Crazy Over You Page 8

  “How’s it going in here?” Lucy asked, poking her head round the corner as Abby admired her own matching fingers and toes.

  “Lovely, thank you,” Melissa enthused.

  “It’s actually been great,” Abby added, sounding a little too surprised.

  “I’m so pleased! Come find me when you’re done.” Lucy grinned. With a spring in her step, she closed the door.

  Watching her, Abby couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Lucy must have only been in her early twenties and yet here she was with her own business. Clearly she had set goals and achieved them. Being nearer forty than thirty, and her recent change in circumstances, had made Abby begin to question her own achievements in life. As awful as she found her current situation she hoped that in the future she might find the strength to use the catalyst to alter her life for the better. Maybe change her work-life balance, see more, do more, dare to have some fun (like everbody kept telling her to). She just had to figure out where the strength might be hiding to actually achieve that. Hmm!

  Feeling more than a bit bolstered by her new immaculate fingernails and elegantly pedicured feet Abby shocked herself by not wanting the experience, the very experience she had dreaded so much, to end. She was enjoying being somebody else, somebody not like herself at all. It was all new to her and far removed from her usual realm of experience, one small step for most women but a giant leap for Abigail Turner. The day had been a revelation and going home meant facing Simon and reality.

  “Is it still possible to have that eyebrow wax?” she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she had quite thought through their consequences.

  Excited to be getting her hands on Abby’s virgin eyebrows, Tanya flew into action while Melissa scrambled for excuses to avoid having hers touched and asked Abby several times if she was quite sure about having it done.

  Fuelled with determination and deciding resolutely not to let the theme to Edward Scissorhands inflame her nerves Abby assumed a reclined position and awaited Tanya’s full attention. Attention which, prior to feeling Tanya’s warm breath on her cheek, Abby hadn’t realised would be quite so in her face; the moment made more awkward by the fact that Tanya stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on carefully smearing on the warm wax.

  “Be careful! You don’t want it in the hair you want to keep,” Mindy interrupted.

  An unwelcome quiver of nerves rippled through Tanya’s hand before she sucked in a breath and assured, “Don’t worry, I know what shape I’m going for.”

  Once the wax had been applied, Tanya smoothed a little strip into place and waited for it to cool off. Tension building, she eventually took hold of one of the unattached corners and Abby braced herself.

  “Don’t pull up. Remember, pull along,” Mindy advised, now also leaning over Abby and taking on the role of tutor.

  The interruption caused Abby to breathe, lose focus and release the tension from her body just as Tanya held her skin taut and pulled.

  Abby screamed, “Holly fuck!” Eyebrow burning and eyes streaming, she stared at the now three stunned faces looking down on her – even Melissa hadn’t quite expected that!

  “What?” Abby demanded. “What is it?”

  Momentarily they gazed at her, stunned, before Melissa replied, “You swore!”

  Relief flooded through Abby as she spoke.

  Chapter 12

  Abby felt a sensation she hadn’t felt in too long: beneath the layers of confusion still present in her mind, she sensed a touch of pride. She felt a bit silly about it. As if the word and the funny feeling she had inside outweighed her achievements, but nonetheless it was there – like the first tiny flicker of light before a match blooms into flame, it was there. She was well aware that all she had actually done was have a manicure, pedicure and an eyebrow wax but in doing that she had forced herself beyond her usual realm of experience, beyond where she felt comfortable, and enjoyed it. Baby steps, Mallory had advised, and baby steps she had taken. She also felt proud that thoughts of Simon hadn’t dominated her day; yes, there had been flashes of insecurity, wobbles, even moments of feeling utterly overwhelmed (almost throwing up outside the lingerie shop was a low point, she had to admit), but on the whole she had made the day her own.

  As Melissa pulled away, Abby stared at Simon’s car in the driveway. Having left her phone off until the journey home Abby had missed his text saying that the girls were getting bored, and his subsequent offer to take them home and do their tea. She hadn’t answered but presumably he had taken her lack of response as acquiescence because now he was there. Despite the thump back down to reality of knowing she was going straight in to face him Abby took a breath, glanced at her array of shopping bags clasped in her neatly manicured hands and determined that nothing was going to let her little glimmer of light get snuffed into darkness.

  Entering the house undetected, Abby quietly popped her shopping bags into the cupboard under the stairs. She didn’t need to hide them from Simon, he wouldn’t have minded the money being spent; in fact he always tried to encourage her to treat herself, insisting that despite the huge disparity in their salaries the money was equally theirs to spend. Even in their current circumstances he hadn’t questioned any of their finances and had promised that no matter what, Abby and the girls would never want for money. She believed him too. Simon had watched his mum lose everything when she and his dad divorced and he never wanted his family to experience the same; they would never have to live as he had as a child. No, it really wasn’t about the money. Abby stowed the bags away because she just wanted to keep them hers; her day and her new things bought for her to enjoy.

  Still undetected, Bramble being under the table awaiting any chance crumbs, Abby stood in the kitchen doorway watching them – her family all where they should be, together in their house. She stared, more than a bit amazed that Simon had cooked spaghetti bolognaise. He was being the perfect daddy, all smiles and time to share. The girls were lapping up both the attention and the dinner without complaint – even though Abby could see he’d forgotten the cheese they always insisted she sprinkle on top.

  “Mummy!” Grace’s eyes sparkled as she spotted her mummy and bellowed the word.

  “Hey gorgeous girlies, have you been good?” Abby greeted each of the girls with a kiss on the head.

  “Of course!” Jessica responded cheekily.

  Simon looked surprised and was momentarily thrown by Abby’s appearance. “Wow! You look… great; so… so relaxed.”

  Abby smiled. “Thank you, it was a good day.”

  Simon waited for more but Abby wasn’t forthcoming with a further explanation. Filling the silence, he sprung from his seat. “Would you like a tea? Have you eaten? Kerry sent it round; I’ve heated enough for you too.”

  That explains the sudden culinary skills. Abby declined the offer of food despite being hungry. “I’m good thanks, don’t worry though, it’ll freeze. The girls seem to love it.” Guilt spread through her as she saw the wounded look on Simon’s face. She busied herself with the mail to help fight the urge to retract her response.

  Agreeing to let Simon stay and help put the girls to bed made sense on one level – Simon seeing their routine in action saved Abby explaining it all in an email for when she went away – but on another level she found it exacerbated her frustrations. Watching Simon behave like the loving, sweet daddy he had been when Jessica was little, the daddy Abby knew he really was, and having him there with her was exactly what she had wanted for so long, but under the circumstances she knew it wasn’t real. If her heart wasn’t already in pieces it would have shattered.

  Abby wasn’t sure why she asked Simon to stay and have a drink with her after the girls were settled. Maybe it was to say thank you for taking them for the day, maybe it was because she was enjoying the happy-family mirage and didn’t want it to end, or maybe it was simply that she hated the thought of watching him leave again; at the time she didn’t question it. But as they sat on the sofa, Bramble nuzzled be
tween them, relishing their attention, she began to think she had made a mistake. There was an awkward silence in the room as the weight of things unsaid lay too heavily in the atmosphere. Previously, she had always felt so at ease in his presence – comfortable to simply be with him – but now the silence compounded how strained things felt between them.

  Abby sipped her martini and searched the room for a distraction. As she looked at the bookcase she wondered if Simon would notice that their wedding picture was missing. Before he could follow her eyes she looked away and noticed that the answerphone was flashing. Good, something to break the silence. Leaning across, she pressed play. There was a message from her mum asking if she would see her before she went away, and one from Kennedy:

  “Hey, what have you been up to? Sounds exciting. I need details!”

  It was a response to a text Abby sent on the way home, hinting at her day. Simon raised an eyebrow and Abby smiled. But as the third message began to play, her smile faded and she froze.

  “Hey, it’s me, just wanted you to know I meant what I said earlier, and I’m happy to oblige any time.” Bradley’s voice, too teasing, too jolly, too friendly, spilt into the already laden atmosphere of the room.

  Simon sat completely still, staring at Abby. She didn’t look at him but she was well aware he was looking straight at her. A hot flush blazed across her neck and cheeks. Wanting to be free from his gaze she went to stand, but Bramble tumbled to the floor and stretched at her feet, preventing her escape.

  “Abby, wait! Who was that? What… What is it? What did you do?” Simon scrambled for words, trying to fathom the messages and Abby’s response.

  Abby couldn’t believe the implied accusation. Instantly cross that she was suddenly erroneously feeling like the one with a guilty secret to hide, she turned. Anger burning in her eyes, she seethed, “Really Simon? Really? You want to question me? Question my behaviour? Because let me tell you, I am not the one in the wrong here. I have so many questions firing round my head all the bloody time I can barely think straight. My mind is a mess, most of the time I think I am going crazy, and where are my answers? Where the hell is the explanation you owe me?” Aware that she was hitting him repeatedly with a cushion as she spoke, Abby forced herself to stop. She sat, fighting back angry tears and staring wildly at him.

  Simon looked on, stunned, taking in Abby’s anger – the hurt branded in her eyes, the fury on her face and the ferocity with which she spat every word.

  “Abby, I’m sorry! I am so, so sorry.” Tears welled in his eyes. “If I could take it all back I would. I hate what I did. I hate myself, but most of all I hate how much I’ve hurt you. I know it’s all just words…”

  Like wedding vows, she seethed inwardly.

  “But I mean it, please Abby, I love you. Let me prove to you that you can trust me. I know I don’t deserve it but please… Abby, give me – give us – a chance.” He spoke each word fired with determination to make her listen; she had to know how much he regretted what happened.

  Abby didn’t respond. She couldn’t trust herself; who knew what would come out of her mouth if she spoke – something fuelled by anger, words she couldn’t take back, or worse, she might say something to make him feel better and she had sworn to herself she wouldn’t do that. He didn’t deserve it. He should feel bad, he should be sorry. Only the sound of her breathing was audible in the room as what felt like several minutes passed before Simon spoke again, quieter this time, less desperate.

  “What do you want to know? Abby… You could ask me. I’ll answer what I can.”

  “Don’t be stupid. The things in my head… I need too many details… it’d be too weird. You wouldn’t answer.”

  “Abby, I want us to get over this. I want you to love me again. If it will help I will answer what I can.”

  For the first time in weeks Abby’s mind went completely blank. She tried desperately to think of all the things she wanted to know as nothing instantly sprung to mind; instead the saying be careful what you wish for, one of Eleanor’s favourites, spun over and over in her head. Abby sat, momentarily unsure that she actually wanted to know anything. Then it struck her: her mind was crippled with not knowing the details – would knowing really make it worse? Perhaps it would make it better? She stopped holding back. She took a deep breath and before she could think on it any more she released the spectre of morbid curiosity that had yearned for this moment.

  Chapter 13

  Dear Helen – younger, thinner (who knew my husband would be such a midlife crisis cliché?) Helen,

  Earlier this year you slept with my husband. After your chats in the bar you knew I existed and that we had children but you didn’t care!

  Until that moment Simon had only ever slept with me and our wedding vows were unbroken. Does that mean anything to you? Because it did to me! I had loved him since I was twenty-one and he was so very important to me. Not always a great husband, not always a great daddy, not always perfect but MINE! My best friend, my husband, my forever. For almost half our lives we had been together; it had always been just the two of us – our dreams, our family and our future.

  I hope sleeping with him was worth it because in that moment, in that drunken, selfish moment, the first time you did it, you knew about me and yet you didn’t care. How nasty do you have to be? How narcissistic to think only of your gratification? To sleep with someone – not yours – and not care about my life, my family, my beautiful girls! Almost half our lives spent together, fifteen years, all gone just to have sex, all thrown away so easily. All meaning nothing for the pleasure of cumming!

  And after that first night the two of you concocted your lies together, extending his trip to Washington – how clever you must have felt! How easy for you both it all was – just lie to me, I’m worthless, who cares about me? I am so stupid, so trusting, so unsuspecting. Who cares if I am left home, alone, to do EVERYTHING?!!!!! I’ll cope, I’ll get on – it’s what I do!

  Did you enjoy your week with my husband? Sleeping with him again and again, holding him, kissing him, touching him, waking up with him? I hope it was truly worth it! And how truly nasty do you have to be to keep speaking to him, to text him, to call him after – once he was home – all the time knowing I was here and we had a life together?

  I didn’t know it then of course but the countdown was on. It took me – stupid, loving, trusting me – a few weeks to realise, to put it all together, before I managed to actually catch him in our bed reading your text! To see it all so plainly, spelt out for me in your horrible I-love-and-miss-you-babe casual, uncaring, unthinking, selfish, stomach-churning text!

  Nothing will ever be the same again. You broke my heart and destroyed my love and trust. You shattered our lives together. I hope it was worth it because now, months on, I still don’t know how to live with it. I think about it every hour of every day! Did you feel special? Did you feel like you were important having him lie, lie, lie, LIE for you? Changing his plans, missing work to spend time with you – just to fuck you?

  What a horrible, nasty person you must be! You ripped our world apart. I hate you so much. I hate what you did. I hate the nasty lies. I hate you being in my life, the things you have done to me and the fact that the horrible, disgusting, selfish things you did are in MY FUCKING HEAD!!!!

  Abby stopped. She put the lid on her pen. She didn’t read back over what she had put, but she looked across the page, enjoying the sight of her own words, her feelings, in her book. She hadn’t expected to get her homework done before the residential but her talk with Simon had inspired her; her head had been left reeling and she had to let it all out, let the rancour in her mind spill word by word onto the page. What Mallory would make of it Abby didn’t know but writing it had at least been a huge release!

  Before going to bed Abby knew there was one more thing she must do. Opening her diary she sighed, removed the lid of her pen and made a note: Visit the clap clinic!

  Eurgh! Simon had said they had been safe but hearing th
e sordid details made it all so horribly, disgustingly real. Abby had slept with Simon after his trip to Washington, before she knew, and she wanted to be sure she hadn’t caught anything. She looked at the words in her diary and wished she knew the proper name; she was sure ‘clap clinic’ wasn’t right. She would have to check the Embarrassing Bodies website to see if that enlightened her. It was all so horrible, another experience beyond her comfort zone that she had never expected to face – only this one she was pretty sure wouldn’t turn out to be enjoyable.

  Chapter 14

  The forty-minute ferry ride to the Isle of Wight was choppy to say the least. Ninety children bustled around the café as they were allowed to leave the coach, stretch their legs and visit the toilet. The teachers seized the moment for a hit of caffeine and kept watch for children going green as the boat rolled from side to side. Abby already missed Jessica and Grace but as she watched Portsmouth disappear from view she was pleased to be heading off on an adventure – a fabulous distraction from everything at home. Encouraged by the bubbling children she felt an air of anticipation growing inside her, maybe even a touch of excitement! As the dramatic Jurassic coastline grew in the Solent-splashed window they returned to their coaches and waited expectantly for the final part of the journey to begin.

  Twenty minutes on and they were winding their way along a sparse country road, enthusiasm waning as the coach swayed from side to side; even the cheekiest children in the back seat had given up pulling faces at the teachers in the coach behind. “Are we nearly there yet?” droned with increasing frequency from the travel-weary children. Abby watched carefully, wondering which of her three known motion sickness sufferers might erupt first. Ironically, as she attempted to calculate how many hours it had been since their foreboding parents had dosed them up and waved goodbye she couldn’t help but notice Jake Price, a child not on her ones-to-watch list, turn a pasty shade of grey. Realising this was not a good sign she flew from her seat, sick bucket in hand, and reached him just as the entire contents of his stomach left his mouth in one huge heave.