11
‘Fi’s Story’ > 00:42:57
I haven’t said much about the boys, I know. I suppose I’ve been hoping I could keep them out of this. The thing is, I haven’t even broken the news to them yet about the house. My latest lie is that it’s been flooded after all the rain we’ve had, but I can’t expect to fob them off for much longer, especially once this is released and people start talking. Primary schools have grapevines too, pruned with dedication by the parents at the gate, which I’ve avoided since Bram disappeared. (Mum has been doing the school run.) I’ve avoided Alder Rise altogether.
Their names are Leo and Harry and they are eighteen months apart. Leo has just turned nine and Harry will be eight in July. They both have Bram’s dark unruly hair and pale gentle mouth and we all think they’ll have his height too. Being so close in age, Harry follows in Leo’s footsteps even while the prints are fresh. Harry’s Year Three teacher was Leo’s the year before; at swimming lessons, Leo moved from Dolphins to Stingrays the term Harry entered Dolphins. On paper, they look to be taking identical paths.
But they are utterly different in character.
Harry is bold. He makes eye contact with adults and his voice is a foghorn with a single setting. It’s a point of principle to him that he doesn’t seek consolation or comfort. He’ll injure himself, slip down wet steps or crash-land from the magnolia, and he’ll look for the exit through his tears, grimly resisting the outstretched arms, the offers of comfort.
Leo is the crier, the cuddler, the obliger. Inevitable, then, that I sometimes think my bond with him is stronger. He had quite bad allergies as an infant as well, which led to a couple of A & E visits before the right medication was prescribed. We still keep it to hand, in case of a flare-up.
I discussed the new living arrangements with him as we unloaded the dishwasher together. Harry claimed table laying as his chore, but the dishwasher was Leo’s department.
‘What do you think of our new plan?’ I asked him.
‘It’s okay.’
‘You understand how it’s going to work?’
‘Mmm, I think.’
‘Things aren’t going to be that different. We’ll all still live here, it’s just that Dad and I will take it in turns.’
How important was it to see your parents together? If we hadn’t announced it semi-formally as we had, how long before the boys noticed of their own accord that we were never in the same place at the same time? It was possible it might have been some time.
‘Do you have any questions for me?’ I saw him think, looking down at the last of the clean utensils in his hands. He was not the questioner, Harry was the questioner. Leo was the accepter. ‘Anything?’ I prompted. ‘Anything that doesn’t make sense?’
I could see him trying to summon something as he gazed down at his fistful of cutlery. Perhaps he just wanted to please me. I had no idea if he thought of me as being a victim to be supported or as an instigator to be resented. Neither, perhaps.
At last his face cleared. ‘Why do we have so many spoons?’ he said.
He was so happy when I burst out laughing.
Oh, Leo. My Leo. I pray he hasn’t been permanently scarred by all of this, though it’s hard to imagine how he hasn’t.
Bram, Word document
Bless his heart, Harry cried his eyes out when I talked to him about the new set-up and he never cries. He’s the family Stoic.
‘Are you and Mummy still married?’
‘Yes, absolutely. For now.’
‘Then why won’t you be in the house together?’
‘It’s a peace process, mate. We will be in the house together, just not long enough to argue. Because arguing’s not very nice for anyone, especially you and Leo.’
‘Will we still go on holiday together?’
‘Probably not for a while. We won’t have as much spare cash.’
‘Mum said we can still go to Theo’s house in Kent at half term. We always do that.’
‘Well, there you go.’
Theo was Rog and Alison’s kid. It was inevitable, I supposed, that Team Fi was assembling, the women, the mothers, closing ranks around her.
‘Will you get a new wife?’ Harry asked. ‘Will she move into the house as well?’
‘Certainly not,’ I said. ‘Mummy’s my wife. We’re not getting divorced.’
I should have said ‘yet’ out loud rather than just mouthing it when he’d already looked away. It was wrong to give him hope, but I couldn’t help it, because I was already suspecting that it was my hope too.
Which, if it’s true, may prompt you to ask why I destroyed my marriage in the first place. I suppose because I didn’t know how much I wanted it until after I’d destroyed it. I suppose I must have had a death wish.
Hence the suicide note.