Page 36 of The Mistake
Her reflection in the mirror is puffy and pasty, her skin dry in some patches, oily in others, her make-up sweated off in the stress of trying to hold herself together throughout the party. Her hair, escaping from the messy bun she tied it in, is greasy at the scalp, in desperate need of a wash, while the ends are dry and brittle, split ends making it frizzy and unmanageable. Natalie hasn’t had a haircut since just before Erin was born eight months ago, hasn’t had her highlights done for even longer. No wonder Pete looked elsewhere, she thinks. She’s a different woman from the one who sat across from him and told him they were going to have another baby. At the thought of that night, fresh tears spring to her eyes. While Natalie knew Pete would be resistant to the idea of another baby initially, she honestly thought it would be different from how the past few months have turned out.
Natalie had thought when she made the decision to go ahead with the pregnancy that Erin would be like Emily and Zadie – both easy, happy babies. There had been teething problems with Emily, of course. Natalie was barely more than a child herself when she was born, and she often felt as though she was winging her way through bringing her up, but Emily was placid and slept well, and Natalie had often wondered why some mothers complained all the time. Zadie had been the same, and as Emily was almost ten when Zadie was born it had all felt rather easy.Natalie had been back at work six months after Zadie’s birth, and Zadie was at a brilliant nursery she’d found, so Natalie never really felt as though she’d had to sacrifice anything for her. Erin, though … Natalie sighs. Erin was difficult before she was even born, keeping Natalie up all night with heartburn and needing to wee every hour, it felt like. And then the birth … Remembering the fear and panic of that day, and the trauma of the days that followed, is enough to make Natalie’s pulse triple.
Maybe that was when she should have realised nothing was ever going to be the same. Pete wasn’t around a lot in the early days with Emily, as he worked day and night at a construction consultancy firm, and then when Zadie was born Pete had already gone freelance and was in the process of setting up his own company. Natalie hadn’t felt any resentment towards him because she knew he was doing it all for them. This time, though, she should have known when Pete took that phone call in the hospital room, leaving her alone and in pain, that things were already different.
‘You stupid, stupid woman,’ Natalie whispers at her own washed-out reflection. ‘Client dinners? And how many times can a drainage run get blocked?’ She should have known. Although now she’s being truly honest with herself about things, didn’t a part of her enjoy the fact that Pete wasn’t around? Yes, she struggled with Erin – the child never sleeps, and God knows if there’s one thing Natalie needs, it’s sleep – and she could have done with Pete’s help, but she’s not convinced he would have even been that much help. Look at how he is with Zadie – he never wants to discipline her; instead he just tuts at her and tips her upside down on the sofa until she laughs. No, the truth is that a tiny part of Natalie enjoyed not having Pete at home. She liked the brief hour or two when Erin did settle for the night, when she could watch reality TV without Pete’s judgement, without having to make conversation when all she wanted to do was stare blankly at the flickering screen in front of her. She often felt a wave ofrelief at getting into bed before he came home, making sure her breathing was deep and even when she heard the front door open, so he wouldn’t slide his hands under the baggy T-shirts she’s taken to sleeping in, pressing himself against her back in that insistent way he has.
Maybe it’s my fault.Can she blame Pete for looking elsewhere when she did turn her back on him? They haven’t slept together since before Erin was born, Natalie afraid of hurting her hysterectomy scar at first, and then just full of bottled-up resentment towards him, so much so that every time she thought about sleeping with him, it felt like some sort of reward, one Pete didn’t deserve. God, what a mess. A horrible, heartbreaking mess.
Natalie opens the door of the bathroom cabinet, intent on pulling out make-up wipes to fix her face before going back to the party for the final hour or so, telling herself she’s faked it all day, she can fake it for a tiny bit longer, when the white box of diazepam catches her eye. It’s still hidden behind the tampons, still unopened, but now she gently eases it out and tugs out a blister packet.Maybe Eve is right. Maybe I do need a little bit of help.
Natalie has always been resistant to the idea of medication, an idea that seems a little outdated now that mental health isn’t something to be hidden or kept secret, but growing up in a household where her mother popped a pill for every ailment (even those that didn’t exist) pressed Natalie into avoiding even paracetamol if she could. Now, though, she understands. The thought of having to go back to the party, knowing Pete lied to her, knowing Eve betrayed her, knowing Emily hates her, is almost too much to bear. She can’t do it without a little bit of help, something to blur the edges a little so it doesn’t feel so painful. Pressing against the foil, she pops two pills into her hand. The box says take one, and she falters for a moment before filling the small water glass on the side of the sink and throwing back both of the pills with a slug of lukewarm tap water. Almost immediately she feels better.She can do this. Moving silently across the carpet, Natalie perches on the end of the bed, on Pete’s side, listening out for any noise from the adjoining bedroom where Erin sleeps. There is only silence, and Natalie lets out a long breath.Just ten minutes, that’s all I need. Just ten minutes to let the pills kick in and then she’ll go back down the stairs, back to the party. Natalie shuffles round, so her head rests on Pete’s pillow, smelling the faint scent of Tom Ford Ombre Leather emanating from the pillowcase. She loves that aftershave; she buys it for him every Christmas. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to smell it again without thinking of today, of this party. Flipping over the pillow, Natalie closes her eyes, feeling as though her limbs are melting into the mattress. She thinks about Pete and Vanessa, wonders if Pete really will leave her and go and shack up in that fancy flat in Montpellier Square. She finds the idea isn’t as devastating or as terrifying as it was a short while ago, her emotions dulled and pleasantly numb. If she’d known the pills were going to make her feel like this, she would have taken them a lot sooner. The last thought she has before oblivion creeps in, darkening the corners of her mind, is about Pete. If they could turn back the clock, would Pete want to get rid of the baby? If she’d told him when she first saw those two pink lines on the test, her heart turning over in her chest, does she think Pete would have tried his hardest to make her change her mind?Maybe. Maybe if she had the time again, she would change her mind herself. All she can think right now is that she would do anything to fix things, to have things go back to the way they were before.
Pete
As Pete inhales and lights his third cigarette, he feels nauseous, remembering why he thought he should give it up in the first place. He stinks now; he can smell the cigarette smoke on his own clothes and hands, and he feels a wave of self-loathing. He knows he should return to the party – between the confrontation with Vanessa, his hissed argument with Eve, and now the bomb that has been dropped on Natalie, he knows he’s been too absent, and that people will begin to notice he’s not around. That could be a metaphor for his entire life at the moment, Pete thinks, but still he doesn’t move from the shelter of the treeline at the edge of the woods, not quite ready to return and put on a fake smile and exude false joviality.
He’s not sure how long he stands there, cigarette smoke hanging in the air as raindrops from the earlier storm drip from the summer leaves onto the mulchy floor below, long enough for his back to begin to ache and his hands to get cold.
‘Dad?’ Pete’s ears prick up at the faint call of his name. It’s Emily’s voice, and the impatient tone tells him this isn’t the first time she’s called out to him. ‘Dad!’
Stifling a sigh, Pete swipes the cigarette over the fence post and collects his butts, before reaching over to unlatch the bolt and slipping back into the garden. As he stuffs the cigarette butts deep into the compost bin (hiding the evidence, he thinks) Emily is still calling him, but he can’t see her as he emerges from between the apple trees.
‘There you are!’ Stu appears beside him, clapping him on the back so hard he almost winds Pete. Stu is clearly a little worse for wear, his eyes slightly bloodshot and sleepy in a way that weirdlyreminds Pete of Bagpuss, that old cat that used to be on the telly. ‘Where the hell have you been, bro? I’ve hardly seen you all night.’
‘Oh, you know what it’s like,’ Pete says, his stomach clenching. ‘It’s like a wedding – when it’s your own, you never get to see half the people you want to.’
‘I still can’t believe Vanessa was here,’ Stu says. ‘Even more than that, I can’t believe Natalie was OK with you inviting her – Mari would have had my guts for garters.’ Stu lets out a roar of laughter as Pete tries on a smile that wobbles across his face.
‘I thought I heard Emily calling me?’ Pete changes the subject, not wanting to talk about Vanessa. Not now. Not ever.
‘Oh, yeah.’ Stu looks surprised, and Pete realises he’s had even more to drink than he’d first thought. Stu has always been a bit crap at holding his drink, and Pete wouldn’t be surprised if Mari carts him off home soon. ‘Mari was talking to Emily, she said something about the cake.’
‘Is Natalie not about?’ Pete scans the guests, but there is no sign of his wife.
‘Not seen her. Emily was calling for her, too.’ Stu nudges him with a sly wink. ‘Nipped off for a quickie, did you? I wish Mari was still that adventurous.’
Pete feels suddenly nauseous again, and it’s got nothing to do with the dose of nicotine he’s just inflicted on his body. ‘I had better go and see what Em needs.’ Clapping Stu on the shoulder, he heads for the kitchen, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees Emily at the kitchen worktop, rummaging in one of the drawers.
‘Did you call me?’
Emily whips her head around, her eyes narrowing. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for ages.’ Before he can come up with a valid excuse which is not ‘fighting with your mum’ or ‘smoking so many cigarettes I want to puke’, Emily carries on. ‘Mari said people are starting to make noises about leaving, and we should probably cut the cake. I can’t find a lighter for the candles and I don’t know where Mum is.’
Pete hadn’t realised how late it was. The sun is below the treeline now and the garden has taken on a distinctly gloomy air, the first prickle of stars beginning to stud the sky. ‘This is the perfect time to do the cake,’ he says. ‘How is anyone going to see the candles in broad daylight?’ Overwhelmed by a surge of affection, he pulls Emily towards him, kissing the top of her head. ‘Sorry about earlier. For my crappy speech and for arguing with Jake.’
Emily scowls up at him, but she doesn’t pull away. ‘Go and find Mum, will you? We can’t do the cake without her. And you stink of fags.’
Pete gives Emily one last squeeze and reaches into his pocket to toss her the lighter. ‘Don’t tell Mum.’ He is about to step away into the hallway to go in search of Natalie when a shadow falls across the doorway.
‘Mum.’ Emily looks up. ‘We need to do the cake before people start to leave.’
Natalie nods and moves slowly to the kitchen drawer, pulling it open and rifling through the old takeaway menus and bunches of keys; no one knows what they unlock any more. ‘We need a lighter.’ Her voice is thick and oddly blurry.
‘We’ve got one,’ Pete says, a flutter of nerves rippling in his belly. He’s almost afraid to look at Natalie in case she says something about Vanessa and what he’s done in front of Emily.
‘Oh.’ Natalie blinks, and Pete moves across the kitchen and lifts the heavy cake. The three of them step across the garden, Emily’s voice ringing out above the music as she tells everyone it’s time to cut the cake. Stu reaches out and lowers the volume on the speaker, and as Pete places the cake on the table, he can’t help but notice that Natalie seems a little unsteady on her feet. Where did she go after she hurried away from him? He knows it’s a party, but has she been drinking? Pete saw her with a glass of wine earlier, but unless she’s been knocking it back secretly, he doesn’t think she’s had enough to get plastered.
There are exclamations as people drift over to the table and spythe cake. It’s an extravagant three-tier affair with stars exploding out of the top, Emily’s name written in intricate swirly icing across the cake board. Natalie would usually make the kids’ birthday cakes, but for obvious reasons this year it was never going to happen. Emily had asked Pete for his bank card and ordered her own cake, and now Pete thinks perhaps he should double-check his bank statement to see how much it actually cost. However much it is, it’s worth it to see the smile on Emily’s face now, after what happened earlier. Ignoring the ripple of unease spreading through his body at the memory of Jake’s last words to him –You’re going to regret this, Pete. Trust me– Pete leans over and takes the lighter from Emily, cupping his hands around the candles until all eighteen of them are lit. A pitchy rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ fills the air, and as Emily leans down and blows out the candles, Stu pulls out his phone and takes a short video.
