Second Chance - Jane Green [96]
‘So what are you saying?’ Marcus leans forward, his voice now dangerously soft. ‘You want me to leave work so you can see me more? You want me to leave my job so I can spend more time with the children? Fine.’ His voice starts to rise, and as people sitting around them turn to stare Holly wishes she could disappear.
‘You want me to be a stay-at-home husband or dad, fine, but who’s going to pay the mortgage? Who’s going to put food on the table? Who’s going to put the children through school? Your illustrating work doesn’t exactly contribute to anything; but fine, if that’s what you want, I’ll give my notice in tomorrow.’
‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Holly whispers, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m not saying that, I’m just saying that we have to find a different way of doing things.’
‘Fine.’ Marcus sits back and crosses his arms, waiting.
‘How?’
‘I don’t know, Marcus!’ Holly is almost in tears. ‘I’m trying to talk to you about this, to tell you how I feel. I’m not attacking you. I don’t know why you’re jumping on the defensive.’
‘I’ll tell you why,’ Marcus hisses. ‘Because I work like a dog to keep you happy. Do you think I’m doing it for me? I couldn’t care less about work. All I care about is my family, you and the kids, and I’m doing this so you can live in your big, beautiful house in Brondesbury. I’m doing this so you can wear your cashmere sweaters and not worry about anything. You can’t have it both ways, Holly. That’s not how it works.’
Holly sits back and looks at him, four words going through her head. Over and over and over.
You big fucking liar.
He’s not doing this for her. Or the children. The truth is Holly doesn’t give a damn about the big, beautiful house or the cashmere fucking sweaters. She never has.
She doesn’t give a damn about any of the stuff that Marcus deems so necessary in order for people to look at him and think he is someone important, someone special. A big shot.
You big fucking liar.
He’s doing exactly what he always does. He doesn’t hear her, can’t hear anything he might be able to interpret as criticism. He throws it right back at Holly, making it her fault, painting himself as the victim, sending Holly retreating with the force of his denial.
Their hors d’œuvres arrive. Holly looks miserably at her parsnip and apple soup – her appetite long since disappeared – and back at Marcus, who has now fished his buzzing BlackBerry out of his pocket and is punching an email into the phone.
‘So what do you want me to do?’ Marcus says, when he finishes his correspondence, placing the BlackBerry on the table next to his plate. ‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ Holly shrugs. ‘I wanted you to know how unhappy I am. I wanted you to care.’
‘I do care, Holly.’ His voice is gentle now, now that he no longer feels attacked. ‘Of course I care if you’re unhappy, but darling, I don’t think it’s anything to do with me. I have no idea why you’re so unhappy… Do you have your period?’
Holly shakes her head, resisting the urge to leap across the table and throttle him.
‘Maybe you should go to see a doctor,’ Marcus says gently. ‘It could be depression, and perhaps you could look at medication. I do understand you’re unhappy, but I also know it’s nothing to do with me.’
Holly shrugs again and goes back to playing with her food.
She tried, she thinks. At least she tried.
The phone shrills, waking Holly out of the most bizarre dream. She and Will are at the theatre. The actress on stage is supposed to be Saffron but in fact it is Olivia, and Holly keeps wondering why Olivia is on stage when she can’t act and why she and