I know it has to be that way, but it bothers me. There has to be movement, of course, momentum to make change, and yes forgiveness, otherwise we are truly stuck. Stuck in this perpetual middle ground, this no-man’s land of reflection and pretence and walking on eggshells, and with a boulder in my gut made of all that I swallow to keep the peace.
So what bothers me? It’s the simple fact that he’s got away with it. Because it isn’t fair.
I’m aware this makes me sound like some bitter crazy who wants an eye for an eye. I’m not, but how does it happen like that? How can it be that he takes a sledgehammer to our life, my happiness, the security my children have enjoyed and have a right to? Then abracadabra! A quick change of postcode, a bottle or two of plonk, some timely tears and voilà! We are repackaged and sailing on.
I don’t want him to suffer, of course not. That would make me a monster. I know that peaceful resolution, friendship, love and communication are the best things with which to line the walls of our home, but what if I can’t? What if I am truly stuck and I start to resent the path he has put us on? What if I cannot let go of the hurt, the duplicitous nature of his affair? What then? I have just this one life – my mother used to remind me that this was not a rehearsal – and so I guess Ellis is right: the question is, how do I see it panning out?
‘Mum?’
At the sound of her son’s voice at the front door, as ever left on the latch, she slammed the book shut and popped it on the end table with her pen on it, as if the mighty pen was as good as any lock and key.
‘In here, Bear!’
Her son darted and jumped on the spot as excitement spilled from him. He was an open book, this boy of hers, and she loved him for it. ‘Have you swallowed jumping beans?’
‘Mum, erm, is it okay if we go to the island, the one out on the horizon?’
‘Lundy?’ She’d spied it offshore on a clear day and read about it in every bit of tourist literature relating to the area.
‘Yes, Lundy! Dad says there’s a boat, like a ferry, and it leaves in half an hour. People are already queuing, but he said I had to come and check with you first!’
‘Yes, of course, that sounds like fun!’
‘An actual island, Mum! You can only get there by boat! It’s small and not that far. We’re going to take pasties and erm, erm, we’re going to walk to the end of the island and have our pasties, then go exploring and then come home!’
‘Wow!’ Bear worshipped his dad and she wasn’t proud of the flicker of envy that sparked in her chest. ‘That sounds like an amazing adventure! Have you checked for rain?’ The sky looked a little overcast.
‘Dad said there’s no such thing as bad weather when you’re exploring.’
‘I see, right.’ She thought Amundsen, Scott and Shackleton might disagree. ‘Are Aunty Ellis and Dilly going with you?’
‘No, Dilly said it sounds boring. She wants to come home and read her book and Aunty Ellis said she might get seasick and she needs gin, so she’s staying.’
‘Of course she is.’ Her heart flexed with love for her sister and for her little bookworm. ‘Well, you guys have a great time, can’t wait to hear all about it!’
‘Can I take some crisps too?’
‘Of course! The perfect picnic; it’s a rule in Ilfracombe, you know, that you can’t have a pasty without a packet of crisps too.’
‘I love you, Mum.’
The way he looked at her before dashing from the room brought her to tears. Her sweet boy, unaware of what they as a family had lost, unaware of what they as a family might still lose.
‘Oh,’ Bear shouted from the kitchen, ‘Dad says we need our waterproof jackets.’
‘They’re on the coat pegs.’
‘We’re going on an adventure! Lundy Island!’ Bear continued to jump around as he stashed bags of crisps in his pockets and grabbed their coats.
‘Have the best time!’ She beamed. His reply was the slam of the front door.
Why did it bother her that Captain Marvellous had got away scot-free? What did she want? Punishment? That the kids would side with her? Kind of! Not that she’d ever say it and not that she wanted to think it!
And did she really? How would making Hugo suffer help her anyway? A miserable husband would only add to her own misery. No, he was right: they had to keep things neat, upbeat and with forgiveness at the core, for all their sakes. But still, it rankled a little.
He had won. Had he won? I mean, yes, they’d moved away from Ledwick Green, but had he paid his dues? And what kind of person did that make her if she wanted some kind of levelling up, some kind of debt to be paid?
A human one. The answer came to her now.
