The Forgotten Wife

by Emma Robinson

  Shelley laughed. ‘Yeah, I reckon I do. Plenty of good memories. But a lot of these other ones can go.’

  Lara held up another case between her finger and thumb as if it was something unpleasant. ‘Like this one? Hear’Say? What were you thinking?’

  Shelley pulled a face. ‘Actually, I think my dad sent me that one. I don’t think he had a clue what to get me. My parents divorced when I was pretty young and I didn’t see him much. I usually got a birthday gift about three months late if I got one at all. I have no idea why I kept it, though.’

  Lara held it over the black plastic bag destined for the charity shop. ‘Oxfam?’

  Shelley gave her a thumbs up. ‘Oxfam.’

  Lara’s phone rang. It was Matt. He’d been held up by a tanker spill on the M1 and was probably calling to update her. ‘Sorry, need to quickly speak to him.’

  ‘No worries, I’ll pop to the toilet while you’re talking.’

  Lara swiped to connect the call. ‘Hi, honey.’

  ‘Hey, beautiful. Traffic has started moving again so I should be home in a couple of hours. Sorry you’ve been on your own again all evening.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m fine. Actually, I’m next door with Shelley.’

  There was a pause. ‘You said you were going to watch a film?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I couldn’t settle to it in the end. Thought I’d continue with my mission.’ He had been teasing her about it again last night. Asking if she was going to start a tidying cult and recruit all the neighbours.

  She could almost hear him frown at his handsfree speaker. ‘You’re not carrying boxes around, are you?’

  Lara sighed. ‘No. Just sorting through CDs. I think they only weigh a few grams, so I should be fine.’

  He sighed at the other end. ‘Lara. You don’t need to be sarcastic. I just—’

  ‘I know. I know. You’re just looking out for me. But I’m not an idiot, Matt. And I’m going nuts in there on my own.’

  ‘It’s just another three months, Lar.’

  He didn’t need to tell her how long it was. She knew how long she had left in days. Shelley reappeared. Time to get Matt off the phone so that they could go back to laughing about dubious music choices. ‘I need to go, Matt. I’m fine, okay? Drive safely and I’ll see you later.’

  ‘Hold on, before you go. I found a group you might like. My client recommended it – the one I get the tea from. It’s not therapy, exactly, it’s more—’

  Not this again. ‘Matt, please. Enough with the self-help groups. I need to go. I’ll speak to you when you get home. Bye.’

  She clicked off the phone and put it behind her.

  Shelley tilted her head. ‘Everything okay?’

  If she only knew. ‘Yeah, he was just checking in. Fourth time today. He was out early and woke me which makes him feel bad; he knows I can’t get back to sleep once I’m awake. My head starts buzzing and I’m better off getting up.’

  Shelley nodded. ‘Thinking about the baby?’

  Lara scrutinised one of the cases then put it back on the pile. ‘Yes. Mostly. Or just random stuff.’ How could she explain what it was like to wake up early with your mind at full throttle? Your heart racing as if you were late for something or you’d forgotten to do something vital?

  ‘I suppose at least you can take a nap in the afternoon if you need one. Not having to go to work, I mean.’

  Lara began piling up some of the cases. Not having anywhere to go made it worse but she didn’t want to get into that. ‘Yeah, that’s what Matt says. He thinks I’m better off at home and that everything can be solved with a nice lie-down.’

  Shelley looked as if she was about to say something and then changed her mind. She picked up a couple of love ballad compilations, pulled a face and chucked them into the Oxfam bag. ‘He works long hours, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, the nature of the job, unfortunately. He’s a medical sales rep – drives halfway round the country most days. I’ve already told him he needs to make sure that he can’t go more than twenty miles away when I get near my due date.’

  ‘That explains why you don’t mind helping me sort out all my old crap. It must get a bit boring for you some days. Do you miss your job?’

  So much more than she could have anticipated. School, college, university, work: Lara had always had a sharp brain, enjoyed learning and analysing and having to work out solutions. Now the only decision she had to make was what to cook for dinner, and at the weekends, Matt would even do that. ‘Yes, I really do. You don’t have time for dark thoughts when you’re rushed off your feet at work. I loved it too – the cases, the research, the people. I’m going crackers next door some days. Thank goodness for you and your junk, eh?’

  Dammit. She shouldn’t have said dark thoughts. Now Shelley was frowning at her and was going to ask her what she meant. After her trying to press Shelley about her ex-husband, she would only have herself to blame if Shelley started to ask questions about Lara’s business. But she didn’t. ‘We aim to please!’

  She’d dodged a bullet there. It was bad enough having Matt watching her like a hawk. When he got home tonight, he would slowly and tactfully bring up the subject of this group he’d found for her to attend. Why wouldn’t he get it that this wasn’t what she wanted? Sitting around in a circle listening to other people’s misery would only make her feel worse. Or even more guilty that their problems were worse than hers. Sorting through Shelley’s stuff was better therapy than that. ‘What about your job? What’s happening there?’

  Shelley shrugged. ‘The company is definitely being sold. I need to decide if I am going to apply for a job with the new owner.’

  This was a safe subject. ‘Don’t you want to?’

  Shelley sighed. ‘To be honest, I don’t want to think about it.’

  Her face also made it obvious that she didn’t want to talk about it. For a few moments, the only noise in the room was the clattering of plastic as Lara rummaged through the rest of the pile, wanting to get back to the lighter atmosphere before Matt had called. Say something funny. ‘Do you seriously have every single copy of Now That’s What I Call Music! that was ever released?’

  Shelley laughed. ‘I obviously shouldn’t have been allowed loose in HMV. I’m just not generally a music person. I mean, I like listening to music but I’ve never been someone who goes to gigs or talks about the latest albums. Greg really knew his stuff. He played guitar a bit when he was at school and college. Listened to all the cool bands. Radiohead and Portishead and all the other heads probably. When he explained it all to me, I got into it too and then I stopped listening to the pop stuff.’

  ‘Radiohead and Portishead? Crikey, that sounds a bit dreary. Did he wear black a lot too?’ Lara pulled her fringe down over her left eye, emo-style.

  Shelley laughed again; they were back on track. ‘No. He was more of a designer label man. It was just the music he liked. He was the one who bought me my favourite album of all time.’

  Lara was sorting the plethora of Now That’s What I Call Music! albums into numerical order. ‘Really? What was that?’

  12

  Shelley

  Before

  Music stores were like the third circle of hell. Men of various ages shuffling around, flicking at CD cases, plucking one from the rack and studying it before replacing it and continuing on and on and on. This one had a vague smell of greasy hair and dust. It was for serious music-lovers only. And their bored partners. And, God, she was bored.

  To be fair, she only had herself to blame. Without once complaining, Greg had followed her around twenty shops looking for a gift for her mother, so she owed it to him to wait it out as he scoured the shelves for obscure releases by Tim Buckley and Leonard Cohen. But, seriously, how long did it take?

  Ten almost unbearable minutes had given way to another ten in which the click-clacking of plastic cases made her want to scream for freedom. ‘They need chairs for bored girlfriends in this place. With maybe some magazines to read.’ />
  ‘Hmmm?’ Greg looked up, his eyes blurred. He was lost somewhere in music land. ‘Have you had enough?’

  She felt bad then; he hadn’t murmured when she’d read the contents of every single ‘Mum’ card in Clintons. ‘No, it’s fine. I’m joking.’

  Another five minutes passed. Click-clack. Shuffle shuffle. ‘I mean, if they had an area for girlfriends to sit, they might keep the boyfriends in here longer and then they might sell more.’

  He laughed at her, knowing she wouldn’t say something that sexist and really mean it. ‘Why don’t you look for something. I’ll buy it for you. What music do you like?’

  She hated this question. She knew she was supposed to say someone cool like The Cure or The Smiths but the truth was she liked pop music. How could she say that to Greg though? He would think her an idiot if she told him that her favourite album at the moment was *NSYNC’s Celebrity. They’d been dating for a few months, but there was still the risk that he would realise she was actually dull and clueless. What could she say? ‘Actually, I like lots of different stuff.’

  Damn, he looked genuinely interested. His fingers didn’t leave their place on the CDs, but he put his head to one side and gave her his full attention. ‘Okay. Like who?’

  Her mind went completely blank. She didn’t want to look stupid, not when things had been going so well between them. Although they were only six years apart in age, that felt like a lot of experience she needed to catch up on. Best to play it safe. ‘Actually, I have a lot of compilation albums.’

  He shuddered. ‘Compilation albums? They are for people with absolutely no taste in music. The type of thing your nan buys you for Christmas. You need to find a band you like, or a singer. Wait a minute, I know what you might like.’ He moved up to the ‘K’ section and started to thumb through before plucking one out and waving it at her. ‘Here you go!’

  He passed her a CD featuring a cool-looking woman in a bright green hat. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘Alicia Keys. You must have heard her single? “Fallin’”? It’s been played relentlessly. You’ll love the album. It’s brilliant. Why don’t you come over to mine later? We can play the CD on my new stereo and you can hear how fantastic it is.’

  She turned the CD case over and read the tracklist. Normally, she wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to spend the evening with Greg but there was a small problem. ‘I’m supposed to be seeing Dee later.’

  Greg went back to flicking through the CD cases. ‘I would say we can all do something together but I don’t think she’d be keen on me hanging around. I think she’s cross with me.’

  Shelley felt uneasy. She’d begun to suspect the same thing. ‘What makes you think that?’

  Greg shrugged; he didn’t look hugely bothered. ‘Because I’m monopolising you. I think she feels left out.’

  Shelley got that familiar fluttering feeling in her stomach. Confrontation made her uneasy. ‘That’s silly. She’s my best friend. You’re my boyfriend.’ She still got a thrill saying that word. ‘It’s two different things.’

  Greg picked up another CD: Edie Brickell. ‘You might like this one too – it’s an old one but she’s got a great voice.’ He passed it to her. ‘I think I’m on Dee’s list.’

  Dee used to say people were ‘on her list’ if they were annoying her or had done something to upset her. Greg’s mocking tone made Shelley regret telling him about it.

  Shelley felt torn. It was horrible having to choose between the two of them. Dee was her best friend – they’d done everything together for the last seven years, including the trip around Europe. During that month they had become even closer, and Shelley wouldn’t have got through her homesickness and fears about new places if she hadn’t had Dee there to take her hand and pull her along. Sometimes literally.

  Up until now, Dee had always been the one with the boyfriends. Outgoing, pretty and fun to be around, she was a magnet for boys. Shelley always ended up being the one chatting to Dee’s boyfriend’s creepy mate; there was always a creepy mate. Dee never left her out but it was uncomfortable being her accessory sometimes.

  This time it was her turn. She was really falling for Greg and it seemed like he felt the same. After Dee had gotten over her initial annoyance, she had been all right about their relationship, but the more Shelley saw of Greg, the more irritated Dee got. Now she would sigh dramatically every time Shelley even mentioned his name. ‘That’s all you ever go on about these days,’ she’d said last night. ‘Greg this and Greg that. I’m bored of how great you think he is.’

  Shelley was hurt. She hadn’t said she was bored when all Dee had wanted to do was lie on her bed crying because Pete Murphy had a new girlfriend. Or when she’d had to trail around the fair with Lanky Lewis because Dee fancied his best friend Lucas. Wasn’t it fair to expect that Dee might give her the same support?

  She flipped over the Edie Brickell CD to read the tracklist: ‘What I Am’. What was she? A good best friend or a good girlfriend? And why wasn’t it possible to be both?

  ‘I’ll call Dee and see what she has planned for tonight. Maybe she’ll want to rearrange.’

  ‘It’s up to you. Let me buy these two CDs for you anyway. If we don’t get to listen to them tonight, you can take them home and we can listen to them together another time. Whatever you want. Or you can listen to them with Dee, give her a bit of a musical education instead of those boy bands she still listens to.’

  Shelley laughed and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that she hadn’t mentioned *NSYNC. She would call Dee and invite her over to Greg’s flat to listen to these new albums. If the three of them spent some time hanging out together, it wouldn’t be so weird. Or maybe she should encourage Dee and Greg to spend some time together without her there to play referee?

  13

  Lara

  Some friendships are short, only lasting while you have circumstances in common. Maybe you were colleagues or neighbours or had kids of the same age. Other friendships last longer – you make a real connection, meet up just the two of you for the odd coffee or lunch until you slip out of the habit and, before you know it, you only ever chat via posts on social media. But there are some friends who are there for the long haul. Ups and downs, celebrations and commiserations, weddings, births, relationship breakdowns, house moves, career changes: whatever life throws up at you, the friend is there. Those friends are more precious than gold.

  When Shelley had talked about Dee – recounting how they’d grown up together, been travelling together – Lara had got the impression of a real closeness. Shelley was an only child and she’d mentioned a couple of times how quiet it had been at home, just her and her mum. When she’d recalled a story about Dee and the things she’d said and done, her face had lit up at the memory. Never once had she explained why Dee wasn’t in her life, and Lara hadn’t felt as if she could ask.

  Maybe there was no big story. People just drifted apart sometimes, didn’t they? Life got busy. You made plans and had to cancel. Didn’t get around to rearranging and then, before you knew it, six months had gone past and you hadn’t seen each other. Like her and Natalie.

  Six months. That’s how long Natalie said it had been in her text this morning.

  Hey, stranger. It’s been six months! When can I see you? How’s the new house?

  Why had the message filled her with fear?

  Matt had urged her to answer, make an arrangement. ‘Ask her over tomorrow tonight. A Friday Girls’ Night; like the old days. It’ll do you good.’

  She’d just turned over in bed. She was getting fed up with him telling her what would do her good.

  Now she stood in the kitchen with a cup of tea and stared at the message again. They’d met at work. With a similar sense of humour, it hadn’t been long before she and Natalie had started to take their lunch hour together, then a glass of wine after work, then meeting up on a Friday or Saturday night – sometimes with the husbands too. When Natalie had left to have a baby, they’d stayed in touch, and
Lara and Matt had been to hers and Chris’s for a takeaway, taking gifts for their baby girl and making all the right noises about how cute she was.

  Natalie had returned to work part-time a year later and they’d resumed their lunch dates. She wasn’t one of those women who constantly shoved pictures of their child under your nose. She was great, she really was. But things had changed. And then she’d got pregnant again. This time around, Lara hadn’t been to visit during her maternity leave.

  Lara knew that the problem was with her, not Natalie. Natalie was her friend. She was fun and caring and supportive. It didn’t matter that their circumstances were different. She should just pick up her phone right now and make an arrangement to see her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have the time, was it?

  But she couldn’t do it. Just as she couldn’t text Louise or Kerry or Theresa or any of the other friends she’d avoided for the last six months or longer. She could make all the excuses she wanted about being busy or focusing on the pregnancy or feeling tired, but that wasn’t the reason. They had been her friends over one of the worst periods of her life. They knew everything that had happened and would want to support her and reassure her and encourage her to talk about how she was feeling. She couldn’t face that. Not yet. Not until she knew how this was all going to work out.

  Ignoring the message would just be rude, though. She typed a response with her thumb:

  All good but everything in boxes! Will be in touch when life isn’t so crazy!

  Then she put the phone face down on the kitchen counter and pushed it away.

  Maybe Natalie was as bored as she was. Stuck indoors with a baby and a toddler must be pretty tough. When she’d come back to work the first time, she’d joked several times that it was easier to be at work than at home with a baby: ‘It feels so good to think!’