The Inversnecky

Maggie looked up. ‘You made it.’

‘Yes,’ Ros shrugged out of her coat and dropped onto the seat opposite. ‘Didn’t even have to make an excuse. When I checked my timetable, I saw the kids had PE last thing, so I did a runner.’

Following their conversation in the playground, they’d meant to meet for coffee, but one or other of them had been forced to call off. When, finally, they’d made a firm date, the Inversnecky, a short drive along the Esplanade from Seaton School, had seemed the ideal venue. Until, that is, Maggie recalled it was where she’d sat with a car-load of small boys on the fateful evening she’d learned of their involvement in the desecration of a corpse. She stowed the thought away. That’s ancient history! Italian owned, the café was an Aberdeen institution, somewhere she and George had shared many a cuppa, a plate of fish and chips or, on a fine day, a dish of ice cream.

A young waitress approached, order pad at the ready. ‘What can I get you?’ She smiled.

‘Pot of tea,’ Maggie said decisively. ‘I’m gasping.’

‘For two?’

‘Diet Coke for me,’ Ros said.

‘How are things?’

‘Oh,’ Ros breathed a sigh. ‘Same old.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. It’s not as if we have blazing rows. It’s just,’ she brushed a hand across her brow, ‘this constant drip-drip of criticism. Seems no matter what I say or do I’m in the wrong.’

‘Have you challenged him about it?’

‘Yes. In the beginning, at least. Before Max was born, that is, I used to stand up to him, fight my corner. But he’d throw it back in my face, twist it round so I didn’t know whether I was coming or going. Then, if that didn’t work, he’d play the IQ card: how men are more logical, all that.’

‘Has he ever been physically violent towards you?’

‘Physical? Oh, he’s physical alright. We used to have great sex. Sometimes I ask myself if that’s the main reason I married Nic. But even that’s gone downhill recently. But violent? No. Quite the reverse. He’ll sulk, sometimes for days, but he’s never lifted a finger to me,’ Ros uttered a contemptuous laugh. ‘Doesn’t have to. He has such a way with words. He’s so smart, Maggie. So quick, I gave up fighting in the end. After that, I decided everything probably was my fault: the cock-ups, the breakdowns in communication. I’ve been so tired, you see. Doesn’t help when it comes to making rational decisions.’

‘No.’ Maggie extended a comforting hand. ‘But you’re not alone in that. We’ve all been there,’ she offered, with a flutter of recognition: over the passage of time, she identified more and more with this troubled young woman. ‘How about your friend Fiona? What does she have to say?’

‘I get short shrift there.’ Wry smile. ‘Fiona doesn’t see eye to eye with Nic. Nor he with her, come to that. He thinks she’s a bad influence. A rabid feminist, he says.’

‘And is she, do you think?’

‘Not a bit. She’s pretty forthright, though. Tells it like it is. Says he’s a selfish prat. That I’m shouldering the heavier workload. But, then, she and Stuart don’t have kids. Plus, there’s the Scottish thing.’

Maggie raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘Fiona says serves me right for marrying an English git.’

Maggie chuckled. ‘That’s not very PC.’

‘I know. And I wouldn’t have taken her remark on board, at first. But now…’ She broke off, a look of misery on her face. ‘Now I can see where she’s coming from.’

‘I gather they really don’t get on.’

‘No.’ Ros made a face. ‘You’d think Nic would listen to someone in his inner circle, wouldn’t you? Stuart and Fiona are our closest friends. Our only friends, really, in Aberdeen. Other than you,’ she quickly added. ‘Nic and Stuart rub along well enough. But, then, they have to, they have work in common. And we get on fine as a foursome. We might not always agree, but it’s just friendly banter. When it comes to me and Fiona on our own, though, Nic makes all sorts of excuses why we shouldn’t meet up. So much so I’m beginning to think he doesn’t want me to see her at all.’

‘Sounds like he sees Fiona as a threat.’

‘Well, they do seem a bit…’ She struggled to find the word. ‘Confrontational at times.’

‘Don’t you have other friends?’

Ros brightened. ‘Of course. But the crowd from school and uni are all over the place now. Scattered to the winds, you might say.’

‘How about here, in Aberdeen? Other mums?’

Ros rolled her eyes. ‘I wish. There’s a bunch of women at nursery, congregate in the family area. They seem a jolly lot, and not unfriendly. It’s just I’m always in such a rush, trying to fit in a shop or whatever after school. I tend to cut it fine, and then I daren’t hang about. Nic likes me to have Max fed and settled before he gets in.’

‘What about your parents?’ Maggie queried. ‘Couldn’t you take a break? It often helps to put some distance between…’

‘Not a good time. Mum hasn’t been well. I wouldn’t want to bother her. Or Dad, especially since they weren’t that hot on Nic in the first place. What I’m really saying, if I’m honest, is my pride won’t let me. And it’s not as if I’m nineteen. I’m a grown woman, Maggie. I have to sort this out for myself.’

‘That’s all very well,’ Maggie said. ‘But it seems to me you’ve become isolated, whether by accident or design. And that can’t be healthy.’ As she voiced the words, she thought of her own situation: a forty-something widow, struggling to construct a future, and all the while her kids drifting away.

‘So true. I’ve gone from living in a city surrounded by family and friends to being stuck with a small child in an academic bubble. If I didn’t have my Seaton job I think I’d have gone stark raving mad.’

Maggie nodded her understanding.

‘But it’s not Nic’s fault, you know. He moved up here for a senior lectureship. And I was with him on that. Only…’ Ros’s voice wavered, ‘I didn’t think it would be this hard.’

‘Has his behaviour changed, would you say, since the move?’

‘Not really. He’s always been…picky, I suppose you could call it. I’m not used to that in a man. I mean, my dad…’

‘You don’t have to explain.’

‘I think I just didn’t notice it so much, not till I was at home all day with Max. And since I’ve been back at work, well, I haven’t had space in my head to think, never mind sit down and explain my feelings to him.’

‘Could counselling be the answer?’ Maggie ventured. ‘If you were to meet with an independent third party, get the opportunity to open up. Do you think Nic would be willing to commit to that?’

‘I doubt it. He doesn’t see that there is a problem, that’s the nub of it. In his mind any misunderstanding lies with me. I’m at my wit’s end, Maggie,’ Ros buried her face in her hands. ‘It’s like walking on eggshells. I try to anticipate his mood.’ She raised her head a fraction. ‘Avoid saying anything contentious. Massage his ego. All that. But no matter what I say or do, he twists it around. And I’m so worn out these days it doesn’t seem worth arguing, so I just let it go.’

‘If you ever need to talk,’ Maggie volunteered, ‘just pick up the phone.’ Not that she had time to spare.

‘Thanks.’ Ros pushed her empty glass to one side. ‘Today’s been a big help, just offloading to someone. But I better be heading.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Or there will be hell to pay.’

‘Off you go, then.’ Maggie reached for Ros’s coat, helped her into it. ‘Better wrap up.’ The weather had taken a turn for the better, but there was a stiff breeze, always, on the Esplanade.

‘What about the bill?’

‘Don’t worry.’ Maggie shooed her away. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘Thanks.’ Ros summoned a smile. ‘You’re a darling.’

Maggie watched as Ros threaded her way through the tables. Poor girl. If the unspoken signals she’d picked up were to be relied upon, Ros’s marriage wasn’t likely to survive.