‘It could be much worse,’ I said more bravely than I felt. ‘Things are going to be different. But in a way, they already are. You and Alex… you’re at uni and you have your own lives to think about. We’re all going to be OK, Rob. I promise you.’
His call was followed by a similar one from Alex.
‘I can come home, Mum. The course doesn’t matter.’ His voice was filled with concern.
‘Don’t you dare say that,’ I told him. ‘Your course is really important.’
‘I can’t believe Dad could do this.’ There was anger in his voice.
‘I don’t think any of us saw this coming,’ I said quietly. ‘But you’re going to be fine. So is Robbie – and so am I.’ I took a deep breath. ‘We just have to accept things are going to change.’
Speaking to my boys triggered another encounter with Gareth’s whisky bottle that sank me to my lowest level yet and led to another evening of playing all the sad songs and debating with myself what the actual point was of being alive. How all the threads I’d held together over the years were, one by one, slipping away from me: Lizzie, Gareth, the boys… Even my job. Yet paradoxically, it was as I thought of my sons, I galvanised myself into action, because I really couldn’t go on like this.
So it was that the following morning, I showered and washed my hair. Feeling marginally better, I called Elena.
‘Hey, El. Are you busy later?’
‘Tilly… How are you? I’ve been trying to call you. But then I realised you’d probably switched your phone off. Have you listened to your messages? Anyway, I’m not doing anything – well, not this evening.’ Obviously in a hurry, Elena didn’t stop for breath. ‘Come over. I’ll cook some food, and I’ll get some wine. Around seven? Stay over if you like.’
‘Thanks. I’ll bring the wine,’ I said.
‘That would be great. Are you OK?’ She sounded anxious. Then a phone rang in the background. ‘I’m so sorry, Tilly. I have to get this. Can we talk later?’
Cheered by the prospect of an evening with my friend, I put on some make-up and after checking the pitiful contents of the fridge, ventured out to the shops. Perusing the shelves of the local supermarket, I contemplated that for the first time I was shopping for one; as sadness washed over me, I banished it. I could choose whatever I wanted without worrying if Gareth would like it.
It had to be the way to go, I decided. To turn those moments of loss on their heads and look for the flip side – shopping being one of them, music another. Just like not washing my hair for days if the mood took me, or wearing my oldest, scruffiest clothes.
I pushed my trolley across the car park. Then as I reached my car, I heard a voice call out.
‘Tilly?’
I turned to see Tallulah standing there. Tallulah was a therapist I’d met while I was pregnant with the twins and Gareth’s unwanted impending fatherhood almost broke us up. But I was digressing. She and I became friends, but lost touch a few years back after she moved to the States. Tall, with mobile eyebrows, Tallulah was a little irreverent; friendship giving her the right to speak her mind, at times somewhat bluntly.
‘You’re back,’ I said delightedly. ‘Why haven’t you told me?’
‘I got back last week, and funnily enough I have called you, only for some reason you haven’t been answering.’ She looked at me questioningly. ‘Is everything OK?’
I took in Tallulah’s oversized loose-fitting jeans and emerald-green T-shirt, her long red hair messily scrunched into a topknot. ‘Great, thanks.’ I paused. Why was I lying to her? ‘Actually…’ Faced with a sympathetic face, I completely forgot about flipping the script. Taking a deep breath, there in the middle of the car park, I blurted out the whole sorry story of Gareth leaving me for Olivia who was pregnant, how useless I felt. How in a short space of time, I’d lost Lizzie and left my job, how I was most likely about to lose my home, too. How my entire life was in ruins.
‘Fuck.’ She looked shocked. ‘I’m so sorry, Tilly. I didn’t know about Lizzie. That’s so sad.’
‘Thanks. It was.’ I swallowed the lump that was suddenly in my throat. ‘Truth be told, I’m up and down. But I’m trying to pull myself together.’ I squared my shoulders, channelled my inner Bridget Jones. ‘Don’t really have a choice, do I?’
‘I can’t believe this.’ Tallulah genuinely looked amazed. ‘The way I remember it, Gareth never wanted children.’
‘I know. It’s a joke, isn’t it? I just want everything to go back to how it was,’ I said quietly, watching one of her eyebrows tilt upwards slightly. But as I spoke I was already realising, it wasn’t exactly true. ‘I mean, I did to start with. But now… I’m not so sure.’ I wasn’t sure where the words were coming from. ‘I don’t think you can go back, can you? Not after something like this has happened?’ I broke off, slightly astounded with myself.
‘Quite likely not.’ She frowned. ‘There’s another way to look at this. A few days ago, you didn’t know your husband was cheating on you – and has been for some time, by the sounds of things.’ She fiddled absent-mindedly with an escaped strand of her long hair. ‘It’s quite a lot to get your head around, and I imagine it’s changed everything – about how you see both him and you.’ She looked at me kindly. ‘You need to give yourself time to process this.’
‘I think you’re right. That’s the hardest thing, that I didn’t see it coming. Gareth and I…’ I broke off, not sure how to say it without sounding weak.
‘Gareth and you what?’ Tallulah looked at me questioningly.
I sighed. ‘You must have met so many couples who have a crisis at some point. And I know not everyone stays together.’ I hesitated. ‘But after twenty-two years, a part of me thinks he shouldn’t just have walked away – not without at least trying?’
‘Are you expecting me to tell you what to do?’ She raised both her eyebrows.
‘You’re the therapist,’ I reminded her, only part jokingly.
