The Man I Didn't Marry

by Anna Bell

  Max’s hips start to wiggle and he does a salsa move.

  ‘Whoa,’ he says, standing still. ‘What the hell was that? My hips had a life of their own.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right, we learnt to dance to this song when we were taking lessons before the wedding.’

  ‘We took dance lessons before the wedding?’ he says. ‘Bloody hell.’

  ‘You said that you’d been to too many weddings where the groom just rocked back and forth looking all sweaty and awkward.’

  ‘Don’t tell me we did a choreographed dance? Not one of those ones where everyone joined in? I couldn’t imagine Owen dancing.’

  I try and picture Owen doing one of those mass dances and it makes me laugh.

  ‘Um, no, you did try and talk me into doing the Pulp Fiction one, but it was going to be too tricky to do it in my dress. So, in the end, we danced to “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)”,’ I say.

  ‘By The Proclaimers?’

  ‘No, it was a cover; it’s really lovely and slow. We’d chosen it because when we were mini-golfing for hours on our first date, The Proclaimers’ version kept coming on in a loop.’

  ‘Why did we mini-golf for hours?’

  ‘I like to think it was because we didn’t want the night to end, but I think it was more because I kept beating you and there was something about your masculine pride that wouldn’t let us leave until you’d at least tried to beat me.’

  ‘Right. I still don’t wholly believe this story. Having seen my performance with beer pong on Wednesday, I still think I’d have beaten you at mini-golf.’

  ‘Well, I guess we won’t find out now, will we?’

  I think about the moment at mini-golf when The Proclaimers had been playing. I’d gone to hit the ball and Max had tried to stop me by pulling me back by my belt buckle and spun me round and we’d ended up kissing.

  ‘You’ll have to play me the song,’ he says. ‘Who knows, maybe the moves will come back to me like it did with the salsa.’

  He does an exaggerated hip move and both he and Sasha giggle.

  ‘It’s so weird, the psychiatrist said that I might have skills that come back automatically because it’s like muscle memory. Have I got any other talents that I’ve learnt over the last few years?’

  ‘Hmm, I can think of a few,’ I say, in a slightly husky voice without thinking. ‘Shit, Max, sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out that way. Um, let’s see. You can play the ukulele now. You learnt just before Sasha was born.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Uh-huh, I’ll have to dig it out from the spare-room boxes.’

  ‘Ah, good to know, and I, um, look forward to finding out my other new talents too,’ he says with a bit of a blush before he turns back to Sasha.

  I’m cutting up the toast whilst Sasha’s egg cools down and I stop. That’s the closest he’s come to hinting that something might happen between us.

  ‘Now this, this is a tune,’ says Max, tapping his toe to the beat as ‘Gangnam Style’ starts to play.

  ‘I haven’t heard this song in years,’ I say, turning to watch Max who’s got out his imaginary lasso and starting to do a little pony dance. He’s never been the shy type, but he’s not usually the person to be found lassoing in the kitchen in the middle of the day.

  ‘I never knew that you knew the moves,’ I say, wondering how this has never come up before.

  ‘It was a bit of a party trick a couple of years ago,’ he says before he starts to sing along and trot across the floor. I glance at my phone to see the release date: 2012. Blimey, I hadn’t realised it was that long ago.

  He looks absolutely ridiculous but Sasha is in fits of giggles and I can’t help but join in. He’s out of time with the music and the moves are a little dodgy, but he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life.

  He gives us a wink as he does his lasso and trots along to us, and for a minute I think he’s going to scoop me up along with him, but instead he picks Sasha up from my feet. He puts her on his hip and stretches out her hand with his and spins her around.

  ‘Come on, Ellie, surely you know the moves. Do you want Mummy to join in?’

  ‘Mama, Mama,’ Sasha chants, pointing at me.

  ‘Nuh-uh, you’re not getting me doing this dance.’

  ‘Come on, I know you would have learnt it. You and Rach used to spend ages learning Steps dances in her room. I bet you know some of it.’

  He does his little sideways shimmy across the kitchen, Sasha clinging on to him and screaming with delight at the same time.

  He raises an eyebrow at me. It’s so stupid that I feel self-conscious because this is Max. He’s seen me dance around different kitchens loads of times before, and he’s got no inhibitions, so why should I?

  There’s the pause between the verse and the chorus where the music goes quiet. Then as the chorus kicks in I start to do the trotting-pony move, and Max gives me a little whoop.

  ‘I can’t believe I’m dancing to this song,’ I say, secretly enjoying myself. This is the closest I’ve felt to us being a family of three in the past week, and I really throw myself into it.

  By the end of the song, I’m knackered. I’d forgotten how much of a workout the dance was. Max looks like he’s worn out too and I take Sasha and pop her in her high chair. She rubs her eyes and I hope that she manages to make it through her food before she falls asleep.

  Max and I have some soup whilst Sasha eats, and we’ve just about finished when she throws the last of her peach slices on the floor and yawns with her whole mouth wide open.

  ‘Ooh, someone’s sleepy,’ I say to her. ‘Is it nap time?’

  Max looks down at his list. ‘But it’s fifteen minutes early.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but you can’t mess with sleepiness. If she goes past this, she’ll get over-tired. And, believe me, you don’t want to meet her when she’s cranky.’

  ‘OK, got it,’ he says, standing up. He washes her face with the flannel that I had put on the table ready to use and then unclips her. ‘I’ll put her down. Does she just sleep in this?’

  I’m too stunned to reply at first. Before the memory loss Max never volunteered to take her up. I guess I’ve always done it or he just assumes I’ll asks him if I want him to do it. ‘Um, yeah, you can just slip off the dungarees but keep on the bodysuit. Also, you need to check the nappy to make sure it’s dry.’

  ‘OK, dungarees off, fresh nappy, and then I put her in the sleeping bag?’

  ‘Uh-huh, and flick the monitor on.’

  ‘OK, got it,’ he says.

  I can’t help tiptoeing to the door and listening in on Max and Sasha as they babble and giggle at each other while going up the stairs.

  I tidy away the plates from lunch, stacking them in the dishwasher. Before I tidy up the rest of the worktops. I’m clearing away some of our post off the side when I spot a loose photo. It’s from the stack I’d been showing Max earlier, only it must have dropped out before I showed it to him, as I haven’t seen it for ages. It’s of us at Comic Con the year after we got together. I pick it up, but before I get a chance to properly study it, my phone rings with a video call from my mum.

  ‘Hey, Mum,’ I answer, relieved this time that it’s not all pixelated.

  ‘Oh, darling, it’s so wonderful to see you. Although I’d much rather see my gorgeous granddaughter.’

  ‘Max is just putting her down for a nap.’

  ‘Oh, missed her again, but that video you sent me yesterday was adorable. So, how are you?’

  ‘Good, good,’ I lie, resisting the urge to cry and tell her everything. ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘We’re just off Guadeloupe,’ she says, playing some imaginary maracas. ‘It’s stunning, absolutely stunning and the food…’

  She smacks her lips together and groans.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’

  ‘Oh, he’s gone to some talk on astronomy,’ she says, pretending to yawn. ‘He’s in his element with the guest speakers. I barely see him.’

/>   I laugh; that sounds like Dad. More than anything do I wish that they were here now.

  ‘Sasha was out like a light before I changed her— Oh, sorry,’ says Max, wincing as he’s sees that I’m video chatting. ‘I’ll go,’ he mouths.

  ‘Is that my favourite son-in-law?’ she says, looking behind me like she’s trying to see round my kitchen.

  ‘Uh-huh, he’s also your only son-in-law.’

  She bats a hand away. She absolutely adores Max.

  Max peeks nervously over my shoulder and holds his hand up in a wave.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Smith,’ he says.

  I wince. I guess that’s who she is to him, as he only knows her from when we were kids.

  ‘Oh, Mr Voss, when did we get all formal?’

  Max panics and looks at me and I hastily scribble on a pad in front of me: Don’t say anything about your memory – she doesn’t know!!!

  ‘Ha ha, just trying to be funny,’ he says, eventually answering her.

  ‘Always a kidder, I just wish I could pinch your cheeks,’ she says, leaning forward, doing the action to the screen.

  Max laughs along but looks a little terrified.

  ‘You’ll be home soon and then you can,’ he says with some canned laughter.

  My mum beams back.

  ‘Yes, only another four weeks to go. That’s if I can fit on the plane home; I’m going to be the size of a house with all this food I’m eating.’

  My mum turns her head to the side and I know what she’s waiting for. I quickly scrawl:

  Pay her a compliment!!!

  ‘Oh, um, I like your top,’ he says. ‘Brings out the colour of your eyes.’

  ‘Max, you’re such a darling.’

  ‘I think that’s Sasha crying? Max, can you?’

  He looks a little confused at first, but then I put my hand out of the screen shot and point towards the door.

  ‘Oh yes, sorry about that… Mrs… um, speak soon.’

  He turns and runs out of the kitchen.

  ‘Was he OK?’ says Mum. ‘He didn’t quite seem himself. And it’s Friday? What’s he doing at home?’

  My mum has a sixth sense about these things.

  ‘Oh, he’s fine. Just tired; he’s been working hard on a project. Thought he’d make a long weekend of it.’

  ‘Right, you’d tell me if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Of course. He’s fine, really. Listen, I can still hear Sasha. I might have to go and give him a hand – can I call you back later today or perhaps tomorrow.?’

  ‘Yes, no problem. I’ll be lying by the pool all day today but then we’re ashore for the next two.’

  ‘OK, I’ll phone soon. Love you and love to Dad.’

  My mum blows a theatrical kiss just as I hang up and it pauses her mid ‘mwah’ for a second whilst it shuts down.

  ‘The coast is clear,’ I say, and Max comes back in from the hallway. ‘Sorry about all that.’

  ‘That’s OK. Your mum is a little bit…’

  ‘Over the top? Yeah, she’s always been one to play to the cameras. You do this whole sucking up thing to my mum and she laps it up. I should have warned you but with her away on holiday…’

  ‘I understand. How come you haven’t told her?’

  I shrug my shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I worry that she’d cut her holiday short and come back to help out and there’s not a lot she can do.’

  ‘I guess I can understand that. My dad cut his short and I feel a bit guilty.’

  ‘Hmm,’ I say, picking up the photo.

  ‘What’s that,’ he says, peering over my shoulder.

  ‘Oh, I think it must have fallen out of that box of photos I showed you yesterday.’

  I hand it over to him.

  ‘Is that you in a wig?’ he says, squinting at the photo. ‘Why are you dressed like a slutty policewoman?’

  ‘I was being Amy Pond from Doctor Who.’

  He looks at me blankly just like he had when I’d first dressed in the outfit.

  ‘She was a kissagram dressed in that outfit when she met the Doctor. Or at least re-met the Doctor – long story – you’d have to watch the series.’

  ‘Any particular reason for the costume? Or is that a regular thing for us? Dressing up, pretending we’re other people. You know there was that thing in Mum’s kitchen, and I read those messages about a caterpillar costume.’

  My cheeks flush.

  ‘No, we’re not into that. The thing in the kitchen, well, that was related to an article that I’d read… and the caterpillar costume was um, from Sasha’s birthday, and in that photo we were off to Comic Con.’

  ‘I went to a Comic Con?’ he says, frowning. ‘Isn’t that where everyone dresses up?’

  ‘Uh-huh, it’s amazing,’ I say.

  ‘I didn’t dress up, I take it,’ he says, studying himself.

  ‘Well, I told everyone you were dressed as Rory, who was an assistant along with Amy Pond, but only because he always wore a shirt and jeans, which is what you were wearing.’

  ‘I look terrified,’ he says with a little laugh.

  ‘Oh, you do, actually. I’d never noticed. I remember you being a tad uncomfortable. I mean, it was a bit out of your comfort zone.’

  ‘Have I got better at going?’ he asks.

  ‘We’ve not been since. You booked a trip to Seville for us the year after so I couldn’t go. Then the year after I didn’t want to leave Sasha as she was only small, and then this year, well, it’s in a few weeks but I hadn’t even thought about it.’

  ‘You look so happy,’ he says.

  ‘I was. There’s something about going to them; it’s like I’ve found my mothership.’

  ‘You haven’t changed at all, you’re still such a geek,’ he says, and he laughs.

  I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but it stabs at my heart. He still sees me as Rach’s nerdy friend.

  ‘Hey, um, do you think we could ask your parents if they could babysit Sasha tomorrow night?’ I say, more desperate than ever to get our romantic connection back on track.

  ‘I guess so. They offered, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did you want to do?’

  ‘I think we should go out, just the two of us.’

  ‘OK,’ he says.

  ‘No, I mean we should go out, just the two of us on a…’ I hesitate before plucking up the courage to say it. ‘On a date, you know: a proper one.’

  He looks at me and my heart starts to pound. I actually feel like I’m asking him out for the very first time. What if he says no? How awkward would that be?

  ‘That would be nice,’ he says.

  ‘Nice,’ I say, repeating it. Not quite what I was going for, but at least he’s agreed.

  ‘Where are we going to go?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, going through all the restaurants in Fleet until I think of the perfect one. ‘La Flambé? It’s the French place out in Church Crookham.’

  ‘Oh yeah, Mum and Dad always rave about that place.’

  I don’t add that it’s where we went on an early date when we both found ourselves visiting our parents in Fleet. It’s the perfect way of kicking this re-dating into action.

  I remember it as being the date that we first started to talk about our future plans and when we both acknowledged that we were in a relationship. I just need to keep my fingers crossed that it works out better than the beer pong fiasco.

  Chapter 13

  I kiss Sasha’s head and, taking one last look at her sleeping form, I creep away from her room. I know I’m supposed to leave her to settle herself to sleep but I can’t help it. It’s my favourite time of the day when we’re all snuggled up together. Especially as I know that when the new baby comes, I won’t have as much time for this.

  I creep along the hallway, and back down the stairs. Mick and Judy have come over to babysit Sasha. I think Judy wanted some alone time, but Mick is taking the whole charade very seriously and he’s c
ome along to keep her company. I can hear them laughing with Max in the kitchen and, as I get closer to them, it doesn’t take me long to pick up on the story that they’re telling. It’s a famous one in the Voss family. The time that Max and Rachel got stuck in the apple tree in Nasty Nigel’s garden. They’re so engrossed in it that they don’t notice that I’ve walked in. It seems so strange to see Judy and Mick united in their tears of laughter as they chip in with elements of the story.

  ‘And then when Nigel came out of his house with his rolled-up newspaper, that look of horror on Rach’s face before she jumped down,’ says Max, his eyes creasing as he laughs.

  ‘That was nothing compared to the look on your mum’s face when she heard that blood-curdling scream. Then the two of you appeared through that hedge with scratches and trailing half the garden with you and Rach flashing her bright-pink pants.’

  ‘I could have died,’ Judy says, laughing and wiping away a tear, and Mick smiles at her warmly. ‘Ah, Ellie, I didn’t see you there, love,’ she says, standing up and coming over. ‘You look nice,’ she says, spinning me round slightly, making the skirt of my maternity dress swish. ‘That’s a lovely dress. Is it new?’

  ‘No, I bought it when I was pregnant with Sasha.’ It’s understated in the sense that it’s a sleeveless, turtleneck dress that brushes my calves, but there’s something sexy in the way that the fabric clings to the body and gives me more of a defined shape than the rest of my flowy maternity gear.

  ‘It really suits you. Sasha fast asleep?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes, out like a light. Max wore her out this afternoon at the park.’

  I’m still in shock that he suggested taking her to the park all by himself so that I could have some time to ‘chill out and relax’, another thing that Max wouldn’t normally think to do off his own back.

  ‘Lovely, hopefully she’ll stay that way,’ she says.

  ‘Yes, hopefully, we won’t come back to find her watching Peppa Pig tonight,’ I say, looking at Mick who gives me a sheepish grin. ‘We should probably get going.’

  ‘I’ll go and get my shoes,’ says Max, standing up.

  He walks past me and I miss that once upon a time he would have trailed his fingers across my waist as he went.