The Forever Home by Sue Watson
Chapter Eighteen
After Mark’s threat to tell the police what happened with Mum, I had no choice but to move back and continue with our marriage. I couldn’t risk losing my children, and from then on, I kept his secret, and he kept mine. It wasn’t a marriage, it was a stalemate, but because of the TV show, everything appeared to be wonderful. And over the years, our lives were turned into an artist’s impression of us – the us Mark wanted people to see – no stormy greys, or dark steel, just light and airy and… happy, I suppose. And if I’m honest, rather than fighting it, the easiest way for me to live it was to accept what we had, and count my blessings. There were women much worse off than me. I was one of the lucky ones – and if I ever doubted that, all I had to do was watch an episode of The Forever Home.
I wasn’t unhappy for twenty-five years of marriage, it was more nuanced than that. Mark could be wonderful, kind, funny. It’s hard to explain, because it was complex and Mark wasn’t all bad, he was ninety per cent amazing, and only ten per cent villain; there was always light and shade. He wasn’t impossible to live with when he was sober and things were going well. And though I felt I had little choice, I had to ask myself, was it worth ripping a family apart, when ninety per cent of the time, life was good? And when they were young, the kids adored him. He was the fun ‘Disney Dad’, always making them laugh, bringing home gifts, waking them up for midnight feasts when he got back late from location.
There were flashes of violence, shadows on the sun, but it was rare, and I learned instinctively how not to press his buttons. What I know now is that I lived how I felt I should live. I became what others expected me to be, but I was rarely myself until the violence stopped. But still, he continued with discreet affairs, and as he grew older, he was like an addict, needing the reassurance that women still found him attractive. But I always had a thread of hope, and wondered if one day the affairs might stop too, and Mark would come back to me.
Just before he’d left, we filmed a programme that opened with Mark and I walking the South West Coast Path from Looe to Polperro. We’d gone from Honeymooners to Empty Nesters, and wandered the tiny harbour shops together, looking for accessories Mark could use for his next house makeover. It was a montage of sunshiny shots of us eating a wonderful lunch, from everything the sea had to offer. Mark was on form, he was the man I’d met all those years ago in London, and I began to believe we might have a future together after all. I realise now I was fooling myself, we could never be the perfect couple we presented to the world, too much had been said and done. But nonetheless, the years had faded the hurt, and I was filled with optimism and happiness, perhaps the man I’d fallen in love with had come back to me after all? It was just a few weeks before our anniversary, and as we’d dined by the harbour, the sun high in the sky, our future was spread out before us. I remember smiling at him, and he smiled back, putting his hand on mine. What I didn’t know, was that Erin was already pregnant.
More than a year on, I now stood at the bottom of the garden remembering, while gazing at the sea. The ebb and flow of love and life was like the tide, surging forward before sweeping everything away as it disappeared into the distance.
Eventually, I wandered back up the garden, and felt my heart flutter, catching sight of Ryan, painting the exterior walls brilliant white. I couldn’t help it, I went behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said, and turned around, slipping both arms around my neck.
‘When I said before that you didn’t understand, it isn’t because you lack understanding, it’s just all so complicated,’ I explained. ‘I’m sorry if it came out wrong.’
‘No, I’m sorry, I overreacted a bit. It’s hard sometimes to hear you talk about Mark. I know behind the scenes it was quite different, but I can’t ever compete with someone like him. He’s rich and famous and…’
‘Oh, that’s all meaningless. You’re kind and clever and young and very good-looking,’ I heard myself say, and wondered where I’d got this new-found confidence.
‘Okay, I’ll take that,’ he said, staring at me. ‘Coming from a beautiful blonde, I’m flattered.’
I giggled, and was about to continue this flirty conversation when he suddenly said: ‘Does he still have a key… Mark?’ All the softness had gone from Ryan’s eyes.
‘Er. Yeah, I think he does. But he needs access – half his stuff is still here.’
‘Yeah well, when this CCTV’s been fitted, always check the porch camera before you open the door. One night you might see him or mad Erin staring back at you.’
‘Mad Erin, eh? I’m not sure she’s mad – just a little…?’
‘Unhinged?’
‘No, misunderstood,’ I said, feeling generous.
Ryan leaned back against the wall. I was facing him, and he pulled me towards him, his arms now around my waist. He always seemed to reach for me when we talked about Mark; I thought perhaps he was a little insecure.
‘I remember moaning to Mum about what a spoiled brat Erin was, but Mum said, “She has everything and nothing.” I didn’t understand what she meant – it sounded like a riddle to me.’ He laughed. ‘My mum still talks in riddles; she’s probably being profound, but I can’t always understand her.’
‘How is she?’ His mother, Tina, had recently been diagnosed with dementia.
‘She’s okay.’ He took a deep breath. ‘To be honest – some days you wouldn’t know there was anything wrong. Then she’ll suddenly ask, “Is Ted home from work yet?”’ I saw the sadness in his eyes and my heart went out to him. The Jarvis family were good people, and Tina had been a real hard worker, helping Ted with the business, and working as a full-time childminder.
‘She’s one of those people who’d do anything for anyone, your mum,’ I said, touching his chest, a vague attempt to comfort him.
‘Yeah, she’s always happy to help. I think she misses taking in the waifs and strays, and I worry because she’s on her own. But she’s happy enough. I called in to see her yesterday. Me and Max try and see her most days now, just to make sure she’s okay. I think we may have to think about moving her to sheltered accommodation soon. I think she’s confused, and sometimes she doesn’t make a lot of sense – yesterday she told me the next-door neighbour’s a Russian spy.’
‘Oh dear.’ I didn’t know what to say.
‘Yeah, we keep telling her that Auntie Kath’s dead, but she doesn’t believe us. And last week, she called the police and told them someone was living in her attic.’
‘That’s creepy – and if it’s real to her, then it must be scary.’
‘Yes, I guess so, but the next day when I mentioned it to her, she hadn’t a clue what I was talking about, and she’s like, “Don’t be so stupid, Ryan, no one’s living in the attic.”’ He laughed at the memory, but I could see the sadness in his eyes.
‘Poor Tina.’
‘The doctor’s put her on new medication, we’re hoping that’ll help.’
‘I could call in on her if you like?’ I offered.
‘No,’ he said, very quickly, then saw the surprise on my face. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t… best not.’
I was a little crushed. ‘Okay, I just thought—’
‘It’s… difficult. I wouldn’t just drop in, you don’t know how you’ll find her,’ he said. ‘Besides, you’ve got enough crazy going on in your life without an encounter with my mum.’
I nodded. I would have liked to see Tina again. I was sure she’d love a visitor, and didn’t understand why Ryan was so against it. In my current mood, I was questioning everything and everyone, and wondered if it was because he didn’t want me to get too close. Or worse, perhaps he was afraid of what his mum might tell me about him?
The following day, I was ‘all rigged up’, as Ryan’s CCTV-installer friend Simon put it. I had a camera at the front of the house, in the porch, so I could see anyone coming and going.
‘It feels a bit sci-fi,’ I said, when Simon showed me how to access the footage from my phone. ‘I’m not sure I want to see the axe murderer as he walks up to my door.’
‘It’s not just for you,’ Simon pointed out. ‘It’s an insurance policy – for example, if that axe murderer did murder you, the police would be able to access the footage and identify him. I mean, otherwise it could be anyone and the police might never find them. According to official stats, four in ten female victims are more likely to be killed by a partner or ex-partner; they could be the ones to call the police, and be all innocent. But if they are there on film, standing on your doorstep with an axe, or a gun, then, bam…’ He clapped his hands and made me jump!
‘Oh wow, well, I guess I’m glad I’m having this done,’ I said, trying to regain my composure. This was a guy who loved his job, but his imagination was fertile – a little too fertile! He was almost too excited at the prospect of catching a killer or criminal mastermind with his cameras, and seemed to be positively hoping for an axe murderer to turn up and prove his point. I was happy to use the CCTV as a deterrent though. ‘So, if someone walked up the drive,’ I said, ‘would they know there was a camera there?’
Simon was nodding vigorously, like he’d already anticipated this question. ‘Come with me,’ he said, thrilled to take me out to the porch to create ‘a dramatic reconstruction’, as he grandly referred to it. I just hoped to God this didn’t involve any real weapons that he may have about his person, ‘for demonstration purposes’.
Once at the front door, I was then instructed to stand inside while he rang the doorbell, and I had to watch him on the monitor. I really didn’t need this ‘masterclass’, but I indulged him, as he pointed out every little facet of the equipment, until, several minutes later, I received the eventual answer to my original question.
‘If they knew what to look for, they’d know a camera was here – and might cover the lens with something, but,’ he held up his forefinger, ‘not before the camera caught them walking towards it. If they didn’t know what to look for, they wouldn’t know,’ he stated, which seemed rather obvious to me as he stood, licking his lips, waiting for my amazed reaction.
‘That’s brilliant, Simon,’ I said, trying to wrap this up. ‘Thanks for everything. I’ll just write you a cheque.’
I paid him, and he insisted on giving me a wad of his business cards.
‘Any job, any time – tell your friends,’ he said, and I glanced at the cards, which read, ‘Every breath you take, every move you make, CCTV is watching you.’ They looked like something from a Boy’s Own annual, coloured drawings of criminals being thwarted by CCTV, with Simon’s 24/7 phone number emblazoned in flames at an angle across the artwork. I was surprised there weren’t a few machine guns and an artistic array of flick knives thrown in for good measure. ‘I’ve done work for the government,’ he was saying, tapping his finger to his nose to indicate the secrecy involved. ‘Deep. State,’ he said, and I tried not to laugh. ‘I’m also head of security down the boatyard.’ He sighed at the apparent weight of this responsibility, like I’d be impressed. But it was pretty run-down last time I’d been there. ‘Yeah, I fitted all the cameras down there too, big job,’ he added.
‘That sounds amazing,’ I said, being polite and humouring him.
I was so relieved when Ryan appeared from the side of the house; this conversation could have gone on for days!
After a few high fives with Ryan, Simon eventually left, still talking as he went down the drive and into his van. Even as I waved him off, he wound the bloody window down and said, ‘What you have to remember, Mrs Anderson, is that you now have a visual deterrent to potential intruders – sending a clear message that nothing goes unseen.’ With that, he turned his van around and, on screeching tyres, sped off down the lane, leaving me exhausted.
‘Simon loves his work, doesn’t he?’ I said to Ryan a little later. He was rendering the side wall, his forehead sweaty, his shirt open, a sheen of sweat on his chest. I averted my eyes.
‘Yeah, he is a bit full on, isn’t he?’ he laughed. ‘He’s not really a mate, just someone I know from school. To be honest, I feel a bit sorry for him, he was bullied at school, and even now he gets ribbed in the pub. But his heart’s in the right place.’
‘Well, I’m glad he installed the cameras, because now if ever I see him outside here again, I won’t be answering,’ I said, rolling my eyes.
Ryan laughed. ‘I like to give him work when I can. He needs it, and you need the extra security.’
‘You’re kind, getting work for him,’ I said.
‘Sometimes people need sticking up for. “The world’s a cruel place, Mrs Anderson”,’ he said in Simon’s voice, which was slightly creepy. He winked, and continued to work on the wall.
I watched him, and I realised I shouldn’t keep wondering at Ryan’s motives for being here with me. Phoebe was just looking out for me, but I shouldn’t try and read into everything, just accept that Ryan was a decent guy. He looked after his mother, and Simon, and perhaps I was just another person he’d added to his collection.
A week later, I still hadn’t heard from Mark, or his floozy (as my mother would have referred to her). I’d left several angry messages on my husband’s phone, emailed my solicitor to inform her of Erin’s comments on TV about me allowing them to have the house and how I was deeply concerned that they may find a loophole and get her wish. I also fired off an email to Estelle, threatening ‘her client’ with legal action if discussing me on air without my permission again. I was woolly on the word of law, but I was sure there was something libellous in their conversation. Estelle had clearly been involved in their ‘script’ and was straight on the phone.
‘Carly, my darling, thank you for your message, how gorgeous to hear from you! But what on earth is all this silly talk about legal action?’ To think I’d once quite liked her, amused by her caustic wit and salty bitterness regarding anyone on screen who wasn’t her client. Now I suspected I’d probably also been at the receiving end of some of those darkly humorous remarks, and that wasn’t so funny.
‘Estelle, this isn’t “silly talk”, as you put it,’ I snapped. I was angry that she’d tried to belittle me so early on in the conversation. ‘I have agreed to tell untruths, but only because I want to keep my home. However, if Mark or his… girlfriend,’ I said, resisting anything stronger, ‘dare to say anything – and I mean anything – that we haven’t agreed on, or they are derogatory in any way, I will instruct my lawyers to throw the book at you.’ I said this with confidence, though quite unsure of the legal terms and cursing my lawyer for not getting back to me with a list of long legal threats I could repeat to Estelle. I recalled she had a nasty little habit of putting the phone away from her ear and rolling her eyes to her assistant; she was probably doing that now. ‘Are you hearing me, Estelle? One more word about my feelings, my happiness or my home, and I promise you I will come for all of you. And please tell that child my husband’s sleeping with to back off with the dead rats and the breaking in and the weird notes. If she doesn’t stop, tell her from me she’ll be sorry!’ I clicked off my phone before she could respond, feeling sick with anger, blood pumping through my body.
I leaned on the kitchen counter, exhausted, emotional, and suddenly aware of Ryan, watching me.
‘Oh… you always seem to walk in on me yelling at someone down the phone,’ I sighed.
He nodded, staying in the doorway, half leaning on the door jamb. ‘Yeah.’ He gave a nervous laugh.
‘I don’t even know why I said that, just then, about Erin… but I think you’re right, about her trying to scare me and make me move. She’s been around us so long she knows about my fear of rats.’
‘Maybe. But remember what Simon said… it could be someone you know, someone right under your nose,’ he said in a creepy voice.
‘Stop it, Ryan, you’re scaring me,’ I said, giggling nervously.
For a moment, everything stood still.
Then he smiled. ‘Sorry, I was just teasing you.’ He moved from the doorway and put his arms around me.
‘Well don’t. You could be the axe murderer Simon warned me about,’ I joked.
He gave a big sigh. ‘Hey, in other news, I came to tell you, I found more bigger cracks on the outside wall, but perhaps now isn’t the time?’
‘Tell me, I love a tsunami of bad news, just keep it coming.’
‘They’re far deeper than we thought.’
‘Great. What does that mean?’
‘It depends how deep they go – and the implications for the rest of the building. You might need an RSJ – could be a big job.’ He shrugged.
‘Obviously if it means the house is going to fall down, then I’ll have to find the money – but until the divorce is finalised, I’m a bit short.’
‘Leave it with me. I have a mate who might be able to take a look,’ he said.
‘Is he as weird as Simon?’
‘Yes, all my mates are weird.’
‘Well, they say show me your friends and I’ll tell you who you are,’ I said, with a smile, enjoying his company, and appreciating his friendship.
I’d lost several friends since Mark and I split, but I missed Lara the most. She would have been the one I’d have turned to at a time like this, to make me laugh, put everything into perspective. Even the Ryan situation was something I wished I could share with her, and Lara would have absolutely loved that drama. Over a bottle of wine, we’d have discussed the pros and cons of a younger man, and I’d have shared my concerns about trusting him.
One thing was for sure, I trusted Ryan’s security advice, and was glad I now had CCTV at the front of the house, and he’d fixed the broken hinge at the back. But my real and present danger was Mark and Erin. Did he want to recapture the heady days of The Forever Home’s success? Did Erin want to be the new cast-member in the show that had been the golden days of our youth? She was often around back then, even once appeared on the programme I thought, in the background.
I suddenly remembered something Erin once said. She would have been about seven years old and Lara had asked her, ‘What do you want to be when you grow up, darling?’
And Erin said, ‘I want to be Carly.’