let him sell my home from under me.
Before he arrives, I look around the living room, trying to see it through his eyes. I haven’t had time to tidy up. I’ve been so worried about Charlie nearly being hit by a car yesterday. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but he won’t tell me anything. He’s sitting in the corner of the room playing with his toy trains, rolling them round the track one after another, completely immersed in his game.
While he’s occupied, I start clearing up, gathering up Charlie’s toys and putting them into the cupboard. Richard will be appalled by the mess, books and toys shoved to the side of the room in ever-expanding piles. But other than that, nothing really seems to have changed. A professional photo of the two of us staring blissfully into each other’s eyes still sits in pride of place on the side table, amongst all the other family photos. That won’t do. I go over to the side table and shove the picture into the drawer beneath. Amongst the other frames, there’s a windswept family photo of us on the beach on the South Coast, squinting and happy, cheeks tinged with sunburn. I ruthlessly sweep it off the table and put it in the drawer too. I rearrange the remaining images, but the table seems empty.
I look at the pictures that are left: me and Charlie in front of a country house, Charlie in his school uniform, him on his first birthday. And then it occurs to me. The person who’s missing. The most important person who’s been in my life, the man I still miss every day. Nick.
I dash upstairs and pull his photo out of my bedside drawer, staring into his intense eyes for a second before taking it downstairs and placing it with the others. I don’t need to hide him away anymore. I can acknowledge our love and remember all the good times we had together.
Charlie’s still playing happily. I stare at the picture. I remember how that smile was reserved just for me, how much we meant to each other. I think about how we planned to get married, have a family. He always seemed so much older than me, so much wiser, but when I look at the photo now he looks young. He must have been about the age I am now when it was taken. I have lived and he hasn’t. It seems so unfair.
When Richard lived here I used to wait until he was out before I secretly took out this photo. I’d talk to Nick about my relationship with Richard, tell him about Charlie, tell him what we were doing, what my life was like now. How I’d built it up again, that I was working as a counsellor. I know Nick would be proud of me. He always said he admired how much I wanted to help others.
The knock on the door startles me and Charlie runs to it, getting there first.
I open it and Charlie flies into Richard’s arms. ‘Daddy!’ he screams, wrapping his arms around him.
‘Richard,’ I say, and then stand awkwardly, unsure how to greet him.
‘Beth. Can I come in?’
I wince. It’s like he’s a stranger. ‘Of course,’ I say.
He follows me through to the living room, as Charlie talks to him excitedly about his day at school, telling him far more than I could get out of him. Richard asks all the right questions.
‘Do you want a drink?’
‘I’ll get myself a water.’ I watch as he goes to the kitchen and turns on the tap. It already feels odd seeing him here. I must have got used to him not being here, because now he seems out of place.
‘Why don’t you go to the other room and watch Paw Patrol?’ I say to Charlie.
‘I want to see Daddy!’ I think about yesterday, how he’d gone out onto the street to look for Richard. He must be desperate to see him.
‘You can see Daddy once he and I have had a little talk,’ I say to Charlie.
‘I want to play with Daddy… now!’
I sigh. ‘Why don’t I get you an apple juice? You can have it in the living room.’ Charlie brightens, as I fetch the drink and poke the straw through.
Richard looks at me and then turns back to our son. ‘Why don’t I come and turn the TV on for you? Then I’ll speak to your mum and I’ll be back to play with