Mad About You (35 page)

I sat in the lounge, surrounded by boxes. Inside were my clothes, shoes, bags, photos and accessories, all of which I had got back from the very nice lady in Oxfam on Putney High Street. When I explained to her that my belongings had been taken without my knowledge, she very kindly returned everything. James gave her a donation for the inconvenience.

‘Here you go, darling.’ James handed me a cup of tea.

‘Thanks.’ I gratefully took a sip. It was cold in the house, even with the heating on.

James sat on the floor beside me. I pulled out a framed photo of the two of us at a black-tie event. We were laughing, our arms entwined around each other.

‘I remember this,’ James said softly. ‘It was a good night.’

I nodded, suddenly flooded with emotion. Despite my best efforts to stop myself, I began to cry.

‘Hey now.’ James put the photo down and put his arms around me.

‘Sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying, it’s just all so …’

‘Overwhelming.’ He finished my sentence.

‘Yes, overwhelmingly overwhelming.’ I gave him a watery smile.

‘Look at me,’ he said, turning me to face him. ‘I promise you that from now on things are going to be different. We’re going to be happy. I’m not going to work past seven o’clock, and at least two nights a week, I’ll be home by six. And we don’t have to worry about Claire any more. Maggie called me
to say she’s booked her in to see a psychiatrist and she’s not going to let her out of her sight.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘Of what?’

I decided to be honest. ‘Of the future. Of our life here in London.’

‘It’s going to be all right, darling. We’re going to start with a clean slate. I’m going to work less and you’re taking some time out from work to be with the children, which they’re thrilled about. We’ll do a family outing every Sunday, and things will be so much better, I promise. I know I’ve been obsessed with the club and that I neglected you.’

‘I understand why you did it. I know you’re just trying to prove yourself, but I find London lonely, James. I need you.’

‘I know, I’m sorry.’

Things really would have to be different, I thought. I needed to carve out a life for myself here. I’d have to try to make friends. Good friends, women that I could be myself with. Carol was very different from me, but she was a lovely person, and although Poppy was a bit mad, she was nice too. I needed to work on those relationships and nurture them. The new Emma was going to host coffee mornings and force those mothers at the school gate to talk to her. I was going to break through their icy façades if it killed me.

‘This whole Claire situation has made me realize we need to be more careful with each other,’ I said.

‘You mean not take each other for granted?’

‘Yes.’ I nodded. ‘And make more time for ourselves. We need to be a couple again, James, like this.’ I held up the photo.

‘You’re right. Lately it’s been all about working and the children. We hardly ever go out on our own.’

It was simple, really. Life had got in the way: we had
neglected each other and our relationship. And, if I’m being honest, it wasn’t just since we’d moved to London. Even before that we’d stopped making an effort. Even when we had gone out together, we’d usually been to the cinema and straight home. It had been a very long time since we’d had a really romantic night out, lingering over our wine until the restaurant staff begged us to leave. It had been a long time since we’d had fun together. We were stale, our marriage was stale. Yet beneath that James was still my James. Older, greyer, yes, but still the man I had fallen head over heels in love with, the man who had made me so happy. My rock. I reached over and kissed his cheek. It felt good.

‘Why don’t we have a weekly date-night?’ I suggested. ‘I know it’s a really lame expression, but let’s pick a night that’s sacrosanct. Every week, on that night, we go out together, no matter what.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

‘But there’s just one problem. Going out requires leaving our children with a babysitter.’

‘We’ll find a nice girl we can trust.’

‘Claire was a nice girl we trusted.’

‘Yes, but that was just very bad luck,’ James said. ‘We can’t let it poison us against all babysitters and childminders.’

‘I know, but it’ll be difficult for me in the beginning.’

‘We’ll be very thorough in our research.’

‘James?’

‘Yes?’

‘Let’s be really nice to each other. Let’s appreciate each other more from now on.’

‘I think that’s an excellent idea.’

‘I know I can be a grumpy cow, but I do love you and I love our family.’

‘Me too, darling. And, in a twisted kind of way, this whole
situation with Claire has made me appreciate what I have even more. To see my family unit threatened in that way and to realize that everything is breakable, well, it just makes me treasure you and the children. I have to be honest, losing my job with the Irish squad really threw me. My confidence was shattered.’ James looked down at his hands. ‘I consider myself the provider, the man of the house. I know it’s old-fashioned, but that’s the way I see things. I want to provide for my family. When I got this job with London Irish, I was so terrified of losing it that I really did block out everything else. I can see that now. I was obsessed with proving myself and making my position secure. I took my eye off the ball – excuse the pun. I put work first and I neglected you and the children.’

I kissed him again. ‘You did it for all the right reasons. Look, James, I want you to be happy in your job. I want you to be secure and to do the best you possibly can because I know how important it is to you.’

‘Thank you.’ He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘I know it’s been difficult for you, moving to London and leaving your old life behind, but I do really believe that we can have a good life here. We just need to start again, slowly.’

‘Well, it couldn’t be worse than it has been.’

He smiled. ‘That’s true.’

We kissed deeply, longingly, hungrily. It felt so good. We stood up and looked at each other. I knew that glint in James’s eye … I just hadn’t seen it in a while.

‘Hold that thought.’ I grinned.

‘Where are you going?’ He tried to pull me back into a kiss.

‘Don’t worry, you’ll like this.’

I ran into the kitchen and found it hiding at the back of the fridge. Rushing back into the lounge, where James was waiting for me on the couch, I shook it in his face.

‘What on earth …?’ He peered at it, trying to see what it was.

‘Whipped cream!’ I giggled. ‘We’ve never tried it before. I’ve been told, by a reliable source, that it’s very effective in the bedroom.’

James stood up and grabbed my hand. ‘What the hell are we waiting for?’

I would especially like to thank the many people who told me their stories about stalking. I was shocked to find out how prevalent it is. A special thanks to Orla Tormey for being so generous with her time and for sharing her own incredible story with me.

Thanks also to, Rachel Pierce, my editor, whose help and advice were, as always, invaluable; Patricia Deevy, for all of her support and encouragement; Michael McLoughlin, Cliona Lewis, Patricia McVeigh, Brian Walker, and all the team at Penguin Ireland for making the publishing process so enjoyable; to all in the Penguin UK office, especially Tom Weldon, Joanna Prior and the fantastic sales, marketing and creative teams; to my agent Marianne Gunn O’Connor, thanks for believing in me; to Hazel Orme, as always, for her wonderful copy-editing; to Mum, Dad, Sue, Mike and my extended family for their unwavering support and loyalty, which mean so much; to my nephews, Mikey, James, Jack, Sam and Finn, and to my nieces, Cathy and Isabel; to Hugo, Geordy and Amy, you truly are the sunshine in my life. And as always, the biggest thank you to Troy.

Finally … this book is dedicated to my girlfriends. Thank you for your love, loyalty and especially for all the laughs. Thanks for the late-night chats, for your honesty and for your support over all these years. Here’s to many more.

Published by the Penguin Group
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First published 2013

Copyright © Sinéad Moriarty, 2013

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Cover photograph © Béla Molnár

All rights reserved

Typeset by Palimpsest Book Production Ltd, Falkirk, Stirlingshire

ISBN: 978-0-241-96339-5