Chapter Twenty-Three
Michael clearly doesn’t want to leave as he continues to try and make amends. I am struggling to deal with him, and if the girls weren’t here, I would insist he leave. However, they’re enjoying us all being together for the first time in a long while, so I bite my tongue, despite being fit to burst. I try my best to ignore him, but I resolve that this is the last time he is coming round. I will make sure of it.
‘Isn’t that new ITV drama starting tonight?’ says Jasmine.
‘I know the one. I was going to watch that at home on my own. It’d be much nicer to watch it with my girls,’ says Michael.
Jasmine takes charge of the remote control, switching the TV to the channel.
‘Dad, do you want me to get you a beer?’ says Poppy as she helps herself to the fridge.
She hasn’t asked me if I want anything. I make a face and tell her I’ll get my own drink. She smiles at her dad as she hands him one of the beers. At least he hasn’t asked to share the bottle of wine he brought over.
‘Ah, just like old times, isn’t it?’ says Michael.
‘Yes, well, you do love a good drama, Michael,’ I say with a hint of sarcasm.
‘Don’t spoil this lovely evening with one of your funny menopausal moods now, Mam,’ says Poppy.
I squint my eyes at Poppy in a bid to warn her not to dare go down that road.
‘Ooh, it’s starting,’ says Jasmine, turning the volume up on the remote.
I shake my head and take a big – make that huge – glug of wine. I take another as I see my phone is ringing. I don’t need to look to know that it will be Elias trying again.
‘This looks good, doesn’t it?’ says Michael. I note how he sinks further into the sofa snuggled between Poppy and Jasmine, making himself ever more comfortable.
‘Isn’t this lovely, Dad?’ says Poppy, raising a glass to him.
I remind myself that this is their dad, who they love so much, as I look at the three of them in their element. Then I turn away and look at the TV in case I pop. I tell myself that it’s just for a bit longer, and then I can get him out of here.
During the adverts, I take my phone to the toilet with me. Locking the door, I stand behind it, checking my phone. Elias has called three times, and there is a message.
Tried calling a few times as agreed. Couldn’t get a reply. Maybe we
can talk in the morning? Sweet dreams, lovely xx
I quickly type back and plan a time for the morning and then return to the lounge, where Poppy has now opened some crisps and is sharing them around as they all noisily debate whether the main actress was from a soap they love or not. As I observe them debating and jokingly arguing between themselves, I start to feel guilty, as though I have been cheating on them. One minute I was enjoying being a free woman, and now it is as though I dreamed my trip to the French Riviera, where I felt so carefree. It’s obvious that the girls feel I should give Michael a second chance, and after just one evening, I am starting to feel like I am cheating on them by messaging Elias. What is going on ? This is ridiculous. Why did Michael have to decide he was sorry now? He wasn’t sorry when we went through the divorce. He carried on thinking it gave him freedom to do whatever he chose. Now he is making me feel as though it is my fault that he finally realises the grass isn’t greener out there. Somehow, after everything he has done, I will be the bad guy if I put an end to all this and the girls will blame me.
Poppy and Jasmine finally decide to head off to bed once the programme finishes, but Michael is still hanging around. It occurs to me that he has had a few beers in front of the telly and that he must be over the limit to drive home. I hope he is planning on a taxi and isn’t going to suggest staying here. I start to clear all the glasses and crisp packets up as a hint that it is time to leave. My yawns get bigger, and still he won’t take the hint, so I firmly tell him I am going to bed and he’ll have to call a cab. I have given him far too much of my patience for one night.
‘I thought I’d stay over if that’s okay? The girls are here, it’d be like being a family again all waking up together,’ says Michael.
‘I’ve only got two bedrooms. Where did you expect to sleep?’ I ask, coldly.
He gives me that face again.
‘Don’t even think about it.’
Since I am tired and want to get to bed, I eventually agree he can sleep on the sofa. I am mad with myself as I know I should make him leave, but the thought of the girls hearing that I made him go home when they so obviously wanted him here just takes the fight out of me. I tell myself it is just one night. But, still, it feels wrong having him here. This is my home, and he has never been a part of my life in this flat. This is the place I bought after he broke my heart, where I found refuge and worked hard to pick up the pieces after his devastating affair. Now he feels that he can walk back in, eat here, watch my telly and even sleep here. I am feeling very resentful towards him right now. How dare he do this to me!
I hurry to my room as he starts stripping off his shirt and trousers to sleep on the sofa in his underwear.
He laughs. ‘Why are you rushing off? It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before.’ Even though he is technically right, and we were married for so many years, it feels incredibly sleazy as he says it, and I am shocked that he doesn’t seem to realise this.
I am glad to escape to bed where I read the goodnight message from Elias again. Then I scroll through the photos I took on the yacht, in restaurants, and of the scenery we enjoyed together. It is such a world away from Michael on the sofa in those stripy pants he insists on wearing that make him look like one of the Bananas in Pyjamas.
I look at Michael now and feel nothing. A year ago, I didn’t believe I would ever feel happy again, and I realise just how special Elias made me feel. I don’t need the yacht, the money, or the fancy locations, I just want to be back in his arms. I think of those muscles he has from all that manual work; his hands aren’t smooth like Michael’s, who works in an office, but they tell a story. Elias’s hands will always show how hard he has worked during his lifetime, and whilst he got lucky winning such a huge amount on the lottery, he also lost his precious wife, who he would have swapped any amount of money for.
Conversely, Michael has always lived an easy life. He landed his job with a good pension straight from school, he is fifty-five with both parents still alive, unlike mine, both lost before I was forty. He has no idea what it feels like to lose someone he loves to cancer, or how hard it is to work outside in all weathers as he sits inside his warm office enjoying intermittent tea breaks and nibbling on Hobnobs. When I close my eyes there is only one person who is on my mind, and it is certainly not my ex-husband.
I forget that Michael has stayed over until I stumble into my living room half asleep and see those long, familiar legs hanging off the edge of the sofa.
I bang the kettle and run the water as loudly as I can in the hope that I wake him up. I figure the sooner he is up, the sooner I can get him out of here. Eventually, I see his head stick up above the sofa.
‘Good morning, love.’ Michael cricks his neck and stretches out his arms, giving a large groan. ‘Would’ve been much comfier in the bed. Hardly slept a wink.’
‘Oh, that’s funny because you were snoring when I got up. Anyway, now you’re awake, it’s probably time to head home, hey?’
‘There’s no rush, is there? I thought we could take the girls down Mumbles for an ice cream. You know, like we used to when they were small.’
‘They’re grown up now. They don’t need an ice cream.’
‘Did someone say ice cream for breakfast?’ says Poppy, walking out into the living room in her pyjamas with one eye open and rubbing the other.
‘You heard right. You up for ice cream?’
‘Oh yeah. I’d love that. Let me wake up a bit first though.’
‘There’s no rush. We’ve got all day, haven’t we, Lucy?’
‘Well, no. I have to work.’
‘What? It’s not like you’ve got a proper job any more, is it? Or do you mean writing stuff on that laptop of yours? Surely you can do that anytime.’
I glare at Michael. ‘Well, I’ve given myself a deadline. I want to send it out to publishers soon, not keep it on my laptop forever. Anyhow, haven’t you got to be at work?’
‘Flexi-day.’
‘And Poppy. I thought you two were supposed to be on study leave?’
‘Yeah. Ice cream helps feed our brains, though.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘Just like old times, hey, babe?’ grins Michael.
I walk out of the room before I scream at him in front of the girls. Oh boy, if they weren’t here now, he wouldn’t know what had hit him. I always promised myself that I would hide any contempt for Michael in front of the girls to protect them. Now he is sat in my lounge, insisting we spend the day together as if he has never done anything wrong in his life, and this promise is proving harder to keep than I could ever have imagined.
Jasmine runs after me.
‘Mam, I think Dad’s really trying. He’s learnt that he made a stupid mistake. He told us. Why don’t you give him a chance? Let’s just have a nice day with him.’
‘You’ve all got to respect that I’ve work to do today. I have a lot on. I’ll come for an ice cream with you – in my own car – and then I’m coming back to work.’
I am not playing happy families with Michael, not even for the sake of the girls. I figure if I agree to an ice cream with them all then it will get him out of my flat.
I turn on my heel and jump in the shower, letting the hot water run over me as I try to reclaim my patience with Michael. Then I sit on the bed in a towel and message Elias.
Have a wonderful day. Hope to see you soon xx
He messages back immediately.
I was thinking, there’s plenty of trains from Manchester to Swansea.
How about I come down and visit? Shall we plan something when we speak
later? Xx
Although I had arranged a time when we could talk, it’s not looking likely with everyone hanging around. I need to get Michael and the girls out of earshot. As for Elias coming to Swansea, as much as I would love that, I can’t imagine the girls’ response if Elias comes down in the middle of them plotting to get their parents back together.
So, instead of doing what I want, I go out for an ice cream and watch the clock as Michael reminisces about anything he can think of as we stand on the beach with our 99s. When a gust of wind blows in Michael’s face, and he gets a mouthful of sand, it keeps him quiet for a moment. I try to look concerned as he splutters about. Looking at him being over-dramatic, I realise that any feelings between me and him are well and truly gone. He might think he can rekindle this relationship, but as I watch him with disdain, I realise that this ship has most certainly sailed.