The Forgotten Wife

by Emma Robinson

  29

  Shelley

  The miscarriage had happened over a year – and yet a whole lifetime – ago. As she recounted the events of that day, it was like telling herself the story too. Slowly unwrapping the memory like an unexploded device, waiting for the emotions to strike. How could she put into words how she had felt that day? And the days that followed. Disbelief? Fear? Pain? Anger?

  Anger.

  Even now, her jaw stiffened as she explained what had happened. ‘Greg didn’t want to take the risk that I would fall pregnant again. It had been an accident the first time but it was obviously not meant to be, and, according to him, we should go back to our original plan. He just wanted a relationship to be about two people. He didn’t want a family. Never had. That’s why it’s so hard now…’

  Lara looked as if she might be sick. ‘Oh, Shelley. Would he not even discuss it? Did he not support you? I know how awful it is to lose a baby. Truly awful.’

  It had been awful. It had. She’d thought it was the worst possible thing that could happen. She’d been wrong.

  The blanket in her hands was so tiny. She rubbed at it with her thumb. ‘I have no idea why I kept these things. It was stupid to buy them in the first place.’ Her voice sounded so bitter. She attempted a weak smile at Lara, whose face was wet with fresh tears.

  ‘No, it wasn’t stupid. No more stupid than me buying a pram or a baby bath or any of those other things I bought the first time. You were excited. That’s natural. You should be excited about having a baby. That’s how it’s supposed to be.’

  A lump rose in Shelley’s throat and she struggled to swallow it down. Greg hadn’t been excited. Not at any point. She’d just fooled herself into thinking it would work out. ‘But why did I keep them afterwards? I should have done exactly what you did and got rid of everything. Taken it to the charity shop or given it to someone else. Not just shoved it in here with the rest of the junk.’

  When Shelley glanced up, Lara’s eyes were full of pity. The same eyes she had seen over and over in the last year: she hadn’t wanted to see them from her. She wanted Lara to be her friend because they enjoyed each other’s company, not because she felt sorry for her.

  Lara reached forwards and put a hand over Shelley’s. Another familiar reaction. ‘I can’t believe that he wouldn’t even discuss the possibility of another baby. Did you want to try again? Did he know that?’

  God, this was hard. She shouldn’t have started this; it was too painful, too difficult. How was she going to get this all out? Breathe. Breathe. ‘Yes, he knew. When I found out that he had booked the vasectomy, I tried to persuade him out of it. It was so final. No chance for a change of heart.’ She refolded the blanket and put it back into the box. ‘But he knew he wouldn’t have a change of heart.’

  He had been very straight with her, very gentle. He was worried that it might happen again. He was convinced that the miscarriage had happened because of a heart defect – it didn’t matter how many times she told him that miscarriages were common with a first pregnancy. He’d had a heart murmur as a baby, he’d told her for the first time. Nothing serious. An ‘innocent murmur’, the doctor had described it to his parents. But he had got it into his head that the baby might have had the same thing and they shouldn’t risk passing it on.

  ‘That’s just an excuse!’ she’d screamed at him; the first time in their marriage she had ever raised her voice. They weren’t a couple who argued. Because, she now realised, she had never challenged him before; never pushed back; never demanded, asked, wanted anything. He had been the one with the ideas, the plans, the vision for their life together and she had just… gone along with it.

  Lara rubbed at her forehead. ‘But he knew that you wanted children? And still wouldn’t discuss it? That’s terrible, Shelley. So selfish.’

  Shelley shook her head; it wasn’t as simple as that. ‘The way he saw it, he’d been honest from the beginning. Before we even got serious, he’d spoken about the fact he didn’t want children. It was a deal-breaker for him. That’s what he said. I made the choice. I chose him. I wanted him more than I wanted children. I was wrong to expect that he would change his mind because we’d had an accidental pregnancy.’

  She’d rowed with Dee too. It had been irrational and unkind, but when Dee had even suggested speaking to Greg on her behalf, she’d practically roared at her, blamed her for putting the idea of a pregnancy into her head. It hadn’t helped that Dee’s stomach had been swelling with her own child. Shelley hadn’t even wanted to look at her.

  Lara blinked as if she was trying to process what Shelley was saying. ‘I’m sorry, but… I can’t… I mean, did you just give in? I understand that Greg didn’t want children, but surely he could see how you might have changed your mind? I’m not saying that having children is the be all and end all for everyone, but…’ She motioned to the box. ‘It looks to me like you really wanted to be a mum.’

  Shelley’s hands trembled and she tightened them into fists, her heart beating right out of her chest. ‘Maybe I had changed my mind. But he hadn’t. I could rage all I wanted but he wasn’t going to back down. Being a parent was a huge thing, he said. You couldn’t just do it because someone else wanted you to. It wouldn’t be fair on anyone.’

  Lara opened her mouth. Closed it again. Shook her head. Shelley knew how she felt. Greg’s explanations had been sound. No one should be forced into being a parent. But it hadn’t stopped her trying to persuade him… until she realised that he really wasn’t going to budge. He had been honest and clear and consistent in what he wanted. What else could she have done but accept it?

  ‘I told myself that once everyone around us was through the baby stage, all our friends, it would be okay. I loved my husband. We had a good life. We enjoyed each other’s company, had meals out and great holidays, and, like Greg said, we couldn’t have had all that if we’d had kids. But now… now he’s gone I don’t have that either.’

  Lara’s face reddened. ‘What an absolute bastard. I’m sorry, Shelley. I know he was your husband and I am trying not to be judgmental. But to make you sacrifice that and then to just abandon you anyway—’

  ‘He didn’t make me,’ Shelley interrupted. Despite her anger with Greg, it wasn’t fair to blame him for this, and she didn’t want to give Lara the wrong impression of him. ‘It was my choice.’

  Lara’s eyes glinted. ‘Yes, but you made that choice thinking he would be there forever. That you were choosing a marriage over a baby. And then he left you. I’m sorry. I know you loved him, but I just can’t believe anyone could be that cruel.’

  Shelley swallowed. There was no getting away with it any longer. It was time to tell Lara the truth. She deserved the truth. ‘You don’t understand.’

  Lara reached out and took her hand. ‘I do understand. I do. Because I wanted a child so badly it almost killed me. I understand that longing. And he put you through that and then left you and I know that you are a good person but… Oh, don’t cry… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’

  Tears threatened to choke her but Shelley had to explain. ‘No. You don’t understand. You can’t understand because I haven’t… because… because Greg didn’t leave me like you think. He died, Lara. My husband died.’

  30

  Shelley

  Before

  Since the miscarriage, something had shifted between them. Anger and disbelief were unwanted guests in their house that they couldn’t get rid of.

  In the days after the scan, Shelley saw babies everywhere. On billboards and magazine covers, and in real life. It was as if she was conjuring them up from the depths of her mind, willing them into being.

  It was absolute torture.

  Once it was all over, Greg had been so kind, he really had. Telling her to stay in bed and rest after the D&C procedure which had left her sore and tender. It wasn’t the pain that stayed with her; it was the emptiness.

  How could she broach the subject with him? Surely most normal women would be in a period of m
ourning after something so terrible. Instead, she felt as if something had awoken in her. Something she couldn’t ignore.

  Initially, he had been gentle. ‘You’ve been through a lot, Shel. And your hormones will probably be all over the place. It’s not the time to be making big decisions.’

  Maybe that was true. But this feeling was strong. She wanted a baby. She wanted to try again.

  When he realised that she wasn’t going to let it go, he had taken it more seriously. ‘But I don’t want a child. You know that. We talked about it before we got married. You were okay with that.’

  He was right. He had made that clear to her at the beginning. He had done nothing wrong. But she hadn’t known then. Hadn’t known that she would want this someday. And want it so badly. For a week, she shouted and argued and cried and then… then she gave in. As he probably knew she would.

  * * *

  This morning, on the surface, all had been fine. He’d brought her tea in bed and kissed her goodbye as usual. She’d gone to work and was sifting through her paperwork when she felt Flora’s hand on her arm.

  ‘This call is for you. It’s Greg’s boss.’

  That was strange. ‘Put it through to my phone.’

  The conversation with Greg’s boss was brief. He’d collapsed at work. They’d called an ambulance and he was on his way to the hospital. Could she go straight there?

  The shock must have been apparent on her face because Flora insisted on asking someone from the finance team to drive her to the hospital. When he dropped her off outside A&E, she stood in the busy reception area for a few moments, lost, unsure where to go. What should she do? Who could she ask? A receptionist smiled at her. ‘Can I help?’

  Once she’d stammered Greg’s name, the receptionist looked him up on the computer then led Shelley to a small room, assuring her that someone would come and speak to her shortly. Greg was in resuscitation – she wasn’t allowed in. They asked her if she wanted to call anyone to wait with her. She’d called her mum but the phone had gone to answer machine. Greg’s parents were away visiting friends and she couldn’t get hold of them either. It would have to be Dee.

  Since Dee’s pregnancy announcement, things had been weird between them. Greg had called Dee to tell her about Shelley’s miscarriage, and Dee had wanted to come over, but Shelley had asked Greg to put her off. She hadn’t wanted to see her. Luckily, right after it had happened, Dee and her husband had been about to fly out to Spain for two weeks: a last-minute holiday before she got too big to fly. They’d been back a few days now, but Shelley had managed to avoid her so far. There was no avoiding calling her now though. She found Dee’s name on her mobile and pressed it with a shaky finger. Voicemail.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ A large woman with dark hair and some kind of uniform – Nurse? Orderly? Volunteer? – stood in front of her, her hands on her hips. Her face kind.

  Shelley’s throat was so tight, she wouldn’t have been able to drink anything. ‘No, thank you. I really need to see my husband. He was brought in by ambulance. Collapsed at work. I was told someone would come for me, take me to see him. Greg Thomas. Do you know if he is still in resuscitation? Do you know if he’s okay?’

  The woman looked at her. Just looked at her for a few moments. Saying nothing. ‘I don’t know, I’m afraid. I’m sure someone will be here shortly. I’ll get you a cup of tea in the meantime and leave it on the table. You don’t have to drink it but it’ll be there if you change your mind.’

  She bustled away and Shelley heard the clang of a metal trolley, followed by the scrape of a spoon in a china cup and the clatter of cutlery.

  The woman reappeared. ‘Here you go, love. I brought you a couple of biscuits too. Chocolate. Is there anyone you can call so you’re not waiting here on your own?’

  Why were they all obsessed with her calling someone? She didn’t need anyone to wait with her. And why couldn’t she see Greg? Still, she tried Greg’s parents again. And Dee. Still no answer. This time she left a message.

  * * *

  A knock on the door and a doctor came in, followed by a nurse. ‘Mrs Thomas? I’m Dr Winters.’ He shook her hand. ‘Is there anyone on their way to be with you?’ When she shook her head, he glanced at the nurse and sat down. ‘Your husband had a severe heart attack at work. The ambulance crew worked hard to keep him alive on the way here and there is a team trying to repair the damage right now. We will keep you informed, but I have to warn you, it’s not looking very good. I really think you need to have someone here with you. Can we call them for you?’

  She shook her head again. ‘I’ve left messages.’

  The doctor nodded and left, promising to keep her updated.

  Who knew how long she sat there watching the tea go cold? It might have been five minutes or five hours. It was warm in the room, really warm. But when she pressed her fingers to her mouth they were ice-cold. What was taking so long?

  Then it happened. She had been sitting still, hands back in her lap, staring at the poster on the opposite door which explained all the safeguarding measures that had been put in place in the A&E department. It was the twelfth time she’d read it; anything not to think.

  How could she describe the feeling? It started with a warmth on her chest and then she felt arms go around her back and a pressure as if she was being held in an embrace. Three, four, five seconds. Then it slipped away.

  There was a knock on the door and the receptionist entered. ‘Mrs Thomas? Your husband’s sister has arrived. Is it okay to show her in?’

  Although she knew Dee was pregnant, it was still a shock seeing a visible bump. The last time she’d seen her, Dee had begun to thicken about the middle, but now there was no mistaking that there was a baby in there.

  ‘Where is he? Why aren’t they letting us go in?’ Dee swept in with her usual energy and noise. ‘Have they told you anything? Are you okay?’ The legs of the plastic chair scraped along the floor as she moved it to sit closer to Shelley. She tried to take one of her hands but Shelley kept them clasped in her lap. Dee’s questions hammered onto her head.

  ‘Heart attack. They’re working on him.’

  ‘Oh my God. I came as soon as I got your voicemail. I’m sorry I missed your calls. I’d turned it onto silent mode for a midwife appointment and forgot to turn the ringer back on.’

  Dee’s face was stretched and white. It had been the right thing to call her, of course it had, but it was harder to have her here than be alone. She always wanted to be in charge of everything.

  Shelley had wondered before now if Greg blamed Dee for Shelley’s change of mind about becoming a mother. He had certainly not been in any rush to speak to her after she got back from her holiday.

  Dee stood and started to pace the small room, her hands on her burgeoning stomach. ‘What have they told you? Do you know exactly what they’re doing?’

  Shelley’s hands gripped each other more tightly. Dee needed to stop talking. Why was she pacing like that? Why was she taking up so much space in the room? Just focus on the poster. Don’t look at her.

  She was in that position when the doctor and nurse knocked and entered again. The doctor looked relieved to see Dee. ‘Oh, good. You have someone here now.’

  Dee held out her hand to shake his. ‘I’m Greg’s sister. What’s going on? Is he okay? Can we see him?’

  Still with the questions. Shelley ignored her and looked at the doctor. ‘I want to see my husband.’

  The doctor motioned for Dee to sit down. He and the nurse took the two remaining chairs. He looked tired. They both did. ‘Mrs Thomas, as I explained earlier, your husband had a severe heart attack this morning. We did all we could to repair the damage, but then he suffered a cardiac arrest. There was nothing we could do.’

  She continued to stare at the doctor. What else was there? Where was Greg now? What did this mean?

  Dee leaned forwards. ‘So, what do we do now? Does he have to go on a register for a transplant? Is he on life support? What kind of
condition is he in?’

  Each question she asked burrowed into Shelley’s skull. Ignoring Dee, she focused on the tired doctor. ‘I need to see him.’

  The doctor nodded. ‘We will take you to see him in a moment. We’re just moving him to the high-dependency unit, where you can stay as long as you like.’ He glanced at Dee and then back to her. ‘At the moment, he has machines keeping him breathing. We will send him for a scan shortly to confirm, but there appears to be no brain activity. I’m so sorry but he’s not going to come back from this.’

  Dee was up on her feet again. ‘What do you mean? Why have you stopped? What have you done? There must be something else you can try!’

  Shelley gripped the sides of the chair with her hands. She couldn’t take these questions anymore. A scream tore from somewhere at the bottom of her stomach. ‘He’s dead! He’s dead, Dee! Stop asking these fucking questions. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!’

  She went on, screaming and shouting at Dee. No idea what she was saying. They sedated her. An injection which felt as if someone had squeezed her head so tight that she couldn’t escape. She was aware of everything going on around her. People speaking. Signing forms. More cups of tea arriving. But she couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t quite understand.

  * * *

  Once the scan was completed, they took her to Greg’s bedside, but it wasn’t him lying in the bed. It was a man who looked like him, but he was pale and grey and empty. So empty. She had told Dee to wait outside; she wanted to see him alone first without her noise and her tears and her interference.

  A nurse spoke to her very quietly. ‘It looks as if he is breathing, but that is the machine breathing for him. As the doctor explained, your husband is now classed as clinically brain-dead.’

  She sat down on the chair they had placed beside the bed for her. Slipping her arm under his, she bent her head and laid her cheek across the back of his hand. Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘Don’t leave me, Greg. Please don’t go.’