The Forever Home by Sue Watson
Chapter Thirteen
The next day when Ryan turned up for work, I felt rather awkward. It was hard to judge how he was feeling. If he was embarrassed about the kiss, he didn’t show it, but stayed outside all morning, and didn’t come into the house.
By late afternoon, when I hadn’t seen him, I thought he must be avoiding me. He probably regretted what had happened between us. I felt so bad; I’d told him so much, too much, about Mark and our marriage, and I remembered what Jake said about not telling Ryan everything. Jake was right – my kids were often wiser than me these days. I felt such an idiot, and wondered if Ryan had picked his brother up last night and laughed about what had happened.
Just before four when I was in the kitchen washing up, there was a knock on the door that made me start. I turned and saw Ryan standing there, and felt a rush of adrenaline course through me.
‘Hope you don’t mind, but I’m leaving earlier tonight,’ he said, no twinkle in his eye, no sign of the slight dimple in his cheek that emerged before, or in place of, a smile.
‘Yeah, of course, up to you. It’s all great,’ I said, trying to hide my devastation. The kiss had meant nothing; he wasn’t interested in me at all.
‘It’s just that… a storm’s been forecast. I’d like to get home.’
‘Of course,’ I said, knowing a storm would not be something that scared Ryan Jarvis. He’d spent his life by the coast: surfing, sailing in boats, he’d travelled the world. It was probably just an excuse to get away before I offered him any gin and he’d feel obligated to kiss me again.
After he’d gone, I sat for ages by the big window looking out at the Atlantic. The sun had disappeared, leaving a cool, grey mist; the little glimpses of the summer to come were fleeting and fragile. I wrapped a woollen throw around me, warmed my hands on a big mug of coffee and in an attempt to shake off any pointless feelings I may be developing for Ryan, I thought about Mark. We’d had plenty of phone calls in the six months since the night of the party, some angry and shouty, some more calm and considered, but seeing him made me realise I was finally beginning to accept what had happened. With someone like Mark, this ending to our story was inevitable. It was my fault as much as his for putting up with the way he behaved, and, in the end he’d done me a favour, I was so much happier on my own. I couldn’t deny that the frisson of having Ryan around had helped, but now it looked like his presence was going to be an awkward embarrassment until he’d finished working on the house.
I stayed on the sofa, watching the sea turn from pale grey, to charcoal, to black, and I reminded myself that the only person who had my back was me. I didn’t need any man. I was so much better without. Mark had made a complete fool of me, and if I’d cared about myself more, I’d have seen it sooner and moved on a long time ago.
I was startled out of my reverie by a call from Phoebe. ‘Hey, Mum, are you okay?’ she asked. She’d been busy at work, and I hadn’t spoken to her for a couple of days. ‘Jake called me last night.’
‘That was nice, he came over yesterday to collect some of his books, but then he forgot them. I texted him; he said he’ll be back again for them. I think he just wants to keep popping home,’ I said, smiling.
But then she explained that Jake had told her about the sand on the living room floor, and she sounded concerned.
‘Oh, we worked it out. Ryan had been using this plaster that… dries as sand,’ I lied, ‘and he’d walked it in without realising that’s what it was.’
‘Ryan Jarvis?’
‘Yes,’ I said, as innocently as I could. ‘I told you, he’s doing some work for me.’ I felt my face go very red and was glad she wasn’t there to see it. Phoebe would have known straight away that something had happened, even if it was just a kiss. Most likely she’d be mortified.
‘You don’t think he’s gaslighting you, do you, with the sand?’ she said, laughing.
I laughed too, rather awkwardly.
‘We worry about you, Mum,’ she suddenly said.
‘Well don’t, I’m fine. You know what Jake’s like, he’s always been so protective. He worries when there’s nothing to worry about, and then he calls you and you worry.’
‘Jake said Ryan’s very much at home there.’
‘Oh darling, my goodness, I never allow the help in the house, what do you take me for?’ I said sarcastically, in a Home Counties accent.
She laughed. ‘Yeah, yeah, but you don’t want him to get too comfy.’
‘Perish the thought,’ I said, remembering the warm dampness of his lips on mine.
‘Mum, you know what I’m saying. The Jarvis boys have a reputation, and you’re going to come into some money when Dad’s US deal goes through.’
‘Oh Phoebe, Jake’s completely misread the situation and built up quite a picture. Ryan’s just working on the house, and he’s doing a great job, whatever his reputation locally,’ I said, pretending to brush this off, but wondering if he might be a gold digger; he seemed very interested in hearing all about my life with Mark a couple of nights before. And I came back to the same feelings that he was young and good-looking and what did he see in me – was it money?
‘Just don’t want you at the mercy of some sweet-talking penniless builder,’ she said, laughing. ‘The last thing you need now is some weird, dysfunctional fling with a much younger guy.’
My heart sank. Was that how it would look to everyone? That I was some sad, deranged woman who’d been dumped by my husband and was now being taken for a ride by the local gigolo?
‘I remember Ryan Jarvis,’ Phoebe was saying, ‘he’s very easy on the eye, and you’re a lonely divorcee.’
‘I’m not divorced yet, your father’s still dragging his heels on that one,’ I said, which gave me the opportunity to change the subject. I told her that her dad had been to visit, then regaled her with the encounter with Erin in the tearooms. I hadn’t planned to tell her about that, but needed to talk to someone about it, and was keen to stay off the rather awkward subject of Ryan.
‘You are kidding me, how dare that… that… nasty little cowspeak to you like that! Honestly, Mum, I could throttle her,’ she hissed. ‘I hate her so much… I mean, who the hell does she think she is, saying that shit to you?’
‘Don’t worry, I gave as good as I got, and—’
But she was furious, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as angry. ‘I’m going to call Dad now, and tell him exactly what I think of him and his little—’
‘No, no, love, I’d leave it for now,’ I said, attempting to calm her down. ’Dad’s going to have a word with her,’ I lied. ‘Let him sort her out.’
‘Hmm, well if she says anything else to you, ring me straight away and I’ll sort her out,’ she spat.
I loved the fact my children were both so protective of me, but I didn’t want them worrying about me or fighting my battles. I was the grown-up. I would take care of things.
Later that night, I received my ‘instructions’ from Estelle, Mark’s agent. Her email was curt and to the point, telling me that I had her sympathies, but we now had to ensure that anything that may have happened wasn’t twisted by the press.
I’m sure you will understand, the US deal is almost inked, and we need to think ahead. The announcement is imminent, and we all need to be together in this, in order that the deal goes through. Mark’s image is that of a wholesome family man, and despite recent events, it is in everyone’s interests to maintain this narrative both on social media and to all members of the press. As you know, the media can be unforgiving, as can the viewers – and unfortunately, if not handled correctly, could mean Mark losing lucrative contracts. With Mark’s approval, I have therefore written a press release, including a comprehensive list of answers you may require, if questioned by the press.
She was always a bit sniffy, old Estelle, and positively resented some of her clients – particularly the female ones. Anyway, to cut a long email short, Estelle and Mark had come up with quite the story. Apparently, as a former art student with a brilliant career predicted, I’d grown tired of playing second fiddle to Mark, and despite us both loving each other and having two beautiful children, I’d decided I wanted a divorce. Mark, was, according to the press release, the most amazing, caring husband who’d always respected my talent. He was also grateful for the sacrifices I’d made to raise our children while he worked.
‘With much love and kindness between them, Mark left the marital home some months ago in order for Carly to pursue her career. “Carly allowed me to chase my dreams, and I agreed to leave so she can chase hers,” Mark said.’
I shook my head; they were unbelievable, making me look like some spoilt wife who threw him out so I could paint pictures, whilst ensuring Mark looked like a bloody hero.
‘Mark has since formed a relationship with Erin Matthews and the two decided to settle down and try for a family. To their joy, they are about to welcome a baby boy any day now. “What began as a heartbreaking time for me has turned into something amazing,” Mark said. “This is my second chance at love; Erin has saved me.”’
I wanted to vomit. It read like a Mills and Boon, all love, heartbreak and joy. Unsurprisingly, there was no mention of Erin’s age or the fact Mark used to babysit her. I didn’t want to fight; if I objected, Mark would be difficult over the settlement. And then there were our children to think of: if their mother’s dignity was intact and their father’s penchant for younger women was somehow made slightly more respectable by being something he only indulged in after he and his wife had parted, then perhaps it was a good thing. I also thought of Lara. She had clearly been devastated about the whole business, and I know how I’d feel if it was Phoebe. I wouldn’t want her name dragged through the mud for having an affair with a married older man. It couldn’t be a proud moment for any mum, and Lara had known Mark years, so his shortcomings weren’t even compensated by his celebrity or his building work. So I told myself I was going to let this go, not for Mark, not for me, but for my kids, and my once best friend.
I then went to bed, but barely slept and, at about 3 a.m., went downstairs to make some tea. I put the kettle on and, while I was waiting, looked out the big glass windows.
It was raining hard and was difficult to see anything else beyond the blackness. I could make out a tree, moving in the wind, but my own image was clearer, so I did an inventory of myself. I didn’t look too bad. I was still fairly slim, and in spite of Erin’s nasty remark about my hair, my hairdresser had said I looked ten years younger with my new haircut. Ryan said he liked it too.
Ryan.My heart sank; what was his game? Having come on quite strong, he had clearly regretted it and I was surprised at how disappointed I was about that. I suppose my ego was hurt, the ego I was currently trying to nurture back to health after its recent bashing.
Phoebe’s gold-digger comment had given me food for thought too. If my own daughter thought someone like Ryan would only be interested in me because I might, some day in the future, get some money, then it was probably all a bit mad. Perhaps, like everyone else, Ryan thought because I’d been married to Mark, I was rolling in it. And, come to think of it, he had asked me a couple of times how much the house was worth, which I thought he was asking as a builder, but now made me wonder. Maybe it was just as well that he’d gone cold on me, but I didn’t want any awkwardness while he finished off what he was doing.
What had happened between us was probably far bigger for me than for him. Ryan probably kissed a different woman every night, whereas I hadn’t kissed anyone but Mark for over twenty-five years. To me, the kiss had meant something, but to Ryan I was probably one of the many middle-aged divorcees for him to toy with. Well, not this one, I thought. I wouldn’t be played. I’d spent my adult life being manipulated by Mark and those days were well and truly over. And, to quote Phoebe, the last thing I needed now was some weird, dysfunctional fling with a much younger guy. However attractive he might be.
I poured boiling water on my teabag and breathed in the deep, sweet, earthy aroma of camomile. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them, there was someone looking in at me through the window. Suddenly two hands appeared on the glass, palms flat. I couldn’t move.
My whole body was shot through with adrenaline. I felt sick and dizzy. My vision was blurring and I couldn’t make out who was there, but I saw the face closer to the window. My grip loosened on my coffee mug, and it dropped to the floor with a shattering smash. The next thing I knew I was falling, putting my arms out to stop myself.
Then nothing.