Chapter 19
Maya hammered on the front door for the third time when Conrad didn’t answer. She knew he’d want her to use her key – ‘treat this place as your own’ he’d say for the umpteenth time – but today, she couldn’t because she was carrying a rather heavy container with a casserole as well as a bag of fresh fruit and his medicines, which she’d picked up for him yet again. He was giving her the run around with so many trips to the pharmacy but the fact that she’d bumped into Noah again when she was there had made it easier to bear. It was tempting to tell Conrad she’d seen Noah just like the last time because watching him mentally kick himself for sending her in the first place would be fun.
When Conrad finally opened the door, she warned, ‘Do not tell me I should’ve used my key, kind of got my hands full.’ And the July temperatures meant she was also hot and bothered, not a good combination when she needed to find the patience for this man.
‘Wasn’t going to say a word.’ He closed the door behind her and followed her into the kitchen. ‘Something smells good.’
‘Did you get a visit from the doctor?’ She couldn’t help snapping; she was hot and pissed off at him for the latest game he’d introduced with their son.
‘No need to take that tone, Maya.’
Oh, there was every need. Coming here interfered with any down time she might have in her own busy life. She was well and truly over it, especially given what he was up to with regards to Isaac. And now she had an alternative option, a beer on a porch overlooking the river with Noah, an escape from all of this, spending time with her ex-husband was even less appealing. To others, including Bess, she looked crazy running after her Conrad like this, but she wondered how many of them would do the same thing in her shoes. She suspected most of them would do anything to keep the piece of their life they were most ashamed of buried deep.
Isaac had called her on her way here. She’d answered on handsfree in the car with the usual excitement she felt when her son phoned but when he told her what Conrad had been up to, she passed from a state of excitement to one of frustration.
Conrad had called Isaac earlier today, probably when she was running around after him, and told Isaac that he wanted Christmas with his son this year. Not just Christmas but New Year as well. And he wanted to do it in Ireland at some fancy hotel. Sometimes she wished divorce came with a forcefield around her and Isaac that Conrad had no means of penetrating, but unfortunately real life wasn’t like that.
‘He can’t make me go, can he?’ Isaac had moaned on the phone, tired after working all day in his friend’s parents’ café. ‘I don’t want to travel to Ireland on my Christmas break, Mum.’
‘Nobody can make you do anything, Isaac.’ She flicked her indicator off angrily when it failed to do the job itself after she turned at a roundabout.
‘It’ll make things hard for you if I say no.’
And then it dawned. ‘So I take it from that you mean he’s not including me in this invite for the festive season.’
Isaac swore, which he rarely did when she was within earshot. ‘He said you’d be welcome to come along.’
‘I’ll be working over Christmas so I won’t be able to go away anywhere; I’ll need to be in Whistlestop River. He knows that. I’ve already told him.’ But she hadn’t realised why he’d been so interested when he asked her a couple of weeks ago. She did now.
‘I want to be home, Mum.’
‘I know you do.’ Her heart went out to him. He’d want to come back to Whistlestop River, catch up with friends, have a proper break. ‘Do you want me to talk to him?’
With a sigh, Isaac said he could fight his own battles. He could but Conrad liked to fight dirty and that was what she was worried about.
‘You never know,’ she said, upbeat, ‘it might be fun in Ireland. Knowing your dad, it will be a nice hotel, maybe with a golf course.’ She injected a bit of enthusiasm she hardly felt.
‘I don’t like golf. I like tennis. And it’ll be winter, Mum.’
She wished she could take away all of his angst. ‘Isaac, I really wish?—’
‘Do not say you wish we could get on. We don’t hate each other, Mum, but Dad only thinks of himself and I can’t see that changing any time soon.’
And neither could she. It hurt all the more because of her emotional distance from her own father, but she’d never thought her dad only considered himself. He thought deeply about others, he put them first, which made it harder to grasp why he seemed so against Maya’s life choices. Whatever was going on between her and her dad seemed to run a lot deeper than Isaac’s problems with Conrad. Conrad wasn’t a complex character; he was shifty and prone to moods but he wasn’t hard to work out. Isaac had got it pretty much spot on when he claimed Conrad thought only about himself. Even what he’d done for Maya all those years ago when she’d left her family home at such a tender age, what she’d seen as an action to rescue her and help her had really, all along, been for his own benefit. It had taken years, however, for her to see it that way.
Maya suspected there wouldn’t be anything she could do to convince Conrad not to enforce this trip. And she knew if Isaac turned him down, he’d put pressure on Maya instead and she’d have no choice but to do her very best to persuade their son to change his mind. If she didn’t then Conrad would remind her gently of how difficult he could make her life if things didn’t go his way.
In Conrad’s kitchen now she found three old plastic containers from the back of a cupboard and spooned the casserole into separate portions. ‘This will keep you going a few days. I’ll pop them all into the freezer.’
She felt him watching her as she divided up the casserole that he liked, but didn’t love. It was somewhat childish to have made it for him knowing that, but it was something Maya could do to keep her sanity and feel that in some situations maybe she got a turn to have the upper hand.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s bugging you?’ he asked. ‘There’s obviously a reason for the casserole and the attitude. I’m sorry I’m such a burden.’
‘Stop being dramatic. I said I’d cook for you for a while seeing as you can’t manage it. And I made the casserole for myself as well; I’ve left half of it at home.’ She hadn’t, but he’d never know that.
‘There’s something going on,’ he huffed. ‘We were married long enough that?—’
‘You know exactly what’s going on.’ She didn’t need to hear about their marriage, whatever spin he was going to put on things with examples of how they knew each other.
‘I don’t or I wouldn’t ask, would I?’
‘Microwave the casserole portions for about three or four minutes, maybe five from frozen,’ she instructed. ‘Stir after to avoid the hotspots or you’ll burn your mouth.’ With any luck.
She put the last of the containers into the freezer. He’d hate using the microwave and it gave her another little flicker of gratification. He’d always sneered at reheated leftovers unless they were done in the oven, said they didn’t taste right.
‘Oh, you’d love it if I burnt myself, wouldn’t you?’
She rounded on him. ‘You know what I would love? If you could actually have an adult relationship with your own son!’
‘Ah, so that’s what this mood is about.’ He seemed smug he’d caused it.
‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘With me?’ He jabbed his healthy thumb towards his chest. ‘I want to spend time with him.’
‘On your terms. In Ireland. At Christmas.’
‘What’s so wrong with Ireland, for fuck’s sake?’ He shoved back a chair from the kitchen table but then fell against the table to steady himself.
She helped him into the chair.
‘Head rush,’ he claimed. ‘Catches me out sometimes.’
‘Are you still getting the headaches?’ It didn’t matter how much she didn’t like the man; she didn’t wish him harm and headaches following the type of accident he’d had might be a real cause for concern.
‘I’ve got the hospital appointment coming up, remember.’
‘I remember.’ She couldn’t forget, she had it marked on her wall calendar because it would be her who was taking him.
Sometimes she wondered if she’d ever get the distance she needed to start her own life properly without his hold over her. Her mistake had been to trust him in the first place, to let herself be taken in by him, but at the time, she hadn’t had much choice and she’d been grappling for help from someone, anyone. At first, he was kind to her; she felt special and seen. But over the years, that had changed and cracks soon began to show. They’d been subtle at first, little digs her way, especially his doubt about her career path, his certainty that she’d stay home with her child and forget about the silly idea of flying helicopters for a living.
‘You women might think you’re equals,’ he’d said to her when she started her pilot training. She’d been saving it to be a surprise, worked until she had enough money to start, thought it would show she wasn’t assuming he’d pay for her now they were married. ‘But you’re not. The fact is there are some jobs men are better at doing. Take my job, for example. Some of the female officers can’t handle the more boisterous prisoners, the rougher arrests; that puts them in danger and it’s a risky game.’
Part of Maya had tried to see it as Conrad being respectful of women and not wanting them to come to any harm, but she knew she was scrabbling for hope that her husband hadn’t just hinted that female officers were inferior, hinted that her wanting to become a pilot was ridiculous, a word he’d actually used to describe her career choice as time wore on. Her job as a pilot came under the same title of jobs unsuitable for women.
After diminishing her career aspirations, then had come his affairs, his carelessness exposing him each time. Their marriage had been like a domino rally and once that first domino fell, the rest just kept getting knocked over until they were left with a mess she had to walk away from.
She took a deep breath and sat next to him at the table. He looked fine now he was seated. ‘Think about it, Conrad, about Ireland, I mean. A trip like that should bring two people together, not drive a bigger wedge.’
‘Is Isaac really so hellbent he doesn’t want to do it that he asked his mummy to intervene?’
The comment rankled but she bit the corner of her mouth to stop herself rising to the bait.
‘I’ve booked accommodation in a castle,’ Conrad went on. ‘And there’s a golf course. Talk about being bloody ungrateful.’
‘It’s not that he’s ungrateful; it’s because of the way things are between you both.’ And for the last time, Isaac doesn’t like golf! She’d told Conrad enough times but as usual he hadn’t absorbed the fact, just kept thinking about himself.
‘Yeah, well, the way I see it, you’ll have him with you this summer, when he finally gets his backside home, so why can’t I have him over the winter?’
She ignored the dig about Isaac working up in Scotland, annoyed he didn’t see their son for the amazing, independent young man that he was. ‘He’s not a toy you shunt back and forth. Do you actually want him in your life? Because the way you’re going, you’re going to lose him.’
He sucked in breath between his teeth. ‘Now, now, Maya, that sounds a bit like a threat to me.’
‘It’s not a threat.’ But she had to get through to him. ‘You’re pushing him away. And a blood tie doesn’t mean a guarantee he’ll always be around, not when the emotions aren’t there.’
His good arm shot out and grabbed hold of hers. ‘Do not come between me and my boy.’
She yanked her arm away. ‘I’m doing everything I can to make sure you have a relationship with him!’
‘You make it sound as if it wasn’t for you, we’d have no bond at all,’ he harrumphed but he soon turned serious. ‘Oh, that is what you mean. Well, can’t change your opinion, I’ve learnt that along the way. He’s my son and I say we’re doing Christmas and New Year in Ireland. Either you like it and come with us, or you stay here. Up to you.’
‘Have you ever thought that maybe he will have had a whole term at university and doesn’t want to be traipsing miles even if it is to a fancy castle?’
She picked up her things.
‘What you mean is he wants to come home to his mummy so she can coddle him.’ His words dripped with disdain. ‘I get it, you’re number one. Usually. But Maya, this year it’s me; I’m going to be number one.’
She wasn’t going to say another word. She’d tried.
‘You’d better make him see sense or you know what’ll happen!’ he yelled as she walked out of the kitchen, out of the front door and left him behind.
Didn’t she deserve the chance to be happy?
She knew she did. But she had no idea how to achieve that with Conrad always waiting in the wings.