‘Please come home. We need to speak before the kids return from school.’
Adam is right about that at least, and I know exactly what I’m going to say to him.
I slam the front door closed behind me as I stride through the house to our massive state-of- the-art kitchen. All I can hear is the blood pumping around my head and my heartbeat drumming on my eardrums. I clench my fingers, and my jaw aches from tension.
Adam is sitting at the kitchen table in his normal place, a mug of coffee in front of him. He leaps up when I enter the room.
‘I’m–’
‘Shut up,’ I say. ‘You will listen to me for once. I’m not stupid. I knew you were having an affair, but with Marianne! You disgust me.’
‘Lyd–’
‘I said shut the fuck up. You have lied and cheated, and I’ve had enough. I want you out of the house. I don’t care where you go.’ I point to the front door.
‘No, Lydia. I’m not going anywhere.’ He takes a step towards me. I take a step backwards.
‘Yes, you are. You forfeited the right to stay in this house. I’m going to divorce you on grounds of adultery.’
‘We have already agreed to get divorced, but if you state I’m an adulterer, I will–’
‘You will do what? You see, the thing is, Adam, you are an adulterer, and I’ll prove it to the courts. I’ll show what a shit father you are and get sole custody of the children.’
‘Do not bring the children into this!’ His square jaw juts forwards and a large vein throbs on his neck.
‘You might have thought about that before you screwed Marianne and the countless women who came before her.’
‘Look, I’m sorry, Lydia. I shouldn’t have brought Marianne here.’
‘So it’s all right to shag the bitch, but it was a step too far to bring her here?’
‘I’m just saying let’s be reasonable. Marianne will tell Ajay in her own time. Let’s be grown up. We can share custody of the children.’
‘No. You are a liar, and I don’t want you anywhere near Mia and Oliver.’
‘You’re being unreasonable.’
‘And you are the epitome of reason? You’ve lied and lied and lied.’
He flinches. I know my voice is getting louder and higher pitched. Adam hates it when I scream.
‘Don’t push me, Lydia; otherwise I will prove you’re an unworthy mother.’
‘What!’ I am speechless. Where the hell did that come from? How dare he! What has he ever done for the children other than spoil them with excessively expensive gifts in a futile attempt to buy their love?
I shake my head, astounded. Now he is talking a load of utter bullshit. I have been Mia and Oliver’s principal carer since the day they were born. I have been the person who has juggled parenting, home and work. I am the one who makes sure they do their homework, and it is me they come to when they are sad or confused or scared. And he has the audacity to suggest he should get sole custody!
I can’t listen to this anymore. I shake my head in disbelief.
‘Oh, fuck off!’ Adam says. He storms out of the kitchen and slams the front door behind him.
‘Fuck off yourself,’ I say quietly. Then I let the tears come and I sink to the kitchen floor.
4
After Adam leaves, I tear the sheets off his bed and grab the still-wet towels from the spare bathroom and shove them in the washing machine on a 90-degrees wash. I want to boil away all traces of Marianne. I wonder if I should get the locks changed so he can’t come back into the house, but I suppose I should take legal advice before doing that.
With tears dripping down my cheeks, I pace around the house and then walk past the swimming pool and down through our five acres of mature garden to my favourite spot. It’s where I meditate (on the handful of times I’ve actually done that), and it’s where I found a four-leaf clover the first summer we moved here. We have a small brook that runs along the bottom of our garden, away from the manicured lawns and shrub-filled beds. This is the wild place, a copse packed with beech and oak trees heavy with leaves and fallen branches that make perfect seats. Adam told the gardener not to bother with tending to this area. It can’t be seen from the house. So I’ve claimed it as my special spot, not that I’ve told anyone.
I sit on a log underneath an ancient oak tree and sob loudly and indulgently. No one can hear me down here. My marriage is over. I have known that for a long time, but to be confronted by Adam’s lover in my house is breaking me. How dare he! How dare she? Can he really be in love with Marianne? It seems like such a terrible betrayal. I can get my head around an affair where sex is the key motivation, but love. That hurts. Just because I no longer love Adam doesn’t mean I’m ok with him loving someone else.
Did he ever think of the children when he slept with those other women? Does he think of me or Ajay when he’s in bed with Marianne? I wonder if Ajay knows, but I doubt it. He would have said something to me, and he would have been angrier with Adam. Should I tell him? I want to hurt Adam and Marianne, but Ajay is the innocent party in this. Just because I’m hurting doesn’t mean Ajay has to be, too.
Eventually I pull myself together and wander back into the house, patching my blotchy face with foundation and concealer. I have to collect the kids from school.
Quite how I manage to get through the next three hours, I really don’t know. I’m proud of myself. I have perfectly normal conversations with Oliver, whilst Mia ignores my questions and answers with her normal monosyllables. I make supper. I call them downstairs when it’s ready.
‘Why’s Dad not eating with us?’ Mia says as she slumps into her chair.
‘He’s at a meeting.’ I busy myself with serving the quiche and salad. I have no idea where he is, and I pretend to myself that I don’t care. Let her make supper for him.
‘How did your French oral go?’ I ask Mia.
‘Assez-bon,’ she replies.
‘What’s that mean?’ Oliver speaks with his mouth full.
‘Oliver got an order mark for running through the school corridor,’ Mia says.
‘No I didn’t!’ Oliver exclaims. ‘Why are you such a snitch, bitch?’
‘Hey, you two,’ I say. But my tone is lax and does nothing to halt their bickering.
We have just finished eating and I am fishing some ice cream out of the freezer when Adam walks in, his shirtsleeves rolled up. To anyone else, it looks just like he’s come home after a long day in the office.
‘Hello, kids. You’ve already eaten?’ I hear the surprise in his voice.
‘Mum said you had a meeting,’ Oliver says.
‘Did she.’ His voice is flat.
He disappears to his study. The kids finish their food and hide themselves away in their rooms. I hope they are completing their homework, but I don’t have the energy to double-check. I clean the kitchen and go to the living room to watch television.
I don’t look up when I hear Adam’s heavy footsteps.
‘I’m meeting with my solicitor tomorrow and you’ll be hearing from him.’ Adam stands in the doorway with his hands on his hips.
‘Look, Adam,’ I say, sighing as I switch off the television. ‘You’ve lied and cheated on me, but I don’t want the kids to be hurt. We need to do this amicably for their sakes.’