The mention of a useless father stings, reminding him of his own. ‘How was I supposed to know? Besides, that’s not my fault, or responsibility.’
‘It’s your responsibility to treat her like a human being!’ When Rosie whirls around looking worried, Kirsten lowers hervoice. ‘Or have you forgotten how to do that, Mr Hot Shot Tennis Star? No matter how far you’ve fallen, are you still so far above the rest of us you’re incapable of common decency? What happened to you should’ve been humbling, but clearly, I was wrong.’
Spinning around, she goes to her daughter, forcing a level tone. ‘Come on, we’ve got stuff to do.’ Clasping her hand, she speeds them away.
Along the corridor, a painting on the wall gives a slight tremble as Harley gulps, cheekbones reddening at Kirsten’s departing smash shot. ‘Fuck.’ She knows who he is, and is pissed off. Will she tell people? Does he need to leave before the braying bloodhounds turn up? Will they, or is he old news now? Christ, he doesn’t think he can go through it all again and survive. The humiliation, the sense everyone was talking about him, the lack of privacy and scathing judgements, even though part of him knew he deserved people’s condemnation.
But he didn’t do anything wrong just now, did he? He was simply honest about not wanting to supervise a child. Besides, everyone has an agenda and is after something. It doesn’t pay to get involved. It’s not worth it.
Except kids,the quiet, calm voice in his head murmurs,they don’t have agendas, only emotions they wear on their sleeves. She just wanted to spend time with you.There’s a little kick in his chest, as if the imposter organ is protesting his treatment of Rosie. Rubbing his breastbone, where a vertical scar carves a line that’ll mark him forever, he shakes his head. ‘Stop being so ridiculous.’ He’s not sure whether he’s talking to the voice, or himself. What he does know is with every passing day, it speaks more often, and is getting harder to ignore.
He thinks again of the noticeboard message.Show kindness to children. Rosie washurt and disappointed, and her mother was furious.What happened to you should’ve been humbling.She doesn’t know what happened to him, none of them do. If he were to tell someone about his experiences since the surgery, they’d probably say it’s PTSD from the trauma and to find a therapist. But it might be worse than that, and honestly, he’s not brave enough to find out. He’s recovering from a major health scare and doesn’t need a new one adding to the list.
Maybe it’s karma, like the song the little voice keeps singing to taunt him. He knows it’s by Taylor Swift because it came up on a Spotify playlist the other day and he recognised the tune.
Karma. The cosmos rebalancing the scales by gifting either good luck or bad, depending on your actions.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, he steadies himself with a palm against the wall. There’s a surge of warmth which spreads through his hand and creeps up his forearm. There must be a hot water pipe, or something.
He sighs. Before losing everything, he hadn’t cared whether his serial cheating hurt his wife, nor whether his reckless selfishness impacted his agent or sponsors, or the woman he’d pursued and then dropped once he’d tired of her, leading to unimaginable consequences. After his heart failed due to an undiagnosed congenital condition, there’d been no remorse for swearing at the doctors and nurses after they’d brought him back from the brink of death. Then, in the weeks following surgery, lost in a fog of shock, anger, resentment and pain, he’d felt little pity or compassion for the family of the person who’d given so generously to him. That grief was theirs to bear alone.
God, he’d been so ungrateful.
Yes.The little voice agrees.But you can do better.
Replaying his fight with Kirsten, and with the warmth from the wall somehow soothing him, he realises he acted badly. ‘Oh, fuck.’ She was within her rights to be angry. He behaved like an arrogant twat with no regard for Rosie’s feelings. A horrible sick feeling flips his stomach over. So, this is guilt. A burning itchwhich makes you want to climb out of your skin and walk away. It’s utterly shit.
At last, the little voice remarks, sounding satisfied.
That night, after wrestling with his new-found conscience all afternoon, he creeps along the silent hallways. Crouching, he slides the smallest, flattest spanner he owns beneath a door, taped to a note he’s rewritten four times.
Dear Rosie, I’m sorry. What I said was mean. Meet me by the apple tree tomorrow morning at ten. I’ll show you how to mow the back lawn, and you can help rake the grass. Maybe your mum can bring a cake along. From Harley (like the motorbike)
He hopes they’ll accept his apology and invitation. For some reason, he doesn’t want Kirsten’s expression to be full of loathing when she thinks of him.
Walking back to his flat, there’s an extra beat in his chest, as if in approval, and a lightness floods his body.Show kindness to children.It feels good doing something for someone else. Maybe he can do more than bare minimum on the cottages too. The doctors said to pace himself, but surely there’s no harm in trying. He has to stop being a selfish bastard at some point, right?
Right,the little voice replies,and the cottages – great idea.
The commentary doesn’t irritate him as much as it normally does, and he falls asleep quicker than usual, dreaming of a young woman with black hair and piercing blue eyes. When he wakes in the morning unable to recall the details, he nonetheless feels like he’s seen a friend. The emotion fades as he showers, makescoffee and gets dressed, and by the time he leaves his flat to meet Rosie and Kirsten, he has forgotten. Almost.
As he slams the door behind him, the pale grey wallpaper in his lounge and bedroom darkens by several shades, appearing warmer.
CHAPTER 8
Gilly
Celebrate Special Occasions
When Gilly’s alarm went off at six-thirty on Monday morning, she’d been awake for an hour. Rolling over with a groan, she touched the cool sheets beside her. They’d spent the night apart because Ariel had done nothing to help with the unpacking, and – jittery about starting her new job and exhausted from dealing with the bulk of the move – Gilly finally lost her cool. The blazing row had gone on for half an hour, ending when Ariel screeched, ‘You’re a miserable cow and if you’re not careful, none of your colleagues will like you.’ The slammed front door as she stormed out made the crystal droplets of the lounge chandelier shiver against one another.
Hauling herself out of bed for black coffee and a shower, Gilly fretted over the way Ariel had refused to talk after returning from a walk, closeting herself in the spare bedroom. It wasn’t the sign of a healthy relationship, and she wished again they’d been further past the happy, heady, fun-filled honeymoon phase before Ariel mentioned that because she was in her mid-thirties,with Gilly only two years shy of forty, they should try to start a family. It was logical, particularly as Ariel had such a yearning for a biological child and age-hindered female fertility. In hindsight, they hadn’t been ready for such a momentous step. Hadn’t been prepared for the time, money, energy and emotional resilience needed to embark on such a stressful process.
Dressing smartly in grey trouser suit and white blouse, she threaded pearl earrings through her lobes and styled her short hair before knocking on the spare room door. Ariel had earmarked it for the nursery, but was currently using it for her art. They’d put a daybed in one corner and hung white linen curtains, but otherwise it was empty save for easels, paints, canvases and a pottery wheel Ariel had recently purchased.
She tapped again. ‘Morning.’ Nothing. Clearing her throat, she said, ‘Are you awake? I’m leaving now. The Chair of Governors is meeting me early for a re-run of the school’s layout… I’m a bit nervous to be honest, you were right.’
It was always the same. Dragged down by Ariel’s silence, she’d try to fill the void between them with words. She hated the feeling of being off-balance by not knowing when things might return to normal. Ariel would finally deign to talk to her again, but only whenshewas ready.
