The Full Nest
Prologue
PROLOGUE
I can’t remember the last time I was out past sunrise. And now my heart is beating hard as I creep guiltily into our house.
‘Carly! Where have you been?’ My husband appears before me, looking aghast.
I tell him where I’ve spent the night.
‘For God’s sake,’ he thunders. ‘Have you gone completely mad?’
Quite possibly, yes. I wince at the volume of his voice. Does he always talk so loud? ‘I didn’t plan it,’ I start. ‘It just sort of happened, Frank. Can we talk later? I have to get ready for work …’ I hurry upstairs, but he catches up with me on the landing.
‘Carly, what’s going on with you?’
‘I need a shower,’ I announce, relieved to be able to close and bolt the bathroom door. But when I emerge, swathed in a towel, Frank is waiting. He looks distraught now, and I’m hit by a rush of remorse.
‘Frank, I’m really sorry,’ I say. ‘With everything that’s been happening here, it just got too much. I had to get away, only for a little while—’
‘Is our home really so terrible to you?’
‘No! Of course it’s not …’ Actually, yes. Yes, it is!
In our bedroom, I dress quickly and head downstairs with Frank still in pursuit. We can’t even talk because my dad is installed at the kitchen table, and Eddie – our son – is moaning about something or other; I don’t even know what it is. There’s an altercation between him and his dad, and it strikes me that we’re really not designed to all live together – isn’t that why adult children leave home? Then something is happening and I can’t quite believe it’s real. Frank is hastily packing a bag.
I stare at him. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’ve had enough. I can’t stand it here anymore.’
Minutes later he’s out the front door, with the bag slung over his shoulder.
‘Frank!’ I shout. ‘Please—’ I break off. As he storms off down the street, away from us all, a single thought rings loud and clear in my head.
Frank and I have fantasised about being empty-nesters. It’ll be our time, we kept telling ourselves. And we couldn’t wait.
How has it turned out like this?