Everything and Nothing (24 page)

‘I feel odd.’

‘What did you mean?’

‘What I said.’ He stared into the bluey, shifting blackness, allowing his eyes to get used to it. ‘I am sorry, Ruthie, for the things I said. I know it’s bullshit to keep apologising about Sarah, even though I am sorry. And I get it, you know, about how whether or not I physically did anything with her is irrelevant. If you give me another chance I won’t ever put you through anything like this again. I’m going to be a different man, better, I promise you.’

‘I’ve heard your promises before.’

‘I know you have, but now I can see that I didn’t mean them. I thought I did, but I didn’t, not properly.’ Ruth didn’t answer and he weighed up whether he should say the next thing to her. ‘I called Sarah today to apologise for all the things I said to her and for letting her believe, well, anything about me. Her dad answered and he called me a pompous twat and said he hoped you’d leave me and that I’d end up lonely and miserable.’

‘Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?’ Christian could tell Ruth was making an effort to keep her voice neutral.

‘Of course not. I mean, I don’t know, I’m trying to be completely honest. To show you that I’m not going to hide anything from you again.’

Ruth sat up at this, hugging her knees to her chest, and Christian thought she looked so fragile he could probably snap her in two with one hand. ‘You don’t expect me to forgive you tonight, do you?’

‘No. But please don’t make me leave, Ruth. I can’t bear to not come home to you and the kids. Let me stay and prove all of this to you.’

She turned to him now and he could see she was crying. He was desperate to hold her but he didn’t dare. ‘I’m so tired, Christian, I feel drained. And I know I say that a lot. You’re not the only one who’s been thinking.’ She pulled a breath into her body. ‘I’m sorry, too. I know it’s not all you, but I don’t know if I can forgive you a second time, I don’t know how it would make me feel about myself. There’s so much going on in my head at the moment, not all about you . . . ’

‘What else?’

‘My job, but Hal mainly. And Aggie. I can’t put my finger on it, but I don’t like her.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, I think I’m going to ask her to leave. I know it sounds absurd, especially now, but I’m not comfortable with how she is with Hal or how he is with her.’

‘Why haven’t you spoken to me about this?’

‘I’ve tried, but you’re so dismissive. You make me feel like I’m mad.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Christian knew this to be a legitimate accusation, but still wondered how getting rid of a perfectly capable nanny made any sense right now.

‘But of course you and Aggie can’t leave at the same time, it would be too confusing for the children.’

‘I think we should look at everything. I’m not sure we’re living in the right way.’

‘The right way?’ Ruth made a hollow sound. ‘You sound like a
Viva
tagline.’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘Not really. If you know the right way to live you’ll solve all our problems.’

‘Okay, but don’t you feel maybe we’ve got it wrong?’

‘You know I do. I’ve been saying it for years.’

‘Ruth, please give me another chance. Let’s try to sort this out together.’

Ruth lay back down as heavily as her slight body allowed and the atmosphere shifted, so that Christian knew he had misjudged some aspect of their exchange. ‘God, you’re annoying,’ she said. ‘We’re not closing a fucking television deal here. You can’t talk your way out of it.’

‘I’m not trying to get out of anything, Ruth. I’m trying to make it better.’

‘Don’t you think it might be a bit late for that now?’

‘I hope not.’

‘I’ve been bloody swimming upstream all on my own for fucking years now. Dragging everything behind me while you prat around on the bank having fun and now you’re suddenly all serious, like you’ve got all the answers and you expect me to go, Oh, okay, Christian, stay, help us all out of this shit hole. It’s been what, a few hours, since you had your grand awakening and you expect me to believe that’s it, a new you.’

‘I don’t expect . . . ’

‘Actually, shut up.’ Ruth sounded angry now. ‘I’m tired and it’s our son’s birthday tomorrow. I need to sleep.’

Christian let her roll away from him. He knew better than to pursue the argument tonight. At least he’d said part of what he meant.

Agatha felt anxious when she woke at six the next morning. She had spent most of the night in the tiny box room going over and over all her preparations. Mentally repacking the knapsack that was hidden in the airing cupboard, containing all her possessions, plus most of Hal’s, and both their passports. She was unsure how water-tight her plan was and worried by how long the media coverage might continue. She envisaged months of hiding themselves away. Months of not returning any looks, of crossing the street from penetrating eyes, of checking over her shoulder before letting them into their home, of flitting into the night, of jumping every time a policeman turned the corner. And all this whilst keeping Hal happy.

It had been wrong to stay for the party. Agatha hated the fact that she had misjudged this. She thought she had stopped making the wrong decisions years ago and she prided herself on her ability to suss out a situation and mould herself to it successfully. Naturally this way of life always had a limited time span, but moving on was never hard. Agatha had nothing but contempt for the Donaldsons now. She remembered with incredulity how she had felt about them when she’d first arrived; how she had allowed herself to believe they weren’t as fucked up as the others, how she had even fantasised about making herself so indispensable that she would stay with them for ever, becoming some coherent part of their family that none of them could imagine doing without. But no one was indispensable, which was yet another reason why it was okay for her to take Hal with her tomorrow morning.

With her thoughts more ordered, Agatha felt the anxiety loosen its grip enough so she was able to get out of bed. It was coming up for seven when she got into the kitchen and the house was completely still and quiet. She had planned to slip out at six the next morning, telling Hal that they were going on a birthday treat adventure. The quietness gave her a surge of confidence, she could have at least an hour’s start on them all, probably longer. You could easily get a train to the coast in that time. You might even make it on to a ferry before the police had been called.

Agatha sat at the kitchen table and waited for the house to wake up. It infuriated her that everyone would saunter around this morning, like nothing important was happening at three. She knew Ruth and Christian wouldn’t do anything to stop the children spilling cereal and that they’d drop coffee granules on the floor and toast crumbs on the table. Agatha would have to sit there, holding in her anger, while they all casually trashed her cleanliness, without even apologising. If she had the power she would ban them all from the house until five minutes before the party was due to start.

Betty was the first person to appear. Agatha liked her best first thing in the morning, subdued and fuzzy round the edges. She got the little girl a bowl of cereal and a mug of juice and made herself a cup of tea and they sat together, not talking. Agatha realised that she would miss Betty, but not so as her heart would feel stretched like it did when she thought about her own sister, Louise. Walking away from her parents had been easy, but Louise had nearly been enough to make her stay. Not that her sister had shared the feeling. She was three years older than Agatha and spent most of the time they were together telling her how stupid she was. Harry once told Agatha that he’d chosen her over Louise because Louise was too feisty. She hadn’t understood the word at the time, but she’d still known enough about life to see the irony in the fact that the first thing she’d ever beaten Louise in wasn’t worth winning.

Agatha had googled Louise the previous year and had been surprised to see that her sister was on Facebook. The knowledge was like a worm burrowing into her brain because she could only see a picture of her sister and a few lines of text. Agatha could never be on Facebook, even though it was her perfect medium, the one way she would be able to connect with the outside world and be just like all the other people sitting behind their screens, editing their life and playing make-believe. In the photo Louise was standing in front of a glass door which Agatha thought looked like an important offi ce. She was wearing a pink coat and her hair was long enough to blow across her face, making her smile out at whoever was behind the camera. Agatha had spent too many hours trying to see beyond the picture, but it was hard to see her sister so out of context, looking happy and successful.

She still looked at Louise as often as she could, but the picture now scared her as it made her realise that her family had continued on without her all these years. She hadn’t expected them to exist in limbo, but still it was galling to see her sister so obviously full of life. One day, many years away, she was going to take Hal to see them and give them the shock of their lives; Agatha had done something useful for once.

When Agatha had first arrived in London seven years ago, with nothing more than the clothes she was wearing and a few hundred pounds she’d saved or stolen, she used to scan any missing poster she came across. Or watch those shows on the telly with people looking for relatives, as if everyone was trapped in a swirling vortex pulling you away from those you loved. She longed to see her own face staring out at her, hear her parents begging her to contact them, her mother too weak to talk and her father red-eyed as he made the statement for both of them. Even Louise would be there, huddled into their mother, saying that life wasn’t the same without her sister and she’d do anything to get her back. Whatever you’ve done or whatever trouble you’re in, we don’t care, come home, we can sort it out. That was the sort of thing the other parents said on their appeals. It was not the sort of thing Agatha could imagine her own parents saying. And then, when she’d looked at Louise’s photo on the Internet, she’d realised that all her hoping had been a waste of time because they’d probably never bothered looking for her or even wondered where she was. Why can’t you be nice, Agatha, her mother used to shout at her. Nobody likes a liar, you know. If the truth be told, they’d all probably felt a surge of relief when she’d finally gone.

Ruth walked into the kitchen carrying Hal and for a second Agatha didn’t know where she was. How had she not heard him? Betty immediately started jumping up and down, singing Happy Birthday, but Hal looked bemused.

‘Can we open his presents now?’ Betty was shouting.

‘I don’t see why not,’ said Ruth. ‘They’re in the sitting room. Go and get Dad.’

Agatha was pleased with her present. She’d spent ages thinking about what to get him and when she’d come up with the idea it had seemed perfect. She’d gone to the Early Learning Centre and bought a pop-up tent. It was just right because it meant that Hal would be able to have his own space to retreat to wherever they were. It had been one of the first things Agatha had noticed about Hal and one of the first things to strike a chord with her. Often life seemed too much for Hal and that’s why he spent so much time in the plastic house in the playroom. Ruth and Christian thought it was something to do with the house, but Agatha could have told them it had nothing to do with the place, it was the isolation Hal craved. Since she had let him dictate his own life a bit more and started removing him from situations which were too loud or chaotic, he’d stopped needing the house so much. Which was another reason why they shouldn’t have stayed for the party.

By the time Agatha got back downstairs with her present the whole family was in the sitting room, all in their nightclothes, watching Betty open Hal’s presents. He was sitting on Ruth’s lap, curled into her, unable to give the right or any response to the gifts that Betty was shoving in his face. Next year was going to be very different; Agatha tried to catch Hal’s eye to let him know this, but he wouldn’t look up.

After he’d had all his family presents opened, Agatha stepped forward and handed over her offering.

‘Oh, Aggie, that’s so kind of you,’ said Ruth. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

She hated Ruth. How could the stupid woman think she wouldn’t get Hal a present? It made her want to scream right into her face: I spend more time with him than anyone else, I know him better than you do, he likes me the most.

Betty snatched the present out of Agatha’s hand and ripped it open. ‘Look, Hal,’ she was shouting, ‘it’s a tent, it pops up, look.’

‘It’s a portable one.’ Agatha felt her voice fading against the tide and momentarily had to put her hand to her head to stop the spinning. Ruth’s father stood up to take a photo, blocking her view and sending out a flash of light which seemed to bounce around the room. Agatha heard a pop and lots of laughter as the tent opened. Betty was first in, shouting for Hal. Ruth’s father was taking more pictures and Ruth and her mother were having a loud conversation about the new curtains Ruth had put up a few weeks ago. Then Hal started crying and no one seemed to notice. It’s too much for him, Agatha wanted to say. She stepped forward, but as she did so Christian did the same. Hal looked up, he saw them both and then he put out his arms for his father who lifted him up and took him out of the room.

Agatha slipped out behind them. Christian was taking Hal upstairs and he already seemed calmer. She turned and went into the kitchen but it was too cramped and she could still hear all the noise from the other room. Agatha unlocked the back door and went into the garden. She walked barefoot across the still-damp grass and stood by the vegetable bed. Vegetables poured from this patch of ground, they ate them nearly every day and they tasted like the sun which made them grow. Agatha studied the sturdy plants bursting out of the soil and remembered the day when they had planted the seeds. The day which had properly made her fall in love with Hal so that everything about him became relevant and his whole being filled her head. She stared until her breathing returned to normal and she stopped seeing the white flashing lights at the edge of her vision. It’s okay, she told herself, it’s okay. One more day and then we’ll be gone and we won’t even have to remember any of this if we don’t want to.