lived by. They should not just abandon their husbands. They should forgive and forget and maybe encourage the man into a hobby that took him out of the house, preferably every evening and weekend.
“How’s Dad?” I asked, interrupting my mother’s prophecy that Josh would end up on the streets, a drug addict, unemployed: helpless and hopeless because I’d walked out on his father. She hadn’t asked how I was or even where I was. This was her problem, not mine.
“He’s devastated,” she said. She started to cry again. “We both are. I don’t know how you could do this to us.”
In the background I could hear my dad asking where all the chocolate biscuits had gone to. Like me, he was clearly finding food a comfort in his hour of need.
“At least we’ll be spared the shame for a while,” my mother continued. “Your sister’s invited us to stay. We’re leaving next week, on Monday. ‘Get an open return,’ she said. ‘Stay as long as you like.’”
My sister, Fiona, lived in Australia now. That invitation must have been ripped out of her. I knew she would have told them to get an open ticket because she wanted the chance to tell our mother to leave at a moment’s notice.
“Mum, would you mind if I stayed at your house while you’re away? I could look after your plants and keep the house safe.”
“Keep the house safe! I couldn’t trust you with a key. Not after what happened last time.”
“Last time” was twenty years ago when I’d been mugged in broad daylight and their house keys were in my purse.
“It would make things so much easier for me.” I thought of looking for a flat, of spending money I didn’t have. I didn’t feel particularly at home at my parents’ house now, but it would be a lot better than a rental. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“No, you won’t,” she said. “We’ll lock up ourselves, thank you. We might be away months. I know Fiona misses us. And anyway, what would I tell the neighbors?”
“What’s it got to do with them?”
“Well, I wouldn’t want you bumping into Mrs. Jennings. Telling her all your business. None of hers have given her any trouble. And here you are, about to be divorced and not even any children to show for it.”
Tears stung my eyes then, as she surely knew they would, at the thought of those nights I’d spent each month, hoping and praying that I’d get pregnant. She knew about that; I’d been stupid enough to confide in her. She’d told me that some women weren’t made to be mothers. It had taken a long time to forgive that.
“I have to go,” I said.
She started to remonstrate but I pressed the End button and, as if by magic, she disappeared.
Later when I’d calmed down, a message came through from my dad.
I’m sorry, pet. You know what your mum’s like x
I did, and I knew what he was like, too. I loved him, but he let her get away with such bad behavior. He pacified her, as though his role in life was to smooth things over when she rode roughshod over other people. It had taken me so long to realize that I was like him. I didn’t reply to my dad’s message. I didn’t know what to say to him.
Just as I was getting ready for bed another message came through. It was Tom.
Hope you’re feeling OK now. Don’t let her get you down x
And despite everything, for a moment I was comforted. Tom was the only person who knew what my mum was really like. She put on a convincing act for my friends who’d met her and I’d never said anything different to them, knowing they’d believe what they saw firsthand rather than what they heard from me. Though I’d talked to Harry about her, he didn’t know her, had never seen the look of frustration and hurt on my face when I was with her.
I looked at my watch. It was after eleven o’clock. I thought of Tom in our bed, lying on