As Good As It Gets? by Fiona Gibson

Author:Fiona Gibson [Gibson, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2015-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Will is home. The dancing bear has returned from the woods, having caroused with She-Bear – she’s probably blown on his porridge – and is now making his way unsteadily to the kitchen. At least, I think he is. I am lying, ears pricked, in bed. It’s 2.07 a.m. and I haven’t slept at all. So what to do next?

Obvious options appear to be: 1. continue to lie here, pretending to be asleep and thus avoiding confrontation, possibly forever. Or, 2. storm downstairs and tell him precisely what I saw. No – can’t do that. I will not admit that, while he attempted to devour some woman’s cleavage, I was staring out through the window, sipping Ovaltine.

No, I shall just pretend I didn’t see a thing. I’ll carry on with my life, taking care of the kids and going to work; I shall be a model of dignity. On a positive note, at least none of the kids have woken up, despite him clattering about downstairs. It would be bad enough, Rosie and Ollie finding out – but we have a visitor here, who barely knows us. I could do without Delph finding out about Will’s erotic display and spreading it around the modelling world about what an embarrassment Rosie’s dad is. Things are tense enough around here as it is.

‘Uhhh …’ There’s a groan from the stairs. Another sound comes: whimpering, like a small injured dog. I slip out of bed and creep towards the landing.

Will is lying in a heap on the stairs. His hair is askew, plastered to his forehead with sweat, and there’s a drink spillage on the front of his T-shirt. I observe the scene, wondering why I feel so different about my husband, who clearly needs urgent assistance, from when one of the children has hurt themselves or been upset for some reason. It is different, though. Kids need you. They might be unfeeling and selfish and make you crave strong drink, in huge quantities, but they don’t do it on purpose. Once, when I had to fill in a form at the doctors’ reception, I pulled out a tampon instead of a pen from my bag and tried to write with it. ‘That’s not a pen,’ Ollie yelled. ‘That’s one of them things ladies stick up their bums!’ Mortifying, yes, but he was only trying to help.

Will flinches and moans again. God, I’m going to have to deal with this. ‘Will,’ I whisper, crouching beside him, ‘are you okay?’

‘Urrrr,’ he mumbles.

‘You need to get up. You can’t sleep here. One of the kids’ll see …’

He hugs at the stair. ‘’S’all right. Did you email him then?’

‘What?’

‘Him. Fraser. Did you say he can see her?’ He fixes me with a glazed stare.

‘I did reply,’ I murmur, ‘but let’s not talk about that now—’

‘Why not? We need to, it’s important!’

‘Shhhh,’ I hiss at him, terrified that Rosie will overhear. ‘I know it is, but we’re not discussing it now, on the stairs, when you’re off your face.

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