The Younger Wife(31)
‘I’ll let you off with an official warning this time,’ Sonny said, and disappeared out the door.
Tully sank back into the pillows. She had almost forgotten how great Sonny was. People always reminded her, of course. Sonny’s so great! So good with the children! Such a caring husband! Just an all-around good guy! Lately, when people said it, Tully felt resentful. What about me? she wanted to cry. I’m great! Why is everyone always talking about Sonny? But they were right. Sonny was great. It was just that, when you’d been married a while, you tended to forget these things.
With that thought in her mind, Tully stretched out and fell asleep in a matter of minutes. The next time she woke it was 10 am. Not noon, but a very nice sleep-in for an old goat like her. Her mouth still didn’t taste right, but her headache was gone and she felt more human than she had four hours earlier. Best of all, there was no small child bouncing on her mid-section. She closed her eyes again, planning to doze for a bit longer, when suddenly she remembered her bag, and lurched upright.
It was a rookie error. Last night her bag had been jam-packed with things – a candle, a silk scarf, a single shoe that she’d swiped from a boutique around the corner. And Rachel’s salad servers. She felt particularly bad about taking those. She was going to return them – today, if she could find her bag. But where the heck was it?
She found it half wedged under Sonny’s side of the bed – bulging, but still zipped. Thank God. Usually, Tully stored any goodies she’d acquired in the garage as soon as was reasonably possible. It was, after all, not unusual for Sonny to rifle through her bag – for keys, a ringing phone, a breath mint. How horrible it would have been for that to happen this morning of all times, when Sonny was being so lovely. How would she have explained it? After all, she was far too hungover and pathetic this morning to come up with a lie.
She bundled all the items into her bedside table, making a mental note to move them to the garage when Sonny left the house. In the meantime, she thought a shower might be a good move. She padded across the carpet into their ensuite bathroom, and got the water going nice and hot.
When she emerged several minutes later, Sonny was sitting on the edge of the bathtub.
‘If you’re hoping for shower sex, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,’ Tully said. ‘I could barely stand up in there.’ She reached for a white fluffy towel and wrapped it around herself. ‘Why is it so quiet? Did someone die?’
‘I gave the boys a Kit Kat and an iPad each. I even put Miles in a nappy so he wouldn’t need us to take him to the toilet.’
‘Bloody hell. You’re much better at this parenting thing than I ever give you credit for.’
He gave her what started as a smile but turned into a grimace halfway through.
Tully’s brain was working so slowly it took her a minute to compute that this wasn’t normal. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just got off the phone from the real estate agent.’ He exhaled, looking at his hands. ‘The house is officially on the market. They’re sending photographers this week. And those people who . . . you know . . . stage the house.’
Tully sat down on the edge of the tub beside him. It wasn’t unexpected; Sonny had already said the house would need to be sold. Still, there was something about this next step that felt like a sharp kick to the kidney.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Well, that’s that, then.’
‘God, I’m just so sorry, Tul,’ he said. ‘I know this is your dream house. And the boys . . .’
‘It’s not my dream house,’ she said, scooting up beside him. ‘At least, it’s not my only dream house. My dream house is wherever you and the boys are. As for the boys, do you think they give two hoots what kind of house they live in?’
Sonny looked unconvinced. Admittedly, Locky did have a taste for the finer things. When they went to Fiji last year, he’d located a button by their beach loungers that summoned the waiter. When the waiter arrived he ordered hot dogs and waffle fries and vanilla milkshakes. On the flight home, they’d asked him what was his favourite part of the holiday was and he’d replied, ‘The button.’ But now was not the time to focus on that.
‘I’m sorry, Tul,’ Sonny said again. ‘I’m just so sorry.’ He was hunched over. After a moment, he dropped his head into his hands. ‘I have a headache,’ he said.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said, putting an arm around his shoulders. ‘It’s really not that bad.’
‘Daaaaad!’ Locky called. ‘Miles has taken another Kit Kat, even though I told him you said we could only have one.’
Tully stood up. ‘I’ll go. You take some Panadol and get yourself together. It’s all okay, Sonny. Really.’
Tully pulled on her dressing-gown and gave him a quick kiss. On her way out the door, she felt a stab of optimism. If things were good between her and Sonny, she could handle this. This wasn’t just going to be fine; it was going to be better than fine. They would live simply for a while, that was all. If they did ever get back to a similar financial position, Tully would find charities to donate to. Perhaps she’d start volunteering her time at the local charity shop? There was so much more to life than shopping and going out for lunch. She’d end up so much more fulfilled. She actually couldn’t wait. Most important, she was going to stop stealing. This was just the shot in the arm she needed to make a change. This whole thing had been a blessing in disguise.