Page 47 of Always Alchemy

‘I mean, I agree with all of it, obviously,’ I say with a shrug, ‘but still, it’s a big step. Have you had some help? Do you have a lawyer? Dad’s a pretty astute guy—he’s not going to appreciate having you go all unilateral on him. His pride will take a massive hit, for one thing. Do you want us to find you representation? I’d definitely advise having all your ducks in a row before you drop the bombshell.’

Honestly, it’s worrying. Mum’s someone who’s lived in a very patriarchal relationship for most of her adult life. Dad’s always been the financial expert, Mum the homemaker. I’m not sure she’d know one end of a direct debit form from the other, and I’m definitely not confident she has the wherewithal to shore up her defences against an opponent who happily resorts to bullying when he’s backed into a corner. Especially when it’s a corner of his own making.

‘I have some friends who’ve been advising me,’ Mum says now, looking a bit flustered. She swivels the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. ‘Verity’s been great, actually.One of her friends just took her ex-husband to the cleaners—not that I’m intending to do that to your father, of course—and introduced me to her lawyer. He says I have an excellent case, your father’s lack of willingness in a divorce notwithstanding.’

‘That’s great, Mum,’ Belle says. ‘God, I can’t believe you’ve been going through all this alone! You could have told us, you know. We’d have helped you through it.’

‘I haven’t been alone.’ Mum flushes slightly. ‘Charles has also been very supportive.’

This focaccia is criminally good. There’s a time and a place to go light on carbs, but lunch at Daphne’s definitely isn’t one of them. I put it on top of the circle of olive oil on my side plate and press down so it soaks up every drop.

‘Who’s Charles?’ I ask idly.

She raises her eyebrows in adon’t be obtuse,dearway.

‘Oh myGod,’ Belle hisses, leaning forward. ‘Not Max’s dad?’

‘Yes, actually.’ She shifts in her seat.

I abandon my oil-soaked bread in shock. ‘Wait—you’re telling me you and Charles have stayed in touch?’ This is a total fucking bombshell—almost as much of a bombshell as the divorce news. My cognitive whirlwind is quickly escalating to a tornado, because our wedding was six months ago now.

Belle’s jaw is on the floor too, though she looks pleased as punch.‘Mum!You little flirt! Have you been carrying on with another man on the side?’

‘Of course not.’ Mum manages to look morally outraged. ‘It’s simply—we shared some confidences at the wedding, and he was very kind. Very, shall we say,broad-minded,which was a bit of a novelty for me. We stayed in touch by text message, and…’

‘And what?’ I drawl. I’m fucking tickled pink. I can’t wait to tell Max about this, though I have a feeling it won’t surprise him. He made some offhand comment after our honeymoon about his dad being quite taken by my mum, but I laughed it off.Obviously.Mum’s an attractive woman, and Charles is, I’m sure, lonely, but she’s married. End of story.

At least, I thought it was.

‘And it turned into a monthly lunch at Le Gavroche,’ Mum says, appearing to find the contents of her wineglass fascinating. She’s bashful! Oh my God.

‘Okay, sorry to be crass,’ my sister says, swiping her fingertips over her forehead, ‘but are we talking a romance here? Are you leaving Dad for Charles? Or is it more like something you might explore when the divorce has gone through?’

‘I’m not leaving your father for anyone,’ Mum says quickly, ‘but it’s a fair question, and it deserves an honest answer. You’re both adults, and you’ve proven how courageous you can be when it comes to standing up for the kind of happiness you deserve, so let me be as frank as I can with you.

‘Spending time with Charles has definitely given me some perspective on how men can be, on how friendships, even, between men and women can be. Your father’s always been very good to me, in the ways he knows how, obviously. We’ve had a lovely life.

‘But the world has changed, and you two have helpedmechange, and the way your dad looks at everything just seems to be to be so, I don’t know, antiquated and intransigent, and I swear he’s getting worse every year. He’s retreating into what seems to be a safe space for him, but it feels more like a rabbit hole.’

She sighs. ‘I’m tired of it, frankly, and he’s retreated so far that there’s no common ground left. Besides, he’s broken up our family, and I’ll never be able to forgive him for it.

‘When I was sitting with Charles at your wedding and then at the reception dinner,’ she says to me, ‘I kept waiting to feel that shot of fear and panic that he’d act out and get into one of those awful rages, and of course he didn’t, because he’s not like your father. The way he sees the world, and your relationship, is how I feel it should be viewed: as something wonderful and exciting and awe-inspiring andliberating.I think that’s it, really. I don’t feel free with your father. I have to constantly watch my words. I feel like I’m even censoring my thoughts sometimes! And I’m jolly sick of it.’

Belle’s face is pale. I despondently pour us all some more wine before stuffing that squishy square of focaccia into my mouth.

‘God, Mum, that’s so depressing,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling like this, but I’m so, so proud of you for realising that you’re free to walk away at any time. It takes so much courage to do that, and I hope you know that we’ll be right beside you for the whole thing.’

‘What she said,’ I say with my mouth full.

‘Thank you, my darlings,’ Mum says, smiling at both of us in turn. ‘I’m sure it won’t be easy, and the more traditional side of me baulks at the idea that I’m walking away from the man I’ve always loved and leaving him to grow old alone.’

‘He’ll be free to become a monk now,’ I say, and Belle snorts.

‘You’re dreadful,’ Mum says with a small smile.

‘He won’t be alone,’ my sister says blithely. ‘He’ll have God, and he’ll be absolutely fine living in splendid isolation.’

‘I have to tell you,’ Mum says, screwing up her face like she’s in pain. ‘There was one thing he said a couple of months ago—it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, I think. At the very least, I felt a lot better about the path I’d gone down. It came out of his mouth, and I looked at him in that moment, and I simply could not see the loving, devout man I’d married.’

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