Chapter 12
A man is a poor creature compared to a woman.
HONORé DE BALZAC
Don’t get me wrong. I’m actually not having a dig at Gareth, this time.
And I’m all too aware that I’m far from perfect, too.
But when the twins made their entrance into the world, at least I was devoted, putting my babies first, something Gareth would forever have been incapable of.
From those first moments of motherhood, those boys became my everything; compensated for what was lacking between me and Gareth.
And once they were here, I couldn’t think about anything else.
* * *
‘Look at their tiny hands.’ Lizzie’s voice was filled with wonder. ‘And their tiny noses. And teeny little toes.’
‘I know.’ I couldn’t keep the pride out of my voice.
‘Don’t look much like Gareth, do they? Thank God,’ Lizzie added with feeling. ‘Oh, Tilly. They are the most adorable little creatures I’ve ever seen.’
Those first months of motherhood were both lacking in sleep and full of wonder.
They were also taken up with washing. They were exhausting and they pushed our marriage to new limits, yet they were probably also the reason Gareth and I stayed together.
Having two tiny humans entirely dependent on us meant there was little time to think about ourselves.
There were the most heart-warming moments – when a tiny Robbie gazed at Gareth and gave him a gummy smile that his father didn’t appreciate; when Alex first uttered the word, mum-mum.
‘He’s teething,’ Gareth said dismissively, as Alex thrust one of his tiny fists into his mouth.
‘That was definitely mum,’ I said indignantly.
The presence of the twins in our lives had papered over the rift between us. There was no way of knowing how long it would last – whether the paper would thicken over time; if we would endure. Or whether the next row would gouge another split and be the end of us.
In other words, we were fragile. It broke my heart.
I mean, we had these adorable babies. It didn’t get better than that, did it?
But after Gareth’s self-confessed ambivalence towards parenthood, I felt a claim over the twins, as though my feelings about motherhood had decreed me a right that he had yet to earn.
I was grateful he supported us, that he slept through the nights meaning I had the dark hours with my babies all to myself.
Why did I stay? I asked myself many times while the boys were growing up, only to push the question from my mind.
But this wasn’t just about me; having children complicated everything a thousandfold.
Meanwhile, Adam was no more than a distant memory, ever since I’d discovered he’d moved away.
It’s true about the lies we tells ourselves, our tangled webs that catch us out.
I never told anyone at the time, but when I was twelve weeks pregnant, the morning of my scan, I went back to Adam’s house.
I know how bad it sounds. I mean, what kind of pregnant woman does such a thing?
My only defence being, and it wasn’t strong, that I wasn’t a happy one.
Apart from the time I glimpsed the back of his head, I hadn’t seen Adam since the days before my wedding. That day, I figured it was in the lap of the gods as to whether he would be at home or not. As fate would have it, when I knocked on the door, it was opened by a stranger.
‘Hi.’ I tried not to notice my heart plummeting. ‘Is Adam home?’
The guy frowned. ‘Adam? I think you’ve got the wrong place.’
He went to shut the door but I pushed a hand against it. ‘But he lived here – about three months ago.’ I was about to go on, to tell him about the windowsill of miniature cactus plants, about Adam’s beautiful eyes. But I stopped myself.
The guy gave me a strange look. ‘You mean that journalist guy? He left a couple of months back. I can’t tell you where he went, I’m afraid. He didn’t leave a forwarding address.’ He paused, as if he was going to say something else, then thought better of it. ‘Would you excuse me?’
I stood there as he closed the door, a feeling of powerlessness descending over me. Quite what I’d been hoping for by going there, I couldn’t put into words. All I did know, with certainty, was I hadn’t found it.
On the way back to the flat, I stopped in the park and sat on a bench under a tree.
Around me, the dark greens of late summer had turned to shades of gold, a scattering of leaves on the grass.
I felt the coolness of a breeze that heralded the change of the season, as in the strangest way, it was as though I could sense it.
Adam had gone. I didn’t know when or where.
And I knew I shouldn’t have cared. But all I could feel was this well of emptiness.
It’s one of the saddest things in life to never have tried; to not know how things might have turned out, had the timing been different, had they been given a chance.
I told myself that Adam and I were simply not meant to be, and this time I had to believe it.
I allowed myself to wallow in the sadness I felt, completely forgetting that had I been open to a future with him, Adam most likely would have been there for me.
But as I made it very clear at the time, I hadn’t been.
Anyway, it was just as well. I was pregnant, wasn’t I? My future lay with Gareth, I reminded myself as I walked away, back to the flat. We were going to be a family.
* * *
Immersed in those early years of motherhood, I never imagined them ending. That my chubby, tousled-haired little warriors would go to school, make friends, join football teams. Grow into teenagers, battle an adolescent self-consciousness neither of them had had before. Learn to drive; go to uni.
But we don’t, do we? I mean, motherhood is a whirlwind there’s no stepping out of. And why would I have? Being a mother was the best thing that ever happened to me.
In all this, it’s fair to say that Gareth’s part was, well, just that.
A part. A smallish one, which extended to kicking a ball around the garden when he was in the mood.
He wasn’t a bad father. He just wasn’t a particularly engaged one, his strengths peaking as the boys got older, amounting to helping Robbie put up shelves in his bedroom or showing Alex how to fix a puncture.
In short, Gareth’s emotional disconnect extended to his children. Never was it more apparent than during one of the few parent–teacher evenings at school he came with me to.
‘Why is Alex studying art?’ He seemed mystified.
‘Alex is creative,’ I said as though explaining to a stupid person. ‘He loves it and he’s really good at it.’
‘Waste of time,’ Gareth said dismissively. ‘I’m going to have a word with him about it.’
‘Please don’t.’ I stared at my husband. ‘It’s important to him. In any case, you have no idea what Alex is interested in.’
‘Rubbish. He’s my son. Of course I do.’ He frowned. ‘You can’t stop me, Tilly. I’m his father, and this is important.’
‘I know it is,’ I said wearily. ‘But Alex is fifteen. It’s his life.
’ I wanted to explain to him that he couldn’t maintain the distance he kept and expect the boys to suddenly take notice of him.
But I gave up. The more I battled Gareth, the harder he fought back – and in this case, I knew it would be Alex who got the brunt of that.
There were other, similar episodes with the boys when Gareth was compelled to express his opinions. Opinions that were uninformed, because most of the time, he took no interest in them.
* * *
It was in the midst of the boys’ teenage years that I reached another crisis point. Not because anything major had happened. It hadn’t. It was more the weight of the years passing, the loneliness I felt in my marriage.
I remember talking to Elena about it, trying to describe the emptiness I was feeling. My dilemma, that the boys needed both their parents. It wasn’t as though anything had changed. It was more like my soul was deeply weary. And that was when the Universe stepped in.
I’d gone into town to pick up something for one of the boys when totally unexpectedly and out of the blue, I bumped into Adam – coincidentally not far from the bar where I had my hen night.
‘Oh.’ My heart missed a beat. As I stared into his eyes, I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t believe it was him. ‘Hi.’
‘Tilly.’ He gazed at me. ‘What a surprise.’ His face crinkled as he smiled. ‘You look great. I mean, it’s great to see you. How are you?’
‘It’s great to see you too.’ I felt warm, deep inside. Alive, too, in a way I wasn’t used to. ‘I’m good. How are you?’
‘Good.’ Still smiling, he was as gorgeous as ever. ‘How’s Gareth?’
I was taken aback; astonished that after all these years, he’d remembered Gareth’s name. ‘He’s OK.’ My warmth dimmed, but then it was back. ‘We have two sons. Twins. They’re fifteen – swotting for exams and growing up.’
‘So he got over it,’ Adam said quietly. ‘The children thing.’
I nodded. ‘Kind of.’ It was easier than saying, not really; that we almost broke up over it. Instead, I changed the subject. ‘How about you? What brings you back here?’
‘I had to check up on one or two things.’ He didn’t elaborate. ‘I’m glad you’re OK,’ he said. ‘I’ve often wondered how things worked out for you.’
My heart skipped another beat. There was so much I wanted to say to him. That I went to see him, but he’d moved away. That barely a week passed when I hadn’t thought about him. But then he looked past me as a woman joined him. ‘Tilly, this is Louise. My wife.’
I was stunned for a moment, which was ridiculous when I thought about it after. It wasn’t like I’d imagined Adam would stay single. It was just that face to face with the reality of his real-life actual wife felt very odd to say the least.
She held out a hand. ‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’ Louise was, well, actually, a bit like me. A similar height, similar build, similar clothes even. Hair a similar shade of brown. But what she had that I didn’t have was this sense of peace that seemed to radiate from her. She also had Adam.
‘It’s nice to meet you too.’ Shaking her hand, I held her gaze for a moment; wondered if Adam had ever mentioned me, before deciding it would be better if he hadn’t. ‘Well, I should be getting on. You know, things to do before I pick the boys up, and all that.’ I beamed at both of them.
* * *
It should have been the closure I needed, even after all these years. Should have made me appreciate what I had. My boys, my lovely home, my friends. In many ways, I knew I was lucky.
But seeing Adam had brought back memories. Memories that until now, I’d buried. And the thing was, pulled out into sunlight, they were beautiful.