Page 20 of You Were Always the One

‘Who’s the meeting with?’ I ask.

‘Meeting?’ He frowns momentarily. Then his face clears. ‘Oh. A new client. I’m taking them out for dinner.’ He gives me a slightly strange look. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason.’ I turn back to the saucepan, to lavish attention on the risotto.

I dish up supper, determined that when the children have gone to bed, I’ll initiate the conversation that’s long overdue. But as usual, it doesn’t work out like that. Grace needs help with her homework, while Max remembers at the last minute he has a science project due in tomorrow. In the event, Miles is in bed before the rest of us.

By the time my kids go to bed, I’m feeling the strain. My usual positivity is strangely missing tonight and as I sit on the sofa, the kitchen in darkness around me, I’m wondering how my life has come to this.

I think about going through the pockets of Miles’s jackets. His car, even, hating myself for even contemplating it. But the more I think about it, the temptation becomes too much. Getting the jacket he was wearing when he came in, I feel in each of the pockets. They’re empty, until I reach the last.

But as my fingers close around something, I hear footsteps on the stairs. I feel myself freeze. Then Miles comes in. In his pyjamas, he looks half asleep. ‘I was wondering where you were. Are you coming to bed?’ he says. Then he glances at the jacket I’m holding. ‘Isn’t that my jacket?’

‘Yes.’ Caught in the act, I panic. ‘I was just going to sponge it. I noticed a mark on it when you came in,’ I lie. ‘Go back to bed, Miles. I’ll be up in a minute.’

He goes back to bed, leaving me sitting there feeling guilty and ashamed; more so when the piece of paper in his pocket turns out to be no more than a parking ticket. Leaning back on the sofa, a tear rolls down my cheek. This isn’t who I am. Having suspicions, going through my husband’s pockets; how has it come to this?

‘I hate myself,’ I tell Rita the following morning. Alone, I’m desperate to talk to someone.

‘Don’t, Holls,’ she says comfortingly. ‘It shows how much strain you’re under. And don’t forget. Miles isn’t exactly helping.’

‘He’s probably doing nothing wrong,’ I say.

‘What about this mysterious business dinner tonight?’ she says.

‘It’s probably just that. An innocent dinner with a new client.’ I’m starting to feel I’m going mad.

‘This isn’t like you.’ Rita sounds worried. ‘You’ve got to talk to him.’ She pauses. ‘Why don’t I come over on Sunday? I can be with the kids. You and Miles could have some time together.’

‘He probably won’t want to,’ I say miserably.

‘For fuck’s sake, Holls!’ Rita sounds exasperated. ‘Where’s your fighting spirit?’

‘It’s gone.’ My voice is small. Then my eyes are spilling over with tears.

‘It hasn’t,’ Rita says gently. ‘It’s still in there somewhere. You just need to figure out how to find it again.’

After a quick cup of coffee, I gather myself for work. And right now, it’s a blessing, I tell myself. When I’m with my patients, I don’t think about myself.

This morning, Dora is sleepy again, which isn’t unexpected. I have a cup of tea with her daughter, but don’t stay long. But later, as I drive away, I’m unsettled. In my work, I live with the constant reminder that life is short. However, today I’m thinking of what Dora’s always said, about how wonderful her life has been. It’s a reminder that mine isn’t. Yes, I have my children. I’ll always have my children. But emotionally, I’m running on empty.

With time to kill before my next call, I drive out of town to a lake where I used to bring Max and Grace. I sit on a bench, the sun glinting on the water as my head fills with soul-searching questions, uncovering realities that, until now, I haven’t been able to face. The truth is our problems started long before Miles was seeing someone else. It goes back to when I chose to marry him, when I decided I wanted what he stood for. In doing so, I sold a piece of my soul, repressed my free spirit, let go of the sense of adventure I used to share with Riggs. And it’s seeing Riggs again that’s shown me just how much I miss that.

And there it is. The real reason I haven’t talked to Miles. Why I haven’t contrived to find the right time. The fundamental problem is that we are different people. Once I tell him how I really feel, it’s as good as saying it’s over between us.

Maybe that’s what I have to face. What our next step has to be. Maybe ultimately, it will be good, for both of us.

Honesty can be brutal – even with yourself. But it’s also empowering. It doesn’t, however, make anything easier. Nevertheless, I promise myself that there will be no more excuses. I need to meet this head-on, deal with the consequences. More importantly, I’m ready.

But of course, I don’t see Miles that evening. Then the following day, he comes home earlier than usual.

‘I decided to work from home,’ he says, heading for his study.

As Miles never works from home, I have no idea what to make of this. I glance at the clock, wondering if there’s time to talk to him before Max and Grace get back. But when I go to his study, he’s on his phone. I wait, half-listening. But ten minutes later, he’s still on the call as through the window I see the kids come back.

‘Can you try and be quiet? Daddy’s working,’ I tell them when they come in.

‘Cool.’ Grace drops her school bag and goes to the fridge.