Everything and Nothing (17 page)

Ruth left. The day was much, much too bright and too many people were ambling along as though they had nothing particular to do and it was going to be another of those enjoyable days which you roll through so they become nothing more than a fuzzy impression of what your life is like, rather than a proper memory. Ruth felt insulted as well as sure that she was going to faint and she didn’t want to do it in public. She hailed a taxi and gave her home address. On the journey she had the presence of mind to ring the offi ce and say she had been suddenly struck down by a terrible headache. The woman who made the call was quite impressive, a calm ordered voice which so belied the crashing ocean in her mind.

She hadn’t let herself cry in the taxi so by the time she was putting her key into her front door her eyes were aching with the effort of holding back the tears. Betty would still be at school and she hoped Hal wouldn’t see her. There was laughter coming from the kitchen but the door was nearly closed, so Ruth couldn’t see what was going on. She contemplated going straight upstairs but knew that was too weird so instead she called out to Aggie. The laughing stopped instantly.

Aggie’s red face appeared round the door. ‘Ruth, are you okay?’

‘No. I’ve got a monstrous headache. I just wanted to let you know that I’m at home, but I’m going to bed. Would you mind not telling Betty I’m here and not letting Hal up? Sorry, but I’ve got to sleep.’

‘Of course, that’s fine. Can I get you anything?’

‘No, no.’ Ruth had her hand on the banisters, she was maybe only a few words away from her bed. ‘I’ve got stuff upstairs. I need to sleep. Oh, and if Christian calls, tell him I can’t talk, I’m asleep.’

‘Okay, well, shout if you want anything.’ And then she pulled her head back behind the door and Ruth wondered why she hadn’t properly come out or why Hal hadn’t tried to see her.

Ruth’s bedroom looked different already and not only because it was so neat and clean when she’d left it such a pit that morning; she was used to that. Aggie had asked Ruth a few weeks before if it would be all right if she made their bed and cleaned their room. Why would I mind? Ruth had asked, but also why would you want to do it? Aggie had laughed, I hate walking through the house and knowing there’s a mess anywhere, she’d said. I know it’s odd, but I’ve always been the same, I used to tidy up after my mum when I was little. So now Ruth lived in almost hotel cleanliness and perfection, which was of course wonderful, yet at the same time somehow . . . what was the word, strange, disconcerting, wrong? It made her feel beholden to Aggie, made her feel that the girl knew too much about her, that she’d got too far in.

She dropped her bag where she stood and kicked off her shoes, allowing herself to fall onto her bed. She wept with an abandon that would have put Betty to shame. I just need to get this out, she thought to herself, and then I can think about all of this properly. Except the tears didn’t stop and the self-indulgence felt right this time. Every thought was a new and painful experience which pushed salty water out of her surely by now swollen tear ducts. She felt miserable that Christian could have thought so little of her that he could allow this to happen again, that he didn’t even feel the need to tell her of his plans. She hated the thought that her children were going to grow up only seeing their father every other weekend, that they would have to watch him living with brothers and sisters to whom they felt disconnected, that they would always feel second best and that this would in some way influence their future relationships. She didn’t want to share them out like a box of chocolates at Christmas and birthdays and in the summer holidays. She never wanted to hear them tell her about the food Sarah cooked or what colour their bedrooms were in her husband and his new wife’s home. She mourned the loss of love in her life. She couldn’t face the thought of pulling herself together and re-packaging herself on a dating website and then all the plucking and waxing and low lighting that it would take to get her naked in front of anyone ever again. Or getting to know another man’s body so that it felt warm and comfortable. She didn’t want to know about someone else’s past, she didn’t want to meet any more parents or sets of friends, listen to more moans about jobs that weren’t perfect.

Her phone rang from her bag and she raced for it. Christian’s name flashed on the screen and she itched to answer, but she wasn’t ready yet. If she spoke to him now she would want to hurl abuse when she needed to get a handle on why he had done this. She would probably only have the right to speak to him like he was her husband a few more times and she needed to find out as much as possible in those conversations. She did not want to be left with those nagging, gnawing questions which would eat away at her, giving her an ulcer or something more serious. Because, once he had left, that would be it, they would have to resort to clipped pleasantries as he stood in the hall waiting for the kids to be ready. She would watch his body through his clothes, knowing how it felt, yet with no right to remember any more. She dialled the number for his message.

‘Ruth, where are you? She’s mad, I promise you. I had no idea she was coming to see you. It’s all bullshit, we haven’t been seeing each other. Ruth, I love you, I’m not going anywhere. Please call me so we can talk. We have to talk.’

At first Christian’s words were like a balm, like a hand rubbing her back so that her tears reduced themselves to a short catch of breath in her throat. She started to dial his number, but then began to wonder. He must have spoken to Sarah to know she had come to see her. Which meant that they were at the very least in contact. He had hidden all this from her, he had betrayed her simply by uttering one word to that girl again. So it couldn’t all be bullshit. They had been seeing each other, even if it wasn’t in the way she had imagined. And of course the physicality of anything was important for Christian, but it didn’t mean that much to her. It was the fact that he had been able to forget her for long enough to have a conversation with Sarah, to maybe meet her for a drink, to lie and lie and lie again. She heard his pompous voice shouting into her phone that he loved her and wasn’t leaving and she wanted to scratch his eyes out. It was not enough to say those words, to state what he was going to do as if she had no say or she’d be so grateful he hadn’t been fucking his secretary again she’d lie down and let him trample all over her for a second time. Now she knew what she wanted to say.

He picked up in one ring. ‘Ruth, where are you? I’ve been worried sick.’

‘I’m at home. You didn’t look too hard.’

‘I’m on my way back now.’

‘No. Betty will be home soon. I’ll meet you somewhere. How about St James’s Park? It’s right by your work.’

‘Okay, if you want to come over here.’

‘I don’t want to be anywhere near home. I don’t want to ever be reminded of the conversation we’re about to have.’

‘Ruth, nothing’s happened, she’s mad.’

‘Seriously, Christian, shut up. This isn’t up to you any more. I’ll be there as quick as I can.’

Aggie had been shocked when she’d heard Ruth’s voice from the hall. It had been a physical sensation, like someone had dropped a stone into her stomach, sending little rings of panic through her body. She hadn’t felt like that for a long time and it wasn’t nice. Hal had just started eating his lunch; fish fingers and carrots from the garden, even a spoonful of peas, which was a new taste she was road-testing. They were laughing at the fact that a green, round pea had the same name as what you did after you’d drunk too much. Then she’d heard Ruth calling her and for a second she’d wondered if she’d gone back to hearing things when they weren’t there, but no, Ruth called again. Aggie’s immediate reaction was to hide Hal’s plate in a cupboard but that would be too confusing for him and could put his eating right back. Should she go into the hall and shut the door behind her or would that make Ruth suspicious and Hal nervous? In the end she motioned to Hal to keep quiet and stuck her head round the door, like she was in the middle of something important. As soon as she saw Ruth though she realised she needn’t have worried as the woman was obviously ill; she was as pale as snow, her eyes were red and raw and her shoulders were hunched as though she was trying to fight off a deep pain. Do you need anything? Agatha had asked. But all Ruth had wanted was to be left alone. Don’t tell Betty I’m at home, she’d said, and don’t let Hal upstairs.

Agatha shut the kitchen door on her and gathered Hal onto her lap, helping him spoon his food into his mouth.

‘Mummy,’ he said, looking up at her.

She kissed the top of his head. ‘Yes, my love, that was Mummy. But she’s gone to lie down, she’s not feeling well.’

‘Mummy,’ said Hal again, burrowing his head into her neck.

You didn’t realise that breaking hearts existed outside of songs until you had children. Memories rushed at her of her own mother lying in her bed, the thick curtains drawn against the day, telling Agatha to keep the noise down, she had one of her heads. But I want to show you my picture from school. This must never happen to Hal. Agatha felt this like a round boulder in her stomach. He was too kind and trusting and tender, he would not be able to cope with all the disappointments and rejections.

‘Hal,’ said Agatha now, ‘what if you call me Mummy? Just as a joke and only when we’re alone. But we could pretend I’m your mummy and then you wouldn’t have to ever miss her again.’

‘Mummy,’ said Hal again, looking up at her and smiling. It was obviously what he’d meant all along. She smiled at this. They understood each other, her and Hal, like no one else in the world.

He looks just like you, a woman in the park had said last week, and Agatha had smiled and pushed Hal a bit higher in the swing. It was easy if you remained calm and polite and didn’t tell an outright lie or try to strike up a conversation with anyone which could tie you in knots. It would have to be only her and Hal, there wouldn’t be room for anyone else, anyone to wheedle out the truth and disapprove. But that was okay. It had been only Agatha for so long now it would be a pleasure to share her life with someone and she couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather be with than Hal. Which was not something she could imagine Ruth ever thinking.

Sarah rang Christian at eleven thirty, as he was about to go into a meeting about whether or not to sack the presenter who couldn’t seem to speak properly. He let it go to answer and didn’t remember to listen to the message until lunchtime.

‘I’ve done it, Christian, and Ruth was fine. She did seem a bit shocked and she said she’s going to make your life a fucking misery, but you couldn’t expect much else I suppose. But anyway, none of that matters, ’cos she said she’s not going to stand in our way. Isn’t that amazing? Call me as soon as you get this.’

Ruth often said inexplicable things to Christian like, I feel dizzy or The world is spinning too fast or I can’t seem to get a grip on life. But in that moment he not only understood what she meant but experienced all of those shape-shifting feelings that make you realise life is never going to be the same again. He immediately rang Ruth but Kirsty told him she’d gone home sick. He was about to call there when he thought he’d better find out what he was going into.

He left the office to call Sarah.

‘Christian, did you get my message?’

‘Yes. What did you say to my wife?’ He wanted to punch her. The sensation rose up in him so violently and yet so unexpectedly that he stumbled.

‘Why do you sound like that?’ she asked.

‘Tell me what you said, Sarah.’

Her voice was unsure. ‘I said what we’d agreed. You know, about how this couldn’t go on and you felt too guilty to leave, but that it was my turn now.’

He couldn’t keep the shout down. ‘What we agreed? When the fuck did we agree that?’

‘Last time we met.’ She was crying now and she disgusted him. ‘I said I couldn’t wait any longer, Christian, I said I was going to tell Ruth and you said you’d call the next day but you didn’t, so I did what I said I would.’

Christian pulled at his hair. The madness was all around him, palpable, fucking everywhere. ‘How dare you come into my life and think you can turn it upside down. We haven’t even done anything. This is fucking mad.’

She was weeping now. ‘But you promised. You said.’

‘I didn’t promise anything. Shit, this is such a mess.’

‘She’s going to leave you and then what will you do?’ Christian’s head loosened. ‘I’m not going to let her leave, and even if she did I would never end up with you.’ He put the phone down but it was without conviction. He knew he had handled everything wrong. Some of the things he’d said to Sarah swirled in his body like the cigarette you smoke at the end of the night which refuses to leave your lungs. Something was not ringing true. His righteous indignation did not feel righteous.

He left Ruth a message and she eventually rang him back and agreed to meet him, but something about her tone told him that he had a long, long battle ahead. He was starting to believe he’d got it all wrong and his life was going to slip through his fingers like nothing more than a bucket of sand. Something had tricked him, some malevolent external force had made him believe he wanted things that were as flimsy as the tail on a firework. He had been blinded by bright lights and tripped up by misconceptions, none of which were true.

As he sat on a bench waiting for his wife he remembered making a phone call when he was a young teenager and being connected to a call that was entirely not his. Two women talking. He had been mesmerised by them. He had sat and listened to their conversation which had drifted over so many subjects he’d wondered how they knew such things. A recipe for a cake for a daughter’s birthday, news on the other’s piles, an update on a brother’s heart attack, the worry of a husband who found it harder and harder to get out of bed . . . Christian had been let into their private world, had been allowed for a few minutes to share in their innermost being, to be part of someone else. But then one of them had said, Can you hear something? And the other had said, Yes, like someone breathing on the line. And he’d lost his nerve and put the phone down. And then they were gone and he hadn’t asked them anything, they would never even know he existed. Those women had stayed with him all his life and yet it was only now, in the middle of watching his life being sucked down a black hole, that he realised why he had never forgotten them. If only he had understood before this moment. If only he had been clever enough to learn their lesson. If only he had realised what they taught him: that life is lived in the minutest details. That every emotion is within touching distance, hiding under the sink or in the garden or round the corner. He’d spent all this time looking off into the distance while happiness eluded him right under his nose.