The Forgotten Wife

by Emma Robinson

  * * *

  Now, she waited in bed for a while for the baby to move, wiggling her hips a little, tapping and rubbing her stomach. ‘Come on, little one. Time to play ball.’

  The way Matt had spoken last night had made her out to be one of those women who had pushed their husband into having a baby, and that just wasn’t true. He had wanted a baby as much as she had – more, if anything, in the beginning. She had been the one trying to work out when it would be the best time for her career-wise. He had just been eager to get started. ‘Come on, babe, let’s start popping them out!’ had been his actual words.

  Rolling onto her side, she pushed gently into the area where her waist had been. ‘Come on, bubba. Mummy needs you this morning.’

  A twinge turned into a flutter and Lara let out a breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding. If only Matt could feel this, he would understand.

  * * *

  Being up that early meant even more hours to fill. A walk would be a good idea. Fresh air, physical exertion – all positive things for mental health. It was good to explore the neighbourhood a little more; the whole area was beginning to feel more familiar. Here was the school with the tabletop sale banner. Might as well take a picture of the details now. Last time she hadn’t noticed that half the proceeds were going to Tommy’s. Even more reason to persuade Shelley into it.

  Phone back in her pocket, she continued to walk. These streets were less familiar, but she’d always had a pretty good sense of direction, and the map on her mobile would see her home anyway. As the sun moved across the sky, it melted the clouds and it became warm enough to take off her jacket. Gradually, she felt lighter, freer, happier. The endorphins were doing their job and she did feel a whole lot better. Until she got to the park.

  It was the bench which had enticed her. It was early enough that no one was there yet, so she was safe from other people’s cute children. The swings were still and the climbing frame was empty. She tried to imagine herself, and Matt, holding onto a pudgy toddler as they climbed the steps to the slide. It was almost there and then… no. It still didn’t feel real.

  Maybe that was why it was so difficult for Matt. She was finding it difficult to imagine a real-life baby and he was inside her. All she could do was keep trying to make Matt a part of this. Try to get him to feel positive about fatherhood again. She clicked a picture of the swings and sent it to him.

  Not long now.

  Fifteen minutes later and her mood had changed. A heavily pregnant woman with a toddler wheeled a buggy into the park. Sitting down next to Lara with a bump, she let out a long sigh then smiled. ‘We’re about the same size. How long have you got left?’

  Though this mother was only being friendly, it was the kind of conversation Lara avoided like the plague. She’d learned to her cost not to compare herself to other women. ‘About three months.’

  The woman rubbed her belly. ‘Me too. My ankles are starting to swell already. How are you feeling?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ Conversations like this didn’t used to make her so tense. When she’d found out she was pregnant the first time, she’d confided in Natalie and loved it when Natalie had checked in with her every day, sending emails about the size of her baby at week seven, eight, nine. Natalie had still been on maternity leave with her first daughter then and had joked that she would try and get pregnant again so they could be off work together and rip up the mother and baby clubs.

  The toddler started to squawk and strain at her buggy straps. The woman sighed again and unbuckled her. ‘Try and relax as much as you can for the next few weeks. You won’t be allowed to rest again for a very long time.’ She hauled herself off the bench and followed her daughter to the swings.

  Advice. Lara had had so much of it in the last couple of years that she wanted to scream. Relax. Exercise. Be calm. Stay busy. Eat this. Drink that. Avoid medication. Take an aspirin. Everyone knew someone who’d had a miscarriage and had some wisdom to impart.

  And then there were women like this. Women with happy, healthy children who complained about being tired and having no time to themselves. Lara knew she was being unfair – this woman and others like her did look completely knackered – but having no time was infinitely preferable to having way too much.

  Matt was probably right about the antenatal classes. The pair of them were too damaged to sit with optimistic couples on their first try. Any mention of what they’d been through would be bad form, like they were cursed. No. She was much better off with Shelley. Shelley was safe. Pushing herself off the bench with her hands, she slipped away from the park before she met anyone else.

  * * *

  At 5.45 p.m., Shelley pulled up outside her house as usual. Lara had been itching to see her all afternoon but forced herself to wait and allow her fifteen minutes to get in and make herself a drink before she knocked on the door.

  Shelley opened the door with a mug in her hand, looking surprised. They weren’t quite at the popping-over-unannounced stage.

  ‘Only me. Don’t worry, I’m not coming to make you sort more stuff out. I’m too knackered today to think about that.’ She did feel tired: the early morning, the unpleasantness with Matt last night, even the long walk had taken their toll. ‘I just needed a bit of company. Do you mind?’

  Shelley held the door open. ‘Of course not; it’s nice to see you. Come in. Have you had a busy day, then?’

  After scurrying home from the park, she had stayed safely indoors for the rest of the day. ‘No. Unless you count scrolling through Netflix to put some new box sets on my planner busy. I’m going to die of boredom before this baby comes.’ That was tactless. Shelley had been at work all day. ‘How was your day? Any more news?’

  Shelley led the way through to the kitchen. ‘It was fine. Flora was debating whether she wants to retrain as an air steward or become a holiday rep. She’s decided that a desk job is not for her anymore.’ She smiled and then sighed. ‘I’m really going to miss her. She’s completely bonkers but she’s been a good mate, you know? Tea?’

  ‘Yes, please. I’ll have a proper one for once. Do you think you’ll stay in touch with her when you move to the new office?’

  ‘If I move to the new office.’ Shelley reached into a cupboard for another grey mug. Everything in this kitchen was coordinated. It was beautiful. ‘I’d like to see her again but I doubt it. We don’t see each other outside of work now, so it’s unlikely we’ll manage it when we’re no longer colleagues. You know what it’s like.’

  Lara did know exactly what it was like. She remembered Natalie’s text message. Hey, stranger.

  Taking the mug of tea, she followed Shelley through to the lounge, sinking into the huge sofa. She could close her eyes and sleep here, no problem. This house was starting to feel more like home than her own. ‘I love this sofa so much. I’m so glad your ex-husband didn’t take it. Actually, one of the reasons I’ve descended on you is because I walked past that primary school again and the tabletop sale is this weekend. I took a picture of the banner across the school gates with all the info. There’s so much in that pile of stuff to get rid of, and eBaying it all will take forever. This way, you can make a bit of money from the decent stuff. There’s sure to be a ton of Surrey yummy mummies splashing the cash.’

  Shelley sat in the armchair opposite. ‘I’m not sure.’

  Tiredness made Lara more irritable than normal with Shelley’s reticence. Yes, she was pushing Shelley out of her comfort zone, but some people needed that, didn’t they? And Lara would bet Shelley’s ex-husband wasn’t sitting at home every weekend like she did. It was only a tabletop sale, not an all-night rave. ‘Oh, please. I need to have something to do that isn’t too strenuous. Come on, it’ll be fun.’

  Shelley picked up her mug and sipped. ‘Maybe I could give you a few things to sell if you want to do it? I’m not sure it’s for me.’

  Oh, for goodness’ sake. ‘I don’t want to go on my own. I thought it would be something fun for us to do together. Plus, i
t’s in aid of Tommy’s – a charity that raises funds for research into stillbirth, premature birth and miscarriage.’ It was a low strike, pulling the charity card, but she’d been thinking about the sale all afternoon, had even looked on Pinterest for ideas to set out Shelley’s shoes to maximum advantage. Occupying her mind with anything non-baby was a good idea.

  The emotional blackmail must have worked as Shelley nodded. ‘Okay. I’m being silly. Yes, let’s do it.’

  18

  Shelley

  Saturday morning was bright and sunny, which was a good thing because the tabletop sale was on the school field. Matt had made Lara some kind of construction with wire to display the shoes on, and she was putting this together as Shelley wrestled the table up, having already refused Lara’s help. ‘Thanks for letting me borrow your pasting table.’

  ‘No problem. Matt pretended to be awfully disappointed that he couldn’t make a start on wallpapering the nursery, but the installation of his Sky box yesterday took the edge off his disappointment somewhat.’ Lara rubbed at her eyes; her smile looked painted on. Was this too much for her?

  Shelley hadn’t seen Matt this morning but she wondered how he felt about his pregnant wife playing at being a market trader for the morning, given that he hadn’t wanted her to help Shelley with sorting out the box room. She didn’t want to upset him. ‘Doesn’t he mind that you’re out doing this with me?’

  Lara shook her head. ‘I’ve had the fourteen warnings about not lifting, moving or pulling anything. To be honest, it’ll do us both good to do our own thing for a few hours.’

  It wasn’t Shelley’s business to comment on someone else’s relationship. Now she knew about the miscarriage, she could understand Matt’s protectiveness, but it still seemed way over the top. For Lara’s sake, she hoped it would calm down once the baby was here.

  She was attempting to lay the objects out on the table nicely, but there was so much stuff jostling for space that she couldn’t see half of it. ‘How are people going to find something that they want?’

  ‘Don’t you worry. People love a rummage.’ Lara nodded back at the entrance. ‘Here they come.’

  Advancing towards them was a small regiment of people holding carrier bags. It was like a walking race. Before Shelley knew it, a wiry old lady with fingers covered in rings was brandishing a cat ornament under her nose. ‘How much for this, love?’

  A price? How had she not thought about that beforehand? ‘Oh, er, a pound?’

  The old lady nodded and put the cat back. Was that too much?

  ‘Or, uhm, fifty pence?’

  The old lady smiled at her sympathetically, nodded and walked away. Should she have said thirty pence? Had she failed already? Was the woman an expert haggler or could she smell Shelley’s desperation over the aroma of the van that had started frying bacon and sausages at the end of their row?

  Lara was laughing beside her. ‘You’re going to be giving the stuff away at this rate. Hold your nerve, Shelley, hold your nerve.’

  Shelley laughed as well. ‘Sorry, I’ve never really sold things before. I’m overthinking it, aren’t I?’

  Lara scrunched up her nose. ‘A bit. You tell them what you want for it; if they don’t like it, they walk away. Worst-case scenario, we take the stuff you don’t sell to the charity shop on our way home. Nothing lost. It’s fun. Honestly.’

  Despite expecting it to be the polar opposite of fun to be hawking her worldly goods in a school field on a Saturday morning, Shelley had to admit that Lara was right. It had actually felt quite a relief to offload some of this stuff. Especially some of the awful ornaments that Greg’s mother had insisted on buying them, which had only ever seen the light of day when she was due to visit. By 10.30 a.m., she’d sold about a quarter of what was on the table. ‘This is better than I thought it would be. Thanks for persuading me into this.’

  Lara looked a lot brighter too. ‘See, I told you. It’s like the book says. These things can weigh you down, keep you rooted to a time you no longer want to inhabit. It is not the fault of the objects themselves; you can send them on their way to make someone else happy.’

  Sometimes she quoted from the book as if it were a religious text. As if to prove her point, a small voice interrupted their conversation. ‘Excuse me, please. How much is this bag?’

  A young girl of around seven, her two front teeth missing, was holding out a sequined clutch bag, hopefully. The sweetness of her voice and her high pigtails almost unravelled Shelley. ‘How much have you got?’

  The girl opened her palm to show a sweaty pound coin. ‘This.’

  Shelley smiled and held her hand out for the money. ‘Well, that is exactly what it costs.’

  The girl beamed, clutched the bag tighter and ran back to her mother, who was stood watching her, a tiny baby strapped to her chest.

  Lara nudged Shelley gently. ‘See how happy you made her?’

  Shelley watched as the girl’s mother leaned down and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. How did that feel? To be a mother? It was something she hadn’t thought about in quite a while.

  Now Lara was watching too, but her face was darker somehow. Before Shelley had a chance to ask if she was okay, a man started to pull the clubs out of Greg’s golf bag and examine them.

  It felt so odd watching someone handling those clubs. They’d been Greg’s pride and joy at one time. He’d stopped playing golf regularly when he’d changed his job and his new colleagues weren’t into it, but it still felt disloyal.

  She’d tried to explain that to Lara this morning. ‘It feels wrong to be… getting rid of them without…’

  Lara had shaken her head. ‘Do you mean without checking with him first? Look, if he wanted them, he should have come and got them. What are you? A storage facility?’

  And she was right. He obviously didn’t need them. She didn’t want them. But still. Watching this man scrutinising the head of each club was just… wrong somehow.

  ‘Oi, love. How much for the clubs?’

  A combination of the ‘oi’, the fact he couldn’t be bothered to take his other handout of his pocket and that she hated being called love by complete strangers made Shelley less than polite. ‘Two hundred quid.’

  He nearly swallowed his own tongue. ‘For second-hand clubs? You won’t get that, love. What about fifty?’

  She knew for a fact that Greg had paid a lot more than two hundred pounds for those clubs. The bag alone had cost that much. And she didn’t like this man’s tone. ‘They’re a top brand. It’s two hundred or nothing.’

  He made a mocking sound and looked at her as if she were stupid. ‘Maybe, but they’re second-hand. These are titanium clubs; looks like they’ve not been used in a while, judging by the dust. And I’m assuming you ladies don’t want to be carrying these back home again. Especially her.’ He nodded at Lara’s stomach.

  God, she hated men like this. Mansplaining, patronising idiot. Her face grew warm and she gritted her teeth. ‘Well, this lady wants two hundred pounds for those clubs, and if you’re not going to pay that, can you move along so that someone else can take a look?’

  When he walked away, shaking his head, Lara put a hand on her arm. ‘Are you okay? I thought you were going to hit him.’

  Shelley’s anger ebbed as she looked at the concern in Lara’s face, unable to explain – even to herself – why he’d made her so angry. ‘I’m fine. Just don’t like men like that. I’m going to get a coffee from the stall at the end. Do you want anything?’

  * * *

  There was a short queue at the refreshments table, and Shelley was still thinking about the ignorant golf club man, which was why she didn’t notice Steve until he was standing right in front of her. ‘Hi, Shelley. Fancy seeing you here.’

  Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt –his face unshaven, hair tousled – Steve looked very different from the confident salesman she knew from the office. Either that, or the surprise of seeing him here, made her stomach flutter and it took her a moment
to reply. She swallowed. Speak you idiot. ‘I could say the same. You don’t strike me as the tabletop sale type.’

  He laughed and waved a cup of insipid-looking tea. ‘I’m just here for the hot beverages.’ He stood to the side to let someone pass. ‘No, I live near here and just needed to get out of the house for a bit. Saw the sign and thought I’d take a look.’

  She hadn’t realised they lived close to each other. In fact, she didn’t know much about him at all. Like why he would be stuck in the house. Before she could speak again, an attractive woman in full make-up clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Steve! What are you doing here?’

  He flushed and shuffled from foot to foot. ‘Hi, Abbie. I’m just having a walk round.’ He glanced at Shelley. Was he not going to introduce her?

  The attractive woman had a faint accent, but Shelley couldn’t place it. ‘Perfect! I’ve seen something I think your mother would love. Come and see.’

  Steve didn’t put up any resistance when she took hold of his arm and pulled him away. He put up his hand by way of goodbye. Was she his girlfriend? And did she know about the others? The fluttering in her stomach turned to something bitter: maybe he wasn’t such a nice guy after all.

  When she got back to her table with a cup of instant coffee in a polystyrene cup, Shelley found Lara staring at a slim, blond woman pushing a pram slowly past their table: close enough that she could look at their wares, far enough away that they wouldn’t start speaking to her. Over the course of the morning, Shelley had learned to recognise the technique. Every so often, the woman would glance in at her baby, readjust the blanket, wave away a fly, move a toy. Her husband caught up with her and kissed her cheek, leaning in to check the baby himself. It was touching and sweet. And oh so painful.