From now on, I’m going to do things differently.
I dial Stuart’s number.
He has the potential to offer something Ben has now denied me. Every sensible person has a backup plan.
Chapter Five
I’ve been blind. While focusing on my desires and disappointments, I’ve ignored the fact that the children need all the love and attention I can give them. One of the most heart-wrenching questions Felix asked me recently was if he was ever going to get a new mummy and if so, would she be nice to him? Good can come out of my heartache because I’ll have more free time. We are in a horrible pizza place, the lights are too bright, the service is slow, the food uninspiring, yet I feel immense maternal pride as the waiter refers to my son and daughter. I belong.
It doesn’t yet fill the hole left by Ben’s betrayal – I feel sick at the thought of him with someone else – yet I can’t deny that maybe . . . maybe . . . a part of me allowed it to happen. His actions mean that my hand has been forced and perhaps it’s not the terrible thing it initially appears.
Now that I can be more honest with myself, I can admit that I didn’t ever feel totally secure in our relationship. Ben never truly forgave me for the pregnancy scare not long after we met on an online dating site. He said he did, but he was lying to himself. We’d already arranged to set up home together when I discovered that I wasn’t expecting after all, and it resulted in a rushed overfamiliarity with our bad habits, rather than a more natural or romantic beginning. Even though I had good intentions (Ben is the overly indecisive type), I was aware that Nina and others would have negatively judged my methods, so I didn’t share the whole story. But now, he’s fulfilled a dream that was initially mine, not his.
‘Fancy the park?’ Stuart says the moment Felix and Em finish their ice creams.
I smile, pleased at our complicit desire to talk alone.
Stuart and I sit on a bench as the children pull themselves up a climbing frame.
‘Careful,’ I shout out to Emily.
Nina came to the conclusion that it was best not to overprotect the children as they got older, to let them make mistakes, fall, hurt themselves. I disagree. I sense that Stuart feels the same; he is watching Em as she climbs higher and I can tell that he’s ready to run if need be.
‘Phew,’ I say as she descends before running off to the slide.
‘I’ve thought about what you asked . . .’ Stuart says.
I hold my breath.
‘Perhaps it could work, but my parents’ flights from Brisbane are booked. The guesthouse was deliberately kept free for them over the Christmas period. They could stay in the main house with me, but I’m not sure how my dad, in particular, will cope with the children’s noise. How about you move into the guesthouse in January, depending on how it all works with future bookings?’
‘There are none. I checked.’
‘Oh. Nina used to be quite on it when it came to marketing the place,’ he says.
‘Nina passed on plenty of top tips. Bookings will pick up once I get more fully involved. Come spring and summer, we’ll be turning people away.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting that it was your fault.’
‘I know.’ I touch his arm reassuringly.
‘Daddy, come over here! Spin the roundabout fast!’ yells Emily, waving frantically from the middle of the park.
Stuart obediently ambles off in her direction.
I email Deborah, hinting that Stuart needs more help organizing Christmas, and offer suggestions, things that I don’t want to get involved in, like ordering a turkey, providing up-to-date relatives’ addresses for Christmas cards and choosing which charities she thinks Nina would’ve liked to support this year. It’s a gentle nudge away from my chosen projects.
Another random parent has taken up spinning duties, so Stuart and I return to our bench. The cold seeps through my jeans. I couldn’t think of practicalities, like gloves, when I left the house this morning so I blow into my cupped hands to warm them.
‘A longer time frame gives you and Ben time to sort out practicalities, split your assets, surely?’
‘Our place is rented,’ I say, concentrating on my cold fingers. ‘We have separate bank accounts.’
‘Oh.’
Stuart lives in a world where everyone owns a home.
‘Ben and I . . . Well, it’s bad. I didn’t tell you everything. His new girlfriend, she’s pregnant.’
‘What the . . .? That’s shocking. Ben seemed like a straightforward guy. I’m really sorry, Marie. That’s . . . harsh.’
‘It is pretty crap.’
We sit in silence.
‘He even had the audacity to ask if he could keep our cats!’ I start to laugh and find I can’t stop. Stuart does, too, until we are both laughing so hard that I clutch my stomach. It’s such a wonderful release.
‘He doesn’t love her,’ I continue, when I manage to catch my breath. ‘I know because he wants to continue to rent our place on his own while he considers all the best options. He’s in shock.’
‘How about . . .?’
‘Yes?’ I jump in, praying that Stuart is going to suggest what I think he is.
‘How about if you move into a spare room temporarily? It would help us both out, and when my parents leave, we have another chat?’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘It seems like an obvious solution.’
‘What will people think?’ I ask.
Stuart mulls it over.
It is a real concern because it’s obvious what people, especially Deborah, will think. I need to play this carefully. Stuart is still protected by numbness, assumes that sympathy to his plight will remain. It won’t. If he breaks ‘the rules’, he will open himself up to local public dissection. Being under the spotlight is only welcome if it’s positive attention.
As a teenager, I learned this the hard way. Thankfully it was during the years before social media. I don’t think I could have coped with having a silly, tiny, white fib of mine publicly dissected. It was bad enough outside the humanities block at break time surrounded by nosy classmates. As they laughed and probed, I had a choice: to confess or brazen it out. I chose the latter. I stuck to the story and insisted that I had gone to a vague friend of a friend’s party the previous weekend, even though I hadn’t. Afterwards Nina said to me privately that there was no point in lying. She was wrong. There’s always a reason for lying.
‘Well . . . there’s nothing to think. We don’t have anything to hide,’ Stuart says.
‘That’s true.’
As I stand up, long-forgotten hope resurfaces. This is not exactly how I intended things to happen, but I’m going to make it work for everyone’s sake.
‘I think we should tell Deborah together,’ I suggest. ‘Reassure her that the arrangement is practical and workable, and that nothing will change.’
‘Good idea.’
As I sip hot chocolate and watch Em pick the marshmallows out from hers with a teaspoon, I see an elderly couple glance over. They both smile at me. I smile back. Finally, I know what acceptance feels like. I’ve craved it for so long. Stuart and I are going to make a great team – I’ll make sure of it. Before long, he’ll struggle to cope without me.