Shelley looked up from the painting and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Lara had asked the big question; now she had to follow through. Surely Shelley knew what she was getting at? Just say it. ‘I mean… did Greg leave you for Dee? Are they together? Is that why he left?’
It would explain why Shelley was so hurt. Why she couldn’t bear to talk about Greg even a year later. Why she no longer had Dee in her life. The double betrayal of her best friend and her husband. Lara’s heart ached for her. It was awful.
But Shelley looked completely confused. Either she was a great actress or Lara had got it very wrong. ‘Leave me for Dee? No. No, of course not.’
Lara’s face grew hot. Had she pushed her too fast again? She was wrong to have asked. Yes, they had become closer, but this was a big thing for Shelley to tell her; she should have waited until Shelley was ready to open up herself. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…’
She tailed off when she realised Shelley was shaking her head. ‘Greg didn’t leave me for Dee. I’m not sure you… why you…’ She took a deep breath. ‘Dee is Greg’s sister.’
25
Shelley
Before
‘I am so happy for you.’
It was true. Shelley was happy for Dee. So why had her first emotion been one of disappointment? Or was that… envy?
Dee was sat on the bed, legs crossed, looking a lot younger than her thirty-one years. ‘It’s insane, right? The idea of me becoming a mother? Totally crazy?’
It did feel a little bit crazy, but mainly because Dee was telling Shelley her news back in her old childhood bedroom.
The whole family had been summoned to Greg and Dee’s parents’ house for their dad’s birthday. Their mother had cooked her famous lemon chicken and they were having a short respite before dessert. Their dad had taken Dee’s new husband Jamie for a tour of his garage, and Greg was helping to load the dishwasher. When Shelley had gone upstairs to use the bathroom, Dee had followed, pounced on her when she came out and dragged her in here.
Despite her protestations of insanity, Shelley could feel her friend’s excitement. She pulled her close and hugged her. ‘You’ll be a brilliant mum.’ She kept her held there long enough to blink her eyes hard. Any tears had to look like happiness, not jealousy.
When she released her, Dee grabbed her hands. ‘You need to get pregnant too! We could do this together!’
Her words fell like a stone inside Shelley. ‘We’re not having children.’
‘What?’ Dee’s eyes widened. ‘Not ever?’
Shelley shook her head. ‘Greg doesn’t want children. We talked about it before we got married. I agreed.’
‘But that was years ago! Have you talked about it recently? Things change.’
They hadn’t talked about it recently, but Greg never hid his feelings. At dinner with his friend Max last weekend, he and his wife had taken turns to leave the table every ten minutes and deal with a toddler who refused to stay in bed. When both parents had joined forces the seventh time, Greg had poured Shelley another glass of wine and said, ‘Thank God we haven’t got kids.’
‘It’s fine. You don’t need to have children to have a full life, you know?’ Shelley had been repeating this to herself like a mantra every time she saw a pram going past or a baby in a high chair at the café.
Dee narrowed her eyes. ‘But that’s Greg’s opinion. What do you want?’
Shelley knew how hard it was to hide her feelings from someone who knew her so well, but Greg was her husband and she wasn’t about to paint him as the bad guy. ‘I made a decision, Dee. I wanted Greg more than I wanted a baby.’
‘But what about now? I don’t think Greg knows what he wants. If you were pregnant, I know he’d be happy. It’s just the thought of it. He can only see the negatives. Once I have this baby, he’ll see how easy it is and he’ll change his mind.’
Shelley shook her head again. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, this is not about us. It’s about you. I’m so happy for you.’
Maybe it was the first-trimester hormones but Dee became quite insistent. ‘Let me talk to him. I’m his sister. I’m sure I can persuade him into it.’
What made her think she had more sway than Shelley? ‘No, Dee. This is between me and Greg.’
‘But he’s being an idiot and someone needs to tell him.’
Greg’s voice rang up the staircase. ‘Shelley! Dee! Are you coming down anytime soon? Mum wants to do the dessert!’
Shelley got up from the bed. ‘Come on, preggers. Let’s go.’
But Dee reached out and held onto her wrist. ‘Hold on. I want to finish our conversation. Do you want a baby? Because this is not something you can decide based on what Greg wants, just like everything else.’
It was the ‘everything else’ that started it. ‘What do you mean?’
Dee sighed deeply. ‘Like all the other things you’ve changed so you like the same things as Greg.’ She stopped, shook her head. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. Let’s just go downstairs and eat baked bloody Alaska.’
But now it was Shelley who wanted to finish this conversation; Dee’s words had stung. ‘What other things?’
Dee shrugged as if Shelley wasn’t giving her a choice. ‘Like Greg going on about your “new favourite wine” at dinner like the two of you are one person.’
Why was she so upset about the wine? ‘Well, that’s ridiculous. Greg’s boss recommended a wine to him so he bought a bottle and we both liked it. You’re completely overreacting.’
Now Dee looked irritated. ‘It’s not just that.’ She glanced around the room as if for inspiration, and her eyes rested on the pop posters still on the wall. ‘You only ever listen to the music he likes, for example. We used to love Westlife, didn’t we? When did you last listen to them?’
Now she really was being ridiculous. ‘When was the last time you listened to them? It’s called growing up, Dee.’
Dee wasn’t giving up. ‘Bad example. But you used to love pop music – we both did. Now you only listen to Greg’s stuff. The Cure. The Smiths. Stuff we used to laugh at because it was so depressing.’
There was a burning in Shelley’s stomach. Was there an element of truth to Dee’s words? She didn’t mind The Smiths these days. It had taken a bit of getting used to, but she quite liked it now. ‘People change, Dee.’
Dee looked at her intently. ‘You read the books he recommends; go to restaurants that he chooses. Hell, you don’t even want to cut your hair because he likes it long.’
Shelley put a hand to her head. ‘I don’t think—’
Dee sensed she was hitting home and interrupted her. ‘How many times have you looked at pictures in magazines of women with cropped hair and said how good you think they look? But you won’t change yours, will you? It’s still halfway down your back like it was when you were eighteen. Why is that?’
Where was all this coming from? The burning was quite intense now. ‘Those styles wouldn’t suit me anyway. I don’t have that kind of face. It’s not because Greg tells me how to have my hair.’ Of course, he hadn’t. But he did tell her often how beautiful it was. How long hair was just more feminine.
Dee was just getting warmed up. ‘And holidays. When we went interrailing, you made a long list of places you wanted to visit before you were thirty. How many of those have you been to?’
‘That’s not fair. You know how Greg feels about flying.’
‘Yes. But there are trains, or cruises.’
‘I get seasick, Dee. You know that too.’
‘Or, and this is really controversial, you could go on your own or with me or another friend. Not that you have a huge number of those around these days.’
Shelley’s throat was tight. ‘Is this a complete character assassination? What have I done to upset you, Dee? Why are you attacking me like this?’
Dee crumpled. ‘I’m not attacking you. I’m worried about you. I miss you. I never see you anymore. And you have… lost yourself.’
�
�I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m absolutely fine.’
Dee looked her in the eye. ‘Are you? Because I don’t recognise you anymore. I don’t know where my best friend is. I never see you. We never do the things together which we enjoyed. All I see is—’
Greg’s voice called up the stairs again. ‘Shelley! Dee! Mum’s about to get the baked Alaska out of the oven, and if you’re not at the table, she’s going to go spare!’
* * *
The baked Alaska had been the usual triumph, but Shelley hadn’t made eye contact with Dee for the rest of dinner.
When Shelley and Greg got in bed that night, he asked her about it and she told him what had been said.
‘Wow. I wonder where that all came from.’ He looked thoughtful. She loved the way he looked in bed: T-shirt, boxers and messy hair. ‘It’s not true, is it? I mean, what she’s saying. It’s utterly ridiculous, right?’
The burning sensation was back. ‘Utterly ridiculous.’
‘Good, because if I thought that I had done anything to make you give things up, I would feel… terrible. I mean, I love you the way you are, I really do.’
‘I know.’ She reached over to kiss him. But was the way she was her actual self? And if not, what was?
As he encircled her in his arms, she pushed Dee out of her mind. Right now, she wanted to lose herself in Greg and not think about the questions that Dee had put in her head. She closed her eyes as his hands stroked her back and— ‘Hold on.’
Greg pulled his head back to look at her. ‘What is it?’
‘I’ve run out of the pill. I’ve been meaning to take my repeat prescription in and just haven’t had time. I haven’t taken it for the last two days.’ Although they had a good sex life, she and Greg weren’t an every single night couple. It hadn’t been a huge priority.
Greg moaned. She could feel a pressure on her leg which suggested he was as keen to make love as she was.
They had always been sensible about birth control. Right from the first time they had slept together and they had used condoms. They had never been the type to throw caution to the wind. Weeks later, she would wonder to herself if she would have made her next statement if it hadn’t been for the conversation she’d had with Dee. ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. No one gets pregnant that easily, do they?’
But it turned out, some people did.
26
Lara
Lara hadn’t needed to look in the mirror as she left the house this morning to see how washed-out she looked: Shelley’s concerned face as she opened the door would have done it for her. Shelley stood back to let her in. ‘Are you okay? Why don’t we leave it today?’
It was like a hangover: her limbs were heavy, she felt tired in her bones. The mirror in Shelley’s hallway showed puffy eyes and a pasty complexion. She tried to smile but she wasn’t convincing anyone. ‘I’m fine. Just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. It’s getting to the stage where I can’t move once I’m in bed. I normally sleep on my back, and that’s out, so I have to wrap myself around a long maternity pillow to support my bump. Then I can’t move. Then I need the toilet. Blah blah blah. Anyway, that’s boring. We were going to start under the bed today. Let’s get cracking.’
Getting cracking in Shelley’s bedroom was the lifeline keeping her going this morning. Both she and Matt had realised the significance of today’s date, as much as they tried not to. It was probably why her night in bed had been so restless. Even Matt had been tossing and turning, and he usually slept like a log. Breakfast this morning had been a subdued affair and he had asked her how she felt so many times that she’d wanted to scream. Today she was twenty-nine weeks plus one day pregnant, and it didn’t need to be circled on the calendar for them to know what that meant.
It had been an absolute stroke of luck that Shelley had decided to take a random Monday off work today. Apparently, she had loads of holiday allowance left and they were pushing her to take some of it. However, she was definitely less keen than Lara to get started with the stuff under her bed. ‘Shall I make us a cup of tea so you can have a sit-down first?’
Lara rubbed her stomach while she walked into the lounge; she felt so uncomfortable this morning too. ‘That sounds like a stalling tactic to me. I’ll have a glass of water. Then we need to get started.’
She sank into the sofa, closed her eyes and leaned back while Shelley got her water. It would take very little to just fall asleep right now. ‘You’re in the third trimester,’ Matt had said this morning. ‘You’ll start feeling better soon, love.’ She hadn’t asked whether he meant physically or mentally. The first time she’d been pregnant, she’d subscribed to an email that gave her daily alerts about her baby’s progress – Your baby is the size of your fingernail – but she hadn’t done it this time. When she’d logged into her personal email account a week after the first miscarriage, it had been excruciating to see what her lost child might have been doing in its twelfth week.
Shelley brought her a glass of water and she sipped it slowly as Shelley watched her like a worried parent. ‘I’m not sure we should do this today. You look beat.’
Lara shook her head. ‘I need to do something. I’m going crackers next door and Matt keeps calling every hour to check in on me. I feel like a child. A very bored child.’
Shelley tilted her head to one side. ‘Why don’t you just turn your phone off and try and get some sleep?’
Lara gave a hollow laugh. ‘Last time I did that, he left work and came home to check on me. No, it’s easier to take the call and assure him that I’ve had a sit-down and eaten something.’ She raised her water glass. ‘Maybe we could text him a picture of me drinking this? Although not from your phone. I told him I was going to stay home and sleep today.’
Shelley folded her arms. ‘Well, if Matt doesn’t know you’re here, I’m not really comfortable with getting you to work on my sorting out. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you need to rest today.’
There was more to this than concern; Shelley was doing everything she could to stop Lara getting to the bedroom. What was she hiding up there? ‘Don’t you start mollycoddling me. What happened to everything is going to be fine this time?’ Lara put her glass down on the coaster and shuffled forwards on the sofa, pressing her arms into the seat to push herself to standing. ‘I’ll have the rest of that later or it’ll be Niagara Falls every half hour. Come on, let’s make room for some more joy.’
Behind her, she heard Shelley take a deep breath before following her up the stairs.
The floor of the room was remarkably empty now. The carpet was almost new: they must have barely used this room before Greg had walked out. The two of them had done well in the last few sessions. All that was left to sort out were the smaller boxes under the bed. Shelley brought in some cushions from her bedroom and laid them against the wall on top of the mattress. ‘You sit there. I’ll pull the stuff out.’
The first couple of boxes were just full of papers, so Shelley pulled them out and then pushed them against the wall under the window. Then she seemed to be under the bed for a while, half her body shielded from view and her bottom sicking up in the air.
‘Are you okay under there? You’re not stuck, are you?’
Her voice was muffled. ‘No. There’s nothing left under here now.’ Then there was a loud ringing sound against the metal bed frame which revealed the lie of her words.
‘What was that?’ Lara leaned forwards, trying to peep under the bed. Oof. That wasn’t a good idea. Her head swam a little and she righted herself.
Shelley’s voice was so uncharacteristically light, anyone could have detected that she was lying. ‘Nothing, I’ve got everything out. I must have banged my arm on the leg of the bed.’
Banged her arm? That excuse might have worked if she had a robotic hand or something. It definitely wasn’t going to fool a lawyer. Lara shook her head. ‘Are you telling fibs? There’s another box, isn’t there?’ She moved one of the cushions and leaned back so that she coul
d peer down the gap between the mattress and the wall. ‘I can see it. It’s a pretty box. Why don’t you want to look at that?’
Shelley backed out from under the bed and sat back on her heels. She was flushed, but was that a reflection of her mood or the exertion of pulling boxes from under the bed? She bit her lip. ‘Not yet. I’m not ready.’
Shelley looked every inch the guilty suspect: not making eye contact, diverting attention away by opening a box of old bills and starting to sort through them. Lara opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as her phone rang. Matt. Again.
She knew this day was as hard for him as it was for her. Worse probably. Because her only worry was the baby, whereas he was worried about Lara too. But it was difficult not to get irritated by having the same conversation on repeat. She picked up his call, mouthing, Matt. Sorry, at Shelley, who looked positively relieved at the interruption.
‘Hi, Matt.’
‘Hi. Are you feeling any better?’
‘Yes, much,’ she lied. ‘I’m just next door with Shelley, and before you ask, no I’m not lifting anything. I’m just sitting on the bed chatting to her.’
Matt sounded suspicious. ‘As long as you are. I know it’s difficult Lara, but—’
‘I really need to go, Matt. Shelley has just brought me in a drink.’ She held up her crossed fingers at Shelley; it was only a white lie. And listening to Matt made her more anxious than she felt already. ‘I promise to be good and I’ll see you tonight. I love you.’
Matt sighed in defeat. ‘I love you too, Lara. I really do.’
She clicked to end the call and sighed. She should be nicer to him. He’d been through a lot too.
Shelley reached over and squeezed her hand. ‘It must have been so tough for you both. I understand now why he wants to check on you.’ She seemed to hesitate before adding, ‘You must feel a bit more confident now though? You’re through the danger zone?’
The Forgotten Wife Page 14