Every Breath You Take

Many thanks to vivacious for the great header.

Every Breath You Take

By

Police – 1983.

At long last, in the early months of 1983, Paul struggled onto his feet and began to walk, aged sixteen months. He’d obviously been in no hurry, but it made life easier on the whole, along with the added excitement of purchasing first shoes, although Paul much preferred his new red Wellingtons which I still have and plant flowers in every summer.

Moving house became a top priority that year, but as it seemed it would be a long process I decided life would be a lot easier if I could drive and started taking driving lessons. I didn’t venture far from home otherwise; mainly to see friends and attend the local Mother and Toddler group, where I befriended a lady named Beryl who cared for a nearby doctor’s children. Paul became a good friend of their eldest daughter Amy, who was the same age and of a similar nature to Paul. We visited each other quite frequently, helping to eliminate some of the previous feelings of isolation and loneliness.

With Paul being quite happy to spend time with David’s parents or my Mum it enabled me to take on a little relief work in teaching. This involved covering classes in any local school where a member of staff was absent. I can’t say as I enjoyed it; in fact at times it was quite nerve-wracking, but the extra bit of income helped us a lot.

My sister moved house to a traditional and potentially attractive property in need of some renovation and where she still lives today. It was always enjoyable paying a visit and watching the house become transformed into a lovely, family home.

Rachel, Nigel and Louise having fun in sister’s new garden.

In April, my ex-Headmaster announced his retirement and my family attended his leaving party. As usual I was asked to write a poetic tribute to him, which was well received and caused some laughter amongst the tears at witnessing the end of an era. This made my decision to leave the school after having Paul seem even more the correct choice. I’d loved working for him and would not have liked to face the adjustments and comparisons of working for a new boss while looking after a baby and family.

June 1983 would be the first of many visits to the Wimbledon Tennis Tournament for my Mum and sister. During the Easter holidays we spent a week in a friend’s caravan at Chapel-St-Leonards, another very popular resort on the east coast. My college friend Vivien and her husband, now with two small daughters, arrived midweek and we spent the first of what were to be very happy holidays together.

During the summer holidays David’s parents set off for a visit to Staffordshire to see relatives. On the second day we received a phone call to inform us David’s Dad had suffered a fatal heart attack. We were stunned, but David had to drive over to fetch his Mum while I looked after the children. The funeral was held on our third wedding anniversary in August. It saddens me that Paul cannot remember his paternal grandfather, as he adored Paul and they were developing a lovely relationship.

Paul with his grandpa, who he called ‘Gardy’ at the time.

We’d already booked a week’s self-catering holiday for the week after the funeral, so we felt obliged to go, although it was a rather sad and subdued vacation. It left a big gap in our family and made it more difficult for David’s Mum to visit as she didn’t drive.

In December I experienced my second brush with the green-eyed monster. The Mother and Toddler group I attended arranged a night out for all the Mums, which involved a coach trip and a restaurant meal. I cannot think of anything more innocent than a bunch of ladies with young children going out for an arranged meal, but sadly David didn’t see it that way. When I arrived home I was subjected to the same interrogation, anger and unreasonable behaviour I’d witnessed before on my return from France.

I look back now and question why I didn’t retaliate enough or lay down some ground rules regarding socialising with others, but I guess I was just too scared and attempting to smooth things over, made excuses for him. Admittedly his first marriage had ended after his wife committed adultery, but now I see that really was no justification to take it out on me. Now I realise it’s more a case of an innate jealous nature, insecurity and a deep rooted lack of trust.

Whether it was me, other people or the world in general he didn’t trust I now see as irrelevant. It would be a long time before I heard from many people and understood that without trust there can be no proper, loving relationship. I never gave him any reason to not trust me and it saddens me to think how much better my relationship with David might have been if he’d worked on controlling his illogical and destructive jealous streak. It seemed the lyrics to Sting’s number one hit that year may have been an omen.

Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you

Some things eventually go away if ignored, but I was to learn jealousy isn’t one of them.