The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  She wondered why he would start now.

  4

  THE FRIEND

  Wednesday a.m.

  Noah enjoyed being pushed in his pram, as long as Louisa kept it moving. If she could spend every hour of each day treading the pavements of Little Penchurch, he’d be a quiet baby. Tiff only lived a few minutes from her house, so rather than take the direct route, she went the long way around, circumnavigating the village in the hope Noah may stay asleep once she stopped at her destination. It was unlikely, but nevertheless she had to try something – and she was determined that nothing would stop her seeing Tiff this morning.

  Tiff’s house was stunning, like her. It was detached – which again, some would say was one of her traits – standing in its own grounds set back from the road. Inside it was modern, spotless – like a show home. No husband or children to mess it up. Louisa opened the heavy wooden gate, manoeuvred Noah’s pram through and closed it behind her before walking down the side of the house to the back entrance. It was easier to get the pram through the patio doors at the rear. She hadn’t called ahead, so she hoped Tiff hadn’t left yet – she couldn’t remember if it was her yoga day.

  ‘Well, this a lovely surprise,’ Tiff said as she slid the patio doors fully open. ‘A bit early for you.’ She smiled, her wide grin revealing perfectly whitened, straight teeth.

  ‘Yeah, hope you don’t mind. I just had to get out of the house for a bit, and walking seems to be the only thing that keeps Noah quiet.’

  Tiff crouched down to peek inside the pram. ‘Aw, he’s getting bigger. It’s all that good milk he’s getting.’

  ‘Not sure he is getting enough milk, actually.’ Now Louisa was inside her best friend’s house, she let her guard down. Without even realising she felt sad, tears began to trickle down her face.

  ‘Oh, lovely. Come here.’ Tiff enveloped Louisa in a tight hug, rocking her gently. This only added to Louisa’s unexpected outpouring of tears and suddenly she was sobbing.

  ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’ Her voice was muffled in Tiff’s white T-shirt.

  ‘Baby blues, love. They’ll pass. Come on, let’s get you a coffee.’

  Louisa left Noah, who was thankfully still asleep despite the movement of the pram ceasing, and followed Tiff into her huge kitchen, wiping her tears with her jumper sleeve as she walked.

  ‘Here.’ Tiff handed Louisa a small cube of coloured tissues. Louisa took a few sheets and swiped them across her nose, annoyed with herself for crying the second she’d walked in. She watched through tingling eyes as her friend of eight years filled the see-through kettle with bottled water – she didn’t trust tap water, convinced she’d get cancer from drinking it – and stared at the blue light radiating through the liquid.

  ‘So—’ Tiff turned to look at her ‘—I take it you’re not sleeping, looking at those bags.’

  Louisa couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Hah! Thanks, I feel better already!’

  ‘Sorry. I’d be a total mess if I were you. If I don’t get at least eight hours a night I’m a total bitch and I’d look like something from a horror movie.’

  ‘I doubt that, Tiff.’ She looked down at the scrunched ball of soggy tissue in her hand.

  ‘It’s a good job it doesn’t happen often, I can tell you.’

  The kettle clicked off, and Tiff busied herself making the two coffees. Louisa glanced around the kitchen. Her whole downstairs would fit in this space. Her thoughts turned to the text message, and how she could bring it up without making herself sound distrustful of her friend. Her only friend. Well, the only one that counted, anyway – she knew lots of people: colleagues from the accountancy firm she worked for, other mums of kids Emily’s age, and now some mums from her antenatal and baby groups. But she didn’t socialise with them. She wasn’t like Tiff, who had dozens of close friends and revelled in moving in different social circles. That would only stress Louisa. Keeping a single friend was difficult enough for her, always had been.

  ‘Any goss?’ Louisa asked. It was the best way of getting Tiff chatting, so that she could find an opportunity to slip in her question.

  ‘Ooh, well, yes, actually!’ Tiff planted the mugs on two glass coasters and flounced away, disappearing through the double doors that led to the lounge. She returned, laptop in her hands. ‘Did you see this?’ Tiff twisted the screen to face Louisa. Sarah Weaver’s Facebook profile was displayed.

  ‘Oh, what’s going on with her?’ Louisa squinted at the page as Tiff reached around the laptop and scrolled down to Sarah’s latest status update.

  ‘Life is too short to be with people who hold you back. Embrace change. Don’t be afraid to turn the page of your own story or you’ll never reach the next chapter.’

  ‘Okay, it’s a bit deep – but I don’t understand, what’s wrong with it? It’s just some motivational quote.’

  ‘Haven’t you been keeping up? Don’t you realise what this means?’

  Louisa sighed. Keeping up with Facebook wasn’t something that had occurred to her during the last three months of sleep-deprived baby tasks. She hadn’t been that great with social media prior to Noah’s birth, but the most she used the internet for at the moment was searching for ‘how to prevent colic’ or ‘tricks to make him sleep like a baby’. As well as the chat rooms on Mumsnet – they were her current lifeline. Not the goings-on with friends-who-weren’t-even-real-friends on bloody Facebook. If it wasn’t for Tiff having set up her Facebook profile in the first place, she’d never have bothered with it. Fake lives and fake friends were not her thing.

  ‘It’s not something I’ve been compelled to do, no. I’ve been a little preoccupied …’

  ‘Well, yes, I guess. You are useless at posting anyway, and you never respond to my posts, even if I tag you.’

  ‘Sorry.’ It was quicker and easier to apologise rather than get into a debate about the negative aspects of splashing your life online.

  ‘Not to worry. Anyway, I digress. Back to Sarah. After being “found out” last month, she’s been keeping a low profile. But then, this. It has to mean she’s still seeing Mark, doesn’t it? We’re all going to the school fundraiser on Wednesday evening, so no doubt I will find out more then.’ Tiff looked pleased with herself. She and Sarah had history and it was no secret they’d clashed over who was better at organising village events – whether it was for the primary school, the cottage garden society show or the church fund, Tiff liked doing it all. Without much help. And certainly not from Sarah Weaver, who she viewed as a nuisance and someone who put barriers up where there shouldn’t be any (even if she was right). Tiff liked to think of herself as THE fundraising organiser of the village – the best and only ‘go-to’ person there was. Anything that put Sarah, her main competition to this title, in a poor light was a good outcome as far as she was concerned. So, if there were rumours, Tiff wasn’t likely to do anything other than fan the flames.

  Despite Tiff not having any children, let alone at the school, she’d managed to get in with the head teacher by volunteering to read with some of the younger pupils. Louisa suspected that Tiff’s stated motive for doing it – so she could organise events – was only part of the reason. From some of the conversations they’d had over the years, Louisa deduced that Tiff regretted her decision not to have a family and now believed this was her way of being a part of something she felt she was missing out on. The fact she could be so pushy, and even hoity about it, always came as a surprise to Louisa.

  She often wondered how they’d become such good friends. They’d met at a mutual friend’s wedding eight years ago and somehow just clicked. As unlikely a friendship as it was, and a total surprise to Brian, they’d remained close ever since. Maybe it was because Louisa posed no threat to Tiff’s aspirations: Louisa was never going to want to be an organiser of anything because she didn’t even like events or parties. If she was coerced into going to one, she’d be the person keeping quiet in the corner of the room, drinking an orange juice and looking lost. Ti
ff was welcome to the attention.

  Louisa was suddenly aware she was meant to be offering an answer – responding to Tiff’s assumptions about Sarah’s extramarital affair in the way her friend wanted her to. As this finally sank in, Louisa realised it gave her an opportunity to bring up the real reason she’d visited today.

  ‘Let me get this right,’ Louisa said. ‘You think Sarah has been having an affair with Mark – her best friend’s husband?’

  ‘Er … yes! I know you’ve been off the scene for a bit, but how come you’ve missed all of that? It’s not like we live in a big village – it’s tiny, and everyone knows everyone. I don’t know, Louisa – sometimes you disappoint me.’ She shook her head. ‘And anyway, I thought we talked about this last time we had coffee?’

  ‘I don’t remember …’

  ‘Baby brain,’ Tiff mocked. ‘Anyway, how evil is that?’

  This was Louisa’s chance to mention the text. But with Tiff’s obvious distaste for what Sarah had done, why then would she be doing the same to Louisa? Although, it was always easier to judge someone else’s actions rather than your own. And she may only be reacting to this because it was Sarah, not because she actually felt it was evil.

  Louisa took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, that’s awful. Who would cheat with their best friend’s husband?’ She stared into Tiff’s deep-blue eyes, expecting to see a hint of guilt.

  ‘A bitch, Louisa. A total bitch, that’s who,’ Tiff said vehemently.

  ‘You’d never do that to me, would you?’

  The burst of laughter made Louisa jump. For a moment she was puzzled – she hadn’t realised she’d said the words out loud, only thought them.

  ‘What? God, of course not. And, you know, it’s not as if Brian is my type.’ She threw her head back and carried on laughing.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Louisa put her mug down hard on the coaster. She’d managed to go from mistrust to indignation in a beat.

  ‘You’re serious,’ Tiff said. The laughter stopped, her smile disappearing. ‘I’m confused, Lou. What’s up with you?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m just hormonal. It’s nothing.’

  ‘No, go on. It’s obviously something or you wouldn’t be reacting in this way.’

  ‘I feel bad now. I – I shouldn’t have looked …’

  ‘Looked at what?’ A mask of concern darkened Tiff’s face. Louisa regretted saying anything, but now she’d come this far she may as well continue.

  ‘A text. On Brian’s phone. He’s been weird lately, acting suspiciously, on the bloody mobile all the time. All hush-hush stuff. I thought he must be having an affair …’ Louisa looked up at Tiff, her face stony. ‘Maybe it’s with Sarah.’ Louisa gave a nervous laugh. But it was too late to make jokes – Tiff knew what she was getting at.

  ‘No. Not Sarah. But not me either. Not anyone, Lou. He only loves you.’ Her voice was cool.

  Louisa swallowed hard. ‘Why are you arranging to meet then? Friday, you said in the text.’

  Tiff got up and walked around the kitchen island to Louisa.

  ‘Look, Lou,’ Tiff said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Even if Brian was my type, I’d never cross that line. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a husband-snatcher. And I would never go after my best friend’s husband. I’m going to put this down to your sleep-deprived state – and your loopy hormones, like you said – and try not to be deeply hurt that you’d even think such a thing. Now, how about another coffee?’ Her hand slipped from Louisa’s shoulder as she straightened and moved away.

  Louisa frowned. Tiff hadn’t denied the text, although she’d put up a convincing argument about how she wouldn’t have an affair with Brian. Because of her reaction Louisa didn’t feel she could carry on the conversation or ask anything more about Friday – not without alienating her further.

  There was something more, though, she could sense it.

  Louisa realised she only half-believed her best friend. And that didn’t sit well at all.

  5

  THE REQUEST

  Thursday p.m.

  Louisa awoke with her head and torso slumped over her lap. She straightened, taking a deep breath as she looked round the room. She was in Noah’s nursery, in the chair.

  Her heart gave a jolt. She’d been feeding Noah.

  She looked down. He was quiet. Still. Cradled in her arms. She’d fallen asleep over him.

  Louisa shook him gently.

  Nothing.

  She jumped up, holding Noah upright.

  A sharp cry.

  For a moment she was relieved. But the cry was her own.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Brian crashed through the door, hair ruffled, his face ashen.

  ‘No – ah …’ Louisa gasped for air, holding the limp baby up towards her husband.

  ‘What? What about him. He’s quiet, Lou, leave him to sleep.’ Brian’s brow was furrowed.

  ‘I – I was feeding him, I fell asleep – he’s – he’s not breathing, Brian!’

  Brian hit the light switch. A soft yellow illumination filled the small room.

  ‘Louisa.’ He reached out and took her arms. ‘Louisa, he’s just asleep—’

  ‘No. I squashed him, look …’ Louisa was afraid to gaze down again, fearful of seeing the damage she’d done. But suddenly her arms felt light.

  She looked down.

  Noah wasn’t in them.

  ‘You must’ve been asleep and dreamt it, Lou. He’s fine. He’s in his cot, and he’s breathing. I promise.’ Brian pulled Louisa gently towards the cot and placed her shaking hand on Noah’s chest. ‘See?’

  Louisa’s breathing slowed as she felt the steady rise and fall.

  Tears of relief slipped down her cheeks. It hadn’t felt like a dream. She’d been certain he was in her arms.

  ‘Come to bed.’ Brian’s voice – soft, coaxing – relaxed her.

  Louisa could only nod as Brian took her hand and gently guided her to their room. She climbed into bed. But she didn’t fall asleep again. A coil of fear remained – an ache, a pain she couldn’t rid herself of – the question of whether she’d hallucinated purely because of sleep deprivation lay heavy in her exhausted mind.

  She waited for Brian’s deep guttural snoring to start, then she crept out of bed.

  Her online search yielded a long list of hits. Louisa’s anxiety at what had happened – her belief she’d suffocated Noah when he wasn’t even in her arms despite her eyes telling her otherwise – lessened slightly. It seemed hallucinations were one of the most common effects of lack of sleep. One article mentioned that the effects of sleep deprivation could mimic mental illness.

  Louisa began to panic that having Noah, and the lack of sleep that came with him, might have triggered her old problem. Or was the article right – was she merely experiencing the effects of not sleeping? She didn’t want to think about it. Louisa closed Google and was about to log into Mumsnet, but then decided Facebook might take her mind off things more. Thinking about what Tiff had said about Sarah, and the fact Louisa had never responded to being tagged, she thought now was as good a time as any to catch up. She may even find evidence of something going on between Tiff and Brian. They were both aware she didn’t really use Facebook and therefore would be unlikely to spot anything untoward – they may have taken advantage of that.

  After a few failed attempts at logging in, Louisa finally recalled her ‘easy-to-remember’ password that Tiff had set for her and the homepage popped up. She immediately searched Tiff’s and Brian’s profiles. There were a few ‘likes’ – and Brian had commented on Tiff’s last profile picture she uploaded – simply saying ‘lovely’ – but surely that was nothing to worry about. She scrolled through the last two weeks of status updates, new photos and every comment on Tiff’s account, checking to see if Brian had said anything inappropriate. Then she did the same on Brian’s. Even though she was analysing everything as if under a microscope, she couldn’t find anything that looked suspicious in t
erms of them having an affair.

  She then clicked on to Sarah’s profile. At first glance, her life looked perfect. Every photo Sarah posted showed smiling faces; happy families – on outings, all sitting around the table having a family meal, the kids all behaving. The picture of perfection – then she did the dirty? Facebook is a lie, Louisa concluded. In fact, she would go as far as saying it was evil. The fakeness appalled her. It was why she kept off it, although, deep down she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

  As she moved the cursor to close it down, vowing to herself never to go back on the site, Louisa’s attention was caught by the number beside the miniature world icon on the top right of her page. Thirty notifications.

  Ignore them.

  It’s not like she had tons of friends – real or otherwise – so despite a long absence she hadn’t expected to see so many notifications.

  Louisa relinquished and clicked on them.

  Her breath ceased for a few seconds. Every one of them was from a single source, and it was not Tiff, as she’d expected. And all but one of them was the same.

  Oliver Dunmore invited you to join the group Exeter College Leavers 1997

  The newest notification was the only one that was different.

  You joined the group Exeter College Leavers 1997

  How had she joined? She hadn’t accepted the invitation.

  Oliver was not a person she wished to remember, and neither was her time at Exeter College. Louisa’s head swam.

  She slammed the laptop lid closed.

  6

  THE OFFER

  Friday a.m.

  ‘You look dreadful. You can’t go on with this little sleep, Lou.’ Brian’s opening line as he walked into the kitchen holding Noah was an unnecessary statement.

  ‘I know that. I’m really feeling it. Last night scared me.’