Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DOUGLAS
I’m eating prawns, which is hardly unusual. If someone were to compile a list of things Douglas Fraser does on any given evening, eats prawns would rank somewhere between checks the weather forecast and steps on a piece of Lego. What is unusual is that tonight I’m alone at the kitchen table.
The twins are with Leah—she’s taken them out for dinner. And instead of being pleased that for once I get to eat the day’s catch without anyone groaning, “Prawns again?”, I’m sitting here acutely aware of how quiet the house is.
I check my phone. Nothing from Leah, and nothing from Ellie either.
I’ve sent her two texts this evening. Both have been read, neither answered.
The first was simply Hi, good day? The second, sent about forty minutes later when I couldn’t help myself, was a bit keener: Got some news. Call me when you’re free?
She hasn’t called yet, but I’m aware she has a life outside of her interactions with me. She’s probably at her mum’s.
I just need to be patient. Still, it’s hard when I’m desperate to tell her my news. I only did a half-day on the boat today. This afternoon I went to an appointment I’ve been putting off for a very long time. It feels too important for a text.
I finish my dinner and am just starting on the dishes when there’s a knock at the front door. I dry my hands on a tea towel and go to answer it. No sooner have I opened it than Logan is squeezing past me inside, Rosie following right behind him.
Leah smiles at me. She’s dressed up, as always—heels, fitted jacket, handbag over one shoulder. “We had a lovely meal,” she says. “And not a prawn in sight!”
I don’t react to that, but when Leah lived with us, she hated it when I served us what I’d caught that day. Moaned about it more than the kids do now. Easy enough to complain when you’re not the one sorting dinner.
Logan drops onto the bottom step to tug off his shoes. “I like prawns.”
“Me too,” Rosie says.
And then they’re gone, thundering upstairs to their room.
Huh. I can’t remember either of them ever reacting to prawns with anything other than a groan.
I turn back to Leah, ready to say goodnight and close the door, but she’s leaning against the doorframe, arms folded loosely, like a neighbour who’s popped round for a chat and has nowhere else to be. She’s still smiling, and something about it makes the back of my neck prickle.
“Rosie was very quiet tonight,” she says. “I couldn’t get much out of her.”
Aye, well, I think to myself, that’ll happen when you drop into their lives without warning. But I don’t say that.
“Maybe she’s confused,” Leah goes on, “because she doesn’t know whether her dad loves her mum or another woman.”
Unbelievable. She thinks it’s my fault. Always my fault. Never have I known anyone so allergic to responsibility, or so blind to her own flaws. Still, I don’t bite. I refuse to be drawn into an argument.
At least, not until Leah says, “Anyway, I don’t think your friend at the library will be bothering you anymore.”
I frown. “What does that mean?”
Leah arches a brow but says nothing.
“What the hell does that mean, Leah? What have you done?”
She examines her nails. “I had a little chat with her mother, Anne. Lovely woman. Very traditional, very principled. She had no idea that her daughter is involved with a married man and has been trying to break up a family.”
I stare at her. Surely she didn’t just say that. Surely even Leah isn’t that cruel. But the look on her face tells me she is.
“You went to a seventy-two-year-old woman,” I say quietly, “a woman with a chronic illness, a woman who depends on her daughter for everything. And you told her—what, exactly? That Ellie’s breaking up a marriage? Our marriage has been dead for years.”
“I only told her the truth, Douglas. You are married. We do have children. She deserves to know what kind of situation her daughter is getting herself into.”
Something in me goes cold. “No. Don’t dress this up like concern. You didn’t do it for Anne, and you didn’t do it for the twins either. You did it because you wanted to hurt Ellie. Because you can’t stand the thought of someone else making me happy.”
“Douglas, I was just trying to—”
“I went to see a solicitor today about filing for divorce,” I say. “It’s happening.”
Silence. Leah’s composure slips, but she quickly squares her shoulders and smooths her expression. “On what grounds?” she asks with forced calm.
“The solicitor said we can divorce if we both agree and have been separated for a year, or if one of us refuses but it’s been two years. We’ve been separated a lot longer than two years, so it doesn’t matter whether you want this or not. A bit of paperwork, and then we’re done.”
She puts a hand on her hip and cocks her head. “That’s interesting, because I have stayed at this house at times over the last two years.”
“Aye, but not as husband and wife.”
“Well.” A smile. “It’s your word against mine.”
I shouldn’t even be surprised, but God, why is she like this? I’m done with this conversation. “My solicitor will be in touch,” I say, taking hold of the door handle. “You can cooperate, or you can fight it. Either way, it’s happening.”
I make to close the door, but Leah puts her hand on it, holding it open. Christ, she’s still not done.
“Dinner tonight was expensive,” she says. “And the Harbour Inn isn’t cheap. I could do with a top-up from my husband.”
She speaks to Anne behind Ellie’s back. She threatens to fight the divorce. And she still expects me to give her a handout? She truly has no shame.
“Goodnight, Leah,” I say, and I close the door.
I stand in the hall, my hand still on the handle. My heart is going fast, and my jaw aches from how hard I’ve been clenching it. I take a few moments to calm myself, then head upstairs to check on the twins.
They’re perched on Rosie’s bottom bunk, each with a little army of toys laid out in front of them, and the two sides are engaged in a furious battle. Logan is providing dramatic sound effects.
“You two all right?” I ask from their doorway.
“Aye,” Rosie says, glancing up only to flash me a smile before turning back to the fight.
Logan grins and gives me a thumbs-up, then goes straight back to making explosion noises.
Well, they at least seem fine. I watch them play for a while longer, then head back downstairs.
I check my phone. Still nothing from Ellie. After what Leah just told me, I reckon there’s more to her silence than I first thought. I call her.
“Hi, Douglas.” Two words, and I can already hear it: she’s hurting. “Sorry, I was meaning to respond to your messages, but—”
“But Leah spoke to your mum today.”
She sniffs. “You know.”
“I only just found out. I’m so sorry, Ellie. I never wanted you to get hurt.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Aye, but—” I stop. I can hear the anger in my own voice, and I force it down because this isn’t about me being angry.
It’s about Ellie knowing I’m on her side.
“You tell me what I can do for you, Ellie, and I’ll do it.
Also, I know this doesn’t sort things with your mum, but I saw a solicitor today.
That’s what I texted you about earlier. I’ve started the divorce process.
Leah might try to fight it, but it’s happening. ”
Ellie sniffs again. “Okay. That’s good.”
Christ, hearing her like this is awful. I want to fix this, but I don’t know how.
“Can I see you?” I say. “I can drop the twins at my parents’ for an hour and pop round.”
“No. Don’t disturb your parents, Douglas.”
“Then you come here.”
She hesitates, and for a second I think she might say yes. I can almost hear her considering it. But she says, “I wouldn’t be good company tonight. I just need to sit with this for a while. I’ll be all right.”
I hate the thought of her in that cottage by herself, hurting, while I’m here unable to do a single thing about it. “I don’t like you being on your own with this, Ellie.”
“I know, but I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Before I can argue further, there’s a clatter of footsteps on the stairs, then Rosie appears. “Da, I won the war fair and square, but now Logan says all his soldiers have become zombies, and I don’t like it. It’s too scary.”
On the other end of the line, there’s a small choked sound, almost a laugh. Ellie obviously heard that. “Go,” she says, and there’s warmth in her voice, despite everything. “Sort out the zombies. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I say.
The call ends. For a moment I don’t move but just hold the phone, my chest aching. Then Rosie tugs my sleeve, and I follow her upstairs to have a word with my son.