She’d had no idea that the imprint of the coarse stitching on her face would be there for life. A constant reminder of that night, of what they had endured. The scars had faded over time, and were now finer, silvery, almost delicate, like the craze in glazing on something old or the fractures in ice when seen close up. Not beautiful, never that, but better.
She also studied the horizontal lines of ageing on her forehead and the vertical grooves that had started to appear at the side ofher mouth; marionette lines they were called, and she thought this ridiculous. Marionettes were traditionally carved from wood, their faces unchanging as the years passed. What was happening to her was the opposite, a soft and slow decay, the loss of volume, the slackening of skin and the inevitable maturation that saw everything living metamorphose into the shrivelled, collapsing version of its younger, vibrant self.
‘Do you think I look old?’ She sucked in her cheeks and pulled back the skin under her chin.
‘No, I bloody don’t! You’re beautiful.’ He had always said this, and she knew that for him it was true. It was the greatest gift.
‘You’re biased!’ She smiled as she hopped under the duvet.
‘Maybe.’ He ran the pad of his thumb over her cheek. ‘But to me, you are the most gorgeous woman in the world.’
‘Thank you.’ She shimmied down on the mattress until her head was on his chest and she could feel the warmth of him on her cheek.
‘I don’t like it when Jamie pitches up at her events.’
The fact the man was coming to Sophie’s end-of-term fashion show had obviously been on his mind. Her husband did this, let things stew during the day and then offloaded them just before sleep.
‘I don’t like it either.’ Any interaction with Jamie was a reminder of that brief and oh so unhappy period of turbulence, but not all bad, given her beloved Sophie. ‘But we’ll do what we always do; smile, greet him warmly and show Soph that she never has to choose and that she never has to feel guilty or uneasy.’
‘Yep, I just wish . . .’
‘I know, baby.’ She kissed his chest.
She wished it too, that Sophie was theirs in the truest sense, and that Jamie would volunteer for a lifelong Moon mission. Although how much call there was for scaffolders up there, she wasn’t sure.
‘So what did your mum do to upset you?’ He put the remote control down and wrapped his arms around her.
‘Upset’s a bit strong. It was more a small irritation.’
‘A small irritation that you’ve carried all day and felt the need to mention now, so tell me.’
The irony wasn’t lost on her that this was precisely what he had done with Jamie.
‘We were talking about Dad’s birthday lunch, and she said she was going to invite Ashleigh, and I told her I doubted she’d come, and she said something like, “There’s no need to be jealous of her.”’
‘Ouch!’
‘Yes, ouch! I’m not jealous of anyone, especially her! I feel like I could say it all day every day and it would make no difference. It started when she went to St. Jude’s, and in their view, I was left behind. It was like they mentally put us on two different paths. As if she went off to the land of opportunity that meant university and landing Mr Moneybags and starting her own business, moving to the big city, wearing fancy wellies, and driving a big old car even though she’s in the city. Like she switched up!’
‘While you got saddled with this downmarket existence with the man of your dreams.’
‘And thank God for that! I love you, love my life, all of it. There’s nothing downmarket about it.’ It was, as she gratefully acknowledged on a daily basis, enough.
‘Do you ever wish you’d been the one to take the exam, and were now driving around London in a big old country car?’
‘No.’ She laughed, hiding the uncomfortable truth from her husband and feeling terrible that she did so. ‘I like my little car!’
‘It’s not going to change, not ever, love. Your parents have that belief. It doesn’t occur to them that you always had choices. You’re so smart, you could have done anything you chose with your life, still could.’
She felt the heat of discomfort on her skin, knowing she was lying to him about the fact that she had won the scholarship. It sat between them, the only thing that did, but she knew that to tell him now, after all this time, might only cause a rift, and she couldn’t stand the thought of that. It was obvious with hindsight that she should have told him when they met, the event not pressing in her thoughts in those early years, but time had passed, and the path had been set.
‘What Ichosewas to keep Sophie. To make her my priority, to start a family; even though I knew eventually I’d be doing it without Jamie, I didn’t mind. I always figured that it would be harder in some ways to do it alone, but easier in so many others.’ She shifted in the bed so she could face him. That night, the one that gave her scars, had robbed her of so much, filling her with fear that out in the big, wide world, strangers, for no reason she could fathom, might want to hurt you. ‘It’s a weird one.’ She coughed, and shook her head slightly to rid the image of those boots,pistons. ‘How much value they placed on going to St. Jude’s, as if it was the answer to everything!’
‘It was for them, giving you both chances they never got. They saw it as your ticket, like it was the only way to harness your cleverness.’ He let this hang.
‘They made me feel for years like I let them down. Not that they said as much, but their faces, the little shrugs, and glances when we all had to traipse into town to get my sister’s uniform, then the day she started, and I went off to Milton Road. It was always a thing. They revelled in the open days, the sports events, speech days, the music recitals, all of it, as if they’d won the place!’
‘Well, you shouldn’t feel like that. You do so much for them, like you’re afraid to let them down.’ She blinked, knowing there was more truth in his words than he realised. ‘And in their defence, it’s kind of like that, isn’t it, wedofeel pride for our kids’ achievements.I know you’ll be looking at Sophie’s creations at her show, thinking, That’s my girl!’
