It started to rain, but she didn’t move. The skin on the top of her hands tingled as it got damp, and she could smell the fresh earthiness of the raindrops on the sleeves of her coat.
Her face was already wet, the skin on her cheeks tight from the tears that had streamed down them. Her eyes itched and her nose was so snotty she could hardly breathe, but she didn’t have the energy to root in her bag to look for a tissue. Her arms felt like lead and every sinew in her body ached, as if the blood had been drained from her veins. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting here, but she couldn’t think about going anywhere yet; there was no way she could arrive home looking like this.
After Ben had walked out of the pub, Eve had sat at the table for a few seconds before pulling on her coat and putting her phone into her bag. She did it all calmly, without urgency, aware that the group of girls at the next table were staring across at her, open-mouthed at the way Ben had shouted at her.
She also knew that, after she walked out, they would lean forward, gasping, enjoying the intrigue and the fact that they could now discuss what the hell had been going on with that couple. The entire pub had just listened to Ben tell her she was a bad mother, and every head turned to watch her as she walked out. She left with as much dignity as she could muster, but was aware her face was blazing. Despite the fact that she didn’t know any of these people, the humiliation was overwhelming.
It was only when she got out onto the pavement that she began to cry. She walked quickly past a row of houses before turning into a small park and collapsing onto a bench, just inside the railings.
Then she just sat there, for goodness knows how long. Around her, city life carried on as normal: cars drove past the park, music drifted out of windows, front doors slammed, passers-by talked and laughed. She tipped her head back and gazed up into the night sky, watching an aeroplane make a slow arc overhead, the flashing red light on its underbelly marking it out in the darkness.
She was in pieces. Was this all her fault? She ran through every word he’d said, time and time again. It wasn’t fair that he was blaming her for all this. She wasn’t the only one responsible for Daniel, but she’d always felt proud that she was doing a bloody good job – effectively as a single mother. It would have been nice to have got the occasional thank you, or for Ben to have acknowledged she was doing more than her share, but she’d never asked for that, or expected it. Just as well: he hadn’t said anything supportive in the last five years. Instead, he had dipped in and out of fatherhood when it suited him and when it fitted in with his wonderful new life. Now he was telling her what a mess she’d made of bringing up their son.
There was no doubt he’d fight her for custody after this. She bent forwards and put her head in her hands, sobs welling up in her throat again. How had she messed up everything so badly? She remembered what the young solicitor had said: the suggestion that, since she and Ben had such a good ongoing relationship when it came to Daniel, they ought to try to sort out future arrangements amongst themselves.
Hah! What a bloody joke; there was no chance of that now. Ben would take her to court and ask a judge to let him move Daniel to Glasgow so he could become a proper, permanent part of his other family. The judge would look at them both and see Ben: an upright, respectable man with a decent job and steady income, who was married and had a beautiful, contented family. Then he would look at her, and see an exhausted, overwrought single mother, who had been so preoccupied by complications at work and problems relating to the care of her own elderly parent, that she hadn’t given enough time and attention to her son.
Maybe this was what she deserved. She’d been so wrapped up in herself that she’d failed to notice that her gorgeous little boy, whom she loved more than anyone in the world, was desperately unhappy at school and had turned into a playground bully.
She cried again, feeling the rain drip down the back of her neck as she bent forward, burying her face in her hands. But after a while it began to feel as if she had hollowed out inside; there were no tears left. She leant back against the bench, so drained she could hardly lift her hands from her lap.
A young couple walked in through the gate, arms flung carelessly around each other’s shoulders, heads together, their laughter carrying on the breeze. She couldn’t hear their exact words but it sounded as if he was teasing her about something: she was arguing back, but playfully, enjoying the faux quarrel, safe in the knowledge that he loved her deeply enough for there not to be any hidden meaning or criticism in what he was saying. Had she and Ben ever been like that? Eve was sure they had, but it was all such a long time ago, and looking back now she could remember so few of the good times.
Instead, what came to mind were the arguments and exhausted bickering after Daniel was born, the resentment and misunderstandings; the evenings when Ben slammed out of the door and went in search of a mate or a pint. There were many nights when he slept in the spare room – at first, because it meant at least one of them got a decent amount of sleep, but later on because sleeping in different beds had come to feel like the norm.
When she woke to feed Daniel in the night, she would tiptoe out onto the landing afterwards, rocking a full, sleepy baby on her shoulder, and peer in through the crack in the bedroom door at Ben’s sleeping form in the spare bed, his back turned to her.
But Ben was right; she hadn’t been doing her best by Daniel. There had been so much going on with Flora over the last year, so many concerns and worrying symptoms, so many medical appointments and decisions that needed to be made. Daniel had been dragged along to view care homes after school and left to play on her phone in doctors’ surgery waiting rooms or in the back seat of the car while she popped into the chemist to pick up an amended prescription. It hadn’t been unusual for her to do what she’d done yesterday: pick up Daniel at the end of a school day and take him back into work with her, because there was something urgent which she hadn’t finished. But none of it was fair on him.
The young couple had now reached the other side of the park and were standing by a gate onto the road. They looked like they were going their separate ways and, as Eve watched, the man reached out and pulled the girl towards him, enveloping her in a hug and putting his face down towards hers. Their kiss was long and lingering. She felt like a voyeur, but couldn’t drag her eyes away.
Now that she’d stopped crying, the breeze felt cool on her cheeks. She looked in her bag for a tissue, but couldn’t find one, so wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her coat and pushed her hands back through her hair, scraping it away from her face. Her eyes were swollen and puffy and it would be a while until they’d look normal again. She would have to walk around for a bit, maybe find some water to splash onto her skin. Daniel would be asleep when she got home, but there was no way she could let Katie see her in this state. She forced herself to take in a deep lungful of air, then breathe out again slowly. In and out. There was a kind of comfort in the rhythm, a sense of regaining control.
She didn’t want to keep thinking about all this, but her head was buzzing with Ben’s words, which were cruel and cutting, but also true. There must have been signs that Daniel wasn’t happy at school – he wasn’t old enough to be able to hide his feelings. Maybe he had tried to talk to her, or had mentioned something – however small – that was actually a cry for help? But she’d missed the warnings.
There was no excuse: it didn’t matter that she’d been busy and stressed and worried. She had failed her son.