Wife for Hire

by Dianne Blacklock

  Sam completed the ritual checking of Joshua’s pockets before she added his clothes to the washing machine. No matter that she asked him ad nauseam, no matter that she threatened him with worse and worse punishments, he still couldn’t get it through his apparently impervious skull that he needed to empty his pockets before discarding his clothes. And so notes from school were destroyed, coins got caught in the hose, and tissues disintegrated, spreading like confetti through the entire load. She reached into the pocket of his school trousers and felt something. As she withdrew it, Sam frowned at the small, sealed plastic packet for half a second before she got such a shock that she dropped it in the laundry tub.

  She reached for it gingerly. What was Josh doing with a condom? In his school shorts? Maybe it was just one of those things boys did, a badge of honour to flash around. Sam flinched. He was the same age that Jeff had been . . . Oh, this was too hard. Jeff should be involved in this. She’d bring it with her today and discuss what they should do about it.

  Sam closed the lid of the washing machine and walked out to the kitchen, tossing the condom in her handbag. She unplugged her mobile from its recharger and took her keys off the hook near the door. Jeff had suggested they meet at a local café, which didn’t bother her but it did seem a bit unnecessary. He could have just come here.

  Jeff was already seated at a table in the corner when Sam arrived. He looked nervous, she realised as she came closer.

  He stood up. ‘Hi, Sam. How are you?’

  ‘Fine thanks, Jeff. And you?’

  He nodded awkwardly, waiting for Sam to take her seat before he sat down again. A waitress came directly over and they both ordered coffee.

  ‘So what did you want to talk about, Jeff?’ Sam asked him, noting his reticence.

  ‘Oh, well, a few things,’ he said, avoiding eye contact.

  She watched him. He really was nervous. She probably should throw him a line about Christmas. But she didn’t know what to say. She would be happy to call it off altogether this year. That was the easiest solution as far as she was concerned.

  The waitress reappeared with their coffee and Jeff took a long gulp from his cup. He pushed it to one side and leaned forward, his elbows on the table and his arms crossed in front of him. Defences up, thought Sam, reading the body language.

  ‘I’m trying to do the right thing here, I really hope you’ll keep that in mind. This isn’t easy, but I thought I should tell you myself, before you heard it . . . some other way.’

  Sam wondered if her face had gone white, because it felt as though all the blood had drained down to her ankles. She couldn’t imagine what Jeff was going to say, but his demeanour was giving her the shivers.

  ‘Sam,’ he said carefully, pausing, watching her face closely.

  Oh, for Chrissakes just spit it out!

  ‘Jodi is pregnant.’

  Everything went weird all of a sudden, distorted. She could see Jeff, but it was like he was at the end of a tunnel. Her husband was going to be the father of someone else’s child. Someone she had never met. The café opened out to the street but Sam felt as though there was no air in here. The light around them had turned blue. Her eyes were stinging . . . Her throat was dry, but she couldn’t reach for the glass of water on the table . . . Her hands were trembling too much, she slipped them under her knees. She sat there like a child . . . a tiny child with no voice . . . no power . . .

  ‘Sam?’

  She couldn’t look at him. If she looked at him she might cry. She was even frightened to blink in case tears formed. He was speaking, but his voice felt like it was coming from far away down that tunnel.

  Not planned . . . few months . . . quite ill . . . June next year . . .

  Shut up. SHUT UP! she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t do that here. Ha! Now Sam understood why he wanted to meet in public. Less chance of a scene. And what had happened that other time? They’d ended up in bed. No, he clearly didn’t want to risk that again.

  Sam felt her breathing steady. She swallowed and her throat was not quite so dry. She reached one hand out towards the water glass, and it obeyed her, not trembling but picking up the glass and bringing it to her lips smoothly and without incident. The ice cubes clinked as she sipped on the cool water. She could do this. She’d just been pushed off a cliff without any warning, but she had managed to hang on and pull herself back to solid ground.

  She put the glass down on the table and looked up into Jeff’s eyes. He had changed. He was not her husband any more. He didn’t even look the same.

  ‘Does . . .’ Sam cleared her throat, ‘Jodi, have any other children?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, of course not.’

  She didn’t know why it was of course not. ‘Then she must be very happy.’

  Jeff shrugged. ‘Well, like I said, it wasn’t planned. It’s still a bit of a shock, to the both of us.’

  What, was he expecting sympathy now? Her condolences on the imminent demise of their cosy tête-à-tête? They had all the shit ahead of them, literally. Sleepless nights, colic, dirty nappies, and from what the kids had said, Jodi was not the type to handle it on her own as Sam had done. Jeff was in for a rude awakening.

  She considered him coolly. ‘I hope this isn’t going to affect the children.’

  ‘Of course it won’t. You know how much I love them, Sam. Nothing’s going to change.’

  ‘Well, of course things will change,’ she said calmly. ‘So you’re going to have to think about that and be prepared. You’ll lose them if you make them play second fiddle to a screaming baby.’

  Ooh, that was bitchy, but Sam couldn’t help herself. It seemed to give her strength. She could see Jeff taking it in, feeling the weight of it all. She did almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

  He sighed heavily. ‘There’s something else.’

  Sam couldn’t imagine that anything could be worse than what he had already told her. She took a sip of her coffee. ‘Go on.’

  He opened his mouth to speak, then he took another gulp from his cup. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and folded his arms in front of him, on the defensive again.

  ‘I think it’s time we got a divorce.’

  She was falling this time. Off the edge of that cliff, while Jeff stood laughing at her from above.

  No! don’t lose it, Sam. Think about it. He’s not your husband anyway. Not any more. Only on paper. It’s time to tear up the paper.

  She stared at her coffee cup. ‘Does she want to get married?’ It was too hard to say the woman’s name twice in the same conversation.

  Jeff shook his head. ‘Not necessarily. She doesn’t really believe in all that. But it doesn’t seem right for me to be married to someone else when we’re going to have a child together.’

  It was alright to fuck someone else while they were still married and had three children together. Now he had a conscience and Sam was the ‘someone else’. Fuck him. Fuck them both.

  ‘Fine, we’ll get started on it after Christmas, okay?’ she said lightly. She wasn’t going to show him it bothered her one bit.

  ‘Sure,’ he breathed out, visibly relieved. ‘You’re taking this all so much better than I thought.’

  Smug bastard. Did he think she’d crack? Did he hope she would?

  ‘And seeing as you’ve mentioned Christmas,’ Jeff continued carefully, ‘I was hoping we might be able to sort that out as well.’

  Sam sat back in her chair. She folded her arms and crossed her legs, staring directly at him. ‘What do you mean, “sort it out”?’

  ‘Well,’ he shrugged. ‘You know, I never made any demands last year. I thought that was only fair. So I figure, maybe it’s my turn to have the kids this year.’

  Sam’s mobile phone started to ring. Good. She needed a moment.

  ‘I have to get this, sorry.’

  Jeff nodded as she retrieved the phone from her bag and answered it.

  ‘Sam, it’s me, Vanessa.’

  Damn, she hadn’t had a
chance to get back to her yet. ‘Hi Vanessa, what’s up?’

  ‘Something’s wrong. I, I think I’m bleeding.’

  ‘Well, are you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she sighed.

  ‘Is it heavy?’

  ‘Mm, it’s like the start of a period, I’ve got cramps too.’

  Sam sighed inwardly. ‘You should call Dominic –’

  ‘I can’t,’ she blurted. ‘He’s still angry.’

  ‘Well, is there someone else I can call for you?’

  ‘No one else knows I’m pregnant,’ Vanessa explained tearfully. ‘Dominic forbade me to tell anyone. There’s no one I can call . . .’ Her voice broke. ‘I’m sorry for bothering you with this –’

  ‘It’s alright, Vanessa. Are you at home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she breathed.

  Sam hung up the phone and got to her feet, picking up her bag. Jeff was looking expectantly at her.

  ‘I have to go, it’s a bit of an emergency.’

  ‘Do you want to pick this up again later?’ he asked.

  ‘No need,’ said Sam briskly. ‘You say it’s your turn to have the kids for Christmas this year? Well, for all their lives there was no Christmas for those kids but for me. I did the planning, the shopping, the wrapping, the decorating, the cooking . . . everything. And you did . . . let’s see,’ she put her finger to her chin, feigning contemplation. ‘Nothing, I believe, would be a fair way to describe it. So, on my calculations, that makes it “your turn” in about another fifteen years. Let’s pick it up again then.’

  Sam turned on her heel and left Jeff sitting there, stunned. She was sick to death of being so reasonable and fair about everything. What was fair about being dumped after sixteen years and three children, replaced with a new partner, a new baby, a new life? Jeff was getting it all. Well, he wasn’t going to get Christmas as well.

  Vanessa was still in her robe when she opened the door, and it was nearly midday. She had been crying and there were dark circles under her eyes.

  ‘Thanks for coming, Sam. I’m so sorry to do this to you.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Vanessa,’ she dismissed, walking into the apartment. ‘You look tired.’

  ‘I haven’t been getting much sleep lately.’

  Sam looked at her. ‘What’s happening? Are you still bleeding?’

  Vanessa nodded wearily.

  ‘It’s more than spotting?’

  She nodded again, her head downcast.

  Sam sighed, touching her arm. ‘You know we’re going to have to get you to the hospital?’

  Vanessa looked up at her then, there were tears streaming down her cheeks. She sniffed. ‘I’d better get dressed.’

  ‘Don’t you want to call Dominic? He could meet us there.’

  Vanessa’s face crumpled and she started to sob. Sam put her arm around her.

  ‘He won’t care. He’ll be happy it’s all over,’ she whimpered.

  ‘Oh, Vanessa, of course he’ll care. He wouldn’t want you to go through this.’

  Vanessa wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands. ‘I’ll call him later. Once we know for sure.’

  At the hospital, the triage nurse was brusque and matter-of-fact. Suspected miscarriage. A doctor would see her soon. They were directed to wait in the meantime. Sam thought about the list of things she had planned for today, but none of that mattered any more. She would have to make some calls but they could wait until the doctor was with Vanessa. She was suddenly tired of being all things to all people, all at the same time. Just being here for Vanessa was enough. It was the best she could do.

  After an hour a doctor was available to see Vanessa, and Sam went to make her calls. Patricia Bowen was annoyed but Sam remained firm.

  ‘I was expecting you to talk to the tilers today. I don’t like the finish in the powder room. It’s going to have to be redone.’

  ‘I’ll speak to them before the day is out, Mrs Bowen. I told you, I’m at the hospital and this is an emergency.’

  ‘But it’s not as if it’s one of your children.’

  ‘No, she is a friend, and she has no one else.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t be able to just walk out if you were in a regular office job. I don’t see why this should be any different.’

  ‘I think in these circumstances I probably would have walked out of a regular office job, Patricia.’ She had never used her first name before. ‘And I’m asking you to show a little compassion. Your tiles will be fixed. You have my word.’

  ‘I’m having guests at Christmas, this job has to be finished.’

  Sam wanted to say, ‘Well, if you’d stop changing every little frigging thing, it would have been finished months ago.’

  But instead she just said, ‘Leave it to me.’

  Sam hung up the phone and wandered back to where they had been sitting. A nurse came towards her.

  ‘Mrs Holmes?’

  ‘Yes. How’s Vanessa?’

  ‘She’s going to need a D and C.’

  ‘So she lost the baby?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. Vanessa had a blighted ovum. There was never any baby.’

  Sam’s heart sank. She’d heard of that before. It was a miscarriage by any other name.

  ‘She’ll have to go to theatre. They’re prepping her now.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Of course, I’ll take you through.’

  Sam followed the nurse through a set of double doors and along a corridor, past a row of small rooms. She stopped outside one.

  ‘She’s already had her pre-op meds, so she might be a little groggy. You’ll be able to stay just until they come to take her to theatre.’

  Sam nodded, stepping into the room. Vanessa looked pale, almost transparent against the white hospital bedding. There was no life in her usually bright eyes, no smile. She was clearly devastated.

  ‘Sam,’ she said in a small voice, reaching her hand out.

  Sam came closer to the bed and took Vanessa’s hand. ‘I’m here.’

  ‘They’re saying there was never a baby.’

  ‘That’s true, but your body was doing everything as though there was one, Vanessa. You don’t have to feel embarrassed.’

  ‘But there was a baby.’ Her voice was so faint. ‘I felt it. I know it was there.’

  Sam looked into her sad blue eyes. ‘Of course you felt something. Your body was behaving exactly as though you were pregnant.’

  ‘But I felt the baby,’ she insisted. ‘If it was a girl, I was going to call her Emily, and if it was a boy, Connor.’

  Sam felt a pang in her chest. Connor was the name they had picked out for Ellie if she was a boy.

  She wondered if Jeff would recycle it.

  ‘Do you want me to call Dominic?’ Sam said, changing the subject for both their sakes.

  She shook her head tearfully. ‘He didn’t care about the baby, I don’t want him here.’

  ‘Listen to me, Vanessa,’ Sam said gently but firmly. ‘You’re going under anaesthetic. He’s your husband, he should know.’

  ‘Do they have to get his permission?’

  ‘No, not any more.’ At least in this country a wife was no longer the possession of her husband.

  ‘Then I don’t care, Sam. Do whatever you think. But I don’t want to talk to him.’

  Sam stayed with her for a few more minutes until they were ready to send her to theatre. She walked out of the ward, out of the waiting room and out through the exit until she could breathe some fresh air. She slumped against a brick wall. She felt so sad her stomach ached. Surely Dominic would want to be here? He was not so inhuman that he would be impervious to his wife’s pain. Vanessa said she could do whatever she wanted. Sam took out her mobile and the small address book she carried with her everywhere. She found his office number and dialled it. She didn’t realise it was a direct number so she wasn’t prepared when he picked up the phone and annou
nced, ‘Dominic Blair’.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t expect you to answer the phone.’

  ‘Who is this?’ he demanded curtly.

  ‘Sorry Dominic. It’s Samantha Holmes.’

  ‘Hello Samantha,’ he said expansively, dropping the impatient tone. ‘I was going to call you.’

  She had to head him off, she knew what he was probably intending to call her about and she wouldn’t be able to bear the slightest mention.

  ‘Dominic, I’m with Vanessa. Something’s happened, we’re at the hospital.’

  ‘My God, what is it, not an accident?’

  He sounded distressed. Of course he did. He wasn’t totally without feeling.

  ‘No, Vanessa’s going to be alright. But she lost the baby.’ It was the simplest way to explain it for now.

  There was the slightest of pauses. ‘Oh, is that all?’ She could hear the relief in his voice. ‘Well, it’s for the best, really, isn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s how Vanessa sees it at the moment.’

  ‘She’ll get over it.’

  Sam couldn’t speak. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘Will I have to come and pick her up? Because,’ he paused, checking something, ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to get there till at least five. I have a meeting at three-thirty . . .’

  Sam tuned out. He was prattling on about his busy schedule, he didn’t ask one question about what Vanessa was going through.

  ‘Dominic,’ she interrupted, ‘Vanessa’s in theatre. She’s under general anaesthetic.’

  ‘Really?’ His tone was not one of shock or concern, but more of registering an interesting fact. ‘Well, she won’t be ready to leave for hours yet then.’

  ‘Dominic!’ Sam cried, exasperated.

  ‘What? What is it, Samantha?’

  ‘Well, don’t you want to be here?’

  ‘What good would I do, she’ll be out to it for quite some time.’

  ‘But . . . don’t you want to be with her, don’t you even care?’

  ‘Of course I care. What are you trying to say?’

  ‘My God, I knew you were selfish, but this is unbelievable.’

  ‘Samantha, I don’t think you’re being entirely appropriate.’