Page 6 of Not Moving Out
‘Cheers,’ I said, knocking my glass gently against hers.
‘Right, so how did the big marriage summit go?’
‘Honestly? Pretty shit. It felt like he didn’t care enough, Mum. The old happy-go-lucky, passionate Joe, the man I married, would have done more. He would have fought for us, gone to couples’ counselling at least, but he just accepted everything and agreed to move into the spare room with barely a whimper. It’s like all the failures with his writing, all the rejections, the bad reviews, each one has stripped away layers of him, and now he’s just fragments of the man I fell in love with.’
‘People change,’ replied Mum. ‘I would never have imagined that your father would have become the man he did when we walked down the aisle. Not that he cheated on me or did anything particularly awful, but he just became boring. He stopped living, stagnated in his shed, while I took care of everything. Although he seems happy now with whatsername in Jersey, so maybe it was just me. People do strange things when they get older and realise they’re far closer to death than they’d like. Middle age is a weird time, darling.’
‘I know, and I’m to blame, too. I could have done more. Tried harder. Maybe I could have gone to couples’ counselling on my own, but I expected more from him. It’s like he’s wilting, and it’s sad to see, but I can’t make him care. I can’t make him better.’
‘It isn’t your job, either.’
‘It also just feels like over time we simply changed, and the newer versions of us weren’t as compatible as the older ones. It’s like when you upgrade your iPhone to the newest iOS and realise some of the old apps don’t work any more. The old us when Joe was successful, whenThe Morningswas flying high in the BBC ratings, was perfect. Then whenLoosely Translatedflopped, and his career fell off a cliff, we sort of did, too. All the years of financial pain, living mainly off my income and some residual payments fromThe Mornings, all of it took away small chunks of our relationship, dug into it and scooped out bits of our happiness.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry, but I’m sure you did all you could.’
‘Then why do I feel like a complete and utter failure, Mum?’
That was the crux of the issue for me. Since I was a little girl, I had always been a high achiever. I hated failing at anything: school, sports or keeping plants alive. I was captain of the school netball team, and my desire to win and hatred of losing were my key attributes. My parents always said I was the little girl who never gave up on anything, illustrating this with the family myth about our guinea pig, Nutty. Apparently, when I was eight years old, I found him dead in his cage one morning, and tried to resuscitate him – mouth-to-mouth because I had seen it onBlue Peter, although obviously not with a small hairy rodent. Determination was, and had always been, my biggest personality trait. I wasn’t the most intelligent pupil in school because that award always went to Nicola Birch, but it didn’t stop me from trying to get better GCSE results than her. I ultimately failed but I never gave up and only missed completely straight As by getting that one bloody B in geography – thanks, Mr Morgan! When we had Dolly, and with Joe doing so well in his career, I stopped training to be a solicitor to stay at home and raise Dolly. I hated stopping my training, but it was for the best job in the world of being a mum. However, the minute Joe’s career started fading, and Dolly was in school, I returned to the world of law and became a paralegal. Now, with my marriage all but over, and Dolly moving away to university, I was exploring the possibilities of becoming a full-time solicitor once again. I hated failing at anything, but the problem with marriage was that it needed two people to believe in it, and not give up.
‘Trust me, darling, the last thing you are is a failure!’ said Mum with a sort of Blitz spirit in her voice.
‘Thank you,’ I said, reaching across the island and placing my hand softly over hers.
‘You are welcome, and if you need anything, you know I’m here for you. Me and Martin.’
‘Oh, right, yes. How is Marma, I mean, Martin and the haemorrhoids?’
‘He’s been better, but he’ll be fine. He’s got a classic car show in Gloucestershire next weekend, so hopefully he can drive to that. His old Austin-Healey has about as much suspension as a cheese grater, so it’s a bit of a sore ride at the best of times.’
‘Poor old Martin.’
‘Poor old me. He wants me to apply the haemorrhoid cream!’
‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, laughing, and then taking a sip of my wine. Maybe Mum was right and a good natter and a glass of wine were helping. Mum fetched a bowl of olives, some crackers and cheese, which she put out on the island for us to nibble on, before she looked across at me.
‘Are you one hundred per cent sure you and Joe are done? Are you completely convinced your marriage is over?’
‘I fear our marriage is like one of Martin’s old cars.’
‘Cars? Sorry, you’ve lost me.’
‘You know how some cars gradually get worse over time, slowly bit by bit they break, you try and fix them, but one day you realise you’ve done your best, but it’s time to trade it in for a newer model? Other cars have a massive crash, and they’re immediately a write-off. I think Joe and I just gradually came to a halt, and despite having a good look under the bonnet, we’ve both realised it’s probably just fucked.’
‘You’re sure there’s no chance you’ll be able to get it back on the road?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I said glumly because it made me incredibly sad. ‘And the worst part is that we’re stuck together in that house. We can’t afford to sell it at the moment, we can’t afford to rent something else, and so we’re just stuck together.’
‘What about when Dolly is gone?’ said Mum, before she popped a large green olive in her mouth.
‘I have no idea.’
‘You do know I’m more than happy to help. I could give you some money, we have the spare room here, so you can always stay with us, and—’
‘Mum, we will figure this out, but thank you.’
‘Well, if you change your mind, you know where I am.’
I appreciated Mum’s offer, but the truth was I would need a lot of money to get back on my feet, and I didn’t want to burden her with that. Plus, I was an adult, I had got myself into this situation, I would somehow get myself out of it. Despite Joe’s lack of concern and emotion when it came to us, I was still a fighter with a career in law, and I would find a workable solution because that’s what I was good at. I was a problem solver.
