Page 97 of The Last Train Home
‘It was only going to get worse,’ I say adamantly, thinking of how lonely I already was, and how much worse it would have been with a newborn and an unsupportive husband. But I have to keep reminding myself it wasn’t working, thatthere was a reason why I left. ‘That’s not the way marriage is supposed to be,isit?’
My mum and dad have been together for nearly forty years. They argue, sure. So it wasn’t as if I had a rose-tinted view of how marriage should be. But it wasn’t supposed to belike that, when it came to a baby obviously tearing Sean and me to pieces.
‘No,’ my dad says. ‘It’s not the way marriage is supposed to be. It’s give and take, push and pull; it’s love and … sometimes frustration; it’s support and care. But without a shadow of a doubt, it’s being there when the other person needs you.’
I nod. ‘Every now and again I’m going to need you to remind me of that,’ I say.
‘Why don’t you arrange to meet a couple of friends one day soon,’ my dad suggests.
I nod. ‘I might do.’
‘How about Tom?’ my mum offers. Dad keeps his eyes trained on me.
Tom. It’s taken so long, but now I can finally think about him without every part of me clenching in some low-level form of distress. ‘I’m not sure,’ I say. ‘It’s been quite a while. It might be a bolt out of the blue.’
‘You’ve not spoken to him at all since you went to Singapore?’ Mum asks.
I shake my head guiltily. I think of the way I ignored all his messages, his calls after that night in his kitchen. I think of the way I saw him on TV, losing his job so publicly, and I still didn’t message him.
‘Did you speak to him?’ I ask my dad, ‘after that classic-car thing you went to?’
‘No,’ he says, equally guiltily, although it was inadvertently my fault that they stopped speaking. ‘You seemed very upset that I was communicating with him, even though I only ran into him by accident, so I thought it best to leave it there.’
My mum cuts in. ‘Your dad fobbed Tom off, and they haven’t met since.’
I tut, but it’s myself I’m annoyed with. ‘You shouldn’t have had to do that. I put you in an awkward position.’
‘Tom didn’t question it,’ my dad soothes. ‘He replied with a fairly upbeat “No problem, some other time” or words to that effect.’
This pushes a barb straight into my heart. The man just oozes goodness. ‘Of course he did.’
My mum touches my arm. ‘There’s no pressure to see him if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure to see anyone.’
‘But then again,’ my dad says, reaching to pour us all a cup of tea from the warm pot, ‘if, in a week’s time, I find you lying about in front of the TV with no intention of ever leaving the house, we will obviously be staging an intervention.’
I look at my parents’ resolute expressions. ‘Noted.’
Chapter 62
Abbie
July 2010
‘Is now a good time to tell you I always thought Sean was a bit of a cock?’ Gary says.
‘Hmm, maybe,’ I reply, uncertain as to how much longer I might wish to continue this conversation. I’ve got the facts out of the way, but now it’s clearly time for Gary’s post-match analysis.
‘Quite up his own arse.’
‘Probably true,’ I say. It’s still painful talking about it. But given that I do actually want to see my friends this side of the apocalypse, I need to listen while they dispense their wisdom, even if it is a bit too late. And then once it’s done, with each friend in turn telling me exactly what they thought of Sean – getting it off their chests – we can move on. Today is Gary’s turn.
‘Although he was very liberal with his money. Got the first round in a few times, as I recall,’ Gary goes on, plumbing the depths of his memory.
‘Yes, he was very generous with his money.’ He still is. Another £10,000 has just landed in my account. Sean’s buyinghis way out of being part of a family that he once said he wanted.
‘Liberal with his cash, but not with his love?’ Gary suggests.
‘That’s very astute,’ I say. ‘It’s complicated. He loved me. But I’m not sure he loved …’ I point to my stomach, where my baby is squirming around, trying to shift position.
