Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘The producer was talking about a cookery book,’ he told her while he worked. ‘Well, more a lifestyle-type book. Like the blog, but more so, linking it to the series. It would make sense, and of course they’ve got stills they’ve taken while I’ve been working so it should be quite easy.’

  So he wouldn’t need her. She stifled her disappointment, because she was pleased for him anyway. ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘I thought so, too.’

  He was still chopping and fiddling. ‘Is it going to be long? I’m starving,’ she said plaintively.

  ‘Five minutes, tops. Here, eat these. New amuse-bouche ideas for the restaurant. Tell me what you think.’

  ‘Yummy,’ she said, and had another, watching him as she ate the delicious little morsels. The steak was flash-fried, left to rest in the marinade while he blanched fresh green beans, and then he crushed the new potatoes, criss-crossed them with beans, thinly sliced the steak and piled it on before drizzling the marinade over the top.

  ‘There. Never let it be said that I don’t feed you properly. Wine?’

  He handed her a glass without waiting for her reply, and she sipped it and frowned.

  ‘Is this one of the Valtieri wines?’

  ‘Yes. It goes well, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Mmm. It’s gorgeous. So’s the steak. It’s like butter it’s so tender.’

  ‘What can I say? I’m just a genius,’ he said, grinning, and hitched up on the stool next to her, and it would have been so natural, so easy to lean towards him and kiss that wicked smile.

  She turned her attention back to her food, and ignored her clamouring body. Let it clamour. They had to play it his way, and if that meant she couldn’t push him, so be it. He was turning his life around, getting it back on track, and she wasn’t going to do anything to derail his rehabilitation. Or her own.

  And Leo was definitely derailing material.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked when she’d finished the crème brûlée he’d had left over from filming today.

  ‘Please.’

  And just because they could, just because it was Leo’s favourite thing in the world to do at that time of day, they took it outside on the deck and sat side by side on the steps to drink it.

  He’d turned the lights down in the kitchen, so they were sitting staring out across the darkened garden at the moonlit sea. Lights twinkled on it here and there, as the lights had twinkled in Tuscany, only here they were on the sea, and the smell of salt was in the air, the ebbing waves tugging on the shingle the only sound to break the silence.

  She leant against him, resting her shoulder against his, knowing it was foolish, tired of fighting it, and with a shaky sigh he set his cup down, turned his head towards her and searched her eyes, his arm drawing her closer.

  ‘Are we going to be OK, Amy?’ he asked, as if he’d read her mind. His voice was soft, a little gruff. Perhaps a little afraid. She could understand that.

  ‘I don’t know. I want us to be, but all the time there’s this threat hanging over us, the possibility that it won’t, that it’s just another mistake for both of us. And I don’t want that. I want to be able to sit with you in the dark and talk, like we’ve done before a million times, and not feel this...crazy fear stalking me that it could be the last time.’

  She took a sip of her coffee, but it tasted awful so she put it down.

  ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘I’m tired and I can’t do this any more. Pretend there’s nothing going on, nothing between us except an outgrown friendship that neither of us can let go of. It’s more than that, so much more than that, but I don’t know if I can dare believe in it, and I don’t think you can, either.’

  She got to her feet, and he stood up and pulled her gently into his arms, cradling her against his chest. ‘I’m sorry. Go on, go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  He bent and brushed his lips against her cheek, the stubble teasing her skin and making her body ache for more, and then he let her go.

  She heard him come upstairs a few minutes later. He hesitated at her door and she willed him to come in, but he didn’t, and she rolled to her side and shut her eyes firmly and willed herself to sleep instead.

  * * *

  The film crew interrupted their breakfast the next morning, but she didn’t mind. The place stank of coffee, and she couldn’t get Ella out of the house fast enough.

  She strapped her into the car seat, pulled off the drive and went into town. They were running short of her follow-on milk formula, so she popped into the supermarket and picked up some up, and then she headed for the seafront. They could go to the beach, she thought, and then they passed a café and the smell of coffee hit her like a brick.

  She pressed her hand to her mouth and walked on, her footsteps slowing to a halt as soon as they were out of range. No. She couldn’t be. But she could see Isabelle’s face so clearly, hear her saying that she couldn’t stand the smell of coffee, and last night it had tasted vile.

  But—how? She was on the Pill. She’d taken it religiously.

  Except for the first day in Tuscany, the Sunday morning. She’d forgotten it then, taken it in the afternoon, about four. Nine hours late. And it was only the mini-pill, because she and Nick had planned to start a family anyway, and a month or so earlier wouldn’t have mattered. And she’d hardly seen Nick for weeks before the wedding. Which meant if she was pregnant, it was definitely Leo’s baby.

  She turned the buggy round, crossed the road and went to the chemist’s, bought a pregnancy test with a gestation indicator and went to another café that didn’t smell so much and had decent loos. She took Ella with her into the cubicle which doubled as disabled and baby changing, so there was room for the buggy, and she did the test, put the lid back on the wand and propped it up, and watched her world change for ever.

  * * *

  He hadn’t seen them all day.

  The filming had gone well and the crew had packed up early, but Amy and Ella still weren’t home.

  Perhaps she’d taken Ella to her mother’s, or to a friend’s house? Probably. It was nearly time for Ella to eat, so he knew they wouldn’t be long, but he was impatient.

  He’d been thinking about what Amy had said last night, about their lives being on hold while they gave themselves time, and he’d decided he didn’t want more time. He wanted Amy, at home with him, with Ella, in his bed, in his life. For ever.

  Finally the gravel crunched. He heard her key in the door, and felt the fizz of anticipation in his veins, warring with an undercurrent of dread, just in case. What would she say? Would it be yes? Please, God, not no—

  ‘Hi. Have you had a good day?’ he asked, taking Ella from her with a smile and snuggling her close.

  ‘Busy,’ she said, heading into the kitchen with a shopping bag. ‘Where are the film crew?’

  ‘We finished early. So what did you do all day?’

  ‘Oh, this and that. We went to town and picked up some formula, but it was a bit hot so we went to Mum’s and had lunch in the garden and stayed there the rest of the day.’

  ‘I thought you might have been there. I was about to ring you. Has she eaten?’

  ‘Not recently. She had a snack at three. Are you OK to take over? I’ve got a few things I need to do.’

  He frowned. He couldn’t really put his finger on it, but she didn’t sound quite right. ‘Sure, you go ahead. Supper at seven?’

  ‘If you like. Call me when you’re done, OK? I might have a shower, it’s been a hot day.’

  She ran upstairs, and he took Ella through to the kitchen, put her in her high chair and gave her her supper. She fed herself and made an appalling mess, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was Amy, and what was wrong with her, because something was and he was desperately hoping it wasn’t a continuation of what she’d s
aid last night.

  What if she turned him down? Walked away and left him?

  On autopilot, he wiped Ella’s hands and took her up to bath her.

  * * *

  ‘Amy?’

  ‘Yes?’

  He opened her bedroom door and found her sitting up on her bed, the laptop open on her lap. She shut it and looked up at him. ‘Is supper ready?’

  ‘It won’t take long. Can you come down? I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, but she looked tense and he wondered why.

  ‘Can I go first?’ she said, and he hesitated for a moment then nodded.

  ‘Sure. Do you want a drink?’

  ‘Just water.’

  He filled a tumbler from the fridge and handed it to her, and she headed outside to the garden, perching on the step in what had become her usual place, and he crossed the deck and sat down beside her.

  She drew her breath in as if she was going to speak, then let it out again and bit her lip.

  ‘Amy? What is it?’

  She sucked in another shaky breath, turned to look at him and said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

  He felt the blood drain from his head, and propped his elbows on shaking knees, the world slowing so abruptly that thoughts and feelings crashed into each other and slid away again before he could grasp them.

  ‘How?’ he asked her, his voice taut. He raised his head and stared at her. ‘How, Amy? You’re on the Pill—I know that, I watched you take it every morning.’

  ‘Not every morning,’ she said heavily. ‘The first day, I forgot. I didn’t take it until the afternoon.’

  ‘And that’s enough?’

  ‘Apparently. I didn’t even think about it, because it didn’t matter any more. I wasn’t on my honeymoon, and we weren’t—’

  He was trying to assimilate that, and then another thought, much harder to take, brought bile to his throat.

  ‘How do you know it’s mine?’ he asked, and his voice sounded cold to his ears, harsh, uncompromising. ‘How do you know it isn’t...?’ He couldn’t even bring himself to say Nick’s name out loud, but it echoed between them in the silence.

  ‘Because it’s the only time I’ve taken it late, and because of this.’

  She pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to him. A plastic thing, pen-sized or a little more, with a window on one side. And in the window was the word ‘pregnant’ and beneath it ‘2-3’.

  A pregnancy test, he realised. And 2-3?

  ‘What does this mean?’ he asked, pointing to it with a finger that wasn’t quite steady.

  ‘Two to three weeks since conception.’

  The weekend they’d been alone in the palazzo. So it was his baby. Then another hideous thought occurred to him.

  ‘When did you do this test?’

  ‘This morning,’ she told him, her voice drained and lifeless.

  ‘Are you sure? Are you sure you didn’t do it a week or two ago?’

  Her eyes widened, and the colour drained from her face.

  ‘You think I’d lie to you about something as fundamental as this?’

  ‘You wouldn’t be the first.’

  She stared at him for what seemed like for ever, and then she got to her feet.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Home. To my mother.’

  ‘Not to Nick?’

  She turned back to him, her eyes flashing with fury. ‘Why would I go running to Nick to tell him I’ve been stupid enough to let you get me pregnant?’ she asked him bluntly. ‘If you could really think that then you don’t know me at all. It’s none of Nick’s business. It’s my business, and it could have been yours, but if you really think I could lie to you about something so precious, so amazing, so beautiful as our child, then I don’t think we have anything left to say to each other. You wanted my terrifying honesty. Well, this is it. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but I am not Lisa!’

  He heard her footsteps across the decking, the vibrations going through him like an earthquake, then the sound of the front door slamming and the gravel crunching under her tyres as she drove off.

  He stared blindly after her as the sound of her car faded into the evening, drowned out by the cries of gulls and the soft crash of the waves on the shore below, and then like a bolt of lightning the pain hit him squarely in the chest.

  * * *

  Her mother was wonderful and didn’t say a thing, just heard her out, hugged her while she cried and made them both tea.

  ‘Do you know how wonderful you are?’ she asked, and her mother’s face crumpled briefly.

  ‘Don’t be silly. I’m just your mother. You’ll know what I mean, soon enough. It’ll make sense.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I already know. I’m not going to see Ella again, Mum. Never.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘No, I won’t. Or Leo.’ Her voice cracked on his name, and she bit her lips until she could taste blood.

  ‘That’s a little difficult. He has a right to see his child, you know.’

  ‘Except he doesn’t believe it is his child.’

  ‘Are you absolutely certain that it is?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, sighing heavily. ‘Nick was away, wasn’t he, for five weeks before the wedding. I only saw him a couple of times, and we didn’t...’

  She couldn’t finish that, not to her mother, which was ridiculous under the circumstances, but she didn’t need to say any more.

  ‘You ought to eat, darling.’

  ‘I couldn’t. I just feel sick.’

  ‘Carbs,’ her mother said, and produced a packet of plain rich tea biscuits. ‘Here,’ she said, thrusting one in her hand. ‘Dunk it in your tea.’

  * * *

  Was it really his? Could this really be happening to him again?

  He’d sat outside for hours until the shock wore off and was replaced by a sickening emptiness.

  The pregnancy test, he thought. Check it out. He went up to her room and opened her laptop, and was confronted by a page of images of him. Images he’d never seen. Ones she’d lied about deleting. Why? Because she loved him? And he loved her. He could see it clearly in the pictures, and he knew it in his heart.

  He searched for the pregnancy test and came up with it.

  As accurate as an ultrasound.

  Which meant if she had just done it, the baby was his—and he’d accused her of lying, of trying to pass another man’s baby off as his.

  And he knew then, with shocking certainty, that she hadn’t lied to him. Not about that. As she’d pointed out at several thousand decibels, she wasn’t Lisa. Not in any way. And he owed her an apology.

  A lifetime of apologies, starting now.

  But he couldn’t leave Ella behind, so he lifted her out of her cot, put her in the car and drove to Jill’s. Amy’s car was on the drive, and he went to the front door and rang the bell.

  ‘Leo.’

  ‘I’m an idiot,’ he said, and he felt his eyes filling and blinked hard. ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Where’s Ella?’

  ‘In the car, asleep.’

  ‘Put her in the sitting room. Amy’s in her room.’

  He laid her on the sofa next to Jill, went upstairs to Amy’s room and took a deep breath.

  ‘Go away, Leo,’ she said, before he even knocked, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

  He opened the door, ducked to avoid the flying missile she hurled at him and walked towards her, heart pounding.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘No. I’ve come to apologise. I’ve been an idiot. I know you’re not Lisa, and I know you wouldn’t lie to me about anything important. You’ve never really lied to me, not even when you knew the truth was going to hurt me.
And I know you’re not lying now.’ He took another step towards her. ‘Can we talk?’

  ‘What is there to say?’

  ‘What I wanted to say to you when you got home. That I love you. That I don’t want to wait any longer, because I do know you, Amy, I know you through and through, and you know me. We haven’t changed that much, not deep down where it matters, and I know we’ve got what it takes. I was just hiding from it because I was afraid, because I’ve screwed up one marriage, but I’m not going to screw up another.’

  ‘Marriage?’ She stared at him blankly. ‘I hate to point this out to you, but we aren’t exactly married. We aren’t exactly anything.’

  ‘No. But we should be. We haven’t lost our friendship, Amy, but it has changed. Maybe the word is evolved. Evolved into something stronger. Something that will stay the course. We were both just afraid to try again, afraid to trust what was under our noses all the time. We should have had more faith in each other and in ourselves.’

  He took her hand and wrapped it in his, hanging on for dear life, because he couldn’t let her go. Let them go.

  ‘I love you, Amy. I’ll always love you. Marry me. Me and Ella, and you and our baby. We can be a proper family.’

  * * *

  Amy sat down on the edge of her bed, her knees shaking.

  ‘Are you serious? Leo, you were horrible to me!’

  ‘I know, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I was just shocked, and there was a bit of déjà vu going on, but I should have listened to you.’

  ‘You should. But I knew you wouldn’t, because of Lisa—’

  ‘Shh,’ he said, touching a finger to her lips. ‘Lisa’s gone, Amy. This is between you and me now, you and me and our baby.’

  ‘And Ella,’ she said.

  ‘And Ella. Of course and Ella. She won’t be an only child any more. I was so worried about that.’

  ‘You said it would be a cold day in hell before you got married again,’ she reminded him, and his eyes filled with sadness.

  ‘I was wrong. It felt like a cold day in hell when you walked out of my life. Come back to me, Amy? Please? I need you. I can’t live without you, without your friendship, your support, your understanding. Your atrocious sense of humour. Your untidiness. The fact that you do lie to me, just a little, on occasions.’