She knew how a relationship could change. She’d only been nineteen when she’d met the suave and handsome David Robinson and been swept off her feet. He’d adored her, made her laugh, charmed her with his wit and intelligence. She couldn’t believe he wanted to marry her. By the time Amy came along she was the happiest woman alive, living the dream – until she’d discovered David was sleeping with his secretary. ‘There’s no easy way to ask this, Martin. But do you think there might be someone else?’
He shook his head. ‘Laura hates cheats. She’d never do that. It has to be something else.’
Patricia didn’t respond. It would hardly be helpful to put doubt in Martin’s mind as to his wife’s fidelity. He might be right. Laura might be completely faithful, but just because someone says they hate cheating doesn’t necessarily mean they won’t do it. She knew this more than most.
When Patricia had confronted David about his affair, he’d denied it. Hoping it was an isolated incident, she’d let it go, but over time it became obvious that his PA was one of many. As the years passed, his behaviour became less discreet: he stayed away more often, treating Patricia with disdain and annoyance when she questioned him. He’d always deny having an affair, accusing her of mistrusting him and being paranoid, so in the end she stopped asking, sweeping her doubt under the carpet just as her mother would have advised. She’d figured finding out the truth would only hurt more, so she ignored reality and put on a brave face.
Martin finished his beer. ‘Sorry, I’m not good company today.’ He stood up and pocketed his phone. ‘See you on Tuesday for practice.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘Take it easy.’
‘You too.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘And Martin … don’t give up. A good marriage is worth fighting for.’
He tried for a smile. ‘I hope you’re right.’
She hoped so too.
It took all of Scott’s control not to tear the Personal Independence Payment application into a thousand pieces. Instead, he took a deep breath and re-read the question about ‘descriptors’. Each mobility activity had a score depending on the claimant’s ability to carry out that activity. The list included preparing food, dressing and undressing, washing and bathing. And his particular favourite, planning and following journeys. His mother was in a wheelchair, for God’s sake, paralysed down one side. Of course she couldn’t bleeding navigate a journey.
He got up and fetched a beer from the fridge, hoping to calm his frustrations. Whatever his objections to the government’s claiming process, he was forced to persist, because they needed the money. However much he hated it.
Taking a swig from the bottle, he returned to the form and read his last entry. He’d managed to write not only his Ns backwards but his Bs too. Great. The form looked like it had been filled in by a five-year-old.
Picking up the eraser, he amended his mistakes, channelling his humiliation into frantic rubbing. In his work life he’d learnt to control his environment, avoiding writing anything down, preferring to take his time over reading and writing in private. He’d also discovered the benefits of using a computer and spellcheck. Unfortunately, this particular form wasn’t available electronically, so he was stuck filling it in manually.
He was distracted from his annoyance by the sound of Ben returning from his latest date with Amy. The kid had been quieter than normal all week, ever since his ‘big date’ last Monday, leading Scott to the conclusion that all had not gone well. But the bubble of activity radiating from the lounge indicated a change in his nephew’s mood. He went to investigate.
He found Ben kneeling in front of Billie, his face lit up like he’d won a Golden Globe. He jumped to his feet when Scott walked in, tossing his baseball cap in the air. ‘She said yes, Uncle Scott!’
Feeling like he’d missed the opening scenes of a film, Scott responded with, ‘Who did?’
‘Amy.’ Ben bounced over, seemingly oblivious to his uncle’s puzzlement. ‘I asked her last week, but she needed time to think it over. Tonight she finally said yes.’
A sense of dread settled in Scott’s stomach. ‘Said yes to what, exactly?’ He seriously hoped his intuition was wrong.
Ben danced about, all arms and legs, like a drunken Bambi. ‘We’re getting married!’
Oh, hell. Scott became aware of a buzzing sound in his brain, alarm bells ringing, sirens blaring, but he was struck motionless by the shock.
Ben’s enthusiasm hadn’t wavered. ‘Isn’t it great?’
Scott tried for a response, but his brain refused to process the information.
‘Uncle Scott? It’s great news, right?’ Ben’s expression remained elated as he searched Scott’s face, looking for affirmation of his big announcement.
But Scott was far from thrilled. This wasn’t good news. This was a catastrophe. He looked at Billie, hoping his mum shared his reaction. She gave nothing away. Her face was its usual relaxed state, even though there appeared to be tears in her eyes. Good tears or bad, he couldn’t tell.
Ben tried again to force a response from his mute uncle. ‘You’re pleased, aren’t you?’
Scott wasn’t sure what he was, but he was pretty certain ‘pleased’ didn’t describe it. His instinct was to grab the kid and shout that it was a ridiculous idea, but he knew reacting in such a way would only strengthen the kid’s defences. He opted for a more muted response. ‘Surprise would better describe it. I had no idea this was on the cards.’
‘I’ve wanted to marry Amy from the moment we met.’ Ben’s face glowed with adoration.
‘You met at primary school.’ Scott tried not to sound patronising.
Ben bristled. ‘That’s when I knew. It was love at first sight. She’s the only girl for me. The person I want to spend the rest of my life with. She feels the same way.’
Scott chose his next words carefully. ‘I’m sure she does, but how you feel now might not be how you feel in five or ten years’ time.’
Ben looked disappointed. ‘I thought you of all people would understand.’
Nice dig. ‘Why, because I got engaged at a young age?’
Ben didn’t respond.
Scott tried again. ‘That only serves to prove my point. I was smitten, just as you are, sure of what I wanted. But look how things turned out.’ He tried not to look at his mum. He suspected she knew why Nicole had ended things, but he hoped not. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, but he didn’t want to lay more guilt onto everything else she had to deal with.
Ben looked defiant. ‘That won’t happen to us.’
Just what he’d said when his mates had commented on his decision to get engaged at twenty-five. ‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because
