Chapter Fourteen
“Mummy!”
Harriet let out a startled oof as Chloe plowed into her stomach, wrapping her skinny arms around her waist. “I missed you.”
Love and gratitude poured through her in a warm, sweet rush. “I missed you too, darling.” She looked up to smile at William and Mallory, who were hanging back. “I missed all of you.”
Mallory snorted but Harriet caught her small smile and felt another rush of thankfulness. Then she caught Richard’s warm smile, his hazel eyes glinting, and something in her lurched, as if she’d missed the bottom step on the staircase.
She straightened, taking hold of Chloe’s hand as she avoided Richard’s eyes and looked around the studio flat where he’d been living for the last two months. It was tiny, little more than a bedsit, a rectangle of a room with a wedge of a kitchen and a tiny bathroom tacked on, above a chip shop on Bexley’s high street.
Guilt niggled at her as she saw how he was living—a cheap sofa, a futon on the floor, a card table with two folding chairs. Willoughby Close was homier by miles. But then Richard had wanted to stay in London, so he could continue to network. The last time Harriet had asked about the job search had been weeks ago, and Richard had spoken vaguely yet again about promising leads and some freelance work he was doing.
“Freelance?” Harriet had asked. “Who does freelance investment management?”
“It’s not investment management,” Richard had said.
His tone had been repressive and Harriet had decided not to ask just what it was he was doing freelance. Maybe she didn’t want to know.
“Have you had a good time?” she asked the children now.
“We saw dinosaurs,” Chloe said. “And stuffed animals!” She shuddered theatrically. “Like, real ones that were dead and then stuffed.”
“You went to Natural History Museum?” She was still talking to the children rather than Richard, but she could feel his presence.
She could smell his aftershave, not the expensive one she’d bought him every Christmas for the last few years, but a cheap version he used to buy at Boots that she remembered from their university days.
And this flat… it reminded her of their first flat as newlyweds in Camden Town—the cheap furniture, plastic crates and shelving from Ikea that had seemed like a step up, once upon a time. Once upon a very long time ago.
“Mummy,” Chloe said in a tone of great impatience, “you’re not listening.”
“Sorry.” Harriet looked down at her. “Tell me again.” And this time she listened avidly as Chloe told her all about the dinosaurs.
“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Richard asked when Chloe finally paused to take a breath. “I could get us all a couple of pizzas.”
“Oh, well…” Harriet glanced between him and the children and tried to gauge their expressions. Did they want to stay? Did she?
“Avoid some of the traffic,” he added.
“Please stay, Mummy,” Chloe begged.
Mallory and William remained silent, watching her.
“All right, then,” Harriet said. “I wouldn’t mind relaxing for a bit before I get back on the road.” She picked her way through the children’s bags which littered the floor to the sofa. “Goodness, how did you all manage in here? You must have been packed in like sardines.”
“We were,” Mallory interjected. “And Chloe snores.”
“I don’t,” Chloe retorted indignantly.
“And William farts,” Mallory added, to which William just grinned.
Harriet laughed, having missed them all and enjoying them now, even with their bickering. She glanced up and caught Richard looking at her again, unsettling her. “Ready for a break?” she asked.
“No,” he answered. “Not really.”
Harriet didn’t know what to say to that. She turned to Chloe, saying something mindless to cover the awkward silence.
“I’ll ring up the pizza place,” Richard said after a moment.
Fortunately, the children’s natural chatter covered any more awkwardness, and then Richard left to get the pizzas, and Harriet listened to William and Mallory bicker back and forth while Chloe continued her lengthy description about the dinosaurs.
“And how was Granny and Grandad’s?” Harriet asked Mallory when Chloe had lapsed into satisfied silence.
“Okay.” Mallory paused, shrugging. “Good.”
High praise from her oldest daughter. “Good,” Harriet returned lightly.
“Why didn’t you come, Mum?” William asked, grinding his elbow into her hip as he clambered closer to her.
“Well—”
Before Harriet could formulate a reply Mallory answered her brother’s question. “Because she and Dad are separated, stupid.”
“Separated?” William frowned. “What does that mean?”
Mallory rolled her eyes and retorted, “It means they’re going to get divorced.”
“That’s not true, Mallory,” Harriet interjected.
Chloe looked stricken.
“You’re not getting divorced!”
“No, we’re not,” Harriet said calmly. “But we are separated. I told you that, remember?” In a vague sounding way that had clearly gone over both William and Chloe’s heads.
“Why?” Chloe gave her an accusing look. “I thought Daddy was in London for work!”
Or lack of it. “It’s complicated, Chloe, and not something I’m willing to discuss with you right now, but I can say—”
“Discuss what?”
Everyone turned to look at Richard, who was smiling, his eyebrows raised in expectation, pizza boxes stacked in his arms.
“Whether you and Mum are getting divorced,” Mallory answered, and then flounced out of the room.
The only other room she could go to was the bathroom, which she did, slamming the door and locking it behind her. Harriet cringed inwardly to see the smile wiped from Richard’s face. He moved to the tiny kitchen and began opening the pizza boxes. Harriet felt as if she should apologize, but for what? It wasn’t her fault the children had asked about divorce. Really, it was amazing they hadn’t asked sooner.
They ate dinner in tense silence; Mallory thankfully came out of the bathroom after a few minutes and helped herself to a slice. Harriet began to feel wretched. She’d been so hopeful earlier, so determined to start moving forward, but now she felt stuck in a swamp of emotional uncertainty, wondering whether she was messing up her children’s lives along with her own.
After dinner, Richard turned the TV on for the children and looked meaningfully at Harriet. “Coffee?” he asked.
“Yes, thanks.” She was going to get a proper scolding now, wasn’t she?
Harriet picked up the paper plates littered with pizza crusts and brought them into the kitchen. There wasn’t much privacy from the rest of the tiny studio, but she could tell that Richard was determined to have as discreet a conversation as he could.
He switched on the kettle and then moved towards the fridge, where they couldn’t be seen from the sofa where the children were all slumped together. Feeling she had no choice, Harriet followed him.
“Why did you tell the children we were getting divorced?” he asked in a low whisper.
“I didn’t. Mallory said it, not me.”
“And where did she get the idea?”
“Where do you think?” Harriet fired back, trying to pitch her voice as low as Richard’s. “We haven’t been living together, Richard. We’re separated. Legally, now. Mallory’s old enough to put two and two together.”
“And come up with five, clearly.” Richard raked a hand through his hair. Harriet was standing so close to him she could see the stubble on his jaw, the gold flecks in his hazel eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to him. When had they last kissed? Months and months ago, even before the mobile phone bill discovery. And why on earth was she thinking about that now? The last person he’d kissed was no doubt sexy Meghan.
“I didn’t intend on having that conversation,” she said quietly, determined to stay even-tempered. She understood Richard’s ire—he’d gone out for pizza and come back to what looked like her telling the children they were getting divorced. “It sprang up out of nowhere and I did my best to diffuse it. I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” Richard took a deep breath and then nodded. He looked a little less angry, but still unhappy. “I feel like I botched my one chance to have a proper discussion with you, Harriet. Can’t we talk again?”
The kettle switched off and Harriet hesitated, torn between wanting to cut off the possibility of such a conversation and yet knowing it wasn’t fair. Tempted to have it too, even though it would be hard. They’d been married for fourteen years. They’d had three children together. They needed to have a conversation, even if it was just to end things officially, something she didn’t feel at all ready to do.
“I know,” she said. “I just… I haven’t been ready for a proper dissection of us and all that went wrong, Richard. It was hard enough to hear about Meghan. To hear you didn’t even like me anymore.”
“I didn’t mean it like that—”
She pressed her lips together, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Then how did you mean it?”
“I just felt like, in the last few years, we both got off track somehow.”
“Both?”
“I admit, I was too tied up in work.” He didn’t sound convinced, more like he was spinning her a line. He didn’t look at her.
“Why do you even want to get back together with me?” Harriet pressed, before she realized he hadn’t actually said that he did.
“You’re the mother of my children. I don’t want to be a divorced dad. I don’t want to live in a place like this.” He gestured to the little flat.
She knew what he meant, but it still hurt. Where was the love and affection? The I-can’t-live-without-you declaration? Not forthcoming, apparently.
Richard was gazing at her steadily now. “I promise you, nothing happened between me and Meghan—”
“You mean nothing physical, besides a couple of kisses.” Which was bad enough. “That’s not even what hurts, Richard. It’s the emotional…” She took a gulping sort of breath. “That hurts, almost more, if I’m honest. Can you understand that?”
He looked away, and she couldn’t tell if he was considering her statement or simply annoyed by it. “So you’d rather I slept with her?” he finally said, sounding exasperated, and Harriet flinched.
“No, of course not, but… when’s the last time you saw her, Richard?”
Richard didn’t answer for a moment, which was all the confirmation she needed. She felt a spasm of pain flash through her, like a knife in the chest.
“She’s a friend,” he said at last, and Harriet shook her head. “That’s all.”
“I need to go.”
“Harriet—”
“You can’t have it both ways, Richard. You can’t hang out with Meghan in London and then make your droopy dog-eyes at me. I’m going.” She couldn’t believe how much it hurt, that he was still seeing Meghan.
Still looking to her for emotional support, for friendship, and who knew what else, because his wife had turned into someone he didn’t like. Was she being absurd, to feel so betrayed? She felt breathless with pain.
She turned away from Richard, managing to compose herself. Just. “Come on, everybody,” she called. She thought she sounded normal but she must not have because Mallory gave her a strange look. “Time to go home.”
She stood by the door, her arms folded tightly, as the children gathered their things.
“Can I have my phone back?” Mallory asked Richard sulkily, and Harriet looked at her in surprise.
“You didn’t have your phone?”
“I took it off her for the week,” Richard explained. “She was on that thing all the time.”
“Oh.” So Richard had become proactive in his parenting. A good thing, of course, and yet… everything tonight was making her feel out of sorts. “Come on,” Harriet called again, and Richard hugged each of the children in turn before they all trooped out to the car. Harriet didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t trust herself to sound or act normal.
They were all subdued on the car ride home, crawling through London traffic, while Harriet gave herself a stern mental talking-to. So she really did need to move on with her life. She’d started to do that over the last week, but the minute Richard had entered the picture she’d had a major wobbly. They were legally separated. He was still seeing Meghan in some form. He sounded like he wanted to figure out how to get back together and yet Harriet couldn’t envision it. Couldn’t see how they could turn the rubble of their wrecked lives back into a solid foundation.
As she drove into Willoughby Close, Harriet felt a little calmer. She was making a life for herself here. Making friends, taking small steps. Those were all good things. So she’d just keeping inching forward, and things would start to feel better eventually. She had to believe that.
She unlocked the door to number two and the children pushed past her, eager to get home to their own beds and all of their stuff.
“You painted!” Mallory exclaimed, and Harriet couldn’t tell if her daughter sounded enthused or accusing. With Mallory it was often impossible to tell.
“Yes.” She scooped the post up from the mat by the door. “Do you like it?”
Mallory narrowed her eyes as she studied the light blue walls. “I guess it’s okay.”
“Good. I bought some different paint samples. I thought we could paint the bedrooms this week. And do some stuff in the garden.”
Mallory’s eyes were still narrowed as she looked at her. “So we’re staying here?”
“Where else would you go?” Harriet asked lightly.
“I don’t know.” Mallory hunched a shoulder. “When we moved in here, it seemed like it wasn’t going to be forever.”
“I suppose it wasn’t meant to be.” Harriet hesitated. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Mallory,” she admitted. “But while we’re here, this is home, and I want to treat it as such. Okay?” She smiled, raising her eyebrows, hoping her daughter wouldn’t descend into a sulk.
To her relief Mallory didn’t. “Okay,” she said quietly, and then went upstairs without, thankfully, slamming the door.
Harriet walked towards the kitchen as she sorted through the post. Bill, circular, a reminder she needed to have her eyes checked, and then—
A letter from Oxford University.
It had to be a rejection. Rejections came by letters, interviews by phone calls. With a dull, leaden feeling in her stomach, Harriet opened the letter.
Dear Ms. Lang, We would like to invite you to interview…
Harriet let out a shriek, and the children came running downstairs.
“What is it?”
“Are you okay, Mum?”
“Yes.” Harriet beamed at them all. “I got a job interview!” The children looked at her, nonplussed. Harriet laughed. “Oh never mind, I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I’m quite chuffed.” Still smiling, she went to press play on the answering machine with its red blinking light.
“This message is for Harriet Lang,” a cheery voice chirped. “I’m pleased to say the puppies have been born, and are ready for pick up this week.”
Puppies…? From behind her the children began to screech in excitement and Harriet leaned closer to the machine, straining to hear the rest of the message.
“Please call Wold View Farm to confirm when you’ll be picking up your springer spaniel puppy.” The woman rattled off a number that Harriet didn’t have time to take down.
“We’re getting a puppy!” Chloe screamed, jumping up and down.
“Yes!” William fist-pumped the air.
“No, no, we’re not.” This had all got out of hand very quickly. Harriet looked at her children in mounting desperation. “We can’t get a puppy…”
“We can,” Mallory shot back fiercely. “We put our name down for one at a breeder’s last spring, don’t you remember?”
“No, I don’t,” Harriet retorted, but it was starting to come back to her.
The children had been begging for a dog for ages and she and Richard had put it off. Harriet knew who ended up walking and training and cleaning up after the dog. Her.
But last spring they’d all sat down and had a big discussion about responsibility. Mallory had promised to walk the dog every day. With Chloe in reception, it had seemed like the right time. And she’d liked the idea of a dog at the Old Rectory, in a vague sort of way. She’d pictured some noble hound sprawled on the grass under the old apple tree, the perfect way to complete their idyllic family life. Ha bloody ha ha.
“I remember,” she told Mallory. “But things are different now—”
“I know things are different!” Mallory looked ready to work herself up into a full-blown rage. “Trust me, Mum, I know. I don’t have my house or my pony or my friends.”
“Wait, your friends—”
“And I’m not even going to Ellerton! So I know. But you did promise us a puppy, and you paid for it already.”
She’d paid a deposit of a couple hundred pounds, Harriet recalled. Pocket change back then.
“Are we not getting a puppy?” Chloe asked in a tragic whisper, tears trickling down her face. William kicked the skirting board for good measure, leaving a black smudge from his trainer.
Harriet sighed, recognizing imminent defeat. “All right, I’ll call the farm back,” she said. “And we can see. But I need to work, and a puppy at home all day…”
“You don’t have a job yet,” Mallory pointed out, a note of gleeful triumph in her voice. “And we’re getting the puppy this week, when we’ll all be home.”
It seemed, Harriet thought in resignation, a done deal.