Torn (45 page)

‘Can I come in?' Sean asked.

Her instinct was to slam the door shut, but she couldn't move it. Years of experience of arriving unwelcome on people's doorsteps had taught him to pre-empt this response. His hand was already braced against the door, his foot over the sill.

‘Please don't shut the door on me, Jess.' He wasn't shouting, he wasn't red-faced and angry. In one hand he held a bunch of chrysanthemums wrapped in clear plastic. As her pressure against the door slackened he seemed suddenly to notice her properly.

‘What the hell have you done to your hair?' The question needed no answer. What she'd done was self-evident. Why she'd done it was another matter, but he wasn't getting an explanation right now.

‘Look … can I come in, Jess?' He looked different somehow, older and more worn. Then she realised he'd lost some weight; it showed in the drawn lines of his face.

‘I'd really like to talk to you. I understand why you probably don't want me in your home and, if need be, I'll have this conversation on the doorstep, but … it would be more comfortable … and I'd like to say hello to Rory, if …'

The intense fear and anger was sifting away, replaced by something more ambiguous. By this time Jessica had assured herself he'd not been drinking and Sean sober was a very different man to Sean drunk. She stepped back and allowed the door to swing inwards.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Given the number of petals that had fallen off as she unwrapped them, Jess wasn't optimistic that the flowers would revive, even plunged up to their necks in a sink of cold water. Now, opposite one another across the table, with a mug of tea each, it was impossible not to recall and to compare with other occasions when she'd sat like this here, with other men. Scots-Irish antecedents had given Sean his colouring. Hair, still a warm auburn, was greying now at the temples, but his hazel eyes – she'd never been able to decide if they were more brown than green – looked clearer. Remembered echoes of what had attracted her to him chimed faintly.

‘I can't get over the hair cut,' he said, shaking his head at her.

‘New home, new life, new me.'

‘Certainly is,' he agreed.

‘How did you find me, Sean?' He shook his head again, smiled. ‘It really wasn't difficult, babes. You wouldn't make much of a criminal.'

With the back-up of police resources and a probable paper trail to follow she'd realised long ago he could find her if he wanted to. But after the debacle before Christmas she'd relied on him not wanting to.

‘So … why have you tracked me down now? What do you want, Sean?'

‘There's no need to get snippy. I come in friendship.' He opened his hands, palms up.

Oh, do you? she thought, cynically. ‘You can't blame me for being suspicious. You haven't exactly been making life easy for me while I've been trying to sell the flat.'

‘I was angry … and hurt. You tried to turn me out of my home.'

‘I was hurt too.' She looked straight at him; he dropped his eyes. ‘And you didn't go.'

‘I'd have had to move back to the section house. It would have been humiliating.'

‘Mummy?' a little voice interrupted. Rory was standing by the kitchen door, peeking round it. They'd walked straight past him minutes earlier.

‘Hiya, Rory! It's me!' Sean said, too loudly. Her child shrank back slightly, his cheeks flushing.

‘Come in and say hello,' she encouraged him. ‘It's Sean. I know you remember Sean. And he's come to see us.' Rory sidled in and stood behind Jessica's chair. ‘He does often ask after you,' she added to the man opposite. Though, with the passing of time, his periodic queries grew less frequent. Sean looked pleased and reached into his pocket.

‘Here. I've got something for you, Rory.'

Rory emerged cautiously from behind her, looked up into her face as if for reassurance or permission, before tiptoeing gingerly over to see what was being offered. He skipped back quickly to show her. The brightly coloured toy was bubble wrapped onto a card backing with a hook at the top to hang onto a display fitment in the shop. Both the toy and the flowers had probably been bought at a service station en-route. Still, better than coming empty handed, Jess acknowledged.

‘That's a good car, isn't it?' she said, breaking the clear bubble away from its backing, then unhooking the plastic car from the elastic loops which held it in place. ‘What do you say to Sean?' Rory turned to look at him dubiously.

‘Thank you, please, Rawn,' he gabbled in a hoarse whisper.

‘Why don't you put it with your other cars? You could count them all, and tell Sean how many you've got now?'

‘He's grown such a lot,' Sean said, after Rory had run off.

‘You probably notice it more than I do. He's starting school next week.'

‘School?! Fuck! I can't get my head round that! Christ! He's a baby still.'

‘He's just turned four.'

‘I suppose he has. Even so …'

‘He'll be young in his year, so he's only doing half days for the first term, but yes, if they're in their fifth year then it's school. No getting out of it.'

‘Amazing how fast time flies by.'

‘Particularly when you've a young child.'

‘He's a great kid. A credit to you.' Sean still seemed bemused by the speedy passing of Rory's childhood years. He stirred the tea then looked up at her as if sorting out his thoughts. ‘Jessica, are you happy here … now?'

‘What a question! I'm a lot happier than I was.'

‘Jess …' He looked down into his mug of tea again, then out of the small window which gave onto nothing more interesting than the lean-to. ‘Jess, babes … I'm sorry, really sorry about what happened … I was drinking too much.' He had apologised before, over and over again. His maudlin protestations of regret and shame were almost as difficult to handle as the events which triggered them. ‘Sorry' was easy to say. And though she didn't doubt he meant it at the time, his commitment to the promise ‘never to do it again' was always short lived.

‘I was jealous.' This was new. His abject apologies had always come with the implication that she was the provocateur in all their rows. It had somehow never been his fault, even if he was ashamed of his conduct later. ‘I thought if I could only get some money. All I needed was that one big win. Then we'd be all right.'

‘We were all right! We didn't need any more money.'

‘But it was yours. I resented it … you.'

‘Why?'

‘Being cleverer than me, more successful. You always made me feel … no, that's not right … you didn't make me. It was my problem. I felt a failure. I wanted you to look up to me, be grateful to me, but there was always this bit of you, you held aloof, held in reserve. Like … you thought you were too good for me, you didn't really need me. Even when you were at home, just being a mum to …'

‘I never thought that. I
was
grateful to you and I did need you.'

‘At first maybe. But you stopped. And I couldn't bear that. Then I couldn't rid myself of the image of all those guys you'd put out for –'

‘Before I met you! And in the early days you couldn't care less. It was one of things I really liked about you.'

‘But it bugged me more and more. Kept running like a blue movie through my brain. Look,' he sighed. ‘My fault, my obsession. I'm not blaming you, babes, honest.'

‘Where's all this coming from, Sean?'

‘You're surprised I'm not ranting and raving and smacking you about a bit? It really hurts, you know? That that's what people expect of me. And you're not the only one. Towards the end I was seeing other women and treating them just as badly.'

This was something she'd neither known nor suspected, but it fitted.

‘But, I know now I've got to face up to what I've done, how I've messed up. And I've got to take responsibility for my own failure in life and relationships … before I can achieve closure and move on.'

Achieve closure? He was sounding more and more like someone who'd been through counselling.

‘So, what's brought you to this point? What's happened?'

‘Apart from losing my job?'

‘Oh, Sean! You didn't!'

‘Yep. Pitched up drunk for my shift once too often. But it's OK. Was probably the shock I needed. The
extra
shock I needed. I've been driving mini cabs since, and doing a bit of security work. And going to AA and Gamblers Anon. It's been quite a revelation. There are so many worse off than me. I really think, believe, I've kicked it this time. And now I'm feeling better –'

‘You're looking well,' she interrupted truthfully. He might be looking thinner and a bit tired, but it was a big improvement on what he had been. He'd been in good shape when they'd first got together, a time he'd been on the wagon she recalled now, but by the time she left he'd begun to look bloated, eyes yellow and shot with blood, the perpetual hectic flush of the drinker veining nose and cheeks.

‘Thanks. I've lost a lot of weight. Been going to the gym when I get the chance. But look, there's some things … some unfinished business I want to sort out.'

Jessica drew in a breath, hoping against hope he wasn't about to ask again for a share in the sale of the flat, or worse, to get back together.

‘Don't worry. I'm
not
about to make a pitch for us getting back together. I know it's not on. But I thought … I'd just like to clear the air and tell you face to face that I'm moving out of the flat. I'm not going to block the sale any longer. I'm moving on.'

She exhaled. ‘Thanks, Sean. That's brilliant. I'm really pleased. So? Are you planning to buy a place?'

‘In London?' he scoffed. ‘Just ‘cause I've given in doesn't mean I don't think you could have been more generous.' The challenge was unavoidable. So there was something left still of the old confrontational Sean.

‘You don't honestly expect me to back down now after I've held out this long? You've been living rent free all this time, and you stole from me, Sean!'

‘Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that one. You know I was always planning to pay you back.' He rubbed his eyes. ‘I've not come for a showdown. Just saying … a bit of a nest egg would help just now. I've got plans. New start. Completely blank canvas. Fresh slate. Another country. Canada, I thought. I've got relatives there.'

By the time Sean was about to leave, the surveyors had long gone. He picked Rory up and gave him a hug. Her son arched back, cheeks flushing an even deeper pink. Apparently unaware of Rory's rigidity Sean pointed out his car. He had parked at the end of the long line of other vehicles, but now they were all gone it looked odd and forlorn at the bottom of the lane. It was the same car he'd had when they'd been together and it wasn't new then.

‘It's a Mercedes. Have you got a Mercedes in your car collection?'

Rory wasn't sure, but proclaimed, ‘I have got forty cars in my car box!'

‘Forty!' Sean said, sounding deeply impressed. Jessica guessed it was probably more like fourteen. Sean set him down on the ground and he immediately retreated behind her skirt.

Sean looked at her again. ‘Well, I guess it's goodbye. I'll let you know where I am, what I'm doing. If you're interested, that is.'

‘Of course.'

His eyes suddenly creased up, appreciatively. ‘You know, I'd never've expected to like your hair like that, but it suits you. It's kind of … raunchy. What about the men in your life? Bet they like it, don't they? Do they think it's sexy?' He leant forward to kiss her but she turned her face and he kissed her cheek. Rory pulled his hand back out of reach when Sean offered his to shake. There was a momentary shadow of regret in the man's eyes.

‘Bye then. See you,' he said, as he left the house then turned at the gate again, to wave and to shout out a final goodbye. As she watched Sean stride almost jauntily down the lane Jess wondered if he would stay on the wagon this time. And if not, how long before the fall?

‘Bye bye, Rawn,' Rory muttered quietly. And when he was confident that ‘the man' was far enough away he pulled at her skirt. ‘Mummy, Rawn
has
got a very loud voice. And my new car is silly! The wheels falled off.' It began to rain.

Her son had attended nursery for nearly a year. Jessica was used to leaving him there and Rory was happy to be left. So, the impact upon her of his first day at school should surely have been defused? She was wrong. Perhaps it was her exclusion from the experience which hurt; she'd always been welcome, even encouraged to stay on at Cherubs. Now she was expected to abandon her child in this totally new environment, with no influence or right to intervene. Perhaps she was hurt because this was ‘proper' school, a threshold which could not be retreated from, the beginning of a new phase in his growing up.

Jeans and jogging suits had been abandoned. He was dressed in his new smart uniform, shoes shining, new backpack hung over small shoulders angular with apprehension. In nursery he'd been one of the big boys; now he was one of the youngest and looked so small, so vulnerable compared to some of the bruisers who pushed their way past him in their scuffed trainers, jackets half hanging off, hair on end. It was raining so he and his new classmates were gathered up swiftly into a flock around the reception class teacher, who held a large golf umbrella over their heads while she counted them. As she shepherded them away from their mothers and into the school he turned, once, to look back at his. The desolation which engulfed Jess as she watched her son disappear through the door was unexpected and almost overwhelming.

‘It's only natural.' Gilda had come around for coffee and been a sympathetic recipient of Jessica's woes. ‘It's Rory's first real step away from you, his sole carer. I was sad to see Sasha go into school that first morning. James and I took her together, but I don't think I felt it like he did. It's different for me. I've already been through it.'