28

They hadn’t had a real fight for years. Not a proper, all-out, I-wish-I-was-married-to-someone-else kind of fight. And Jen hadn’t seen it coming either – it was just suddenly there, and they were in the middle of it, trapped in the heart of the fire with no emergency exits in sight.

It was Jen’s fault, she knew it was. She should have just kept her mouth shut – carried on grinning and bearing it – or, at least, thought about what she said before she said it. There must have been a way of getting across what was on her mind without making it sound like a direct attack on his parents. But she had just blurted it out, as soon as they were tucked up in bed. Five more minutes and they would have been asleep, and this conversation would never have happened.

Deep down, a part of her knew she just felt like having a row, letting off steam like other couples. Shouting and screaming – although she was a little afraid of what she might say, if pushed – until she had got all the tension and anxiety and frustration that had been building up out of her system. It was all too much. She had always been proud of the fact that they rarely fought, had thought it showed understanding, respect – maturity, even. These days, she wondered if it just meant that they had never cared enough, that they had been content to let their relationship drift and run aground in the safe shallows.

She had started to get herself into a spin on the way home, having put in an extra three hours to cover for Judy’s absence, and so that Jason would nod and say, yes, wasn’t it awful, when Amelia or Poppy mentioned to him how overworked she was. She was exhausted. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Her last communication from Cass had lodged itself right at the forefront of her mind, pushing all rational and logical thoughts to the side, leaving her unable to think straight, unable to even stick her head back down in the sand – where she felt, if not safe, at least hidden. Out of the path of the bullets.

And then it had hit her with a deafening thud, as she sat on the bus, that their long weekend away for Charles and Amelia’s anniversary was just round the corner. She had blocked it out somehow, focused on how she was going to get through Christmas and pretended that this enormous ditch wasn’t lurking in the way, waiting to trap her before Christmas even arrived.

It couldn’t happen. It. Could. Not. Happen. No way could she spend three nights away with her in-laws now. No way.

Once home, she claimed exhaustion and another impending migraine and ran herself a bath. Jason was all sympathy and made her a brie sandwich that she ate in silence, sitting on the bed in her pyjamas, having protested that she needed an early night.

As soon as the words had come out of her mouth, she regretted saying them. She had hoped she might get through the night unscathed if she could only feign sleep, but Jason had insisted on accompanying her to bed and was now sitting up beside her, light on, book open.

‘I think we should cancel the holiday.’

Jason looked confused, no idea what had hit him. ‘What? Why?’

‘Because I can’t face it.’

‘Where’s this come from?’

‘I don’t know. I just … I don’t want to go.’

‘You’re knackered. Get some sleep. You’ll feel differently in the morning.’

‘Don’t talk to me like I’m one of the girls, Jason. Jesus!’

‘Well, you’re making no sense.’

‘How much more explicit do you need me to be? I think we should cancel the cottage. I just don’t think it’s such a good idea after all.’

‘It’s all booked …’

‘It’s … I can’t. I just can’t.’

She had no way of explaining to him what her real problem was. She should never have started this.

‘Did Mum say something to upset you?’

Jason knew that Jen and Amelia often talked on the phone, had no idea that Jen had been screening her calls lately and letting them go to voicemail if her mother-in-law rang. That was something else she was going to have to address one of these days.

‘No. I just think it might be a nightmare, that’s all. I can’t face three nights – actually, four days – of us all cooped up together.’

‘It was all your idea. You can’t just change your mind.’

‘It was a stupid plan. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘God, Jen, it’s three nights with my parents. We’ve been away with them before. You love spending time with them.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Too right, I don’t. And I am not about to turn round and tell them we’ve decided we don’t want to go on the holiday we’ve booked with them, after all. The holiday that was all your idea.’

‘I don’t think they’d care.’

‘What are you saying? That my mum and dad would rather not spend a few days with us? Wow, Jen, that’s extreme.’

‘Of course not. Just with me. I don’t know. Maybe I just shouldn’t come.’

‘They love you. OK, what is going on?’

‘Nothing. I’m just tired, and we see so much of them already.’

‘It’ll do you good. You haven’t been yourself lately. God knows what’s up with you –’

‘I told you,’ she said, more harshly than she’d intended. ‘I’m knackered. I don’t want to use up my holiday running around after your mum and dad.’

‘Since when did they expect us to run around after them? They’re usually the ones insisting on doing everything.’

‘You know what I mean. It’s OK for you, you get weeks off over the Christmas break.’

‘Is that what this is about? That I get more holiday than you do? And, of course, I never have any coursework to mark, or tutorials to plan. And do you have any idea how hard it was for me to organize time off during term time? Finding people to cover my classes –’

‘Jason, I’m not having a go at you. I’m just saying that I don’t get to have time off very often, and when I do it’s precious. I feel like I just need a few days to flop about and do nothing.’

‘Well, you should have thought about that before you told Mum and Dad we were taking them away. It’s too late now. Anyway, you’re off for Christmas, aren’t you? That’s, what? A couple of weeks later –’

‘Which we’ll spend with your parents,’ she interrupted. ‘I just want some time for just us. I don’t know …’

‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘I can’t, OK? I can’t face it, I can’t go.’

‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘No.’

‘There is, there must be. Something’s happened.’

Fuck it. Maybe she should just get it out there. Maybe he should know exactly what his father was capable of. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath.

She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t detonate the bomb under all their lives.

‘I could say I was ill, or something. You go, take them out, spoil them, everybody’s happy.’

‘What, another convenient migraine?’

Shit. ‘That’s harsh.’

‘Well, they do seem to happen at the most opportune times.’

‘What if I really was ill? I couldn’t go then, so what’s the difference?’

‘The difference is that it would be true. I’m not going to lie to get you out of a few days in the country. It’s ridiculous.’

‘Why do you care so much if I come or not? Surely it’s better if I’m not there, if I feel like this?’

‘Because we’re doing this for them. This is supposed to be their anniversary present. From both of us. What the hell is up with you?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t explain.’

‘It’s like you’ve been body-snatched. You’re moody, you’re secretive. You don’t want to spend time with my family. I spoke to Poppy the other day, and she said she’d barely heard from you.’

‘I’ve been busy,’ Jen said, rather desperately. She wished she’d never started this conversation.

‘With what?’

‘Just stuff. I don’t know. Work.’

‘Work? If this is what three hours’ overtime does to you, then God help us if you ever have to cover an extra day. And it’s not like we even have the girls at home now.’

‘You have no idea how stressful my job can be. Just because it’s not academic …’

And so, the argument lurched from Jason’s failure to appreciate that Jen had spent years doing something unfulfilling because it fitted in with the family’s needs, to her lack of supportiveness about his ambitions to be Head of Department, on to his lack of willingness to take her job seriously, and her tendency to think she knew better than everyone else did about how they should live their lives.

She accused Jason of never having counted her mother as being as important as his own, which made him snort and tell her it was a bit late for her to be putting herself in the running for daughter of the year.

‘What the fuck does that mean?’ she shouted.

‘What do you think? I’ve lost count of the excuses you’ve made in the past not to have to spend any time with Elaine.’

‘That’s not true, and you know it,’ she countered, knowing that he was right.

‘You make up the rules to suit yourself. You always do.’

Eventually, they arrived right back where they had started.

‘I’m not going, and that’s final. I don’t care what you tell them.’ Jen slammed her water glass down on the bedside table, spilling the contents. It dripped down on to the carpet. She ignored it. Of course, she actually cared very much about hurting Amelia, would have hated for her mother-in-law to think she didn’t want to spend time with her.

‘You’re being totally unreasonable, and you know it. We’ll talk about this tomorrow when you’ve calmed down a bit.’

‘Don’t shout,’ Jen heard herself saying, although she was fully aware that she was the one who had raised her voice first. She didn’t even know why she had said it, since they were alone in the house. The neighbours, maybe. The walls of their terrace were thin.

Jason glared at her, and she waited for him to say, ‘Don’t you dare tell me not to shout, when you’re shouting yourself.’ But instead, he just flung down the book that he was still holding, having failed to read a single page, on to the floor, turned out his bedside light, and said, ‘I’m going to sleep, but I’ll tell you now, there is no way I am going to cancel this holiday, or that you are going to cry off with a fake illness. Grow up, Jen. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like.’

Jen thought about getting up and flouncing out. Going to sleep in either Simone or Emily’s single bed. Instead, she did nothing, just rolled on her side, facing away from him.

This was so unfair.

For the first time ever, she was thankful to be on an early the next morning, up and out long before Jason surfaced. Usually, he would wake up just enough to mutter, ‘Have a good day,’ at her as she crept around getting dressed, but if he heard her this morning he didn’t give himself away. She made his lunch, as she always did (although she suspected he threw it away and ate cafeteria junk most days, but she still liked to provide him with a healthy option), left it in the fridge, and then went out into the dark, damp morning, on time for once.

Jen knew that, later in the day, one of them would send the other a conciliatory text and that, on this occasion, it should be her, but at the moment she still felt too hard done by, too wounded by some of the things he had said. Too upset that she hadn’t got her own way, if she was being honest. It had shocked her when he’d fought back. She had expected resistance – after all, what she was saying had been so completely out of left field, totally without precedent. She had known he might dig his heels in, take what she was saying as an assault on his family, refuse to budge. But she hadn’t expected them to shout at each other, hadn’t thought it would end up turning so personal.

It was funny – well, not funny exactly, more interesting, and maybe a little bit sad – the way he had just assumed her problem was with Amelia, and there had been no way for her to disabuse him. She had come dangerously close to blurting out the fact that it was Charles she didn’t want to be around. She had stopped herself, even in the middle of a fight, to protect him. To protect them all. And without being able to tell Jason exactly what her problem was, she was always going to sound like a spoiled child.

As always, when they had had one of their rare arguments, Jen veered between feeling contrite and indignant in the aftermath. She should never have suggested they cancel the holiday. These were his parents they were talking about. But, honestly, it was ridiculous. Jason should never have assumed they would spend every Sunday having lunch with them. He should have told her how it was going to be, made it part of his wedding vows. (‘Will you take me and my mother and father to love and to cherish, will you spend all your free time being taken in by his hokey charm and complete and utter bullshit?’) What she really meant, of course – although she was deciding to ignore the fact now – was that he should have ignored her when she had insisted they spend the majority of their weekends with the Mastersons instead of with her own mother. The fact was, he should have just manned up at some point over the past twenty-odd years.

Jen mulled this over in her head, going through another angry phase, and wrestling with her computer, trying to put through a payment that had been rejected twice already because the connection kept going down.

‘Jesus Christ!’ she said, far too loudly, and slammed a pile of papers from one end of the reception desk to the other. Luckily, the reception was deserted. She took a deep breath and tried again.

The internal phone rang. The display lit up: ‘Room 328 Mr Sean Hoskins’. Jen grabbed it eagerly, happy for the distraction.

‘Morning. You’re up early.’

‘Oh good, you’re on. I’m coming down.’

‘What –’ Jen started to say, but he’d hung up.

A couple of minutes later, the lift pinged and Sean appeared, smiling broadly.

She mirrored his smile. Actually felt ten times better for seeing a friendly face. The thought flitted across her mind that she was glad she was on duty alone, that no one else was around.

‘Do you need any help with anything?’

‘No. To be completely honest, I’m bored out of my mind and I came down in the hope that you’d take pity on me and chat to me for five minutes.’

Jen had no idea if what Sean was saying was true, or if it was another one of his jokes, but she felt flattered, nonetheless. ‘With pleasure.’

Sean leaned his elbows on the desk. ‘OK, what shall we talk about?’

She laughed. ‘Hold on, this was your idea.’

‘I don’t care. Anything’s better than morning TV.’ He picked up a newspaper that was lying behind the desk. ‘I’ll open this at a random page, and we can discuss whatever’s on there.’

He opened it with a flourish, closed his eyes and pointed blindly at the page.

Jen looked. ‘Wow. Libya.’

Sean closed the paper again. ‘OK, well, maybe not that. Let’s start from the front.’

In the end, they chatted for about twenty minutes, about everything from the monarchy to Taylor Swift’s love life via the euro crisis. Jen forgot all about her fight with Jason. Or, at least, it was pushed from the front of her mind to the back.

After a while, another guest arrived and started tapping his nails impatiently on the reception desk.

‘I won’t be a moment,’ she said to Sean, hoping he might hang around a little longer.

‘I should go,’ he said. ‘I hope your day gets better.’

‘See you later,’ Jen said, realizing that she actually already felt in a cheerier mood. ‘Have fun.’

She made a restaurant reservation for the impatient man and then, still feeling better disposed towards the world than she had earlier, sent Jason a cheerful text. Not an apology, just a friendly message:

You ok? I feel a bit knackered and rubbish! Xxx’

She hoped it would give off the signal that she wanted to be friends again. This was how they always operated after a fight. Eventually, one of them would give in and make a jokey or, at least, a light-hearted overture. The other one would capitulate immediately, and the disagreement would be forgotten and probably never mentioned again. They never had a debrief. There would be no discussion of who had been in the right or in the wrong, or who owed who an apology. Not even an attempt to work out how they could avoid going over the same ground in the future.

She wondered, though, if they had just been brushing all their grievances under a carpet for all those years, rather than hoovering them away for good. Whether, one day, one of them would lift the corner up and they would all come seeping out and suffocate them.