Page 29 of Escape to the Country

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As I ran out of the flat, he’d tried to follow me but got the sheet wrapped around his leg and fell over the coffee table, and the last words I heard leave his mouth were, ‘Ouch! Fucking fuck, bollocks, fuck, shit!’ Charming. No: ‘Sorry, Maddy.’ No: ‘Maddy, don’t go.’ No: ‘It’s not what you think’ (although it would have been pretty hard to get out of that one). No explanation; nothing. And not one bit of sympathy for what had happened over the last few days. All those words that could have possibly repaired the damage to our lives, yet he couldn’t find a single one.

Giddywell would always be my home and Mum welcomed me with open arms when she saw me standing on her doorstep with tears streaming down my face. She knew what it took for me to trust someone in my life and how devastated I was. I knew that I would never be the same again and the impact of first the miscarriage and then his infidelity would affect me forever. I went through a stage of not wanting to leave the house, didn’t want to bump into people. I just wanted my mum to look after me. She seemed to know how I felt.

A quick text from me to Jamie telling him to pack his things and leave was the only contact we’d had. And I hadn’t heard a word since. Until this.

Part of me wanted to meet him because I was intrigued and wondered why the hell he was getting in touch now. Part of me wanted to go to just punch him in the face then leave. But that wouldn’t be very dignified of me, even though it would be quite satisfying. And the other part of me wanted to screw the note up into a little ball and throw it onto an open fire and pretend I’d never seen it. I hadn’t a clue what to do. I needed to talk to Beth and see what she said, although I could probably imagine. I knew it was early, but when I looked out of my window, her bedroom curtains were open so I knew she was awake and I grabbed my fleece off the back of a dining room chair, popped my shoes on and headed over to the farmhouse.

As I walked into the kitchen, my shoes click-clacked across the old stone floor. This house was amazing, so cosy and simply furnished in a mishmash of styles, which all perfectly blended with the décor. It had beautiful cast iron open fireplaces in every room, which in winter were all lit permanently, making it a place you never wanted to leave. There wasn’t a soul around and I breathed in the familiarity of this big old beautiful house. The long, wood-panelled hallway led to the most stunning sweeping staircase that I had always loved and a curved polished wooden banister that we all used to slide down as kids and come to a flying stop just before we hit the huge sideboard at the bottom. I used to imagine myself gracefully gliding down the stairs, channelling my inner Scarlet O’Hara, in a stunning ball gown and elbow-length white silk gloves, ready to meet my beau (Alex, it was always Alex in my dreams) who would be anticipating my arrival at the foot of the stairs, dressed in a frockcoat, tails and boots, to whisk me away in his arms, to dance elegantly in the ballroom, unable to tear his eyes away from me.

Pushing these silly teenage fairy tale notions away, I went straight up to Beth’s room, knocked and entered to find her propped up in bed, reading. I threw the letter at her, and she frowned as she read it. ‘What the fucking fuck?’

‘I know! That was exactly my reaction too.’

‘Well, please tell me that there’s not even one tiny bit of you that wants to actually go.’ She passed me the letter back.

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Not sure?You are kidding, right?’

‘Well, I thought perhaps I’d just go and see what he’s got to say. There’s just a little bit of me that’s curious about why he’s getting in touch now.’

‘Clearly, he’s after something. Where’s he been for the last three years? Shagging his way round Europe by the look of his Facebook page, which I’ve always got my eye on.’

‘OK, so you don’t think I should go then?’ I smiled at her.

‘No, I bloody well don’t. I don’t even want to discuss it any more. He cheated on you at a time when he should have been supporting you. He left you broken and devastated. How can you even think of it? I’ll not speak about it again, Maddy. That’s the end of the conversation. OK?’

‘Oh, OK, you’d better tell me how you are then.’

Beth talked to me for the next ten minutes, but to tell the truth, I had absolutely no idea what she said. I was finding it difficult to process anything she was saying. I was just thinking about the fact that despite Beth’s good intentions and advice, the half of me that was telling me to get dressed up, show him what he was missing and see what it was all about was overtaking the half of me that thought I shouldn’t go.

* * *

Excusing myself by saying I had the beginnings of a headache, I went back over to the barn and put the TV on to fill the time before Mum arrived. There was a cooking programme on, and I was watching it but not taking any of it in. My mind was all over the place, dredging up memories both good and bad about how Jamie had changed my life for what I thought was the better, then stolen it all away.

But he was also the man who I had given everything to and had loved with all my heart. The man I’d met at a cocktail party I’d gone along to on behalf of Ronington’s. The man who had seen me standing alone and come over to talk to me, saying that I looked beautiful but alone. The man who worked for a rival PR company and knew all about me and my work life. He’d obviously done his research. The man who had then wooed me for weeks, gently edging his way into my life, making himself so indispensable that in the end I couldn’t bear to live without him. The man who knew I had relationship issues and one Christmas gave me a box with a key to his house and a toothbrush to leave there. The man who eventually asked me to move in, saying surely that was proof of his commitment to me. The man who, if he got home from work first, and I’d had a long and stressful day, would run me a bath, light candles and welcome me at the front door with a rum and Coke and let me luxuriate in a long soak while he cooked dinner.

He was the man I had given my whole heart to. I loved our life and it was no hardship to me to put everything on hold and devote my whole life to him, to the detriment of my friends and Mum, I realised later, although I didn’t see it at the time. I loved him so intensely and really thought that he was the love of my life and the centre of my world.

We had an amazing life together. With two fantastic salaries coming in, we had the best of everything. We went on the most exotic holidays; the two weeks we spent in the Maldives were the best of my life, just him and me in a stunning water bungalow, overlooking the sparkling turquoise sea, with tropical fish swimming around our ankles as we dangled our feet over the decking. I felt so incredibly loved at that time, walking around the island, holding hands and drinking cocktails, gazing at the most glorious sunsets from the Sundowner bar.

Just a normal weekend for us was filled with shopping and hospitality. We’d walk into the local town and share a bottle of wine, chatting about everything and nothing. We had designer everything. For me, it was handbags and sunglasses. For him, it was suits and ties. Sometimes he was just a little flash and cocky though. I remembered the day that he bought his Tag Heuer watch and flashed it around in the pub. When the bar guy admired it, he said that he had paid more for his watch than the bar guy would earn in a month and laughed. I laughed along with him but then afterwards realised that what he’d said was cruel and crass. Money was no object to either of us, but it wasn’t until afterwards that I realised these were just things.

When I didn’t have Jamie any more, my Dolce and Gabbana handbag didn’t seem to hold the same appeal. In fact, it was my birthday the week before I found him with Alisa and he bought me a star, which was the most romantic thing that he had ever done. I was so touched to read the dedication on the certificate, which said ‘This star will last as long as my love for you.’Just the week then, tosser!

What I remembered vividly now was how my whole world came crashing down around me just a week later. Just thinking about it reminded me of how it made me feel at the time, and made my heart thump a million beats per minute. I would never have said I was an anxious person, but this was the start of a very long period of not being able to cope with anything at all. A couple of months off work, with Mum looking after me, really helped, but I knew that I would never be the same again. I was totally gutted. I clearly didn’t mean as much to him as he did to me or he would never have betrayed me in this way. And I hadn’t heard a word from him till now. So why would he get in touch suddenly?

There was a little voice on one shoulder saying, ‘Don’t you bloody dare go and see that scumbag,’ and the other voice, which needed closure, which was yelling way, way louder: ‘Go on, go and meet him and see what he has to say.’

15

Mum knocked on the door and walked straight in around ten thirty and I was still sat in my jimjams. ‘Come on, lady, shake a leg! We can talk more as we drive into town.’

Grabbing the quickest shower I’d ever had and throwing on jeans, a t-shirt and a hoody, which seemed to be my style these days, I ran back downstairs to see Mum gazing out of the barn window across the farmland. Putting my arm around her, I rested my head on her shoulder and we stood for a moment or two, no words needed, both of us in our own thoughts.

I broke the silence. ‘We should make a move, Mum.’

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