The Man I Didn't Marry

by Anna Bell

  ‘Shit,’ he says. ‘How did he take hearing about the divorce?’

  ‘They haven’t told him. They’re pretending they’re still together.’

  Owen’s eyes nearly pop out of his head.

  ‘They’re what?’

  ‘It’s all so fucked up, Owen.’

  ‘And nothing came up in the tests?’

  ‘Nope, they were all clear,’ I say, almost wishing something had come up because at least it would explain things. I know this is a better outcome, that there isn’t anything physically wrong with Max, but it’s awful to think that he’s hidden his own memories from himself.

  ‘Shit, Ellie.’

  ‘I know, and he doesn’t remember Sasha, and we’ve only got nine weeks until this one comes along,’ I say, patting my bump.

  Tears that I’ve fought very hard not to fall start cascading down my cheeks.

  ‘Ssh,’ says Owen, putting an arm around me. ‘It’s going to be OK. You said it was only going to be temporary, I’m sure he’ll get his memory back soon.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re hoping we can work out what he was doing on Saturday and find out what happened. Do you have any idea why he might have been in Chiswick?’

  He hesitates and I almost get the impression that he’s going to say yes, but then he shakes his head. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I haven’t spoken to him in a while.’

  ‘That’s not like you guys. I know he’s missed a few of your five-a-side games because of work, but don’t you meet up sometimes for lunch?’

  ‘Yeah, but I’ve been busy lately. We’ve been doing the whole telephone tag thing. And plus, I’ve been seeing a lot of Claire. Speaking of whom, we should probably go and rescue her,’ he says, edging closer to the door.

  ‘Yes, yes of course,’ I say. ‘I’ll make your tea and bring it in. Milk no sugar, right?’

  ‘Yep, thanks, Ellie.’ He’s started walking away when he turns back. ‘He’s going to be fine, it’ll all work out.’

  ‘Of course,’ I say, putting a brave smile on my face, which slips off the minute he walks out of the kitchen.

  I flick the kettle on, and I hear my phone beeping in my bag. I root around and pull it out to see a message on our Yummy Mummies group chat.

  * * *

  Anneka:

  Don’t forget, Polly and Ellie: 7 p.m. sharp! Don’t forget, Helen: 6.30 p.m. sharp!

  * * *

  * * *

  Helen:

  Nice try. See you at 7.30 x

  * * *

  With everything that had happened over the weekend, I’d forgotten all about tomorrow night’s girls’ night. I start writing out a message to tell them I won’t be able to make it after all when I see it says Anneka’s typing.

  * * *

  Anneka:

  FYI Only valid excuse for not turning up is actual labour.

  * * *

  I laugh out loud, my fingers hovering over the keys. I can’t leave Max alone with Sasha. What if he forgets about Sasha again and goes to the pub? Perhaps I could ask Judy or Mick to pop over and keep him company. Going out for a couple of hours will probably do me some good. Sasha will be in bed, and I’m only going to be ten minutes down the road, so I can always come back if there’s an emergency.

  * * *

  Ellie:

  See you tomorrow x x

  * * *

  Whilst the kettle boils, I start taking deep breaths and repeating Owen’s words in my head: It’ll all work out. It has to, we’ve got no other option. I brush the tears away and splash cold water on my face, before I make Owen his tea and take it down to the lounge.

  Chapter 8

  Our getting-to-know-each-other time so far hasn’t gone the way Judy had hoped. We’ve been home for twenty-four hours, and yet we’ve barely spent a moment alone together. Owen and Claire left late last night and we were so exhausted that we went straight to bed – in our separate rooms. Then this morning, Mick turned up at 9 a.m. dressed in overalls – and carrying enough supplies to paint the whole street. Whilst Max and Mick made a start on the lounge, I spent the day reassigning projects and tying up as many loose ends as possible during my first and last day of homeworking. And now, I’m heading out for the evening at Anneka’s.

  ‘Are you sure you’re going to be OK?’ I say to Max and Mick, now sitting on the plastic-covered sofa having a beer, reflecting on their hard day’s graft. ‘I don’t have to go tonight.’

  ‘Go,’ says Max. ‘Dad’s here to help me. I’m sure that he babysits Sasha all the time.’

  Mick grimaces slightly before giving me a wink.

  I’m not entirely reassured by the fact that Mick is helping Max when he also has zero experience of looking after Sasha, but I need to escape.

  ‘We’ll be fine. We’ve got your number and she’s fast asleep,’ says Mick.

  ‘OK, I won’t be late,’ I say, practically running out the door before I lose my nerve.

  I drive away and I barely get along the next road before my phone rings and my heart sinks as I assume it’s Max and Mick. I pull over and I almost sob with relief, happy to see it’s a Skype call from my mum.

  Why is it that whenever there’s something wrong it’s always your mum that you want to talk to?

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ I say as I answer, but there’s a delay and I can just about see a grainy image of her.

  ‘Hello, darling, how are things with you?’ Or at least that’s what I think she says as the sound is a bit muffled.

  ‘Something’s happened to Max and he doesn’t remember us at all,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ she says; the screen pixelates, but when it clears, she has a big smile on her face. ‘You’re having a December ball. Lovely.’

  I look at her in disbelief.

  ‘No, Mum,’ I say. ‘He can’t remember.’

  ‘Oh… November,’ she says, nodding before saying something else that I can’t catch.

  I scrunch up my eyes. The pixelating screen and the misheard conversation reminds me that she’s half a world away. As much as I want to tell her to make myself feel better, all she’s going to do in any likelihood is worry and it’ll ruin her holiday.

  The picture disappears and when it returns my dad is sitting next to Mum.

  ‘Hi love, how’s Sasha and the dump?’ I presume I misheard and that should have been bump.

  ‘They’re both fine. This is a really bad line,’ I say as the picture cuts out and comes back frozen. ‘Can we try again soon?’

  ‘Yes, of course. We’ll… you… Antigua…’ she says before the picture cuts out.

  I fill in my own dots; she’s either been or is going to Antigua and she’ll try me again soon. I usually follow her cruises on an app to make myself jealous of the exotic places she’s visiting, but I haven’t looked over the last few days.

  I sigh and hang up, and carry on to Anneka’s.

  When I arrive, I’m not surprised to find that she lives in a massive house. It’s in one of the nearby villages and has sweeping views over the countryside. It’s the kind of house that I’d lust over on Escape to the Country. A barn conversion with centuries-old big wooden beams mixed with fresh brickwork and lots of glass. I can only imagine how good the inside is going to be. Anneka’s husband is a solicitor specialising in divorce, and judging from the size of the house business must be booming.

  I knock the chunky door handle, envying that too.

  ‘Ah, Ellie, look at you, bang on time. I like that,’ says Anneka, opening the door.

  I don’t tell her that I was too scared to be otherwise. A beat-up-looking car pulls up on the drive and I notice Polly behind the wheel, mouthing something along the lines of holy shit.

  I give her a quick wave and she waves back before waddling over to join us.

  ‘This place is amazing, Anneka,’ she says, as she draws close. ‘Remind me never to invite you to our house.’

  ‘I know. I thought our little house was going to be something special when we finished painting it, but this,’
I say, as we walk into the entrance hall, ‘this is incredible. Did you have it built?’

  ‘The house, no,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘We bought it last year when we thought we’d start a family. The place we had before only had four bedrooms.’

  ‘Only four,’ I say with a laugh, and Polly raises her eyebrows.

  ‘George has children from a previous marriage and we didn’t want them to feel left out with the new baby. Plus, we thought it would be handy to have a guest annexe for when we need staff. I’ve already registered at an agency to find us a Chinese au pair. So important for them to start learning languages early and Cantonese is going to be the language of the future.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely,’ I say, trying to nod along as if I’d considered something similar.

  I hand Anneka the bottles of non-alcoholic fizz that I brought with me and she takes them and walks us down a light and airy hallway.

  I walk along open-mouthed, glancing into the different reception rooms along the way.

  She leads us into the kitchen of dreams, which has a large open-plan living area attached to it, housing a big dining table and multiple sofas, complete with bi-fold doors spanning the whole back of the house that lead on to a large garden that overlooks fields.

  ‘So, what are we all drinking? Do we want some of this fizz that Ellie’s brought?’

  ‘Fizz is good with me,’ says Polly.

  I nod and try to perch on one of the breakfast-bar stools, keeping one foot on the floor so that I don’t topple over.

  ‘Oh, don’t sit there, they’re buggers to sit on. Go and sit on the sofas.’ Anneka points at the very brilliant white ones in the corner.

  ‘But they’re so white,’ I say, walking over. ‘They don’t look like they’ve ever been sat on.’

  ‘Don’t worry, they’re Scotchgarded and our cleaner does wonders with them.’

  Polly gives me a terrified look but we do as we’re told.

  ‘So, how are you getting on?’ I ask her.

  ‘I’m OK, I think,’ she says, answering my earlier question. ‘I’m just so tired all the time. I think it’ll be better when I stop working. I’ve got another month and a half to go and I can’t wait.’

  Anneka comes along and deposits our drinks in front of us, followed by a platter of crudités.

  ‘Help yourselves and there’s dip, too, low-sugar salsa and fat-free tzatziki.’

  I glance at the sofa again, but Anneka’s looking at me expectantly and that’s terrifying me too, so in the end I plump for the tzatziki, which is the least stain-y option.

  ‘So, how about you – are you now homeworking?’ Polly asks me.

  I’m about to respond, but the doorbell rings.

  ‘Five minutes late,’ declares Anneka from the kitchen island where she’s sorting out the drinks, before she click-clacks off towards the front door.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been on time anywhere in my adult life,’ says Polly. ‘This was an absolute first because she scares the bejesus out of me.’

  ‘I know. Me too.’

  ‘Thank goodness it’s not just me. I’m terrified of what it’s going to be like when I’ve got the baby in tow. When my sister’s kids were little it took her an hour or two to leave the house.’

  ‘I know, most of the time, when I’m going out with Sasha, I have to try and leave the house an hour earlier than I’m supposed to,’ I say.

  ‘Maybe that’s why Nina left the group. Couldn’t handle the pressure.’

  ‘Ha, perhaps we’ll all be joining her,’ I say, laughing.

  Helen walks into the room behind Anneka, clutching a big box from a local bakery.

  ‘Hello, hello,’ she calls, waltzing straight over and nudging the healthy snacks aside a bit before setting down the box, which is full of little fruit tarts. ‘I listened to the memo,’ she turns to Anneka, ‘they’ve got fruit in them, at least.’

  Anneka wrinkles up her nose. ‘And jelly, sugar and custard.’

  ‘Yeah, but the fruit counts as one of our five a day. So…’ She shrugs and sits down. ‘And I also bought us this, you know, in case we needed a bit of an ice-breaker.’

  I stare hard at the DVD.

  ‘Nothing says “ice-breaker” like Magic Mike XXL,’ I say, pulling a face.

  ‘Thought it might help us bond, you know, through the cringing – and to be honest, it’s the closest thing I can get to a man these days. Since the bump has become bigger, Toby won’t let me near him. He once saw the baby kicking when we were getting down to it and it freaked him out.

  ‘I know, sorry, probably a bit of an overshare. But none of my other friends get this kind of stuff. I’m the last of them to have kids, they’ve all been there done that, and they don’t have sex any more anyway now that their kids are bigger and go to bed late.’

  ‘Oh my God, is that a thing?’ I say. Max and I haven’t had much of a problem with that as Sasha goes to bed around 7 p.m.

  ‘Apparently, when they’re teenagers, it makes it harder as they go to bed so late and they get all freaked out if they hear any sort of creaking.’

  My jaw drops in horror; I hadn’t thought of my babies ever becoming teenagers.

  ‘Oh, it’s not so bad. You just buy them an expensive pair of AirPods and extend their WiFi privileges by an hour or two,’ says Anneka, batting away her hand and handing Helen a glass of fizz. ‘George has two teenage children from a previous marriage and we were on quite a rigid sex schedule to try and conceive this little one. We didn’t have time to be precious about when other people were in the house. If it was the right time, it was the right time.’

  ‘Blimey,’ I say, drinking my fizz and wishing it was alcoholic.

  ‘Besides, we won’t need to worry about that with these ones. By the time they’re grown up they’ll be hooked into all sorts of gadgets that they’ll have no clue what we’re up to,’ says Anneka.

  ‘Something to look forward to either way, huh?’ says Helen, pulling a face and Polly and I laugh.

  ‘So, this is exciting, isn’t it?’ says Anneka. ‘We don’t even need the woman that shall not be named.’

  ‘Nina?’ volunteers Helen.

  ‘Thank you, I didn’t want to waste my breath on her name, but yes, her. Look at us all bonding away. I’m sure over the next year we’re going to share everything,’ says Anneka. ‘I just wanted to say that I am so pleased to have you all here and that I have found you. I just knew when I met you that you were going to be my group.’

  ‘And that you were running out of time to do the class again,’ says Helen.

  Anneka chooses to ignore her.

  ‘And on that note, I’d like to propose a toast. I hope that we’ll be a happy, nurturing and supportive group and that we’ll be there for each other. It’s going to be a tough time going into motherhood and we’re going to need people that we can rely on and I hope that we have found just that. Cheers.’ Anneka raises her glass.

  My eyes start welling up – that’s just what I needed to hear – and we all drink.

  ‘That was lovely,’ says Polly.

  ‘I’ve been planning it all day. My hairdresser Cassandra has been coaching me to be a better person. Did it work? Did I sound nice and normal?’ she says, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘You did until you asked us afterwards,’ says Helen. ‘Are you all right, Ellie?’

  I sniffle back the tears that have involuntarily started to fall.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, dabbing them away. ‘It’s just I’ve moved down here and I don’t really know anyone any more and I haven’t really got any friends in town yet and that just meant so much, especially as this weekend…’ I can’t quite get the words out.

  ‘I’m an emotional wreck at the moment too,’ says Polly. ‘Last night I cried at Dragon’s Den every time someone got offered a deal.’

  ‘Those look more than just hormonal tears,’ says Helen, nudging the box of fruit tarts towards me.

  ‘They are, but I feel a bit bad unlo
ading about it to you all as we don’t know each other that well.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ says Anneka. ‘We’re all friends here. I can give you a card, if you need George’s services.’ She looks at the horror on Helen and Polly’s faces. ‘What? You would not believe what went on with the last group.’

  ‘It’s nothing like that, Anneka. Or at least I hope it won’t be,’ I say, taking a deep breath. ‘Max lost his memory.’

  The three of them stare at me blankly.

  ‘You know, I was waiting for something a bit more scandalous,’ says Anneka. ‘George is terribly forgetful. But that’s because he’s in his sixties.’

  The picture she’s painting of George becomes even clearer. But now isn’t the time to find out more about him.

  ‘He’s not forgetful; he’s forgotten everything about the last five years.’

  ‘What the actual—’ says Helen

  ‘Don’t say the f-word,’ says Anneka. ‘We’re not swearing in front of the babies.’

  ‘They’re not even born yet; what the fuck are they going to do about it?’ says Helen. ‘Oh shit, sorry.’

  She clasps her hand to her mouth, pretending it was accidental, and Anneka’s nostrils flare.

  ‘Do you know how much foetuses can hear? Anyway, we’re getting off the topic. Ellie—’ she waves her hand for me to continue ‘—what on earth happened?’

  ‘I guess I better start at the beginning,’ I say.

  ‘This sounds just like that movie,’ says Polly, helping herself to another mini tart. ‘I think it has Channing Tatum in it, or someone similar anyway. And it’s the wife that loses the memory, not him. But it’s like totally the same thing – she has to fall in love with her husband all over again.

  ‘Of course there’s her family, who are trying to manipulate her and steal her away. But apart from that…’