The Bad Things (35 page)

‘You look fantastic,’ said Jez, smiling at her, a child hanging off each arm. ‘Bloody gorgeous.’

‘Sssh,’ she laughed. ‘Not in front of the children.’

He laughed with her, and Sasha felt on top of the world. She was going to have a great time; she’d even do a bit of shopping.

‘Here love,’ said Jez, holding out three twenty pound notes, ‘get yourself something nice. A handbag, new dress, whatever it is that you women want. Shoes maybe.’

‘Red shoes with an impossibly high heel?’

Jez nodded. ‘Red shoes with an impossibly high heel.’

She nodded, her head feeling clearer than it had for months. At times like these she really believed Jez loved her, that she wasn’t second best to Alex. Yes, Jez said that she was the one he wanted, that when he saw her, Alex faded into the background. But could she really trust him on that? She felt that familiar tug of worry. Alex had been his first love; she knew that for a fact. She could still see them entwined on the sofa in their small sitting room, her sister looking up and smiling a Cheshire Cat smile. She had resolved to wipe that smile off her face, to make her sister suffer. So she went out of her way to flirt and pout her way into Jez’s psyche until she was sure she had him hooked. Line and sinker.

After that, it hadn’t taken long to lure him away from Alex. At first it had been like a game, brushing passed him in the hallway; asking him to help zip up her dress; wanting his opinion on her clothes, what film to watch, what book to read. All so very obvious but tried and tested and it worked.

The consequence of her plan was that, somehow, she could never quite believe, in spite of his continual reassurance, that Jez really wanted her, really wanted to be with her. ‘Do you really love me?’ she would plead, until he was driven to distraction and would walk away, leaving her feeling even more insecure.

She felt she had to work extra hard to keep him.

Then she fell pregnant, and for a short while dared to feel happy and contented, secure even. It helped when they found she was expecting twins. Even Alex hadn’t been able to compete with that. But somehow that sense of well-being didn’t last and she slowly descended into the not-quite-good-enough area of her mind. It was as though there was a mist slowly swirling around in her head rendering her unable to think or act clearly. She fumbled her way through life.

But today was going to be okay. A day out. A day to buy red shoes with an impossibly high heel.

The doorbell went.

‘That’ll be Alex,’ she said. ‘When are you off to work, Jez?’

He smiled at her and she wanted to believe he loved her. ‘I’ve got time for a quick coffee with your sister, then it’s off to the fun factory.’

Alex gave her a brief kiss on the cheek as she let her in. ‘You go now,’ she said, balancing a gurgly Gus on her hip. ‘The twins will be perfectly safe with me. Don’t worry about a thing.’

‘Thanks, Alex. I’ll be back about five?’

‘That’s fine. Go on. I’ll see you at my house then, okay?’ Alex gently pushed her out of the door. ‘Take advantage of my generosity.’

The sun was warm on her head as she walked down the path and opened the gate. A perfect summer’s day. She glanced back. A tableau – Jez and Alex laughing; Alex leaning forward tickling Harry; Gus pulling at her hair; Millie clapping her hands, reaching out to her father – a family together. Sasha turned away.

She’d had a good day, with the dark thoughts only beginning on the way home as she stared out of the train window. Had Jez actually gone to work, or did he stay with Alex? She knew he’d said he was going, but people didn’t always do what they said, did they? Did Millie and Harry love Alex more than they loved her? However many times she told herself to stop being stupid, she couldn’t get the bad thoughts out of her head.

Her feet started to drag as she reached Alex’s road, the energy draining out of her body. The carrier bags looped over each hand were becoming heavier, their handles tighter. She was late. The thought of two kids wanting to crawl all over her because she’d been away for the day and then having to walk them home and get them ready for bed was too much. They were bound to be hyper after being with their Aunty. She’d have fed them sweets and ice creams and fuck knows what. And she’d bet any money that Alex would have let them have a good long sleep this afternoon. They didn’t usually need a nap these days, but they were bound to have had one today. And Alex wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. Whereas she would have to pick up two grizzling kids and take them home. Then Jez would be wanting food and she’d start worrying all over again about what he’d been doing and who he’d really been with.

Her head ached.

She stopped in front of the gate.

Her children were playing in the little front garden on their own. Anything could happen to them. They could be snatched. They could open the gate. Run off. Get hit by a car. She clenched her fists. How could Alex do this? Leave them outside on their own?

There was a car on the pavement. Probably that Martin Jessop’s car. No wonder. No doubt they were inside going at it like rabbits while she was out here watching her children playing without any supervision.

Oh, she knew all about Martin Jessop. Alex didn’t realize that she knew, but she did. She’d seen them together one day and confronted him in the street later, wanting to know who he was, what he was like, why he wanted to be with Alex, of all people. Her sister, who couldn’t remember shagging the father of her son. Alex who had been with Jez first. Before her. But he’d looked at her like she was something he’d found on the bottom of his shoe. Arrogant tosser. He thought he was oh-so-arty, so clever. He’d even come on to her. Well, she soon put a stop to that. Then he’d said how he knew she got depressed and sometimes neglected the children and poor thing could he help in any way? She’d been angry then, shouting at him in the street. He’d called her a fishwife, she told him he was a wanker.

At least that’s what she thought happened. Maybe she didn’t speak to him at all. Perhaps he looked at her, or through her, or passed her as if she was nothing. She shook her head to try and clear it. Whatever. He shouldn’t be there when her sister was supposed to be in charge of three children. Of Harry and Millie.

At that moment they turned round and saw her.

‘Mummee, Mumeeee!’ shouted Millie. Harry came running over on his chubby little legs, Millie following. Sasha dropped the carrier bags and held out her arms. Harry flew into them. His body was solid against her own, but she knew the bones were fragile. Like a little bird. Easily broken.

She buried her face in his hair. My beautiful babies, she thought.

Suddenly she didn’t want to talk to Alex, go home with the twins, put the supper on. The evening was still bright and warm. The beach, the sea. That’s where she would go. She always felt better there; the waves and the sea spray. She would forget about Alex and Martin and Jez and just enjoy being with her children.

‘Come on,’ she said excitedly to Millie and Harry, ‘let’s go and get an ice cream.’

The twins wriggled out of her arms. ‘Yes please, Mummy. Ice cream,’ said Millie.

‘Yesss,’ said Harry.

That’s it, ice cream; then she wouldn’t have to go through the exhausting ritual of cooking them any tea. Ice cream would fill them up. And they would love it.

She took them over the sand dunes and down onto the beach towards Jim’s café. There were still a few people around. A couple on those funny half-deckchairs reading the newspaper. A man on the shoreline casting a line into the sea. Another couple throwing sticks for two bouncy, dripping Labradors. Even a family having a barbecue. A soft breeze blew off the sea, the salt catching on her tongue.

They were too late, the café was shut.

She sat down at one of the tables and wanted to cry.

‘Ice cream, Mummy?’

She stroked the top of Millie’s head. ‘Not today, darling.’

‘But you promised.’ This from a whiny Harry.

‘Promises are always broken,’ she snapped. ‘Never rely on promises.’

Neither of the twins spoke, they just watched her.

She stood. ‘Come on, let’s go to the beach hut.’ She set off at a run, the twins trying to keep up.

Sailor’s Rest. The hut that had been in the family forever. Sasha had memories of family picnics on the beach – egg and cress sandwiches, sausage rolls, Madeira cake, lemonade – all coming with a coating of sand. Had they played games with their parents, beach cricket, making sandcastles, digging deep holes and watching the water flood into them – or was that something she only thought she remembered?

She threw open the doors of the hut to let in the evening sunlight. ‘Come on,’ she said excitedly. ‘Let’s get the deck chairs out. Mummy’ll make us all a drink and we can watch the sun go down and maybe build some sandcastles. What do you think?’

‘We haven’t got our spades,’ said Millie.

Stupid child, always putting obstacles in the way. ‘They’ll be here.’ Sasha opened up the cupboard in the corner of the hut and started pulling out old cushions, newspapers, discoloured plastic plates and cups from ancient picnic sets, a battered kettle, a couple of dog-eared paperbacks. Finally she admitted defeat and sat back on her heels.

‘Where are our spades, Mummy?’ asked Millie.

‘And bucket?’ said Harry, putting his thumb into his mouth.

Sasha jumped up. ‘Look, never mind about that. We don’t need buckets or spades; we’ll have a drink instead. Squash. There’ll be some orange squash in the cupboard on the wall.’ She reached up. Yes, there it was. Half a bottle of squash. No water. She’d have to go to the standpipe and fetch some. She grabbed three beakers, poured some of the squash into them, and set them down on the little trestle table.

‘Stay there,’ she said. ‘I’m just going to get some water.’

She grabbed the water carrier and ran across the sand to the standpipe.

‘Here we are,’ she said when she got back, ‘nice juice for us. I’ll have one too.’ She smiled, feeling her face stretch in an unfamiliar way. The twins hadn’t moved. ‘Come on, have a drink.’ She pushed the beakers towards them. They looked at her. ‘Drink,’ she said, rubbing her hands together. ‘Just drink it, will you.’

‘Mummy,’ whispered Millie, ‘the cups are dirty. There’s black bits in there.’

Sasha giggled. ‘Bit of dirt won’t hurt you, Millie. Look, Mummy’s drinking hers.’

‘Don’t like it,’ said Harry.

‘For God’s sake, Harry, just drink it will you.’ Honestly, she was trying to make the day fun. Have some fun with the twins. Better fun than they’d had with Alex. Couldn’t they see that?

Harry’s lip wobbled.

‘C’mon Harry,’ said Millie. ‘Look I’m drinkin’.’ And she took a sip from the beaker.

A big, fat tear rolled down Harry’s cheek. ‘Don’t want to.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake stop whining, Harry.’

Her harsh voice made Harry cry properly, with Millie watching him, shuffling from foot to foot.

Sasha glared at the twins. ‘So bloody ungrateful,’ she muttered, folding her arms across her body.

Now what?

She jerked her head up. ‘Let’s go and watch the sun on the water. We might even see it go down. What do you think?’

Millie nodded, the expression on her face doubtful. Harry didn’t say anything, just carried on sucking his thumb. Then: ‘I’m tired, Mummy. Harry’s tired.’

Another shovelful of guilt filled the space in Sasha’s chest. ‘I know, but we’ll remember this for the rest of our lives.’ She scooped him up into her arms, picked up her bag, and strode out of the hut, with Millie following behind.

The sun was beginning to bleed into the sky. They’d walked a long way along the beach. In the distance she could see the fisherman packing up his bag. The couple with the dogs had already left, and she watched as the family shovelled sand onto their barbecue, the faint smell of charcoal mingling with the sea air and the salt. The three of them sat down on the shingle bank. Sasha watched as the waves rushed in and then pulled out. Rushed in, pulled out. The gentle sucking of the stones, the occasional cry from a gull up above. The twins were playing; trying to dig a channel in the sand between the shingle. Sasha hugged her legs and put her chin on her knees.

She wanted to run.

How could one day on her own in Norwich make any difference? She just wasn’t a good wife, and Jez was bound to leave her one day for someone more vibrant, capable, likeable. And what would she and the twins do then? What would their lives be like then?

And she would never be able to protect her children from the bad things that were inevitably going to happen to them.

The sea carried on its hypnotic push and pull.

The beach was empty now, the light fading fast. The sea was flat calm. The sky washed down into the horizon. It was peaceful.

Inviting.

Sasha knew what to do.

She lifted Harry into her arms and took Millie’s hand. ‘Come on darlings. Swim time.’

‘But Mummy, I’m tired,’ said Millie.

‘So am I, sweetheart.’

She led her daughter forward until the grey sea lapped around their ankles.

‘It’s cold, Mummy,’ Millie started to cry.

‘It won’t be cold for long, I promise. Now hush, sweetheart. Just do what Mummy does, come on. And let’s sing.’

She gripped Millie’s hand harder, singing about her favourite things, and walked further into the sea, pulling her daughter behind her with a strength she didn’t know she had.

Both children were crying now as she pushed on further and deeper.

She felt a current drag her under. She opened her eyes and saw Millie beneath her. There was no noise. Even the constant chatter in her head was quiet. She still had Harry in her arms.

37

Jez ran through the dunes and onto the beach, heart pumping. breath coming in shallow gasps. She had to be here.

The light had almost gone and he could scarcely see anything – even the moon had taken against him by staying behind clouds. He’d brought a torch with him from the car and he shone it along the shoreline.

There she was, sitting with the sea lapping around her.

He ran, and slithered down beside her.