I get up from my bench and get going, heading for Liverpool Street, deciding to walk south down Bishopsgate towards the river, retracing old steps as I go.
Kate and I used to walk this way on our way home from clubbing. One of the unexpected sorrows about what’s happened is that almost all of my best memories of my twenties and thirties are now ruined. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to salvage anything from the wreckage, or if I’ll ever be able to think of Kate without feeling such a mix of feelings: betrayal and loss, love and hate, anger and sadness. And yet, still, fondness.
On London Bridge I stop and, ignoring the streams of pedestrians and thundering buses, I stare down into the churning brown sewage-coloured water. I think of Kate. Of course I do. I will always think of Kate whenever I see water.
‘I hope you’re at peace,’ I whisper under my breath.
Just as I turn to leave a yellow butterfly lands on my purple scarf. I watch it spread its translucent gold wings, flutter them a few times, and then take off, twisting in the wind like an autumn leaf falling from a tree.
‘Goodbye, Kate,’ I whisper, imagining it’s her come to say a final farewell.
As I watch it disappear I feel a strange lightening, as though the vice of grief that’s been gripping me around the rib cage has been loosened a notch. Perhaps that’s how it will happen, a gradual loosening until finally I can breathe freely again.
Chapter Forty-Two
‘Hey.’
I turn around. It’s Rob, walking along the bridge towards me. He crouches down to kiss Marlow’s cheek and stroke her flyaway brown curls. She’s fast asleep still, clutching her blankie in her fist.
‘I’m sorry I’m late,’ Rob says as he straightens up. He looks sheepish and overly eager to please, as he has done ever since I found out about him and Kate. ‘How are you?’ he asks, nodding to the scarf hiding my bruises.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, deciding not to mention the video of Kate’s death, not now at least. ‘How are you?’ I ask.
He swallows, as though there’s a hard, spiky lump caught in his throat. His eyes glint with tears. ‘You know …’ he says, forcing a wobbly smile.
My mum thinks I should take Rob back. I laughed when she suggested it. I asked him to leave as soon as I got back and he did, moving into his parents’ place. I think he’s holding out hope that I’ll change my mind but I’m going ahead with the divorce. I’ve already met with a lawyer, one recommended to me by Toby.
Perhaps one day I’ll be able to forgive Rob, but even if I do I’ll never be able to trust him again. From now on, it’s Marlow and me, and even though my life feels ruptured, as though I’ve had my internal organs rearranged and now some are missing, it also feels like I’ve survived the worst, so I know I’ll survive this too. I’m determined to move on and, aware of how life can be short, I’m also trying to follow Konstandin’s advice and live it well.
‘Well, I better be going,’ I say, looking down at Marlow. I’ve agreed to let him have her overnight, until we work out a more formal custody arrangement with the lawyers. But now my heart breaks at the idea of handing her over. I was so desperate to get back to her, so happy to hold her in my arms again, that I vowed I’d never let her go out of my sight ever again. And here I am handing her over. It’s just to her father, I remind myself. And I’m not going out of the country. I doubt I ever will again.
I hand Rob a bag filled with snacks, and some clothes and nappies, as well as some extra toys because I don’t think he has much at his parents’ house. I stop myself from giving him a list of the things she can and can’t eat. One of the things to come out of all this is that I’ve learned to let go of the little things.
‘I’m sorry,’ Rob mumbles, staring down at his feet as he takes the bag from me.
He’s said sorry a thousand times but I don’t know what to do with his apologies. Well, I do know what I want to do with them: I want to take them and shove them up his arse