‘Seriously, Jen! I’ve got a meeting first thing!’ But he’s laughing, I’m making him happy. I love making him happy; nobody on this earth has a smile like my husband. It changes his entire face; it turns his already handsome features into a face that you can’t take your eyes off: it’s enigmatic. I dismiss his protests, knowing that there is a row of neatly ironed white shirts hanging in his wardrobe.
‘Stop!’ He puts out his hand like a traffic warden, but the smile is there, the love behind his eyes is there. I don’t stop; I grab his tie and pull him towards me, kissing him deeply, marking his shirt with my charcoal palms.
‘Ugh!! Mummy, you’re making a mess of Daddy’s face!’
Ed groans beneath my lips, half passion, half disappointment at being interrupted. I give him a nose-to-nose kiss.
‘Daddy likes it.’ I kiss him on the lips again and turn to Oscar, the monster claws out, as he squeals in delight and runs away upstairs with me in hot pursuit. Hailey is about to step onto the landing but is forced back into her room by her excited brother; she turns her head, tracking his feet as they jump onto her bed, where he begins bouncing up and down.
‘Grrr!’ I make the claws again and go to tickle Hailey under the arms, but the look she throws me stops me in my tracks.
‘I need to get my shoes on or I won’t get my sticker.’ She pushes her glasses up her nose and barges past me, shaking her head at Ed, who is stepping from the last stair to the landing. His hand stays on the banister as he watches Hailey push past and rush down the stairs.
‘I’ll—’ I move towards him, but he shakes his head.
‘Give her a minute. I’ll just change my shirt, then I’ll speak to her on the way to school.’
I nod.
‘Why don’t you have a bath and relax?’ The look is back behind his eyes, the look that watches my movements like I’m made of glass, like I’m about to crack and splinter into pieces; the look that knows he won’t be able to fix me if I shatter.
The bathroom door closes softly behind me. I run warm water into the bath and begin to wash away the mask in the sink. I look up into the mirror.
Half of me stares back.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Ed
I pull up on the carpark, ignore the messages on my phone that tell me that I’m going to be late for the meeting and instead, slip my hands into the palms of my children and join the snake of suburbia through the school gates. Huh . . . snake of suburbia, I like that. That’s what happens when you start reading self-help books in your spare time, you get all . . . wordy. I snap myself back from the self-help books with a knock, knock joke.
‘Who’s there?’ they say in unison.
‘Ipe.’
‘Ipe who?’ questions Oscar, a wry smirk on Hailey’s face.
‘Ugh,’ I say. ‘In your school trousers?’
She giggles at Oscar, who is picking his nose thoughtfully. ‘Ipe. Who.’ He examines his finger and wipes it on his trouser leg.
‘I poo,’ Hailey explains, catching my eye. ‘What is he like?’ her face asks.
‘Oh!!!’ His body folds over in a fit of giggles. I rub the top of his hair, sending it sticking up in all directions before he runs off with a ‘Bye Daddy!’ towards the school doors, through the playground where his classmates are running around in circles, proclaiming themselves to each be a character from PJ Masks. We watch as he skids to a halt, surrounds himself by friends, drawing them near. ‘Knock, knock.’ His gang lean in closer; he smiles, loving being the centre of attention as he delivers the punch line. The bell is rung; he throws me a quick wave and giggles his way towards the open doors.
‘Oscar!’ Hailey shouts, chasing after him. He turns and runs back to his sister, who smooths down his hair, rubs the corner of his mouth with her thumb and straightens his collar, her plaits and blue bows swinging, her glasses perched behind her protruding ears.
I’ve got a lump in my throat as I watch this. Why didn’t I do that? It should have been me, us, that makes sure our son is ready for school. Hailey comes back and I have to clear my throat before I can speak to her.
‘OK, pudding?’ I manage to ask. She grins at me. The summer has brought out freckles across her nose, two of her teeth are missing and her glasses are smeared. I reach over, take them from the bridge of her nose and wipe them with a tissue from my pocket. She takes them from me, stands on tiptoes as I bend down, and kisses me on the cheek.
‘Bye, Daddy! Have a good day at work!’ She heads past the lower-school building and rounds the corner to the upper school. I follow her around the perimeter; the green crosshatch fence dissects my view, but I watch her. She walks past the clusters of girls gossiping, past the boys reluctantly picking up their football and hanging their bags on their shoulders. She doesn’t speak to anyone. And nobody speaks to her. I hook my fingers through the diamonds of green plastic and watch as she disappears through the doors.
Jen’s not the only one having a crisis.
Chapter Forty
Jennifer
Ed says we need to talk. Kerry repeats him and stands by his side as he sits next to me on the sofa. He takes my hand.
‘This all sounds very serious. You’re not dying, are you?’ I try to joke. It’s not a good joke.
‘This isn’t a joke,’ he confirms, dropping my hand.
I try not to laugh at the joke-less joke, but the fact that I keep thinking of the word joke makes me giggle.
‘You need help, Jen.’ Again, Kerry and Ed speak in unison, their words echoing each other. This stops my giggling.
‘Around the house?’
He takes my hand again, ignoring my attempt at humour. ‘Do you remember when we were first together? How we couldn’t bear to be apart? How we told each other everything?’
I nod. ‘I still can’t bear to be apart from you, Ed.’ I lean my forehead towards his.
He takes a deep breath and pulls away from me. ‘This is . . .’ he clears his throat, ‘This is part of why we need to talk.’
‘I don’t understand. Isn’t that a good thing? That after all this time I still want to be with you?’
Kerry puts her hand on his shoulder.
‘It is, but it’s not because of that you didn’t want me to go to work the other morning, is it?’
‘Oh, that. I just . . . I just had a horrid feeling, you know? Like a premonition, like something was going to happen to you.’
‘I get that, but—’
‘I just panicked, Ed. It’s no big deal.’
‘No. That in itself isn’t. When Kerry died, I used to feel like that sometimes too, I was scared that something would happen to you, that a car might hit you or the kids, but—’
‘There you go then,’ I say, as though this concludes the matter.
‘It’s not just that. Jen, your moods swings are—’
My eyebrows shoot up a couple of notches.
‘Hear him out, Jen, you know exactly what he is trying to say.’ Just like she did when he tried to convince me that going back to work after Oscar was born was a good thing. I look over at her and roll my eyes. I’m about to reply, but I don’t.