Invisible Read online

  2) Have an indoor picnic, with finger food and low lights and candles, in the lounge. Feed one another, then dance to his favourite Barry White CD, and our song: You’re My First, My Last, My Everything.

  3) Take him to a show (he’d probably hate that though, so more for me than him!)

  I wish he’d do something like this for me. I know it’s pathetic and needy, but I genuinely really do need something wonderful right now. Need a bit of magic. Feeling a bit low, actually.

  Still, Daryl’s going to start seeing a therapist and I’m really proud of him for that. But that’s for him, not me. If I’m honest I’m terrified he’ll turn around after a few sessions and say, ‘Thanks for standing by me and being there for me but actually I’ve realised our problems stem from the fact I don’t love you. That’s why I can’t commit properly to this marriage. That’s why I work all hours and am never around. That’s why I don’t want kids…with you.’

  I don’t want to be alone.

  Tues 12

  Daryl really genuinely is making the effort with me. He called me at work today, at 11.30am, and asked if I could nip out – because he was outside waiting for me! So we went to a café round the corner for half an hour. Very naughty!

  I was terrified I’d be caught and get a telling off from the boss, and it meant I was behind for the rest of the day, but I don’t care! I’ll put my headphones on tomorrow and ignore the world and get the report typed up double-quick. I always work better under pressure.

  Anyway, back to D. Yes, he is making an effort. He even called me tonight at 10pm, before he started work, just to say hello. Sweet. Mind you, when I asked him earlier when his appointment with the counsellor was he said it was ‘top of his list of priorities to sort’ today. And he didn’t mention it just now on the phone so I bet he hasn’t done it. That will be the real test of how much effort he’s making, whether he really does start seeing someone or if he was just agreeing to keep me happy…

  Change of subject! Kim sent me a text yesterday morning saying she and Sam had had a big row and he’d hit he. She has a black eye! Very dramatic and very worrying. She hasn’t told me what happened properly yet, but presumably she finished with him like she said she was going to, and it all kicked off.

  Well, at least a black eye should show her once and for all that he is to be steered well clear of, that there is no going back after something like that

  I’m sorry, but ever since she got together with runty Sam her life has been one drama after another. She’s a gorgeous, model-like 5ft 10in Asian woman who has the shiniest waist-length black hair like flipping Rapunzel. The problem is, she is a single mum to little Henry, a cheeky three-year-old who keeps her on her toes – and makes her convinced that as a single mum she will never be able to find a decent man who will take her on. So she puts up with Psycho Sam instead, who has mousey-coloured hair to go with his rat-like features, weak build and 5ft 9in stature. I’d like to say he’s got a nice personality, but no, he’s possessive and weird. It’s no surprise to me that such a wimp feels the need to ‘prove himself a real man’ by slapping his girlfriend around and belittling her. Pathetic!

  When I see her I’ll have to sit her down and have a proper good chat with her. Get the whole story, and talk some sense into her. To think, she says she worries about me and Daryl! Oh the irony! Not that I’m going to say anything to her like that, of course, because the fact is I’m dead worried for her. She needs to get out of that relationship before that nutter hurts her.

  At the moment though, the poor love is in hiding at home from what I can make out, because she has a black eye and is too ashamed to be seen in work. She’ll have to come back in eventually though, she can’t stay away until it fades altogether surely; that’ll be days and days and she just can’t afford to miss so much work.

  I’m tempted to call her. I keep staring at the phone as though somehow the useless lump of plastic will help me know what the right thing is to do. I’ve even picked it up a couple of times, stared at it a bit more, then put it down with a sigh.

  If I call her and Sam is there and answers it, will he guess I know what happened? Will I just make things worse for her? But what if she’s all alone and feeling like no one cares? I really don’t know what to do, but at the moment I’m opting for doing nothing. Interfering in people’s private lives is never a good idea, is it? Kim will come to me when she wants someone to talk to.

  Weds 13

  Daryl and I went for a walk along the beach today because I finished work early. It was perfect. We were looking at all the shells and Daryl found a beautiful little white rock, rubbed smooth by the sea, with a black, flint hole worn through the middle of it that shone.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ I smiled.

  ‘Not as beautiful as you. Nowhere near,’ he shrugged. ‘You’re my Gorgeous.’ Then he put his arm round me and we watched the sun setting over the waves. It was one of those rare, perfect times. I popped the rock in my pocket. I’ll remember that moment forever.

  That’s when it hit me, what I should give him for Valentine’s Day. I’ll give him the rock. It’s symbolic of that perfect moment we shared, of all the perfect moments we’ve shared, and the fact that he’s my rock.

  He’s the person I want to spend my life with, and I can always rely on him to be there for me. Maybe not immediately, because of his job, but when it comes down to it he’d drop everything and be there for me, I’m certain. If my life were in danger, like happens in films sometimes, the first person I’d call would be Daryl. There’s something so strong and capable about him, he’s so able to think outside the box and just is unlike other people. I know he’d take on the world without hesitation if someone tried to hurt me. He’s a very physical man; yes he lacks a bit of the emotional expression sometimes, but he’s my rock, unchanging, reliable, beautiful in his hardness. I feel really pleased by the idea.

  Thurs 14

  I gave him a rock. ‘Because you’re my rock,’ I explained to him. He looked down at the stone with the hole in it, the one we’d picked up together on the beach, and his face was totally blank. He didn’t get it. It meant nothing to him. And I felt like a total prat.

  I gave him a rock. What the hell was I thinking?

  Fri 15

  Keep thinking about Kim. I wonder how she’s doing?

  I haven’t heard from Daryl today. Very paranoid he’ll let me down. Don’t know what is wrong with me, am very emotional. Cried on train to work this morning, cried in the loos at work…am crying all the time, at the drop of a hat, in fact. Also very changeable. For a second I wondered if it was crazy hormones, and got so excited because I thought I might be pregnant. Then I got nervous at the idea of it actually being real, and was kind of relieved when I realised I couldn’t possibly be pregnant.

  It got me thinking though. How would Daryl actually feel if I were expecting? I mean, if an ‘accident’ were to happen? Maybe I should just plan an accident…? But the thought makes me feel panicky and tight in the chest, like I’m being constricted. It feels…wrong.

  The thing is I do desperately want a child but Daryl needs to be around more otherwise I might as well be a single mother. Raising a child is hard work and if he’s still away trucking all the time then I don’t think I can cope. I want a family not just a child – baby, mum and dad, all together, not just with dad popping in occasionally when he feels like it, enjoying all the good bits.

  Sometimes he does agree to trying but within hours he is denying it, or moving the goalposts. ‘In two years’ is his favourite thing. ‘We’ll try in two years,’ he says. But he’s been saying that for the last six years, and yet somehow the right time still hasn’t arrived. I’m like little orphan bloody Annie, singing about how ‘tomorrow is always a day away’.

  Besides, there’s a slightly cynical bit of me that suspects Daryl when he decides he wants me to have a kid. I feel like he suggests it to shut me up and maybe to control me a bit more. It’s terrible of me to think like that, isn’t i
t. Truly, if I think he’s capable of such manipulation then why on earth am I with him? No, he couldn’t do such an awful thing.

  He can be so changeable though. Sometimes I feel like I’m riding a rollercoaster, our relationship is that same mix of euphoria and terror and out-of-control feeling and everything is just rushing towards me but it’s too quick for me to react, to take it in or understand it, it’s just an emotional blur and only when I get off at some point, with shaky legs and hammering heart, will I be able to stand back and look at it for what it is. And think ‘wow, I survived that!’ and laugh because it’s brilliant and fun, and a bit scary. And want to do it again.

  I mean, just look at the last month. I’ve been reading back some of the stuff I’ve written (so glad I started keeping this diary!) and I’m all over the place. Bored, wanting to finish things, paranoid that Daryl is manipulating me – then desperate for a baby, head over heels in love.

  He’s right, the problem is me not him.

  But life with him can be…not scary, but definitely…unpredictable and heart-racing. He’s always either one extreme or the other, there is no halfway with him. Of course that’s also what attracts me to him, I suppose. He does have an air of danger about him, but he also has the biggest, loudest laugh and a grin that just transforms his sometimes stern-looking face. I mean, he actually throws his head back with laughter; how many people do that?

  When I try to describe him to people he sounds like a caricature almost. He’s too large for life. His laugh too big, his smile too wide, his temper too huge. How can I best explain it to someone who doesn’t know him? Well, there is one way of illustrating it…

  After heavy rain, we love to go for a walk. There’s something exhilarating about the heavy, tinny, soil smell that hangs in the air, the charge of electricity that seems to stay there and freshen everything up. As we walk, Daryl will stop and pick up wriggling earthworms which have strayed onto the pavement.

  ‘They’ll get squashed by people,’ he explains. He carefully handles them, like they are the most precious cargo in the world, and places them onto a nearby grass verge.

  Our walks always take forever after a rainstorm, but I never mind because seeing this strapping, muscular man with massive hands delicately saving worms is one of the most heart-melting sights in the world to me. Imagine that.

  Then imagine the day I heard a meow in the house. I’d thought I was going mad as I’d looked around, because there wasn’t any sign of a cat. Then it had come again, sounding really muffled, and I’d slowly realised it seemed to be coming from the cupboard under the stairs.

  The poor thing must have sneaked into the house when I’d left the front door open while I was backwards and forwards washing the car, I’d thought in horror, and got trapped somehow in the cupboard. So I’d opened it up expecting to find a hungry, thirsty and possibly very annoyed cat. But I couldn’t see one anywhere.

  When I’d heard the meow again I’d frozen because…there was one of those free rucksacks you get on magazines and stuff sometimes, you know, the really light, thin ones…and it had just moved.

  For a second, maybe even longer to be honest, I’d just stood there, stock still, thinking: ‘It’s moving, and the meow is coming from there, which means there’s a cat in there. But there can’t be a cat in there, how could there be a cat in there? I mean, how the bloody hell would it manage to not only sneak into the house and get trapped in the cupboard, but also clamber for some unknown reason into a bag – and then pulled the drawstring tight behind it so that it couldn’t get out. Oh, and tie a knot in that drawstring too.’

  Like someone had cut the strings holding me in place, I’d moved suddenly. Leapt forward, shaky fingers undoing the knot, pulling the bag open, and lifting a terrified moggy free of its prison.

  Then Daryl’s voice had sounded behind me. ‘That’ll teach the little shit to come in here again,’ he’d said. Then he’d laughed. Well, chuckled. Which in a way is more sinister, because a chuckle is so kind of little and light-hearted, isn’t it; more sort of innocent.

  And you know how sometimes people say they felt like their blood froze in their veins? Well, I reckon mine did too. I went shivery cold from head to toe, actually got goosebumps all over. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, because I was terrified. Terrified of my fella. The man I share a bed with, tell my secrets to, have vowed to stay with until the day I die.

  Even remembering that day makes me feel cold. But then I remember the earthworms and realise that I was just being silly. I’ve got an overactive imagination; Mum’s always said so. But see what I mean about Daryl? Two extremes, never a middle ground. Roaring with laughter, roaring with rage. Supportive, cutting. Cruel, kind.

  There have been so many ups and downs between us lately that it’ll do me good to get away and have a good think. I’m meant to be going to Salzburg a week today with Amy and Hannah, but although I’ve booked the ticket I’m not convinced it will happen. I thought it would be a laugh but now Hannah has dropped out with some muttered, crappy excuse so it’ll just be me and Amy.

  I get the feeling Han and Amy are peed off with me for some reason. Don’t have the faintest idea why. I always used to get invited to stuff with them and now I don’t. Every time I arrange to see Han she cancels on me at the last minute. Amy has been distinctly cool of late too. Think will email Han tomorrow and have it out. Let’s face it, what do I have to lose? Reckon I’ve already lost their friendship.

  Wonder if Daryl will come home tomorrow, or even bother calling me. He said he’d call today, but I was in a very weird mood last night and probably scared him off! Fancy getting so upset that he didn’t like a silly stone. Reacting like it was the end of the world because he didn’t understand my stupid, schmaltzy, over-the-top sentiments.

  And now, because I got in a mood, I’ve probably hurt his feelings. The poor bloke can’t know what on earth is going on. I mean, he bought me six red roses and a box of chocs, how sweet is that? And I still wasn’t satisfied! Though the card was a bit of a disappointment, but it’s Daryl’s sense of humour, he loves a smutty joke and is a very physical man. Bit obsessed with sex actually (though all talk and little action these days)….

  Yes, he could have been more romantic, but what the hell am I complaining about when he bought me presents that most women can only dream of? It doesn’t get more romantic than flowers and chocs!

  Oh, I’m being silly wondering if he’s coming home tomorrow. He has to because we’re seeing Zoe and Rick from the Florida holiday tomorrow. Might be fun. That holiday last year was such a laugh, it’ll be good for me and him to have a night out together and relive a bit of it. Might help us reconnect, meeting up with the old crowd. You know what it’s like on holiday, people always have good intentions of staying in touch, but looks like we really meant it, us Florida lot!

  Sat 16

  Wonderful. So far today I’ve been blown out by Daryl, who couldn’t come home because he got a last minute job (he was actually really apologetic, so I’m not mad with him). Then by Amy, who told me she’s not going to Salzburg for various pathetic reasons. She got the wrong weekend and has arranged to see her mum, she’s skint, tra la la. Rubbish. There’s something else going on here, I’m not stupid. I just wish I knew what the hell it was.

  Then I decided to have a word with Han (well, an email). I’d spoken to Kim about it and she agreed that it was the right plan of action. So I asked if I’d offended Hannah in some way because she seems weird and stuff, and things aren’t right between us. To be honest, I felt like a kid in the playground again, a grown woman should not have to have a conversation like this! Still…

  She replied she could ask me the same thing because I’ve been weird with her! Well maybe I have but only because she started it. Not that I could say that of course, because that would sound really childish in this already regressive situation.

  After a bit of to-ing and fro-ing we seemed to thaw things out and ended with saying stuff like ‘it’s great to ha
ve you back because I’ve missed you’ and all that silliness. Well, I say it’s silliness but actually I do have to admit to having a bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling afterwards, am so relieved things are sorted. And yet… I still get the funny feeling things aren’t right.

  Anyway. When Amy let me down I sent Daryl a text telling him and asking if he fancied an impromptu dirty weekend in Salzburg. I mean, how are we meant to even consider trying for a baby when we barely see each other and when we do we hardly ever have sex. Not that I sent that bit to him, of course.

  As soon as I sent the text, my phone rang. ‘Hey Gorgeous, this sounds like a great idea!’ said Daryl. He sounded so up for it – brilliant! He’d got me on speakerphone because he was driving, but even over the engine noise, I could tell he really meant it, and was in a fantastic mood.

  ‘Wonderful! Well the seats are all booked and paid for so it seems a shame for them to go to waste,’ I smiled. ‘Finally I’m starting to look forward to this weekend! I’ll have to revise my whole getaway wardrobe now that it isn’t a girlie break…’

  ‘Well don’t get too excited,’ he warned. ‘I’ll have to check the roster first, see if I can get the time off.’ I could hear a shuffling noise as he opened and closed compartments, searching for the elusive piece of paper he had his jobs jotted down on. It’s a flipping mystery that bit of paper, by the way – I can never catch so much of a glimpse of it, and it seems to change at the drop of a hat…well, unless I actually want it to change, then it seems even more set in stone than the Ten Commandments.

  The rustling and thumping continued, and I started to get really excited. ‘Hey, keep your eyes on the road,’ I teased. He seemed in a good enough mood that I could risk teasing him a little.

  As he grunted a reply and carried on searching, I started compiling a list in my head of things I needed to take. I’d have to include some sexy undies – maybe I should nip out and buy some new stuff, surprise Daryl. Something lacy and black and red and obvious? No, not Daryl’s thing; he absolutely loves virginal white underwear. He doesn’t like tarty stuff at all, even though he is always trying to peer down my top!