The Missing Wife

by Sam Carrington

  ‘Are you coming in?’ Louisa asked as the driver stopped in front of her house.

  ‘Looking like this?’ Tiff made a circular motion around her face with her finger. ‘Er, no. I’ll ring you later.’

  Louisa could’ve done with the back-up. What if she’d behaved badly last night? Brian might be mad at her. And if Tiff hadn’t ‘kept track’ of her, that must mean she hadn’t been in the main room with the others. She hesitated on the doorstep, a sense of dread debilitating any progress. Noah’s crying breached the door. One night away really hadn’t been enough. She could turn around now, leave and never return.

  The naivety of her own thoughts irritated her. She couldn’t run away. Aside from not wanting to hurt her family, she didn’t even know what she’d be running from.

  She pushed the front door open and walked through the hallway to find Brian pacing the lounge, Noah wailing uncontrollably in his arms.

  ‘Oh, good!’ he shouted above the noise. ‘I wasn’t sure what else I could do.’

  The screaming was already splitting her head.

  ‘Has he had the whole bottle?’ She moved gingerly forwards.

  ‘Yes, two, actually.’

  ‘Oh. Well I expect it’s wind then if he’s had that much.’

  ‘It is two o’clock, Lou – he would’ve usually had two feeds by now, wouldn’t he?’

  Yes. Of course he would’ve. Louisa had forgotten the time.

  ‘Pass him to me.’ Louisa took Noah from Brian and placed him over her shoulder and began jiggling him about. She looked into Brian’s eyes, trying to gauge his mood.

  ‘Are you still mad at me?’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t realise I was mad at you to start with.’ She frowned.

  Brian lowered his head. ‘Tiff reckons you were just overwhelmed by it all but I saw something else in your eyes when you shouted at me – that I’d made a huge mistake throwing a party.’

  Louisa swallowed hard. Another part of the night she didn’t remember. She was scared to ask what exactly he thought he’d seen in her eyes. Noah had quietened down despite his awkward position – his top half slumped over her shoulder so all she could see was his bottom and legs – and she swayed gently to keep him that way.

  ‘I was overwhelmed, yes. If it’d been people I knew well, I might’ve coped. But all those, well, strangers. It was a little much. Sorry if I came across as ungrateful, though. I know you and Tiff had the best intentions. And I certainly slept well.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess that was the goal really. That’s why I tried not to take it to heart.’

  ‘Take what to heart?’ The pulse in her neck was no doubt perceptible; what else had she said and done?

  ‘When you left early. One minute you were saying all you needed was fresh air, then you disappeared without even saying anything to the guests. Or us. Emily was pretty put out. But I explained that you were exhausted, and the party had taken it out of you. That you needed undisturbed sleep more than a surprise fortieth. Which, of course, was what Emily had said to start with. Sorry, I should’ve listened to our daughter.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Everyone must’ve thought me so rude.’ Her mind was dazed, confused at this new information. ‘Did you come by my room? Check up on me?’

  ‘No. I thought it best to leave you alone. And anyway, Oliver said he’d seen you going into the accommodation entrance, so I knew you were all right.’

  ‘Oliver saw me? Did he speak to you then?’

  ‘Yeah. Nice guy actually. We chatted for ages after you’d gone.’

  Great, her ex-boyfriend and her husband getting buddy-buddy. That wasn’t what Louisa needed to hear.

  ‘Really? I take it he didn’t happen to mention we dated back in college then.’ Louisa thought that would produce shock from Brian – even though it was years ago, she imagined he’d feel curious about an ex showing up, maybe even a bit jealous – but his expression didn’t waver.

  ‘Yeah, he did say, but he brushed over it really – it was more in passing than anything. I don’t remember you ever mentioning him, so I guess you didn’t date for long, that it wasn’t anything serious?’

  It was a loaded question. If she said, ‘no, not long, not serious,’ Brian would wonder why Oliver had been bothered enough to attend her party. On the other hand, if she said, ‘two years, and quite serious,’ he’d probe further – want to know more details about their relationship. Oliver’s motive for turning up to her fortieth birthday would also be more thoroughly scrutinised. Louisa decided it was best to do what Oliver had obviously done – brush over it.

  ‘We were teenagers, having a wild time at college – you know what it was like back then. How long or serious was any relationship? It was so long ago I can barely remember.’ Louisa wiped the beads of sweat from her top lip then quickly repositioned Noah, lowering him from her shoulder and nestling her face into his.

  ‘True,’ Brian said, not appearing to notice her discomfort, ‘and he didn’t seem the type to hold on to the past or be someone who’d never got over his first love.’ Brian laughed. Louisa almost asked what he did consider Oliver’s ‘type’ to be, and how he could tell from one conversation. She thought better of it, instead shining the spotlight elsewhere.

  ‘What about his wife – what was she like?’

  Brian shrugged. ‘Wife? He didn’t mention a wife.’

  ‘Well, she was with him. At the party.’

  ‘Didn’t see him with anyone. Well, not in a couple-type way. He was talking to lots of people. Seemed to take a shine to Tiff …’

  Who didn’t, Louisa thought. In her hungover state, the complexities of the evening were too much to decipher. As Noah was quiet, Louisa thought she’d take the opportunity to lie down with him. If she had a nap, things would be clearer afterwards. For the moment, Louisa had no idea what on earth had happened at her party.

  But something felt off.

  12

  THE MESSAGE

  Lovely to celebrate your milestone birthday with you last night. Being with you brought back so many memories. Can we meet? I need to see you. Something happened. Oliver xx

  Louisa was sitting on the double bed, her back against the headboard and Noah asleep on a pillow on her lap. She stared at her phone in her hand. She’d reread the Facebook message several times since opening it an hour ago, each time attaching a different meaning to it.

  The worst of those meanings was that she had gone back to her room, as Brian had told her, and Oliver had followed her in and they’d slept together.

  Louisa prayed that was the worst-case scenario – and the wrong one. But what other meaning could ‘something happened’ possibly have?

  Why the hell had Brian taken her ex-boyfriend’s word that she’d made it safely into the accommodation building? Granted it was only yards from the pub, but still. She was clearly drunk; she’d have expected Brian to check up on her himself, not to take some bloke’s word for it. Someone he’d only just met. This was his fault.

  But whosever fault it was, Oliver’s words now glared at her accusingly.

  Delete it. Don’t respond.

  She didn’t delete it, closing the Facebook app on her phone instead. She’d block him later, so he couldn’t contact her again. She never should’ve bothered logging into Facebook; she knew full well it was a bad idea the first time, and why was she looking again now? She should delete her entire account and be done with it. But she’d read his message, and now she couldn’t unsee it. Whatever may have happened last night, it would’ve been a mistake. She’d been under the influence. Not only of drink, but of medication too. Unprescribed at that. Louisa tutted at her own stupidity. She’d only wanted to sleep, though. Who could blame her for that?

  Louisa wrote out a text to Tiff. She went around the houses a bit – first off asking how her head was, then moving on to mention the party before finally asking if she’d had any recollection of seeing where she went after going out for ‘fresh air’ and not returning. It seemed odd to Louisa tha
t she would say that and then not bother returning to the party. Unless she’d felt so ill she decided she’d be better off in her room.

  Yes, that had to be it. She was worrying over nothing. Having not set eyes on her for over twenty years, Oliver had no reason to lie about having seen her stumble into the entrance to the rooms. His message must be to do with something else.

  Either way, she knew she shouldn’t contact him. She was in a vulnerable position – an exhausted new mum, trying to cope with a baby as well as a teenager, hormones all over the shop. She feared it wouldn’t take much to fall under Oliver’s spell once more, and she had to avoid that at all costs.

  Remember, he left you. Left you alone to face the consequences.

  This thought, which appeared in her mind out of nowhere, made her legs go numb.

  The ding of a text sounded. Tiff.

  Feel like death. As far as my memory allows, though, it was a good party! That Oliver was a bit of a dish. Can’t believe you never mentioned him before! And no, I really don’t know where you disappeared to – last place I have a clear memory seeing you was the beer garden. But I only saw you from the window while I was chatting to some random, and you were with someone too, so I assumed you were OK. I’m sorry I was too far gone to come and find you. What a friend I am. Forgive me! xx

  She wasn’t any use then. If Tiff had said she’d been chatting to Oliver after Louisa had done a disappearing act, that might’ve put her mind at ease a bit; he couldn’t have been in two places at once. But no – some ‘random’. Louisa cursed Tiff again for going through her Facebook friends. It could’ve been anyone.

  Louisa carried the pillow with her sleeping baby on it to the nursery, placing it inside the cot. Carefully, she slipped Noah off and he gently rolled onto the mattress. Louisa let out her breath. He grumbled, wriggling a little, but then, thankfully, he settled. Transfer successful, she crept out of the room. Brian and Emily’s voices drifted up as Louisa hesitated on the stairs. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she caught the words ‘worried’ and ‘acting weird’. She turned and headed back to her bedroom.

  She couldn’t face her family right now.

  13

  THE SHOCK

  Monday – Day 3 post-party

  There’d been little mention of the party, or its aftermath, on Sunday. Louisa had managed to cook a roast chicken lunch while Brian took care of Noah. If nothing else, he seemed to be making more of an effort. Perhaps now his secret party organising was over, he’d be more attentive.

  Thankfully, now it was Monday, everything was back to normal. Brian left for his shift at 7 a.m. and Emily bolted out of the door, late, with a piece of cold toast in her hand at 8.10 a.m. The school bus would already be at the stop, but she always cut it fine and had only missed it once. That one time was awkward enough, though. Brian was at work, Tiff was unavailable, and Louisa had ended up paying for a taxi to get her to school. There’d been very few occasions in the past that Louisa regretted her decision not to drive and because her mum had been so involved when Emily was a baby, often taking them out, she hadn’t had reason to. Louisa had passed her test at seventeen but had only driven for just over a year – driving had never been something she’d felt confident doing.

  Now, the feeling of being restricted with a newborn and being stuck inside the house, or only able to venture within walking distance unless she wanted to chance public transport with her screaming baby, made her think she should’ve been braver. Too late now.

  The house was quiet and Louisa hoped she wasn’t jinxing it when she thought to herself that Noah had become more settled in the last few days. He definitely wasn’t crying as much. The break from her had done him good, clearly. She’d heard once that babies pick up on their mother’s moods, so it was likely he’d been distressed because Louisa was, and not the other way around. It was an interesting thought.

  Louisa downed her third coffee and stared out into the street from the lounge window. The caffeine content was the only reason she drank it; she didn’t care for its bitter taste. She had to stay alert today. No more memory lapses, no more panic about whether she’d fed Noah. She had an idea. Placing her coffee on the table, she got a pen and pad of paper from the table drawer and put the day and date, then listed times from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. in columns. Those were the times she’d be on her own today. Emily was going to her friend Evie’s straight from school to work on her science project, and Evie’s dad would drop her home after they’d eaten tea. Brian was due home between half five and six.

  Louisa put a tick next to 7 a.m. Noah hadn’t fed for very long – literally two minutes, which wasn’t usual – but he’d seemed satisfied after. She recorded that too. Doing this meant she’d keep on top of things and if her memory blurred, she had this written proof she’d fed him.

  All had gone well up until 2 p.m. Louisa cast her eyes down the paper at the ticks. Noah had fed three times. Each time for ten minutes from each breast. The length of time was definitely shortening; he either wasn’t taking as much, or she didn’t have as much to give and that’s why he was feeding more quickly. It had been such a long time since she’d fed Emily, she could no longer recall what her feeding patterns were like – maybe it was normal and she shouldn’t worry. Just in case, Louisa made a note on the paper to call the health visitor to discuss it. Although Noah seemed more content, that might be a bad thing coupled with not feeding enough. He could have something wrong with him.

  The ringing of the doorbell jolted her from her catastrophising. She stared down at her sleeping baby and considered ignoring the bell. Moving might disturb Noah, and as all good advice informed parents: never wake a sleeping baby. It rang again. She decided she’d answer in case it was a parcel, and shuffled to the edge of the sofa, slowly making her way to the door. If it was important, they’d wait.

  Through the textured glass, Louisa could only make out a large dark figure standing on her doorstep. Not someone holding a parcel, she noted. With Noah cradled in one arm, she opened the door tentatively with the other.

  A split second after seeing the person in front of her, Louisa’s brain caught up with itself and she recoiled. Instinct told her to close the door and lock it. Her heart couldn’t be so blunt.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ She shook her head slightly in disbelief that Oliver would be so bold. ‘Who told you where I live?’ If bloody Tiff had something to do with this, their friendship was going to come under some serious scrutiny. Regaining some composure, Louisa tilted her chin up as she waited for him to explain himself.

  ‘You didn’t reply to my message,’ he said, clearly disregarding her second question.

  ‘I don’t reply to lots of messages, but the sender rarely shows up at my door because of it.’ A surge of annoyance permeated her tone.

  Her curiosity at what his message had meant outweighed the warning signals. When it became clear he wasn’t going to respond to her comment, she continued.

  ‘I really shouldn’t invite you in.’ Louisa stuck her head outside, checking up and down the road. Oliver’s eyes followed hers.

  ‘I don’t think anyone is watching. You’re safe.’ He smiled.

  ‘Fine. Not for long though, you hear?’ She turned, placing Noah in the pram in the hallway before facing Oliver again.

  ‘Okay, Lou-Lou, anything you say.’

  She was transported back – seventeen again – staring into those hypnotic deep-brown eyes, her whole body filled with admiration and love; naive and completely trusting the gorgeous boy who made her stomach shake, her hands tremble, her heart flutter furiously each time he said her name.

  She must be careful now.

  Louisa stood aside, letting Oliver slide past her into her house.

  Into her life once more.

  14

  THE DISAPPEARANCE

  Louisa didn’t go back into the lounge; she didn’t want Oliver making himself too comfortable. Instead she showed him into the kitchen, indicating he could sit at
the table. On a hard, wooden chair. So much had been left unsaid since she’d last known him. Despite their proximity now, twenty-two years of nothing but absence separated them, and Louisa didn’t have a clue where to begin. She didn’t know what to say, how to behave. Did he expect her to be angry with him? Or pretend she didn’t remember the fact he’d left her?

  ‘I know it must be weird, me turning up out of the blue at your fortieth birthday party after all this time. Sorry for springing myself on you like that. I had tried to contact you before, you know.’

  ‘Oh, the Facebook group invites? Hmmm … No, Oliver, that really isn’t trying, is it? You only invited me recently, so what about the other twenty-odd years? Where were your efforts during that time?’

  ‘You’re angry with me. I can see that. But you know why I had to leave, Lou. I did it for you.’ He reached across the table, laying his hands on hers. She snatched them away, hot rods shooting through her. The man was deluded if he thought that leaving the girl who he told he would love forever was for her own benefit. Louisa balled her fists.

  ‘No, Oliver. I don’t think so.’

  Oliver’s eyebrows raised, then knitted together, his brow creasing. ‘Is that what you tell yourself?’ He shrugged. ‘If that’s how you made it through, then I guess that’s up to you.’

  Louisa was enraged at his attempt to wriggle out of being to blame for leaving her, but she wanted to move this on and, specifically, uncover precisely what had happened the night of her party.

  ‘Whatever. So anyway, what exactly is it that you want?’

  She didn’t expect his answer.

  ‘Melissa is missing.’ His eyes glistened with tears.

  For a second, Louisa struggled to make sense of his statement. Then, perhaps sensing her confusion, he added, ‘My wife, Melissa. I haven’t seen her since the party.’

  ‘Oh, my God, Oliver. Missing, like, need to call the police missing?’