Page 44 of The Day Shelley Woodhouse Woke Up
‘Seems above and beyond the role, if you ask me,’ Jamie says, and then he wheels his equipment away, his shoes tapping on the vinyl floor.
That afternoon, I drift in and out of sleep. And I dream of being far from the hospital, far from the Pheasant, far from David. I am with Matt, rubbing suncream on his shoulders, taking a forkful of his dinner to try, passing him his book from the bag I’m carrying. We are looking up at the Eiffel Tower, and asking someone to take a photo of us by the Colosseum, and going into a chocolate shop in Brussels. And when I wake up, because my dinner is being brought in on a tray, I feel like I’ve been all over the world, when really I have been nowhere at all. Because of him. Because of David.
24
THEN
David brings flowers – lilies, roses, hydrangeas. He brings chocolates. He comes home with something for me more often than not, even if it’s just a scribbled love note on a piece of his estate agency’s headed paper. The notes are my favourite, actually, because I can keep those, can look through them when I feel unsure. He showers me with love. More love than I know what to do with, sometimes.
The moments when he loses control are few and far between, and he hates himself afterwards. I can see it in his eyes: the shame. I tell myself that no marriage is perfect. I believe that.
I am in the pub, behind the bar. This is where I feel completely safe, and that’s something I don’t examine too closely. Dee is sitting on a high stool, and there are only a handful of customers, and she is telling me about the latest in a series of bad dates.
‘And then,’ she says, ‘he asked me if I would consider joining his cosplaying group.’
‘His what?’ I ask.
‘Cosplay,’ Derek says. ‘Dressing up as characters from books or TV shows, isn’t it?’
I look at Dee and cross my eyes to make her laugh. We didn’t know Derek was listening, but we can’t really object, since we’re having this conversation in public.
‘That’s it,’ Dee says. ‘They all get together and dress up like characters fromLord of the Ringsor… what’s it called?’
‘The Hobbit?’ I suggest.
‘No. Well, yes, that too, but I meant the one with the little furry bastards.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘Ewoks,’ Derek says, draining his pint and sliding it across the bar to indicate that he wants another. ‘Star Wars.’
I pull him another pint of lager.
‘Yes!’ Dee says. ‘Star Wars. Seriously, why me, Shell? Do I have a sign on my head that says “Freaks and weirdos welcome”?’
‘No, but we could make you one,’ I say.
Dee pulls the tea towel from where it’s hanging on the dishwasher handle and throws it at me. And I catch it and throw it back, and it lands on Dee’s head, and Derek slaps the bar and almost falls off his stool laughing.
‘I miss the days when you and I could go out together on the hunt for men,’ Dee says. ‘I can’t believe you got married and left me without a wing woman.’
‘I miss those days too, sometimes,’ I say.
And then I turn and see that David’s come down the stairs and is standing by the door to the cellar, looking at me. I go back over what I just said, how he’ll have heard it. And I know that tonight will be one of the bad nights. I look up at the clock. Gone ten. I will time to slow, so I can stay down here with these drunks and misfits and friends and not go upstairs with my husband to face his fury.
‘Hey,’ I say to him, keeping my voice as light as I can. ‘Can I get you something?’
‘Can’t I even come downstairs now?’
Dee looks from David to me and back again.
‘Of course you can come downstairs. I just… wondered whether you were looking for me, or for something?’
‘It was clear from your conversation that you weren’t expecting me,’ he says coldly.
He moves towards me and for a split second I think he’s going to do it now, in front of everyone here. But he reaches past me for a glass and holds it up to the optics, helping himself to a whisky. Neat, no ice. He drinks it, leaves the glass by the dishwasher, and disappears again. For a few seconds, no one moves or speaks. It’s like they’ve been paused, and I can’t bear it, so I go to rinse the glass and then ask a woman who’s just approached the bar what I can get her, and that gets things moving again.
It isn’t until we’re closing that Dee brings it up. ‘What was that all about earlier, with David?’
