I couldn’t get a grip on my brain somehow, couldn’t work out what I was supposed to say or how I was supposed to feel. I had no point of reference for this moment. It felt like somebody else’s life.
Dan tried to be reasonable. That was one of his greatest strengths. He was eternally reasonable and always took other people’s opinions seriously. We rarely argued and this was largely down to Dan. He was able to defuse a situation like the most practised of bomb-disposal experts. ‘I understand that you’re angry, Nat, and you have every right to be, but if you’ll let me, I’ll try to explain.’
I took another deep gulp of wine before holding up my glass as if proposing a toast and saying, ‘Please. Be my fucking guest.’
Dan swallowed. ‘It’s nothing you’ve done or said. You have always been the perfect wife.’
‘If you’re about to use the words, it’s not you, it’s me, I will get violent,’ I retorted.
Dan looked at me, tears brimming in his eyes. ‘I have tried to stay in love with you but I just don’t have those feelings for you any more. I love you but I’m not in love with you.’
My head was spinning from a combination of wine and fury. I stood up. ‘So you’re planning to leave?’
Dan nodded. ‘I want to speak to Woody first.’
‘Very decent of you, but you’ll have to come back to do that another time because I want you gone.’
‘Nat.’
People talk about a red mist and others talk about an out-of-body experience but for me it was neither. I thought nothing and felt nothing but pure white-hot fury as I smashed the wine glass to the floor and screamed, ‘GO! NOW! I WANT YOU FUCKING GONE!’
Whether out of self-preservation or respect for my feelings, Dan left the room. Moments later he reappeared with a bag, which I realised he must have been hiding in the back of his wardrobe for goodness knows how long. Waiting for the right moment. He had clearly been waiting for the right moment for a while.
He didn’t try to speak to me again before he left and I was oddly grateful to him for this. I heard the front door close like a full stop to my life so far. I looked around the room, numb with anger, unable to cry. I looked at the shards of broken glass and swore.
The annoying thing about a burst of righteous anger is that you have to clear up afterwards. I went to fetch the dustpan and another glass of wine.
CAROLINE
I actually thought that I was going to kill her. It was as if she had some kind of death wish. She just stepped into the road without even looking just as I was turning the corner. It was incredible. If I hadn’t stood up on the brake, I would have hit her much harder. Luckily, I was able to swerve so that I merely touched her and she sort of sat backwards onto the kerb. Of course, it had to be right outside the school, immediately after drop-off. Typical. I had to park on the hazard lines right outside the school, which obviously isn’t allowed until 9.30 a.m. The headmaster was standing at the gate and he glanced my way as I leapt from the driver’s seat.
‘Apologies, Phil!’ I cried, giving him a cheery wave. I noticed a gaggle of school mums who I knew from the PTA and tried to give them a reassuring nod as I hurried round to check up on her. I hoped they would just disperse but they had seen what happened and one of them was already on her way over. I recognised her as an annoying woman called Nula, who had been particularly disparaging about my idea to sell ‘Loom Bands’ at the summer fair.
‘They’re an absolute nightmare,’ she had moaned. ‘My cleaner is forever getting them stuck in the Dyson. And Alexis nearly took her little brother’s eye out with one last week.’
She was one of those mothers who attends every PTA meeting, criticising each idea and failing to offer any of her own. She also insisted on running the Pimm’s stall every year and drinking most of the profits. Her daughter had spat at Matilda when they were in Reception and I had obviously been on her hate list ever since I’d complained to their teacher. I didn’t care though – you have to learn to rise above these things when you’re the Chairwoman of the PTA. She was simply jealous that I had been elected to the post for a third consecutive year.
It took all my powers of control not to poke her in the eye as she rushed over, ignored my presence except for a haughty flick of her hair and sat down next to the woman, putting an arm around her shoulder.
‘Are you all right, Natalie?’ she asked in soothing tones. ‘I saw the whole thing and can act as a witness if you need me to?’ She flicked her gaze in my direction, her nostrils slightly flared. ‘What were you thinking, Caroline?’
Trouble-making viper. Luckily, Phil had arrived on the scene. ‘Are you all right, Mrs Garfield? Mrs Taylor. Would you like to come inside?’
‘I think she’s in shock,’ said Nula. ‘We should probably call an ambulance. And the police.’ A shadow of smug satisfaction passed over her face as she uttered this last sentence. That’s it, I thought, no Pimm’s stall for you this year. Three hours of Splat the Rat, you interfering shrew.
The woman had been staring at the ground all the while but now she seemed to come to her senses. She looked up at us all, her face wide-eyed and fearful. I noticed with distaste that she was wearing pyjama bottoms and a hoody with trainers. To the untrained eye, the trousers could have just about passed as a pair of those awful floral things that everyone insists on wearing these days but she didn’t fool me. I can spot M&S nightwear a mile off. Her eyes were heavy with dark shadows and her hair was scraped up into a loose bun. Many people think you can achieve this hairstyle in a matter of seconds but many people are wrong. The wispy-haired look takes practice and effort. This woman hadn’t applied either.
I don’t mean to sound judgemental but I despair of playground mothers sometimes. Where is their self-respect? We’re all pushed for time in the mornings – the least we can do is apply a little eyeliner and make ourselves presentable. We’re supposed to be role models for the next generation, after all.
I realised that I needed this problem to go away and fast. I knelt down in front of the woman and took her hands. I also remembered that you should never apologise in an accident situation. It makes you culpable. I leant forwards and smiled. ‘It’s Natalie, isn’t it? How are you? Is there anything I can do?’ I felt Nula’s grip tighten around her shoulder but I pressed on. ‘Are you hurt at all?’
Natalie stared at me. I gave her a reassuring smile, which she seemed to accept as she squeezed my hands. ‘I’m okay,’ she murmured. ‘I just want to get home.’
‘I can take you!’ I cried.
Nula pursed her lips in irritation. ‘Are you sure that’s wise? Shouldn’t we get you checked over, Natalie?’
Natalie shook her head. ‘No, really, I’m okay. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going, but if you could take me home, I’d be grateful,’ she replied, looking up at me.
Nula dropped her arm from Natalie’s shoulder, barely able to mask her disappointment.
‘Of course!’ I said, helping her to her feet. ‘No problem at all. Thanks, Phil. Thanks, Nula,’ I said, flashing a particularly saintly smile at the latter.
Phil nodded. ‘Take care, ladies,’ he said, before disappearing back through the school gate.
Natalie walked towards my car and opened the door. ‘Let me know if you need anything, hon,’ called Nula, squeezing Natalie’s arm as she walked past. ‘Bye, Caroline.’
I acknowledged her with a nod before jumping into the driver’s seat. Natalie climbed in alongside