Chapter Remy #10
Ashleigh was clearly going through something, and she wished they had more time.
As was always the case, Remy felt guilty for having dreaded her visit when it was clear to her that despite this very fancy car and the mansion awaiting her in London, there was an underlying sadness to her sister’s words.
She couldn’t imagine not feeling at home in her own house, or not wanting to be wherever Midge was.
‘You know it goes both ways: you can talk to me whenever you need to. Any time. It was nice when you called me, crying, this week.’
‘Oh, cheers!’
‘No – you know what I mean; not nice you were crying, but it was nice for me to know you’d call me when you needed me.’
Ashleigh nodded. ‘As I mentioned, I’ve got a lot going on.’
‘Yep, I got about half of it. You weren’t making much sense, and it was hard to make out your words through all the sniffing and sobbing, but something about a dog called Ben, and Guy pissing you off at work.’
‘Succinctly put.’ Her sister thumbed the diamond eternity that was wedged on her finger under her wedding ring and the diamond engagement ring that was so big, Sophie, as a little one, had asked if it was a lump of ice. ‘So you know who Guy is?’
‘Yes, bit posh, has a wife you don’t like?’ Remy remembered he had been good to chat to on the occasions when their paths had crossed at Evie’s christening, and the housewarming.
‘I wouldn’t say I don’t like her.’
‘So you do like her?’ Remy pushed.
‘I wouldn’t say I like her!’
And again the two spurted their laughter.
‘He’s gone behind my back and is trying to make Ada, his wife—’
‘The one you may or may not like,’ she interrupted.
‘Yes, that one.’ Her sister blinked slowly. ‘He’s trying to make her a partner in the business. And he hasn’t told me about it. The first I heard was when the paperwork turned up.’
‘Oh, so that’s what you didn’t tell me! Can he do that?’ It sounded horrible, especially coming from someone her sister trusted. Again, with a bloom of unease, she thought about having to tell Midge about St. Jude’s.
‘Apparently so. Truth is, I think he wants me out of the business.’
‘But it’s your business!’ Remy pointed out the obvious, knowing how much of her life Ashleigh had poured into Gallow and Fitch and how very proud she was of it.
‘Yep, but he’s the bigger shareholder.’
‘Does that make a difference? Sorry to sound stupid. I don’t know how it all works. I spend my days with a headset on taking calls about broken washing machines and trying to ascertain what has gone wrong with a fridge as a customer on the end of the line imitates its whir.’
Ashleigh stared at her as if unable to imagine this life.
‘I don’t know if it makes a difference, but more upsetting than the legality of it is the thought that he feels that way at all. The fact he’s trying to get Ada involved, it’s like they’re ganging up to kick me out. Otherwise, why not mention it?’
‘I thought she was against working, devoting herself to bread-making and spending Guy’s salary.’ This much she remembered about the woman.
‘She was, she does, I don’t know what’s changed.’ Ashleigh swallowed. ‘Actually, that’s not wholly true. It’s me that’s changed, I think. I’ve made a few mistakes, messed up, said the wrong thing, lost an instruction on a big house when we need the money, that kind of thing.’
‘Christ, we’re all allowed to make a few mistakes, Ash. Some of us can’t even manage to book a table for lunch at the pub.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘But you work so hard, it doesn’t seem fair. What did Guy say when you confronted him?’
‘I haven’t spoken to him about it yet.’
‘You have to!’
Her sister let out a sharp breath. ‘I know! I want to see him, but I don’t want to call him in. They’ve just had their baby.’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Remy remembered her sister saying something about this on the phone.
‘The baby they’ve called Ben, same name as their dog.’
‘Ben’s a funny name for a dog.’
‘That’s not really the point!’ Ashleigh yelled.
‘Suppose not.’
‘I feel a bit like’ – Ashleigh took her time, giving Remy the impression this might be the first time she had said any of this out loud – ‘you know like before you have kids, if things aren’t going great, at the back of your mind is the thought that you can always jump on a plane or a train and go and work in a bar or go to Ibiza, or backpack somewhere hot and dusty, change course, whatever!
It’s a mental escape hatch, that feeling that the whole wide world is out there waiting for you.
But once you have a kid and you’re a mum, you can’t, can you?
You’re stuck! I mean, in a good way, but you’re stuck.
Even if you feel like it’s not a life for you, there’s no going back.
You can divorce a husband, leave a partner, but you can’t stop being a mum, and so it means you plod on, and you put up with things you might not have before your choices were limited.
Because there’s that . . . that expectation. ’
‘I’ve never . . .’ Remy spoke with caution, shocked by her sister’s words, yet careful not to undermine her view or make her regret her candour.
‘Never what?’
‘I’ve never felt the whole wide world was out there waiting for me, but I’ve also never felt stuck, not really. Never wanted to be anywhere other than where my kids are.’
‘Well, lucky you.’ Ashleigh folded her arms across her chest. Remy didn’t take offence at her sharp tone, knowing Ashleigh got this way sometimes, a little snappy, a little mean. She was, after all, tired.
‘Do you want a divorce?’ she asked quietly, tentatively, as if unsure if she should be asking at all.
‘No!’ Her sister shook her head, vehemently. ‘God, no! I love Archie, I love our life, and we work, we have everything we ever wanted.’
‘So . . .’ She paused, beyond fearful of asking if Ashleigh wanted a divorce from Evie. She wouldn’t know what to say or do if her sister admitted this, a thought too terrible to contemplate. ‘When you say you feel stuck . . .’
‘Just forget I said anything.’
‘So, you want me to forget about coming clean to Mum and Dad about the exam, which, I confess, I’m relieved about, forget you might just have told me that you are not happy.
What else do you want me to forget, and what if that’s not an option?
’ She felt advice cueing up on her tongue but knew her sister had to be in the right frame of mind to receive it.
Ashleigh turned to face her, her expression almost pained. ‘If it’s not an option, then add everything I’ve said to our one secret, just make it a bit bigger, and hide it away. You know we’re good at doing that.’
‘For God’s sake, Ash!’
There was a sudden loud tap on the windscreen, and Remy felt her heart jump in her chest.
Oi!
‘What do you two think you’re doing? I’ve got hungry kids and a hungry husband in here!’ Ruthie pointed at the house and shouted through the glass, and there it was, the pointed finger. ‘Of course, we wouldn’t have to be doing any of this if someone had remembered to book the table!’
‘Yep, she’s definitely calmed down.’ Ashleigh sighed.
‘I’d say so.’ Grabbing the big bags of stinky food from the footwell, Remy got out of the car.
Her dad settled back into his chair and placed his hands on his rounded tum.
‘Well, that was lovely. All that chicken, and those little pots of beans, just smashing!’
‘Once again, Ashleigh, I’m so sorry about the whole . . .’ Her mum flapped her hands as if unwilling to voice for the thirtieth time just how sorry she was that Remy had not booked a table.
‘Stop apologising! It’s been great. Not a scrap of chicken left. Everyone’s enjoyed it.’
Remy was thankful for the support. ‘Although how hard can it be to book a table?’ Ashleigh tutted.
Remy raised her middle finger and made out to scratch her cheek. Juvenile, yet still funny.
‘Well, you know what your sister’s like.’ Her mum pursed her lips.
‘I am right here! And honest to God, it’s not like I’ve been getting my nails done or sitting on a yacht! I messed up because I’m busy, so busy!’
‘A poor workman always blames his tools.’ This her mum’s parting shot, called over her shoulder as she left the lounge.
‘What the fluff has that got to do with anything?’ Remy asked, her arms outstretched, palms upturned, her tone as jovial as the sinking feeling in her gut would allow.
Her mother’s nagging and the thought of having to come clean to Midge was enough to throw her completely.
And why, again, was it all her fault? Why was everything?
Why was she still feeling the negative effects of a kind and loving thing she did aged ten?
Why didn’t everyone just sod off? This was, she reminded herself, what happened when Ashleigh arrived like a well-groomed hurricane and upset the balance of everything.
‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ Midge asked from the sofa, where he was sandwiched between the kids.
‘I’d like some wine. Maybe a bottle with a straw in the top.’ Remy answered in the voice of a needy teen, and Midge jumped up.
‘Tea it is.’
She loved the way he looked out for her, knew what she needed.
It was built on understanding and trust, and this was her fear when it came to Ashleigh’s request. What would she do in a world without Midge to love her?
Swallowing the threat of tears, she dug deep to find a neutral expression, not wanting to spoil anyone’s day any more than she already had.
‘Ready for your pressies?’ Her mum came back into the room, arms bulging with gifts wrapped in Star Wars paper, no doubt left over from Bertie’s birthday. Ruthie spoke to her husband with her head tilted to one side, voice high, as if he were a child.
‘I’ve been ready since first thing this morning!’ he chuckled. The sparkle in his eye made a mockery of his reputation as a man who didn’t like a fuss.
‘Come on, Midge, we’re opening pressies!’ Ruthie called to the kitchen, as usual wanting everyone there to witness the event.