Isaac looks down at it, his eyes troubled. ‘You need to take it off, Mum.’
Yes, I do. Look at the example I’m setting my children, I need to find another way of coping. ‘I will. I’m going up for a shower now and I’ll take it off and put it away.’
‘Are you coming with us, Mum?’ Isaac asks, his eyes watching me warily. He’s a sensitive little boy and seems to always detect if there’s something wrong. Gracie is more carefree, she’s already tucking into her breakfast, eager to be gone.
I give him a reassuring smile. ‘No, I’m going to get a couple of jobs done, but we’ll all have a game of skittles in the garden when you come back. How’s that?’
A big grin spreads over his face and he nods. ‘Can I be on your team?’
‘I want to be on Mummy’s team,’ Gracie protests.
‘What’s this? What are we having teams for?’ Nick walks in, dressed in his new jeans that fit snuggly around his hips and a black tee shirt. He looks good. He walks over and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a hug. ‘What are you planning?’
I feel my spirits lift. Nick and my family mean everything to me. ‘I promised we’d play skittles with them when you come back.’
‘That’s a great idea,’ he agrees enthusiastically. ‘Now eat up, kids, those ducks are waiting to be fed.’
He opens the cupboard and takes out the muesli. ‘Want some?’
‘No thanks. I’ll have a coffee and take it up to the bathroom while I shower. I’ll eat something later.’
‘Please make sure you do.’ His eyes rest on my face and I can see the concern in them. When I get stressed I find it difficult to eat.
‘I will,’ I promise. I make us both a coffee and kiss the kids. ‘Have a good time, I’m off for a shower.’
They’re too busy chatting about how many ducks they think will be at the pond to reply but Nick blows me a kiss.
I’m in the shower for a while, taking my time to lather with the relaxing spa shower gel the kids bought me for a birthday present earlier this year, enjoying the warm water cascading over my body. It was one of the calming techniques I’d learnt over the years, to focus on things, be in the moment. I feel a sting as the shower gel runs into the welt on my wrist where my band has been.
When I’m dressed I collect the laundry basket and take it downstairs to load up the washing machine. I see Nick’s jacket hanging on the banister in the hall. It’s a lightweight summer jacket and there’s a smudge on his sleeve. I’ll stick that in as well, I decide, picking it up and dropping it into the basket.
I know what Nick’s like for shoving things in his pocket so I check through them before putting it in the machine. His pockets are empty apart from a receipt from the local supermarket. I glance at it as I go to put it in the bin and stop in my tracks. Top of the list is a jar of peanut butter.
My legs almost collapse underneath me, and I reach out and grab the banister for support, my eyes still focused on the piece of paper in my now-trembling hand.
Nick. It was Nick who bought the peanut butter and put it in the cupboard, then denied it, tried to make me think it was me. Why? He knew what this would do to me.
I sit down on the bottom step before I collapse. Nick is the one person I thought I could rely on. He’s been my rock, my support, always there to lean on. Why would he do this to me?
55
NICK
The kids have a great time feeding the ducks and we make a detour to the park on the way home. I want to give Lizzie time to herself, hoping she will be able to relax and see that she’s overthinking all this. When we get back home there’s washing on the line, and the skittles are out in the garden, ready for our game.
‘Mum, we’re back!’ The kids run into the house, shouting. I follow them. I can see by the strained look on Lizzie’s face that something is wrong.
‘What’s happened? Is Judith okay?’ I ask.
She nods, but her eyes don’t meet mine. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
This doesn’t sound good.
We play a couple of games of skittles with the kids, as we promised, but I can see that Lizzie’s heart isn’t in it, and I feel on edge myself. Whatever’s happened, she doesn’t want to talk about it in front of the kids, which is fair enough but means that it’s something serious.
Finally the kids are bored and run inside to play a computer game together so I turn to Lizzie. ‘Now will you tell me what’s wrong.’
She reaches into her jeans pocket. ‘Want to tell me what this was doing in your jacket pocket?’
