Chapter 7
BEFORE
Dear Lexie,
I often wonder how our minds work. It’s the way memories come seemingly from nowhere; vivid, fleeting glimpses that take our breath away. You told me once about one of your earlier ones that was standout. I remembered it too.
You were seven and Ollie nine. I came around from the deepest sleep to find the bed empty beside me, suddenly remembering that Ryan was away on a work trip.
It felt like Christmas as I sprang out of bed.
The house was oddly quiet, no doubt down to the late night the three of us had had, watching movies until Ollie was yawning and you had fallen asleep.
I slipped downstairs and made some coffee. Then, opening the back door, I stood there for a moment. Without Ryan there, I felt a lightness that was unfamiliar. A sense of anticipation, as though I knew already, today was going to be a good day.
Suddenly cold, I pulled my dressing gown around me as I stepped outside and went over to the bench.
The grass sparkled with frost as I watched the sun rise behind the trees, the sound of the brightest birdsong echoing around me.
It was a rare moment of peace, in which I felt at one with the world; a feeling that was missing not just from my life, but from yours and Ollie’s, too.
And I knew why that was. It was the effect Ryan had on the three of us; how trapped I felt. How mostly I’d assumed that was just how life was now – how we were. Anything else felt impossible to contemplate.
Sipping my coffee, I was uneasy all of a sudden.
I needed more moments like this. But it was a marriage in which time was in short supply.
I had a sleeping partner; a marriage in which, in many ways, motherhood equated to single parenthood.
In short, this worked for one person out of the four of us – and that was Ryan.
‘Mummy?’ Your interruption broke my chain of thought.
I turned to see you standing on the doorstep, Eeyore tucked under one of your arms, your eyes still sleepy, your breath freezing in small clouds.
‘Morning, sweet pea.’ I held out my arms. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I slept very well.’ Coming over, you climbed onto my lap. ‘Is Daddy at work?’
‘He is.’ Wrapping my dressing gown around you so that it enveloped both of us, I stroked your hair. ‘I think he’s coming home tomorrow.’
‘I wish…’ You sounded wistful. Then you looked at me.
‘What do you wish?’ I asked.
You looked away; hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t say it.’
‘Because it won’t come true? You can tell me,’ I said gently. ‘Telling mummies doesn’t count.’
‘It isn’t that.’ You were silent for a moment. ‘If I tell you, do you promise not to be cross?’
I hugged you closely. ‘Of course I won’t be.’ But I was frowning, wanting to know what was worrying you.
For a moment, you didn’t move. ‘I wish Daddy wasn’t coming back.’
I held my breath; in all my years of motherhood, nothing had prepared me for this.
I opened my mouth to let that pent-up air come rushing out; with it, the words: but he’s your Daddy, Lexie.
He loves you. Layering more guilt onto the guilt you were already feeling. But I stopped myself. ‘Why, sweetie?’
I felt your little body tense against me, then the shrug of your shoulders. ‘He makes everything different.’
Before I could reply, there were footsteps behind us and I turned to see Ollie standing there. ‘Hi, darling. Just woken up?’
Nodding, he came and sat next to us.
‘Ask Ollie,’ you said, matter-of-factly. ‘He’ll tell you it’s better when Daddy isn’t here.’
Ollie looked startled. ‘I didn’t say anything, Mum.’
‘It’s OK,’ I reassured him. ‘I know you didn’t. Lexie was just talking.’ Out of my depth, I tried to pull together the damaged threads of us. ‘I think we need to talk about Daddy. I know it seems like sometimes he’s cross…’
‘He’s always cross,’ you said.
‘Lexie’s right, Mum.’ Ollie looked unhappy. ‘It’s like he hates us.’
That was your memory, when you looked back. You and Ollie, both of you plucking up the courage to tell me how you really felt.
‘He doesn’t hate you.’ I looked at him, shocked.
‘He’s your dad, Ollie. He loves you. I know he gets angry.
But it isn’t your fault.’ The silence was agonising as I sat there, knowing we should talk about this.
But for the life of me, I didn’t know what to say.
‘How long have you been feeling like this?’ I asked as gently as I could.
‘A long time,’ you said.
I looked at your brother. ‘Olls?’
He shrugged. ‘Like Lexie said. Quite a long time.’
‘Listen.’ I reached an arm around Ollie.
Held both of you close to me, blinking away the tears that were suddenly in my eyes.
‘I promise you Daddy does love you,’ I said softly.
Desperately. ‘Sometimes grown-ups have other things on their minds. It can make them seem grumpy. But I can tell you, if Daddy is like that, it’s not because of anything either of you have done. ’ I paused. ‘Do you understand that?’
Ollie shrugged again. ‘OK.’
Still sitting on my lap, you sighed. ‘I wish he could just be nicer,’ you said.
I couldn’t believe I hadn’t picked up on how you were feeling; it was heartbreaking to acknowledge how, until now, you and Ollie hadn’t told me. I imagined talking to Ryan, knowing how it would go down. Denial, followed by anger; a refusal to see it through anyone’s eyes but his own.
Hoping it would pass, in desperation I resorted to the tried and tested deflection as I stood up, eased you down. ‘I think breakfast is needed. How about I make pancakes?’
This morning, even the mention of your favourite food didn’t raise your spirits.
After making some anyway, you both ate several.
But the conversation weighed on my mind and for the rest of the day, I went the extra mile.
Yours and Ollie’s favourite playground, chips on the beach for lunch.
Ice cream in the afternoon. When I suggested going on the pier, at last your eyes lit up.
That evening, the three of us piled onto the sofa and watched a movie together. The multi-coloured iced cake we’d made was on the coffee table, with glasses of fizzy drinks. You remembered that, too.
You always tried too hard to make things right, Mum.
The movie was one we’d watched before that the three of us loved. Engrossed, none of us noticed when the front door opened, then Ryan walked in.
‘Turn it down, will you?’
Hearing his voice, I leapt up. ‘I didn’t think you were home until tomorrow.’ Instantly apprehensive, I tried to smile. ‘How was your course?’
‘Isn’t it time the children were in bed?’
‘It’s Saturday night, Ryan. There’s only another half an hour of this.’
I held my breath, waiting for him to argue. But he turned and marched into the kitchen.
I sat down with you and Ollie again, glancing at both of you. But your earlier high spirits had taken flight, leaving drawn faces, anxiety-laden eyes. Anxiety put there by Ryan. I reached my arms around you both. ‘Let’s enjoy the rest,’ I said softly.
‘That’s what I mean,’ you murmured as you nestled in against me.
I was silent. But I knew what you were saying. Within seconds of coming in, the atmosphere had changed, Ryan’s presence leaving the three of us walking on eggshells.
* * *
‘So how was your course?’ I asked Ryan again, once you and Ollie had gone to bed. ‘I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow.’
‘I never said that,’ he said defensively.
I checked the calendar. ‘Well, that’s what’s been written on here.’
‘I must have got the dates wrong,’ Ryan said. ‘Is there any food in the fridge?’
‘Some cold chicken – and cheese.’ I looked at him for a moment. ‘Do you realise you didn’t even say hello to your children?’
‘Of course I did,’ he muttered as he opened the fridge.
As I stood there, it was one of those moments again. I could either let it go, or pick him up on it. ‘Ryan. I was there. And I can tell you, you didn’t.’ I sighed. ‘You’re their father. A role model. Do you want them to grow up thinking it’s OK to ignore people?’
‘I’m a perfectly good role model,’ he snapped, reaching into his pocket as his mobile buzzed. He answered it. ‘Can you hold on a moment?’ he said. Then, turning his back on me, he went into his study and closed the door behind him.
Straining my ears, I tried to make out the conversation that followed. His voice was muffled, but he was clearly arguing with someone. Several minutes passed before the call ended. When he came back to the kitchen, his face was red.
‘Is everything OK?’ I asked cautiously.
‘Seeing as you ask, no,’ he said abruptly. ‘The bastards have fired me.’
A feeling of horror filled me; a sense of déjà vu. Not again. ‘Surely they can’t do that. I mean, you were on a course.’ What could possibly have gone wrong?
‘It seems they can.’ Sitting down, the bluster seemed to have gone out of him.
‘What happened?’ Suddenly I was suspicious. No one gets fired without a reason.
‘There was a misunderstanding.’ He tried to make light of it. ‘I was drinking in the bar with some of the other chaps. We had a discussion and I suppose things got a bit heated. But Peter’s an idiot. He was bang out of line.’
I had a bad feeling about this. ‘What did you do, Ryan?’ I stared at my husband.
‘I hit him – well, it was more of a shove.’ He rested his head wearily in his hands. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. And it wasn’t hard. It was a work event, for Christ’s sake. I’m not that stupid.’
But clearly Ryan was that stupid. He went on telling me about the conversation – what he said, what Peter said, while the same words played on repeat in my mind. I hit him.
I spent the night awake, dreading what the morning would bring; wondering how the three of us would get through the days if Ryan was going to be at home all the time.
On Sunday morning, I was up before Ollie and you again. Going along to your bedrooms, I gently woke you.
‘Let’s go out for the day,’ I whispered to Ollie, then you. ‘Quiet as mice. We don’t want to wake Daddy.’
You needed no further encouragement. I gathered a change of clothes, a supply of snacks, before we crept out of the house and into the car.
I wasn’t sure where we were going, but we stopped on the way there for breakfast. And the weather made it easy for us.
Blessed with sunshine, we spent the day at the beach, climbing rocks and skimming stones, scrutinising rock pools for shrimps and pea crabs, stopping for a lunch of fish and chips wrapped in newspaper, fending off hungry seagulls.
I didn’t care that, if Ryan wasn’t working, we maybe wouldn’t be able to afford days like these in the future.
I was determined to make the most of what felt like our last day of unrestricted freedom, all too aware that I felt as though time was running out.
It was dark by the time we got home. After tea, both of you tired, you went to bed early. I teased the salty tangles out of your hair, then snuggled you into bed. Kissed an equally tired Ollie goodnight. Ryan didn’t ask where we’d been, nor did I tell him.
I woke up on Monday morning filled with dread, hiding it from you and Ollie as I got you ready for school.
But fortunately, by lunchtime, normality was restored.
After a phone call to an employment lawyer, Ryan was granted a reprieve and a written warning.
More than that, instead of drunk, by the time you came in from school, he’d only had a couple of beers.
‘I thought we’d order a takeaway tonight,’ he said to you both. ‘Pizza? Or fish and chips?’
I was on edge again, waiting for one of you to say that’s what you had yesterday. You’d had too much junk food this weekend, but I couldn’t say anything to Ryan. I didn’t dare. Mercifully, you didn’t, either.
‘Fish and chips, please, Daddy,’ you said cautiously.
‘How about you, Olls? Fish and chips OK with you?’ Ryan attempted to sound jovial, as though he was his mate.
Ollie nodded wordlessly; the worry in his eyes cut to my heart. Ryan was your father by blood. But you had already learned the hardest way that even when he was jovial, you couldn’t trust him.
* * *
As Christmas drew closer, I observed the patterns of our lives their interwoven threads; the highs and lows we experienced. We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t. In my attempts to normalise what went on in our house, Ryan’s mood swings, I tried to explain it to you both.
You looked puzzled. ‘Are you saying it’s normal to be unhappy, Mummy?’
‘Now and then, yes,’ I told you. ‘But if you’re unhappy all the time, it probably means something’s wrong.’
Ollie shook his head. ‘Dad’s unhappy all the time.’
I forced a smile. ‘Maybe that means that very soon, he’s going to be happy all the time.’
Ollie looked at me earnestly. ‘Maybe it just means something’s wrong.’
Sighing, I looked at you both. ‘Let’s forget about Daddy for a moment. I want to think about you two.’ I paused. ‘You’re the most important people in the world to me – and I want you to know. If you’re ever unhappy, whatever the reason, you must never, ever forget, I’ll always be here for you.’
I meant every word. I wanted to be the person you came to, someone you could rely on – no matter what was going on with Ryan. Only later did I realise it could never have been that simple. But when it came to Ryan, I failed to see what you saw.