I found myself bristling even though I knew exactly what he meant. ‘Why?’ I challenged.
‘Well, I never thought someone like her would be your cup of tea. For a start, she seems really high-maintenance.’
I shook my head. ‘That’s what I thought too but I completely misjudged her. She’s open and warm and she’s great company. She’s not as together as you think; she’s quite vulnerable, actually.’
‘I’ll have to take your word for it.’
‘You need to meet her. I think you’d like her too.’ Suddenly, I had an idea. ‘Maybe I should invite them over for dinner?’
‘Here?’ Jay’s eyes circled our tiny kitchen sceptically.
‘Yeah, why not?’ I shrugged. ‘I’m telling you, she’s not one bit snobbish.’
‘I thought you said they weren’t getting along too well. A dinner party is probably the last thing they want to face.’
I thought about what Jay was saying but I was curious about Hugo. And I knew Maya would appreciate the invitation. ‘Look, maybe they just need a reset. And I know Maya would be glad to come.’
‘Well okay, if you think it’s a good idea…’ I could tell by his tone he was still uncertain about it all and was only agreeing to it for my sake but I really wanted him to meet her.
‘Great!’ I said excitedly. ‘I’ll let you know what she says.’
20
MAYA
I heard the familiar pop as the cork was pulled out of the bottle neck and I immediately felt my shoulders start to relax. I poured the wine into the thin-stemmed glass and took a sip while using my thumb and forefinger to massage a painful knot in my neck. Then I filled up the remainder of the glass. The day had been hellish. After I had collected Elliot from school, I saw Fiona Chambers, one of the directors’ wives’ number flash up on my phone. Just as I had been starting to feel marginally better about what had happened the night before, the anxiety rose up inside me once more.
‘H-hi, Fiona.’ I had stammered, caught off guard, unsure why she was calling me.
‘Maya,’ she begun. Her tone was cautious, like she was holding something back. I could imagine her tight-lipped, pinched face at the other end of the line. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m overstepping the mark but you’ve been on my mind all day…’
‘Oh really?’ I replied, faking nonchalance.
‘I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay after last night?’ she went on.
I felt the blood drain out of me and I made my way down into a chair. ‘I’m okay, thanks for checking…’ I had replied, suddenly feeling like I was standing on unsteady ground, like I was sinking in the sand left behind by the outgoing tide. It was tormenting me that I couldn’t remember what had happened last night.
‘I’m glad to hear it. I know you were a little…’ She paused, pondering over her next word. ‘Upset. And… em… well, that’s understandable. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we’ve all been there. Don’t be too hard on yourself today. Everyone knows what it’s like.’
I cringed, my mind racing as I wondered what the hell she was referring to. Had everyone witnessed an altercation between Hugo and me? Or had something else happened – something that I clearly didn’t remember? I just hoped I hadn’t made a show of myself. ‘Well, thank you, Fiona. I appreciate that,’ I played along, not wanting to embarrass myself any more by admitting that I couldn’t remember anything from the night. We chatted politely for a few minutes about the weather and it was a relief when we eventually said our goodbyes.
After I had hung up, my anxiety had escalated to new heights. When was this awful day going to end? The call had left me feeling even more at a loss as to what had happened. I had given Elliot the iPad, then I had gone upstairs to my room and lay on the bed with my eye mask on, wracking my brain for a clue as to what had happened last night. Fear and dread swilled in my stomach. I wanted to shed my own skin like a snake and crawl out from underneath it. How bad had it been? Had I been messy or perhaps I had fallen over? Had I made a scene? Had I shouted and screamed?
Eventually, when Elliot came upstairs and told me he was hungry, I dragged myself up again and made dinner. It was as if he was deliberately testing my patience. He had been full-on as I made dinner; he refused to eat the bolognese I madewhen I used fusilli pasta because we had run out of spaghetti. Then he had thrown a tantrum because I wouldn’t let him go on his iPad again. I took deep breaths to stay calm and counted down the hours until bedtime. Then, after a lot of coaxing, I had finally managed to get him into the bath but when I had gone to fetch a towel for him, he took all my shampoos and bath oils that rested on the shelf alongside the tub and poured them into the water. It was a relief when I finally had him tucked up in bed. I had come downstairs and poured myself a large glass of Pinot. I knew I should probably stay away from alcohol after last night but the paracetamol I had taken earlier had done nothing to shift the hangover. From experience, the hair of the dog was the only thing that was going to do the trick in this situation. And I needed something to take the edge off my anxious mind. I reckoned I had earned it after the day I had had.
It was almost ten when I saw the beams of Hugo’s headlights in the driveway shining up at the house like two beacons. He didn’t greet me when he came into the kitchen and moved around the room without so much as a glance in my direction and I knew immediately that I was getting the silent treatment for whatever it was that I had supposedly done wrong the night before. He moved around the kitchen, ignoring me like I was an inanimate object. It was as if I was invisible. He didn’t ask about my day or how Elliot was. He didn’t even make a dig about my glass of wine like he usually would. This was worse than I thought. What the hell had happened? I wracked my brain to remember why he might be angry with me but it was futile. Like a hard drive that had been wiped, the alcohol had cleanly erased my memory of the night before. Had I done something to embarrass him? I wondered. Had I made a scene? Had I let the side down – shown the world that we weren’t the perfect couple –or worse– that I wasn’t the perfect wife? I thought about the social-media girl and what they might have said to one anotherin work today. Cruel images of the two of them locked inside his office, laughing, taunted me. The sickly feeling of dread that had been hanging over me all day cloyed and clotted in my throat until it felt as though it was choking me.
I took a large sip from my wine and pushed back the tears that were threatening to fall. I kept waiting for things to improve but we seemed to be slipping further away from one another. It felt like we were standing on either side of a fault line and the crevice between us had grown so great that we could no longer reach one another.
Hugo headed upstairs to his room and once again, I sat downstairs alone with only my wine glass for company.
21
LIV
It was Tuesday once again and as soon as I woke that morning, dread pooled into my tummy and stayed swirling and swilling around inside there all day. I hated our sessions with Julia so much, I’d rather be boiled in oil than sit through them, but Jay was adamant that they were helpful.
Each time we came home afterwards, it took me a long time to build myself back up again. I had been drained following our last session and a tension headache had bored through my brain for two days afterwards. I would lie in bed at night wide awake and feel my heart racing. Our sessions didn’t seem to affect Jay in the same way. Although he was concerned for me and knew how hard it was for me to discuss my trauma following Finn’s birth, no one would everreallyunderstand what I went through at the time. It wasn’t his fault, but he would never know the true depths of my fears now as a result of everything that had happened to me.
