Chapter 29
‘I’M SORRY. IT looks like a bomb has gone off in here.’ Nathalie smiled apologetically as she ushered Helena inside.
It was a Wednesday evening in early January, and as promised Nathalie had invited Helena around for dinner.
Helena had been worried about leaving Margery alone, but she had insisted she would be perfectly alright.
She had reminded Helena that she had years of experience eating by herself.
The house seemed very empty without Johnny, who had finally moved out between Christmas and New Year.
They had seen him lots, they’d even spent New Year’s Eve together, but it felt different without him there.
Helena found herself missing him much more than she had expected to, no matter how nice it was to have a double bed all to herself.
‘This is for you,’ Helena said, presenting Nathalie with the bottle of wine she had brought with her.
For some reason she felt stupidly nervous, and had spent ages agonising over which bottle to choose at the supermarket on the way back from work that evening.
Nathalie cleared a pile of paperwork off the kitchen table, making space for Helena to sit down.
‘No matter how many times I tell them to clean up their mess before bed, the house always looks like a warzone.’
‘With three kids I’m hardly surprised!’ Helena laughed. There was no point in telling Nathalie that it didn’t look a mess: there was no denying it. The amount of possessions covering every surface and inch of floor could have given Margery a run for her money, before Helena’s intervention.
‘I’m sure other mothers manage to have three kids and immaculate homes.’
‘They probably have help.’
‘Maybe. Anyway. What can I get you? Wine? Gin and tonic? Beer?’
‘I’d love a glass of wine, if you have some open?’
‘Silly question,’ Nathalie grinned. ‘The only way I survive motherhood is wine. Copious amounts of it.’ She glugged red wine into two glasses and gave one to Helena.
‘Something smells delicious,’ Helena said as she took a sip.
‘I can’t take any credit,’ Nathalie said. ‘As you know, I don’t cook. But I do know the best things to bung in the oven and then pretend that I’ve made myself. This steak and ale pie is one of my favourites.’
Helena laughed as Nathalie bent down to peer into the oven.
She was wearing a pair of navy cord dungarees over a rainbow covered jumper.
Her blonde hair was pulled back into her trademark scrunchy, this time a polka dot one, and she wore large tortoiseshell hoops in her ears.
Bright pink lipstick completed the look.
There was something so cheerful about the way she dressed.
Helena loved it. Since buying her red coat she had started experimenting a bit more with clothes herself, inspired by Nathalie to be a bit bolder with her choices.
It felt good to be dressing for herself and not for Noah’s approval.
She thought of all the times she had secretly envied women like Nathalie their freedom.
Now there was no longer any need to feel envious.
Nathalie was one of those people who made you feel at ease in an instant.
She was quick witted and opinionated. She had absolutely no qualms about sharing personal details about herself.
She was an over sharer if anything, another trait Helena admired.
It felt like you were able to get to know her in no time, and it encouraged Helena to do the same.
As they put the world to rights over dinner, Helena felt an exciting feeling creep over her: she had a sneaking suspicion that she and Nathalie might become very good friends.
*
Several weeks later, Helena was back at Nathalie’s for dinner.
It was quickly becoming a tradition that once a week Helena would come over with a bottle of wine and they would have dinner together.
To make it fair they had started taking it in turns to cook, though they always ate at Nathalie’s, to save her having to pay for a babysitter.
This week, Helena had brought a shepherd’s pie, ready to bake in the oven.
They had washed it down with two enormous glasses of red wine, discussing their weeks, work and Nathalie’s kids.
Helena decided it was high time that she broached the one subject they had so far failed to discuss in any great detail: Noah and Raffy.
So far Helena had only hinted that something bad had happened.
She had known that it would only be a matter of time before she would tell Nathalie the whole truth, but she hadn’t felt quite ready to talk about it up until now.
There was something about Nathalie that made Helena feel completely at ease.
Over the time they had spent together, they had built up such a close rapport.
She felt as though she wanted to spill her innermost secrets.
It felt right to share what had happened with her.
And she felt sure that whatever she said, Nathalie wouldn’t be shocked, nor would she judge her.
She sensed Nathalie was the kind of woman who, once she had befriended you, would be fiercely loyal to the end.
As the whole sorry story came pouring out she felt that same sense of lightening she had felt when telling Margery and Johnny.
The burden of carrying the sordid truth around with her was lessened once again.
She felt supported by Nathalie’s reaction, validated once again knowing that she had been the victim, not the perpetrator.
She told her about the verbal abuse, the emotional bullying, the controlling behaviour. Everything.
‘That’s why we couldn’t say yes to Maisy’s party,’ Helena explained. ‘I so wanted to come. Raffy would have loved it. But Noah point blank refused. I felt so embarrassed. It was so kind of you to ask us…’
‘You know I always suspected there was something not quite right there,’ Nathalie said as she topped up their glasses. ‘There was something about him, a look in his eyes… I could never put my finger on it. I always thought you seemed lovely though.’
‘I was so worried everyone would think it was me. That I was rude or antisocial. How could they know it was all him?’
Encouraged by Nathalie’s reaction so far, and feeling emboldened to relive it all by the wine she had drunk, Helena told Nathalie about the day he left, the weeks that followed. Nathalie sat and listened, aghast.
‘You know, when Mike left I felt exactly the same,’ Nathalie said.
‘God I can’t even bear thinking about it.
The loneliness. The panic. All I wanted was to have him back, I’d have put up with the cheating, the fighting…
I was so desperate for adult company, some help with the kids.
I’d have done anything not to be on my own. ’
Helena nodded. The weight of all that misery was almost tangible still. ‘How old was Meg when he left?’
‘Six months.’
Helena gasped. ‘Oh my god.’ She couldn’t imagine how that must have felt, with all the postnatal hormones, the tiredness that came with having such a small baby, and the two older children to contend with.
Nathalie laughed wryly. ‘It was awful. And I’ve been on my own ever since. I’ve dated people, of course, but I’ve never felt comfortable enough to bring someone into the children’s lives in that way. It’s not that simple. I am so protective over them.’
‘I bet.’ Helena realised that if Nathalie and Johnny were seeing each other, they’d be keeping things quiet.
She wanted to ask whether her suspicions were true, but decided not to put her on the spot.
Nathalie was the kind of person who would say if she wanted to, and so far she hadn’t mentioned Johnny in that way at all.
‘When the kids started school it wasn’t so bad.
I finally got to meet the other mums and make some friends.
But before then, there was nothing. The four of us stuck in the house, the garden, the village playground, day in, day out.
I could barely afford petrol to go anywhere in the car.
I hardly had any money. I couldn’t work, the childcare was too expensive.
I lived off benefits, and the pittance I got from Mike each month, and had to make sure we were all fed and clothed. It didn’t go far let me tell you.’
‘Does he still pay?’
Nathalie nodded. ‘He has to. And I think it’s his conscience’s way of wiping his hands clean of his kids. He sees them maybe once a year, if they’re lucky. He lives in Dubai now. He’s got a new family…’
Helena couldn’t believe he wasn’t around to help Nathalie at all. She had assumed he must have them at least for the odd weekend. ‘God it sounds hard.’
‘It was. It still is. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. And as I said, it was better when they started at school. And when Meg started in Reception, I started up Beauty Inc.’
As well as her online presence Nathalie ran a mobile beauty clinic, providing spray tans, manicures and pedicures for customers in their own homes. ‘It took a while to drum up business, but it has low overheads and soon enough the money started trickling in.’
Helena felt so inspired by her friend’s determination to make a good life for herself and her three children despite everything she had been through. ‘I think you are amazing Nat. I honestly had no idea you had been through such a tough time.’
‘I wish you had been living here in those dark years. What a difference it would have made to have someone my age in the village. I would have forced you to be my friend, fuck Noah!’
Helena burst out laughing at the expression on Nathalie’s face. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness these past few months. About how soul destroying it is. I truly think it’s the worst kind of cruelty.’
‘The worst,’ Nathalie nodded in agreement.