Chapter 15 #3
I frowned. ‘Ryan isn’t abusive.’ Staring at the window, I went on.
‘Things haven’t always been easy for him.
He’s been passed by at work for promotions.
I think his problems go back to his schooldays – he told me once he was bullied.
’ I couldn’t believe the memories that were coming back.
‘I think it left him feeling inferior to other people – it’s why he drinks. To hide it.’
‘Has he spoken to anyone about this?’ Caitlin asked.
‘He went to AA a few years ago. He stayed sober for about a year. But he was miserable.’ I looked at Caitlin. ‘The bottom line is, he doesn’t want to stop.’
‘And you can’t change that,’ she said. ‘It might be hard to hear, but Ryan is abusive.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘He’s been physically abusive towards your son. And his behaviour towards you and your daughter is emotionally abusive.’ She paused. ‘Can you see that?’
Abuse. Was that what this was? I sighed. ‘I’ve never seen it like that.’
‘Do you think there’s a reason for that?’
As I sat there, tears pricked my eyes as I tried to explain. ‘It feels terrible that I’ve let my children be exposed to it. That I haven’t done anything about it.’
‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t see it for what it was.’ I was silent for a moment. Then it all came pouring out of me. ‘My father used to drink. My mother left us with him – me and my brother. My childhood was horrible. My father was far worse than Ryan is.’
‘In what way?’ Caitlin asked quietly.
‘He abused my mother. It’s why she left.
I’ve never understood how she could leave us with him.
’ Tears filled my eyes. ‘After she’d gone, he used to beat us,’ I said numbly.
‘We never had clean clothes.’ I swallowed the lump that was suddenly in my throat.
I remembered always feeling awkward at school, the eyes of the other girls on me.
‘The house was as tidy as my brother and I could make it. But we were kids. It was horrible, when I think back.’ Sitting there, I rested my head in my hands.
‘It’s OK,’ Caitlin said gently.
I look up. ‘That’s just it. Nothing was OK. Then it all got worse when my brother started taking drugs.’
‘How old were you?’ Caitlin asked.
‘By then, I was fourteen.’ I would never forget how desolate, how miserable, my life was.
‘Do you think in comparison, your children have a nice home?’
‘They have a lovely home,’ I said. ‘I’ve made sure of that.’
‘Would you say you’re forgiving of Ryan because your own father was so much worse?’
‘Probably.’ I blinked away the tears that filled my eyes. ‘My baseline was pretty low, wasn’t it?’
‘It isn’t surprising, given what you grew up with,’ she said.
I wiped my eyes. ‘I’ve spoken to my children,’ I told Caitlin. ‘I wanted them to know that I’m aware of the impact of Ryan’s drinking.’
‘How did they react?’ she asked.
‘Angrily,’ I confessed. ‘They told me I don’t know how it is for them. I don’t, do I? None of us really knows how someone else feels. As they see it, either Ryan has to move out, or the three of us do. It’s the only way anything’s going to change.’
Caitlin’s eyes widened ever so slightly. ‘How did you feel when they said that?’
‘I said we had to think about their father. But it wasn’t what they wanted to hear. In their eyes, he doesn’t think about them.’ I shrugged. ‘I suppose the fact is he’s destroyed his relationship with them. He makes no effort – he’s never apologised. It’s all down to him.’
‘I completely see their point,’ Caitlin said. ‘They see their father’s abuse for what it is. The question is, where does that leave you?’
‘Well, I kind of have a plan,’ I said tentatively.
* * *
As the first days of 2014 stole in, rightly or wrongly – unbelievable though it seemed, in the turmoil of my mind, I still couldn’t decide which – I started to look for somewhere for the three of us to move to.
The first morning of the new term, I was awake as the sun rose. I showered quickly and dressed, waiting for you and Ollie to run out to catch the school bus, then leaving for work before Ryan woke up.
It was a cold, damp morning, a stiff breeze stinging my skin. The streets were coming to life, the shop windows already stripped of their Christmas finery, the roads still quiet so that I arrived at our workshop a good hour earlier than I normally would have.
Normal… I was starting to doubt the existence of such a thing; any sense of it seemed to have been obliterated from my world.
Going inside, I closed the door behind me, switching on the light at the back and sitting down at one of the tables.
Opening my laptop, I started scrolling through, looking for information about the divorce process, before searching for local lawyers.
By the time Lucy came in, I’d made a short list of three and emailed them.
‘You look busy,’ she said as she breezed in. ‘It’s freezing out there.’
‘Luce?’ I looked at my friend. ‘I’ve made a decision.’ I paused. ‘I’m leaving Ryan.’
She breathed out slowly. ‘Thank God.’
As I made us tea, my mobile buzzed with a call from one of the divorce lawyers I’d emailed. They’d had a cancellation and could fit me in later that afternoon.
So it was that after work, I found myself sitting in a small reception area at the solicitor’s office.
Suzanne, my lawyer, was professional and to the point.
My heart was heavy as she outlined the process.
I’d never wanted my marriage to come to this.
But I was realising as the meeting went on, it should have happened years ago.
When I got home, Ryan blanked me. Too emotionally drained to coax words out of him, I went upstairs. I could hear the TV on in Ollie’s room, while music filtered from yours. Ryan and I would have to talk, to decide what to do about the house. But tonight wasn’t the time.
I heated beans on toast for you and me and Ollie, made idle talk about our days. When Ryan couldn’t bring himself to speak to me, I was no longer going out of my way for him.
The rest of the evening passed in silence and with an early start the next day, I went to bed early. I half expected Ryan to come stumbling in, demanding that we talk. But much to my relief, he didn’t.
‘How did it go?’ Lucy asked the following morning.
‘Sad. But good.’ My heart was heavy at the thought of what lay ahead. ‘I’m doing the right thing.’
‘I won’t argue with that,’ Lucy said. ‘An enquiry came in last night. It’s for a fab wedding – next summer. A rustic wedding by a lake. They want us to meet them there.’
‘Sounds just our thing.’ But my enthusiasm was half-hearted.
‘It really is,’ Lucy said. ‘Don’t worry, Edes. I’ll do the meeting. You’ve got enough on your mind.’
It was true. My mind was filled to overflowing. And it was about to get much worse when I got home and Ryan was back early, waiting for me.
‘What’s this?’ he said curtly.
I glanced at what he was holding – a leaflet on divorce I’d picked up last night from the solicitor’s office that I’d left in my desk. Taking it, I stared at him. ‘You have no right to go through my things.’
‘I don’t have any rights, from the look of things.’ His jaw was clenched. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘When you’d stopped stonewalling me.’ I was suddenly, totally, done with his dysfunctional behaviour. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had a civilised conversation about anything.’
He folds his arms. ‘Whose fault is that?’
A heavy sigh came from me. ‘A broken marriage isn’t always about blame, Ryan. Can’t you see that? Neither of us is happy. In fact…’ Seeing the look in his eyes, I broke off, frightened of provoking him.
‘In fact, what?’ He stared at me. ‘Say it, Edie.’ He paused. ‘You can’t, can you? You accuse me of being terrible at communicating, but I’m not sure you’re any better.’
My mind was contorted with pain, powerlessness, frustration. Any ability we had to communicate was long gone. I knew then that there was no hope of reaching any understanding. ‘That’s so unfair,’ I said.
‘Now you know how it feels,’ he said maliciously. ‘It isn’t nice, is it? Having someone pointing out your failings? But I can’t remember the last time you said anything nice to me.’
‘Mum?’ you called out from upstairs.
‘It’s OK, sweetie.’ I was speechless, reeling. Wondering how I’d ever imagined I loved this man. Still holding myself, I eased myself upright. ‘We’re packing our things. We’re moving out.’
His jaw was clenched, his eyes flashing. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
I heard footsteps on the stairs, just before Ryan thrust one of his arms out and in an aggressive movement, swept everything off the worktop; the sound of shattered china made me flinch. ‘This is your fault as much as mine,’ he said threateningly.
‘Dad, stop.’ Ollie’s voice came from behind me.
It was followed by your voice. ‘Yes, Dad, stop.’
A look of fury crossed his face. ‘Shut up,’ he bellowed.
I gazed past him towards you, terrified that he was coming after you.
But he stepped closer to me. ‘Not so clever now, are you?’ As Ollie tried to pull him away, Ryan shoved him.
My body started to shake. ‘Don’t, Ryan.’
My fear seemed to fuel him. He raised a hand. Then he slapped me.
I heard you scream as I slumped to the floor, waited for him to kick me as he had once before. ‘I’m calling the police,’ I thought I heard Ollie say.
‘Give me that.’ There was a scuffling, the sound of more china being swept onto the floor as you crouched down beside me, Lexie, your face white. ‘Mum? Are you OK?’
‘The police are coming.’ Ollie’s voice was shaking.
I heard the sound of Ryan’s footsteps, then his keys being picked up. ‘Fucking jokers,’ I thought I heard him say, before the front door opened then slammed shut.
I sat up just as Ollie came back. His face was white as a sheet. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Ollie crouched down next to you. ‘Should I call an ambulance?’
‘No.’ My head ached where I’d fallen. But the pain in my heart was far worse. ‘Are you both OK?’ I gazed at Ollie, then at you.
‘We’re fine,’ Ollie said. ‘Aren’t we, Lex?’
Ashen, you nodded. ‘We have to get out, Mum.’ You looked at Ollie. ‘Did you really call the police?’
He shook his head. ‘I should have.’
I imagined getting the police involved, getting a restraining order put on Ryan; knew it would only enrage him further. And a part of me was so worn down, all I wanted was to get away from there. ‘It’ll only make things worse,’ I said quickly.
* * *
I called Lucy, and she told us to come over. To bring what we needed for a couple of weeks. The rest could wait. In silence, we packed the car with clothes and some other things. I hurried you, terrified that Ryan would return.
When we got to Lucy’s, she took one look at my face, then hurried us inside and closed the door behind us.
‘Ollie was right. You should call the police,’ she said gently. ‘Honestly, Edie. He shouldn’t get away with this.’ She got out her phone. ‘You’re not going to like me doing this, but I’m going to photograph your face. At the very least, you should show your lawyer what he’s done.’
Powerless to argue, I let her. At my lowest ebb, I no longer knew what I was doing.
‘You can stay here for as long as you need to,’ she said. ‘The kids can have the spare room, if they don’t mind sharing. You can have Mia’s while she’s at her dad’s. We’ll work something out for when she’s back.’
‘Thank you.’ It wasn’t just my hands that were shaking. My whole body was.
‘You’re in shock.’ Lucy looked concerned. ‘Edie, I know this is hard. But I really think I should call the police.’
‘I think so, too,’ you said. ‘Dad’s been angry so many times. But this time, it was really scary.’ Your voice wobbled.
‘Ollie?’ Lucy looked at my son. ‘You were so brave. You both were.’ She looked at you, then at her phone. ‘I’ll call them.’
‘Fine.’ I was utterly defeated; had nothing left to lose.
After Ryan’s outburst, my guilt knew no bounds. I hated what you and Ollie had seen; should have been able to prevent it. Such were the tricks emotional abuse plays on you that I saw it as all my fault. If I hadn’t been to see the divorce lawyer, maybe it would never have come to this.
‘At least we’re not there any more,’ Ollie said later that night. ‘Whatever happens next, it’s going to be better, Mum.’
‘I’m never talking to him again,’ you said. ‘Not ever.’
When the police turned up, I told them what happened. They also spoke to you and Ollie, before going to call on Ryan. And however illogical it might seem to anyone else, I felt so much shame that it had happened and I hadn’t been able to stop it.
Later, alone with Lucy, she poured me a large glass of wine. ‘You need this.’
I stared at my glass. ‘I used to love a glass of wine. But now, all I see is the root of Ryan’s problems.’
‘You’re not Ryan,’ she said. ‘And it is just one glass.’ She paused. ‘Are the kids OK?’
‘Not really.’ I sipped the wine. ‘They shouldn’t have had to see what happened today, Luce.’
‘But they have.’ She paused. ‘At least they know what their father is really like.’
‘How in any way is that a good thing?’
‘It isn’t. There’s no spin to put on this. It’s horrible for them.’ She leaned forwards. ‘But they already knew what he was like, didn’t they? And they’re great kids. They have you. They’ll be OK.’
The next morning, I had another meeting with the lawyer, expedited after the events of the previous night – and to find out how much financial support I could expect from Ryan.
Two days later, a house came on the rental market, a couple of miles away from where Lucy lived. It was smaller than ours, but well-placed for buses to school and into the town. It also had a sprawling garden.
When I went to view it, I could see the three of us there. I imagined the peace we’d feel away from Ryan’s moods, no longer having to walk on eggshells around him.
That afternoon, when you got back from school, I took Ollie and you to see it; misinterpreted your silence as reluctance. ‘I know it’s small,’ I said quickly.
‘It isn’t that.’ Ollie looked at me. ‘I didn’t think we’d ever do this.’ He glanced at you. ‘I like it here,’ he said. ‘Don’t you, Lex?’
‘It’s really nice.’ A frown flickered across your face. ‘Dad won’t know where we are, will he?’
‘He’s never coming here,’ I reassured you. But it would take time for all of us to believe that.
You gazed out of the window. ‘I like the garden.’
I felt my heart warm. ‘About the garden…’ Then I told you both about my plans to grow the flowers Lucy and I would use for weddings; watched your faces change, the realisation sinking in that this was happening. We were doing this.