stiffened against him, he continued speaking and stroking her hair. “What about how hard it could get if you were alone with a small baby for prolonged periods of time? You know I could get posted overseas again. How would you cope then?”
Shrugging away from his hand and uncurling from the settee, she said, “Come through to the kitchen, dinner’s ready.”
Crane followed her in silence, knowing better than to pursue his line of thinking until she’d spoken again and sat down on his side of the table. As she placed his plate in front of him, Tina said, “Lots of people cope with that, look at all the army wives with kids.”
“Okay, but there’s one big difference.” Crane shook salt on his food.
“What’s that? Are they better mothers than I would be?” She stabbed at the meat on her plate with her fork.
“No, they live on the garrison. That way they have a support network.”
Tina fell silent. That was her worst fear, he knew. Living on the garrison. She was proud of the fact that they managed to buy their own home, courtesy of his increasing rank and her job at the bank.
They ate in silence, Crane finding it harder and harder to swallow each mouthful, as his stomach tightened. Her carefully prepared meal mocked him. Were those tears he saw glistening in her eyes, or just the reflected candlelight? He had no difficulty with awkward conversations at work, yet when it came to his wife he always seemed to put his foot in it. Realising it was because of the emotionally charged subject matter, he decided to change tack. Placing his knife and fork in the middle of his plate he said, “Okay, Tina, let’s look at the facts.” Ignoring her rolling eyes, he pushed on. “Go and get the budget forecast you’ve prepared. Go on, let’s look at this properly,” he urged.
Whilst Tina was getting the paperwork from their bedroom-come-office, he cleared the table of their half eaten food, as he for one wasn’t able to eat another mouthful. His clenched stomach still not relaxed. He also took the opportunity to refill their glasses and dowse the candles, putting on the overhead light so they could read more easily.
They spread the budget sheets across the table and sat side by side to examine them.
“See, I get good maternity pay,” said Tina, running her finger down the income column.
“Mmm,” Crane agreed, “but what about this column?” His finger was placed on the expenditure column, where the figures gradually increased to take into account of the extra costs incurred with a baby in the house. “As the outgoings increase, the income decreases – see? Once your maternity pay stops there’s only my salary left.”
“Well, it does get a bit tight, I suppose.”
“Tight doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Look, I’ve spent hours going over these figures, Tom.” Tina crossed her arms and sat up straight. “The other alternative is that I go back to work after maternity leave and put the baby in a nursery.
“And how much is that going to cost? Most of your salary probably.”
“So what’s your solution then?”
“The only way I can see it working, is that we either sell up, or rent out this house to cover the mortgage and move back onto the garrison. That way we at least halve our outgoings. You know how much cheaper it is to rent an army quarter.”
“No!” As Tina stood, her chair rocked and then tipped over.
Ignoring the interruption, Crane continued, “You’d also have the support network, other wives, welfare, crèche….”
“But,” Tina tried again, flustered now as she straightened the chair.
“And you won’t be so isolated when I’m away.” Crane wouldn’t stop. “I won’t need to worry about you so much, knowing you’ll be safe within the army machine.”
“I can’t do it,” Tina protested, finally getting the chair in front of the table again and sitting on it. “I’d go mad.” She gulped at her wine. “Remember how much I hated living on the
Shrugging away from his hand and uncurling from the settee, she said, “Come through to the kitchen, dinner’s ready.”
Crane followed her in silence, knowing better than to pursue his line of thinking until she’d spoken again and sat down on his side of the table. As she placed his plate in front of him, Tina said, “Lots of people cope with that, look at all the army wives with kids.”
“Okay, but there’s one big difference.” Crane shook salt on his food.
“What’s that? Are they better mothers than I would be?” She stabbed at the meat on her plate with her fork.
“No, they live on the garrison. That way they have a support network.”
Tina fell silent. That was her worst fear, he knew. Living on the garrison. She was proud of the fact that they managed to buy their own home, courtesy of his increasing rank and her job at the bank.
They ate in silence, Crane finding it harder and harder to swallow each mouthful, as his stomach tightened. Her carefully prepared meal mocked him. Were those tears he saw glistening in her eyes, or just the reflected candlelight? He had no difficulty with awkward conversations at work, yet when it came to his wife he always seemed to put his foot in it. Realising it was because of the emotionally charged subject matter, he decided to change tack. Placing his knife and fork in the middle of his plate he said, “Okay, Tina, let’s look at the facts.” Ignoring her rolling eyes, he pushed on. “Go and get the budget forecast you’ve prepared. Go on, let’s look at this properly,” he urged.
Whilst Tina was getting the paperwork from their bedroom-come-office, he cleared the table of their half eaten food, as he for one wasn’t able to eat another mouthful. His clenched stomach still not relaxed. He also took the opportunity to refill their glasses and dowse the candles, putting on the overhead light so they could read more easily.
They spread the budget sheets across the table and sat side by side to examine them.
“See, I get good maternity pay,” said Tina, running her finger down the income column.
“Mmm,” Crane agreed, “but what about this column?” His finger was placed on the expenditure column, where the figures gradually increased to take into account of the extra costs incurred with a baby in the house. “As the outgoings increase, the income decreases – see? Once your maternity pay stops there’s only my salary left.”
“Well, it does get a bit tight, I suppose.”
“Tight doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Look, I’ve spent hours going over these figures, Tom.” Tina crossed her arms and sat up straight. “The other alternative is that I go back to work after maternity leave and put the baby in a nursery.
“And how much is that going to cost? Most of your salary probably.”
“So what’s your solution then?”
“The only way I can see it working, is that we either sell up, or rent out this house to cover the mortgage and move back onto the garrison. That way we at least halve our outgoings. You know how much cheaper it is to rent an army quarter.”
“No!” As Tina stood, her chair rocked and then tipped over.
Ignoring the interruption, Crane continued, “You’d also have the support network, other wives, welfare, crèche….”
“But,” Tina tried again, flustered now as she straightened the chair.
“And you won’t be so isolated when I’m away.” Crane wouldn’t stop. “I won’t need to worry about you so much, knowing you’ll be safe within the army machine.”
“I can’t do it,” Tina protested, finally getting the chair in front of the table again and sitting on it. “I’d go mad.” She gulped at her wine. “Remember how much I hated living on the
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