let it trickle.’
Molly does as she’s asked, and immediately the lilies stop rocking and Sally is reassured. ‘Perfect.’ Then she takes Wesley’s hand and makes him crouch beside her. ‘Wes, can you see something moving under the lily pad over there?’
Wesley screws up his face in concentration. Then he leaps into the air. ‘Fish! I can see fish!’
‘Yes! Make sure you don’t scare them, though,’ Bella says, crouching down next to him. She looks at Sally. ‘Thanks so much, for making this little man so happy, Sal. It’s really wonderful.’
‘It will be wonderful next week when we have our pond unveiling party,’ Rose says, slipping an arm around Sally’s shoulder. ‘Your hard work has created a thing of beauty and calm. The perfect addition to our memory garden.’
‘Thanks, Rose. I can’t wait. Are you sure I can’t contribute some food or wine?’
‘I’m sure. The evening will be a little thank you to you, as well as a celebration. Talking of which, would you like to stay for dinner? We could have a pre-celebration celebration?’
Sally politely declines and takes her leave. A small part of her would have liked to stay, but most of her wants to go home for a long hot bath and bask in the knowledge that she’s done what she set out to do, all by herself. A challenge she wouldn’t have dreamed of while she was married to Paul. Even if by some miracle she’d come up with the idea, he would have ridiculed it. Ridiculed her.
Sally looks at her naked form in the bathroom mirror and doesn’t turn away ashamed like she did a few months ago. Paul’s poisonous voice whispering in her ears hasn’t disappeared completely, but it’s fading. The Too fat, too flabby, too wrinkly. Always too something is mostly buried under the mounds of earth she’s removed for the pond. Now, although she’s not perfect, but then who is? (And what exactly is perfect anyway?) Sally’s at last comfortable with her appearance. More than comfortable. It’s not just because of the new weight loss and muscle tone, it’s because of a new inner strength that can’t be seen on the outside. Being in that wonderful garden and making the pond has been the making of her too. She’s stronger, confident, happier and open to more challenges. Sally doesn’t know what they are yet, but she knows they’re there – just waiting.
* * *
After her bath, she dresses in shorts and a vest top, has a light meal and plans to put her feet up with a glass of wine. Before the pond build, right about now, she would have felt lonely and wished Paul had been home to keep her company. Now she realises she’s happy that she can do whatever she goddam likes, without him dictating their viewing, or tutting if she has wine on a weeknight. She smiles to herself as she gets the bottle out of the fridge and pours a good measure.
One challenge is already making itself known to her as she settles on the sofa. Paul’s been gone almost five months and for most of that time (though actually, she’s not heard from him for a week or so) he’s pestered her to put the house on the market and asked for a divorce. She’s always put him off, until recently, to her shame, secretly hoping against hope that he’d come to his senses and move back home. But it’s time to do as he asks. It can’t be put off any longer. The house has increased ridiculously in value and the mortgage is almost paid. She should be able to afford a decent house and start again anew, without the memory of how happy she and her husband had once been (at least in the first few years) haunting every room.
Idly flicking through the channels, Sally’s surprised to hear the doorbell – it’s nearly 9.30pm. Odd! She opens the front door and her stomach rolls.
‘Sal, wow! Look at you!’ Paul steps back so he can get a better view, a lascivious smile curving his lips. ‘You’ve lost so much weight, and your hair’s gorgeous in that style. It’s shorter, but shiny and bouncy. You’ve got bigger muscles than me, too.’
He laughs like they’re old friends and this is normal behaviour. Sally wishes she’d put a dressing gown on, because he’s looking at her breasts, which thanks to the chill evening air, are obviously braless under the vest top. She folds her arms over them. ‘What do you want, Paul?’
‘That’s not a very nice welcome. No invite in?’ He turns his bottom lip down like a child. ‘I could have just used my key, but I wanted to be polite.’
‘Oh, how very decent. How can I ever thank you? It’s gone 9.30pm. What’s so important?’ Sally stands her ground and is surprised to see his eyes fill with tears.
‘Please let me in, Sal. I need to talk to you. I have to talk to you.’
Because she can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen him cry, she realises it must be something big and stands to one side. ‘Come in, but you aren’t staying long, okay?’
‘Okay, promise.’
As they walk past the coat hooks in the hall, Sally grabs a hoodie and slips it on. That’s better. In the living room she takes the armchair, he takes the sofa. ‘What’s up?’
Again, to her surprise, Paul wipes a tear and then completely breaks down. Big, snotty, ugly-type crying ensues, with a few wails thrown in for good measure. But this isn’t an act. She knows he’s genuinely broken. Eventually, he blows his nose and says, ‘I’ve made such a mess of everything, Sal. Such a monumental fucking mess! I made a massive mistake going off with Naomi. I realised a little while back that I don’t love her. Not like I love you. I think it only happened because I couldn’t face the fact that I was coming up to fifty. And so, when a twenty-nine-year-old showed interest, my head was turned. Stupid, I know.’ He looks straight at her and gives a watery smile. ‘Thank God you didn’t agree to the divorce and sell this place when I asked. You knew deep down that I’d come back with my tail between my legs, didn’t you? You always were the wise one.’
Sally stares at him, incredulous. She can hardly process his words. He’s actually saying he wants to come home, after everything he put her through. The heartache, the trauma, the excruciating, almost physical pain. And for what? Because he made a mistake? His poor little head was turned because he was getting older. She should take him back, just like that? She feels like she wants to laugh, but she wants to punch him more. How dare he? How dare he do this to her? How dare he treat her like she was something on his shoe for all those years too, and make her believe somehow that was what love looked like?
It dawns on her that not long ago she would have been overjoyed, would have pulled him into her embrace, thanked God that he was home. It’s then that she realises how far she’s come. How much she’s grown, how far behind her she’s left the downtrodden, pathetic mess she used to be. The woman he turned her into. Sally wipes away tears and stares at him, her heart thumping, contempt building in her chest.
‘I can see you’re shocked, sweetheart. I was too when I realised I wanted you back, and that I’d made this gigantic…’ He gesticulates wildly, apparently searching for the word.
‘Mistake. Yeah, you said.’ Her voice sounds as cold as the chill running through her blood.
Paul pushes his floppy dark hair, now strangely free of grey, from his forehead and fixes her with apologetic green eyes. ‘I can tell you’re angry. And you’ve a right to be.’
‘Don’t tell me what I have a right to be. You don’t get to tell me how to think, or feel, or look, anymore, Paul. Ever.’ She says this quietly, but the anger in her tone is abundantly clear.
He holds his hands up in surrender and looks sheepish. ‘I’m sorry. Truly … but I have just three words for you: “I love you.”’ Paul’s serene smile makes her want to spit in his face. Then she looks at him some more and her anger abates. She decides she won’t even waste negative energy on him now. He doesn’t deserve it. He deserves nothing from her.
Sally stands up and turns to face him at the door. ‘And I have three words for you. Pin back your ears and listen carefully, because they’re very important. Fuck off, Paul.’