Free The Secret Life of Luke Livingstone by Charity Norman Page B

what makes you qualified to have an opinion about them?’
    ‘Some things are natural. Some things simply are not. And what they do is—’
    Wendy hadn’t finished her sentence before Eilish was on her feet, mumbling something about a headache. She charged upstairs, and a moment later the house shuddered as a door slammed shut. Everyone winced.
    Mum doesn’t slam doors. Kate slams doors.
    Silence.
    ‘Why did Granny run away?’ asked Nico.
    ‘Excuse me,’ said Luke, as he stood up too. ‘Sorry. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Please carry on without us . . . Kate, Simon, could you make sure everyone has what they need?’ He took the stairs two at a time, and disappeared.
    ‘Now Grandpa’s run away as well!’ cried Nico, and he began to cry.
    ‘Was it something I said?’ asked Wendy.
    Luke
    I found her leaning her forehead against the window, looking out across the drive towards the woods. This room knew everything about us. It had seen a young and hopeful couple setting up their first home together; it had been the backdrop as they travelled through the passing years. It had witnessed passion and grief and helpless laughter, arguments and makings-up, and raucous Christmas mornings with wrapping paper scattered across the floor.
    Other things, too. It had watched me at those times when Eilish was out and I’d given in to my desperate need. It knew everything.
    She spoke without looking around. ‘Why did you marry me?’
    ‘Because I was in love with you. I still am.’
    ‘Oh. Nothing to do with convenience, then? Nothing to do with providing a respectable cover? I think it was that.’
    I crossed the room to join her at the window, ransacking my mind for true answers. I had to be honest now. No more secrets.
    ‘Wasn’t I enough?’ she asked.
    ‘You were more than enough!’
    ‘Obviously not.’
    ‘The opposite is true,’ I protested. ‘You were so miraculous . . . I thought you could save me. I really thought I could conquer this thing, if I had you.’
    We stood side by side, a universe apart. I could almost hear her heartbeat. Noises filtered up from downstairs: a murmur of conversation, the quiet clattering of crockery, and eventually the thud of a car door. Someone was leaving. I really ought to go down there to see them off. It was my duty to play yet another role—that of the cheerful and apologetic host whose wife has suffered a sudden migraine. ‘Don’t worry,’ I would say. ‘She’ll be fine after a lie-down—she’s so sorry, it just hit her—please don’t feel you have to leave, let’s have a cup of tea.’ I knew all about playing roles. I was an old hand.
    As Mum’s car headed down the drive, Eilish moved listlessly. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘We still have guests.’
    ‘I don’t want to leave you alone.’
    She shrugged. ‘It’s you who’s hurt me, though, isn’t it?’
    She was broken, and I couldn’t put her together again.
    When I walked downstairs I was met by a reception committee. Kate and Simon were standing by the cleared table, waiting for me. It was years since I’d seen them look so unified.
    ‘Granny’s gone. She’s dropping Wendy at the station,’ said Kate. ‘Carmela and Nico are playing on the hay bales. Dad, please. This is awful. Tell us what’s going on.’
    Simon nodded. ‘If one of you is ill, or if there’s some serious problem, I think we have a right to know.’
    They eyed me with wary determination. My children. This pair, and their mother, were at the centre of my existence. I would die for them if I had to. In fact, that’s what I’d intended to do, that very week.
    Out in the garden, a thousand birds seemed to be singing. There were roses in a bowl on our kitchen table. I could retire soon, and travel with my beloved wife, and be a sedate grandfather. My children were clever, good, contented people; my grandson was the apple of everyone’s eye. And I was about to lose it all.
    For one last breath, I wavered. Perhaps it was not too late.