The bag is only half full. She could take so much more but she likes the idea of travelling light, leaving with just the essentials. She shoves the bag under her bed. Good. What next?
She picks through her jewellery box until she finds her mum’s old turquoise ring. Her engagement and wedding rings seem to suck onto her finger, like they don’t want to leave her. She twists her finger to get them off and doesn’t pause as she drops them into her jewellery box. Let Jack find them and realise how serious this is. Her mum’s turquoise ring is heavier on her finger, the metal cooler, more substantial and sure of itself than Jack’s thin rings. It feels right.
How is she going to let Jack know she’s going away for a while? Depending on how hungover he is, he probably won’t get up until about 10 a.m. and, after checking the shed, and finding it empty, he’d call Cassie and then probably Jonny. Jonny’s already involved enough as it is. She can’t expect him to be the one to tell Jack she’s gone away; he’d have to bear the brunt of Jack’s anger, and that wouldn’t be fair. Text is far too dismissive, too casual. Jack deserves more than that. It’ll have to be a letter.
She changes out of her scratchy, synthetic dress and into pyjamas. She coaxes Maisie out from under the bed where she shakes, cowed and vulnerable, even though the bangs from the fireworks have at last quietened. Downstairs is murky; the furniture and their possessions seem to spy on her like guards. She turns on a lamp, flicks the kettle and tears a page out of the book they used for notes to their cleaner, scrawled reminders to buy washing liquid and bin liners. She finds a black pen and starts writing. She doesn’t plan it; she just lets the words come. They follow her satisfyingly practical mood: Jack, I’m going away for a while. I don’t know how long. I need space. Please don’t call or look for me. I’ll be in touch when I’m ready. C.
She pours boiling water over a camomile tea bag; she’ll keep the letter with her tonight and leave it on the table early in the morning for Jack to find when she’s already left. She’s about to turn the light off and go upstairs when, from outside, a yellow light pools around the kitchen, as though it’s searching for something. For a mad moment, Cassie thinks it’s someone outside with a torch, Jonny maybe, come to check on her, before she hears the low crunch of wheels grinding against tiny pebbles and she knows the light isn’t from a torch, it’s from car headlights. Shit. Is Jack home so early? If she crept upstairs now, she could get into bed, pretend to be asleep and avoid him altogether. She slaps her hand against her leg and calls ‘Maisie’ but the little dog has disappeared again, her stubby tail poking out from under the sofa. Cassie will have to pull her out by the collar to get them both upstairs in time, but it’s too late. There are a few muffled words, the slam of a car door, pebbles chomping against each other as the cab turns around, and then the metallic chatter of a key in the lock. Cassie feels exposed. She wishes she could hide like Maisie, crawl under the sofa. Instead she shoves the letter into her pyjama pocket and picks up her tea as the door opens. Her heart eases as Charlotte walks through the front door.
‘Charlotte, what are you doing here?’ Cassie focuses on keeping her voice light. ‘I thought you were Jack.’ Charlotte moves slowly, glinting in her sequin dress as she hangs her black coat up on one of the pegs by the door, and, through the window, Cassie watches the cab as it indicates out of the drive. Why is she here?
Charlotte takes off her kitten heels by the door. She’s pulling off her gloves as she enters the kitchen; she looks small suddenly, like a child playing dress-up in her mum’s sparkly dress. She looks up at Cassie briefly and, seeing her mug, says, ‘Oh, you couldn’t make me one of those, could you, Cas?’
Cassie doesn’t move. Instead she says, ‘Sorry, Charlotte, I was just about to go up to bed actually.’
But Charlotte ignores her, and sits at the table with a small exhale, before she says, ‘I just need to talk with you for a few minutes. You left early tonight. Jack was looking for you for ages.’
‘I just wasn’t in the mood, that’s all, and I was worried about Maisie with all the noise.’
Charlotte looks up at Cassie and then she looks at the chair opposite her.
‘Come on, Cas,’ she says, ‘I wouldn’t be here at this time unless it was important.’
Cassie moves into the kitchen. They don’t talk as Cassie makes Charlotte a cup of herbal tea.
Even though she strains to be alone again, Cassie decides she doesn’t want Charlotte to worry, so she puts the tea in front of her mother-in-law and lowers herself into the chair opposite Charlotte. She’ll listen to her for a few minutes, gulp back her tea, and in ten minutes she’ll be upstairs, checking over her bag one last time before she can get into bed and wait for the sun to rise.
But first, she has to deal with Charlotte, who rests her palms on the table and is staring at Cassie as though she’s seeing her for the first time.
‘Whatever is going on has to stop, Cassie.’
Cassie feels a frown crest over her whole face.
‘Please, Cassie, be respectful. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen you and Jonny together. I saw you all those months ago at the food festival, the way he looked at you. I didn’t think anything had happened then, but I could see he wanted it to; that’s why I told you about Mike. I thought you’d understand. I didn’t tell you just for the sake of it. I was warning you to be careful.’
Cassie stares at Charlotte’s mouth, too stunned to say anything herself, so Charlotte keeps talking.
‘I wanted you to see how hard I’d worked to protect Jack, the sacrifices I’ve made so Jack could keep believing his dead dad was this hero, this perfect man. I wanted you to hear it from me; I thought it’d make you think, stop you from wrecking your marriage. Ever since you lost the baby, you’ve been different. That was understandable at first, but now I see you and Jonny, messing around like you did before.’ She looks up sharply at Cassie as she says, ‘I won’t let you destroy my son.’
Cassie almost laughs in outrage.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t listen to this.’ Cassie shakes her head, stands up from her chair, but Charlotte is too fast. She grabs Cassie’s wrist.
‘Don’t you ignore me.’
Cassie wriggles her wrist away from her mother-in-law and slaps her hand down hard on the surface of the table.