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Back Walking on Sunshine Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. By the same author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. Three Months Later
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. 37
  43. Epilogue – Five Years Later
  44. Acknowledgements
  45. An extra note from me …
  46. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

I close my eyes and try to block it all out, but now all I can hear is the female chatter in front from Claire and Sammi, nattering away about someone they know who might, or might not, have put on a few pounds over winter.

Who gives a crap.

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20

Vicky

I find a spare seat on the bus, next to the mother with the teenage sons, and sigh as I lower myself into it. I’ve no idea what’s got into Zaza but there was no way I could sit there and take any more of her crap. I haven’t travelled across the world and away from my family to become someone else’s punch bag. At least Barnaby and Chloe are children who don’t know any better, a five-year-old who’s learning about boundaries and buttons, and a toddler who has no idea how her words and actions might affect others. Zaza is a fully grown woman who should know better than that. I’m so annoyed at her for transferring her foul mood over to me, especially after I’d already said I was missing the kids.

And why did she have to mention Nick? Why did she have to say anything about the women at work? Women that are able to give my husband their undivided attention, women who are able to hang on to his every word and converse with him as much as the job allows, and maybe a bit more over lunch and a glass of wine? Women who are able to enjoy him in a way that I haven’t been able to in years – as an individual who they’re not looking to for help with the bins, a bit of DIY or any chore around the house to make their own lives easier. Women who can just listen to him and find interest in all he says, hanging on his every word, rather than hoping he’d just shut up so that the telly can be watched and some downtime enjoyed. Women who would love to have him want them, rather than avoid any situation of intimacy.

I push him away so much. I know I do. Every time I rebuff one of his advances it hits me, the ways in which I have fallen short. There’s the guilt that I’ve failed him, the shame that I’m stopping us being together the way we used to be, the fear that I’m so changed and altered, and the dread that it’s one rejection too many.

It’s not just when I’m tired or stressed. It’s every time aside from a quick birthday or anniversary bonk.

There’s a block in me, and I’ve no idea how to fix it.