Abigail: Chapter 3

My tummy rumbled as I got back in the van and I decided I’d done more than enough work for one day. Besides, I knew that when I got home I’d spend the next little while typing up my notes, just like I did every day. I had a shocking memory and details were important. If it wasn’t written up it didn’t happen, that was my rule. It’s just a shame the kids couldn’t learn from their mother’s example. I’d lost track of the number of late nights I’d spent with one or both of them as they caught up on long overdue projects. I couldn’t be too hard on them though. After everything we’d been through it was little wonder they weren’t more messed up than they were.

As I headed home I thought about how much my life had changed in such a relatively small amount of time. Two years ago we’d been the perfect family unit. Him working all hours and me with my plumbing business to keep me out of mischief, such that it had taken me longer than it really should have to even notice anything was wrong. The truth is, I wasn’t looking for the deception. With hindsight of course it was blatantly obvious, but not to me, not right there and then. Naive fool that I was, I’d believed him when he said he had an overnight stay in Doncaster or Durham or any other of the faceless places he’d mention. And so what that he often came home smelling of other women’s perfume. He was a tactile guy and most of those tarts wore so much of the stuff, you’d have to be a total loner not to end up carrying some of it home with you.

Until the day I brought Louise home early with a toothache. The school had phoned me on my mobile and I hadn’t thought to pre-warn him and so it was that we walked into the front room to find him stark naked on the sofa, his pasty white buttocks dancing about like something possessed, writhing on top of a blonde tart from the office. I didn’t wait around long enough to catch her name. Poor Louise. I simply turned myself and Louise around and headed straight back out the front door, slamming it loudly on my way out. By the time he caught up to us I was already knocking on Julie’s door.

“What are you going to do?” The panic in his voice had torn at me, just briefly. For all his faults he’d always been a good dad but whatever I did next, he’d brought it on himself, I remembered.

“Get lost! And take the tart with you.”

I left Louise with Julie, who took great delight in fussing around her with offers of chocolate biscuits, then went back to the house. The tart was long gone but Jonathan was still standing in the front room looking pathetic.

“Charlie I …”

“I don’t want to hear it. I can’t believe you would do something like this. And in front of Louise. Are you crazy?!”

“But I …”

Before he could say another word I took him by the arm and led him to the front door. “Bugger off!” And with that I slammed the front door behind him.

I went round the house and bagged up all his belongings, waiting until his car had gone, and then took them to the nearest charity shop. The woman behind the counter looked like she might cry when I handed over iPads and his entire CD collection. The locksmith was waiting for me when I got back and by home time he’d changed all the locks, handing me a shiny new set with a smile and a business card.

Jonathan had begged and pleaded with me to change my mind and when that hadn’t worked he reverted to angry but no matter how much he railed against the unfairness of the situation, I’d held my ground. ’Til death do us part, we’d vowed, but turning a blind eye to a bit of skirt on the side definitely hadn’t been a part of the deal.

I turned the key in the lock and gave the door a shove. “Hello?” I listened for the girl’s voices and was instead greeted with the sound of feet coming down the stairs.

“Mum! You’re home!” Louise appeared first and gave me a hug.

“Hi love, how was your day?”

“Great! Grace is in a right strop though.”

“Why, what happened?” My heart sunk. If Grace was in one of her moods it was going to be a very long evening. I’d never met twin sisters who were so different. Both the girls had times when they missed their dad but for Grace, it was almost like she took it personally. And it was totally my fault of course.

“Dunno. You know what she’s like.” 

Not wanting to appear to take sides, I decided not to say anything. But yes, I did know exactly what she was like. I just wished there was something, anything, I could do about it.

I smiled at my daughter. “Come and see what you fancy from the freezer for tea.” Gordon Ramsey I was not but I offered a great range of bake in the bag fish (cook from frozen, obviously) and my chips were to die for.

With the oven preheating I decided I could put off facing Grace no longer. I climbed the stairs, listening for sounds of life from her bedroom but the door was shut. When knocking gave no response I pushed the door open gently and poked my head round the door.

“Hi Gracie, I’m home.”

“Well obviously,” came the reply from a heap in the middle of her bed.

“You going to come down and have some dinner? What do you fancy?”

“Not hungry.”

“You need to eat something love.” I sighed. We went through this routine daily. “Did you have a hot meal at school? How about a sandwich or something?”

When she didn’t reply I took a couple of steps into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. Peeling back the covers I came face to face with a headphone covered scowl. I smiled and wiggled my eyebrows at her and after what felt like a lifetime, she gave the barest hint of a smile in return. I mentally whispered a thank you to whichever gods were apparently watching over me that day. The crisis was over and normal service could resume.

“So what will it be?”

“I’ll have a sandwich in a bit. Thanks Mum.”

Content that the rest of the evening could proceed happily, I left her to it and turned my attention to the oven, thankful that we’d used up our quota of domestic disputes for the day. Fingers crossed.