The Man I Didn't Marry

by Anna Bell

  ‘If it wasn’t for the fact that I’m not going to be able to handle the sleepless nights by myself, I’d be calling up Anneka’s George.’

  ‘Maybe you should do that anyway; at least then we’d find out what he looked like,’ I say, and for the first time since we arrived Helen cracks a smile.

  ‘Hopefully it’ll be better next week as I’ve ordered a new TV for the bedroom. Figure I can lure him up there and then I can at least have the downstairs to myself.’

  ‘Wouldn’t the bed be more comfortable for you?’ asks Polly.

  ‘Yes, but I’d be cut off from the kitchen and right now snacks are weighing high on my priority list.’

  ‘Mine too,’ I say, looking carefully at the canapés being handed round. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Pea puree on puff pastry,’ says the waiter.

  I take one and pop it in my mouth; it’s divine.

  Helen looks at it with distrust and the waiter moves on.

  ‘Did you get Anneka a gift?’ asks Helen.

  ‘Yeah, I got some of the reusable nappies from her list,’ I say.

  ‘Same,’ says Helen. ‘The mere thought of Anneka and her perfectly manicured nails scraping them and putting them in the washing machine was like giving a gift to myself.’

  ‘You know that she’s joined that service where you put them out on the doorstep and they return magically cleaned,’ says Polly.

  ‘There’s a service that does that?’ I say in disbelief.

  ‘Yes, if you’re willing to pay for it. But I’m pretty sure you have to scrape still,’ says Helen with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘You’re so mean,’ says Polly.

  ‘I bet you bought them too.’

  ‘I did, but mainly because everything else was designer and way out of my price range.’

  ‘There was that.’ I nod in agreement.

  The waiter comes by with more pea puree bites and I take two. One for me, one for the baby.

  Anneka walks past with her arm looped through another woman’s. She slows down as she passes us.

  ‘Oh, Ninny,’ she says, loudly, ‘that’s hilarious.’

  We all stare at the woman with flame-red hair that somehow knows Max’s ex. I managed to convince Anneka that I’d talk to her myself if she pointed her out, but now that she’s in the same room as me, I don’t know how I’m going to bring it up.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ asks Polly.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve been wracking my brains what to say without sounding like a complete stalker. How do I shoehorn that we have a mutual friend in common?’

  ‘Ooh, I know, why don’t you get her to add you as a friend on Facebook then be like, look, we have a friend in common,’ says Polly.

  ‘I thought of that too, but when she looks she’ll see she won’t have one in common because Ellie’s not actually friends with Anne on Facebook,’ says Helen.

  The woman that answered the door to us when we arrived comes over with some peach clipboards.

  ‘Anneka has made individual ice-breaker games. They’re questions about various points in her life that she wants you to ask people you don’t know.’

  I’m expecting for Helen to tell her where she can shove the clipboards, but she holds her hand out.

  ‘Thank you, that sounds like a wonderful idea,’ she says. Polly and I look at her, stunned.

  We all take the clipboards and the woman walks over to the next group of women.

  ‘Here’s how we do it,’ says Helen. ‘I’ll go over to Ninny and ask her my Anneka questions.’

  ‘Which Sweet Valley High twin did Anneka most identify with?’ asks Polly, reading over her shoulder. ‘How’s that going to help?’

  ‘They’re all different, right? Let’s just imagine that Anneka’s favourite shop happens to be Ann Summers. Wish me luck.’

  Helen strides off before we can object to the plan and Polly and I shuffle closer to earwig.

  ‘Hi, I’m Helen,’ she says to Ninny. I’ve never seen her smile so much.

  ‘Hello, now, I’m guessing you must be one of Anneka’s yummy mummy friends.’

  I watch Helen almost snap the pen in her hand; she hates the name on our WhatsApp group.

  ‘Yes, well guessed,’ she says, with a smile. ‘And how do you know Anneka?’

  ‘We go way back; we used to work together, back in the day.’

  ‘Oh right,’ Helen nods. ‘Have you got your ice-breaker questions? I love ice-breakers. So much fun, don’t you think?’

  ‘Yes! And these are so great. I’ll start – which Spice Girl do you think Anneka would most have wanted to be?’

  ‘Got to be Posh, right?’

  ‘Ha ha, correct!’ says Ninny.

  ‘OK, and so for me, what naughty shop did Anneka buy a particular… mechanical rabbit from?’ I nearly spill my drink in surprise.

  ‘Oh, like the toy that walks along and flips?’ she says, wrinkling her face in confusion.

  ‘Not quite,’ says Helen. ‘I was thinking more of an adult toy?’

  ‘Oh right,’ she says, still confused at what Helen’s getting at. To be fair it’s only because I know where she’s going with this that I’m able to follow the conversation, otherwise I would be lost too.

  ‘I’ll try another one. Which lingerie brand did Anneka borrow the name from once on a night out?’

  ‘Agent Provocateur, that is so Anneka.’

  It really is so Anneka. Poor Helen, she’s going red in the face.

  ‘Good guess, but I think it’s more high-street.’

  ‘Figleaves? Floosy? Victoria’s Secret?’

  ‘Ann Summers,’ screams Polly before clasping her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it, is that what you were after?’

  ‘Oh, did she really?’ says Ninny, laughing. ‘You know, it’s funny. I actually know someone called Anne Summers.’

  ‘Really? What a coincidence,’ says Helen with relief.

  ‘Yeah, she’s really good friends with a friend of mine. Oh, poor Anne,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘Anyway, that was really fun. I guess we should circulate and do more ice-breakers. Hey, what’s your name and I’ll look you up on Facebook?’

  Helen doesn’t get a chance to reply as I step in.

  ‘Excuse me, sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I don’t suppose you were talking about Anne Summers that used to work at PDCA? My husband used to work with her.’

  ‘Oh yes, that rings a bell. I think she worked there before she went to New York.’

  ‘Did I hear on the grapevine that she’s back in the UK?’

  ‘Yes, although I bet she wishes she’d stayed Stateside.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’ I say.

  ‘She got hit by a bus, about a month ago.’

  My blood runs cold.

  ‘She what? Is she dead?’ I stutter.

  My head starts to spin; a month ago is when Max lost his memory.

  ‘No, she was so lucky. Apparently, she broke her leg really badly and had some bad bruising.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ says Polly. ‘That’s awful.’

  ‘But that’s not even the worst bit, apparently; my friend was telling me she’d been with her boyfriend and he didn’t even wait for the ambulance, he just took off.’

  I hadn’t realised that Helen was holding on to my arm but it’s a good job she is as without her my legs would have given way.

  ‘Where did it happen?’ I ask.

  ‘Somewhere up in London, Chiswick rings a bell.’

  I close my eyes and my whole world is slowly starting to fall apart. The phone call from the hospital in Hammersmith. It all fits.

  ‘Did your friend say boyfriend? I thought she was married?’ I say, my voice shaky.

  ‘No, apparently she and her husband split up. He stayed in New York and she came back alone.’

  I only vaguely hear the rest of the conversation… traction… hospital… home.

  ‘Would your friend have an address for her? I’m sure my h
usband would want to send her flowers,’ I say, trying to sound casual and not like she’s planted a seed in my brain that my husband might have been having an affair.

  ‘I can get it for you. What’s your name? I’ll add you as a friend on Facebook.’

  She digs out her phone and sends me a friend request, before she goes off to do more mingling.

  ‘You know, it still could all be just a coincidence,’ says Polly.

  ‘But it happened in Chiswick, where Max lost his memory around the same time that she got hit by a bus. Ninny said that the boyfriend didn’t stop at the scene. What if the bus accident is the traumatic event that caused him to blank the past five years out? What if Max was the boyfriend?’

  My mind is racing nineteen to the dozen and I can’t think straight.

  ‘What, Ellie? Where did you get that from?’ says Polly, shocked. ‘You can’t be suggesting he was having an affair?’

  ‘Can’t I? This is what I do for a living. I connect the dots, and the dots here all fit together with the same outcome – that Max is the boyfriend in question.’

  The two of them fall silent and my mind continues to whir.

  ‘He was working late a lot and was constantly distracted. He said it was because he was trying to get things done before the baby was born, but what if it was because he was meeting her?’

  ‘Ellie, don’t jump to conclusions,’ says Helen, softly.

  ‘I don’t think I’m jumping to anything, but there are only two people who can tell me if I’m right about this; one of them has lost his memory and the other’s resting at home with a broken leg.’

  ‘You’re not seriously going to see her, are you?’ says Polly.

  ‘Come on, you two would want to know if it was Jason or Toby having an affair, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘If Toby was having an affair I’d at least be relieved, as that might explain why we’re not having sex,’ she says before she looks horrified. ‘I’m sorry, terrible time to make a joke. Yes, of course I’d want to know.’

  ‘Who wants to do a nappy race?’ asks Anneka. ‘It’s going to be super fun. We’re all going to be blindfolded and we have to change the nappy super quick.’

  ‘That doesn’t really sound like a game, more like what we’re going to spend the next year doing,’ says Helen.

  ‘Actually, Anneka, I think I’m going to go home. I’m not feeling that well,’ I say.

  ‘But you can’t leave now. Unless – is the baby OK?’

  ‘The baby’s fine, but I really think it’s best I go.’

  ‘OK,’ says Anneka. ‘You do look a bit pale. It’s such a shame you’re going to miss voting for which is the cutest baby photo of me.’

  ‘Such a shame,’ says Helen with a wink.

  ‘I’ll give you a lift,’ says Polly.

  ‘No, you stay. I’ll call a cab.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘Stay,’ I say, giving her hand a squeeze.

  ‘Yes, you can’t all bail,’ says Anneka. ‘Hang on, Ellie, I’ll get you a goody bag.’

  ‘OK, great,’ I say. The last thing I want right now is a goody bag, but I stand there and wait anyway.

  Anneka comes back over. I was expecting a small little favour bag but she hands me a unicorn tote bag that’s jam-packed with stuff.

  ‘Text me later and let me know you’re OK,’ she says. ‘I won’t get too close in case it’s catching.’

  ‘I will do, thanks so much,’ I say, turning to leave.

  ‘And us too,’ says Helen, pulling me into a hug goodbye. ‘I’ll drop anything, anytime if you need me.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, choking up.

  After a month of uncertainty and wanting to know the truth, now that I’m on the cusp of getting it I’m suddenly not so sure I’ll like what I’m going to find.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Max,’ I shout a little too loudly in the train carriage. I’ve already been given scornful looks by the people around me for my phone ringing, despite the fact that I’m not even sat in a quiet carriage. But my signal is terrible; it keeps dropping in and out. ‘I’ll give you a call when I’ve arrived at the station.’

  ‘No, don’t worry. I’ll be…’ the signal disappears ‘…at home… this afternoon.’

  ‘OK,’ I say, sighing with relief. He’s spent the whole weekend with Rach and Gaby but I’m pleased – from what I’ve cobbled together from the conversation – that he’s finally going to talk to his parents about everything and try to sort things out. ‘Good luck.’

  We’ve spoken on the phone a couple of times over the weekend, and whilst I get the impression that he doesn’t blame me for not telling him, there’s been a slight shift in his trust. I can empathise with that, because I now know what it’s like finding out something that turns your world entirely on its head.

  After Anneka’s baby shower, I spent the weekend trying to think whether there had been any tell-tale signs of Max having an affair. Ninny sent through her address almost immediately after Anneka’s party, and I’ve been trying to work out whether I should confront Anne ever since. Would she talk to me? What if I’ve got it all wrong and Max wasn’t meeting her? Would she think I was a right weirdo for turning up? Or if he was with her, would I be able to handle what I heard? I honestly didn’t know if I was brave enough to do it until I dropped Sasha off at nursery this morning but I felt like I was on autopilot; I drove to the train station and now I’m en route to her house.

  The train slows as it pulls into Chiswick station, and I slip my phone in my bag and head off very slowly to Anne’s flat. The closer I get, the more nervous I become and the slower I walk. I’ve been so focused on getting here that I haven’t planned what I’m going to say or how I’m going to introduce myself.

  I reach the outside of the big Victorian house, find the entrance to 11b, which turns out to be a basement flat. I go to knock on the door, but before my knuckle makes contact, it swings open. A middle-aged woman wearing a blue nurse’s tunic is standing there with a big smile on her face.

  ‘Ah, you made it before I left, fantastic! Anne was worried she’d have to try and get up. I’ve left two cups out in the kitchen with tea bags in and along with a packet of cookies. Anne’s in the lounge. Have a lovely time,’ she says. She slips her bag over her shoulder and heads past me, but holds the door open for me to go in.

  ‘Actually…’ I start, before changing my mind. It feels a bit wrong sneaking in when she clearly thinks I’m someone else, but at least this solves the problem of Anne potentially refusing to see me. ‘Thank you.’

  The nurse smiles and heads up the stairs to the street and I step over the threshold into the flat.

  I head straight into the lounge and Anne’s sat with her leg elevated in bright-pink plaster, her long blonde hair tied up in a messy topknot. She might have a few scars on her cheeks, but she still looks as pretty as she did in her Facebook pictures.

  She looks up and becomes agitated when she sees me.

  ‘Who are you?’ she says, trying to push herself up.

  ‘Sorry, I know I shouldn’t just barge in like this but your nurse – never mind. I’m Ellie, Ellie Voss,’ I add quickly to stop her freaking out.

  Anne stops trying to get up. She may no longer look scared at the possibility of a stranger in her flat, but she doesn’t look any happier to see me.

  ‘Is Max with you?’ she says, looking over my shoulder.

  ‘No, he doesn’t know I’m here.’

  ‘Right,’ she says. ‘Did you want to sit down? You might be more comfortable.’

  I perch gratefully in an armchair.

  ‘I’m sorry about what happened to you,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady. ‘Will your leg heal OK?’

  ‘The doctors think the prognosis is good. I was incredibly lucky,’ she says, ‘but I’m guessing that’s not why you came all the way here.’

  ‘No,’ I say, looking at the get well soon cards lining the mantelpiece and the big bouquets of expensive-lo
oking flowers on the hearth. ‘I came to talk to about you and Max.’

  ‘Me and Max?’ she says with an almost bitter laugh. ‘Look, Ellie, I don’t know what Max has told you but, as far as I’m concerned, he can go fuck himself.’

  ‘Right,’ I say, trying to keep calm. I’m the one that should be angry, not her. ‘It’s just that I was hoping that you might help me understand the day of your accident, what you and Max were…’ I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

  ‘You want to understand the day of the accident? You mean, when I got hit by a bus and he left me there alone? I woke up in an ambulance to a paramedic telling me that Max had turned and walked away, instead of helping me when I was injured. Did he tell you that?’ she says.

  ‘Actually, he can’t tell me that. He doesn’t remember.’

  ‘He what?’ she says, still angry.

  ‘He’s lost his memory. The doctors think something traumatic happened to him and it caused him to go into a fugue that causes temporary amnesia of the last few years.’

  I go on to explain how we didn’t know what it was that had caused him to shut down and how I now think it was seeing her get hit by the bus.

  ‘His brain shut down? That’s why he left me there alone?’

  ‘I guess so,’ I say.

  Her whole demeanour changes and the venomous tone has been replaced by one of confusion and disbelief.

  ‘So, he wasn’t an utter shit for not checking on me?’

  ‘I know Max and there’s no way he’d have left under normal circumstances.’

  She reaches for a glass of water and winces in pain as she gets it. She takes a small sip before repeating the process and putting it back on the side.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she says. ‘It’s all so…’

  ‘Far-fetched? It’s been a shock to us all.’

  ‘And he doesn’t remember meeting you? Or me?’

  ‘No, luckily we’ve spent a lot of time together and…’

  She nods as if she understands.

  ‘I’m glad. Max said you were really happy.’

  ‘Well, I thought we were; that’s sort of why I’m here. I’m trying to piece everything together and I found out about you, and he can’t tell me about it. I need to know what he was doing meeting you, and if you two were having an affair?’ I almost choke on the words.