I spun round, taking in the contents of the lounge: the leather suite we’d splashed out on when I secured my departmental headship; the lamps we’d bought from Greenwich Market on a ‘romantic’ mini-break to London; the carved wooden box Gary had bought me for our fifth ‘wood’ wedding anniversary and the wooden chess set I’d given him; the pair of prints we’d bought on holiday in Tuscany. Every single item in the room held a memory and every single memory involved Gary.
Sagging against the doorframe, I gasped for air. I’d been wrong to kick Gary out and stay in a place full of memories. I should have left instead.
I had to get out of the house and away from the lies. I ran up the stairs to the bedroom, wincing with every other step, pulled off my nightie and grabbed the first skirt and top I saw in my wardrobe. They didn’t match, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that my hair was a mess or that I hadn’t brushed my teeth. All I cared about was escaping. I just hoped I could still drive with my injured ankle.
Sitting cross-legged on the cool sand at Lighthouse Cove, my arms loose by my sides, a breeze chilled my wet cheeks, but I didn’t have the energy to wipe the tears away. Wispy clouds floated lazily across a cornflower blue sky indicating the start of another gorgeous day on the Yorkshire Coast. The weather felt wrong. It felt like there should be a storm and crashing waves to match the turmoil in my life, not the sort of weather that could elicit a smile from even the grumpiest person.
I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head of any thoughts, focusing only on the soothing lapping of the waves. No thoughts. Focus on the waves. Relax. The warm sun on my face felt like a hug; just what I needed. I breathed in and out slowly. In through my nose, out from my mouth. In… and out… In…
‘Elise?’
Startled, I opened my eyes. ‘Kay? What are you doing here?’ I quickly wiped at my cheeks.
‘Taking photos of the rock pools.’ She knelt down beside me. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘I saw the tears. You know you can tell me anything, sweetheart.’
The tears tumbled at her kind words. ‘It’s all gone wrong. My husband’s gay and our marriage was a sham…’
‘I’m so very sorry,’ Kay asked when I’d brought her up to date between sobs. ‘Where do you go from here?’
I shrugged. ‘Arrange to see a solicitor, start divorce proceedings and somehow try to re-build my life. That’s not going to be easy given that Gary’s been the most important part of it since I was fourteen.’
‘I’d ask whether there’s any chance of a reconciliation, but under the circumstances…’
‘After I caught them together, I knew it was over. After his revelation last night that he’s always known he was gay, what would be the point? If we did stay together, it would be a marriage of convenience and that’s not going to make anyone very happy. It’s not what I want and, let’s face it, he wants Rob, not me.’
‘Will you keep the house?’
I sighed. ‘The house has too many memories. There are photos of us everywhere and we picked everything together. Every piece of furniture and every item in the house right down to the utensils pot in the kitchen symbolise our life together. A lot of couples set up their own homes then meet so they’ve got their own stuff, but we were childhood sweethearts so we started from scratch together. Nothing’s mine. It’s all ours. Even if I removed everything and started afresh, there’s still the house itself. We were the first people to live in it. We had our offer accepted early enough to pick out the kitchen and bathrooms and make alterations to the layout so it was exactly what we wanted. I remember meals and barbeques and parties… and, worst of all, I remember him in the shower with Rob.’
Kay took my hands in hers. ‘Then you know what you must do. Come and live at Seashell Cottage with me.’
I shook my head. ‘I couldn’t impose on you like that.’
‘Nonsense. You wouldn’t be imposing. After more than six months travelling the world and sharing a room with Linda, I’m finding it a little too quiet on my own again so you’d be doing me a favour.’
‘You really mean that?’
‘You know I’ve always thought of you as a surrogate daughter. I want to help.’
What a lifeline! Yes please! I looked into her eyes to make sure she was genuine and not just being nice and saw the loneliness. I could use a mum figure in my life right now. ‘Would tonight be too soon?’
She grinned. ‘You can move in right now if you want.’
I dug a shell out of the sand with my bare toes as I contemplated her offer. ‘It’s very tempting, but it will take me a while to pack. Plus, I haven’t broken the news to Jess, Dad or Mother yet. I really need to do that today before anyone else does.’
‘Tonight it is, then,’ Kay said. ‘Good luck with your mother. Do you want me to come with you for some moral support?’
‘Also tempting, but I prefer to face the enemy alone.’
I didn’t bother trying her flat. I knew I’d find her in The Flag Inn, her run-down local; Flag Inn by name and flagging by appearance. The stale smells of beer, sweat, and years of nicotine abuse before the smoking ban made me gag as I pushed open the heavy wooden door.
When my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I spotted a woman on her own at a table by the jukebox, nursing a tumbler of amber liquid. She wore a sky-blue cotton nightie with daisies embroidered across the top, a pale grey threadbare cardigan and a pair of navy canvas shoes. Matted auburn curls hung round her haggard face. If I didn’t know better, I’d have placed her in her late sixties, not fifty-one.
‘Hello Mother.’ I pulled out a stool and sat down opposite her.
‘Jess,’ she slurred. ‘What are you doing here?’
I took a deep breath. ‘It’s Elise.’
She squinted. ‘Oh. Forgot my glasses. I’d offer you a drink, but…’
‘It’s fine. I’ll get my own.’ I stood up again.
‘Whiskey,’ she said. ‘Double. No ice.’
There was no point protesting. Over the years, I’d tried it all – reasoning with her, shouting at her, enveloping her in love, shock tactics, GP appointments, counselling – but at the end of the day, she didn’t want my help or anyone else’s. I’d ended up turning to counselling myself. I’d believed that I needed to ‘fix’ her, but my counsellor, Jem, had helped me see that she didn’t want to be fixed. He was right. Only she could make that decision.
A few minutes later, I placed the double whiskey on the table in front of her. ‘I’m not staying long.’
She smiled after staring at the glass for a while, as though she’d managed to focus for long enough to register that it really was the double measure she’d demanded. ‘You don’t have to stay at all if you don’t want.’
I took a gulp on my apple juice. ‘I’ve come to tell you something and then I’ll leave you in peace because I can see you’re very busy.’ The sarcasm was lost on her, but it made me feel a little better. When she showed no interest in what I had to say, I hesitated about telling her. ‘I see you’ve got a new nightie,’ I said.