‘I don’t need to. Strikes me you already have. You come home after the children are asleep, you leave before they’re up—and when you’re here in the evening, you’re shut in your study or sitting behind your laptop screen totally ignoring me! What exactly do you think you’re bringing to this relationship?’
‘The money?’ he said sarcastically, and her face drained of colour.
‘You arrogant bastard,’ she spat softly. ‘We don’t need your money, and we certainly don’t need your attitude. I can go back to work for more days. I’m going back anyway next month for three sessions a week. They’ve asked me to, and I’ve said yes, and Lottie’s going to nursery. I’ll just do more hours, more sessions. They want as much time as I can give them, so I’ll give them more, if that’s what it takes.’
He stared at her, shocked. ‘When did they ask you? You didn’t tell me.’
‘When exactly was I supposed to tell you?’ she asked, her voice tinged with bitterness and disappointment. ‘You’re never here.’
‘That’s not true. I was here all day yesterday—’
‘Shut in your study doing something more important!’
‘Don’t be silly. This is important. You should have told me. You don’t need to go back to work.’
‘Yes, I do! I need to because if I don’t, I never get to have a sensible conversation with another adult, because you certainly aren’t around! You have no idea what it’s like talking to a seven month old baby all day, every day, with no relief from it except for the conversation of her seven and five year old sisters! I love her to bits, I love them all to bits, but I’m not just a mother, I’m a doctor, I’m a woman, and those parts of me need recognition. And they’re sure as hell not getting them from you!’
He sucked in his breath, stung by the bitterness in her voice. ‘Luce, that’s not fair. I’m doing it for us—’
‘No, you’re not! You’re doing it for you, for your precious ego that demands you never say no, always play the hero, always step up to the plate and never let your patients down. But you’re a husband and a father as well as a doctor, and you’re just sweeping all that under the mat. Well, newsflash, Gallagher, I’m not going to be swept under the mat any more. I don’t need the scraps of you left over from your “real” life, and nor do your children. We can manage without you. We do most of the time anyway. I doubt we’ll even notice the difference.’
He felt sick. ‘You don’t mean that. Where will you live?’
‘Here?’ she shrugged. ‘I can take over the mortgage.’
‘What, on a part-time salary? Dream on, Lucy.’
‘So we’ll move. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re happy, and we’re not at the moment, so go. Go to your precious hospital if you really must, but you have to realise that if you do, you won’t have a marriage to come back to, not even a lousy one.’
He stared at her, at the distress and anger and challenge in her eyes, and, for the briefest moment, he hesitated. Then, because he really had no choice, he turned on his heel and walked out of their bedroom and down the stairs.
She’d cool off. He’d give her time to think about it, time to consider all they’d be losing, and after he finished work, he’d come home and apologise, bring her some flowers and chocolates and a bottle of wine. Maybe a takeaway so she didn’t have to cook.
And he’d make love to her, long and slow, and she’d forgive him.
Two more weeks, he told himself grimly. Just two more weeks until the course was finished and the exam was over, and then they could sort this out.
They’d be fine. It was just a rocky patch, everyone had them. They’d deal with it.
He scooped up his keys, shrugged on his jacket and left.
CHAPTER TWO
HE’D gone. Turned on his heel and walked out.
She’d heard the utility room door close, the garage door slide up, the car start. Slightly open-mouthed with shock, she’d sat there in their bed, the quilt fisted in her hands, and listened to the shreds of their marriage disappearing off the drive in a slew of gravel.
The silence that followed was deafening.
She couldn’t believe he’d gone. She’d thought—
What? That he’d stay? That he’d phone the hospital and tell them he couldn’t go in, his wife had thrown a strop and threatened to kick him out? Hardly. It wasn’t Andy’s style. If he didn’t talk to her, he sure as eggs didn’t talk to anyone else.
And he’d told Steve he’d do it, so it was set in stone. It seemed that everything except them was set in stone.
She felt a sob rising in her throat, but she crushed it ruthlessly. This wasn’t the time for tears. She had the children to think about. Later, maybe, after they were in bed again, she’d cry. For now, she could hear Lottie chatting in her cot, and she pushed the covers aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, heading for her baby on autopilot.
She’d pack him some clothes—just enough to tide him over, give him time to think about things—and drop them off at work. Maybe that would shock him to his senses, because something surely had to.
She walked into Lottie’s room, into the sunshine of her smile, and felt grief slam into her chest. What had their baby done to deserve this?
‘Hello, my precious,’ she crooned softly. ‘Oh, you’re so gorgeous—come here.’ She scooped the beaming baby up against her heart and hugged her tight. Delicious, darling child, she thought, aching for what was to come. The fallout from this didn’t bear thinking about.
But Lottie didn’t know and she didn’t care. She was beginning to whine now, pulling at Lucy’s top, and she took her back to bed and fed her.
She was still breastfeeding her night and morning, but she might not be able to keep it going, she realised with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, not if she had to get the girls ready for school and out of the door in time to get to work. She stared down, watching her daughter suckle, treasuring every second of this fleeting, precious moment.
The baby flung her little arm out, turning her head at a sound from the window, endlessly curious and distracted now her thirst was slaked, and Lucy sat her up in the middle of the bed and handed her a toy to play with while she packed a bag for Andy.
It seemed so wrong—so unnecessary! Why couldn’t he see? Why couldn’t he give them the time they surely deserved?
Damn. She swallowed the tears down, threw his razor and deodorant and toothbrush into a washbag, tucked it into the holdall and zipped it up. There. Done. She’d drop it in later, on their way out somewhere.
The zoo?
No. It was cold and rainy. Maybe she’d take them swimming to the leisure centre, to take their minds off Andy’s absence.
Oh, help. She’d have to tell the girls something—but what?
That he was working? So busy working he didn’t have time to come home, so he was going to stay at the hospital?
That was a good point. She had no idea where he’d stay, and she told herself she didn’t care, but he might need to wear something at night. She unzipped the bag again, put in the emergency pyjamas which never saw the light of day and a clean dressing gown and the slippers his aunt had sent him for Christmas last year, and tugged the zip closed with a sinking feeling.
Christmas. It was only a little over two months away.
Would he be there with them for Christmas? What if he never came to his senses?