Page 35 of Jenny James Is Not a Disaster
“Then maybe you should trust her judgment?” I say quietly. “If she’s forgiven you, maybe it’s time to start forgiving yourself?”
I wonder, as I say this, how I would have reacted if Rob had ever asked my forgiveness—if I would be as open to it. I’ll never really need to know, because it simply never happened. Rob is not built from the same stuff as Luke.
He turns to meet my eyes, and there is a moment of connection there that is so deep and genuine that it terrifies me. I want to get up and run for my emotional life.
“That,” he replies, “sounds like a very wise idea. Maybe I’ll manage to try it someday. So, in response to your original question—you definitely got more than you expected with that one, didn’t you?”
“I did. But that’s okay. Please carry on.”
“Well, after that, I moved into a hotel for a while. I continued to be the high priest of self-destruction, until I hit rock bottom. I woke up naked in Regent’s Park, without my clothes, wallet, watch, or briefcase. To this day, I have no idea what happened—but I do remember getting poked on the arse with a stick by an elderly woman walking her dog. It was one of those moments you don’t cast aside.”
“I can imagine.” But I’m lying here and I can’t imagine it. I can’t imagine this big, capable man so utterly stripped of dignity,in so much pain. It hurts to even picture it, and despite what he’s told me, I still feel overwhelmed with sympathy.
“Anyway, as wake-up calls go, that was a pretty spectacular one. I did some serious thinking about what I was doing with my life, and whether this was the kind of behavior Katie would want to see her dad indulging in. Once I phrased it to myself like that, it was easy—I shed my skin.
“I negotiated a payoff with the company I worked for, I sold the properties we owned, and Sally and I decided on divorce. I told her she could keep the house and gave her half of everything, even though she didn’t want it, and I bought the magnificent beast I now call home. The only things I kept from my old life were a few bits of Katie’s and the equally magnificent beast I share the motorhome with—Betty was Katie’s dog. She’d always begged for a puppy, but we were too busy. Then when she got ill, well... we just wanted to give her everything she asked for, you know? Slushies for breakfast, Kate Bush on repeat, a baby dachshund...”
“And how has it been since you left?” I ask. “You seem quite... content?”
“Yes. That’s a good word for it. Not exactly happy, but content enough. It took a while, and to start with I was very lonely. Especially on campsites, where you’re surrounded by happy families, you know?”
“Yes. I do know. That is a feeling I am very familiar with—everyone always seems so perfect, don’t they, on the outside looking in? I always felt like that when I went places with Charlie. Being a single parent is weird. Most people are friendly, but some women seem to feel like you want to steal their husbands—usually the overweight ones with beer bellies and England tattoos. Charlie would always try to pal up with other kids, but I always felt bad for him...”
“Did he seem to feel bad?”
“Well, no—but that’s what parents do, isn’t it? We blame ourselves for everything we perceive to be going wrong in our kids’ lives. And did you notice that thing earlier, where he called us a family? That freaked me out a bit.”
Now, more than before, I am conscious of the fact that Luke was once a father, and that being thrust into a makeshift family might be a complicated thing for him.
“I did notice,” he replies. “But don’t take it too seriously—it was just a turn of phrase. Fits his brand better!”
“I know, you’re probably right. But he has always wanted a bigger family. I’ve tried to be enough for him, but I know I’m not. I’m just one pretty ordinary woman.”
“You don’t seem that ordinary from where I’m standing... well, lying.”
“That’s the whisky talking. I am ordinary, and I don’t mind that. But he can be extraordinary, and it’s my job to make sure that happens.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of God!”
“Oh shut up!” I say, throwing my pen at him. It hits him on the forehead and he feigns injury, which makes us both laugh and breaks what has become a slightly surreal mood.
“Well, what about your own family?” he says, once we have calmed ourselves down. “Isn’t he close to them?”
“Close?” I echo, turning onto my back and gazing back up at the sky, hoping that the stars will shine down some wisdom along with the silver and gold threads of light. “No. I wouldn’t say that. In fact, they don’t even know he exists.”
Chapter 12
I wake up the next morning to the gentle touch of Charlie’s foot in my side. I mutter variations on ouch and roll around a little. I have hair stuck in my mouth and Betty is using my face as a lollipop, but other than that I have survived my time in the wild outdoors. I am practically Bear Grylls, but with backache. Maybe Bear Grylls gets backache too, but he’s too macho to show it on camera.
I roll over again and stare up at Charlie, who immediately takes a photo of me.
“Got ya!” he says, hopping away chuckling. “That’ll be perfect for the Sausage Dog Diaries!”
“The what?” I murmur, sitting up and wiping my face clear. I glance over and see that Luke’s gear has been folded up and assume he is out hunting, or using the Mona Lisa.
Charlie thuds down next to me and says: “That’s the name of your new blog. I tried loads of different things, but they were too similar to others—the internet is a pretty crowded place! Anyway, when I looked for this one, there was nothing. Apart from loads of ads for actual diaries with pictures of dachshunds on them. So that’s its main title, and the subheading is ‘Hitting the road and finding your joy!’—I liked that. Thought it soundeda bit New Agey, a bit self-helpy, very current. Loads of middle-aged women like you probably dream of hitting the road and finding their joy!”
“I’m not middle-aged!” I splutter.
