‘My children are ahead of me, though, aren’t they?’ I stared at the roses I was de-thorning. ‘It means either Ryan has to move out – or we do.’ Suddenly my doubts were back. ‘I have to think about money, too. Running two houses…’ My stomach churned nervously. ‘I’ve no idea how we’re going to afford it.’
‘Take each step at a time,’ Lucy said. ‘If you’re stuck, you and the kids can stay with me.’
‘Thank you.’ But she didn’t really have room. ‘Maybe I should start looking for a place to rent.’
‘Maybe a place with a garden?’ Lucy raised an eyebrow. ‘A patch for growing flowers?’
I stared at her; in my head, it was like a chain of events was being set in motion. As though already I could see things falling into place. And time was running out. They had to.
Time was also speeding up. Another Christmas came. Increasingly, you were making your own plans, which meant that this year, you volunteered with a homeless charity. At fifteen, you needed consent that I was reluctant to give, determined to maintain the myth that Christmas was about family.
But you were adamant.
I don’t want to listen to Dad ranting. I’ll be with nice people who are down on their luck. What I do for them actually means something.
You had a growing conviction that there should be a purpose to your life. It increasingly drove you on, while it drove Ryan mad.
‘She looks at me as if she’s so much better than me,’ he’d say.
You didn’t; it wasn’t your way. But you made him feel uncomfortable about everything he didn’t want to think about. And I didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were more aware and empathic than he had ever been.
Just before the New Year, when I saw Caitlin again, she wanted to talk about me.
‘Usually there’s a reason why someone stays in an abusive relationship,’ she said.
I frowned. ‘Ryan isn’t abusive.’ Staring at the window, I went on. ‘Things haven’t always been easy for him. He’s been passed by at work for promotions. I think his problems go back to his schooldays – he told me once he was bullied.’ I couldn’t believe the memories that were coming back. ‘I think it left him feeling inferior to other people – it’s why he drinks. To hide it.’
‘Has he spoken to anyone about this?’ Caitlin asked.
‘He went to AA a few years ago. He stayed sober for about a year. But he was miserable.’ I looked at Caitlin. ‘The bottom line is, he doesn’t want to stop.’
‘And you can’t change that,’ she said. ‘It might be hard to hear, but Ryan is abusive.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘He’s been physically abusive towards your son. And his behaviour towards you and your daughter is emotionally abusive.’ She paused. ‘Can you see that?’
Abuse. Was that what this was? I sighed. ‘I’ve never seen it like that.’
‘Do you think there’s a reason for that?’
As I sat there, tears pricked my eyes as I tried to explain. ‘It feels terrible that I’ve let my children be exposed to it. That I haven’t done anything about it.’
‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘I didn’t see it for what it was.’ I was silent for a moment. Then it all came pouring out of me. ‘My father used to drink. My mother left us with him – me and my brother. My childhood was horrible. My father was far worse than Ryan is.’
‘In what way?’ Caitlin asked quietly.
‘He abused my mother. It’s why she left. I’ve never understood how she could leave us with him.’ Tears filled my eyes. ‘After she’d gone, he used to beat us,’ I said numbly. ‘We never had clean clothes.’ I swallowed the lump that was suddenly in my throat. I remembered always feeling awkward at school, the eyes of the other girls on me. ‘The house was as tidy as my brother and I could make it. But we were kids. It was horrible, when I think back.’ Sitting there, I rested my head in my hands.
‘It’s OK,’ Caitlin said gently.
I look up. ‘That’s just it. Nothing was OK. Then it all got worse when my brother started taking drugs.’
‘How old were you?’ Caitlin asked.
‘By then, I was fourteen.’ I would never forget how desolate, how miserable, my life was.
‘Do you think in comparison, your children have a nice home?’
‘They have a lovely home,’ I said. ‘I’ve made sure of that.’
