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CHAPTER 7
BEFORE
Wednesday, 5 April 2017

The phone on Dan’s desk rang, jangling loudly through the newsroom.

He looked at the clock: 5.45 p.m. Shit.

‘Yes?’

‘Hello, Dan. It’s Susan on reception. I’m sorry to bother you when you’re on deadline. It’s your wife. She says it’s urgent.’

He felt like correcting her and saying ‘ex-wife’, although technically that wasn’t the case. They were still married, but only on paper. Why was she calling him now? Better than a last-minute story coming through, which was what he’d feared, but not by much. It was never good news when she called these days.

‘You’d better put her through,’ he told Susan.

‘Right. Here she is.’

‘Hello?’

‘It’s Maria.’

‘I know. What can I do for you?’

‘There’s been an accident. I’m at A&E with Ruby.’

That got his attention. ‘What? Is she all right?’

‘Not really. She’s broken her arm.’

‘You’re joking. How?’

‘She fell down the stairs. She was playing with a friend.’

‘Bloody hell, Maria. How bad is it?’

‘I’m not a doctor, Dan. All I know so far is that the arm’s broken.’

Why did she always have to be so offhand with him? Dan wondered. His eyes drifted from the keypad of the desk phone to a half-finished mug of coffee that had long since gone cold. ‘Trust me, I’m a journalist!’ was printed on the side – a gift from Maria back in the good old days.

‘Which hospital are you at?’ he asked.

‘St Joseph’s. We only got here about half an hour ago. We’ll be ages yet.’

‘Can I talk to her?’

‘Hold on.’

There was a pause as Maria spoke to Ruby. All Dan could hear was a hospital announcement in the background.

‘She doesn’t want to,’ Maria said a moment later. ‘She’s in a lot of pain.’

‘Oh. Listen, I’d come to the hospital, but—’

‘But what?’

‘It’s Wednesday, Maria.’

She knew full well what that meant: deadline night for all three of his papers. But she was clearly in no mood for cutting him any slack.

‘Of course. Work comes first. What was I thinking?’

‘Don’t be like that. I’ll get out of here as soon as I can, but you know how it is. You said yourself there’s nothing to do but wait.’

‘Right.’

‘Thanks for letting me know.’

‘You’re her father.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Dan sighed. ‘Listen, I’ll call you in a bit when I’m done. See where you’re up to.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Come on, Maria. Don’t be like that. Are you sure she won’t speak to me?’

‘I have to go. Someone’s coming over.’

‘Wait … Hello?’ Damn. She’d hung up on him. Most of their phone calls seemed to end that way nowadays. Being separated was hard work – especially when a child was involved.

Was it unreasonable of him not to down tools and race over to the hospital immediately? Was that what most fathers would do? Probably, but he was so bloody busy. He found it so tough to strike the right balance with Ruby. The temptation, of course, was to wrap her up in cotton wool; do everything to keep her safe; pander to her every need. That was Maria’s way, but Dan knew it would only make Ruby more vulnerable in the long run. Wouldn’t they be better preparing her for the harsh realities she’d face later in life? Wasn’t that the best way to—

‘Smoke?’

He looked up to see Maurice standing next to his desk, a freshly rolled cigarette tucked behind one ear. There was a smile stretched across his ruddy face and he looked as laid-back as ever.

‘I’ve even got my own today,’ he said.

‘So I see.’

‘I can roll one for you too, if you like. Might as well take advantage while I have some baccy.’

‘No, thanks. I’ll stick to my Marlboro Lights. I will join you, though. I could do with a break.’

‘Good stuff.’

Maurice, who was in his late forties, had wavy salt and pepper hair that got increasingly messy the longer he spent at work. He was great company: a magnetic character, liked by everyone in the office. He was good at his job and fazed by nothing. Mostly, though, it was his easy manner that people warmed to; his ability to focus on whoever he was talking to and make them feel important. He’d listen and empathise in a way that made them want to confide in him, like they had a special relationship. It was quite the gift and especially useful as a bachelor. Despite his average looks, he always seemed to have several girlfriends on the go at once. Not that he’d ever boast about the fact; that wasn’t his style. He was more likely to look embarrassed than proud if someone brought it up.

‘Are you all right, mate?’ he asked Dan as they took the lift downstairs. ‘You look troubled.’

‘I had my wife on the phone. Ruby’s at A&E. She fell down the stairs and broke her arm.’

‘Oh, no. That’s awful. How’s she doing?’

‘Well, she’ll be there a while, by the sound of things.’

‘Are you getting out of here, then?’

‘I doubt it. Not for a few hours, anyway. I’ve still got loads to tie up. These things always happen on deadline day, don’t they?’

‘I can help, if you like. I’m not too busy.’

‘Thanks, but it’s not like I’d be able to do anything for her at the hospital.’

‘No, but you’re her dad. She’ll want you there. Trust me.’

Maurice had a daughter of his own – a nineteen-year-old from a short-lived relationship in his younger days – so he did know what he was talking about. However, he didn’t know how tricky things had been with Ruby recently. She hadn’t taken well to Dan moving out of the family home. He’d always suspected that she blamed him for the split with Maria and a few weeks ago she’d said as much. It was blurted out in anger and she’d apologised later on, claiming not to have meant it, but the words had stuck with Dan. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Weren’t the weekends with him supposed to be the fun time? Weren’t daughters supposed to be daddy’s girls? Welcome to reality, he thought.

By the time they went back inside, Dan had agreed to accept Maurice’s kind offer to stand in and finish his papers off for him.

‘You’re sure?’ he asked one more time before leaving for the hospital.

‘Go. Be with your daughter.’

‘Thanks, mate. I owe you.’

Half an hour later he was at St Joseph’s, where Ruby was slumped in a chair, her arm in a sling, waiting to have an X-ray.

‘Hello, darling,’ he said, crouching down next to her and kissing her pale cheek, careful not to brush against her arm.

She gave her best attempt at a smile, although it barely registered on her drawn face. ‘Hi, Daddy,’ she whispered.

‘You look wiped out, little one. How are you doing?’

‘Not good.’

‘Poor thing.’

He looked over at Maria, who was sitting on the next seat along. ‘Hi. I managed to get away.’

‘So I see.’ She didn’t go as far as thanking him, but she did look pleasantly surprised.

‘Have they given her something for the pain?’ he asked.

Maria nodded.

It was late by the time they finally got Ruby home, her arm in plaster, and they put her straight to bed. That evening was the longest time all three of them had spent together in ages, Dan noted. And there hadn’t been one argument. It almost felt like they were a family again.

‘Night night,’ Maria said, planting a kiss on Ruby’s forehead before leaving Dan to tuck her in.

He knelt at the side of her bed and stroked her hair. ‘How are you feeling, darling?’

‘Tired,’ she whispered.

‘Does your arm still hurt?’

She nodded, fresh tears trickling down her flushed cheeks.

‘Better than before, though?’ Dan asked, wiping the tears away with a thumb.

‘A bit.’

‘Don’t worry: you’ll be back to normal in no time. One of the best things about being a child is that you heal quickly. Anyway, I’d better let you sleep, hadn’t I?’

She reached out with her good arm, eyes anxious. ‘No. Stay.’

‘Okay, love, I will.’ Taking her hand, he leaned over and kissed her on each cheek. ‘But you close your eyes. It’s late and sleep is really important when your body needs to fix itself.’

Moving into a more comfortable seated position, Dan leaned against the side of Ruby’s bed and promised not to leave until she’d nodded off.

Thank goodness she’s all right, he thought, his heart swelling with the love he felt for his precious daughter.

As he sat there, silent in the dark bedroom, Dan’s eyes grew heavy.

Next thing he knew, he was woken by a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Maria holding a finger to her lips. ‘Come on,’ she whispered, signalling for him to follow her out of the room.

Once on the landing, he asked: ‘How long was I—’

‘Only a few minutes.’

‘Sorry. She wanted me to stay until she fell asleep.’

‘Don’t worry. Listen, I’m going to get changed. Fancy a drink before you go? If you’re not too tired.’

Pleasantly surprised, Dan stifled a yawn. ‘Um, sure.’

‘I’ve no beer, but there’s a bottle of white in the fridge.’

‘Great.’

‘Help yourself. I’m going to freshen up.’

‘No problem. Would you like a glass too?’

‘Are you kidding? I could down the bottle in one.’

‘I’ll make it a large, then.’

She joined him in the kitchen a few minutes later, make-up free, wearing jogging bottoms and a hoodie. It was quite a comedown from the outfit she’d been wearing before, which had been the most dressy he’d seen her in ages.

‘Comfy?’ he asked with a grin, fully awake again now.

‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

He was thinking back to when she used to dress up, not down, for him. But he stopped himself from saying so. Things between them right now were the most amicable they’d been in ages. Showing up at the hospital had earned him precious brownie points. No point ruining it.

‘The outfit you had on earlier was really nice,’ he added. ‘That’s all.’

She squinted at him over the kitchen table. ‘And now I look a mess.’

‘That’s not what I said. I was paying you a compliment.’

He stopped short of accusing her of twisting his words. That would definitely lead to an argument.

She stared at him for a moment. He imagined the cogs of her mind whirring behind her beautiful hazel eyes. They’d once beamed pure love at him. Now they were more often than not a tool of accusation; of anger and frustration. Maybe even hate, although he hoped not. He couldn’t bear to think that things between them had veered so far off course. They’d been so good together. Under normal circumstances, he was sure they’d still be happily married. But what they’d been through was enough to tear apart even the strongest of unions.

She sighed. ‘I’m tired. It’s been a long day.’

‘No problem,’ he replied, pleasantly surprised. He couldn’t recall the last time Maria had backed down like that.

They’d not discussed the accident in front 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.