Margot tried a few times to talk to Perry about getting back to studying or working part-time, but it wasn’t practical when Perry’s job took them to Europe, Canada, and finally back to London. And then when she really had a chance to do something for herself with Sebastian that bit older, she’d fallen pregnant with Alistair. And so it began again, the feeding, the sleepless nights, the weaning, and by that time Perry was in an even more demanding position and so it was all down to her. They bought this big house, and organising renovations, decorating, and holding get-togethers to impress Perry’s business associates became her world, a world she’d never wanted to be in in the first place.
Somehow, she’d ended up much like Perry’s mother, the woman she’d felt sorry for, a woman whose life she vowed she’d never let hers resemble. Any conversation with Perry about further study or her going out to work was flipped: she’d been made to feel like Perry was supporting her, telling her how good she was at being a wife and mother. She’d never once thought of it as a form of manipulation because he was so good at it. Instead, it had felt like a two-way conversation. It was only later she realised that was exactly how things had always gone for Phil and Linda.
And by that time, she was trapped.
Margot had learned over time that it was easier not to argue with Perry, but when he’d tried to enrol the boys in boarding school for their high school years, she’d had to dig deep and stand up to him. That day she hadn’t been quite sure where her fury and her guts had come from, but she’d told him that hell would have to freeze over before he took her boys away from her. She’d expected him to retaliate, but he hadn’t. She’d wondered whether her raw emotion had touched a nerve; perhaps he wished his own mother had been as vehement when he was sent away as a young boy for his own schooling.
Having a family was what had always stopped Margot from leaving Perry and so over the years she’d tried to make the best of things. She’d pretended she was content, told herself that things could be worse, and when Alistair was at school full-time she even started to look into study options. But Perry put a stop to any notion of her furthering her education or training in anything. He’d told her time and time again that the boys needed her no matter what age they were, and he knew that Sebastian and Alistair were her Achilles’ heel in an argument. And so she hadn’t sought out anything for herself. She’d been there whenever her sons needed or wanted her. And she’d been kept right where Perry wanted her too: at home without a life of her own to speak of.
A year or so after trying to find a study option Margot had floated the idea that she apply for a part-time job.
‘The school is looking for a receptionist,’ she’d said to Perry. ‘I think I could do it.’
But she must’ve caught him on a really bad day because rather than dismiss it and have her think she wasn’t capable he turned around and roared, ‘Do I not provide you with enough?’
‘That isn’t what I’m saying.’ To him it was all about money but to Margot it was about carving out a little bit of life away from this house.
‘Then what are you saying?’ he spat. He’d followed that up with a tirade of remarks about how hard he worked, how his father had taught him to be the man he was, how she was ungrateful for this big house and this comfortable life he’d given her.
The name-calling and criticism didn’t stop over the years and when Alistair announced his career choice Perry had turned to her and delivered a savage, ‘You’ve spoiled those boys and made sure they are nothing like me.’ And then he’d looked at his youngest son. A muscle in his jaw had twitched when he told Alistair, ‘You could’ve been more.’
Alistair had left the room after the remark and Margot had followed soon after, up to his bedroom.
‘Am I too much?’ she’d asked her youngest son as she sat on the edge of his bed next to him. ‘Have I mothered you and not let you make your own choices?’
He’d looked up from beneath his fringe. ‘No, you’re a good mum. The best.’
She put her arm round him and pulled him close. ‘You’re the best too.’
‘Not in Dad’s eyes.’
‘Your dad is?—’
‘No, don’t make excuses. It’s not your job to do that.’
‘I know, but I hate how he makes you feel.’
His voice caught when he told her, ‘I don’t know how to deal with him any more. I hate that he never seems to approve of what me and Sebastian are doing. I hate that he is horrible to you.’ And then he wrapped his arms around her, him the protector rather than her. He sniffed, and she knew he was trying to hide his tears.
Her heart broke a little bit more on that day, because it was one of the first times she realised that, try as she might to hide what was going on in her marriage, her sons knew.
Sebastian had clashed with Perry plenty of times too. And they’d argued bigger and louder than Perry and Alistair had, and then her eldest son had taken a job that took him far away from the family home in an effort to avoid the man who should be there for him and his brother unconditionally.
Now, in her bedroom in the house that was far too big for two of them, Margot opened the book on her bedside table, ready to lose herself in a romance with a hero who considered his heroine and those around him rather than just thinking about himself.
Unfortunately, now she’d started replaying her history with Perry it was hard to stop. Those words to Alistair –you could’ve been more– weren’t just applicable to his opinions about his sons, they meant something to her.
Shecould’ve been more. So much more than a wife who gave as much as she could and got nothing much in return from her husband.
She thought about the email she’d had from Faye a few days ago, saying she was going to Dorset to see her dad but also to check on Howard who she still hadn’t heard from. Faye was concerned about him and as the days went on Margot was getting increasingly worried too. Howard was a man she liked, admired, a man she could talk to, and the sort of man she hoped her boys would turn out to be. One thing was for sure: she didn’t want Sebastian or Alistair to take after their own father.
Her mind went back to seeing Sebastian’s postcards in the bin, to the tears Alistair had shed over his dad’s disapproval, the many times her boys had been made to feel not good enough. She thought of all the things Perry had taken from her, the friendships she’d lost, the marriage that was nothing like the partnership it should be, the way he spoke to her and treated her like she barely existed apart from to do his bidding.
Those suitcases were in the basement. They were waiting for her, and slowly she crept out of bed. Perry might think that their family was still intact but it wasn’t, not when the boys didn’t call much, rarely spoke to their father and no longer liked visiting. And definitely not with the fractured relationship they had with their dad. And only now did she really see that it was Perry who had broken their family apart. Not her, but him.
She could do this, couldn’t she? The reason for her staying all this time was no longer there.
But she couldn’t just walk out of here tonight; she needed a proper plan. And so at the kitchen table with a notepad and pen and her laptop, her heart beating wildly in her chest, she started to put one together. She didn’t have much money, but over the years leaving Perry had always been at the back of her mind and so she’d been squirrelling away some cash, here and there so it wouldn’t be noticed, and it was safely in an account Perry didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t much but it was enough to last her a couple of months if she was careful. She tried not to think of what would happen after that. She couldn’t or it would stop her going. There would never be a perfect time – if she waited for that it would never come.
