When I finally creep back into the house, I find Mum alone on the sofa, sitting in the dark room. She’s not angry with me. She holds out her arms, and I sit beside her, and she holds me close and tight and weeps into my hair. ‘I’m sorry, I am so, so sorry,’ she says over and over. ‘It’s not what I wanted for you.’
I don’t cry. I rest my head against her warm shoulder. It’s soft, comfortable: I could close my eyes and sleep for a hundred years.
‘Where’s Dad?’ I ask her.
‘Sleeping,’ she says. ‘He’s exhausted. It’s not easy for him either, you know. One day you might begin to understand.’
‘Can you tell me?’ I ask. ‘Can you explain what happened, what went wrong?’
She stiffens slightly. She sighs heavily. ‘It’s very hard to say, exactly. It’s happened over such a long time, so many years. And we still love each other, always will, underneath all the horrible stuff . . .’
It doesn’t make sense to me. How can she say that?
‘And it’s all come to a head, because he’s met this . . . this person, but she isn’t the real reason for us going our separate ways. Not really.’
‘What is, then?’ I ask.
Mum sighs. ‘The differences between us. The lost sense of a common purpose . . . the way we stopped talking, really talking I mean. The way we both gave up on the other, stopped wanting the very best for each other . . .’
She talks in a sad, loving way about Dad’s isolation, his lost sense of self. How can it be too late, when she can talk about him like this?
‘And along comes someone who offers a fresh start,’ she says. ‘A chance to begin anew, without any of the past hurt or the baggage that’s inevitable in a long relationship. Like being offered a lifeline, a chance to be different. I can see how irresistible it might be.’
She doesn’t sound angry now. Just sad and resigned. It’s almost unbearable.
‘Who is she?’ I ask.
‘Someone at work,’ Mum says. ‘Younger than him. Pretty, I suppose, in an insipid sort of way. Definitely unencumbered.’
‘What does that mean?’ I say.
‘Well, free. Single, and no children.’
Me, Bonnie and Hannah. Encumbrances.
It’s an odd word for Mum to use.
‘What will happen now?’
‘We’ll go back home at the end of the holiday as planned. I guess we’ll have to sell the house. I’ll buy something new, for us to live in. Me and you, I mean. Hannah and Bonnie too when they want to stay. You can see Dad whenever you want. I suppose he’ll move in with the woman.’
She won’t say her name.
‘It hurts too much,’ Mum says. ‘It’s horrible, all of it. For us all. But please try not to worry too much, Kate darling. It will be all right, in time.’
‘No, it won’t,’ I say. ‘Nothing can ever be all right ever again.’ I disentangle myself from Mum’s arms.
I walk slowly up the stairs. The room is moonlit, waiting for me. I lie in the silvery light, tears trickling down my face, feeling my heart turn to stone.