Page 96 of The Fall-Out

‘I found out a few days before you and I went to that gig in Camden.’ He sighed, as if remembering pain that was so distant it had become nothing more than a theoretical concept. ‘She sent me a text meant for some other guy. Maybe she did it on purpose; I don’t know. She’s crazy, Nome. She’s a loose cannon. And you’re seriously saying you’re going to let her get her way over some casual, drunken thing that meant nothing?’

His sudden belligerence alarmed me, then amused me. What did he think I was going to say? Oh, now you put it that way, of course I’ll change my mind?

It had been a pattern in our relationship, I realised: Patch holding out for whatever he wanted, me going along with it for the sake of a quiet life, conscious that I was so lucky to have him, I was punching, I mustn’t do anything that could drive him away, back to Zara.

Well, that ship had sailed. He’d been lured back to her without me having to do anything wrong at all.

‘I don’t really care what Zara wants. Honestly, this isn’t about Zara at all – it’s just that she sees things for what they are. I love the children and I love your mum and I love you – I really, really do, and I always will – but I can’t keep putting myself last. I’ve lost myself somewhere along the way, and I need to?—’

‘To “find yourself”? What is this, Eat, Pray fucking Love?’

I forced a steadying breath into my lungs. ‘Take the piss if you want. I don’t mind. Here’s the thing, though, Patch. You want your life arranged to suit you. Your work, your hobbies, even your sleep. Even sleeping with Zara. It’s not so much that it hurts me, although it does. It’s that you went ahead and did it because it was what you wanted to do, and you didn’t care that it would hurt me and hurt her.’

He turned to me, his mouth twisting with anger that I knew was a mask hiding pain. ‘Oh, so it’s not about you finding yourself, after all. It’s about me being public enemy number one.’

‘You are the person you are. I knew from the get-go – I can’t blame you for it. But it’s because of who you are that I can’t get to be who I want to be.’

‘Lots of women would kill for your life, Naomi. Look at it – great house, lovely kids, not having to go to work, husband who loves you. You don’t know you’re born.’

‘I know. I know I’m lucky and plenty of people would want what I’ve got. But that doesn’t mean it’s all I want. It’s not, and I’m allowed to make that choice.’

‘And anyway, what about the kids? How the hell do you think would work? Because I’m not going to let you have them full time and never see them. They’re my children.’

‘And you’re their father, and they love you. I wouldn’t dream of not letting you see them. The more time you can spend with them, the better.’

He flinched, as if realising he had fallen into a trap. ‘Fine. Then move out if you want to. I’ll keep the children with me and you can rent some poky flat somewhere and live on benefits. See how you like that.’

I sighed. ‘Patch, we’ll have to work all of that stuff out. It isn’t going to be easy, I know. But we both want what’s best for the children.’

‘What’s best for the children is having their mother and father living together under one roof with them.’

‘Not when their mother doesn’t want to be there.’

He stood, the muscles in his legs propelling him powerfully upwards. For a second, I wondered what I’d do if he hit me, but I forgot the thought immediately. Patch had never raised a hand to me and I knew he never would. But his anger was still frightening.

‘I’m not going to stay here and listen to this. You need to get your head straight – get over whatever this craziness is and come to your senses. And then apologise to me.’

I watched as he turned and strode away down the hill, feeling the breath release from my body in a long, weary sigh. It had gone both as well as I’d hoped and as badly as I’d feared. But it was done – I’d taken the first step on the path that led to my future.

And the first step, Andy had always said, was the hardest one.

I waited a few minutes, imagining Patch leaving the park, finding a pub, ordering a pint of Guinness and sitting alone, drinking, calming down, waiting for me to text and say I was sorry, it had all been a mistake.

The grass felt springy under my feet, as if I’d shed a heavy load, as I walked down the hill to fetch my children from their party.

THIRTY-FIVE

My mood of buoyant optimism lasted the rest of the weekend, in spite of Patch giving me the silent treatment, maintaining a face like thunder and only addressing me via the children.

‘Meredith, where did Mummy put Daddy’s gym bag?’

‘I don’t know what a man has to do to get anything to eat in this house, do you, Toby?’

Resolutely, I ignored his sulking. I’d expected it; it was inevitable. He was hurting and this was how he was expressing it.

Still, when I woke alone in our bed on Monday morning, I realised that the sunshine had vanished and with it my positivity. I dragged myself up and embarked on the morning routine, discovering that, unsurprisingly, Patch had already left to go to the gym before work and the children were at their most cantankerous.

By the time I opened the front door to begin the walk to nursery, I’d already endured a screaming fit from Meredith because she didn’t want to wear her raincoat, Toby throwing his breakfast toast on the floor Marmite side down, and the discovery that the back of the sofa was soaked with rain because Patch had left the living room window open.

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