maybe, as Phoebe would say, she was ‘airing’ me.
Eventually Patrick climbed into bed beside me. ‘What a night.’
I grunted in agreement, vacillating between continuing my Berlin Wall protest by remaining resolutely on my side of the bed and snuggling in for a crumb of comfort that might quash the anxiety swamping my body.
‘Do you think Phoebe needs counselling?’ This from a man who wouldn’t go to the doctor unless his leg was hanging off.
‘Probably. But how the hell are we going to get her there? I can’t get her to have a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast.’ I pushed my head back into the pillow. ‘Maybe we could do, I don’t know, family therapy?’
I was relieved to hear Patrick make a groan of horror. I wasn’t bursting to sit in front of a stranger and lay out our stall of mistakes. However, if that’s what it took to get our daughter back, then I wasn’t going to discount anything.
Patrick sighed. ‘I don’t know. I wish I had some answers. Let’s look into it if things don’t improve.’
His hand reached for mine. I held onto him, savouring the reassurance in his grip. I hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The next morning, I had approximately one second before the realisation dawned again that my ship was sinking, followed by flying out of bed to find a lifebelt, in this case, a text from Faye.
Wow! You kept that one quiet! Let’s try and grab a coffee at rugby and you can tell me about it. Secret is safe with me :) Hope you’re okay though xx
I stared at my phone. Sent at 7 a.m. this morning. Lee had been away the night before and Georgia was all over the place, so hopefully she hadn’t said anything to anyone yet.
I texted her back.
Thank you. I knew you wouldn’t let me down. See you later xx
I hadn’t known she wouldn’t let me down. She’d gone from being the person I relied on to the one who at a stroke could destroy us.
I showered, trying to come up with a plan. Patrick would be furious that I’d told Faye before the kids. I was furious with myself. And then, in a complexity of matrimonial anger ping-pong, I was utterly pissed off that he’d put me in this position in the first place. And that Ginny had.
As I spread that thought out on my truth table, I knew I’d never have believed I wasn’t second best, convinced that he was just trying it on with me because Ginny had rejected him. I was pretty sure that had I known, I would never have accepted that he truly loved and wanted me, stupid me who at forty-eight still blushed when I bumped into people I knew in the street. Patrick thought it was cute. Phoebe thought it was pathetic.
I’d never have married him and never had Phoebe.
What was in Ginny’s head? Why didn’t she phone him as soon as she knew she was pregnant? Was the ‘married Canadian’ complete bullshit? I tried not to wonder if Patrick had known Victor was his from the beginning whether he might have swerved the marriage to me in favour of a far more adventurous life with Ginny, with her great talent for getting the party started.
By the time I’d got dressed, I was no further forward, just more filled with dread.
Patrick was already downstairs in the kitchen with Victor, flicking through the papers in a companionable silence. Right behind me, Phoebe appeared in a nightie that was so short, Patrick and I competed in a tie break for ‘Go and put your dressing gown on,’ which she did with so much fuss I wasn’t sure what would have made Victor feel more uncomfortable, Phoebe’s arse cheeks hanging out near his toast or the unmissable implication that his presence was inconveniencing her liberal vibe.
Finally we were all ready to leave for rugby. Just as we were walking out to the car, Mum came up the drive. ‘There! Just caught you. Haven’t seen you for ages.’
Ages being a week or so, but it still drilled into my parent guilt.
Patrick gestured to Victor. ‘We’re just off to rugby.’
‘Mind if I join you?’
I was itching to speak to Faye so I did mind. Hugely.
But Patrick welcomed her, trained as he was by me to include my mother without making a fuss. ‘No problem. Are you going to be warm enough? It gets very cold on the field.’
I nodded vigorously. ‘It really does. It’s