How To Be a Good Wife by Chapman Emma

Author:Chapman, Emma [Chapman, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781447216209
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

15

Standing by the window, watching the empty drive, I hear the front door slam. Hector comes into the room behind me and I quickly wipe away a tear.

He is still wearing his raincoat, the hood pulled up. Stopping by his armchair, he slips his gloves off his hands, one by one.

‘I don’t know what you’re so upset about,’ he says, his eyes dark. ‘You made that dinner as difficult as you possibly could. I don’t know how you expected them to stay longer.’

I stare at him.

‘It’s not just yourself you’re ruining things for, you know,’ he says. ‘This is my family too.’

He takes a step towards me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, trying to keep the tears out of my voice. ‘I wanted everything to be perfect.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ he says. ‘You need to let him live his own life. We’ve had our time, can’t you see that? It’s Kylan’s turn to be happy.’

Are we happy? I think.

‘You can never just make things easy,’ he says.

Why can’t you make things easy?

I’m doing this for both of us.

Hector’s mouth doesn’t move but the words echo around the living room, scattered with the remains of breakfast. Plates, crumbs, crushed cushions out of their places.

I stand there, in the light from the window, another tear coming. I have failed him again. I can never make him happy. No matter what I do, it will never be enough. And now Kylan is gone, and it’s only Hector and me.

He turns and walks out of the room.

Once he is gone, I stand staring at the space where he was, feeling something black and ugly rise up in my chest. I see him again, outside the school, embracing the student. This is not all my fault, I think. I can’t let him blame me for everything that is wrong.

A few minutes later, Hector comes back into the living room, holding two black bin liners.

‘I’m going to take the recycling to Kistefoss,’ he says.

I stay still, waiting for him to leave.

When he reaches the doorway, I can’t bear it any more.

‘I know, Hector,’ I blurt.

He stops.

‘You know what?’

‘I know about the student.’

He tries to hide it, but I see him balk. ‘How do you—’ he starts. ‘Who told you?’

I shrug, not wanting to give myself away.

‘I was going to tell you,’ he says. ‘That’s why I came home early on Friday. But I couldn’t do it.’

‘On Friday?’

He nods. ‘How long have you known?’

‘Not long.’

‘I was due for retirement anyway,’ he says.

I stare at him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘The student,’ he says. ‘I’ve lost my job.’ Something flashes across his face, something I try to get a grip on.

‘You’ve lost your job? When?’

‘A few months ago,’ he says. ‘I thought you said you knew.’

‘I know about the student.’

‘The one in final year that I was helping? It was misconstrued by the school.’

I reach for the edge of the bay-window seat and sit down.

‘Marta?’ Hector says.

He doesn’t seem familiar to me any more.

‘Who told you?’ he asks.

I can’t answer.

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