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Sophy was shaking now with a mixture of anger and agony. How could he stand there and pretend a concern for her they both knew he could not possibly feel?
In a voice tight with pain she told him. ‘You’ve got a visitor—in the sitting room. Lillian Banks!’ She almost spat the name at him, half of her knowing that she was reacting like someone in a soap melodrama, the other half acknowledging that like any other human being she was conditioned to react to pain so instinctively that her responses were bound to appear trite and theatrical. ‘She’s just been telling me about your plans for the future—plans which it seems don’t include either me or the children... Well, that’s fine by me,’ she rushed on bitterly. ‘In fact it’s probably the very best thing that could have happened.’ It wasn’t what she had intended to say at all, but hurt pride compelled her to make some attempt at self-defence; to at least try to hide from Jon the hurt he was causing her.
His hand shot out gripping her wrist, making her cry out sharply in physical pain.
She had never seen him look so hard or so angry before, and she could not understand why he was doing so now. ‘Are you trying to tell me you want our marriage to end, Sophy?’ he demanded harshly. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Yes! Yes!’ She practically screamed the word at him, tears flooding down her face as she tried desperately to pull away from him. The sitting-room door opened and Lillian exclaimed purringly, ‘Jon, darling...’ Sophy felt the pressure round her wrist relax and instinctively made her escape, fleeing upstairs to the privacy and sanctuary of her own bedroom.
Once there, oddly enough, her tears stopped. The pain inside her was too intense for crying. Later she couldn’t recall how long she stayed there...how much time elapsed after Jon’s arrival before he left again, this time with Lillian.
From her window Sophy saw them both get into Lillian’s car. Lillian was smiling but she couldn’t see Jon’s face.
So this was how marriages ended, she thought emptily once they had gone. So this was what it felt like to be the victim of a broken marriage. Empty...alone...waiting for a pain so enormous and overwhelming that the very thought of it made her shiver in dread.
Somehow she managed to go downstairs and through the motions of making herself a cup of coffee. Somehow she remembered that the children had to be collected from school, that life had to go on as normal.
The phone rang. She hesitated before answering it, and then picked up the receiver.
‘Sophy?’
She recognised Harry’s American accent straight away.
‘Is Jon there?’ He sounded anxious and flustered.
‘He’s just left.’ How toneless and light her own voice was. She replaced the receiver slowly. The phone started to ring again almost immediately, its summons imperative and sharp. She stared at it unblinkingly and then took it off the hook. She had the children to pick up, she must remember that.
Later Sophy realised that she had had no right to be driving at all that afternoon, never mind in such a potentially lethal, powerful car. All her actions were automatic and reflexive, directed by that tiny part of her brain which was not trying desperately to assimilate her pain.
She even managed to smile at David and Alex as they clambered into the car and started chattering to her, although she was conscious of David giving her one or two puzzled looks.
How could Jon not want them? A fierce wave of protective love for them surged over her. Well she would want them and she would fight for the right to love and care for them. Slowly different pieces of information were filtering through her brain. She stared at the house as she parked the car. How could she afford to keep it on? How much of an allowance would Jon give her? He was a comparatively wealthy man but her heart rebelled at the thought of taking so much as a penny from him. If she wanted to keep the children though, she would have to support them. She couldn’t work full-time and give them the love and attention they were going to need. Didn’t Jon care what he was doing to them, even if he didn’t care about her? He owed it to them. She sighed and tried to redirect her thoughts. She had seen this same situation played out so often before...when did adults ever really think about their children, when they were gripped by the intensity of love? People these days weren’t brought up to put others before themselves any longer and in many ways that was a good thing. Too many people, mainly of her own sex, had made themselves martyrs to others’ demands and needs too often in the past...but the children. Stop thinking about it, she told herself as she went into the house. She knew she had to stop the tormenting thoughts swirling round in her mind or go mad from the agony of them. She tried to submerge them in physical activity, busying herself making the milkshake the children always had when they came back from school.
