‘I assure you, Olivia, there is nothing amusing about this.’ Marion held up the pile of A4 photographs, waving them in the air.
‘Can I see?’
She handed me the photographs, my hands shaking as I looked through. It was me, in the pub on the night of Harry’s birthday, tipping a glass of wine down my neck. Me, flailing around on the forest floor, having fallen over. Me, jumping into the lake completely naked. Me kissing Seb. Me pushing Bertie through the school gates (as a joke when he’d been running late). Me hugging a man in the shop (Pat, on the anniversary of his wife’s death). Me, walking down the street carrying two bottles of wine (a thank you present for Stephan and Pat’s babysitting).
‘You… you’ve had me followed?’ I could barely force out the words, so incensed was I by Marion’s actions.
‘And just as well I did. It’s clear from these photos you’ve been living a debauched lifestyle, leaving Bertie in the care of strange men, and behaving like the village whore.’
‘Wh.. What? There are innocent explanations behind all these photographs.’
Marion let out a cold, hard laugh. ‘I’m not sure a court would see it that way.’
‘A court?’
‘Oh, stop gaping like a goldfish, Olivia. All we want is what’s in our grandson’s best interest. You’ve got him living with a group of drop-outs, going to a second-rate school, and being left alone while you flaunt yourself around the village. I’m not sure any judge would look kindly on that style of mothering.’
‘Judge? What are you talking about?’
‘We’ve instructed our solicitor to secure us guardianship of Albert.’
I stood up, throwing the photographs to the floor. ‘His name isn’t Albert. It’s Alberto. How dare you threaten me like this?This is all… all…’ I pointed to the photographs strewn across the carpet. ‘It’s all a pile of horseshit, and you know it. Is this about money? Do you think I’m going to come after your money? Because I’m telling you, I want nothing to do with you or your wealth. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.’
Throughout my rant, Marion had sat calmly on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap, her legs crossed elegantly at the ankles. ‘Have you quite finished?’ she asked when I flopped back down on the sofa.
‘What does Rob think about all this?’
‘Rob is in agreement with me that Albert moving into the family home would be in his best interest.’
‘But he hasn’t seen Bertie for weeks! Every visit I’ve arranged, he’s pulled out of. You want to go to court? Fine, there’s plenty I could say about your son’s parenting if we do.’
‘Well, of course, you’ve every right to fight us over this. Although, the last time I looked, it seemed lawyers were rather pricey. Do you have access to funds I don’t know about?’
I struggled for words as the full horror of what Marion was saying sank in. There was no way I could fight a custody battle in the courts. I’d been doing my best to save since I began working, but I’d started paying Harry rent and the few hundred pounds in my bank account wouldn’t stretch to even a consultation at a law firm. I stood up, but my legs gave way and I clung to the seat of the chair, fighting the tears that strained to break free.
‘Now now, there’s no need to get upset. There is a way out of this that will make everyone happy.’
I looked up at Marion like a stray dog who’d just been kicked but was still prepared to accept a bone from its attacker.
‘Yes, this could all be sorted out simply.’
‘How?’
‘Well, you could forget all this ridiculous divorce business, for starters.’
‘What?’
‘Go back to Rob. Forget all about this silly farm nonsense. You could be a proper family again. Albert could have a mother and a father. Surely that would be the best option all round?’
‘But you hate me. Why on earth do you want Rob to stay married to me?’
‘Better the devil you know, dear. You should see some of the women he’s been carrying on with since you abandoned him. Pff, I wouldn’t allow them across my threshold. No, better the devil you know.’
Tears broke free and carved their way silently down my cheeks.
‘Anyway, dear, there you have it. The choice is yours. I’ll give you a week to think things through, but I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision for everyone concerned. I’ll be in touch.’
Marion stood up, dusting off her skirt as though she’d been sitting in a squat rather than Beryl’s tidy flat. ‘I’ll see myself out.’
