She stroked the embroidered daisies. ‘Prettier than a dress and at a fraction of the price. You got a problem with that?’
‘Would you do anything about it if I had?’
‘No. I’d probably start coming out in my slippers too.’
She would too, just to spite me. ‘No Irene?’ I asked. Irene was Mother’s drinking partner and, from what I’d seen of her, equally as self-centred.
‘Her daughter dropped a sprog and has dragged her to some hideous family photoshoot, poor bugger.’ She knocked back the rest of her drink and picked up the one I’d bought, then stopped before she took a sip. ‘Ah. Penny drops. Is that what you’ve come to tell me? Are you finally sprogged up?’
I cringed at the phrase. ‘No. I’m not pregnant.’
‘Is that doctor of yours shooting blanks?’
‘Mother!’
‘He is, isn’t he? He’s shooting blanks. Or, worse still, he can’t even get it up.’ She took a sip of whiskey.
‘I’ve come to tell you that Gary and I have split up.’
She laughed, or should I say cackled. ‘He’s finally had enough of your pathetic “yes, Gary, no, Gary, three bags full, Gary” spineless attitude, has he? No man likes a woman with no opinions or interests of her own, you know. Men need someone they can spar with, not someone who follows them round like a lost puppy dog.’
My stomach churned. ‘Is that really what you think of me?’
‘Yes, and you’ve just proved it in the ten minutes you’ve been here. You’ve bought me a double without question and you’ve just rolled over and accepted that your own mother goes out dressed in a nightie without trying to debate it. For God’s sake, Elise, why don’t you grow some?’
I stood up, picked up the rest of her whisky and tipped it into my almost-full glass. ‘How’s that for growing some? I’ll see you at Jess’s wedding. If you can drag yourself out of the pub for such a “hideous family photoshoot”, that is.’
Shaking from head to foot, I drove to Lighthouse Cove and sat on the sea wall above the beach, gasping for fresh air and soaking up the heat of the sun in an effort to cleanse myself of Mother’s hurtful words. The worst part of it was knowing that, although tactlessly put, she was absolutely right. At some point during our marriage, I’d completely lost sight of me and had become all about pleasing Gary. I’d carved out a great career and knew I was good at my job, but it was like I was a different person at home: no interests of my own, no challenges, no passion for anything that wasn’t about Gary. Why had I done that? Had it been an attempt to become the exact opposite of my selfish mother and somehow I’d gone too far the other way? Or, even more alarming, had it been that I’d known that things were wrong between Gary and me some time ago and, as the falling apart of my relationship would have meant no baby, I’d tried to become ‘the perfect wife’. If I kept the peace with his awful mother, ran a tidy and ordered house, and avoided arguments, surely there’d be no reason to ever leave me and therefore the family I craved would be just round the corner.
Yet he’d still left me.
Bending my head over, I held it in my hands. What a mess!
I sat on the wall for about half an hour before texting Gary to tell him that he could move back in that evening because I was moving out. Then I drove back to Abbey Drive where I Skyped Dad then phoned Jess to give them the news. Dad offered to get the next flight over from Spain, but I insisted he stay put. I’d see him at Jess’s wedding and we’d spend some quality time together then. Jess, after calling Gary every name under the sun, said she would offer to help me pack, but was looking after Megan for Izzy and there’d be no chance of packing anything if she brought Megan over.
I texted Stevie with an update and called Sarah. Despite me insisting I could manage, Sarah pulled up outside half an hour later. ‘You helped me move twice in less than a year,’ she said as I hugged her gratefully. ‘It’s the least I can do.’
Ten minutes later, Stevie turned up too. ‘Don’t want you taking too much weight on that bad ankle,’ he said, giving me another of his amazing bear-hugs.
Three pairs of hands made light work of it and packed up all my summer clothes, the essentials from my office, my toiletries and anything else I might need in the foreseeable future. I’d return another weekend to pack up the rest of my belongings when I’d worked out where to live on a more permanent basis.
Closing Bertie’s boot, I took one last look at 9 Abbey Drive and sighed. It was over. My marriage was over. I’d never really known the man I’d loved since I was fourteen. As a result, I no longer knew who I was. Well, it was time to find out and, thankfully, I had some great friends around me who’d help me do just that.
Sarah put her arm round my waist. ‘It’ll be okay. You’ll get through this.’
I swallowed hard on the lump in my throat. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Not overnight, but it will happen. I guarantee it.’
As I backed Bertie off the drive, I hoped she was right because, despite everything that had happened, the thought of life without Gary terrified me.
11
The next two weeks flew by as I settled into my new home, Seashell Cottage. A cosy white-washed eighteenth-century cottage in The Old Town, I’d often enjoyed school holiday sleepovers there with Sarah when we were kids. We used to tell each other stories by torchlight as we snuggled under the blankets and listened to the waves from the distant shore. I’d never imagined back then that I’d be sleeping in that same room, on that same bed, at the age of thirty because my marriage had fallen apart.
The EGO programme and play rehearsals kept me occupied for a couple of evenings a week and, on the others and during weekends, I joined Kay for walks along the coast. Sometimes we talked about Gary. Sometimes we talked about Charlie, the love of her life who’d died when his car left the road on his way to propose to her on her twenty-first birthday. She’d closed herself off to relationships ever since. Sometimes we shared companionable silence while she took photos and I stared at the sea, trying to work out what I wanted from life without Gary.
I avoided everyone else, though. I didn’t want sympathetic looks or clichés about time being a great healer or there being plenty more fish in the sea. I didn’t want a new fish; I wanted my old one. I wanted my life back the way it was meant to be: happily married to Gary, looking forward to starting a family, and basking in the excitement of being bridesmaid for my sister and my best friend.
Sarah asked to meet up on several occasions but I fobbed her off with a myriad of excuses. It was a self-preservation thing because I didn’t have the strength in me to be excited about two weddings and, as Jess’s was soonest, I needed to inject the limited wedding excitement I could muster into hers. I had the luxury of time before Sarah’s so I could make it up to her later. It was also a friendship-preservation thing. What sort of friend would I be if I rained on her parade with my current negativity towards the sanctity of marriage? The occasional text or email was definitely the way to go until I felt more positive about things.
Stevie texted me several times and invited me out for a drink. I felt bad for putting him off, but what if he told me news about Gary and Rob that I didn’t want to hear? It was hard enough psyching myself up to opening texts from him, just in case, without meeting him in person as well – even though I really needed one of his super-hugs.