Chapter 7
So, Where to Now?
I remember how I felt after that conversation with Tallulah; how the thought that all of this could be a sign made me uncomfortable.
You see, when it comes to signs, historically I’m supremely brilliant at ignoring them.
I’ve always thought of myself as a methodical, logic-based kind of girl – or woman.
And all for what?
Of course, Tallulah was right. Ending a marriage, leaving a home, then moving on, it was a process, one that back then, I was in the thick of.
* * *
After the conversation with Tallulah, over the rest of that day, it was as though her words had taken root and were firing up some hidden, inner part of me. One that had guts. I’m not alone, I kept telling myself. And even if I was, I wasn’t letting what Gareth had done destroy me.
Thinking about him being unfaithful, suddenly, I was incensed, angry like never before, my adrenaline flowing like a river in full flood.
Filled with a need to wrestle back some semblance of control, I texted him back.
Tilly
After tomorrow, do what the fuck you like. I won’t be here.
Pressing send, I stared at the message, realising how rash it was. But there was no taking it back. It was too late.
He replied almost immediately.
Gareth
Where will you be?
Tilly
None of your fucking business.
Gareth
But I might need to contact you.
Tilly
Texts will work perfectly, Gareth. You can start with the address of where you’re staying. My lawyer will be in touch. Goodbye.
Turning my phone off, I glanced at the large wall clock.
Half past six, a time I would usually be cooking for me and Gareth, pouring myself a glass of wine while I waited for him to arrive back from work.
A memory that belonged firmly in my old life.
At least I’d never have to do that again, I told myself.
I felt a brief wave of euphoria. Then burst into tears.
But if there was one thing I did know, it was that I couldn’t give Gareth the satisfaction of seeing me backtrack. I had tonight and tomorrow, then come hell or high water, somehow, I was finding a way to get myself out of there.
It was only as I started opening cupboards and drawers, I realised what a ridiculous task I’d set myself. That I was in no frame of mind to make any decisions – except the problem was, I already had.
When I started to pack, nostalgic Tilly resurfaced in full force with all her reasons why I shouldn’t have to be doing this. It was the photos and old letters, which would take days to sort through. Days that, due to the rashness of my decision, I didn’t have.
As I started sifting through things, a peculiar melancholy filled me.
It was like Lizzie’s cards all over again, as moments from my childhood come flooding back.
The birthdays and Christmases. Even the Sunday lunches Mum used to cook, the cosiness of my childhood bedroom.
The feeling of safety I’d always had, which died when she did.
Clutching them to me, there was no way I could throw them away. In the end, I texted Elena.
Tilly
If I’m stuck, could I leave a couple of boxes in your garage?
The answer pinged back minutes later.
Elena
Of course. So you’re packing?
Tilly
I need to get away, El.
I pressed send.
Elena
Good for you.
She followed it with a heart emoji.
It took all night. But the problem was, by the time I’d finished going through the house, it was far more than a couple of boxes. When I got to Elena’s the following morning, as she stared at my fully laden car, she looked horrified.
‘Tilly. What is all this stuff?’
‘Letters. Photos. A few books. Old cards…’
‘Old cards?’ She looked at me disbelievingly. ‘You’re not telling me you keep old birthday cards?’
‘Only special ones.’ My voice wobbled, because each and every one of them was important to me.
‘And the other boxes?’
I shrugged. ‘There’s some presents Mum gave me. One of two bits of china, that sort of stuff. They have sentimental value, El. Pictures the boys drew me when they were small, things they made. I can’t throw them away. There’s my wedding dress, too.’
‘That does it.’ Elena looked ferocious. ‘I understand about photos and the boys’ things, but the wedding dress is the last straw. What else is in there that links you to that scumbag?’
‘My wedding photos,’ I said miserably. ‘They’re part of the story of my life, El. And so many family and friends are in them.’
‘So is Gareth. We’re getting rid of them.’ She stood there, watching me. ‘Come on. Give me the dress and the wedding photos. Then we’ll find some space where you can leave the rest.’
Feeling like a traitor, I passed her the zipped-up bag that held my wedding dress – and shoes – then rummaged in one of the boxes for the album containing our wedding photos.
‘I’m going to keep one or two.’ My hands were shaking as I turned the pages, pulling out a photo of Lizzie and my parents together, my eyes lingering on one of me and Gareth standing outside the church.
‘Hand them over,’ she said firmly.
Guilt filled me as I closed the album and passed it to her. ‘What will you do with them?’
‘Apart from stabbing Gareth in the eyeballs, you don’t need to know – in the photos, that is,’ she added hastily as I gazed at her in horror. ‘Is that all?’
Nodding, I started to carry what was left into her garage, stricken with guilt as I remembered buying my wedding dress. ‘Mum helped me choose it.’ Looking at Elena, I felt terrible.
‘Tilly, your mum wouldn’t have wanted you to keep it,’ she said gently. ‘Guaranteed. Not after what Gareth’s done. Same with the photos. I promise you.’
With too much still to do, I refused Elena’s offer of staying for a coffee. Back at the house, I decided my clothes were next. I took a deep breath, knowing that this time, I had to be ruthless.
Taking a fortifying glass of wine with me, upstairs I turned the radio on.
As the mellow sound of Classic FM came from the speakers, emotion washed over me.
Sitting on the bed, the idea of leaving was suddenly a step too far.
But then I remembered what I’d said to Gareth.
I wouldn’t, couldn’t, let him see me fail.
I switched the radio channels, stopping at the first that was upbeat.
Then one of my favourite songs started to play, just when I needed it.
I sang along. I want to break free… Wondering if this was another sign, a new sense of resolve came to me.
The only way anything was going to happen was if I made it happen.
Without further ado, I went to my wardrobe, pulled all my old work clothes off their coat hangers and piled them onto the floor; feeling lighter as I carried on, emptying drawers, chucking out anything that made me think of Gareth, keeping only the clothes I really liked.
By the time I’d finished, I looked at what was left, astonished that after all this time, how little there was.
But this wasn’t just about my stuff. There were the twins to think of, too.
First, I went to Robbie’s room, quietly pushing the door open, standing there for a moment feeling a Robbie-sized pang in my heart.
It held his smell, the echo of his childhood, the things he’d collected over the years – which weren’t many. Unlike me, Robbie wasn’t a hoarder.
Alex, however, was. On the shelves in his bedroom were models he’d kept from his childhood, books he hadn’t been able to part with. Photos of him with friends Blu-tacked onto the wall.
I felt another pang, this time Alex-sized, before sadness overwhelmed me.
The boys were the most important people in the world to me.
I had to talk to them again. Let them know I’d be back before the house was sold; that whatever was going on right now, one day, there would be another home, with me; a place for all the things they wanted to keep.
* * *
When I spoke to them, Robbie was pragmatic. ‘I’ll get my stuff sometime, Mum.’
‘I’ve packed away a few things I thought you’d want to keep. But you should probably go through the rest.’
‘It’s only stuff, Mum. And I’ll talk to Alex. Maybe we can come down together in the next couple of weeks.’ He paused. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Yes.’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘Seeing as I don’t have a job right now, it seems the perfect time to go away for a bit. Not sure where yet, but I’ll let you know when I get there.’
‘Wow.’ He paused. ‘Good for you, Mum. Dad’s an idiot. Be careful, won’t you?’
‘I will.’ Tears filled my eyes. ‘You too.’
I gave myself a couple of minutes before I called Alex and told him what was happening.
‘Fuck.’ He was silent. ‘This is really quick.’
‘I know. But your father wants to buy a house with…’ I couldn’t bring myself to add Olivia.
‘Does this mean I need to pick up my stuff?’ He sounded anxious.
‘It might be a good idea to go through it. But of course you don’t have to take it all with you. You will always have a place to stay. We’ll make sure of that. And I’m sure you can ask Dad to store it for you.’ I paused. ‘I’m so sorry you’re having to do this, Al.’
‘It isn’t your fault,’ he said mutinously.
‘There’s no point blaming anyone. It’s happened.
’ I didn’t want to make this any harder for my boys than it already was.
‘Look, I will get another place – eventually. When I get back.’ I hadn’t overthought any of this; it was almost like someone else had decided for me, that going away was what I needed.
‘Where are you going?’ Alex sounded surprised.
‘I’m not sure yet. But once I have another house, you can leave as much stuff as you like there.’
‘It’s going to be weird, Mum. You not being there.’
But it was already weird, before this happened. Life hadn’t been the same since the boys left. ‘I love you Al. And I’ll only be a flight away. I can be back in a day if you need me.’
Steeling myself, I then called my father. ‘Hi, Dad. I thought I should let you know, I’m going away for a bit.’
‘Away?’ He sounded bewildered. ‘How long for?’
‘I’m not sure.’ I hesitated. ‘I’m going to buy a one-way ticket.
I just need a change of scene while I figure out what to do next.
’ I waited for him to speak. In that moment, I’d have given anything for him to sympathise; to tell me to have a big adventure.
That however tough it seemed, life would be OK again.
But he was silent. ‘You’re not going to fix anything by running away.’ There was disapproval in his voice.
‘If there was anything to fix, I’d stay,’ I said sadly. ‘You know I suggested you find a cleaner? I think the time has come, Dad. Like I said, I’m not going to be here.’
I took a car load of stuff to a local charity shop. Then that night, Elena came over.
She looked somewhat doubtfully around the slowly emptying house. ‘There’s still a lot of stuff.’
‘Well, bloody Gareth can pull his finger out. I’m not doing all of it. I’ve packed.’ I nodded towards the rucksack, an old one of Alex’s he never used but couldn’t bring himself to throw out. ‘Most of my clothes have gone to a charity shop.’
Elena looked astonished. ‘I have to say I never thought you’d be able to do this.’
‘The clothes were the easy bit.’ Actually, none of this was easy – but it was done and I wasn’t going to dwell on it.
‘I just have to decide where I’m going.’ I frowned, but while I’d been going through my old letters and photos, wallowing in nostalgia, a song had kept coming back to me.
It was one I remembered my mum playing while she was cooking Sunday lunch, when Lizzie and I were young, as suddenly I made my most rash decision yet.
‘This might sound mad, but actually, I know where I’m going. To San Jose.’
Elena looked at me in bewilderment.
‘You know, El. The song – “Do You Know the Way to San Jose?” By Burt Bacharach and Hal David? Dionne Warwick used to sing it. You must know it.’ I frowned at her. ‘Everyone’s heard of it.’ Then I felt myself freeze, because I remembered it playing at Adam’s, too, that afternoon I was at his.
‘Not me.’ She looked curious. ‘Where is it?’
‘Er…’ Faltering, I googled it.
‘You’re telling me you’re going somewhere because of a song from the past and you don’t even know where it is? Tilly, even given your obsession with nostalgia, this is crazy.’
But I was on a roll. ‘It’s in California.’ I did know that, by the way. ‘And I happen to know British Airways fly there.’
Elena looked amazed. ‘When are you coming back?’
‘I haven’t decided.’ I was silent for a moment.
‘I suppose the whole point is I need options, El. I’m buying a one-way ticket.
’ It only came to me as I spoke the words.
I looked at my friend. ‘I don’t want to be tied down to anything.
You see, for once, believe it or not, I know what I need to do.
’ I smiled at her, because at some point over the last days and hours, I’d worked it out.
If I couldn’t have the old life I loved, the least I could do is try to rediscover me again.
* * *
So much for my best of intentions. After Elena left, I surveyed my rucksack somewhat dismally. I mean, I had no idea how long I was going to be away. There was no way I’d packed enough stuff.
I fetched one of our ancient suitcases – well, not so ancient it didn’t have wheels.
But it was one of the earlier versions, which meant it was rather like driving a tank without the benefit of power steering.
I unpacked the rucksack and repacked the contents in the suitcase, adding more clothes, including a T-shirt of Robbie’s that had a hint of his smell and an old scarf that Alex used to wear.
Then I piled in some toiletries, a scented candle and my favourite pyjamas.
Ridiculous, when you can buy a scented candle almost anywhere.
But there was nothing like a few luxurious touches when you were far from home and it felt like the entire world was set against you.