Just Like the Other Girls - Claire Douglas Page 0,94
mother’s, you’re at the gallery. You pull away from me when I try to kiss you or hug you. I’m –’
‘You’re what?’ she snaps. ‘Because suddenly this is all about you. Don’t worry about the fact I’ve got so much on my plate I feel like I might explode. That I’m constantly worrying about Jacob or my mother or those bloody gold-diggers she employs. Or that the gallery isn’t making enough money. Or that I never get a minute, not a minute, to myself. And on top of that I’m supposed to be this perfect wife to you? But do you know what?’ Her voice has risen so much she’s worried she’ll wake the boys. ‘You’re just another thing demanding my time at the moment.’
He looks as though she’s punched him.
‘And instead of sitting there bitching to me about it, why don’t you get off your backside and actually help me? Why don’t you – Oh, I don’t know!’ She flings her arms out. ‘Cook a meal so that I don’t have to worry about it when I get home. Or put the washing on. Or even – here’s an idea – stack the dishwasher now and again.’
He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out and his lips hang there, like a wet fish.
‘That’s what I thought,’ she says, zipping up her skirt. ‘Can you at least make sure the boys eat properly today? And, no, that doesn’t mean taking them out to fucking McDonald’s.’ She’s so angry her heart is booming in her chest. She grabs her hairbrush from the dressing-table and slams out of the room.
She stands outside the bedroom door while her heart slows, hairbrush in hand. She shouldn’t have erupted at Ed like that. He tries his best and he’s put up with her leaving him with the kids every Saturday for the last two and a half years. She contemplates going back in to apologize but then she remembers the mess the kitchen was in when she got home from work last night and decides against it.
She wonders when her marriage started to become so … stale. Was it when Matilde arrived or before that? It wasn’t the boys. No, funnily enough when the boys were born it brought them closer together, cemented them as a family. She’d never felt so loved as she did when she held baby Jacob in her arms and he’d look up at her with his big brown trusting eyes or grab hold of her hair with his little fist. It was hard, especially when she discovered Elspeth would be no help, but she’d felt Jacob, Ed and her were a team, a little family unit. For the first time in her life she felt like she belonged. Properly belonged. Not a cuckoo but a mother, the most important role she’ll ever have in life. And later, when Harry was born, he slotted perfectly into their lives, the cherry on top of her lovely big cake. Was there a tiny little part of her that had wanted a girl? Perhaps, but she was happy with her boys even if it was obvious her mother wasn’t.
Kathryn pulls up outside Elspeth’s house and tries to swallow the guilt and hurt she feels at leaving her boys again at the weekend just so she can play her role as dutiful daughter. Would she be doing all this if she didn’t desperately need the inheritance? Ed is on a decent wage, yet they still find it hard to make ends meet, with a large mortgage and credit-card debts. And even though her mother pays the school fees the extras all fall to Kathryn: the ridiculously expensive uniform and the foreign trips. And she hasn’t taken a wage from the gallery in months because it’s making a loss, which she’s going to have to admit to her mother now she wants to see the books. Another thing that will be Kathryn’s fault, no doubt.
It’s a crisp spring morning, and despite the blue sky, there’s a cold breeze in the air. It’s only seven. She’s running late, thanks to her argument with Ed. On the days she doesn’t stay over, her mother likes her to arrive at six thirty as that’s when she gets up. She stands in front of the house with her overnight bag and her heart sinks. She’d rather be in bed next to Ed’s warm, reassuring body. She hasn’t had a lie-in for as long as she can remember.