Chapter 6 #3
‘I’m not fricking drunk.’ She looked at me.
‘You really don’t see it, do you?’ When I didn’t respond, she went on.
‘Obviously you don’t. You’ve completely lost sight of gorgeous, funny Tilly who makes everyone laugh, who’s the person everyone goes to because they love you so much.
And because they feel safe with you. And because as well as funny, you have this gentle, empathic wisdom. ’
It was my turn to interrupt. ‘If I’m so wise, then answer me this. Why am I making such a mess of this?’
‘You haven’t,’ Elena said gently. ‘This was Gareth’s doing. You’re feeling your way through. But one day, my friend, you’re going to be fine.’
* * *
One bottle turned into two and I lost track of what happened after that. Elena insisted I spent the night in her spare room and I crawled home the next morning with the mother of all hangovers.
Pondering what she’d said, hangover aside, I actually wasn’t feeling too bad – or maybe the booze was still circulating. But when I got home and went inside, I felt my mood plummet.
I was stupid to imagine I could put a positive spin on my marriage breaking up.
And it was Sod’s Law, wasn’t it, that when things were shitty, they generally seemed to get worse?
Hunched on the sofa in my saggiest jogging bottoms, I was watching daytime TV when I heard the doorbell ring.
Unable to face speaking to anyone, I ignored it.
Then the next thing I heard was a key in the lock.
Imagining Gareth coming back, I quickly smoothed my hair, trying to muster an air of dignified sadness; getting the shock of my life when I heard footsteps come closer before the door opened and a stranger walked in.
A wave of fear hit me. Then I noticed he was smartly dressed in a suit and clutching a clipboard. Leaping up, I wrapped my arms around myself. ‘What the fuck are you doing in my house?’
To be fair, he did look taken aback. ‘Your house? I’ve been asked to value the property. The owner gave me a key. He said nothing about there being anyone here.’
‘He’s said nothing to me about this.’ I stared at him, my fear replaced by anger. ‘He has absolutely no bloody right. It’s my bloody house, too.’ Suddenly I was seething with rage, furious with Gareth. ‘Get out.’
Holding up his hands defensively, the agent turned around and hurried back towards the door.
I followed, watching as he let himself out.
Locking the door and bolting it, I was outraged that Gareth could even think about doing this – let alone without talking to me – and knowing I was still living here.
I was still fuming five minutes later when my phone pinged with a text – from Gareth.
Gareth
Ignoring my messages and calls isn’t helpful, Tilly. I thought you’d be back at work. We need to put the house on the market. Let me know when is convenient and I’ll make appointments.
He was wrong. I hadn’t ignored his messages, I simply hadn’t been able to bring myself to read them yet. And it was barely a week since he moved out. No time for me to even begin to come to terms with the carnage he’d created.
Tilly
You didn’t think, but you never do, do you? That’s the whole problem. How dare you do this without mentioning it to me? In any case, there’s a process. I need to speak to a lawyer.
Angry, I pressed send.
He came back a few minutes later.
Gareth
I didn’t mean to upset you. And you’re right. I should have mentioned it. But I honestly thought you wouldn’t be there.
As if that made it OK.
Tilly
It’s irrelevant whether I’m here or not. In case you’ve forgotten, the house belongs to both of us.
It was snarky; unnecessarily so. But I didn’t care.
And he had no right to go behind my back.
Still seething, an urge to get out of the house filled me.
After pulling on a jacket and boots, I headed for the only place I could think of, my phone in my pocket pinging with more messages I ignored; as I walked, trying to clear my head. But it was impossible.
The woods were misty that morning, the silver birches ethereal and ghostly, the air damp and still.
As I picked my way around the muddiest parts of the path, there was another ping from my phone, I ignored.
Only when I reached the platform at Selham railway station, did I take my phone out of my pocket, then bring up Gareth’s texts.
Gareth
Tilly, I’m sorry, but we do need to talk about the house. I need to buy somewhere – quickly.
The subtext didn’t pass me by; that quickly meant before Olivia’s baby arrived. I made a note to self to find out when that was – he hadn’t told me. I moved on to his next message.
Gareth
I hope it doesn’t inconvenience you too much. Let me know when you’ve found somewhere to move to.
I stared at it. How dare he? As far as inconvenience went, a forced move was right up there. And houses didn’t sell overnight. Presumably, he’d rather it sat empty than I carried on living in it. But this wasn’t solely up to him. I read the next message.
Gareth
I don’t want to make this any harder than it already is. I was thinking maybe you could stay at your dad’s for a while. Ease the transition, as it were. And at least you wouldn’t be alone.
My blood boiled. Stay at Dad’s? Where the fuck had that come from? Had he observed my relationship with my father in any detail whatsoever, or was he blind?
Gareth
Even if you don’t, we need to get it valued. Then after, we can talk about when to put it on the market.
I stared across the platform at the brambles, at the sodden piles of fallen leaves, my brain seeming to freeze.
Suddenly this place I loved, that felt removed from my everyday life, no longer held the same allure for me.
But there wasn’t anywhere I wanted to be, while the thought of doing anything even remotely related to selling the house felt as daunting as moving a mountain.
A burst of birdsong made me turn my head and I took in the blackbird watching me from a nearby tree.
‘It’s all right for you,’ I told it. ‘With your simple life and your little feathered nest, while mine happens to be empty…’ A tear rolled down my face.
The bird chirruped more loudly at me. Then, squawking, flew away, leaving me sitting there, wishing I could do the same. And for the first time I was thinking I actually would fly far away from here. But the problem was, I had no wings.
* * *
When I got home, I called Elena. ‘Gareth sent an estate agent around – to value the house. Without telling me. Can you believe it? I’m fuming, El. How dare he?’
‘How dare he indeed. Bastard.’ Elena sounded as furious as I felt.
‘He says we need to sell the house quickly – presumably before Olivia has the baby,’ I said bitterly.
‘Then let him.’ Elena paused. ‘You know what? At least you won’t have to handle that side of things.’
But the reality of selling was starting to hit. ‘What about all our stuff?’
‘You start sorting it. You don’t have to panic. Take one drawer at a time – just like you’re taking one day at a time. The house won’t sell overnight. You have time, Tills.’
But after I ended the call, it didn’t feel like that. My emotional roller coaster was taking a dive – into the abyss. And for the life of me, I couldn’t see a way out of it.
* * *
The following day, I felt no better. In my ancient jogging bottoms and shapeless jumper, my hair was all over the place and for the second day running, I hadn’t showered.
Suddenly in need of a friendly voice, I called Elena.
But it went straight to voicemail. A few seconds after hanging up, my phone pinged with a text.
Elena
Hey Tills. Sorry, at a parents’ thing at school. I’ll call you later when I’m home.
Despair welled up inside me. That morning, my inner Bridget Jones was nowhere to be seen. I picked up my phone again and this time I called Tallulah.
‘Tilly! How’s it going?’
‘Not great,’ I said. ‘Do you have a moment?’
‘Of course. So what’s up?’
‘You can probably guess,’ I said awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry to call you like this.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I was really hoping you could give me a common sense talking-to…’ I tried to inject some humour into my voice.
‘Oh Tilly.’ Tallulah was silent for a moment. ‘What’s happened?’
I tell her about Gareth sending someone to value the house.
‘Shocking of him,’ she agreed. ‘Especially without talking to you first.’ She paused. ‘Have you actually spoken – since this happened?’
‘No. I don’t want to,’ I said childishly. ‘I don’t want to see him, either.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier? Even if only to avoid cock-ups like estate agents turning up when you’re not expecting them?’
I was silent. The thought of speaking to Gareth had no appeal whatsoever.
‘You could think of it as empowering,’ Tallulah suggested. ‘Taking the initiative, rather than doing nothing. And in a sense, you’d be facing your demons, or however you like to think of it.’
‘I’m really not sure I’m ready.’
She shrugs. ‘Fair enough. That’s up to you.’ She’s silent for a moment. ‘I’ve been thinking since I saw you in the car park – about everything that’s going on in your life. Have you considered that maybe what’s happening could be a sign?’
‘Sign?’ I felt myself frown. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Well, you know those times when everything seems to go your way? Like there’s a flow to life?’
I tried to remember a time when life felt like that. ‘I think so.’ Though truth be known, it was a long time ago.
She went on. ‘Well, right now, it’s like the opposite is happening. In simple terms, you’re being opposed, Tilly. It’s like everywhere you look, doors are closing around you.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Quite a number of them, I’d say.’
‘More like slamming in my face,’ I said shortly. ‘And thank you, but I really don’t need reminding of this.’
‘Don’t take this personally,’ she said. ‘But yes. It probably does feel like they’re slamming, rather than closing.
The thing is…’ She paused. ‘Tilly, after we spoke, I got to thinking that maybe you are in the wrong place – the signs are all around you, but you’re not seeing them, so they’re getting bigger.
I can understand why you feel that everything’s against you. ’
I was sure someone had said that to me before – I couldn’t remember who.
But maybe she had a point, I admitted reluctantly to myself.
My job was one thing – though I’d tried to love it, the truth was I felt like a fish out of water.
But if she was right, it meant my broken marriage was a sign that I’d wasted the last twenty-two years of my life.
‘There probably is something in what you’re saying.
But the problem is, this is my life we’re talking about,’ I said.
‘It has been, for over twenty years. I don’t want to feel like I’ve wasted it. ’
‘Who mentioned wasting anything? We’re talking about growing. And change,’ she said ever-so-slightly sarcastically.
‘Yes, well, I’ve always believed it’s about commitment,’ I flashed back. ‘And perseverance. My life might not be anything fancy, but at least it’s mine. And I love it.’
‘I’m so sorry. You’re quite right.’ Tallulah sounded trite. ‘But we’re back where we started, aren’t we? Because your life is going to change. It has to.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not sure this is helping.’ I blinked away my tears. ‘I should go. I have to start sorting through the house.’
‘Oh Tilly. Please don’t go – not like this. This is really tough for you – I’m under no illusions. But I’m on your side, you do know that, don’t you?’
As her words sank in, I reached my lowest point yet, my world falling apart, all my flaws and mistakes brightly illuminated by a woman who epitomised the sass and irreverence I used to have – in shedloads, as opposed to the woman I’d become.
A dowdy one who was losing everything important in her life.
‘Tilly?’ she said in a gentle voice. ‘Are you still there?’
‘Yes,’ I muttered; the word stuck in my throat.
‘Look. It’s a process. It isn’t easy. But you have to trust it.’ She was quiet for a moment. ‘And believe me when I tell you you’re going to find your strength.’ She paused again. ‘You’ve got this.’