To Susan’s surprise, it was only a little after five thirty when she pulled into the driveway of their home. It had been such a strange day, her head was still buzzing trying to slot everything into place. An impossible task – lies and truths were inextricably tangled. She’d seen the message Hannah had sent to Mark, so perhaps regardless of her suspicions, she’d been telling the truth about that.
Such a strange day. She felt different to the woman who’d gone pell-mell to Windsor only hours before. Good different, though. Hannah’s notion of writing her own narrative had intrigued her, occupying her mind for the journey home, pushing both Drew and Mark outside.
The house was quiet. Whereas before, she’d seen it as an absence… no son, no husband… now, she saw it as a haven of peace. She dropped her bag on the bottom step of the stair, went into the kitchen and stood looking out over the garden.
It was the buzz of her phone that finally broke the silence. She reached for it, looked at the screen and shook her head. Drew.
She pressed to answer. ‘Hi.’
‘Mum, hello. Is everything okay?’
She frowned. Mark hadn’t said anything, had he? Hadn’t told their son that she was losing the plot. Worse, hadn’t told their son that he’d met someone and was leaving. ‘Of course, why wouldn’t it be?’
‘It’s just that…’ A long sigh came down the line. ‘Well, I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, that’s all. So, I was worried.’
He was worried about her! ‘I’ve just been busy; everything is fine.’
‘Right, that’s okay then. I was thinking I might come home for a weekend. Just a quick visit. I miss you.’
Susan wanted to laugh, or cry; she wasn’t sure what the appropriate emotion was. If Drew had rung her a few days before, she’d have cried from happiness. But now… all the one-word answers to her messages, all the phone calls where she was left talking to herself because of that mysterious black spot, all the heartache he’d caused her in the last couple of months when all she’d wanted was the little shit to reply to her messages with a bit more detail than I’m fine.
This, her only son, who’d gone to the best schools, only wore designer clothes and only had the best sports’ gear. This darling boy who was given a more than healthy allowance so he could enjoy university life without having to worry. A polite boy, everyone said, and he was, but thoughtless too. Perhaps it was time he learnt to be kind as well as polite.
‘That would be lovely, Drew. What weekend are you thinking of coming?’
‘I’m not sure yet, maybe next, or the one after. Does it matter?’
And there it was. Susan the doormat. Wipe your feet on it. Use it when you wanted to. Hop over it if you didn’t and carry the muck into the house with you. ‘Well, actually, yes it does. As I said, I’ve been very busy recently and may not be free. Actually, I need to go now. Lovely speaking to you, darling. Give me a buzz or better yet, message me when you’re thinking of coming home, and I’ll see if it suits.’ And she hung up before he had a chance to reply.
She immediately felt guilty and quickly tapped out a message.
I miss you too.
Nothing more. Not the come home whenever you like, I’ll be here waiting he’d probably expected. She gave a quick laugh. Perhaps she should have told him that she was busy writing her own narrative.
And on that note, with more energy than she’d felt in a while, she went upstairs. She’d spent the drive from Windsor rethinking her life, all that had happened that day and the days and weeks before.
It took less time than she’d expected to pack two suitcases, and by the time she heard the front door open, she was finished. She shut them and with one dragging down each arm, headed down the stairs. Mark was still in the hallway, a briefcase in one hand, his other flicking through the post she’d left in a pile on the hall table. He gave a puzzled glance upwards as she descended with one suitcase shushing against the wall, the other tapping a rhythm against the oak uprights of the banister.
She dropped them on the floor near the door and turned to look at him. What a strange emotion love was… She’d loved this man for so long, still did, but now that love was shadowed with disappointment and edged with pain. He looked pale. Had Hannah’s message left him feeling desolate or relieved? Desolate perhaps, but not for long. He was a man now, not a callow boy, and if Hannah stayed away as she’d promised she would, he’d soon realise he’d been trying to recapture a slice of his youth and be relieved the affair was over. Relieved too that his darling, faithful doormat of a wife knew nothing about his transgression. Love and hate… how odd to feel both emotions so strongly at the same time.
Mark eyed the cases with vague curiosity. ‘What’s happening? Are you going somewhere?’
‘Not really.’ She gave a faint smile. ‘Someone told me I should write my own narrative, so I thought I’d start today.’
‘Okay,’ he dragged the word out. ‘I’ve no idea what that means. Where are you going?’
‘Ah,’ she said, pushing the nearest case with the toe of her shoe so hard, it rocked and wobbled before settling. ‘I’m not going anywhere. You are. I’ve packed all you should need for a while. We can come to some arrangement about you coming back to collect the rest of your stuff another time.’ She held out a hand. ‘I’ll have the house keys from you now though, thanks.’ When he simply stood there looking stunned, she shook her head. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out about her, Mark? Do you really think I’m that stupid?’
‘How…’ The briefcase dropped from his hand, hit the floor with a clunk and fell over. His already pale face took on a grey tinge. ‘I’m sorry.’ He took a step towards her, stopping when she took a step away and held her hands up. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘Honest. It was a mistake.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘A big one. When Drew left, I needed you and you bailed on me. I’m not sure I can forgive that.’
He stretched a hand towards her. ‘I’m sorry, I was stupid, it was…’ He shook his head, as if right at that moment, he wasn’t sure what it was. ‘I do love you.’
Yes, she thought, he really did, but he’d broken them, betrayed her, and demeaned himself. A weak man. She loved him anyway. She stood back and watched as he gathered his briefcase under one arm, and picked up both suitcases, then stood helplessly looking at the shut door as if expecting it to miraculously open. Afraid he was going to cry, and that she’d weaken and beg him to stay, she hurried over to open it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again.
Then he was gone. She shut the door and listened to the sound of him opening and closing the boot of his car. She moved then, hurrying through to the living room to peep around the edge of the curtain, her heart aching to see the shine of tears on his face. The lump in her throat refused to shift until anger pushed it down. He’d done this to them.
She wondered where he’d go. Back to Hannah’s apartment to appeal for yet another chance? He’d said it was over, but it hadn’t been his choice. Maybe he’d beg. If he did, would she forget the promise she’d made to Susan and take him back?
She pressed her forehead to the cool glass. If she did, this time, Susan wouldn’t hesitate. This time, she’d kill the bitch.