The Forgetting(5)

I say the name silently in my head, over and over, hoping the cadence of it will trigger a memory, or at least the echo of a memory. But there is nothing. Just a vast empty space where my memory must once have been.





LIVVY


BRISTOL

Leo’s head rested against Livvy’s clavicle, his cheek warm with sleep from his afternoon nap. Across the bedroom, Dominic folded newly ironed shirts with meticulous precision before placing them – buttons up, arms tucked beneath the chest as if on the shelves of a high-end tailor – into his suitcase.

‘What’s the traffic looking like?’ Livvy’s voice affected nonchalance even as the minutes until Dominic’s departure ticked loudly in her ear.

Dominic grabbed his phone, checked Google Maps. ‘Not too bad. Just under three hours. I know it’s not ideal, heading off on a Sunday afternoon, but I think it would have been too risky, leaving tomorrow. In future, I promise I’ll go at the crack of dawn on Monday morning.’

Livvy shook her head. ‘Don’t be silly. It makes sense to go this afternoon. The last thing you want is to be late on your first day.’

Dominic raised a playful eyebrow. ‘Anyone would think you’re not going to miss me.’

‘Of course I’m going to miss you. It’s going to be horrible without you.’ She swallowed against the thought of five days and nights of solo parenting. Dominic hadn’t even left yet but she could pre-emptively sense how empty the house would feel without him.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant. I know how hard it’ll be looking after this one by yourself all week.’ He stroked the top of Leo’s head. ‘You’re being amazing. I know I couldn’t have taken this job without your support. And I don’t want you to think for a second that I don’t appreciate it.’ He held Livvy’s gaze. ‘I promise you can have a lie-in until lunchtime every weekend, okay?’

Livvy laughed. ‘I’m not sure Leo will sign up to that.’ She handed Dominic his book from the bedside table – a collection of philosophical essays by John Gray that he’d been ploughing through for weeks – and watched him slip it into the side pocket of his suitcase.

As Dominic squeezed the collection of toiletries into his washbag, Livvy recalled him telling her about the job eight weeks ago. He’d been so excited by the offer of a four-month contract as senior structural engineer on the building of a new out-of-town supermarket in Sheffield and she’d understood immediately that it was a big role, too good an opportunity to turn down. They knew the weekly commute from Bristol would be challenging, but Livvy still had another four months’ maternity leave before returning to work, and they’d both reasoned that if he was ever to take a job away from home, this was probably the best time.

‘So what will you get up to while I’m away?’

Livvy flicked through the week in her mind, reassuring herself that she had sufficient activities to anchor her time. ‘Baby sensory class tomorrow and playgroup at the children’s centre on Thursday. I’ll see Mum and Dad a couple of times, and Bea’s coming over for dinner on Wednesday. You know my family – they’ll all rally round.’

‘Right, of course. Give them my love, won’t you?’

There was the slightest strain in Dominic’s voice, as though his words were being squeezed through the holes of a sieve, and Livvy silently berated herself for her insensitivity.

It had been their third date when Dominic had confided in her about his estrangement from his family. Livvy had been chatting breezily about her closeness to Bea, and about how much she loved living ten minutes away from her parents. Dominic had fallen silent, colour draining from his cheeks, and Livvy had paused, asked what was wrong. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s just hard, hearing about other people’s happy families.’ He had stopped abruptly and Livvy had encouraged him to continue, asked him what he meant. He’d looked at her intently before the story had emerged. ‘I didn’t have the happiest of childhoods. My dad was . . . a bit of a tyrant. Everything had to be done his way. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know that the best way to survive was to keep silent and hope he didn’t really notice I was there. He made my life a living hell. And my mum was no help. She never stood up to him, never tried to protect me, even when he was violent.’ The bitterness in Dominic’s voice had been sharp, astringent. ‘I haven’t seen them for almost thirty years. The day I left for university, I knew I’d never go back. I’ve barely had any contact with them since.’ He had paused, shaken his head. ‘I never tell anyone about this usually. I don’t know what’s come over me today.’

Sometimes, when Livvy looked back on that conversation now, she saw it as the first major turning point in their relationship: the moment their trust in each other had been cemented. It was as though Dominic had offered her a cross-section of his deepest traumas and had faith that she would handle it with care.

It hadn’t been until three months later, when Livvy announced her pregnancy, that Dominic had confessed the reason he’d resisted becoming a parent until then: his fear that, in having a child, he would inadvertently become his own father. And yet Dominic was fantastic with Leo: loving and affectionate, engaged and nurturing, wanting to pass on his passions and interests to their son even at Leo’s young age.