and kissing the top of her head. It had been months since they’d made love – way before Noah had been born. At first it was impractical – Eleanor had still been in pain from the birth and bleeding heavily – but she’d neglected to mention that the doctor had given her the all-clear to resume their sex life nearly four weeks ago. She’d been so exhausted, her breasts heavy and engorged and her mummy tummy permanently encased in unflattering underwear the same size as some of the outfits she used to wear that it just hadn’t been top of her list. Okay, it hadn’t even been on her list. He’d been patient, not pushing her until she gave him the signal, but now, in the early hours of the morning, suddenly it seemed crucial to her that they made love. She slid a warm hand inside the pyjama bottoms he’d taken to wearing and slowly began to rub him, laying a kiss gently on his collarbone. She felt his body respond and all at once felt nervous and excited, as though it was their first time. Then, firmly but tenderly, Adam laid a hand on hers and held it still.
‘Not tonight, babe, I’m shattered.’
The shock of the rejection was crushing. She couldn’t remember a time in their entire relationship – no matter how tired they’d been or however angrily they’d fought – when her husband had refused sex. Tears of shame burned in her eyes and she thanked God Adam couldn’t see her in the darkness. She pulled her hand away as though it burned and nodded slightly.
‘Of course. Get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Okay, love.’ Oblivious to her hurt, he kissed her head again and turned over to sleep. ‘Goodnight.’
She tried to reply, but the words caught in her throat and she screwed her eyes closed. Before long she heard the rhythmic sounds of Adam’s sleep as she lay awake in the darkness.
27
My entire body felt as though it were alive with a thousand unseen insects, and I raked my fingernails up and down my arms to stave off the itching feeling. I couldn’t just sit there wondering what they were doing, the words rolling over and over in my head – Why can’t they see? Why couldn’t they see the danger they were in? Why were they all so short-sighted?
And if they did – no, when they did – what would happen then? What would I do? I hadn’t really thought that far ahead; I didn’t want to waste time ruminating on the consequences my actions might have. Consequences couldn’t always be controlled, and my mind didn’t – couldn’t be allowed to – dwell on things beyond my control.
I’d paced so much my calves hurt from the tension that held my body rigid and alert. Waiting like a coiled spring for something to happen, a trigger, a release. An image of a snake hidden in the long grass flitted across my mind, and I quickly replaced it with an image of them laughing, clinking their glasses together as they celebrated all the minor inconveniences in their lives. They could do this, you see, because the things they lamented week in, week out weren’t real troubles. They were minor irritants, fabricated to raise a smile from one another, or spoken out loud to remind themselves how blessed they were to only have these tiny, insignificant worries. They knew nothing of pain and heartbreak, or the kind of demons real people had. Their whole lives were sugar-coated versions of those led by the less fortunate.
And yet as much as I wanted to hold a mirror up to their I Love Lucy existence, a part of me still wanted to protect and preserve it. I craved it like nothing on earth, a life in which I could switch off the minute the children were in bed and fold myself into the arms of a husband who was really mine and lose myself in Celebrity Big Brother or The Great British Bake Off. I longed to pick up the phone and share my petty fears and minor inconveniences with people who had nothing more in their lives than a boss who was a bit of a prick. I desperately wanted my only worry to be forgetting to buy milk or having to change a million shitty nappies from my perfect child in my perfect home. I didn’t want the fetid poison that ran through my veins to