Gemma Fox - The Cinderella Moment

He was still talking. ‘I thought that you’d understand. It seems obvious to me – we really have to look at it from Danny’s point of view, Cass. I think that it’s better if he doesn’t know I’m here. I really don’t want to upset him.’

Cass nearly choked. ‘Upset him? For Christ’s sake, David, you’ve already upset him. You walked out and left us, remember? There isn’t a day goes by when he doesn’t ask where you are, or when you’re coming home. He misses you like crazy. He wants to see you. I’m running out of excuses as to why you don’t want to see him. He adores you, David. You’re his daddy –’

‘You see, there you go again – everything a huge drama. You’re so demanding and difficult, there’s never any room for manoeuvre with you, is there, Cass? You always see the worst in people,’ David growled.

This was not the way Cass saw herself at all. She struggled to keep the sound of tears and hurt and anger out of her voice. ‘Why can’t you come round and see Danny? Tuck him in and read him a story, take him out for the day. You could go to the zoo or the beach – or just take the dog for a walk.’

David avoided meeting her eye. ‘Cass, you have to understand that things are a little difficult for me at the moment.’

Oh, Cass understood, all right. Having a six-year-old around calling you Daddy probably didn’t go hand in glove with David’s new teenage sexgod ethos.

‘I am very concerned about the way you’ve interpreted things, the way you look at life,’ David continued.

‘You don’t think,’ said Cass conversationally, ‘while we’re on the subject of personality traits, that the main problem here is not my doom-laden, overly pessimistic nature, but the fact that you ran off with Abby, by any chance, do you?’

David looked shocked, or at least made a good fist of trying to look shocked, and then shook his head. ‘Is that what you’ve told Danny?’

‘No, of course that’s not what I’ve told Danny. I told him that Mummy and Daddy loved him very much, but that we couldn’t live with each other any more because Daddy had got a new friend.’

‘Oh, Cass, there you go again – you have to be in the right, don’t you? You have to be the good one. And you always jump to the wrong conclusion.’ He managed to make it sound like the summing up in the case for the defence, not to mention everything being entirely her fault. ‘Let’s face it, Cass, this thing with Abby – surely you have to understand it’s a symptom of the problem between us, not the cause?’

‘And what do you think the cause is?’ she prompted.

David looked almost apologetic. ‘Well, we’ve already talked about your attitude –’

Cass felt his words stoking up the murderous rage that had been growing in her belly for the last fifteen minutes. ‘Have we? And what do you think about my attitude?’

‘Well, it’s hard to know where to begin, really. I’m very conscious of not wanting to hurt you – but, let’s face it, you’ve always had a very naïve take on life. I suppose it’s all your creative brainpower –’ He laughed in an unpleasantly patronising way. Thinking about it now, he sounded a lot like the policewoman.

‘Unworldly.’ His expression suggested he was being generous in his description. ‘You know, sometimes I felt that being with you was too big a responsibility, Cass.’

She stared at him, noting the past tense and wondering who the hell he had been living with for the last nine years? ‘And are you saying that Abby isn’t a big responsibility? Please don’t tell me she’s very mature for her age,’ Cass snarled. She saw he was about to speak and held up a hand to silence him. ‘What the fuck are you talking about, David? You’re making this up as you go along. It’s complete and utter rubbish. This is my house. When we first got together you couldn’t get a sofa on tick because your credit rating was so bad. I’ve always paid my way and sometimes yours. Even when Danny was a baby, I worked; I’ve sold stuff, I’ve taught…I don’t know how you dare accuse me of being unworldly. We’ve always got by.’

David nodded and rested his fingertips together as if passing sentence. ‘You see, that’s just it, isn’t it? Scraped through, managed, got by.’ He smiled indulgently, as if these were the worst words in the world. ‘The thing is, Cass, I don’t want to scrape by any more. It’s time to move on, but I don’t want you to feel bitter or unhappy about the past, pet. We’ve had a great time.’

‘Pet? A great time?’ she yelled. ‘We’re talking about a marriage here, David, not a day trip to a bloody theme park. Would you like to tell me what you came round for – aside from letting me know that everything is my fault – if you don’t want to see Danny?’

‘There’s no need to talk to me like that.’ David looked hurt. ‘And I’d be grateful if you kept your voice down. We don’t want to wake him up, do we? I’ve been to see my solicitor today.’

Cass’s eyes narrowed; she could sense a trap.

‘The thing is –’ he said quickly, before she could interrupt the flow – ‘I’ve got a lot of responsibilities and outgoings with the new business. I mean, we’re doing well – but…’ David hesitated. ‘It’s not been an easy year for the firm, one way and another, and I was wondering…well, you’ve got this house…’ He looked around thoughtfully, while Cass tried to work out exactly where the conversation was leading.

‘Your point being?’ she said.

‘Well, for one thing, I’ve come to discuss the idea of maintenance for Danny. I was thinking that maybe we could settle with a one-off payment rather than all this monthly malarkey. I was thinking something in the region of…what shall we say?’

Cass waited with bated breath.

‘I mean, presumably you will remarry at some time.’

‘David, you’ve been gone three months.’

‘Exactly. That’s what I’m saying – things move on, times change. How would you feel about, say, five thousand pounds?’ he said cheerily.

Cass stared at him, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. ‘What?’

‘Well, it seems fair. I mean, if we want to go with the letter of the law, legally I’d probably be entitled to half your house if I wanted to push it. But that would be mean, wouldn’t it?’

Mean ? Cass didn’t know what to say, or where to begin, or at least she didn’t trust herself to open her mouth. What a complete and utter bastard.

‘So what do you think?’ he pressed.

‘I think that you ought to leave.’

He smiled. ‘So you’ll consider my offer then?’

‘I had Abby’s parents round over the weekend,’ countered Cass, her tone icy cold.

David paled. ‘Ah, right. And how are they?’

‘What do you mean, How are they ? How do you think they are, David? They’re looking for someone to blame for why you ran off with their precious little girl.’

Cass paused, waiting for David to suggest that that, too, was her fault, but fortunately he just nodded. ‘You know, it’s sad really. They simply can’t see that the way they’ve treated her is at least half the problem. She is so, so complex – so fragile. It’s not easy. They’re not easy people to get on with, apparently. Abby has been telling me how they –’

‘David,’ Cass snapped, ‘they are perfectly reasonable people who are worried to death about their eighteen-year-old daughter running off with a man old enough to be her father.’

David flinched as if she had punched him. ‘Hardly old enough to be her father, Cass. Come on now, you have to admit that that’s a bit of an exaggeration.’ He ran a hand back over his thinning blond hair – which, it struck Cass, was several shades lighter than when he had left.