The Girl I Used to Be(80)

“I like the idea of it more than the reality.”

“Me too,” he said. “When will you be back?”

“Not long,” I said. “A couple of days.” And then suddenly I found the courage to be open with him. “But, Joe, we need to talk about things. I’m not happy with the way things are.”

There was a strained silence. “You’re not happy with us?”

“Of course I am. It’s just work. It’s not working out, the way it is. Not for me. I can’t do it much longer.”

“What? You can’t work?”

“I can. Of course I can. But it’s not how I want to live.” I struggled to stay calm. “I miss Rory. I’m . . . I’m jealous of you.” I could hear that he was about to speak and hurried on. “I feel outside the family. As though I’m just there to bring in the money.”

“Oh, now . . .”

“Don’t. Let me say this. Sometimes I feel it’s like you and he that are the family. That’s what I see. He turns to you first. You always know what’s best for him. I hardly see him some weeks. I’m up before him a lot of the time and I have to work most nights after he’s gone to bed. I’m so tired.” I couldn’t stop the tears. “And I love the way you are with him. It’s great. But I love being with him, too. I want to do things for him.”

“But you do! He looks forward to you coming home all day.”

“But when he cries now, he goes to you. I’m his mum! He should be coming to me!”

“Gemma, sweetheart, don’t be daft. We’re both his parents.”

“I know. I’m just saying I want things to change. I don’t want to work nonstop. I want to be part of his life. I’m happy to work, but . . .”

He said nothing. I had no idea what I was even thinking, but then I blurted out, “Why should it always be you at home and me at work? Why shouldn’t I be at home some of the time? Why can’t you go out to work as well?” I knew this would hurt him. I knew he’d think that I was criticizing him. But once the floodgates were open I couldn’t stop. “Sometimes you make out like I don’t know my own child! I feel like a spare part in the family.”

And then I couldn’t stop crying. I heard a knock on my bedroom door and my mum looked in.

I grabbed some tissues from the box on the bedside table. “I’m on the phone to Joe,” I said.

She gave a quick sympathetic nod and quietly closed the door. And then I realized that she thought I was talking to him about the night of the party and that made me cry even harder, that I couldn’t talk to him about that. Not now. That would have to be done face-to-face.

“Just a second, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said to Joe.

“I’ll wait.”

In the bathroom I tried to calm down. I rinsed a flannel in cold water and pressed it against my burning eyes. I was glad I’d told him. He needed to be told.

Back in my room, Joe said, “Gem, we need to talk about this. Talk about it properly. I knew you were tired. I’m really sorry. I hadn’t thought about it.” He was quiet, and then said, “You must hate me.”

“Of course I don’t. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” I lay down and it was as though he were next to me. “Right from the moment I saw you. You saved me.”

“I love you, too.” I could almost hear his mind racing. I knew he’d be going over what I’d said. I should have said it before. “And I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I should have noticed you weren’t happy. We’ll sort something out.”

I felt then that we would, but of course there was a whole other story that he knew nothing about. That I’d have to admit to. I couldn’t do it that night. I just couldn’t. I knew the time was coming when I’d tell him everything. I just hoped he’d be able to forgive me.





SIXTY-TWO


    GEMMA


Friday, August 18

I WOKE LATE the next morning and found Rory and my dad having breakfast in the garden.

“This is my second breakfast!” said Rory. “I had one with Granny when she got up, then one with Grandad when he got up.”

He came over to me and sat on my lap, leaning back until his body was aligned with mine. He stroked my arm with his hand while he told my mum and dad in great detail what he had planned for the day, and then he wriggled round until he was facing me and whispered in my ear, “Are you coming with us, Mum?”

I whispered back, “Do you want me to?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Of course I will.”

As we got ready for the day ahead, packing up a picnic and spare clothes for Rory, I thought of Rachel in her apartment with David last night. Had she challenged him? Was she safe? Despite everything, I wanted to contact her but I didn’t know whether David would be with her. I couldn’t risk that, for her or for me.

And while we sat in the car and sang songs with Rory, and as we walked on the beach and built a sandcastle with him and raced down to the waves and ate ice cream and chased the gulls, I thought of her again. She’d married David thinking she’d have a new family, but yet again, she was alone. I didn’t know whether she had any cousins or other relatives who could help her get through this, but it seemed as though her role as caregiver to her mum had meant she was pretty isolated.