Beneath the Skin(86)
‘I know that now,’ she whispered.
Mike stands, walks to the aisle of the church and genuflects. It’s a mark of respect, nothing more. The black dog has gone, replaced with something else he can’t quite define. A soft lament, perhaps. Something lost which was never his to lose.
He sees the marble face of Our Lady as he turns away. Just to chat, he explains to her inwardly. A small prayer that I’ll see her. Just to chat. To see if she’s OK. That’s all it would be. I promise.
‘Another day another dollar,’ Sami says as he strolls on to a busy building site carrying his hard hat. He’s trying to be upbeat. To talk the talk, to walk the walk and all the other stupid sayings that regularly pop into his head to mask the fact that he’s lonely, pissed off, pining, angry, disappointed and hassled, to name but a few.
The hassled part is his mother, his bloody mother. He’s stopped calling his dad to avoid her interrupting on the phone, but she seems instinctively to know when something’s amiss.
Except when I was a kid at school, he thinks, still mildly resentful. When I needed it most.
Martha has taken to telephoning Sami at home at various times in the evenings. ‘Doesn’t Sophie answer the telephone any more? Could you put her on? I just wanted a little word.’
Of course she doesn’t want a little, medium or big word with Sophie; she can’t stand her. The fact that his wife and his mother loathe each other has always been best ignored. It’s preferable to float above conflict, otherwise one gets embroiled. Embroiled isn’t good. Embroiled means heavy discussions, angst, emotion and decisions. The sort of shit that’s messing up his head right now.
‘What’s happening with the IVF?’ Martha asked last night. He doesn’t want to think about the bloody IVF. He agreed to it for Sophie. For his bloody wife who fucked off when she should’ve been there at the funeral. Who should be at home now. Fending off his mother’s questions, preparing him questionable food and laughing with him. Just being there, keeping him happy.
‘Call her! Just call her!’ one inner voice cajoles.
‘She was the one who walked out. She’s the one who must beg to come back!’ the other voice shrills.
He wonders what his dad would do. The latter, naturally. What about Mike? The former, definitely. But at least Mike will listen to Sami’s point of view and talk it through. He decides to give him a call after this job and to arrange a pint before home.
There are times, like now, that Sami’s self-punishing thoughts touch on what he’s done to Mike, his friend, his good loyal friend. But if words like ‘betrayal’ and ‘disloyalty’ loiter, they’re soon boxed away. ‘What the eye doesn’t see’ has always been the rationale. ‘Only guilty if you’re found out.’ And he’s never been found out; he’s lucky that way.
Wanting what he can’t have has always been a problem for Sami, but it’s sorted now, he’s over that blip. Besides, things have worked out pretty well. Olivia seems happy, Mike’s ignorant of it all and they have another kid on the way. So there’s no need to let it peck his head like today, no need to go there.
Sami puts on his hard hat, as ever careful not to mess up his hair. He imagines having not just one but three noisy and demanding kids under his feet and he shudders. Sami likes his space. Rather Mike and Olivia than him any day.
‘Guess what?’ Antonia asks.
She can see Rachel’s reflection in the dressing-table mirror. There’s a frown of concentration on her pretty fresh face and her mouth is slightly ajar as she struggles to twist Antonia’s thick hair into a French plait.
‘I’ve got a part-time job in the village.’
She’s been offered three mornings a week at Alderley Boutique, covering for one of the stylists who’s on maternity leave and she’s thrilled. ‘At a hair salon. Maybe I’ll have to practise on you, Rach!’
‘That would be ace. You could dye it for me. Dip dye or red streaks. I’m not sure which.’
‘I don’t think so. Your mum would kill me.’
It’s a teacher training day tomorrow, so Rachel has been allowed a sleep-over at White Gables. Though Antonia’s grief is tainted by occasional thoughts of Misty, she still misses David enormously, often crying in her dreams, waking up with a wet face, so lonely, so lonely. So she’s thrilled to have Rachel’s company. Olivia dropped her off at the top of the drive after school, climbing out of the car, waving and shouting a thank you with a friendly smile. Not a huge bump, Antonia noticed, but Olivia’s belly had a definite curve.
‘Anyway, Rach, you have gorgeous hair. Don’t ever mess with such a beautiful colour. It’s dark chestnut, like your dad’s.’
Antonia averts her eyes from her own face watching back through the mirror. It gives too much away when she mentions him. Perhaps Mike will collect Rachel tomorrow, perhaps he’ll come in for a coffee and chat like they used to. But Antonia knows he won’t. She messed up, she messed up badly the day after the funeral, the day Rachel broke the news about the new baby.
She was curt. She sent him away. Then she thought about him constantly for the rest of her day with Rachel, angry, disappointed and missing him badly. They didn’t speak when he returned to collect Rachel. He waited for her in the car and then turned it around in the driveway to leave. Antonia stood at the door, waving them away. Then the car stopped and Mike climbed out and walked towards her, his face dark and obscure.