The Man I Didn't Marry

by Anna Bell

  ‘An affair?’ says Anne, then pauses. Her eyes flit down to my bump before she looks back to my face and sighs. ‘No, we definitely weren’t having one of those.’

  I breathe out and can feel myself going light-headed with relief.

  ‘Before he went up on that Saturday, he lied and told me that he had a work thing, and then when I recently found out he was meeting you,’ I say with relief, ‘I guess I put two and two together.’

  Anne pauses again before she nods.

  ‘Well, it was a work thing,’ says Anne. ‘Not a total lie. I’d asked him to meet me because I had been thinking about applying for a job back at PDCA.’

  ‘Oh, is that what you’re going to do?’

  ‘No, actually, I got an offer from another company. I had an interview a couple of days before the accident.’

  ‘Then why were you thinking of applying to PDCA?’

  She tucks a loose bit of hair that’s escaped her messy topknot behind her ears. ‘I didn’t think the interview had gone very well and I panicked.’

  ‘And that was it?’

  ‘Uh-huh, we chatted a little and then I turned to leave and that’s when I got hit.’

  ‘And that’s when Max lost his memory.’

  It was all so innocent.

  ‘Looks like it. Are you going to tell him about my accident?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly.

  It didn’t exactly go down well that I didn’t tell him the truth about his parents, and I’m guessing that telling him that I’ve been digging into his ex-girlfriend’s life for the last two weeks won’t exactly go down well either. Not to mention the fact that up until a few minutes ago I’d been convinced he’d been having an affair. I’d hate for him to find out that I even considered he could do something like that. ‘I should get going.’

  I stand up and walk towards the door.

  ‘Ellie,’ she says, stopping me in my tracks. ‘Max loves you in a way he never loved me. You’ll get through this.’

  I smile weakly back to her and head out the front door.

  I arrive back in Fleet to find Max at home.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, surprised; I thought he’d spend longer at his parents’ house. ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Better than I thought it would,’ he says. He’s sat at the kitchen table and I walk over and sit down next to him, taking his hand. ‘It’s been hard to reconcile what my dad did with how he’s been over the last month. I still can’t imagine he’d ever do anything like that; it’s such a massive shock. And I’m not saying that I agree with how Dad went about it, but seeing them open up about their lives now and how happy they are, I guess I can see that they’re better off apart.’

  He sighs deeply.

  ‘I don’t think my relationship with Dad is going to be quite like it has been over the past few weeks, but I think we’re going to have one, which I hear is better than before.’

  ‘Much better,’ I say, squeezing his hand.

  ‘The whole pretending was a bit fucked-up, though – but Rach and Gaby have been reminding me that this isn’t exactly a normal situation that we’ve all found ourselves in.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ I say, and he squeezes my hand back.

  ‘It’s made me realise what a remarkable woman you are, and how amazing it is that you’re my wife. The way you’ve handled this whole thing.’

  ‘I did what any wife would have done, in sickness and in health, right?’

  ‘Right,’ says Max, smiling.

  It makes me feel terrible keeping the secret about Anne.

  ‘So, I went to visit someone today in London,’ I say. ‘A woman named Anne Summers.’

  ‘Is that code for you’ve been shopping for something special,’ he says, raising an eyebrow.

  ‘No,’ I say, wishing it was. ‘She was hit by a bus and has broken one of her legs really badly.’

  ‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ says Max. ‘Is she OK?’

  I scan his face for any recognition.

  ‘She will be, she was lucky.’

  ‘Sounds it,’ he says, leaning forward and kissing me before I can finish what I was about to say. ‘You know, ever since you mentioned Ann Summers, I can’t get the image of you in some racy undies out of my head. So, I was just wondering, exactly how long is it until Sasha needs picking up from nursery?’

  He kisses me again and I know that I should gently push him away and tell him the truth. He needs to know how he fits into the story. This information could possibly be the trigger to bring his memory back. Only I can’t do it. His hands start to slide under my jumper, creeping up and up and I don’t stop him. Because there’s a small part of me that doesn’t want our old life back. I want this relationship – the one where we make time for each other, the one where we’ve found ourselves again.

  I know I’ll have to tell him, it’s only fair, but I can’t quite bring myself to do so just yet.

  Chapter 24

  I’d booked tickets to see Left Foot Forward when I had just found I was pregnant at seven weeks. I remembered being bored by the latter stage of pregnancy when I was expecting Sasha, and I thought it would be good to have something to look forward to. Little did I know that I would barely have enough time to think about it.

  ‘Do you think we should try and find a tout and see if we can get tickets?’ says Claire. ‘They’re not really my cup of tea but it would be fun.’

  ‘But Ellie and Max have got seated tickets so it’s not like we’d get to sit next to them,’ says Owen.

  To make the most of our trip to London, we’ve had a pre-concert meal with Owen and Claire. I wish they were coming with us to see the band; I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent hanging out with them recently. They’re really settling into being a couple with their playful banter, and the more I get to know Claire the more I like her, and it’s so lovely to see Owen so happy.

  ‘We should get going,’ says Max, draining his drink.

  Owen picks up the bill, with our two cards sitting on top of it, and looks around at the restaurant that’s become really busy since we arrived.

  ‘Perhaps I’ll take it up and pay at the bar,’ he says.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I say, following him and we join the queue.

  ‘Is Max OK?’ Owen asks. ‘He seems a bit quiet.’

  ‘It was quite an emotional weekend for him with all the stuff with his parents. I think it’s probably catching up with him.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess it would do.’

  ‘I had an interesting time too. I went to see Max’s ex, Anne, yesterday.’

  ‘What?’ says Owen, his mouth agape. ‘Sarah told me you met her and asked about her, but tracking down Anne? Ellie!’

  He shakes his head at me.

  ‘I know,’ I say, wincing, ‘but you sounded so suspicious when we were talking about their relationship at the festival. I was really worried what I’d find out, but now I know the truth and it’s not that big a deal.’

  ‘It isn’t?’ He looks surprised.

  ‘No, I know you were just trying to protect Max, but that’s in the past now. You should have told me.’

  ‘Right, sorry,’ he says, as the frazzled-looking bar worker appears and takes our payment. ‘I didn’t think you’d be OK with it, but, um, I guess that’s good.’

  ‘Why didn’t you think I’d be OK—’ I start, but Claire comes up to us and slides her arms around Owen’s waist and he pulls her in close, just as Max comes over and takes my hand.

  ‘Have a fabulous time,’ says Claire, not realising she was interrupting something.

  ‘We should get going, Ellie,’ says Max. He turns to hug Claire goodbye before giving Owen a handshake. And as I lean over and hug Owen, I whisper in his ear, ‘Can I call you tomorrow?’

  He pulls out of the hug and gives me the same look he did when he didn’t want me to look into Anne in the first place, but then shrugs and nods. ‘Enjoy tonight,’ he says, almost like an order.

  Max puts his h
and on the small of my back and I feel the familiar crackle of electricity. I try and push Owen’s look out of my mind, telling myself that he’s just being overprotective of Max, nothing else; Anne’s already told me what happened.

  When I’d booked our tickets, I hadn’t taken into consideration how steep the O2 gets at the sides and I grip the row of seats behind us carefully as I look for where we’re sitting.

  ‘Are you going to be OK up this high?’ asks Max as I sit down. ‘I mean, in your condition.’

  ‘In my condition,’ I say with a laugh, clinging onto the base of my seat to the extent that my knuckles whiten. ‘In any condition I’d have trouble here. I’m not great with heights.’

  ‘Relax, you’ll be fine. I’m here,’ he says and he squeezes my thigh.

  ‘Good, you’ll have to distract me.’

  Max leans over and gives me a kiss.

  ‘Hey, I meant, talk to me!’

  ‘Oh, OK. Hmm,’ he says, looking around. ‘OK, what’s your favourite Left Foot Forward song?’

  ‘“Whispers”, definitely. It was one of the first singles I ever bought,’ I say, thinking back. ‘I was in my last year of junior school and I had such a crush on a boy called Peter Dawson.’

  ‘His name sounds familiar. Would I have known him?’

  ‘Maybe, he was really good at football.’

  ‘Oh yeah, didn’t he go on to play for some club?’

  ‘I think he went to play for the Southampton youth team,’ I say, pretending like I wasn’t certain and hadn’t followed his career.

  ‘Did anything happen with you two?’

  ‘I wish,’ I say, laughing.

  ‘I can’t believe you fancied someone else. I’m truly hurt; I thought you only had eyes for me at school?’

  ‘Oh no, I fancied loads of boys; Matthew Hooper, Tim Knight, Russell Frost.’

  ‘Russell Frost? The one with the mohawk?’

  ‘Yeah, didn’t David Beckham have one?’ I say, laughing.

  ‘He did, but I think Russell’s was more a result of falling asleep at his mate’s house and his mate shaving it off for a laugh.’

  ‘Ha,’ I giggle. ‘It suited him though. I bet you were jealous because you didn’t have the balls to shave off your curtains.’

  ‘Ouch, I’ll have you know the ladies loved my curtains.’ He laughs.

  It was true we did. Even if he did keep them too long after the nineties.

  I look back down and gasp at the drop again.

  ‘OK, keep talking,’ he says. ‘Best concert you’ve ever been to?’

  ‘Foo Fighters in Hyde Park. I think it was in 2006? Some guy put me on his shoulders and it was amazing.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be recreating that tonight, no offence.’

  ‘Believe me, being up here I’m not offended. How about you? Best gig?’

  ‘Got to be the Chilis,’ he says with almost a glint in his eye. It’s almost like he knows that it’ll push my buttons. It’s a sore point in our relationship as I’ve had a long-term love affair with the Red Hot Chili Peppers and have never managed to see them live. But he doesn’t know that.

  ‘So that was better than when you went to see 5ive in concert?’

  ‘Don’t tell me I told you that?’

  ‘Oh, Max, I know all your secrets.’

  His smile momentarily slides off his face.

  ‘Just kidding,’ I say, wondering if Owen was on to something – he doesn’t seem quite himself tonight. ‘Don’t forget I was friends with Rach at the time, and I was jealous as hell.’

  He smiles again.

  ‘They were actually pretty good, and you know it wasn’t a bad place for a teenage boy. All those girls.’

  I laugh. Typical Max.

  A couple squeeze past us and we have to get up to let them through. Max takes hold of my arm under my elbow.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling more secure with him hanging on to me.

  ‘Anytime,’ he says as we sit again, just in time as the lights dim and the support group walk on stage.

  Left Foot Forward give a quick thank you to the crowd and walk off to rapturous applause. The arena begins to shake as people start to stamp their feet and cheer for an encore.

  I’m willing them to come back, feeling short-changed that they haven’t yet played ‘Whispers’, when an iconic guitar riff starts to play and the crowd roars even louder.

  When we arrived a couple of hours ago, I thought that there’d be no way I’d feel comfortable standing up during the concert, but whilst I’d been sitting down for the whole gig feeling like the ultimate party pooper, I have to stand for this.

  Max puts his arm protectively around me and kisses the top of my head. If only my teenage self could have known that all those times I played this one song on loop, fantasising about Max, one day I’d be stood beside him watching them live – she never in a gazillion years would have believed it.

  The song draws to a close and this time when the band leaves the stage the house lights go up. We hang back and let people leave before us. We’re checked into a hotel around the corner. I’d booked that back when I’d booked the gig tickets – it was supposed to be our last little treat to ourselves before the baby came. If I wasn’t heavily pregnant than we probably would have gone for a couple of drinks afterwards, but we make do instead with picking up gelatos on our way out.

  Most of the crowd heads towards the Tube station and we walk around the back of the Dome, along the path running beside the river. We take our time eating our little pots of heaven and enjoy the fresh air after being cooped up inside for hours.

  ‘I can’t believe how good that was,’ say Max. ‘Or how well you did. You must be knackered.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re staying nearby, that’s for sure. There’s no way I would have made it back by Tube and train.’

  ‘I never thought they’d be as good as that – and especially when we were seated. All those years I’ve snubbed those seats in favour of standing and actually it was all right.’

  ‘I know, it’s so nice going for a pee and knowing that you’re going to come back to the exact same spot and not have to spend ages looking for who you’re with.’

  I’m getting near the end of my tub of gelato and I stop and watch a party boat going down the river. It’s decorated with fairy lights around the outside, and the sound of excited chattering and ‘Dancing Queen’ drifts in the air.

  ‘I’m guessing there’s going to be a lot of sore heads on that boat,’ says Max, pointing with his little wooden spoon.

  ‘I know, looks like fun, though.’

  I’m just about to scoop up the last of the gelato.

  ‘Hey,’ says Max, making me freeze. ‘I hope you’re not going to eat the last bit.’

  He leans across to my pot and scoops it up with his spoon, before he leans over and kisses me. Our old tradition. The perfect ending to a perfect night.

  We start walking again before I stop when it suddenly hits me.

  A tradition that I haven’t told him about.

  I’m frozen to the spot. My mind’s racing – did I tell him and I’ve forgotten about it? Would Rach have told him about it last weekend? Did I ever tell her?

  Max has taken a few steps before he realises I’m not next to him.

  He looks back and laughs. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘You remember?’ I say slowly, still trying to make sense of it.

  His face says it all. He closes his eyes like he realises his mistake.

  So many thoughts are whizzing through my mind. How long has he had his memory back for? Why hasn’t he told me? Does he remember everything? Has he been pretending this whole time?

  Only I can’t seem to articulate any of that.

  ‘When?’ I stutter.

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘And has it all come back?’

  I’ve thought about this moment ever since the doctor gave us his diagnosis. I’d imagined that he’d sweep me up in his arms and tell me
how much he loved me, kissing me and telling me how relieved he was to remember again. I don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me.

  He takes a step closer towards me but there’s still no big moment.

  ‘It was just like the doctor said: it came flooding back. One minute I was putting Sasha down, the next I had this weird feeling – a bit like déjà vu – and then I suddenly spotted things in the room that I knew all about. The shop we’d bought that little print of the bluebird before she was born, the stuffed toy Gruffalo and the Hungry Caterpillar on the shelf to remind us of her first birthday party. Then I looked down at Sasha and I could remember her. Her being born. Her first step. All of it.’

  A solitary tear rolls down my face.

  ‘And you,’ he says.

  He bends down and kisses me and my knees are so weak and jittery that I’m starting to shake. I’m expecting one of the legendary perfect ten kisses, but instead it’s a kiss tinged with sadness.

  ‘You remember absolutely everything about our routine?’ I wince at the times I didn’t correct him from his perfect dad impression.

  ‘Yes, I know that I didn’t used to do every other bedtime duty, or take her to the park to give you time alone.’

  ‘Ah, yeah, sorry for all those little… tweaks.’

  ‘Don’t be. That’s how I should have been.’

  We’re skirting around the subject and I eventually pluck up the courage to ask him.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you could remember?’

  He stares straight into my eyes and it causes me to shiver.

  ‘It all came back so suddenly. When you told me about Anne’s accident, I didn’t remember who she was but I knew by the way you were looking at me that there was more to it than you made out. I couldn’t stop thinking about getting hit by a bus, and the more I thought about it, the more familiar it seemed. And that’s how it happened. And I knew you’d seen Anne – and I…’ He sighs deeply. ‘You know, don’t you?’

  I nod my head.

  He runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes. I’ve never seen Max cry before, but he’s got tears rolling down his cheeks.