If Ever I Fall. S.D. Robertson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ of Ruby for fear of upsetting her. But now she was out of earshot, Dan was keen to know what had happened.

      ‘I didn’t see it,’ Maria explained. ‘She was playing on the stairs, which she knows she shouldn’t have been doing. I was in the kitchen.’

      Dan knew that had their roles been reversed, Maria would have made a big issue of the whole “playing on the stairs” thing. He’d have been blamed for letting Ruby do it and accused of not paying enough attention. But he knew the reality: Ruby was eight and didn’t always do as she was told. You couldn’t watch children constantly at that age. You had to give them space to learn through making mistakes.

      ‘Which friend was she playing with?’ he asked. ‘Anyone I know?’

      ‘Um, no. A girl called Anna. She’s new in Ruby’s class. Recently moved to the area.’

      ‘Really? Great. What’s she like?’

      ‘Nice.’

      ‘Did she come by herself or with her mum?’

      Maria looked to the floor and scratched her forehead in that way Dan knew she did when she was uncomfortable. ‘Um. With her dad, actually. Rick.’

      ‘Oh, right. I see.’

      Dan did his best not to look surprised, irritated even. But he could see from Maria’s expression that he’d failed. He’d never had much of a poker face.

      ‘What?’ she asked defensively. ‘It’s not that unusual these days for a father to pick his kids up from school, you know.’

      ‘I never said it was. If you remember, I did it more than you when we were both working.’

      ‘You’re having a go at me for staying at home now?’

      ‘What are you on about?’

      ‘I heard the tone in your voice: derogatory, like I’m not as good as you, because I choose to be a full-time mum. You can jump off that high horse right now. Your earnings don’t come close to what mine used to be. And if it wasn’t for the money from my parents—’

      ‘Yes, yes, I know. Heard it all before. We wouldn’t be in this dream house of ours, if it wasn’t for them. Well, I’m not, am I? Not any more. I’m in my lovely damp flat instead. And as much as I hate it there, do you know what? It beats being here with you. You can shove your family money up your arse, Maria.’

      He slammed his half-full glass of wine on to the table, somehow not breaking it, and got up to leave. But now he couldn’t stop himself. She’d popped his cork, like a shaken bottle of fizz; the words came out by themselves. ‘It’s not possible for us to have a normal conversation any more, is it? Whatever I say, you always find a way to turn it into a bloody argument. Why the hell do I bother? You’re not the woman I married. You’re not even a shadow of her. There’s no going back for us, I can see that now. We’re done. We might as well get on with the divorce. Get it out of the way. Then I can be free of you. Maybe you can run off with your new friend Rick. It makes sense now why you were so dressed up today. Trying to impress him, were you? Well, good luck with that. Best not let him see how twisted you are, or he’ll run a mile.’

      Dan had expected Maria to fire back at him with a verbal assault of her own, but it didn’t come. Instead she burst into tears, which stopped him in his tracks, instantly cooling his anger and turning on the tap of regret. He took a deep breath, resisted the urge to apologise for his outburst, and left without another word.

      ‘Idiot,’ he said to himself, getting into his car and slamming the door. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself say all that stuff. No one knew the right buttons to press to upset her better than he did. She’d done the same to him on enough occasions, but he tried not to get sucked into that kind of thing. Epic fail this time, he thought. The worst bit was what he’d said about getting a divorce. In truth, that was the last thing he wanted, so why on earth had he said it? The one consolation was that he hadn’t gone further. He hadn’t mentioned her mental health, which would have been a tough one to come back from. And he’d not brought Sam into it, thank goodness.

      He considered returning to apologise, but he knew what Maria’s reaction would be if he did. She’d throw it straight back at him. She hated it when people said sorry for things, especially just after they’d said or done them.

      ‘You can keep your apology. I don’t want it.’

      How many times had she said that to him over the years? Countless, especially at the start of their relationship, before he got wise to it. She felt an apology was the easy option, favouring actions rather than words. Mind you, that opinion was forged in different times: days when she rarely got angry herself; when judging others for speaking in haste wouldn’t have been hypocritical. Things were different now. She was different.

      All the same, going back to say sorry didn’t feel like the right move, so Dan drove home. Well, he went back to the flat, which was the closest thing he had at the moment. He’d never think of it as home, because it wasn’t. He hated it too much for that. It felt more like a prison. Ironically, the place he thought of as home was the house he’d just left, having done a good job of making sure he wouldn’t be invited back any time soon.

      He opened a bottle of vodka and necked three shots in quick succession. He hoped the booze would raise rather than lower his spirits. Experience told him it could go either way. Looking for a distraction, he decided he ought to text Maurice to make sure everything had gone well with the papers.

      He’d downed several more shots and two bottles of beer by the time Maurice’s reply eventually arrived.

       All good. How’s Ruby? She was glad to see you, right?

       Yes. Tucked up in best not, ATM on plate.

      What? Bloody predictive text. Realising he was already quite drunk, Dan deleted the message and started again, concentrating to make sure he got it right this time.

       Yes. Tucked up in bed now, arm in plaster. Thanks again. See you tomorrow.

      Maurice’s question got Dan thinking. Had Ruby been pleased to see him at the hospital? He’d thought so at the time, but maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see. Her reaction had actually been quite muted. He’d put that down to the pain she was in, but now he wasn’t so sure.

      He could feel himself sinking into one of his moods, but it was too late to change anything now. He took another gulp of vodka, no longer bothering with the shot glass.

       CHAPTER 8

      I wake up to find I can’t move. It’s getting light outside and I’m looking up at the high ceiling of my room at Miles’s house. I know who I am: I’m Jack, and I have a head injury. But I can’t move. It’s like some invisible force is pinning me to the bed. I try again and again to raise myself up, but it’s no use.

      What the hell’s happening? I try to stay calm and rational, but it’s no good. My breathing gets faster; I can feel myself breaking out in a cold sweat. Panic is here. I can feel his bony fingers pressing down on my chest. I can smell his rotten breath.

      ‘Miles,’ I call out. ‘Help СКАЧАТЬ