There’s no point lying any more, and I don’t even want to. ‘Cambridge.’
‘I thought that’s where you’d be. Did you … Did it go well?’
‘I got a lot of answers that I’ve wanted for a long time, so … yeah, it did,’ I say, lowering myself into the armchair in the corner of the room. This is where I’ve got the best view of Paddy’s face. I don’t think I’ve looked at him properly for years. ‘I owe you an apology,’ I say. ‘A big one.’
‘No, you don’t,’ he says. ‘I had a one-night stand too – also after we were married. Just the one … episode. Wasn’t even a night.’ He picks up the remote control, points it at the TV, but doesn’t press any of the buttons. A few seconds later he puts it down again on the sofa. ‘Are you going to hate me now?’
‘No. Of course not.’ It’s a surprise – and it probably shouldn’t be – but I’m not hurt or angry. The person I was a week ago would have been, or would have pretended to be, to justify demoting Paddy to even lower in her estimation. ‘Who was she?’ I ask, feeling nothing but emptiness for this man I’ve been married to for so many years.
‘First name was Chloe. Never found out any more than that. She was out drinking with friends at the bar where I worked – can’t remember which one. She was the one who did all the running.’ Paddy smiles sadly. ‘That probably won’t surprise you to hear.’
‘Paddy, when I said I wanted to apologise, it wasn’t for sleeping with Ollie thirteen years ago,’ I tell him. ‘That’s obviously something I shouldn’t have done, but—’
‘Is it? What if Ollie’s the right man for you? Jemm, don’t take this badly, but … you’ve kind of been leaving me, very slowly, while pretending not to, since … I don’t know when. But years. I think we’re probably talking double digits.’
He’s right. For the first time in our marriage, I’m not at all sure I’m the better person out of the two of us, and I’m relieved not to have to pretend to be. ‘That’s what I’m sorry for.’ I start to cry. ‘For the hundreds of mean, blamey, judgey thoughts I’ve had about you. I can see how I’ve made it impossible for you to feel secure, and be yourself – certainly to be your best self – and … I’ve been judging you too harshly and thinking the worst of you since before Lotts was born. If I hadn’t done that, everything might be very different now.’
‘Or it might not,’ says Paddy. He doesn’t sound as unhappy as I feel. ‘Anyway, we can make it work now, for the future,’ he says. Seeing my confusion, he adds quickly, ‘I don’t mean as a couple. I know that’s over. But together or apart, we’re Lottie’s parents. We’re family and always will be.’
‘Yes, we are. And I want to think the very best of you from now on.’
‘Or you could be less perfectionist about everything,’ says Paddy. ‘Including me. Maybe nothing has to be “the very best”.’ He makes quotes with his fingers. ‘Not me, not your opinion of me. Like, what you just said about stopping me from being mybest self…’
I appreciate the effort he’s putting into not sounding scornful. It’s difficult to hold up for scrutiny words you’d never dream of using without allowing scorn to creep in, but he pulled it off.
‘If you’re into that way of thinking about things, that’s great,’ he says. ‘But I’m not. I don’t have a best self. I’m just me. But … maybe you can just stop hating and resenting me, and then everything could be … okay-ish?’
I wipe my eyes. ‘Deal,’ I say. ‘Let’s have a properly okay-ish co-parenting relationship.’
‘When will we tell Lottie?’ asks Paddy.
‘Soon.’
I know what’s coming next before he says it. I only have to wait about three seconds.
‘Are you going to be with Ollie now, then? Are you and he …?’
I wish I didn’t have to answer. Our lounge fills with the howl of a long silence.
Then I nod. ‘I’m so sorry, Paddy.’
The shattering is silent, invisible, unmistakable. I’ve just thrown my whole life at the wall, deliberately smashed it to pieces. It had to happen; that doesn’t mean it’s not terrifying.
‘Don’t be.’ He says it emphatically, and I wonder if his vehemence means that me leaving him is the best thing that could ever happen to him, or that he blames himself, or something else altogether.
34
Monday 6 November 2023, 9.30 a.m.
CHARLIE
No matter how many times she ordered herself to direct her gaze elsewhere, Charlie’s eyes kept coming back to Superintendent Fran Whittingham’s framed wedding photo. She couldn’t stop reading and rereading the stupid caption:
Hands down the most magical day of my life. Fran looked like a princess from a dream. —Lloyd Whittingham.
Charlie remained convinced that it couldn’t be real, yet here it still was.
This morning the super’s resemblance to a princess from a dream was at an all-time low. Persuading her to agree to see the six of them together had taken all of Sam Kombothekra’s charm, and she looked ready to pulverise the first person who opened their mouth.
