Change of Life by Anne Stormont

Rosie with a soft‘s’ - like the ‘c’ in Lucy - “independence is all very well, but it can be very lonely. And I had no choice, not with my dear ex. Thank your lucky stars, Tom’s not like Gary.”
    I looked at Kirsty and shrugged. I conceded that she probably knew what she was talking about. Kirsty divorced her husband, years before when their only child, Eilidh, was still very young.
    “I don’t know what to believe, Kirsty. But I know that if Tom finds out about me being ill, he’ll leap into action – telling me which doctor to see, which hospital to go to and which treatment to have.”
    “Would that be so bad?” Kirsty asked gently.
    “Yes, it would, actually. Don’t you remember what it was like when I had the depression – after the twins were born? He had me admitted to that awful place.”
    “Of course I remember. He didn’t do it lightly, Rosie. And of course a psychiatric hospital is no picnic-”
    “I hated it there! I hated the way the drugs made me feel, but Tom kept telling me they would make me well.”
    “And he was right – you did get better.” Kirsty still spoke gently, but as always she wasn’t letting me get away with any display of self-pity or unfairness.
    I couldn’t help smiling. She was a brilliant devil’s advocate.
    “Yes, in the end, the medication did help,” I said. “And so did having access to that counsellor. She was good – I admit.”
    “Well then – perhaps you should trust Tom again…”
    “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I hadn’t realised till now - I’ve never really got over the feeling of powerlessness I experienced then.”
    And I didn’t say so to Kirsty but I’d also just realised how much I blamed Tom. “Oh, I know I sound like a spoilt brat,” I continued. “But this is my illness, my body and I want to be in charge for a change.”
    “Okay, okay!” Kirsty smiled. “I’ll support you whatever. I’ll help in any way I can. Come here.” She came round the desk and we stood and hugged each other. “But I still think you need to talk to Tom,” she said as she stood back. “Now, as for school – how do you want to play it?”
    “I’d like to start my sick leave right away. I don’t think I can do the job justice at the moment. But I’d like to say cheerio to the kids, give them some kind of explanation.”
    “Of course, do you want to do that today – you could go in after lunch. I’ll ask the supply teacher to give you a bit of time alone with them.”
    “Yes please. I’d like that.”
    “And the rest of the staff, what do you want me to tell them?”
    “For now, could you just say I’ve got leave of absence for personal reasons and I’ll be back some time after the summer holidays. I’ll tell you when I’m ready for everyone to know, I promise. I know I can’t keep it secret in the long term. But I want to tell the children and – yes – Tom, when I’m ready. I don’t want to be rushed and I want them to hear it from me.
    “All right, if that’s what you want. I’ll be discreet.” Then the bell rang and Kirsty gave me another hug. “I’ll go and see your supply teacher and tell her to wait ten minutes before coming along to the class. You go and say your goodbyes.”
    So I went along and surprised Primary Three with my presence. I settled them on the carpet and told them that I was starting my summer holidays early. I said I had an awful lot of stuff to sort out at home, and that Miss Mackinnon had kindly said I could have some extra time off. I told them they’d have another teacher for a while, and that I’d see them when they were big Primary Fours. They seemed genuinely sad that I was going and I struggled not to cry in front of them. But I knew that, for now, I couldn’t give them the attention they deserved. I needed to go and get my life sorted out.
    When I arrived home in the early afternoon there was still no sign of Adam. Toby made it known that he needed to go out, so I set off down to