The First Mistake(10)
Being hunted, for me, was somehow easier than being the hunter. I was never comfortable being part of the whispering huddle that the new girl at school had to walk past, desperate to be included, yet so quickly and thoughtlessly rejected by us without a second’s thought. She didn’t need to say or do anything to incur our wrath; Tracy, our ringleader, would already have decided she didn’t like her, and seeing as we seemingly didn’t have minds of our own, we’d just gormlessly follow her lead.
I’d ashamedly surfed Facebook over the years, trying to put right the wrongs I felt I’d been a part of. Unsurprisingly, Maxine Elliott, who I’d been forced to empty a glass of milk over, and Natalie Morgan, who I’d been coerced into telling was ugly, didn’t respond to my friend requests. Funny; after all this time I still use words like ‘forced’. I hadn’t been ‘forced’ to do anything. I wasn’t held under water or nailed to a cross; I’d had a choice, and that’s what still pains me today. In my fantasies, I imagine myself standing up to the draconian ringleader, instead of staying quiet and taking the coward’s way out.
I think about Olivia and feel a tug in my chest. Is it possible that a child so young can be caught up in the same horror? A shiver runs through me.
‘I just want you to enjoy it,’ I say to Sophia. ‘Because it’ll get a whole lot harder before you know it.’
She shrugs and moves away from Nathan’s embrace to get herself an orange juice from the fridge.
‘We only want what’s best for you, sweetheart,’ says Nathan. ‘Your mother’s right, it might not feel like it, but this is the easy part. This is the only time in your life when you don’t have any real responsibilities. You don’t have to hold down a job, you don’t have to pay bills, you don’t have any little ankle-biters, draining your emotions and your bank account.’
She gives him a withering look, but the corners of her mouth are ever so slightly turned up as she battles with a smile.
‘Honestly, it’s tough out here in the big wide world. Don’t be fooled by me making it look so easy.’
We each pick up a tea towel and throw them at him, laughing as he ducks the missiles. But he’s right – he does make it look easy, and I don’t know that I always give him the credit he deserves.
It could have been so different – I could still be thrashing around in that black hole, if Nathan hadn’t rescued me. Us.
I was going through the motions, but not really feeling anything, when I met him. I like to think I would have got myself back around the right way eventually – I would’ve had to, for Sophia. But as much as I’d drawn my strength from my daughter, in my efforts to protect, comfort and love her, I had been a shadow of my former self.
Even on the rare good days, I wasn’t expecting to get a second chance. I thought I’d had the best that life was going to offer with Tom, and with him gone I’d been sure I’d never find love or happiness ever again.
But Nathan showed me that there was still a world out there and slowly, over time, I began to think there might be a place in it for me. He took on the challenge with such sincerity that I often found myself thinking it was all too good to be true. He’d take me and Sophia out for the day to the zoo and quite literally monkey around until her sides hurt with laughter, and he’d surprised us both on her ninth birthday with a weekend away on a boat. When she fell over, he was first in line with a plaster, and when she cried, he was there to offer a cuddle.
‘We love you, and are always here for you,’ he says to her now.
I look at him and smile, my heart feeling as if it might burst.
‘Help yourself to some chilli,’ I say. ‘I’ll just go and check Livvy’s gone to sleep.’
As I pass the open door of our bedroom, I see Nathan’s overnight holdall lying at the foot of our bed. I imagine what’s inside; four pristine white shirts, each laundered by the hotel, ironed and folded perfectly in crunchy cellophane, as if he’d bought them new that day. Probably eight pairs of Calvin Klein underpants, all white, clean and folded in identically sized squares. His socks will be paired and rolled over just once at the top. My hand is lingering over his bag when he comes into the room.
‘Do you want me to unpack for you?’ I ask.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ he says, coming towards me. ‘There doesn’t seem to be much point in unpacking really,’ he says, carefully taking out four white shirts in cellophane and eight pairs of freshly washed underpants.
‘Oh, why’s that?’ I ask. ‘Are you going away again?’
‘I’m probably going to need to go back to Japan if we get the contract. It’d be great if you could come too . . .’ I feel my insides tighten as he looks at me, before he continues, ‘It’s okay, I understand . . .’
Except he doesn’t – not really. He tries to, but how can he when I can’t even work it out myself. ‘I thought you said I didn’t need to go,’ I say, my mouth suddenly dry. ‘You said I could work from plans if we got the job.’
He comes towards me again and pulls me into him. ‘But wouldn’t it be good to go to the site, to see it and feel it?’
I nod as he strokes my hair. ‘And when the time comes, wouldn’t you like to add the finishing touches yourself, instead of someone else rolling out the rug you hand-picked or hanging the curtains you specifically chose?’