I glanced at what he was holding – a leaflet on divorce I’d picked up last night from the solicitor’s office that I’d left in my desk. Taking it, I stared at him. ‘You have no right to go through my things.’
‘I don’t have any rights, from the look of things.’ His jaw was clenched. ‘When were you going to tell me?’
‘When you’d stopped stonewalling me.’ I was suddenly, totally, done with his dysfunctional behaviour. ‘I can’t remember the last time we had a civilised conversation about anything.’
He folds his arms. ‘Whose fault is that?’
A heavy sigh came from me. ‘A broken marriage isn’t always about blame, Ryan. Can’t you see that? Neither of us is happy. In fact…’ Seeing the look in his eyes, I broke off, frightened of provoking him.
‘In fact, what?’ He stared at me. ‘Say it, Edie.’ He paused. ‘You can’t, can you? You accuse me of being terrible at communicating, but I’m not sure you’re any better.’
My mind was contorted with pain, powerlessness, frustration. Any ability we had to communicate was long gone. I knew then that there was no hope of reaching any understanding. ‘That’s so unfair,’ I said.
‘Now you know how it feels,’ he said maliciously. ‘It isn’t nice, is it? Having someone pointing out your failings? But I can’t remember the last time you said anything nice to me.’
‘Mum?’ you called out from upstairs.
‘It’s OK, sweetie.’ I was speechless, reeling. Wondering how I’d ever imagined I loved this man. Still holding myself, I eased myself upright. ‘We’re packing our things. We’re moving out.’
His jaw was clenched, his eyes flashing. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’
I heard footsteps on the stairs, just before Ryan thrust one of his arms out and in an aggressive movement, swept everything off the worktop; the sound of shattered china made me flinch. ‘This is your fault as much as mine,’ he said threateningly.
‘Dad, stop.’ Ollie’s voice came from behind me.
It was followed by your voice. ‘Yes, Dad, stop.’
A look of fury crossed his face. ‘Shut up,’ he bellowed.
I gazed past him towards you, terrified that he was coming after you.
But he stepped closer to me. ‘Not so clever now, are you?’ As Ollie tried to pull him away, Ryan shoved him.
My body started to shake. ‘Don’t, Ryan.’
My fear seemed to fuel him. He raised a hand. Then he slapped me.
I heard you scream as I slumped to the floor, waited for him to kick me as he had once before. ‘I’m calling the police,’ I thought I heard Ollie say.
‘Give me that.’ There was a scuffling, the sound of more china being swept onto the floor as you crouched down beside me, Lexie, your face white. ‘Mum? Are you OK?’
‘The police are coming.’ Ollie’s voice was shaking.
I heard the sound of Ryan’s footsteps, then his keys being picked up. ‘Fucking jokers,’ I thought I heard him say, before the front door opened then slammed shut.
I sat up just as Ollie came back. His face was white as a sheet. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’ Ollie crouched down next to you. ‘Should I call an ambulance?’
‘No.’ My head ached where I’d fallen. But the pain in my heart was far worse. ‘Are you both OK?’ I gazed at Ollie, then at you.
‘We’re fine,’ Ollie said. ‘Aren’t we, Lex?’
Ashen, you nodded. ‘We have to get out, Mum.’ You looked at Ollie. ‘Did you really call the police?’
He shook his head. ‘I should have.’
I imagined getting the police involved, getting a restraining order put on Ryan; knew it would only enrage him further. And a part of me was so worn down, all I wanted was to get away from there. ‘It’ll only make things worse,’ I said quickly.
