Page 10 of Six Steps to Happiness
“You can’t,” she said, trying to ignore her naughty side.
She looked at the screwdriver again.
“But who’d know?” the little voice asked.
6
Ronnie turned on the cold tap and slushed her face with water. She avoided looking in the bathroom mirror, she didn’t need to, she knew the state she was in. Night after night her mind refused to quieten, and the distinct lack of sleep was taking its toll. To say Ronnie was knackered was an understatement and the previous night’s brain activity no doubt added to her increasingly crazed appearance. She slammed off the tap and headed downstairs in search of some much-needed caffeine.
Her feet dragged as she made her way to the kitchen, thoughts about her recent trip to the loft still whirring through her mind. According to Nick, even as he made the decision to leave, his affair with Gaye hadn’t been going on that long. And as easy as it was for Ronnie to blame his infidelity for their marriage breakdown, things no longer felt so clear-cut. Like it or not, her stroll down memory lane suggested their relationship had begun to unravel well before Gaye came along. Ronnie sighed as she put the kettle on. It was an uncomfortable realisation. “You’re still a cheater though,” she said, refusing to let him off the hook.
Like most couples with children, her and Nick’s life had centred around their offspring, so it came as no surprise to find the loft packed with relics from Willow’s childhood. Drawings dating back as far as pre-school; text and exercise books spanning right up to her college years; a box of numerous trophies that Willow had accumulated…
Their daughter was a fantastic chess player and Ronnie and Nick had spent many a weekend on taxi duty, ferrying Willow to this tournament or that championship. Not that Ronnie and Nick begrudged giving up their time, it was what proud parents did. And leaving Willow to get on with the business of competing, the two of them would go for a long walk or find a little café in which to while away the hours.
As she waited for the kettle to boil, Ronnie recollected their conversations during those times. As much as they loved being a little family of three, she and Nick would often discuss their own dreams come the point when Willow left home to travel or go to university. That was when the two of them would jet off as well. They’d go to Australia, New Zealand, America, and maybe on a cruise. Do all the things they would have done together had two not become three quite so early in their relationship.
The kettle finally clicked off and Ronnie made herself a strong cup of coffee, at the same time wondering where those dreams had gone. It seemed the older and more independent Willow became, the less Ronnie and Nick seemed to talk about their future. Until, thanks to Nick, they had no future at all.
Drinking her coffee, Ronnie knew it was useless to dissect the past. What she really needed to do was get back to earning a living. Having continued to pay the bills as normal, Nick might have been generous on the financial front up until then, but Ronnie wanted to make her own money. She wanted a clean break, to be independent. Besides, if Gaye had her way, Ronnie knew it wouldn’t be long before Nick’s purse strings were knotted once and for all, never to be opened again.
Ronnie stared out of the window and down the garden to her studio, telling herself that instead of standing in the kitchen drinking coffee, she should be out there getting on with it; work was beginning to pile up. She had a collection of seven handbags to design and make for an up-and-coming arts fair, for a start. But despite the growing pressure and looming deadline, she still didn’t know where to begin. Usually a walk in the countryside or a gaze up at the night’s sky would ignite her creative juices. She’d be sketching and fabric dyeing and ordering in all kinds ofpassementerie– textile trimmings like fine cottons, tassels and woven ribbons always did excite her. In recent weeks though, inspiration seemed to be in short supply. The best she’d been able to come up with was theMarriage Breakdowncollection, a range that probably wouldn’t go down well with the bag-buying public.
Ronnie supposed in the meantime she did have her commission to finish – a one-off deep-purple velvet mother-of-the-bride clutch. She frowned; that wasn’t exactly screaming out for attention either. While Ronnie usually loved working on such individual pieces, after recent events, she wanted nothing more than to ring the customer concerned and insist the woman tell her daughter to call the whole thing off. It felt like Ronnie’s public duty to intervene. How else could the bride be saved from the inevitable pain of divorce further down the line?
A knock at the front door interrupted her reverie and putting down her cup, Ronnie went to answer. Opening the door, she stood still, suddenly surprised. She pulled her dressing gown tight over her chest, before trying and failing to straighten her wild bedhead of hair. Having avoided her for weeks, Nick was the last person she expected to see.
Wondering what he wanted, she took in the new version of her husband. Instead of the baggy T-shirt and jeans he always wore, he sported a crisp short-sleeved shirt and pair of chinos. His usual mop of dark curls had been tamed with a short back and sides, and a tad too much Brylcreem. An overall image that, after twenty-five years of marriage, Ronnie knew he wouldn’t be comfortable with. As for his demeanour, Nick looked sheepish, nervous even, like some naughty schoolboy stood outside the headmaster’s office. It wasn’t a wholly unpleasant sight. After the way Nick had treated her, Ronnie considered any discomfort on his part a good thing.
“We need to talk,” he said.
7
Ronnie stared at Nick, dumbfounded. As far as Ronnie was concerned, he’d left her for the next-door neighbour, and unless he was about to tell her they were moving, there wasn’t anything left to say.
“Please?”
Despite his apparent sincerity, Ronnie still thought the man had some cheek. “Talking is what you should have done before you had an affair, Nick. You could have talked instead of packing your bags and leaving.” Images of pizza man and PC Shenton flitted through her mind. “And you certainly should have said something before your girlfriend tried to have me arrested.”
“Well, yes, I’m sorry about that.”
Ronnie wasn’t so sure. “Are you?”
“Of course I am. She was just finding your behaviour a bit difficult to cope with.”
“My behaviour?” Ronnie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A rising heat suddenly surged through her veins, but he wasn’t going to get the better of her, Ronnie was determined to remain calm. “She isn’t exactly sainthood material herself, Nick. Or haven’t you noticed?”
“I’m not here to argue with you, Ronnie.”
It didn’t sound that way.
Nick gestured inside. “May I?”
His eyes locked on hers and unable to remember the last time he’d looked at her so intently, Ronnie felt unnerved. “What choice do I have?” she said, masking her unease with a glance up and down the street. “I think the neighbours know enough of our business already, don’t you?” Standing aside to let him in, she closed the door before following him down the hall to the kitchen.
She stood in silence, waiting for him to speak. Whatever it was he wanted, she had no intention of making things easy.
“I want to start by saying I’m sorry,” Nick said.
