Harry hadn’t tried to contact me. He hadn’t even thought of me. He’d just discarded me like I was nothing to him.
My body was tight with panic. What had I done? I’d lost my past when I walked out on Tom. I’d lost my future, too; I had no job, no partner. No money. Tom earned a lot more than I did; we had separate bank accounts but a shared one for bills. We paid half each, which didn’t leave me much for savings. And now I was going to have no money coming in.
“Don’t worry about money,” Harry had said when we talked about living together. “I’ll look after you.”
“I don’t need looking after,” I’d said. “It’s just that I’ll be broke until the house is sold. After that I’ll be fine.”
He kissed me. “Ruby, don’t even give it a second thought.”
I really shouldn’t have listened to a word he said. I called him again. Straight to voice mail and yes, despite everything his voice still made me weak, though furious, too. I jabbed my phone to end the call before I said something I’d regret and just then my phone beeped. It was Tom. As I read the message I felt a moment of panic that he was psychic.
Just spoken to Henry at work who’s trying to sell his house. He said the market’s slow at the moment. He was told it could be months before it sells x
I could feel my blood pressure rise at the thought of not having a home or a job. I needed somewhere to live. I couldn’t stay in the hotel for much longer. When he booked it, Harry had paid for a week and I couldn’t afford to stay there much longer once that time was up.
“I’ll book it for the week and then see how it goes,” he’d said. “We’ll look out for an apartment straightaway. We can rent while we’re deciding where to buy.” He’d sent me some links to huge riverside apartments in Liverpool, others with views over the River Dee. “What do you think of these? They’re all available immediately.”
I thought of them now, those split-level warehouse lofts with their Scandinavian lighting and on-site gyms and twenty-four-hour concierges. What was all that about, tempting me with luxury living then dumping me without warning? That was another thought to add to the burning sense of injustice I’d felt over the last few days. Then my phone beeped again with another message from Tom.
We didn’t have the chance to talk about money before you left. I’ve transferred some to your savings account. Let me know if you need more x
I frowned. He knew my savings account was in name only. I’d had to borrow from him in the past, so he’d known I didn’t have a stash of money. Then my phone beeped with yet another message from him. He was messaging me more now than when we were together. It surprised me; I’d thought he’d ignore me.
I hope you’re OK x
I sat back on the armchair and held a cushion to my chest, watching the cars passing by. I started to think about Tom and where it had all gone wrong. It was hard to reconcile the man I’d met with the man I’d left, but now I saw the man I’d loved and married emerge again. But then those thoughts disappeared as I remembered the last time I’d seen Harry. Was he just stringing me along? Had he sent me those apartment links knowing we’d never live there and that I would have burned my bridges at home? He knew I had no money! He had to know I’d be homeless. I thought of him coming back from his holiday, of his face falling when he saw someone else at my desk. He’d be furious when he realized I’d been fired.
I tried his number again but stopped when I heard him say, “Hi.” I didn’t leave a message. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Later, I realized that Tom’s messages were on WhatsApp and he would have seen that I’d read them. I sent him a brief message:
Thanks.
He must have been watching out for my reply, because his came immediately.
Any time. Take care, babe x
I stared down at the message. He was calling me babe again? Despite myself I felt that familiar feeling of pleasure that I always had when Tom was nice to me. I’d felt it all the time in the early days, but much less often toward the end. Hardly ever, really. Yet each time he was nice, I felt that warm glow of approval and just wanted more of it. I shook my head. I had to stop thinking like that. I’d moved away; there was no way I should move back. I wanted to challenge him, to ask him what he was playing at, but then I thought of the way he could be if I did that and decided to leave it. I could hardly complain that he was being too nice to me.
The evening was still warm outside. The bedroom window would open only a couple of inches, so I dragged the table to the window and got out my laptop. I spent a couple of hours sending my résumé to employers in the area. I was just about to find something to watch on Netflix when my phone pinged. I jumped at the sound. It was Tom again.
Ruby, your mum’s just called on the landline. Thought I’d warn you—she’s calling you in a minute x
Oh no.
Exactly one minute later my phone rang and I winced. When I reluctantly accepted the call, all I could hear was the sound of sobbing. I sighed and went to flick the kettle on. I was in for a long call. I put the phone on loudspeaker, made some coffee, and opened a packet of biscuits.
“Hi, Mum.” More sobbing. I stirred the coffee and chose one of the biscuits. Mmm, shortbread. My favorite. I ate it before saying anything more. “Are you okay? Have you fallen? Do you need me to get help?”
She gave a loud sniff that put me right off my coffee, then said, “I have never been so ashamed.”
If I’d been at her house right now, I would’ve tiptoed around her trying to make everything all right, but I was broke and alone and homeless, and suddenly I thought, Hang on, I am the one with the problem here, not her!
So I said, “Oh no, what have you done?”
“It’s not what I’ve done, it’s what you’ve done. I’ve just had that poor man on the phone. Crying, he was. Said you’d left him and he didn’t know why. I couldn’t believe it! I only saw you a month ago and you said nothing to me.”
Funny, that. I wondered for a second about Tom. He hadn’t wasted much time getting sympathy from her. Had he really been upset? For the first time I thought of him in the house on his own, sitting there in the evenings without anyone to talk to. He didn’t have many friends, just colleagues he’d sometimes go for a drink with. He’d never lived alone; it must have seemed very strange. Lonely. I knew he’d be drinking more than he should, then stopped myself. What he did now had nothing to do with me.
“And that poor son of his.” She gave a heavy sigh. “Having another broken home.”
I wanted to tell her there was a common denominator involved here and it wasn’t me, but there was no point. Women didn’t leave men. That was the rule my mother lived by. They should not just abandon their husbands. They should forgive and forget and maybe encourage the man into a hobby that took him out of the house, preferably every evening and weekend.