Bernadette was almost relieved when the meal service stopped her conversation with Hayley before it had even started. Not because she didn’t want to share the experiences she’d alluded to earlier, although she’d shocked herself when she’d blurted out, ‘I used to know someone just like him.’ She was always prepared to share her own story if it could help someone and she felt this young woman might benefit from hearing about Bernadette’s own experiences, about her marriage and how she’d escaped her own personal hell.
However, she was glad when the meal service got in the way of further discussion, because she wanted to give Hayley time to think about whether she was ready to open up.
But oh, how she recognised Hayley’s husband the moment she’d seen the snarl of his top lip. Even though Hayley had been turned the other way when she was speaking to her husband, Bernadette had also recognised every tremble of her voice, and the anxiety and dread that emanated from every pore of her body, even after she’d bravely stood up for herself and then the flight attendant had shunted him back off to business class.
As for travelling separately, how many times had Kenneth done that to her over the years? He used to tell her that he’d been booked in business class by the hospital, or the pharmaceutical company, or whatever big-spending patient was picking up the tab to fly one of the country’s top heart surgeons to Dubai, or New York, or Miami, but that he couldn’t take advantage of their good nature by booking her a business-class seat too.
‘That would just be rude,’ he used to say, if she questioned him. No sign of any kind of concern as to whether or not it was rude of him to ditch his wife, despite the fact that they could afford to pay for an upgrade themselves. He was as tight as he was nasty.
It wasn’t that she wanted to sit in the posh seats. Truthfully, she couldn’t care less. But in the early days, she just wanted to be with her husband, to be enjoying their trip together. Looking back, she wasn’t sure that he ever enjoyed a single moment of his time with her. Not really. Not when it was just the two of them and the children weren’t involved. Maybe at first. In the early days. Unless she’d been so blinded by her love for him that she’d imagined that too. She’d asked him about it once, years later, between his many dalliances with other women. She’d demanded to know why he’d married her if she was as hopeless, as unattractive, as boring as he told her she was.
‘Because you were a safe bet,’ he’d told her offhandedly, like he was discussing what to have for dinner. ‘I knew you’d be a terrific mother, and you’d support me while I focused on my career. You were the stability I wanted to keep everything steady while I climbed the ladder. And that’s what you’ve been. Just a shame you’ve let yourself go at the same time.’
Ouch. That one had stung. But only for a moment. Because by then she hated him so much that she didn’t give two hoots what he thought.
Over the years, Bernadette had become inured to most of his behaviour, but not all of it. She could tolerate the affairs, the disappearances, the blatant disregard for her feelings. She could put up with the control freakery and the insistence that every single thing he wanted had to be done perfectly. He once wrecked her phone because she hadn’t put his breakfast vitamins out in the correct order. While he was berating her, her mobile rang, so he’d picked it up and hurled it at the kitchen wall, smashing it to pieces. She could tolerate the temper and irrational demands, because he never showed any of those things in front of the children and, rightly or wrongly (wrongly now, she knew), she’d lived by the honest belief that keeping their family together was the best thing to do. But what she had never come to terms with was the thing that had made her gasp out loud when Hayley’s husband was here earlier: the gaslighting.
Bernadette had heard Hayley’s husband saying the same things to Hayley that Kenneth had said to her, in one way or another, a thousand times throughout their marriage.
Hayley’s husband’s words were replaying in Bernadette’s mind. ‘What the hell has got into you? You’re being totally fucking irrational.’
Gaslighting 101. He acts completely reprehensibly, and when she reacts, he tells her she’s crazy. Kenneth had done that to her too many times to mention.
The times when she’d suggested he was having affairs and he’d told her she was imagining it.
The times when she’d challenged him about where he’d been, and he’d said she was neurotic.
The times when she’d expressed doubts over his feelings for her and he’d accused her of being paranoid.
So many times. More than she could count.
And what scared her the most was that on way too many of those occasions, she’d believed him.
It had taken her a lifetime to find her strength and to walk away, and when she did, there had been the predictable rage on his part, the blind fury that she’d gone. Then, more surprisingly, came his remorse, the pleading, the genuine devastation. That led to the casual drop-ins, the fabricated excuses for family get-togethers, the suggestions of things they could all do in the future. That all led up to the biggest shock of all. A couple of years after she’d left him, the great Kenneth Manson, master of the universe, had actually begged her to forgive him and to come back to him.
It was little Casey’s fifth birthday, and they’d been at Nina’s house for the party in the garden. Stuart was working on a case, so he and Connor couldn’t make it, but as always, Bernadette was there early and happy to help. ‘You’re on bounce patrol, Mum,’ Nina had informed her when she’d arrived. She’d gestured to the bouncy castle they’d hired for the occasion. ‘You’re like the lifeguard at a pool, only it’s your job to make sure none of these lovely little buggers bounce right out of this inflatable and do themselves an injury on my whirligig.’
‘And what exactly are the requirements for this position?’ Bernadette had asked, playing along.
‘You sit over there at my new Argos dining set and I’ll bring you cold drinks while you keep an eye on them.’
‘Throw in some of this carrot cake, and I’m in,’ Bernadette had countered, handing over the cake she’d baked that morning.
Nina had laughed as she gratefully accepted it. ‘Deal.’
It was the first thing Kenneth had noticed when he’d arrived, all suave smiles and easy charm, as he pulled out a rattan chair and joined her at the table.
‘Your home-made carrot cake?’ he’d asked, gesturing to the plate in front of her.
‘Yes. The diet starts tomorrow. Or maybe next week,’ she’d answered lightly, playing her usual glib game of pretending he was a casual acquaintance, not the man who’d made her life hell for years. It seemed ridiculous, but it was the only way she got through their encounters.
Nina was keeping a discreet watch on the interaction between her parents from a distance. Their daughter loved her father, but Bernadette had learned after their split that she also saw his flaws. If there was a side to choose, Nina stuck with her mother, but Bernadette made a point never to put her in that position.
That was the first day that Bernadette had noticed the subtle difference in Kenneth’s appearance. He’d always been immaculately groomed, masterful in the organisation of his life, his work and his appearance. To the untrained eye, he would have seemed the same as always, but Bernadette saw something different. The slight shadow on his face that revealed he’d left the house without shaving. The curls of the hair on the back of his collar, unheard of for a man who had a standing fortnightly booking with his barber. The creases on his white linen shirt. The missing belt on the waistband of his chinos. None of that was standard Kenneth, and yes, her first reaction was to have a shallow dig in his direction: clearly whatever thirty-year-old model he was dating now wasn’t keeping up with his standards.
There had been quite a few of them since Bernadette had left. Not just the one he was shagging for the last few years of their marriage. That dalliance had fallen apart the night the young woman had shown up at their door and exposed their affair to Bernadette, Nina and Stuart. Kenneth had exploded with fury on their front step that night but Bernadette didn’t stick around to watch what happened next. She’d already packed her stuff and was leaving him anyway.
After that, there seemed to be a steady stream of young beautiful women, few of them older than their daughter. Turned out Kenneth had a type. And it was about as far from Bernadette as it was possible to be.
Not that she’d vocalised that thought, of course. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking she cared enough to notice, and she’d made a promise to herself that she’d always keep things civil, for the kids, the grandkids and for the sake of her own dignity.
‘How are you, Bernadette?’ he’d asked that day, like she was an old friend and not the woman who’d been his psychological target practice for three decades.
‘I’m good. Really good,’ she’d answered honestly.
That’s when he’d proved that even after knowing him for over thirty years, he could still surprise her.
He’d taken a sip of his coffee, eyes focused on the bouncy castle, not even making eye contact with her when he’d said, ‘Bernadette, when are we going to put an end to all this nonsense?’
Bernadette was puzzled. What nonsense? Casey’s birthday party? Did Kenneth have something against inflatable play structures?
‘Nonsense?’ she’d asked, genuinely confused.
‘Yes, this… separation. Between us.’ He’d made a dismissive gesture with his hand, one she’d seen him make a million times.
Bernadette had felt the hackles on her neck begin to rise and reminded herself to keep it together, keep it amicable. Nina was still glancing over every few minutes, and Bernadette was damned if anything was going to spoil this day for her daughter, her grandson, or the fourteen five-year-olds who were bouncing themselves into a frenzy. ‘Separation?’ She was staring straight ahead, a fixed smile on her face, her light tone a stark contrast to the words she was actually saying. ‘You mean our divorce. The one that came about because you cheated on me throughout our whole marriage, undermined me, betrayed me, bullied me, scared me and made me miserable every day of my life. That separation?’
He acted like she hadn’t spoken. ‘Bernie…’ He never called her that, so it jarred with her. To him, she was always Bernadette. Or bitch. Depending on the day. He turned to face her now, put his coffee down and reached over, putting his hand over hers. ‘Bernadette…’ he said this time, and for once in his life he seemed to be struggling for the words. ‘I’m so sorry. For everything. I know I treated you terribly and it was a mistake, all of it. I see that now, though.’
Bernadette had still stared straight ahead, never straying from her bounce watch duties. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nina’s jaw drop as she glanced over and spotted the hand hold.
She slowly tried to extricate her hand, but Kenneth just held on to it tighter. ‘I’ve been vile. Inexcusable. I know that, but I also know that we had a wonderful life together and I want that back, Bernadette. I want you back. Nothing makes sense without you. Nothing works. It just all seems so… empty. Like the ground isn’t stable any more. Please, Bernadette. Please let me make it up to you. I could cut back on work and we could travel. Take trips. Fly off whenever you wanted. Enjoy our time together.’
Who was this man? Bernadette wanted to check him for signs of a mental aberration. A stroke, maybe. Then it struck her. He was the man she thought she’d married. Somewhere in that, there was a moment of vindication. Looking at him now, or rather, half looking at him, half focusing on some serious bounce action, he was so genuine, so vulnerable, so utterly believable, that it gave her the answer to the question she’d asked herself more than any other in the last few years. How could she have fallen for him? How did she not see that he was a monster? This was why. He was this person too. This loving, sweet, tender man who could win her over with his words. She hadn’t been a fool. He’d just been a really good actor. But she was no longer interested in watching the performance.
‘Kenneth, move your hand off mine,’ she’d said calmly, and only Kenneth was close enough to see that it was through gritted teeth. ‘Don’t ever touch me again without my permission.’
‘Bernadette, come on—’
‘Shut. Up. I’m speaking. Let me tell you something in very clear language. I will never come back to you. I will never touch you again. I will never want to be in your company, but I’ll do it for the kids and so will you. There is no world in which there will ever be more than necessary civility between us. But if you don’t take your fucking hand off mine right now, I will find a way to break it. Do you understand me?’
There was such cool venom in her voice, such absolute conviction, not to mention the completely uncharacteristic profanity, that he’d removed his hand, made an excuse to leave early, and he’d never said any of those things again.
The astonishing realisation that the man who had treated her like mess on the bottom of his shoe had somehow hated living without her, gave Bernadette no satisfaction whatsoever. Rather, it just made her despise him and pity him more. He was a flawed character, Kenneth. A broken person. But one who paraded in a costume of respectability and success. A bit like yer man who’d been sitting in the seat at the end of this row just a few minutes ago.
Watching Hayley deal with her husband had made Bernadette’s heart break, just as it had done every single time a victim of domestic violence had come through the doors at A&E. In those cases, the broken bones and scars were visible, but Bernadette also knew that repeated psychological abuse left wounds that cut just as deep. Her scars still ached sometimes, especially when someone reminded her of how she got them.
So yes, Bernadette knew exactly who and what Lucas Ford was. And while she completely understood that – for whatever reason – Hayley hadn’t yet found her voice to fight back, Bernadette knew that if he pulled any of that nonsense with his wife again, Bernadette was ready and able to shout loud enough for them both.