night they’d had a row and both gone grumpily to bed. It was exhausting.
Daniel still hadn’t got round to mentioning the fact that Reggie had been in touch. Partly because he was tempted to ignore it, and partly because he knew Beth would think Daniel should meet him. It had been the aim of her married life to effect a reunion between her husband and father-in-law, whom she’d only met once, a very long time ago. On that occasion, Reggie had been charm itself, and Beth had been surprised by Daniel’s uncharacteristic rudeness to him. They had rowed about it at the time, because Beth couldn’t understand why Daniel could never allow his dad back into his life.
Perhaps he should have told Beth more about his childhood, but it was all too grim. Over the years Beth had tried to get him to talk about it several times, but Daniel preferred to shut out his past. He had felt so damaged by what had happened to him growing up; it made him feel somehow ashamed. And he hated the bitterness and anger he still felt towards Reggie. Daniel had always been afraid that anger would poison the life he had built for himself, so he had decided early on that he would put those feelings away and never think about it. Most of the time that strategy worked.
Beth was so close to her own family, he couldn’t explain to her what a rotten dad Reggie had been. Although Daniel had a few vague early memories of happy family days out, most of his memories of Reggie were of him being drunk and aggressive. Aged eight, Daniel regularly used to go to bed with a book and stuff a pillow over his ears to drown out the sound of his dad shouting. He had watched his mum being worn down by it, until in the end, she finally threw Reggie out in an argument that Daniel could still remember to this day. After that, although Reggie still saw him occasionally, Daniel had felt his mum was his family. Both his parents were from Jamaica, but neither had stayed in touch with their own families, who hadn’t approved of the match. ‘How right they were,’ Mum had said once, sighing. ‘But at least I have you.’
Daniel adored his mum, but he’d always missed having a wider family. It was one of the reasons he’d thrown himself so whole-heartedly into Beth’s family; they represented everything he didn’t have. Being with Beth had given him a joy that he hadn’t known life could offer. They’d met at teacher training college. After a stint in the city, which he’d hated, Daniel had decided, with his mother’s blessing, to become a teacher. He’d met Beth and fallen head over heels in love. It was a time in his life when everything should have been going right for him. Then out of the blue, his mum had developed an aggressive cancer and died just before their wedding day. To stave off his grief, Daniel had made it a point to keep looking forward, never back. Reggie brought him back to a dark place he never wanted to return to. It was as simple as that. Even if Beth wouldn’t see it like that.
Her experience of family was so different from his own, he sometimes felt she couldn’t understand the deep vein of toxicity which had run through his childhood. It was easier to shut the past down, look forward, and make her family his own instead. And now her parents were splitting up, and it made him feel totally disorientated. No wonder Beth was so miserable. He must try to make it up to her somehow.
He opened the email from Reggie once more, stared at it for a few seconds and then decided to get this over and done with. He’d tell Beth about it later, when Reggie was safely back in the States.
Hi Reggie, Good to hear from you. Up to my eyes in Ofsteds and general stress. Maybe next time you’re over? Daniel.
His hands hovered over the keyboard for a second before pressing send. He had too much on his plate at the moment, without having to deal with his father. Life was stressful enough already. Daniel hit the button.
Beth
The email arrived this morning, and I must have read and reread it a dozen times already, trying to see if there was a hidden agenda. Jack Stevens was always a bit slippery. Gorgeous, charismatic, but very, very slippery, as I found out to my cost. But seeing him again has reminded me of the person I used to be around him: someone with possibilities. The years of parenting and being a wife have taken some of that away from me. Thanks to getting pregnant with Sam, my career ended up on hold, and I slipped into the world of picture books by accident. Daniel had known someone from college who worked in publishing and got me my first gig. He’d always been hugely supportive of my efforts, while not having a clue about the creative process involved. It had suited me to create stories for children when mine were small, and the work fitted in with being a mum. But when I was at college I’d had other ideas. I was going to be an avant garde artist and win the Turner prize. Or develop my sculpture work, which I’d loved. Or be an inspiring teacher for a new generation of artists. Daniel never understood that side of me, so I never discussed it with him. Whereas Jack …
Jack had always instinctively got where I was coming from when I spoke about my art. He had great ideas for how to get the best out of my work. We used to sit up till the early hours discussing our plans for the future. At the time I’d fantasised about us getting together properly, having a proper relationship, not the half-hearted moments which seemed to promise so much but ended up going nowhere.
Jack Stevens. I can remember him in my first year at art school. He was a self-confident strutting peacock, one among many, but there was something about him that made him stand out from the rest. Jack was going through a massive Bowie phase at the time, and oh, he was beautiful. He had a thin, angular face, with the most amazing cheekbones and blue eyes which sucked you in, making you believe he could see into your soul. He knew it of course, and was quickly surrounded by a coterie of fans, both male and female. He was always ambiguous about his preferences, playing with gender before it was even a thing, but for some reason he admitted to me when we still barely knew each other and he was very very drunk that he was a through and through hetero.
I tried to ignore him at first, thinking someone as dazzling as Jack wouldn’t be interested in me, but to my surprise he kept seeking me out. Then, one night in a club, we got chatting and we both felt an instant connection. I knew I hadn’t imagined it, and the day after that Jack asked me for coffee. I had a feeling I was heading for trouble, but he made me feel special.
‘The others are nothing,’ he’d say, ‘you’re my muse.’
It was immensely flattering, and being young and naive I believed him. I was intoxicated by the idea of being Jack’s inspiration. His room was full of sketches of me – and he even persuaded me to model for him. Even though there was evidence of other women, I chose to ignore it, because he always said that I was the only person who meant something to him, and I suppose I really wanted to believe it. Till the moment I finally realised he was bullshitting me all along …
I look around my lovely bright kitchen, where yet again I’ve caused chaos with work (memo to self, really must tidy up before Daniel gets in tonight; it’s driving him mad), and know Jack would never have given me a home like the one I have. My life with Daniel is ordered, calm, stable, secure. All the things Jack is not. We’d have probably ended up living on a houseboat somewhere. Or in a squat. And I can’t ever imagine having had children with him. I suspect if I had, I’d have done all the work. Unlike Daniel, Jack is not great father material. At least he wasn’t back then. Maybe he is now, although somehow I doubt it. But it had been so easy to fall for Daniel after Jack; good, solid, reliable, gorgeous Daniel. I know he’ll never let me down.
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