35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
A ll week I’d felt like I was being watched. It could have been my mind playing tricks, but whether on my early morning swim, on the school run, during my meetings with Seb or when I was working in the shop, it felt as though someone was there, just out of sight. A couple of times I thought I saw a shadow, or glimpsed a boot, but it could have been a trick of the mind.
It was coming to the end of my shift when the bell rang on the shop door. ‘Be with you in a minute,’ I said, reaching up to replenish the cough and cold medicine on the top shelf behind the counter.
Beryl appeared beside me, two cups of coffee in her hands. ‘She doesn’t look like the usual type we get in here,’ she whispered, jerking her head toward the door.
I turned to look at the mystery customer and dropped the boxes of flu relief I’d been holding.
‘Hello, Olivia.’
‘Marion? What are you doing here?’
‘Who’s this then?’ asked Beryl.
‘My m… my soon to be ex mother-in-law.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Olivia, I wondered if we could have a little chat? In private.’
‘Use my flat if you like,’ said Beryl.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, go on up. Help yourself to tea for your guest. Here’s your coffee,’ she said, handing me a cup.
We climbed the stairs to Beryl’s flat. I’d only been up once or twice and wondered what Marion would make of the chintzy furniture and surfaces crammed with photos of Beryl’s grandchildren.
‘Take a seat,’ I said, as Marion followed me into the living room. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘No,’ said Marion, scrunching her nose, as though she thought drinking from one of Beryl’s cups would poison her.
‘What is it you wanted to see me about?’
‘It’s about this foolish notion you have that you’re going to divorce my son.’
‘Marion, it’s not a foolish notion, and besides, Rob agreed to it. We’ve filled out all the forms online, now we’re just waiting for the twenty week cooling-off period to be up.’
Marion huffed and pulled a large brown envelope out of her bag.
‘What’s that?’
Marion drummed her fingers against the envelope. ‘A few things have come to my attention that I’ve found very alarming.’
‘Sorry, I don’t understand?’
Slowly, Marion peeled open the envelope and pulled out what looked like a stack of photographs. ‘The way you’ve been conducting yourself lately, Olivia, is most concerning. We feel it would be in Bertie’s best interest if he came to live with us.’
I spat out my coffee, spurting brown liquid all over Beryl’s soft furnishings. ‘Are you joking? Is this some weird practical joke?’
‘I assure you, Olivia, there is nothing amusing about this.’ Marion held up the pile of A4 photographs, waving them in the air.
‘Can I see?’
She handed me the photographs, my hands shaking as I looked through. It was me, in the pub on the night of Harry’s birthday, tipping a glass of wine down my neck. Me, flailing around on the forest floor, having fallen over. Me, jumping into the lake completely naked. Me kissing Seb. Me pushing Bertie through the school gates (as a joke when he’d been running late). Me hugging a man in the shop (Pat, on the anniversary of his wife’s death). Me, walking down the street carrying two bottles of wine (a thank you present for Stephan and Pat’s babysitting).
‘You… you’ve had me followed?’ I could barely force out the words, so incensed was I by Marion’s actions.
‘And just as well I did. It’s clear from these photos you’ve been living a debauched lifestyle, leaving Bertie in the care of strange men, and behaving like the village whore.’
‘Wh.. What? There are innocent explanations behind all these photographs.’
Marion let out a cold, hard laugh. ‘I’m not sure a court would see it that way.’
‘A court?’
‘Oh, stop gaping like a goldfish, Olivia. All we want is what’s in our grandson’s best interest. You’ve got him living with a group of drop-outs, going to a second-rate school, and being left alone while you flaunt yourself around the village. I’m not sure any judge would look kindly on that style of mothering.’
‘Judge? What are you talking about?’
‘We’ve instructed our solicitor to secure us guardianship of Albert.’
I stood up, throwing the photographs to the floor. ‘His name isn’t Albert. It’s Alberto. How dare you threaten me like this? This is all… all…’ I pointed to the photographs strewn across the carpet. ‘It’s all a pile of horseshit, and you know it. Is this about money? Do you think I’m going to come after your money? Because I’m telling you, I want nothing to do with you or your wealth. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.’
Throughout my rant, Marion had sat calmly on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. ‘Have you quite finished?’ she asked when I flopped back down on the sofa.
‘What does Rob think about all this?’
‘Rob is in agreement with me that Albert moving into the family home would be in his best interest.’
‘But he hasn’t seen Bertie for weeks! Every visit I’ve arranged, he’s pulled out of. You want to go to court? Fine, there’s plenty I could say about your son’s parenting if we do.’
‘Well, of course, you’ve every right to fight us over this. Although, the last time I looked, it seemed lawyers were rather pricey. Do you have access to funds I don’t know about?’
I struggled for words as the full horror of what Marion was saying sank in. There was no way I could fight a custody battle in the courts. I’d been doing my best to save since I began working, but I’d started paying Harry rent and the few hundred pounds in my bank account wouldn’t stretch to even a consultation at a law firm. I stood up, but my legs gave way and I clung to the seat of the chair, fighting the tears that strained to break free.
‘Now now, there’s no need to get upset. There is a way out of this that will make everyone happy.’
I looked up at Marion like a stray dog who’d just been kicked but was still prepared to accept a bone from its attacker.
‘Yes, this could all be sorted out simply.’
‘How?’
‘Well, you could forget all this ridiculous divorce business, for starters.’
‘What?’
‘Go back to Rob. Forget all about this silly farm nonsense. You could be a proper family again. Albert could have a mother and a father. Surely that would be the best option all round?’
‘But you hate me. Why on earth do you want Rob to stay married to me?’
‘Better the devil you know, dear. You should see some of the women he’s been carrying on with since you abandoned him. Pff, I wouldn’t allow them across my threshold. No, better the devil you know.’
Tears broke free and carved their way silently down my cheeks.
‘Anyway, dear, there you have it. The choice is yours. I’ll give you a week to think things through, but I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision for everyone concerned. I’ll be in touch.’
Marion stood up, dusting off her skirt as though she’d been sitting in a squat rather than Beryl’s tidy flat. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
The door clicked shut behind Marion. I pulled myself to my feet, reaching the bathroom just in time to throw up. I was rinsing out my mouth when Beryl appeared in the doorway.
‘I’ve closed the shop. I guessed something was wrong when that old witch marched out of the shop without saying a word. What on earth’s happened?’
I fell to the floor, leaning against the toilet bowl.
‘Come here, maid,’ said Beryl, grabbing a handful of tissue from the roll and wiping my face. ‘Let’s get you over to the sofa and I’ll fetch you something for your nerves.’
I leaned on Beryl as she guided me back to the living room.
‘Oh my word, what are these? That’s me that is!’ Beryl’s finger jabbed one photograph in outrage. ‘Who’s been taking these photos without consent?’
‘My mother-in-law hired someone. I think it must have been that strange man who was in the pub when we went out for Harry’s birthday.’
Beryl flicked through each photo in turn. She paused and stared at the photograph of me and Seb locked in a passionate embrace.
‘Beryl, please don’t tell anyone about this. No one has any idea about me and Seb, and I don’t want it getting back to Bertie before I’ve talked to him.’
Beryl surprised me with a laugh. She sat beside me on the sofa, patting my knee. ‘You think you’ve kept that a secret?’ She laughed again. ‘It’s been blindingly obvious for weeks.’
‘How?’
‘The smile on your face in the mornings, the faraway look in your eyes, not to mention the way you blush every time a certain gentleman comes in for a pint of milk.’
‘So, everyone knows?’
‘No, not everyone. I know I can be a terrible gossip, but you’ll be surprised to hear I can keep a confidence, if the secret belongs to someone I care about. I have a feeling Harry and Maggie have guessed, but we’ve not discussed it, so I can’t be sure. Anyway, what was the purpose of all this spying?’
‘They want to take Bertie from me.’
‘What? But you’re an amazing mother. Surely you can fight them?’
I shook my head, tears dropping from my cheeks onto the cushion I was hugging.
‘I’ll get you a brandy.’
When Beryl handed me the brandy, I downed it in one, despite hating the taste. It burned my throat and stomach and I wondered if I’d throw up again.
‘Beryl, I’m not sure I can come back to work today.’
‘Of course you can’t. I wouldn’t expect you to. You get yourself off home. You’re going to need all your strength for the fight on your hands.’
I thanked Beryl, collected the photographs and let myself out of her flat and onto the street. My brain was a fog of confusion, my legs disobeying my mind. I made it as far as the churchyard before realising I could walk no further. I found a gravestone at the far end and collapsed against it. Everything I’d worked so hard for was about to be taken away, and I was powerless to stop it.