Chapter Twenty-Nine
Alison wasn’t sure how many days had passed since she’d left the house.
She could remember picking Will up from nursery and pushing the buggy in the rain and getting home wet and cold.
But after that, the shape of her days had become less clear, all blending into one long round of cleaning and making herself presentable and waiting for Roy to come home.
In the end, she decided it was probably twelve days, which was a nice even number.
Before this stretch of twelve days, she’d been to see a man called Michael in Fowey who had a puppy. He’d shut it in the kitchen to keep Will safe and, in a way, she felt like she was doing something similar. Shutting herself in, to keep everyone safe.
When Roy got like this, the best thing to do was to wait it out and keep life as calm as possible.
Before long, and with little warning, his mood would lift.
Very soon, he’d give Alison her phone back and they would both act like nothing had happened.
Surely, it couldn’t be long, now. He’d rung the sports centre and said she was off sick, but she had a feeling they might sack her this time.
Because she was ‘sick’, Roy took Will to nursery each morning and picked him up at lunchtime too. She imagined what the nursery staff would be saying: ‘Alison still not well? You’re a star, Roy. Wish my husband was as well trained as you!’
He didn’t bring Will straight home, though, and Alison worried about her son being at the garage all afternoon: it was a dangerous place, full of heavy machinery and noise. The best thing she could do was make the house as nice as possible for their return at the end of the day.
Some people made do with a quick hoover and a wave of the duster, but not Alison.
She washed the floors and windows, wiped down the skirting boards and put an extension brush on the vacuum cleaner to get into all the little corners and crevices.
The bathroom was scrubbed and bleached, the taps buffed to a shine and every door handle disinfected.
Will’s toys were tidied away and she’d done the laundry.
Everything was ironed, right down to the socks and tea towels.
Aside from Roy and Will, the only person she saw was the Tesco delivery driver. She didn’t know if he was a mate of Roy’s or if it was her lank-haired appearance, but he kept his distance, just stacked the crates up outside the front door and waited in silence for her to unload each one.
Sariah came by once. Alison heard her knocking and she sat in her spot under the front window until she went away again. It would only drag things out if someone else got involved.
But then, Roy came home in a good mood, and she dared to think it was over.
He slammed the front door and called out, ‘Hello, love’ as if nothing had happened and Alison sprang into action, doing what she always did best: she soothed and coaxed and asked him if he’d had a busy day and she got Will’s tea ready and then cooked Roy steak and chips, his favourite.
‘Great stuff, cheers,’ he said, pushing his plate away.
‘Just heading up for a shower.’ Alison cleared the table, scraped the cold scraps of fat and a smear of ketchup into the food recycling bin and stacked the dishwasher.
Then she wiped Will’s face and sat down to read him a story before bath-time.
She heard Roy’s feet galloping down the stairs and smelled his aftershave a second before he appeared in the doorway.
‘Right, best be off,’ Roy said. Then he looked puzzled. ‘Don’t you want to change him? He’s been in those dungarees all day.’
‘Change?’ Alison didn’t understand.
‘No time now,’ Roy continued in a jolly voice and held out his arms. ‘Come on, little man, time we were off. Free drinks tonight!’
Will obediently slid off her lap so Roy could scoop him up.
‘Where are you going?’ Alison felt a jolt of fear that she’d forgotten something vital.
‘The exhibition, silly.’ Roy let out a laugh. ‘Starts any minute.’
‘Oh.’ She stood, feeling stupid. Had she been out of the loop that long? How could she have forgotten the date? Alison looked down at her shapeless top and jeans and remembered that her hair needed a wash.
‘Give me two minutes,’ she said and turned to run up the stairs. She was halfway up when she felt the rush of cold air as he opened the front door.
‘Don’t think that’s a good idea: you still look peaky. But don’t worry, we’ll tell you all about it when we get back,’ Roy said and the door slammed behind them.
She remained standing on the stairs long after she’d heard the car driving away.
The hours ticked by and she worried about Will and how tired he’d be in the morning.
She made sure everything was spick and span and lit a scented candle that promised Serenity, but it seemed a big ask of a small candle.
By 10 p.m., she knew the exhibition must be long finished and that Roy must have taken Will to the pub.
At 10.30 p.m., she heard the car’s motor and positioned herself casually on the sofa with a magazine, as if she had been relaxing.
Roy carried Will in, asleep in his car seat, and set him on the hallway floor.
She took in her son’s flushed cheeks, a scattering of crisps in his lap and his swollen nappy. ‘I’ll take him up,’ she whispered.
But Roy ignored her and walked into the kitchen. She heard the fridge open and close, then the crack of the ring pull on a can of beer. ‘Fun and games tonight,’ he called out too loudly and she knew the happy drunk stage was long gone and they were heading into belligerent drunk.
She left Will sleeping and followed Roy into the kitchen, blinking in the sudden glare of the lights.
‘Oh yes, fun and games.’ Roy set his can down and wiped his mouth. ‘Had to give the Warburn boy a bit of a smack,’ he said. ‘Remind him what’s what.’
Roy did a poor imitation of a whiney posh voice: ‘Erm, excuse me old chap, but where is Alison? She should be here.’
A fist-thud on the table made Alison jump.
‘Nobody tells me what to do.’
‘He’s just a kid,’ Alison tried to soothe. ‘He’s nothing.’
But then Roy started talking about her dad and she froze. He wouldn’t hurt him, would he? Not her dad.
‘Yeah, your poor old dad,’ she heard. ‘Quite upset.’
‘What did you do?’ she demanded, forgetting to use her soft voice.
‘Me? I didn’t do anything. Was you and your stupid exhibition that did it. Bent your dad right out of shape.’ Roy let out his stupid drunk giggle, the one that meant he probably wouldn’t remember anything the next morning.
‘Roy, please. What happened?’
‘No idea, love. Something got him worked up, though – stormed out, effing and blinding.’
She didn’t believe him. He must have said something, because no one else would want to upset her dad, the kindest man she knew.
Her jaw tight with unspoken words, Alison began making up a bottle for Will.
She carried it and the car seat upstairs and then, as gently as she could, she changed Will’s nappy and got him ready for bed.
As she gave Will his milk he looked up at her with wide eyes.
Usually, this was her favourite part of the day, a quiet moment of trust and love.
But looking down, all she saw in her son’s eyes was confusion and she knew this couldn’t go on.