Page 15 of The Mistake
‘You’ve never been?’ Vanessa’s mouth drops open. ‘You didn’t ever stop off on your way to visit your mum and dad? I thought it was the law that if you travelled to Oz, you had to stop off in Thailand on the way.’ She lets out a peal of laughter and Pete finds himself smiling. ‘I spent last Christmas there.’
‘In Thailand?’
‘Yep.’ Vanessa nods. ‘Karon Beach. Sun, sea and some of the most incredible sights I’ve ever seen. I loved it even more than Vietnam and Singapore. I’m headed to Santorini for two weeks at the beginning of September, and I’ll probably try and get away again for Christmas.’ She eyes him with a smirk. ‘Somewhere hot. I’ve always fancied seeing the Sydney Opera House, unless you can give me any recommendations?’
‘All I can recommend is Dad’s barbecue skills. And you need to get the iconic photo for your Instagram.’Is she flirting with me? Am I flirting back?Pete feels a pang of guilt as he realises he’s actually enjoying himself. ‘So, Santorini … That’ll be a nice romantic getaway for you and the other half. I’ve always wanted to go.’
‘Other half?’ Vanessa pulls a face. ‘No, Pete, no other half. Flying solo, that’s me. Literally.’
‘Oh.’ Pete didn’t think he already knew this, but still he doesn’t feel shocked to learn Vanessa is single. ‘Sorry, I just assumed—’
‘I’m going with an old girlfriend from school – remember Sophie?’ Vanessa says, the air suddenly thick between them. ‘Then Christmas, I don’t know. I’ll probably decide nearer the time and do something alone.’
‘It all sounds incredibly glamorous and exciting,’ Pete says, draining his pint. He can’t deny the little flicker of envy that sparks at the thought of just packing up and going on an exotic holiday at the drop of a hat. Going away was a military operation before Erin was born – he dreads to think what their next trip away is going to be like.
Mirroring him, Vanessa finishes her wine, screwing up her face when she realises her glass is empty. ‘I love my life, I really do, but … it’s lonely sometimes. There’s only so many times you can go home to a cold, dark house and feel OK about it. It would be nice to have someone to share it all with.’ She glances up at him. ‘Someone who wants to travel and see the world, have adventures. I suppose I just haven’t met the right person yet.’
Vanessa pushes her empty glass away and slides her phone into her bag. The pub has emptied out, the site team moving on to somewhere more lively, and the bar staff are cleaning in an attempt to get them to leave. Pete signals to the waiter for the bill, refusing to let Vanessa go Dutch, even though she offers, and it seems to be the natural thing when they step onto the pavement outside for Pete to offer to walk Vanessa back to her flat. They chat idly as they walk over the bridge across the fast-flowing river running through the town, the street lights casting an orange glow ahead of them. Pete wonders how many times he’s walked Vanessa home in his life – too many to count – and it feels weirdly familiar as he glances down at her. As though he’s stepped back in time.
‘This is me,’ she says as they reach Montpellier Square and the imposing old building where Vanessa has an apartment. ‘Thanks for the wine.’
‘No problem.’ Pete shoves his hands in his pockets and glances towards town, to where he’s left his car. ‘Thanks for a nice evening.’
‘Pete?’
‘Yes?’ He turns back to where Vanessa stands on the doorstep, the door open behind her.
‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’
Pete pauses, his pulse increasing. He should go home, he knows that. But it’s almost eleven o’clock and the kids will be in bed. Natalie will be curled up with her back to him, her breathing deep and even in that way he can tell means she’ll be pretending to be asleep, and Vanessa’s words come back to him.There’s only so many times you can go home to a cold, dark house and feel OK about it.
‘Uh, sure, OK. Just a quick one.’ And he steps inside, the door to Vanessa’s flat closing tightly behind him.
Natalie
Natalie understands why some women do a moonlight flit, she thinks, trying to ignore Erin as she screams from her cot. She wonders what would happen if she drove her car to Beachy Head and left her phone and wallet on the cliff edge before vanishing into the ether. Would that eventually make Erin stop crying? Would anyone in this house even notice? The mountain of laundry on the bed in front of her doesn’t seem to be getting any smaller as she sorts and folds, Erin’s cries scraping over her skin like nails on a chalkboard. After folding Zadie’s T-shirts into Emily’s pile for the third time, Natalie throws the laundry onto the bed and moves to the cot, gripping the rails until her knuckles turn white.
‘Stop. Please, stop,’ she hisses through gritted teeth as Erin cries on and on, kicking her legs furiously. ‘What do you want? I’ve doneeverything.’ Natalie has been awake since five o’clock, after getting up three times in the night to Erin. She’s fed her, burped her, changed her nappy and even tried bathing her in an attempt to calm her down but still, every time Natalie thinks she might have dropped off, she starts to grizzle again. Natalie doesn’t even want to have the windows open now, despite the warmth of the day, worrying about what the neighbours might think of the incessant crying. She leans down and picks Erin up again, laying her on the changing mat to check her nappy for the third time and rub some baby Bonjela on her gums.
Saturdays never used to be like this, Natalie thinks, as she picks Erin up and begins to pace the bedroom, jiggling her in her arms. Before, when they were still at uni, Natalie always looked forward to Saturday. She and Pete would wake late in the morning, both of them fuzzy-headed from the night before. They’d sleep in, havelazy hangover sex, stop at the café for a fry-up, and then head back into town in the early evening to meet friends for cheap cocktails and a kebab on the way home. Now, Zadie is at a friend’s house for a sleepover (please, God, she doesn’t wet the bed there), Pete is – surprise, surprise – at work, and Emily is out with Jake at the cinema, even though, once again, Natalie had found herself pressing the importance of Emily’s looming exams on her. Emily has assured Natalie she is prepared for her exam on Monday, and to be honest, today Natalie just couldn’t find the energy for yet another row over it all.
‘So, it’s not OK for me to go out on a date with my boyfriend, because I’m meant to be studying,’ Emily had thrown the words at Natalie earlier this morning, ‘but it’s OK for me to spend hours walking Erin around town in her pram so you can have a bit of peace? Yeah, that’s fair, isn’t it?’
Natalie had felt sick at the words, knowing deep down that Emily had a point. Sometimes she did ask Emily to take Zadie out to play in the woods, or to walk Erin around town just so Natalie could have half an hour to get on top of things – to feel as though she wasn’t about to lose her mind. So, instead of another argument, she had just sighed and nodded, flinching when the door slammed closed behind Emily.
Erin continues to cry – an angry shriek that Natalie swears could be used as a torture device – and she flips her over, dangling the baby along one arm on her stomach. Tiger in a tree, Natalie thinks it’s called. The sure-fire pose to get a baby off to sleep, whether they’re windy, colicky or just plain tired: that’s what she’s read. But still, Erin doesn’t stop, and Natalie jiggles her harder. Where the fuck is Pete? She honestly can’t believe that anything at work could be more important than spending time at home. He’s never here lately, that bloody construction site taking up every minute of his day. Pete has always had a good work ethic – it’s one of the things she loves about him – but just lately she never sees him. He used to come home late once or twice a week,maybe, but never later than seven o’clock, and even then he’d still sneak up and make sure he tucked Zadie in. Recently, though, he’s been coming home long after she’s gone to sleep (for that brief respite Erin allows her between ten and midnight), three or four times a week, and for the last two weeks, it’s been Saturday mornings, too.
Natalie can’t take it any more. Erin’s wails grow louder, and she feels it. That sickening, overwhelming urge to shake her. Just once. Just enough to stop the incessant noise for one moment. Her throat closing over, her stomach rolling, Natalie lays Erin in the cot with rather more force than she should and hurries from the bedroom, closing the door tightly behind her. She fumbles in her pocket for her phone and dials, feeling breathless with fear and disgust at herself.
‘Hello?’
‘Eve?’ Natalie can barely speak, the words snagging painfully in the back of her throat. ‘Eve, please can you come? I need you.’
Natalie sits at the bottom of the stairs, her head in her hands as Eve steps through the front door moments later. She must have run from her own house two streets away, cutting through the woods to get to Natalie this quickly. Overhead, muted cries come from the bedroom, furious and insistent.
‘Nat? Oh, God, Nat, what’s happened? Are you OK?’ Eve comes to crouch beside Natalie on the stairs as she raises her tear-stained face.
‘She won’t stop,’ she says blankly. ‘The baby. She just won’t stop crying, Eve. I’m at my wits’ end.’
