Our House(74)

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not excusing what he’s done – obviously I despise it: he’s stolen from me, he’s stolen his own children’s future – it’s just that a part of me understands how the situation might have become as extreme as it did. You know, an escalation of events, a momentum that couldn’t be halted. A sense of cosmic irresistibility. A problem shared is a problem halved, we all know that, but isn’t it also the case that a problem kept to yourself is a problem multiplied many times over?

And that’s what he did, I’m convinced – in my calmer moments, anyway. He kept it to himself. Had he confided in someone, anyone, he’d have been dissuaded from his actions. Instead, he’s wanted for fraud and maybe even worse, maybe even—

No, I won’t say it. I won’t say it until – unless – it’s been proven in a court of law.

No, honestly, I can’t make any statement about it. I’d get in trouble with the police myself.

What I will say is that Bram was not the blithe spirit people thought he was. He had his depressive moods, more so than most of us, which stemmed from his father dying so young. Not to criticize his mother – she’s an amazing woman – but parenting a bereaved child isn’t easy when you’re grieving yourself.

I suppose the point I’m trying to make is that it’s hard sometimes to tell the difference between weakness and strength. Between hero and villain.

Don’t you think?

*

Timing was not on Bram’s side, I admit that. In fact, it couldn’t have been crueller.

Though I’d intended heeding Toby’s advice and reining in my outrage about the attack, by the time Bram returned the following evening for his regular Wednesday visit with Leo and Harry, there’d been a development he could not have foreseen. I waited for him to come down from putting them to bed, led him into the living room and closed the door – I didn’t want the boys hearing a word of this. As we settled on the sofa, wood burner glowing across the room, I thought how couples up and down the street would be doing the same, precious few caught in a fray like ours.

‘About what happened last night,’ he began. As Toby had predicted, he was bashful, full of remorse. ‘I’m really—’

‘I know.’ I shrugged off his apologies. ‘Toby doesn’t want to escalate it. You’re very lucky, he could have gone to the police. But he understands why you lost it like that.’

Bram gaped, apparently stunned by this revelation. ‘What did he say?’

‘Just that he appreciates the value of what you chose to throw away.’ A good wife, an attractive woman. I paused, enjoying his confusion. ‘Besides, what he and I do or say is none of your business, we agreed that.’

‘O-kaay.’ He extended the vowels, buying himself a second or two as he tried to guess what was coming, if not a postmortem of the previous evening’s crime.

I produced an opened envelope from my cardigan pocket. ‘This came in the post today, Bram.’

He took it from me. ‘It’s addressed to me.’

‘I know, but I thought it might be to do with the insurance claim, with any luck a reversal of their decision, so I opened it on your behalf.’ In fact, the document was a DVLA form inviting Bram to reapply for his driving licence following a disqualification in February. ‘A driving ban, Bram? Months ago, when we were still together. You went to court, you stood in front of a magistrate, and you didn’t say a word about it!’

‘It’s a criminal act to open someone else’s post,’ he said, sourly.

‘It’s a criminal act to drive while disqualified!’

‘What?’ He frowned at the document. ‘That’s not what this says.’ The faintest of shrugs, all he could muster of the famous Bram bluff and swagger.

‘No, but it’s what I’m saying. Don’t deny it, you’ve driven regularly since then, I’ve seen you with my own eyes. For Christ’s sake, Bram, a ban is bad enough – especially in your line of work, you’re lucky you haven’t lost your job – but if you’d been involved in an accident these last few months you’d have got in serious trouble. What were you thinking? How do you get yourself into these situations? Why can’t you just follow the rules like the rest of us?’

I’d grown strident, disliked the sound of myself in this righteous mood. Never had I felt more like a parent than at that moment: his parent. ‘Well?’ I wanted to hear it from his own mouth, I wanted to watch him confess.

Having chased each other’s gaze around the room, we now connected properly and he narrowed his eyes at me as if he no longer trusted me (he no longer trusted me!). ‘Fine, so I made a few quick trips when I shouldn’t have, but not as many as you think. And then the car was stolen and—’

‘And you were spared further temptation thanks to someone behaving even more criminally than you,’ I finished for him. ‘So, on these “few quick trips”, did you have the boys in the car?’

‘Maybe once or twice, just a short journey to swimming or something, but they were never at risk, I swear.’

I wanted to slap the idiot. ‘You involved them in an illegal act, Bram, of course they were at risk! I honestly don’t know where we go from here. It was a big thing for me to get past what happened when we split up and when I did it was in good faith that you wouldn’t put me through more distress. But not only have you just assaulted a friend of mine, you’ve also been lying to me this whole time!’