‘Then you’ve really been missing out. It’s full of bargains. Go and make another cup of tea and I’ll show you.’ Lara held her phone nearer to the cushion and took a close-up of the silver chain.
By the time Shelley got back from the kitchen with the drinks, Lara had opened up her laptop on the dining table and was scrolling through eBay. She patted the chair next to her. ‘Look: you just type in what you’re looking for. Say, necklaces, and it brings up everything that is for sale.’
Shelley peered at the screen. There was a variety of different-length chains with various pendants hanging from them. It was a shock to see how cheap some were. Although she wasn’t keen on hers, Greg had paid quite a lot for it. ‘That one’s less than a quid! There’s no point selling it for that; I’d rather give it to the charity shop.’
Lara rolled her eyes. ‘Hold your horses, cowboy. That’s only the starting price. People place bids and it goes up and up until the end of the auction.’
From memory, it had cost about three hundred times that. ‘It wants to go up a lot from ninety-nine pence.’
This was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Was she really going to sell the jewellery that Greg had bought her? It wasn’t as if she was ever going to wear it again. She hadn’t liked it when he’d bought it, let alone now. But still. It felt… like closing a door.
‘Hang on.’ Shelley leaned towards the screen again. Something bright had caught her eye. ‘Scroll back a bit.’
Lara did as asked. ‘What have you seen?’
Shelley pointed. ‘I like that necklace. The one with the buttons.’
She pointed at a necklace made from several strands of lime green and hot pink buttons of various sizes. Lara’s eyebrows nearly hit her fringe. ‘This one?’
What was so wrong with it? ‘Yes. Why? Isn’t it any good?’
Lara dropped her eyebrows, started to backtrack on her surprise. ‘It’s not that. I just haven’t seen you wear anything like that. Your normal taste seems more… conservative.’
Now she understood. ‘Boring, you mean?’
‘No. Not boring.’ Lara flailed around for the right word. ‘Classy.’
That was a euphemism for dull if she’d ever heard one. Was that how Lara saw her? Staid and uninteresting, like the opal pendant laid out on the cushion? There was more to her than that; Lara just hadn’t seen it yet. ‘I like that button necklace a lot. How much is it?’
Lara clicked the mouse to enlarge the window on the screen. ‘Well, shopper, you’re in luck. It’s a Buy It Now, so you don’t have to bid. You can just order it.’
Shelley leaned in again. Would she wear it? Did it go with anything she had? Maybe it was best to leave it for now. She was supposed to be getting rid of stuff, not buying more. But then she looked at Lara’s face. Classy? Or boring? What did it matter if it didn’t match anything she had? She could always buy new clothes. Ones that she had chosen. ‘Yes. I do want to order it.’
Lara grinned. ‘Great. Let’s do it. Shall we set you up an account? I’ll need your credit card details. We can start listing the pieces you want to sell.’
Shelley’s purse was in her bag, hanging on a peg in Lara’s hall. As she left to retrieve it, her stomach felt decidedly unsettled. Could she really bring herself to sell her jewellery? She’d had some of those necklaces and bracelets for a long time. What did the book say? Do you need it? Does it bring you joy? She definitely didn’t need them. And joy? Looking at them right now was more painful than anything else. She pushed down the uncertainty and grabbed her bag from the peg. This was a good idea. It was.
When she got back, Lara was staring at the laptop screen. Hers wasn’t a happy face. Shelley placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you okay? Did something go wrong?’
Lara peeled her eyes away from the screen and shook her head as if to make them work again. ‘No. It’s fine. There are just some ancient messages on my account and I stupidly clicked on them.’
Who sent messages on eBay? It wasn’t social media. ‘Is it something mean? Is someone trolling you?’
‘On eBay?’ Lara smiled although the humour didn’t reach her eyes. ‘You really are a novice, aren’t you? No, it’s an old message from a seller asking me to leave a review for something I bought ages ago.’ She turned her laptop so that Shelley could see the screen. ‘A pram.’
It was plum-coloured with thick wheels and a cherry logo on the side. The date on the message was from two years ago. Why would Lara and Matt be buying a pram all that time ago? ‘Looks great. I didn’t know you had a pram already.’
‘We don’t. This was a while ago.’ Lara took a deep breath. ‘A different pregnancy. One that didn’t make it.’
Deep down in Shelley’s gut, a scraping sensation almost made her catch her breath. For a moment she couldn’t speak. Push it down. Focus on Lara. ‘I’m so sorry. That must have been terribly hard for you.’
Lara flushed. ‘Yeah. It was.’ She looked back at the screen. ‘We were stupid to buy the pram so early. Everyone tells you not to, but you never think it’ll be you, right?’
You never think it’ll be you. So incredibly true. ‘Well, I suppose you were excited. It’s easy to get carried away when you’re excited.’
Shelley thought it would be best not to delve too deeply into this, but Lara clearly wanted to share it. ‘We hadn’t even had the first scan. We were shopping at the retail park, getting some part for Matt’s computer, and there was a Mothercare. We only popped in to look but I saw the pram and we were messing about. Matt took a picture of me pushing it as a joke – said he was going to make it into a meme when we announced the pregnancy.’
Shelley could see the two of them in her head; she’d imagined the exact same scenario many times herself. Buying a pram was a big moment. ‘And you ended up going home with it?’
Lara shook her head. ‘Not exactly. Matt was browsing on eBay – he had a borderline addiction – and saw the previous year’s model on offer for a stupid price so he said we might as well get it. He doesn’t believe in all the old superstitions. Well, neither did I really, but…’
Did she know Lara well enough to put her arms around her? It felt heartless to just sit there. Best to stay still though; even touching Lara’s hand might start one or the both of them crying, and that wouldn’t help anyone. ‘I’m so sorry, Lara. But look how well you’re doing this time. How far along are you now?’
‘Twenty-nine weeks and one day.’ Lara put a hand on her stomach and smiled. ‘Roughly.’
‘There you go. I know… I mean, I’ve heard it’s incredibly common to miscarry the first time. It’s just because no one talks about it and you don’t know until it happens to you.’ She needed to stop speaking. Had she said too much?
Lara’s smile froze and she turned back to the computer screen, where she clicked out of her messages and back to the homepage. ‘Yes. I know. Anyway, let’s get you set up. Have you got your credit card?’
Clearly, she was done talking about it. ‘Here you go.’ Shelley slid her credit card over and Lara tapped in her account details.
Lara was back in business mode. ‘While I fill this out, why don’t you start sorting through the box? Work out which bits and pieces you want to list first.’
The box was on the coffee table, staring at her accusingly. This was as good a time as any to sort it all out. It needed doing. And what was the point of hanging on to it if she was never going to wear it? It’s just stuff.
Shelley perched on the edge of the sofa. Spread out in front of her like a pirate’s treasure were rings and bracelets and earrings; large gems in different colours and sizes; thick bands of white gold and platinum. Everything showy and sparkly and not her style at all. Why hadn’t she told him? Why had she pretended that she loved it? Dee’s voice rang in her ear: If you don’t tell him, I will.
Picking a small, white box at random, she found a ring: the first he’d ever bought her. A large, square sapphire in a white gold setting that had caught Greg’s eye in a w
indow. He’d taken her to see it, so excited by his find that she’d had no way of telling him that she hated it. And that’s how it had started.
16
Shelley
Before
‘It’s your birthstone. Sapphire. For September.’ He glanced at the shop assistant and she nodded confirmation. A co-conspirator.
It was their first trip away together. Greg had booked a hotel in Southwold and they’d had a wonderful weekend on the beach, sitting in front of the beach huts, drinking coffee in a dark café that you had to go down some steps to get to. Shelley had never been on holiday as a child – there hadn’t been the spare money once her dad left – and Greg had pulled out all the stops to make sure she enjoyed it. She was a little in awe of how easily he organised everything from booking the hotel to finding the ideal restaurant for dinner. She never felt so grown up and sophisticated with anyone else. Greg made everything perfect.
Last night in bed he had announced that he wanted her to have a memento of the trip and suggested they go shopping the next morning. Naively, she had assumed he’d meant a fridge magnet or postcard.
She stared at the ring lying innocently in front of her on a dark purple velvet-lined display tray. It wasn’t the blue stone she didn’t like – although the size of it practically shouted ‘bling’ – it was the setting. The white gold band was thick and chunky and modern. Would she even be able to lift her hand with that on her finger? If that wasn’t enough, there were small diamonds set into the shoulders of the setting, which caught the light and drew her eye: Look at me! Look at me!
Greg seemed blissfully unaware of her reluctance to try it on. ‘I spotted it in the window this morning when I came out to get the paper. When I asked what the stone was – and found out that sapphires are the birthstone for September – I knew it would be perfect for you.’
He’d sneaked out of the hotel room early that morning with a plan to surprise her with a newspaper and coffee when she woke up. It had been very sweet of him. No one had bought her a pristine copy of The Times before. He’d sat on the end of the bed in his long, checked shorts and white T-shirt looking like a young boy in his excitement to show her what he’d found. It would be churlish not to at least try it on. She held out her right hand and he slipped it onto the ring finger. With any luck, it would be too small.
The fates were against her: the ring might have been made to measure. Greg’s smile got even wider. ‘See, I knew it would be perfect. Look. Stay here with it. I’m just going to go down the road and get some cash out. There’s a discount for cash.’ He paused and dipped his head until he was looking Shelley in the eye. ‘You do like it, don’t you?’
This was her chance. With the red shoes, he’d already bought them. This time she could say no, it wasn’t for her. Thanks, but no thanks. Channel her inner Dee – polite but assertive.
But Greg looked so hopeful, so excited. It would spoil the end of their perfect weekend if she said she didn’t like it. It would be like kicking a puppy. She had one last try at avoidance. ‘Of course I like it. You’re so clever to have found it. It’s perfect. But really, it’s too much. You’ve already paid for this whole weekend. I can’t let you buy this too. Really.’
Greg was already at the door before she finished speaking. The bell tinkled as he pushed it open. ‘Just give me five minutes. Don’t take it off.’
She turned back to look at her right hand, which was still splayed in front of her, the offending article on her ring finger. The large sapphire mocked her. Why did it have to fit so perfectly?
As the door clicked shut, the elderly shop assistant spoke for the first time. ‘You don’t like it, do you?’
Shelley looked up. The assistant stood a little back from the counter, hands linked in front. Her grey hair was cut well and she wore a navy suit. Her smile was kind. Trustworthy. Even though Greg was halfway to the ATM, Shelley lowered her voice. ‘Is it that obvious?’
The assistant laughed. ‘I’ve worked here a long time, my dear. When people are being treated to a ring, they usually look more enthusiastic about it.’
Shelley’s face grew warm. This woman must think she was awful. ‘Sorry. I know I sound ungrateful, and the ring is lovely, it’s just…’
‘Just not your thing? Don’t apologise. It’s a very personal choice.’ She nodded at the other ring on Shelley’s hand. On her little finger was a thin yellow gold band with tiny golden flowers dotted all the way around. She’d bought it in a German market when she’d been travelling with Dee. ‘I can see your taste is more for the vintage.’
To be honest, she didn’t have enough jewellery to actually have a taste. But it definitely wasn’t this huge blingy shouty thing that Greg had picked out. Dee had helped her to choose the gold ring with the flowers as she’d dithered back and forth between it and one with a spiral shape. This one is more you, Dee had decided.
She felt guilty again. ‘They don’t really go together, do they? Maybe I should take off the yellow gold one? See if the sapphire looks better on its own?’ She twisted it off, leaving an imprint in her finger where it had been. The improvement was marginal.
The assistant could clearly read Shelley’s face. ‘You should just tell him. Believe me. Otherwise he will think that this is the kind of jewellery you like and you’ll be getting it every birthday for the rest of your life.’
She raised a warning eyebrow at Shelley as the tinkling door heralded Greg’s reappearance. He slipped the cash across the counter at the assistant, who paused before she took the money, looking to Shelley for her reaction.
Shelley took a deep breath and turned to Greg. ‘Thank you. It’s beautiful.’
The smile on his face confirmed she’d made the right decision. It was just a ring after all. It wouldn’t hurt her to wear it now and again if it made him happy.
While the assistant processed the payment, Shelley wandered to the other side of the shop, where there was a tray of antique gold bangles; they were much more her style. Greg came up behind and looked over her shoulder. ‘That’s the kind of old tat that Dee likes, isn’t it? Shall we buy her one? Might help to get me back in her good books after taking you away from her this weekend. Mind you, if I buy it, it’s sure to be wrong.’
And she would tell you, Shelley thought. Because she’s not scared to say what she wants. And she makes sure she gets it.
17
Lara
Matt had tried to creep out quietly this morning but his alarm had woken Lara and she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
‘Sorry,’ he’d whispered. ‘Early one this morning.’
Trying to pretend that she wasn’t actually awake, she’d kept her eyes closed, still upset from their conversation last night.
He’d got back late. Again. It was the nature of a field sales job, which meant lots of time on the road. One traffic jam on the M40 followed by a broken down car on the M25 could mean at least a two-hour delay. He would call her from the handsfree in the car: Sorry. Are you okay? It wasn’t his fault. But after another day spent at home alone, she’d been desperate for company.
Still, it had been stupid to start a conversation about the birth on a Monday night when he was tired and hungry and still had a raft of emails to clear.
She’d been picking at the bowl of salad in the middle of the table. ‘What will you do nearer the birth? About meeting customers at such a distance, I mean.’
He’d looked up from his carbonara with heavy lids. ‘Sorry? I was miles away. Distance? No, I’ll try and sort my schedule so that I am no more than an hour’s drive from home once we get to… near to… the actual thing.’
Thing. It. Why couldn’t he say it? Irritation had scratched at her. ‘Even an hour is quite a long way. I mean, an hour could be as far as the M4 junction, and if you got stuck at the top of the M25, which is more than possible…’
She’d tailed off when he’d sighed deeply. ‘I know, Lara. I know. But what can I do? It’s my job. I’m trying to work my backside off
at the moment so that I can take two weeks’ paternity leave but it’s not that kind of job. You know that. And if I can make my target this quarter, the bonus will really help make up the shortfall.’
Lara had bristled. The shortfall caused by their new circumstances – only one wage coming into the house. ‘It was your idea that I give up work.’
Matt’s head had drooped, his voice monotone. ‘I know that, Lara. Are you trying to pick a fight with me? I’m not complaining. I’m just tired.’
He was always tired at the moment. The move had reinvigorated them for a while, given them something else to think about. But now the unpacking was done – and with far fewer possessions that hadn’t taken long – they had slid back into this… stasis.
Time to change the subject. ‘I’ve seen an advert for a local antenatal group. It’s on a Monday evening. Shall I book us onto it?’
Matt had shaken his head, moving pasta around his plate. ‘Mondays are tricky for me, love. Why don’t you ask a friend to go with you? Maybe Shelley?’
Irritation had grown to annoyance. He was happy to suggest groups for her to attend. ‘This is something we should do together. Mother and father. It’s what everyone does, Matt. All normal expectant couples go to antenatal classes.’
Matt had laid both his palms on the table. He wasn’t a man who got angry. He wasn’t a man who showed much intensity of emotion at all. It was part of what attracted her to him: he was the yin to her yang. But right then, he’d seemed to be fighting to stay calm. ‘Lara. I’ve done everything you wanted. We are doing this because you want to do it. But you need to stop pushing me to do more.’
This isn’t fair. ‘But it has worked out. Hasn’t it? It was the right thing to do?’
He’d finally looked up at her, his eyes unreadable. ‘Has it? How can you know that?’ He’d crumpled a little. ‘I’m sorry. I’m really tired. I think I need to go to bed.’
The Forgotten Wife Page 9