daughter – make sure she keeps on top of her diabetes, her homework, friendships, guitar lessons, gymnastics, packed lunches, school uniform, cake sales, netball matches, sleepovers … and all the rest of it.’ Sam watched as Chrissie counted off the list of tasks on her fingers. ‘And I make sure all the bills are paid, the house is kept running, the garden is tidy, the bins are emptied, the hedge is trimmed, the lane isn’t littered with leaves, the monthly parish magazine is paid for, the village charity collections are contributed to, the May Fair cakes are baked, the summer school show costume is made. Honestly, the list is endless! And I do it all. I keep everything going!’ Her voice cracked. ‘But who’s keeping me going?’
Sam immediately wished he could go back out to his car and start this all over again. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all. Of course, he knew that Chrissie was going to be hostile, that was her way … their fight pattern, if you like. Whenever they had fallen out in the past, had an argument, she would be super-cool with him afterwards, and as soon as he’d calmed down and invariably realised what an arse he was being, he’d apologise. They’d talk it out, do something nice for each other, and they’d make up. That was the way it was. His dad, Rob, had shown him long ago that it was best to back down and be the appeaser – ‘happy wife, happy life’; that’s what Rob had always said. Sam remembered it clearly – Dad invariably in the back garden, his favourite domain, snipping some roses to take into the house for his mum, Linda, even though she’d been scolding him only moments earlier for not having done something or another exactly the way she liked it. But Rob never seemed to hold a grudge and always let it wash over him. Maybe that was the key to happiness, Sam had surmised, but he wasn’t sure he managed it as well as his dad had. He and Chrissie had different ways of doing things – it wasn’t always possible to keep the peace and maintain a state of continuous calm.
But Sam had tried hard, always apologising, even if he felt he was in the right – Chrissie could be very black and white, not always able to see things from the other person’s perspective. So he’d pull Chrissie in close for a nice cuddle on the sofa, followed by making love as soon as Holly was asleep, and they would wedge the laundry basket behind their bedroom door so she couldn’t barge in unannounced, as had happened one time when she was about three years old. Thankfully, she had still been young enough for them to pass off Chrissie bobbing up and down astride him, naked, as ‘mummy dancing’. And they had giggled silently together like a pair of silly teenagers for ages over that afterwards, whenever Holly had asked to see ‘mummy dancing’ again.
Sam put the coffee mug on the kitchen counter and dropped his hands down by his sides, his heart sinking at the sadness of the current situation. He and Chrissie at loggerheads, no mummy dancing on the immediate horizon and their daughter upstairs bravely hiding her heartache. The feeling was quickly followed by an even greater determination to fix things.
‘Please, Chrissie, I don’t want to fight. Can we talk, properly? I’m back for goo—’
‘It’s too late for that,’ she said quickly, as if instantly throwing up a brick wall to protect herself. Sam wasn’t sure if she even really believed the words herself; it was as if she was saying them on autopilot, without conviction, just to keep him at a distance … or maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part. ‘Besides, now isn’t a good time …’ Chrissie’s eyes flicked to the watch on her left wrist.
‘But I’ve just got back. I thought we could try and have some time together …’
‘There have been plenty of opportunities for us to have some time together over the last year. But you didn’t take those chances, Sam.’
‘But I’d like to now … if you’ll let me?’ Sam tried.
They stood in silence momentarily, until Chrissie took a big breath, exhaled and then added, ‘I honestly don’t think there are any chances left.’ She fixed her gaze on the kitchen floor tiles.
‘Come on, Chris, that isn’t fair. You know as well as I do that this job was 24/7. I was doing it for us. It was what we agreed.’
There was sadness in Chrissie’s eyes now, as well as the anger, and her voice was more gentle as she spoke this time. ‘No, Sam, I never agreed not to see you for months and months on end, and that isn’t what you thought either. Why did you stay away so long? Why didn’t you come back months ago when you knew I’d taken as much as I could? I still don’t understand, and you gave me the impossible job of explaining it to Holly.’
Sam scraped his hands through his hair. Trying to find the right words. She was right; he knew that he was avoiding something, but he wasn’t sure he could even explain it to himself, let alone Chrissie.
‘Well?’ Her eyes were full of questions. Ones he couldn’t answer.
‘I don’t know.’ They stared at each other. ‘I just don’t know the answer, Chrissie, but I’m trying to work it out – I want to work it out, you know how much you and Holly mean to me, don’t you – how much I—’
But before he could tell Chrissie how much he loved her and Holly, how he desperately wanted to sort things out, she stepped towards him and placed the tips of her fingers over his mouth. ‘Don’t say it,’ she whispered. ‘Please. I can’t bear it. You need to go back to Dolly’s house now.’
Sam could feel the situation slipping away from him. He reached out to Chrissie but she gently pushed him away.
‘Please don’t send me away, Chris. You know how good we can be together,’ he said, the desperation in his voice impossible to hide.
‘I used to, Sam.’ More silence followed. ‘But now …’ She paused and briefly closed her eyes before carrying on, ‘I’m not so sure.’ Silence swung in the air between them like an enormous pendulum pushing them further and further apart. ‘It’s time to go,’ Chrissie continued. ‘Maybe you should take some time to really work out why you didn’t come home until now.’ She looked away. ‘Because I’m not sure about anything any more.’
As Chrissie followed Sam towards the front door, both of them turned on seeing Holly standing on the stairs. They looked at each other, united briefly in concern in case their daughter had overheard the conversation.
‘I don’t want Dad to go!’ Holly stated, her voice a mixture of petulance and fear.
‘Dad has to go now, Holly. You’ve got your homework to finish.’
‘But that’s not fair. Dad has just come back and I got hardly any time at all with him.’
‘Holly, will you please do as you’ve been asked?’ Chrissie said tightly, fiddling with the crystal drop necklace that he and Holly had chosen together for her fortieth birthday. At least she was still wearing it – that was something, Sam thought, resisting the urge to play peacemaker; he didn’t want to undermine Chrissie. He knew how much she hated that, trying to remember all the rules around bedtime or screen time; he’d always been useless at keeping on top of all the boundaries. But before either he or Chrissie could play their next move, Holly suddenly exploded.
‘Fine! But I HATE you!’ And then, after glaring at Chrissie, she shot back up the stairs to her bedroom, two at a time, and slammed the door, making the mini-chandelier hall light jangle precariously above them. Sam instinctively stepped towards the foot of the stairs and called after her.
‘Come back here and apologise, you mustn’t talk to Mum like that—’
‘Just leave her, Sam.’ Chrissie indicated with her head after Holly, before turning to look him in the eye. ‘She doesn’t mean it … Besides, there’s been a lot of that lately. I’m hoping it’s just a phase and she’ll grow out of it.’
‘But she shouldn’t say stuff like that to you. Or slam doors.’
‘True.’ Chrissie lifted her left shoulder. ‘Maybe not. And having you around to tell her so every now and again might have been quite helpful, don’t you think?’
Sam knew that Chrissie had a point. He hadn’t been around to do his proper