You know how much I love that garden. It’s the peacefulness there, the sense of connectedness to something greater. I know that you’ve always felt it too. It gave us quiet moments, when we could breathe. We needed them, didn’t we? With everything else that was going on at home…
I’d never been good at confrontation. I’d sooner walk on eggshells and keep the peace. But becoming a mother had revealed a different side of me: a deep-rooted instinct to nurture, a fierce desire to protect. And it conflicted.
I looked for the same in Ryan; noticed increasingly how his focus rarely extended beyond himself. In truth, he hadn’t changed from the days we met. But I had. So had our lives. We were parents; no longer was it just about the two of us.
Too many times, you and Ollie overheard us fighting, until the day came when you were six, Ollie eight, when I had a blinding moment of clarity. Knowing this wasn’t how I wanted you to grow up, I was forced to take a look at myself, at us.
‘We can’t go on doing this,’ I told Ryan. ‘This isn’t something the children should hear.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said angrily. ‘It’s perfectly normal for adults to argue.’
‘Not like this.’ I stared at him. ‘And don’t ever call me stupid again,’ I said, quietly furious. ‘We’ll talk later, when the children aren’t around.’ Going back to the kitchen, you were silent, anxious, as you turned your faces towards me. I pinned on a smile. ‘OK, my little munchkins,’ I said brightly. ‘We need to tidy your things away. Then it’s tea time!’ I switched on the TV in the kitchen and found an episode of Peppa Pig.
My distraction tactics worked – that time. But after I’d put you both to bed, I went to find Ryan.
‘We have to talk about what happened earlier on,’ I said. ‘Ryan, it isn’t right to have a yelling match in front of Ollie and Lexie.’
‘We weren’t,’ he said tightly.
‘What would you call it, then?’ Standing there, I folded my arms.
‘You were having a go at me – again,’ he muttered.
I stared at him. Was I? Had I turned into that wife who was always finding fault? Was this my fault, too?
But he went on. ‘Then you started on about how much I drink,’ he says. ‘God, Edie. There’s always something with you.’
‘How the children hear us speak to each other is really important.’ Suddenly I was bristling. ‘If I’ve done something you think is wrong, then for Christ’s sake explain it calmly. There’s no need to lose your temper with me.’
‘And you never get annoyed, Edie,’ he mocked. ‘Even though you’re doing it now.’
‘Believe it or not, I do my absolute best not to,’ I said through gritted teeth. ‘And as far as your drinking is concerned, I’m simply worried you drink too much. I’m really worried. It isn’t good for your health.’ I paused. ‘And I can’t help but notice it makes you more volatile.’
‘Jesus.’ Ryan shook his head. ‘This is me, Edie. I’m the same man you married. It’s not my fault if you don’t like what you see any more.’
I felt my body tighten. ‘You’re missing the point.’ I was silent for a moment. ‘The thing is, Ryan, it’s like you’re not the same person when you drink too much.’
‘Maybe I like how it makes me feel,’ he argued. ‘I work hard. When I’m not, I need to wind down.’
I got that. But when it came to drinking, there was no moderation. Ryan was all or nothing. ‘Can’t you do that without alcohol?’
‘Why do you always have to argue with me?’ His eyes glittered with anger. It was one of his age-old complaints that he trotted out whenever it suited him, designed to deflect the problem onto me.
‘That’s rubbish. I don’t – and you know it.’ Too often, I’d backed down. But on this occasion, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. ‘You need to do something about your drinking, Ryan. I’m not prepared to let our children grow up like this.’
‘Are you threatening to leave me?’ His face took on an ugly look. ‘Because I’ll fight you, Edie. They’re my children too.’
In that moment, I felt powerless. Quite simply, he couldn’t see what to me was so obvious. And I was aware of his anger, bubbling under the surface. ‘It isn’t just that I think you drink too much,’ I started. ‘It’s that I worry you can’t stop.’ I paused for a moment, waiting for him to explode; when he didn’t, I took my courage in both hands before going on. ‘I worry that you’re an alcoholic, Ryan.’ It was the first time I’d voiced what I was most afraid of, and I stifled the urge to tell him that if he was, he hadn’t a hope of getting custody. I waited for him to respond, but he just sat there, a look I couldn’t read on his face. ‘I really don’t want it to come to that,’ I said.
And I didn’t – in spite of everything. I wanted more than anything for us to be a family – the family I’d always wanted when I was growing up. But I had to think about what was best for our children.
For the rest of that evening, Ryan didn’t speak to me. But I noticed he didn’t top his glass up. Then the next morning, he got up and made a point of having breakfast with you and Ollie, before heading off to work – on time, instead of late.
Nothing more was said on the subject, but Ryan’s body language made it clear he wasn’t happy with me.
‘I had to say something,’ I told Lucy. ‘It was awful, knowing Ollie and Lexie could hear every word he said. But he didn’t listen to me – not really. All he was worried about was winning an argument – which only mattered to him because he’d been drinking.’
‘You were right to tell him how you were feeling,’ she said. ‘But there’s only so much you can do. I mean, Ryan has to want to stop. Otherwise, it won’t last.’
