IT WAS SURPRISINGLY EASY TO AVOID SOMEONE IN YOUR OWN house. It had been five days now since Molly had discovered Dommo’s affair, and three days since she’d kissed the sleep nanny. Oh yes, that.
There was very little time to dwell on the issue of adulthood and expectations once she discovered her husband was having an affair, because just two days later in came Charlie breaking her stream of misery. He had called by to check how the program was going and they found themselves sitting on the couch with steaming mugs of tea in their hands. She had practically fallen into him on the porch, with shrieks of I was just thinking about you. Affair, affair, affair. The words swirled around her brain with a furious intensity.
She had flicked a glance at Charlie, and yes, he was still handsome: dark, thick, luxurious hair, olive skin, dark eyes, a good nose, a dimple. We’re talking full dreamboat package wrapped up in scrubs as he’d just finished the night shift, helping sick children. It was too much for poor Molly to bear, she was only human after all and her husband was a philanderer. Now confirmed.
‘How’s the little scamp Rory?’ Charlie asked with what seemed like genuine interest.
Molly didn’t want to talk about her children, now that she was thinking about becoming a seductress—well, maybe not a seductress but at least a flirt. A flirt didn’t have to bother with the stockings and heels, a flirt could just flick their hair, laugh, occasionally rub a knee and wear lipstick. She started to giggle, to kick the game off and test the waters; she threw her head back and heard a hard cackle release from her.
‘Oh, sorry, I was just thinking of something funny I heard the other day.’ She leaned across the couch and patted his knee. Maybe she’d be good at this flirting lark.
‘Well, share the joke please.’ Charlie grinned at her. Oh, those teeth were magnificent, and was she imagining it, had he inched slightly closer to her on the sofa? And what was all this calling in to check on the program? It was malarkey, that’s what it was. He had been paid for his three visits and now what was this, number five? No. Something else was up.
‘It was one of those you-had-to-be-there things. Do you make regular stop-offs to check on all your clients?’ Was that flirty? She wasn’t sure, so threw in a huge, expectant smile at the end.
‘Only my favourites.’ Flirt. Definite flirt sign. ‘And I knew your husband wasn’t around and you may be having a bit of a struggle.’
Molly felt a lump in her throat that just might have been pure rage. She leaned forward to the coffee table and offered Charlie the biscuits. ‘Chocolate covered wafer?’
‘Well, rude not to. I hope you didn’t bring out the posh biscuits on my account?’
Oh Jesus, he was flirting with her. It was on. She wasn’t imagining it. He went for a biscuit and did a totally unnecessary brush of his hand against hers. Totally unnecessary. Definite flirting. With physical contact. She stared at her hand, the plate of chocolate biscuits, Charlie—all laughter vacuumed up out of the room. He placed his mug on the table, beside his biscuit. Dommo is having an affair she reminded herself. He is knee-deep in some other woman’s business and whatnots. Charlie swung his arm to the back of the couch. A definite invitation to close the gap she thought. Will she do it? Should she? Dommo stayed in a hotel with another woman. He broke this, not her.
Here he comes, those dark eyes are at half mast, she’s not imagining it. He’s waiting for her to smooch in. A quick flash of a school yard appeared in her mind’s eye.
Here goes nothing. She flew in. Definite lip touching, some mouth opening and then the sudden smell of him, the taste of him felt so foreign to her. She felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her away. Charlie rose to his feet.
‘Oh no, oh no.’ He was shaking his head, his mouth open in what could only be described as shock.
Molly felt her stomach hurl and instinctively put her hand to her mouth and looked away. ‘I thought, oh God, I thought …’
‘No!’ He literally jumped back a few feet, his hands ran through his hair and he scanned the room, possibly looking for back-up. Maybe he was going to grab the poker from the fireplace to fight off her unwanted advances.
‘Oh no, I’m so embarrassed, I thought …’ That sinking crushing feeling, that need to hide. ‘All that stuff you said about my hair and you said I’m a great mum …’
‘You are. I don’t know what I said about your hair. You obviously misinterpreted me.’ His arms were crossed against his chest protectively.
‘But you’re here. You keep calling in.’ She heard the pleading in her voice.
‘You pay for me to be here.’
‘No, there was only three sessions paid for.’ She shook her head furiously, weirdly delighted to have tripped him up somehow.
He spoke slowly. ‘No. I am paid to be here.’
‘But it was only supposed to be three.’
He pulled out his phone and prodded the screen. ‘Look,’ he turned it to her like a shield defending his honour. ‘I am paid to be here.’
Molly squinted at the screen and saw the words rolling contract. Her mam. She must have paid for the full service, the deluxe package. That was so typical of her to go the full hog. But she never told Molly. All this time he’s been knocking on the door and she thought … she thought … oh, the absolute shame of it.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She desperately wanted the ground to open up and swallow her, so she could just lie there under the earth until everyone, the world and his wife, disappeared.
Cautiously, he took a step towards her and crouched down to her eye level, still maintaining a distance in case she couldn’t control herself and hopped him. ‘Molly, I don’t know what’s going on with you and your marriage, but this isn’t the solution.’
‘Don’t talk to me about my marriage.’ She sniffed and suddenly felt all high and mighty, her crippling embarrassment being replaced by bolshie bravado. ‘I think you should leave.’ She said rudely, as if she had been the one to be kissed and not the kisser.
‘That’s a good idea.’ Charlie started for the door, then turned back and said, ‘I’m sorry about everything.’
‘Just go.’ Molly pointed dramatically at the door.
‘I don’t think I’ll be back. The agency can send someone else.’
‘Well, maybe they’ll kiss me.’ What was wrong with her? Why would she say that? Was she making a joke? Now? How inappropriate could she be?
He opened the door to leave, then turned and said, ‘I’ll recommend they send a female. Good luck with all of it, Molly.’
Why did he have to be so bloody nice? If she was a man he would have hit her, and she would have deserved it.
She got a text a few hours later.
Maybe you should think about getting some professional help.
Molly had thrown her phone to the bottom of her bag and hadn’t looked at it for days. The shame still surrounded her like a deep fog. The scene was on constant playback in her mind: What had she been thinking? Why would she do that? Meanwhile, she tried to outrun the embarrassment and her husband. She was lurking and shirking around her own house. Hiding out in the bathroom, taking extra-long showers and deeply conditioning her very short hair. She had started weeding the back garden, pulling at green shrubs that may have been flowers, she was never sure. She was to be found furiously cleaning out the playroom with her head buried in Lego baskets, far too busy to peep up and say hello to her husband. He was equally meek. Moving through shadows, microwaving God only knows what, opening and closing the fridge door, going to bed at 8.30 p.m. straight after he’d put the boys down. His eyebrows seemed to have shifted a few inches lower, his mouth drooped in a permanent sigh, his shoulders stooped. He stood in door frames, with a tightness to his chest, breathing heavily, and tried to talk to her.
‘Can’t hear you, I’ve got to get this oven cleaned,’ she said, attacking it with a toothbrush and a lemon, because the internet told her that it would take twice the amount of time to do it this old-fashioned way.
‘Are you mad at me?’
‘I’m mad at this oven.’ Molly gritted her teeth and scrubbed the bristles away.
And so, they’d managed to avoid each other in their two up semi-detached house in the suburbs. They looked at the TV, their phones, slid into different rooms and went to bed at different times, and drifted away from each other exactly how many married couples before them had and will continue to do for years to come.
But now the weekend loomed large, and Molly had a crippling anxiety that had started in her stomach and stretched to her shoulders. She found herself kissing her boys far too much, not releasing them from hugs until they’d actually pushed her away. She was clingy mummy, needy mummy, unhappy mummy. She knew she should talk to Dommo. But say what? She loved him. She didn’t want her marriage to end. She didn’t want to finger click, toss her hair and walk out the door, in the defiant stance of all betrayed women. She wanted him to tell her it was a mistake and that he wanted to go back to the way things were, or maybe not how they were but better. Was that even possible?
But now to more pressing issues, how to avoid your husband for two long days and two nights? It was Rosie who came up with a solution—well, not a solution, she wasn’t to know just how badly Molly had been dreading the weekend—with a suggestion to visit Mam in Ballyhay.
‘I just got off the phone with her, and you know, she sounded funny. I shouldn’t have said that, Molly, I know you have more than enough going on. Sorry.’
‘Funny? What do you mean funny?’ Molly dropped the paintbrush she had been cleaning in methylated spirits, the stench coming off it was eye-watering.
‘Really distant. Like I told her all about DeLuvGuru updates and the matchmaking with Gran, and she was just like, Oh okay, right so.’
‘She didn’t try and fix you?’
‘No. That’s my point.’
‘That does sound strange.’
‘So, I said you’d come visit. I threw the boys in, too. You can give Gran a lift back. I also wondered if Gran’s matchmaking might go better on her home turf. I can’t go, I’ve got to meet Fergal Byrne, he wants to discuss barristers for a court date. Court? It makes me feel sick.’
‘Rosie …’
Ignoring her sister, she continued, ‘I think Gran’s having withdrawal symptoms, she’s been in Dublin so long.’
‘Well, for a woman who says she hates the city, she’s been doing pretty well. She took the bus to the harbour at Dun Laoghaire today and walked the pier, sent me a selfie of her having an ice-cream by the waterfront.’
‘Yeah, she’s really struggling.’
‘Anyway, I’m game. I’ll pack the car up tonight and leave first thing.’ The relief was huge.
‘How’s Dommo?’ Rosie’s voice sounded wary.
‘Dunno, haven’t spoken to him. Exactly why this is a perfect time to get away and sort my head out. Or Mam’s head. I don’t know. Maybe all of our heads.’ She laughed, and heard the hint of crazy edging in.
This was Molly’s plan. To pile the boys into the car, and stuff them with crisps and ice-creams on the way, bring her gran home and go see Mam. It was glorious. Away. She would get away. Run from Dommo and his affair in the Red Cow Inn, take her boys to hug and kiss, talk and talk, and best of all, eat her mother’s cooking. Perfect. It was perhaps the most perfect plan her sister had ever come up with.
But then, on Saturday morning, Dommo wanted to talk.
‘Evie’s going to watch the boys. You and I are going for a walk.’ His voice was stern.
‘No.’ Molly was caught off guard, she was downloading cartoons onto the iPad for the journey. ‘I’ve too much to do. We have to beat the traffic.’
‘There’s no traffic on a Saturday morning. Come on. We’re walking. The drive can wait a few minutes.’ He didn’t look angry, he looked determined, his jaw was set, and his gaze focused.
I won’t be able to handle it if he decides to tell me about the affair now, if he tells me he’s in love with Tansey, I won’t handle it. Molly was spinning.
‘Here.’ He handed her a pink hoody with a sheepskin lining. Molly looked at it as a thing of mystery. It really wasn’t very nice, but definitely felt cosy as she slipped it on. She wrapped her arms around herself and dutifully did what she was told and walked to the hall door. She turned her head back towards the kitchen and to the noise of the boys playing with their cars there.
‘You’re sure they’re … ?’
‘They’re fine. Come on. We won’t be long.’
It won’t take long for you to end this marriage is that what you’re saying? To break my heart, to leave this family. It won’t take long.
The door clicked behind them and they set off down the street, walking as far apart as the narrow pavement would allow, dodging parked cars and lampposts. Dommo’s strides were strong and purposeful, his arms swinging; she shuffled along, feeling as if every footstep were bringing her closer to the ending.
He broke the silence. ‘I think it’s good you’re going to Ballyhay.’
‘You’re happy to see the back of me?’ She spat the words at him. ‘Be nice for you to have some free time.’ She could be vicious; she was surprised at just how angry her voice sounded.
‘Please, Molly, don’t … I think it’s good for you to get away, to have a change of scenery. I think you need a break. I don’t know what’s been going on with you, I don’t know why you’re so sad and mad.’
‘Oh well …’ Molly couldn’t find the words she wanted.
Dommo had quickened the pace and taken a left down another housing estate; he was marching fast now, the house fronts were blurring. ‘I want you to know that everything I’m doing, I’m doing for us. I think sometimes you don’t have any idea of what kind of stress and pressure I’m under. My job is—’ he threw a look back at her, his face was pained ‘—it’s terrible, Molly. I feel like I’ll explode, and then I come home and it’s terrible at home, too. You’re so angry with me.’
‘Your job. This is about your job?’ Molly thought she might laugh.
‘Of course you want me home more, I understand, to help out, but if I don’t put in the time there … you know they promoted two people in my department this month and neither of them was me. When I leave early to do the baths or whatever they’re all still there, the office is full, and I look like I’m skiving.’
‘You can leave to go to the pub, can’t you?’ she whispered under her breath, but he caught it.
‘Twice. I’ve been to the pub twice, and honestly, it’s poor form, they’re there regularly on a Friday. It’s part of the office buzz going for a few drinks to wind down after a stressful week. I don’t go. I’m not one of the gang.’
‘So, what’s this all about, you want to go to the pub? I don’t understand, Dommo.’
‘No, I don’t want to go to the pub. I want to come home to a happy house. I want to be bloody promoted and make more money so we can pay off my mother and get on top of this mortgage and I want my wife back.’ He stopped dramatically on the street, looked into her eyes and said, ‘Molly, I want my life back.’
‘Your life? This is your life. This is the life you chose. You chose me, remember?’
He started walking again, shaking his head. ‘I just wish you’d understand the pressure I’m under. You just don’t understand.’
‘No, no, no.’ The rage inside her was slowly unfurling, she stomped her feet like Andy having a tantrum. ‘Stop this now. Stop it.’ She had stopped walking, her body felt rigid.
He spun back to look at his furious wife, her face red, her hands clenched into fists beating at her thighs.
‘You better start telling the truth, Dommo. I already know. I fucking know. I know all of it. I know about you and the Red Cow Inn.’
‘You do?’ Dommo lurched towards her. ‘How? Oh, I felt so guilty about that?’
‘Guilty, you felt guilty. Oh, you poor thing. Poor Dommo.’ She felt wild, the wind whipped around her, and some raindrops fell silently to the pavement. ‘You don’t even deny it. You don’t even try and deny it. You fuck.’ She screamed at him, jabbing her finger in the air, the rage engulfed her. She stepped towards him and felt her two hands find his shoulders, blinded by anger she pushed, hard, fast and mad. She shoved him and he tripped and fell to the ground. She turned on her heel, shouting into the wind, ‘I’m gone! I’m taking the boys and I’m going to my Mam’s. You and Tansey can have the house to yourselves.’ Molly ran. And the rain picked up and started to fall, and by the time she got to her house, it was pouring in sheets, hiding her tears that were flooding down her cheeks. She flung the front door open and cried, ‘Come on, let’s go, let’s go! Come on everyone!’
And they appeared one by one, and she loaded them into the car. Belts buckled, engine revving and she sped off out of suburbia and away from Dommo.