Chapter 32
Finlay’s house resided on the outskirts of the city, in the innermost nook of a cul-de-sac not far from the River Clyde.
A white-bricked home with bay windows and a lush green front yard, she couldn’t help but wonder how it was he’d managed to afford the place – nor how it was fair that, while she’d struggled to get out of her mum’s house for almost a year, he’d been living comfortably.
“What do you think?” His face was smug as she tried to find …
well, anything. An emotion, a feeling, an attachment.
It was supposed to represent something, wasn’t it?
Hope, growth, moving forward? She was supposed to feel positive, maybe even excited that the children would have a nice, big garden and bedrooms to play in.
But she only felt hollow, and perhaps a little bitter as she regarded the red door and small garage.
It didn’t have to feel like home, because it wasn’t, she convinced herself. Not for her, anyway. So she gave him a tight nod of approval. “Nice. Really nice.”
“Told you you’d love it.” He took Brook’s hand, which was still sticky from his bubblegum ice cream, and motioned to Sky instead of forcing his touch. Her heart eased at the progress. He’d actually listened, this time. “C’mon, lads. I’ll show you your room.”
“We have our own room?” Brook questioned excitedly, and the two of them dashed inside together.
With Saff’s tiny hand in hers, Eiley climbed up the steep steps and into the entryway. A hallway led to a bright kitchen that she was almost certain would go unused most nights. Finlay didn’t cook, unless instant noodles or reheated Chinese takeaway counted.
She followed the other door into the living room, which was also surprisingly modern, albeit a little empty.
A big TV faced the grey leather couches, and a cabinet with a couple of books – children’s books – and trinkets filled the back wall.
Besides that, it was as though nobody lived here.
There were no photographs on the walls, no books on the shelves, not even any curtains over the bay windows.
No toys, she noted as an afterthought, biting down on her annoyance.
If it weren’t for the grotty work boots in the corner and the collection of coats on the rack, she’d think he’d rented this place for the weekend.
“Oh, look, Saff. Daddy has Peter Rabbit here.” The book spines were tattered, but she still warmed to see he’d put thought into it, knowing how important they were to Eiley. She’d grown up with Beatrix Potter and wanted the children to do the same.
She crouched to take one of the books, only to frown at crumpled papers on the shelf above. They’d been wedged behind his signed photograph of a Formula 1 racer she’d forgotten the name of as though he’d tried to hide them in a rush – but not well, because the big red print was still visible.
And since she refused to give him the benefit of the doubt a second time today, she pulled them out.
Adhesive tape was still stuck to the corners of the first note, as though it had only just been ripped.
Eviction notice, it warned.
Of course. Had he seen this on the way in and rushed to hide it? Did he think her so naive, so unobservant, that she wouldn’t find it, or at least figure out something was wrong?
She clenched the letters tightly and picked up Saffron, marching up the stairs.
The sound of giddy voices led her into a room painted sky-blue with two sleeping bags laid out on the floor.
One of them was patterned with footballs, the other with rocket ships; typical boyish things that the lads weren’t interested in.
Brook and Sky had already managed to fill the floor with faded action figurines, though Sky was more interested in the texture of the soft white rug than joining Brook’s super-secret mission.
Finlay watched with a vindicated grin she wanted to wipe straight off his face. He turned to Eiley as though to say, Look at them. Look at what I did. Look how great I am for making my kids happy for half a day, despite the fact it’s all a lie.
She put Saffron down to let her play – to let them talk. Finlay’s eyes darted to the letters in her hands, and his bravado fell away. “Have you been going through my stuff?”
“If finding these half-hidden behind a photo frame is going through your stuff, then yes.”
He had the nerve to appear angry. “Eiley—”
“You don’t have any money, do you?”
“I …” He grappled for words for a moment, then must have decided it was no longer worth lying. “Because I skinted myself buying this house, trying to put our family back together!”
Usually, she would flinch at his loud bellow.
Today, she wouldn’t feel small. Not for him.
“Look, I don’t care if you have money or not.
I struggle every day. We all do. That doesn’t make us bad parents.
What I do care about is the fact that you’ve lied to me.
You told me you’re back on your feet, that you have everything the kids could need. You haven’t even bought them beds !”
“I’m going to, okay? I’m going to get it all back.”
“ How ? I mean, do you even have a new job, or was that a lie, too?”
He itched his nose, looking away. “I’m working on it.”
She scoffed. “I don’t know why I keep expecting better from you. You’ve shown me over and over again who you are.”
“Eiley.” He tried to take her hands, but she refused with a firm step away. “ Eils . You and me, we’re supposed to be together. Aye, I’m not perfect, but you knew that when you met me. I’m trying here. And I swear to god, I’m due a big payout.”
She frowned, perplexed. “What kind of payout?”
Finlay pursed his lips, regret sinking into his brows. Like he’d said too much.
“If you don’t tell me the whole truth now, I’m leaving and you won’t ever see us again. What kind of payout?” she gritted out.
His attention fixed onto a crack in the plaster behind her. “I’ve been betting.”
Of course he had. It was just one ridiculous mistake after another with him.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said quickly. “I’ve got a system.”
“So, how much of your money have you thrown away on this?” Rage fizzed inside her, ready to explode the second she loosened its lid.
“I’ll win it back.”
“ Clearly .” And in the meantime, she supposed she would be the one paying for lunch and dessert and whatever else he couldn’t afford when he threw it all away.
“Can’t you just trust me on this?”
“ Trust you?” she finally erupted. “Why on earth would I ever trust you? All you’ve ever done is throw us away!
Throw everything away! Your money, your values, your commitments!
While you drink and gamble and lie, I am raising our kids, day in, day out!
The kids that you left, because you couldn’t be bothered with the work! ”
He nudged her towards the door. “Will you shut up? The kids can hear you.”
“Good. They should know that their father is a waste of space.” And yet she still felt guilty when she turned to see Brook and his action man suspended in shock; Sky covering his ears to block out the noise.
“Mum,” Brook said, voice small, “I want to go home to Nanna’s.”
“We’re going home, munchkin.” And then, to Finlay: “Call me a cab and say goodbye.”
Finlay grabbed her arm suddenly, a sharp pain burrowing through her skin. His eyes were wild, swimming with something that scared her. Something she’d never seen before. “Don’t do this. Please . I’m not letting you leave. You promised me a weekend.”
“I promised you nothing,” she spat. “Get off me, Fin. You can’t keep us here. It’s over.”
“I’ll take this to court if I have to. They’re my kids, too.”
Her blood went cold, but she refused to shrink against the threat. No fair court would let him near her kids again. “Then you don’t love them the way you say, because you and I both know you’re not fit to be a father. They’re happier and healthier and safer without you.”
Slowly, his grip slackened. She rubbed the tender place where his fingernails had bitten into her, shuddering. It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered whether a violence simmered beneath his surface, but it was the first time the possibility had marked her skin.
And the last. “I’ll give you one chance to not let this be their last memory of you,” she whispered. “They deserve a proper goodbye.”
“I want to fix this—”
“You can’t. You never could. Not without admitting you have a problem first.”
Tears shimmered in Finlay’s muddy eyes, fracturing all of Eiley’s anger and moulding it into grief. She knew that, in his own mind, he was doing the best he could.
It wasn’t good enough, and she couldn’t keep letting history repeat itself. It was time to move on, properly. This, here, was the closure she’d needed. The confirmation that she was better off alone, even on the bad days, even when everything went wrong.
But it was also confirmation that she wasn’t alone, not in Belbarrow. Standing in this empty house, the one built on lies, while her children looked at her with bewildered worry … This was loneliness.
And, once he’d uttered a brief goodbye to the children, she basked in the fact that she’d never have to feel it again.