She thought about the magazine article folded into the bottom of her bag. “Eight Signs That Your Marriage Might Be in Trouble.”
She’d been flicking through the magazine in the dentist’s waiting room the week before and that feature had jumped out at her. She’d started to read it, searching for reassurance.
It wasn’t as if she and Sean argued. There was nothing specifically wrong. Just a vague discomfort inside her that reminded her constantly that the settled life she valued so much might not be as settled as she thought. That just as a million tiny things could pull a couple together, so a million tiny things could nudge them apart.
She’d read through the article, feeling sicker and sicker. By the time she’d reached the sixth sign she’d been so freaked out that she’d torn the pages from the magazine, coughing violently to cover the sound. It wasn’t done to steal magazines from waiting rooms.
And now those torn pages lay in her bag, a constant reminder that she was ignoring something deep and important. She knew it needed to be addressed, but she was afraid to touch the fabric of her marriage in case the whole thing fell apart—like her mother’s house.
Sean fastened his seat belt. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
She felt a moment of panic, and then realized he was talking about her mother. What sort of person was she that she could forget her injured mother so easily?
A person who was worried about her marriage.
“I should have tried harder to make her see sense,” she said.
They would have to sell the house—there was no doubt about that. Liza hoped it could wait until later in the summer. It was only a few weeks until school ended, and then the girls had various commitments until they all went on their annual family holiday to the South of France.
France.
A wave of calm flowed over her.
France would give her the time to take a closer look at her marriage. They’d both be relaxed, and away from the endless demands of daily life. She and Sean would be able to spend some time together that didn’t involve handling issues and problems. Until then, she was going to give herself permission to forget about the whole thing and focus on the immediate problem.
Her mother.
Oakwood Cottage.
Sadness ripped through her. Ridiculous though it was, the place still felt like home. She’d clung to that last remaining piece of her childhood, unable to imagine a time when she would no longer sit in the garden or stroll across the fields to the sea.
“Dad made me promise not to put her in a home,” she said.
“Which was unfair. No one can make promises about a future they can’t foresee. And you’re not ‘putting’ her anywhere.” Sean was ever reasonable. “She’s a human being—not a garden gnome. Also, there are plenty of good residential homes.”
“I know. I have a folder bulging with glossy brochures in the back seat of the car. They make them look so good I want to check in myself. Unfortunately, I doubt my mother will feel the same way.”
Sean was scrolling through emails on his phone. “In the end it’s her choice. It has nothing to do with us.”
“It has a lot to do with us. It’s not practical to go there every weekend, and even if they weren’t in the middle of exams the twins wouldn’t come with us without complaining. It’s in the middle of nowhere, Mum.”
“Which is why we’re leaving them this weekend.”
“And that terrifies me too. What if they have a party or something?”
“Why must you always imagine the worst? Treat them like responsible humans and they’ll behave like responsible humans.”
Was it really that simple? Or was Sean’s confidence based on misplaced optimism?
“I don’t like the friends Caitlin is mixing with right now. They’re not interested in studying and they spend their weekends hanging out in the shopping mall.”
He didn’t look up. “Isn’t that normal for teenage girls?”
“She’s changed since she met Jane. She answers back and she used to be so good-natured.”
“Hormones. She’ll grow out of it.”
Sean’s parenting style was “hands off”. He thought of it as being relaxed. Liza considered it abdication.
When the twins were little they’d played with each other. Then they’d started school and invited friends round to play. Liza had found them delightful. That had all changed when they’d moved to senior school and Alice and Caitlin had made friends with a different group of girls. They were a year older. Most of them were already driving and also, Liza was sure, drinking.
The fact that she might not like her daughters’ friends was a problem that hadn’t occurred to her until the past year.
She forced her attention back to the problem of her mother. “If you could fix the roof in the garden room this weekend, that would be great. We should have spent more time maintaining the place. I feel guilty that I haven’t done enough.”
Sean finally looked up. “What you feel guilty about,” he said, “is that you and your mother aren’t close. But that isn’t your fault, you know that.”
She did know that, but it was still uncomfortable hearing the truth spoken aloud. It was something she didn’t like to acknowledge. Not being close to her mother felt like a flaw. A grubby secret. Something she should apologize for.
She’d tried so hard, but her mother wasn’t an easy woman to get close to. Intensely private, Kathleen revealed little of her inner thoughts. She’d always been the same. Even when Liza’s father had died, Kathleen had focused on the practical. Any attempt to engage her mother in a conversation about feelings or emotions was rebuffed. There were days when Liza felt that she didn’t even truly know her mother. She knew what Kathleen did and how she spent her time, but she didn’t know how she felt about things. And that included her feelings for her daughter.
She couldn’t remember her mother ever telling her that she loved her.
Was her mother proud of her? Maybe, but she wasn’t sure about that either.
“I love her very much, but it’s true that I do wish she’d share more.” She clamped her teeth together, knowing that there were things she wasn’t sharing either. Was she turning into her mother? She should probably be admitting to Sean that she felt overloaded—as if the entire smooth running of their lives was her responsibility. And in a way it was. Sean had a busy architectural practice in London. When he wasn’t working he was using the gym, running in the park or playing golf with clients. Liza’s time outside work was spent sorting out the house and the twins.
Was this what marriage was? Once those early couple-focused years had passed, did it turn into this?