‘How did he contact you?’
Tom jumps with fright when I walk into the room. He must be so on edge. Anxiety, Tom, welcome to my world. Stirring milk into his coffee before turning around he takes the mug and moves away from the counter.
‘Sal, it was earlier in the year, I’m sorry, I just… like I told you, I only got the DNA results two months ago, so technically I’ve only known for sure since then.’ My God, bullshit knows no boundaries when it’s oozing from Tom’s lips.
‘I know he rang you at Easter. I remember the call coming in from Kenny’s Golf Supplies when we were sitting having dinner. How did he first contact you? Was it her, the mother? The woman you said you never spoke to since the night you had sex with her. Did you even know her name, Tom?
He shakes his head.
‘Well, how did he track you down?’
‘I don’t know, I never asked him, it was all such a shock.’ He sits down at the table, nodding his head at the chair by my side, inviting me to sit. I don’t.
‘It was the boy himself who made contact. He made an appointment to see me in work, said he wanted to talk about insurance.’
‘A kid?’
‘I didn’t know how young he was, Sally, not until he arrived. It was arranged through the company’s contact email.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
‘He came into the office… I thought it was just a regular enquiry until I saw him.’
‘How did you react?’
‘I can’t remember, Sal, shock, I guess… actually, at first I thought it was one of the lads playing a joke… but then… he had information. He knew about the night I met his mother, so… but I still didn’t believe it, which is why I asked for the DNA test… which is why I didn’t mention it to you.’
If Tom squeezes that mug any tighter it will break.
‘Why did she wait so long to tell him?’
‘I don’t know, Sal, I never asked her… maybe his age or something. I don’t know.’
Tom looks exhausted from answering questions. God love him. I’m exhausted from asking them. Every day there’s something new, some little piece of this sour apple that gets peeled away. Maybe one day we’ll get to the core.
I didn’t intend going to bed so early but when I rested my head on the pillow; bam, I was gone.
The next thing I know, Aaron is tapping me on the face trying to wake me up. Beside me the thunderous grunt of Tom’s snoring echoes through the room. Daylight is creeping through the cracks in the curtain. I decide not to take Aaron into the bed beside me, instead I lift him in my arms and go downstairs.
The silence is beautiful, the haze of mist covering the back garden mystical. Aaron sits on my hip looking out the window with me. He doesn’t ask any questions, just stares at the morning melting into the day in front of his wide-open eyes. His tiny hand wraps around my neck holding on. Reminding me to hold on. The clock says six thirty, we have an hour before all hell breaks loose.
‘What would you like to do, Aaron? Would you like to play with Mammy?’
‘Trains.’ Aaron points to the playroom.
So I swing him up in the air and say, ‘Trains it is.’
I’m sitting on the floor with Aaron pushing his Thomas the Tank collection in every direction, paying no attention to me. I’ve noticed that about him, the way he gets locked into his own world, ignores everything around him until someone comes along and breaks in. It used to send him crazy. There was a time he wouldn’t even let Cian play alongside him but thankfully, thanks to his time in the crèche, that’s changed.
‘Choo-choo, Aaron,’ I say, trying to join in, pushing a train across the carpet but he grabs it off me and holds it close to his chest. I decide to leave Aaron on his own, the way he likes it and go have a shower.
Within the hour everyone is up and eating breakfast somewhere in the house. Amber took her bowl of muesli to her room, Cian is sitting with Tom at the table and I’m putting a bowl of Cheerios into the middle of Tidmouth the fictional town where Aaron currently believes he is living with Thomas and his friends.
I won’t get a chance to talk to Tom with the kids around so I’ll have to ring him on my way to work or maybe arrange to meet him for lunch where we might be able to have a civil conversation about Saoirse, the social worker who is trying to break into my world. Maybe I should throw a tantrum like Aaron used to. Maybe I’ll get used to it like Aaron did.
‘I can’t,’ he says, fixing his tie in the hall mirror. ‘It’s Friday, I always go to the Mayor Inn with the lads for lunch.’
‘Do you not think this is more important, Tom?’
‘I do, Sal, I think it’s a lot more important. But Graham Scholtz is joining us for lunch today and he’s the one who hands out the leads. You know I need some good leads, Sal, especially now.’
What does he mean by ‘especially now’? Kenny? Is he suggesting he didn’t need them before all this? What about when you lost all my money, Tom? I decide not to get into a row with him at this hour of the morning and not in front of the boys.
‘Tonight then, as soon as the boys are asleep.’
‘Grand, do you want me to pick up some wine?’
‘We’re not having a party, Tom.’
Amber comes down the stairs putting an end to our conversation.
‘Who’s taking me today?’ she asks, checking herself in the mirror.
‘Your mother,’ Tom says. ‘I’m taking the boys to the crèche.’
The words send a shiver down my spine. ‘Your mother.’ In one second I imagine the horror of our family broken up. Every chore being divided out. Your mother will be… Your father is… Mom and Dad no longer words we use to refer to one another. For some reason I feel the need to hug everyone; a family hug, but we never do that and it would just feel weird. Instead I go to Amber and pull her hair out from inside the jacket she’s putting on. ‘I love you.’
Amber leans in and hugs me. ‘Love you too, Mom.’
Tom turns and looks at me. Is he waiting? What will I do? Amber stills, her eyes flicking from me to Tom, last night’s row eliciting her interest. I have to hug him now.
Getting into the car Amber says hello to Rena next door who’s coming out of her house with her little boy Owen.
‘What time do you need me to call in tonight?’
‘Seven o’clock?’
‘No probs.’ Amber sits in the passenger seat.
‘She asked me to babysit again.’
‘Well, that’s great, it’s good money too.’
‘It’s slave labour but I’ve no choice, you won’t let me get a proper job.’
‘I’m not going through this again, Amber. You’re too young, you’ll be working all your life, you don’t…’ The headphones are already in place, her head nodding to the beat of some coked-up rapper.
The engine purrs. In the mirror I see Tom putting the boys into the back of his car. To look at the man, you would not believe he had a care in the world. He’s laughing at something one of the boys has said or done. The suit on his back impeccably crisp, the shirt snow white. Shaved and polished he sits in the front of the car and waves at me like there’s nothing going on. Like our whole world is not about to be crushed by his past. I wave back.