Page 51 of A Good Mother
Edmund didn’t need a pulpit to look down on anyone, a place from where to preach, it all came naturally.
‘Where has all this come from? Ihavebeen patient. Allowed you to grieve and never once tried to force you back to work, expected anything more than you’re prepared to give but enough is enough, Robin. Whether you like it or not we cannot continue as we are. You are my wife first, a mother second, and the vicar’s wife third and I expect you to start behaving as such.’
When Robin threw her head back and laughed, the sound wasn’t one of mirth, more like a loud crack that cut through the air like a fork of lightning.
‘Expect. You expect. Well hear this, Edmund. When I married you I expected love, tenderness, kindness, passion, unity, hope even. But all I got from you was a sense of duty, and we all know who comes first on that list. You were the biggest disappointment, Edmund, but I got on with it. I tried and hoped that as time went by you’d learn how to love me properly, the children too, but I might as well have wished on a star because praying didn’t work, and I prayed so hard for us, I really did.
‘But it’s no use. So somehow we need to get on with it, this life, our marriage, and in my case, looking after my child because I might have given up on you, but I will never give up on her. So, this is how it’s going to be…’
Robin then turned and picked up the chair and set it straight before pushing it under the table, resting her hands in the cool wood of the frame, because what she had to say next, she had to get just right. When she looked up, Edmund was waiting.
‘Remember that this is my home, too, even if it’s owned by the church. And this is where I will stay, caring for Willow where she feels safe. If Nate wants to be released from his purgatory, then fine, the sooner the better then I can move into his room. Then the days of us chastely lying side by side can come to an end.
‘You give me no warmth or comfort, and I have no intention of offering any to you. We can live adequately but separately. I won’t cause you any embarrassment and from the outside, the parishioners, the villagers, whoever, will believe the illusion that we’ve created.’
Robin turned side on, a signal that the conversation was ending. ‘It’s your call, Edmund. See it as some kind of test from God, your very own version of a long walk into the desert only for you, it will last more than forty days and nights. It will last for as long as you can bear it.
‘And every time you see me, whenever we cross paths on the landing, each time you sit by Willow’s bed and pray, I hope it reminds you of what you’ve lost and what you could have had.’
She could feel her voice about to crack, such was the depth of feeling, the truth in her departing line.
‘And I hope the devil whispers in your ear and tells you that he’s won because in your devotion to God, you lost the most precious gift of all, your family.’
And with that, not giving him time to respond, Robin turned and left the room.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
GINA
Gina layby Willow’s side, squished together on the bed like they’d done so many times over the years, the three-quarter divan still wide enough for two skinny-minnies. They often spent hours that way, when Gina called, holding hands, staring at the ceiling tracing cracks that had appeared over time. Like lines on the palm of their hand or face, marking time and life.
Sometimes, depending on Willow’s mood and lucidity she would talk, not always making sense, not always for long but Gina loved hearing her voice because for much of the time her friend was locked in a silent room inside her mind.
In those instances, when silence descended, Gina would fill the gap, hoping that her words would seep through the drug-induced fog of Willow’s mind. She’d ramble on about nothing in particular, a soap on telly, the inconsiderate moles that were digging up their garden and the bane of Jimmy and the gardener’s life. Other times, sharing memories of their glory days and funny stories that she swore made Willow smile, just a hint on her lips, a teeny crinkle of the eye.
Mostly, Willow just listened or slept, and sometimes Gina wasn’t sure if her beautiful best friend was even there or knew she was, either. It didn’t matter, though, because no matter what state Gina found Willow in, they were still best friends forever, steadfast, and true.
A month had passed since the last episode, when Gina had called for her weekly chat and Robin, looking drained, had explained in hushed tones about what happened in the kitchen.
And it seemed to Gina that ever since, despite Willow’s medication being altered and calm prevailing, Robin was the opposite, agitated, nervy and often wearing a miles-away expression on her face.
Gina always asked if she was okay, reminding Robin that she was there for her as well as Willow, and was happy to share a problem. But the answer was always the same.
I’m fine, just tired, don’t worry.
And even though Gina didn’t quite believe Robin, who was she to judge? Wasn’t that exactly what she said to Babs when she asked how things were, why she wasn’t eating her carrot cake.
‘I’m fine, just not hungry, don’t worry.’
Whatever was bothering Robin remained a mystery but Gina suspected it was something to do with the worrying nugget of information Babs had passed on.
Perhaps later would be a good time to broach it because they must; the rumours couldn’t be ignored. Gina, Robin, and Babs were having a girls’ get-together. A bite to eat and a catch-up, a good time to tentatively raise the subject. She and Babs had decided, after much rumination that they needed to tell Robin what they knew; then she could decide what to do for the best.
There was another thing on Gina’s mind, stuff she was desperate to share yet still the words wouldn’t come. She could always tell Willow what she’d found at home by eavesdropping on a phone call. She’d regretted it, then didn’t because it proved that Jimmy’s affair was gathering pace and told her that she needed to act.
Turning her head, Gina smiled at her peaceful friend whose eyelids barely fluttered, while a soft whistling-wind escaped from her rose-bud lips as Willow’s chest rose then fell. Her cheeks were flushed pink, reminding Gina of a fair-haired Snow White, waiting for her prince to come. This thought made Gina feel incredibly sad because Nate was no prince; he wasn’t even a good husband. And neither, it seemed, was Jimmy.
By her side Willow roused, shifted position slightly then continued her slumbers but it had jolted Gina from her meanderings and back to the tired bedroom with the fixtures and furnishings that hadn’t changed for years and years. It was weird, how one’s perceptions changed in adulthood, and you began to see places and people through new eyes. Like the vicarage, that to little Gina had seemed huge and posh, with three bedrooms and four rooms downstairs and a giant tiled hallway that was cool in summer and draughty in winter.
