Chapter Seven

 

 

AFTER LUNCHING WITH HETTY AT her house to discuss ideas for the future of her business, I arrive home with Rupert and Emily, who I’ve just picked up from school. Gage’s car is on the drive so I know he’s home. I’m not surprised when I look up and see the curtains on our bedroom upstairs closed tight shut.

“Yay, Daddy, Daddy!” Emily exclaims, because she knows her father’s home.

Everyone says Emily looks like me, but there are brief moments when I see Gage’s mother in our daughter – and it’s in those moments that I say a little prayer, hoping she doesn’t turn out like Nora, my mother-in-law.

We all pile inside and I plop Rupert in his highchair, grabbing him and his sister a drink and a couple of bananas.

“Watch Rupey while I go and see if Daddy is awake,” I tell Emily.

“Okay, Mummy.”

“I’ll be back down in two seconds.”

I hurry upstairs and dash towards the master bedroom. I’m not surprised when I discover Gage flat on his stomach, snoring away. He’s wearing just his boxers and clearly, when he arrived home earlier, he did nothing more than shower and fall straight into bed. He’s not even managed to cover himself with the duvet.

I check the en suite bathroom and find it’s still steamed up because he forgot to put the extractor fan on. Also, the toilet bowl is covered in what is either vomit or diarrhoea or a mixture of both. This is the type of husband he is. This is what he does.

I quickly grab the bleach and swill a generous amount around the inside of the bowl, then put on the extractor fan and shut the door, leaving Gage right where he is.

While he’s sleeping, I throw open a suitcase and start chucking some stuff inside.

I’m not putting up with this anymore.

I’ve packed a few things by the time I remember the kids are downstairs all by themselves.

I dash back down and discover no calamity has befallen them. Emily is breaking up bits of banana for her brother and he’s happily making a mess.

“Good girl, Ems. You’re such a good girl.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“He’s not very well so he’s having a nice sleep to feel all better. We’re going to Granny’s tonight so that Daddy can have a lovely long sleep without us waking him up. Okay?”

She peers at me, confused. “We don’t go to Granny’s in the week.”

“Yes, I know. Just this once. I’ll still take you to school in the morning, okay?”

“Will Granny get me a treat like she normally does?”

“I expect so.”

“Okay, Mummy. Can I kiss Daddy night night, though?”

“I don’t think so, honey. He smells a bit strange. I think we should leave him to it.”

“Okay, Mummy.”

I grab Rupert from his highchair and put him in the playpen in the living room. I put the telly on for Emily and hand her my tablet for her to play games on.

“I’ll be back in just a little while. Shout me if Rupert tries to climb over again, all right?”

“All right, Mummy,” she agrees.

I dash back upstairs, my heart racing. I’m afraid he’ll wake up and realise what I’m doing. I’m even more afraid that I’ll lose my bottle and stay.

However, as I throw in some more of my things, he doesn’t budge an inch. He’s snoring like an elephant.

After I’ve packed the essentials, I carry my case into the corridor and start raiding the kids’ bedrooms, throwing their stuff on top of mine. I grab the necessary stuff my kids can’t sleep without and decide whatever I forget can be bought if need be.

I zip up the case before flying downstairs. Out on the driveway, I shove the suitcase into the boot of my car. It’s a tight squeeze with the buggy already taking up space.

I dash back indoors and rally the kids.

Then we get in the car.

Then we’re gone.

 

 

MUM EMERGES FROM the house when she sees I’ve pulled up behind Dad’s car.

“What’s all this?” she asks, looking surprised but delighted we’re here.

“Let’s go inside.” I’ll get the case out later. For now, my priority is getting my kids indoors where Gage can’t hurt or harm me or my children.

The house is quiet when we get inside, which tells me Dad’s out.

“Here you go, kids,” she says, taking them into the playroom which used to be her office. It’s completely babyproof so it’s safe for Rupert to wander about. I know my children are a second chance for my mother, who had me late in life but would have loved to have had a whole bunch of kids.

“Look after Rupey won’t you darling?” I ask Emily, as the pair start dragging out toys and building blocks to play with.

“I’m hungry, Mummy,” she says.

“I’ll get you some dinner soon,” says Grandma, receiving a sweet smile from Emily in response. My daughter has her grandmother wrapped around her little finger.

I follow Mum into the kitchen where she puts the kettle on and checks on a shepherd’s pie she’s probably been cooking all day.

“Are you staying the night?”

“Would you mind?”

“No.”

Her silence speaks volumes; she’s neither surprised nor shocked I’m here.

“What’s he done this time, then?” she finally asks, when I fail to come right out with it.

“It won’t be forever, Mum. Just until we find our own place.”

“I’m not bothered about that, stay as long as you like. But I’d like to know what he’s done this time and whether I need to send Hetty round to sort him out.”

I give her a sad smile. “Nobody can sort him out, Mum. He’s been away drinking all weekend, come back, left the toilet in a right state. He’s asleep right now, completely passed out. I’ve just had it, Mum. He’s driven himself from the airport in that state. It’s pathetic.”

She pours water over our teabags and turns to me, arms folded. “Have you ever discussed with him that perhaps he needs help?”

“He wouldn’t listen if I did, Mum. And you know it.”

She removes our teabags and adds a splash of milk, handing me my cuppa.

“You married him, darling. You should try to honour the pledge you made.”

We’ve been through this so many times and each time, she says I should make my marriage work, and each time I try to explain that I can’t perform miracles. I’m just one woman. It takes two to make things work and so far, I’ve been the only one trying to repair the crumbling ruins of what formerly resembled an actual marriage. We were mad for one another once upon a time and I loved him, but then we had kids and I grew up – but he didn’t. Is it my fault – my responsibility – to awaken him to the reality of fatherhood and make him see that he has to put them first?

My mother is of the generation where she believes that you should stick by your husband no matter what – but what she doesn’t seem to appreciate is that it’s a changing world out there. I realise there’s a lot I could say, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate any of it. She believes, in her heart, that I should negate myself to help Gage become a better person. She just doesn’t see that I’ve already tried to do that – and it hasn’t worked – and I don’t think it will ever be enough to make him see sense.

“I think he needs help,” she says, “professional, like. Counselling, you know? Therapy, maybe. I think he could be a better person, he just needs help.”

There’s a knock on the door, interrupting our conversation. Mum looks puzzled, while I feel sick, wondering if Gage has followed me. Mum leaves me in the kitchen to go and answer the door.

“Oh, hello love,” I hear, as she welcomes in a guest. “You know you don’t need to buzz, just come in.”

With that, I know it’s Het, because Mum wouldn’t say that to anyone else and Het has never really viewed this as her home, even though my parents fostered her.

“What’s Liza doing here?”

Hetty arrives in the kitchen carrying Elizabeth who is zonked to the world, like most six-week-old babies living in a constant milk coma.

“She’s left him… again,” my mother says, trying to seem breezy about it all.

While my mother checks on my kids in the playroom, Het whispers, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” I counter.

When Mum returns to the room, our mouths snap shut and my mother looks suspiciously between us.

“What can we do for you, Hetty?” she asks.

Hetty hoists Elizabeth against her body. Clearly, she doesn’t intend on staying long. Maybe she’s been looking for me? I don’t know.

“Well, I drove past Liza’s and she wasn’t there so I came straight here.”

“Yeah?” I ask, now with suspicions of my own. I only just said goodbye to her an hour or so ago. What could have possibly transpired in an hour to bring her out here?

“Yeah, it’d be better if we chat in private, I think.” Het gestures with her eyes it’s not going to be pretty – whatever it is she has to say.

“I think we’re all grown-ups here,” my mother says.

Hetty hands Elizabeth to Granny, then brings out her phone. “Joe’s in a WhatsApp group with some local sportsmen who all do work for this one particular charity and sometimes, you know men, the banter can get a little fruity. Often, Joe doesn’t even participate, he’s only in this WhatsApp group because he wants to help at official events… you know? Anyway, he came home from training today and showed me this picture someone had posted in the group. He’s someone called Gareth or something, apparently a teammate of Gage’s, and he’d been away in Copenhagen at the weekend…”

My mother looks lost, shaking her head. However, I have a feeling I know what this might be about.

“Show me what you have,” I beg her.

Hetty passes me her phone, and on the screen, I spot a load of lads out on the lash in some bar. They’re all dressed in tiny little women’s dresses. Nothing out of the ordinary for a stag do. But then, there’s Gage. He’s pictured snogging this random woman in the background while everyone else poses for the photo. Gareth probably thought he was being funny, showing up so many well-known rugby players dressed as women, their muscles bulging in ridiculous ways out of a bunch of tiny pink dresses. There’s no denying it’s Gage and there’s no way on earth he could ever explain his way out of this. It just makes me wonder how many other weekends there have been – how many other women he’s messed about with. I feel dirty and disgusting. I feel hurt… and I feel appalled.

Hetty shows my mother the photo and she scowls. “Oh, what a stupid boy.”

“Stupid for getting caught, or stupid altogether?” I almost bark, but somehow, I stop myself.

Hetty turns to me, murmuring quietly, “I thought after our talk, you’d want to see it. Joe says there are other pictures like this… from other weekends, but he says he’s always tried to stay out because it’s not his business. I just thought you’d want to know.”

Surprisingly, her revelations don’t make me feel any better. I wish Joe had shown me this stuff ages ago. I wish I didn’t feel as filthy and disgusting as I do right now. I haven’t had sex with my husband in months but I stupidly thought it was because he was drinking so much, he wasn’t interested in it anymore. I never, ever imagined our diminished sex life was due to him having found other ways to get his rocks off.

It’s obvious Hetty has gone and told Joe everything I told her in confidence this morning – and that’s why he’s suddenly felt brave enough to come forward with this picture. The funny thing is, I empathise with Joe. I know exactly what it’s like to feel responsible for breaking up a family – and I know he watched his own parents’ marriage fall apart, and so I know it would have been difficult for him to decide what to do for the best.

“I’ve gotta go anyway, Liz. I’ve gotta head off to Jules and Warrick’s for dinner. I hope you’ll call me tomorrow so we can talk some more?”

I nod slowly. “Yeah, thanks, Het. Thanks.”

We hug it out, or rather she tries to give me sympathy, I think. I don’t know.

Mum and Hetty speak at the door while I stare at my children in the playroom.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I always thought I could cope with anything – that whatever Gage had to throw it me, my love for him would prevail. Yet gradually, over the years, he’s etched away at my resolve bit by bit. Me sleeping with Sam happened because I literally don’t have anything left. I don’t. I’m completely depleted. When I was with Sam, I didn’t know myself because for once, someone was giving something back, and I have never had that before. Ever.

I thought if anyone would fuck up life, it would be Hetty. Her teenage years were wild, with all her smoking and drinking and having underage sex. I thought if anyone would get pregnant by the wrong bloke, it would be her, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. I was never the one who was supposed to fail – she was – and yet here I am, having failed miserably. She’s winning at life – meanwhile, my whole life is crumbling all around me.

Am I not enough for him?

Did I create the bastard he’s become?

I don’t know.

Is it my fault?

Mum returns to the kitchen having spoken with Hetty out in the hall for long enough. She tries to avoid my eye and busies herself with tidying and wiping sideboards that are already clean.

“I’m going to end it, Mum. You know I have to.”

“Yes, I know,” she says, sounding almost as bereft as me.

“I tried, I really, really did. Sometimes, you can’t force someone to change. He is who he is.”

She takes a deep breath, clinging to the sideboard. Her back is to me because she doesn’t want me to see how guilty she feels (now Hetty’s probably told her what for in the hallway).

“I’m sorry I encouraged you to marry him, I’m sorry about the whole lot.”

“I think this is life, Mum. You win some, you lose some. I won two beautiful kids. You know I can’t bring them up around that… around his lifestyle.”

Not when my own father has a secret dependency none of us ever talk about. I don’t even have to ask where he is now… I know he’s at the pub. I know Mum will reheat his shepherd’s pie later on, no matter the time he returns home, no matter how little appetite he has after a skinful.

I’ve watched my mother suffer, but I won’t suffer in the same way. I know women have problems with drink, too – but it seems to me that so many women I know are expected to hold the fort while their boyfriends and husbands go about doing whatever they want.

“Will you be okay if I go for a walk?” I ask. “I shan’t be long, I promise. Just need to clear my head.”

“You go, I’ll have dinner ready in about half an hour, okay?”

“That’s great, I’ll be back for then.”

I kiss my kids in the playroom and tell them I’m just going to get them some sweets from the shop. Emily busies herself brushing her dolly’s hair while Rupert bashes bricks together.

I walk out into the village, taking some deep breaths as I go. I find a bench by the playing fields and send Sam a text:

Hey, can you talk?

He rings a couple of minutes later.

“Hello.”

“Liza, are you okay?”

“I’m at my mum’s.”

“What’s happened?”

“I’ve left him.”

There’s a pause. “Okay.”

“I got home and he was passed out drunk, the toilet was a mess and it was like he wasn’t even home to see us. Our home is just a place he comes and passes out inside.”

“I’m sorry, kitten.”

“Then I spoke with Hetty and she showed me a picture of him from Copenhagen. Apparently, his teammates all dressed up in women’s clothes for the stag and they’ve all been proudly showing off photos to all and sundry. Joe happens to be in a WhatsApp group with one of Gage’s teammates. It just so happened Gage was captured in the photo… kissing a woman in the background.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so that’s where I’m at right now.”

“Did you have words? Or did you just leave?”

“I left.”

“I think that was best, Lizzy. I think he would’ve been ugly if he was still drunk.”

“That’s what I thought. Anyway, I’ll have to speak with him tomorrow, I suppose, once he’s sobered up. I’ll leave Rupert with my mother and confront him. I’m going to ask for a divorce.”

“If that’s what you want, you’ve every right to ask him for that.”

“It’s not a recent thing, Sam. I left him before. This time, there’s too much against us. I can’t stay with him. All he ever does is make me feel shit about myself. I feel shit about every single aspect of my life because he makes me feel like an utter failure.”

Sam sighs down the phone. I hear someone knock on his office door and he covers the receiver, shouting, “I’m on the phone with a client, give me ten minutes.” There’s quiet and then he says, “Liza, I wish I was there right now. I’d just hold you and tell you it’s going to be all right.”

“I know.” I wish for that so much, I really, really do.

“I’m not going to tell a soul about us. Are you?”

“I told Hetty. She’s probably told Joe. But they won’t say anything to anyone. Besides, I didn’t even tell her your name.”

“Okay, well try to say as little as possible. You don’t want to give Gage any ammunition. You have every right to remain in the marital home and kick him out. You deserve a home for you and the kids.”

“I know, but Sam, a part of me just wants a clean break. I just want to start fresh and look after my own family. I don’t want any part of his world anymore.” I wipe my nose on my sleeve and he must hear me crying, because he says, “Oh, Liza.”

“Sam, I’m just glad to hear your voice.”

“I’ve got to go. Will you send me one of your famous emails… when you get time? I’ll look forward to it so much.”

“Yes, yes, if you like.”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot. You’re always in my thoughts.”

“And you’re in mine.”

“Speak to you soon?”

My chest heaves with longing. “Yes, of course.”

“I love you,” he says, hanging up before I can compromise myself.