about the last year? Is that what you thought would happen?’ she pressed.
‘Well no, but…’ he trailed off, obviously seeing his error in judgement.
‘Pete, you walked out on your family when times got tough. I needed you and you weren’t there.’ Her voice was gentler but the tone still firm.
‘You don’t know what it was like for me. You completely understood everything the doctor was saying and seemed to know what you were doing.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ she exhaled in disbelief. ‘I didn’t have a clue what was going on! I don’t think anybody ever does when they get an autistic diagnosis. I had the same thoughts and questions going round in my mind as you did.’
‘But you were nodding and smiling and sounded like you knew exactly what the doctor was saying to you – you were asking questions about what to do around the house and how we could make life easier for him and—’
‘So because I opened my mouth and asked the questions that were inside my head instead of shutting off and refusing to acknowledge that our son needed help, I’m now a pro at it all?’
‘Well no, but it sounded like you were fine with it.’
‘We had no choice but to be fine with it – he’s our son no matter what. You should’ve felt the same.’ Her voice trailed off as unexpected emotion caught the back of her throat.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It was just too hard.’
‘So, you’re just giving up on him?’ She asked the question but wasn’t sure she was ready for the answer.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’
‘So this is you trying, is it?’
He nodded and then sipped his coffee.
‘Well, I suppose late is better than never.’ He seemed to perk up. ‘But don’t think you can just swan back in here like nothing happened. It took Jack a long time to change his routine; he’s used to you not being here now. I’m not even sure he will be OK with seeing you.’
‘What do you mean, “OK with seeing me” – I’m his dad!’
‘His dad who left him!’
‘Fine,’ he conceded, realising he didn’t have a leg to stand on.
‘We’ll have to come to an arrangement, sort out a plan as to how we’re going to reintroduce you into his everyday life.’ As much as she hated him for leaving, Nancy couldn’t ignore the fact that this was potentially the moment that Jack got his dad back. No matter how much she might be angry at Pete, she wouldn’t be the one to stop Jack seeing his dad.
‘OK,’ he grunted, acting like a teenager who had just been told they could have twenty quid if they washed the car first.
‘But we can’t do anything right now; we can sort it out once we get back from our holiday.’
‘Holiday? Since when are you going away on holiday?’
‘Since my shitty husband walked out on me, and my son and I have had to tear myself into twenty-five gazillion pieces just to make ends meet – I think we have earned a little break away in the sun, don’t you?’ She glared at him, daring him to argue. ‘Exactly.’ She stood and cleared away the mugs, taking his before he had a chance to finish the last mouthful. ‘So, if you don’t mind, I have some packing to do.’ She indicated towards the front door with her head.
Pete stood up and marched towards the door. ‘Oh, and this time,’ Nancy began, and Pete turned around looking hopeful. ‘When I call you – answer the bloody phone!’
She watched him exhale in frustration as he exited their family home, the home he’d decided to abandon. Pushing the door shut behind him, she returned to the kitchen and began loading the dishwasher. It felt strange seeing Pete after all that time. Her reaction had not been what she’d expected – emotionally or physically. She’d spent the last year believing that when – if – he walked back through that door, she would be overjoyed to see him. She would wrap her arms around him and thank him for returning to them, for making their family complete again. Instead, she felt an overwhelming feeling of anger and betrayal. Instead of begging him to come back, she had been blunt, stern and regimented in her responses to him. All the memories of the struggles over the last year had catapulted into the forefront of her mind. She wasn’t falling apart emotionally without him and after seeing him today, she actually felt that little bit stronger knowing that she had coped. He hadn’t been there and she had managed. A small part of her felt sad for the loss of respect for her husband, but she needed to suppress that and focus on making the right changes, for Jack. If Pete wanted to be in their lives, that was fine. But there was no way she was letting him back into her head. The consequences of letting that happen were too difficult to think about.
Harriet made her way upstairs to see how far Isla had got with her packing. This really went against the grain with her as she was quite the control freak when it came to packing bags and getting organised – it was the businesswoman in her. However, when she had told Isla they were going on holiday, her little girl had insisted on packing her own bag. How hard could it be, Harriet thought to herself.
As she walked into Isla’s bedroom she was faced with piles and piles of clothes strewn about the room with just a small pile on top of the suitcase she had placed on Isla’s bed. Yet her daughter was nowhere to be seen.
‘Isla?’ Harriet called out, scanning the room in a bit of a panic.
‘Yeah?’ came the reply.
‘Where are you?’ Harriet slowly edged further into the room.
‘I’m here!’ Isla shouted, suddenly appearing from a pile of clothes in the corner of the room.
Harriet jumped, unable to control the small shriek that spilt out of her mouth as she threw her hand up to her chest, feeling her heartbeat race. Now that Harriet looked closer, she could see that Isla had built some sort of house with her clothes and duvet.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I built a den! Look, here’s the door, here’s the window and here are the flowers in the garden.’ She jumped around the mound of materials as she gave Harriet the grand tour. ‘Come inside!’ she squeaked.
Harriet was already shaking her head. ‘No, not right now. Mummy’s busy. I thought you were packing?’ Her phone beeped and Harriet took it out of her pocket, reading the email from work as Isla began to whine about wanting her to come inside the den. She exhaled in frustration as she read the email, asking her to a meeting in Ireland next month. Another hassle to organise childcare and have her mum tell her what a failure she was as a mother because she worked instead of staying at home with her two children. She flagged the email so that she could reply once Isla was in bed and she could concentrate better. She looked back at her five-year-old who was expectantly waiting for an answer to whatever question she had just asked her mum.
‘Sorry Isla, what were you saying?’
‘Urgh!
