Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

16. The Big D （Spoiler not Dick）

16

THE BIG D (SPOILER: NOT DICK)

DEX

P arents are supposed to be as constant as the moon. No one enjoys dealing with parental upheaval, even when they’re fully grown. Although, when the thing for which the parents are known is shittiness, it’s another matter entirely.

Which is why I can’t help but feel a glimmer of something when Mum asks me and Belle to have lunch with her at Daphne’s in South Ken, one of her favourite haunts for years and years. The fact of her asking isn’t unusual in itself—God knows, I only see her without Dad these days—but the way she asked was a little odd. The invitation felt oddly formal. Tentative.

So when Belle and I rock up one Thursday lunchtime, a good thirty years younger than the rest of the clientele, it’s a relief to find that Mum looks well. Seriously well, in fact. She’s looking glowy and radiant. Girlish, almost. Which should be an odd thing to say about a woman in her late fifties but seems deserved today .

My sister is in good spirits, too. Rosalie is at home with Rafe, so I suspect she’s happy to be out on the town, lunching like a civilised human being.

‘How’s Dad?’ she asks idly as she dunks her focaccia in olive oil. We’ve just ordered our mains, and, a glass of chilled white having been poured for each of us, our server has retired.

Mum pauses in the kind of ominous way that has me immediately thinking cancer or something equally awful. My stomach flips before I remember that I don’t care.

Whatever’s going on with Dad, he’s dead to me already.

‘I have some news,’ Mum says, ‘and I’m sure it’ll come as a shock to you, but I’m here to listen, and to talk. And if you’re feeling strong enough, I’d love your support, too, because goodness knows I’ll need it.’

Cancer. Definitely cancer.

‘Is he okay?’ Belle asks, her eyes wide. ‘Are you?’

Mum gives one of those little motherly nods and pats my sister on the hand. ‘Everyone’s fine. All is well. But I’ve made a decision—a very big decision, actually. This weekend I intend to sit your father down and tell him I’d like a divorce.’

There’s a stunned silence. Divorce, that exit strategy espoused by a huge proportion of married couples, is simply not an option I’ve ever considered for my parents. God knows, it’s hard to think of a more divorce-worthy husband than my father, but given how ultra-Catholic they are, I’ve always assumed the only way out of their marriage was feet-first in a box.

My mind is a whirlwind of disbelief, thoughts emerging and popping like fireworks.

I would never have thought Mum capable of this. Never. Then again, I’d never have thought her capable of standing up to Dad sufficiently to attend both her children’s weddings.

Also: Dad will never agree to this. Never.

Also: in the eyes of the law, that doesn’t matter. If one half of a married couple wants out, I’m pretty sure there’s a way to do it.

‘Bloody hell, Mum,’ I say, blowing out a breath and glancing at my sister to see how she’s taking it. She looks as stunned as I am, but there’s something else there, too. Pride, I think, and possibly even… amusement?

‘Oh my God,’ she babbles. ‘That’s just—wow! I’m so, so proud of you!’

Mum laughs and puts her hand to her heart. ‘I’ve been so worried about telling you both!’

‘Oh no.’ I shake my head. ‘No need. This is massive. Like Belle said, we’re so proud of you. I honestly never thought you’d walk out on him.’

Mum’s face grows more serious. ‘It’s very, very frightening. I’m almost sixty, for crying out loud. I thought I’d wake up next to your father every day for the rest of my life.’ She pauses. ‘We made vows. Till death do us part. ’

Belle and I exchange another glance, this one grim.

‘You did,’ I say, ‘but you only get one life. And you didn’t agree to put up and shut up as he became more and more of a bigoted wanker.’

Mum presses her lips together like she’s trying and failing to disapprove. ‘I did agree to love him in sickness and in health,’ she said, ‘and sometimes it seems to me that what he has is some kind of sickness.’

‘Do you actually still love him?’ Belle asks before taking a healthy swig of her wine.

‘I love the essence of him,’ Mum says slowly. ‘Or at least— I can still see in him the man I fell in love with. Does that make sense?’

We both nod glumly.

‘But I don’t like him. I don’t like the choices he makes, and I can’t respect them. I can’t respect his values anymore. They’re all twisted from where I’m standing. And he’s rejected our son’—her big eyes fill with tears—‘and I’ll never, ever forgive him for that. It makes me want to slap him every time I look at that smug, self-righteous face of his. Ugh! He’s so certain of his moral rectitude all the time, and yet I can’t for the life of me find Christian kindness in anything he does.’

‘Yeah,’ Belle agrees, ‘it’s all about principles and, like, weird, archaic rules. He doesn’t seem to let himself follow his heart.’

‘I mean, I agree with all of it, obviously,’ I say with a shrug, ‘but still, it’s a big step. Have you had some help? Do you have a lawyer? Dad’s a pretty astute guy—he’s not going to appreciate having you go all unilateral on him. His pride will take a massive hit, for one thing. Do you want us to find you representation? I’d definitely advise having all your ducks in a row before you drop the bombshell.’

Honestly, it’s worrying. Mum’s someone who’s lived in a very patriarchal relationship for most of her adult life. Dad’s always been the financial expert, Mum the homemaker. I’m not sure she’d know one end of a direct debit form from the other, and I’m definitely not confident she has the wherewithal to shore up her defences against an opponent who happily resorts to bullying when he’s backed into a corner. Especially when it’s a corner of his own making.

‘I have some friends who’ve been advising me,’ Mum says now, looking a bit flustered. She swivels the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. ‘Verity’s been great, actually. One of her friends just took her ex-husband to the cleaners—not that I’m intending to do that to your father, of course—and introduced me to her lawyer. He says I have an excellent case, your father’s lack of willingness in a divorce notwithstanding.’

‘That’s great, Mum,’ Belle says. ‘God, I can’t believe you’ve been going through all this alone! You could have told us, you know. We’d have helped you through it.’

‘I haven’t been alone.’ Mum flushes slightly. ‘Charles has also been very supportive.’

This focaccia is criminally good. There’s a time and a place to go light on carbs, but lunch at Daphne’s definitely isn’t one of them. I put it on top of the circle of olive oil on my side plate and press down so it soaks up every drop.

‘Who’s Charles?’ I ask idly.

She raises her eyebrows in a don’t be obtuse , dear way.

‘Oh my God, ’ Belle hisses, leaning forward. ‘Not Max’s dad?’

‘Yes, actually.’ She shifts in her seat.

I abandon my oil-soaked bread in shock. ‘Wait—you’re telling me you and Charles have stayed in touch?’ This is a total fucking bombshell—almost as much of a bombshell as the divorce news. My cognitive whirlwind is quickly escalating to a tornado, because our wedding was six months ago now.

Belle’s jaw is on the floor too, though she looks pleased as punch. ‘Mum! You little flirt! Have you been carrying on with another man on the side?’

‘Of course not.’ Mum manages to look morally outraged. ‘It’s simply—we shared some confidences at the wedding, and he was very kind. Very, shall we say, broad-minded, which was a bit of a novelty for me. We stayed in touch by text message, and… ’

‘And what?’ I drawl. I’m fucking tickled pink. I can’t wait to tell Max about this, though I have a feeling it won’t surprise him. He made some offhand comment after our honeymoon about his dad being quite taken by my mum, but I laughed it off. Obviously. Mum’s an attractive woman, and Charles is, I’m sure, lonely, but she’s married. End of story.

At least, I thought it was.

‘And it turned into a monthly lunch at Le Gavroche,’ Mum says, appearing to find the contents of her wineglass fascinating. She’s bashful! Oh my God.

‘Okay, sorry to be crass,’ my sister says, swiping her fingertips over her forehead, ‘but are we talking a romance here? Are you leaving Dad for Charles? Or is it more like something you might explore when the divorce has gone through?’

‘I’m not leaving your father for anyone,’ Mum says quickly, ‘but it’s a fair question, and it deserves an honest answer. You’re both adults, and you’ve proven how courageous you can be when it comes to standing up for the kind of happiness you deserve, so let me be as frank as I can with you.

‘Spending time with Charles has definitely given me some perspective on how men can be, on how friendships, even, between men and women can be. Your father’s always been very good to me, in the ways he knows how, obviously. We’ve had a lovely life.

‘But the world has changed, and you two have helped me change, and the way your dad looks at everything just seems to be to be so, I don’t know, antiquated and intransigent, and I swear he’s getting worse every year. He’s retreating into what seems to be a safe space for him, but it feels more like a rabbit hole. ’

She sighs. ‘I’m tired of it, frankly, and he’s retreated so far that there’s no common ground left. Besides, he’s broken up our family, and I’ll never be able to forgive him for it.

‘When I was sitting with Charles at your wedding and then at the reception dinner,’ she says to me, ‘I kept waiting to feel that shot of fear and panic that he’d act out and get into one of those awful rages, and of course he didn’t, because he’s not like your father. The way he sees the world, and your relationship, is how I feel it should be viewed: as something wonderful and exciting and awe-inspiring and liberating. I think that’s it, really. I don’t feel free with your father. I have to constantly watch my words. I feel like I’m even censoring my thoughts sometimes! And I’m jolly sick of it.’

Belle’s face is pale. I despondently pour us all some more wine before stuffing that squishy square of focaccia into my mouth.

‘God, Mum, that’s so depressing,’ she says. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling like this, but I’m so, so proud of you for realising that you’re free to walk away at any time. It takes so much courage to do that, and I hope you know that we’ll be right beside you for the whole thing.’

‘What she said,’ I say with my mouth full.

‘Thank you, my darlings,’ Mum says, smiling at both of us in turn. ‘I’m sure it won’t be easy, and the more traditional side of me baulks at the idea that I’m walking away from the man I’ve always loved and leaving him to grow old alone.’

‘He’ll be free to become a monk now,’ I say, and Belle snorts.

‘You’re dreadful,’ Mum says with a small smile.

‘He won’t be alone,’ my sister says blithely. ‘He’ll have God, and he’ll be absolutely fine living in splendid isolation. ’

‘I have to tell you,’ Mum says, screwing up her face like she’s in pain. ‘There was one thing he said a couple of months ago—it was the straw that broke the camel’s back, I think. At the very least, I felt a lot better about the path I’d gone down. It came out of his mouth, and I looked at him in that moment, and I simply could not see the loving, devout man I’d married.’

‘What the hell did he say?’ I ask.

When she looks at me, there’s so much pity in her eyes.

‘I don’t know why it surprised me so much, given the way he’s cut you out of his life—or forced you to cut him out, I suppose. But it really did. I was talking about you, about how well Darcy’s dance studio was doing. I tell him tidbits from time to time. It’s hard to know with your father how much he’s struggling to keep up those walls he builds. He’d never admit that he misses you, because that would mean admitting that he’s made a mistake to estrange himself from you.

‘But I let it drop that you’d just found out Darcy was pregnant. I admit I was stirring the pot a little—you know how loopy your dad is about babies.’ She covers my hand with hers and squeezes, giving me a sad smile. ‘He looked straight at me and said that your child would be none of his business and he wouldn’t consider it his flesh and blood.’

I shut my eyes, running my tongue over my top lip. What the fuck is wrong with that guy? Does he honestly value the small print of his faith so highly that he’d shun an innocent baby born out of nothing but love?

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘It’s not like I’d ever let him meet him or her, anyway. If he won’t meet Darcy and Max, there’s no way he’s getting his hands on our baby. Honestly, it doesn’t change anything.’

But Mum’s not having any of my bravado. I may be right, but it still fucking hurts that he can have created me and then walked away when I’ve been the perfect fucking golden boy my whole life.

‘I’m so, so sorry my darling,’ she whispers. ‘I didn’t know if I should tell you, but I’ve been stewing over it for weeks now. It’s really been eating me up inside. I wondered about asking Charles’ advice, but you can imagine what his reaction would be. After all, Ben’s the man who’s shunned Charles’ son. In the end, I decided to mention it to you. I’d rather hurt you now than risk you reaching out to him when your baby is born and have it be an even bigger rejection.’

The man who raised me is making it his business to outright deny the existence of everyone I love.

If I didn’t already have it, I’d consider Mum’s words a sign that it’s about time I do the same to him.

When I glance up at my sister, every single one of the emotions currently slashing my heart to bloody, pulsing ribbons is mirrored in her eyes.