by kendra Smith
‘Meringues. What? Oh, everything.’ She sat up on her elbows and laughed, but then felt a pang of regret. ‘I’m sorry, James.’
‘You’ve already said that – quite a few times. And I am too.’
She looked over at him. He looked vulnerable, sitting with his legs crossed at the ankles, sipping his wine. One thought kept looping round her head and now felt like the right time to bring it up. She knew she’d made mistakes, but it took two to break a marriage down, surely?
‘Well, I am. But I also mean I’m sorry things went wrong between us,’ she said quietly.
James shifted his position and glanced at her. ‘I can’t help feeling,’ she continued, ‘that I was testing myself, testing our marriage.’ She took a sip of wine and stroked the blanket. James sat silently watching her, his long fingers wrapped around the wine glass. She could feel his gaze and she looked to the left, studied the sun disappearing behind the trees, fearful of what his eyes held. But then she sat up and looked right at him. ‘What I mean is,’ she cleared her throat, seizing the moment of calm between them, ‘it takes two to mess up a marriage, doesn’t it?’ He jerked his head towards her. ‘What happened to us, James, to you?’
He let out a long breath and she watched his shoulders rise and fall. ‘We both changed,’ he shrugged. ‘After the miscarriage,’ he stopped. ‘Things were never the same. You used to cry. I felt wretched that I didn’t know how to reach you.’ He spread his left hand out on the rug and then clenched it into a fist. ‘I’m sorry, Vicky, if I wasn’t there enough for you. We’d had months of trying, and I didn’t know what to say or do anymore.’ He rubbed his temple. ‘I blamed myself, I blamed the science and then, eventually, I kind of switched off, retreated into work, left you to deal with the day-to-day because the bigger stuff was too hard and I guess you put your energy elsewhere – into other things. I understand that now.’
‘It sounds to me like maybe I couldn’t reach you.’
He shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I was thinking about it the other day, it was kind of like we were both walking along in the same life, the same house, and yet there was an invisible Perspex screen between us. Two people who loved each other, but neither of us reaching through the screen.’ His eyes were glistening when she looked round and she touched his forearm.
Loved each other. ‘I remember bits, James, snatches, more the feeling than a proper memory. Like the emotion of it all, but not the facts. I remember a feeling of failing somehow.’
‘You hadn’t failed, Vicky.’
‘But I had failed, hadn’t I? At least that’s what I felt, I think. Failed to produce another child.’ That now-familiar grieving feeling that would grip her, she knew what it was now. But she’d been allowing herself to feel these things again, and had spent so much time in the garden where she was lost in these thoughts; perhaps she was healing, perhaps she was letting the pain run its course, run out through her fingertips and into the soil.
‘How can having a miscarriage be a failure? It’s just your body and it—’
‘Didn’t really work, did it?’
‘No, it did work, it gave us two beautiful twins.’ His mouth turned up slightly at one side and then he was smiling, properly grinning. ‘Donuts – remember?’
How could she forget? The ‘mini jam donuts’, she and James used to call them. After that first scan, when they were so shocked it was twins, they’d gone to a nearby coffee shop and bought something sweet to celebrate. Mini jam donuts. Raspberry. Too cloying. But they didn’t care.
She nodded. ‘Raspberry, right? And you hate jam.’
‘I do.’
‘And the next day you said we should order everything we already had – the cot, the blankets, the car seat – all over again. “We need to go big, Vicky”, you said. Remember?’ She touched his foot with hers and he smiled. She poured them both another glass of wine and stared out at the garden in the disappearing light. Hazy memories were surfacing. And then she found she could remember one time very clearly, and she recalled it for him, when she was in the bath once, and was sure the lump was a baby’s heel, pressing on her insides. James had said, ‘Definitely the boy—’ they’d known by then they were having a boy and a girl, ‘—looks like a left-footed striker.’ And he’d laughed as he’d soaped her back and knelt down and chatted to her bump, whispered to her tummy that the only team to support was Arsenal, wasn’t it little bump? And he’d told the bump where his favourite team were in the Premiership as she’d laid back and put a hand through his sandy hair and sighed. She remembered that so clearly.
‘James?’ She took a sip of wine as he looked over at her.
‘Can you tell me more – about what happened at the hospital? When we lost—’
‘Her,’ he said quietly.
She nodded.
‘Do you really want to know?’
‘I do. I feel like it’s a piece of a jigsaw that I’m trying to put back together and I need to know how it fits with everything else, it’s just a hole at the moment, a dark hole.’
He reached over and squeezed her fingers briefly. James took a long breath. ‘When they couldn’t find a heartbeat, they got several consultants to have a look, to check. You weren’t talking. I couldn’t reach you. They said—’ James’s voice was thick and he coughed. ‘They said you’d have to deliver the baby. Which you did. The nurses, they wrapped her in blankets and showed you, and she was wearing a tiny hat with a pink ribbon on it. That’s the ribbon that’s in your box.’
Victoria let the tears fall. Although she couldn’t actually remember it, she could feel it and the ache in her heart now was from something she was beginning to remember. When she looked up she could see James’s cheeks glisten in the dusky sunlight. Silence surrounded them, interspersed with the odd chirrup from the blackbirds, as they sat, both lost in their own memories.
After a while, James rested his glass on the blanket and leant back on his elbows. ‘I didn’t know how to reach you after we lost the baby, Vicky. My way of coping was to throw myself into work, I admit it, and well – I’m sorry. And I’m sorry you felt lost. You used to say that to me. I know now that I let you down. You used to say to me you felt lost because the twins were growing up, and lost because we never had the baby.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘I’m beginning to see it much more from your side, but you know what: the twins still need you, Vicky, you must know that, they always will. You’re a great mother.’
She pulled herself up to sitting cross-legged and leant forward towards him and took a deep breath, inhaling the sandalwood smell of him. ‘And you?’
It was a beat before he answered. ‘So much has gone on, Vicky, I just don’t know.’
Victoria shivered in the breeze and glanced at the empty wine bottle. They’d carried on talking for a while more and covered some inconsequential things, then talked about Izzy, and about Lulu. ‘I think we better go in.’ James hauled the blanket up from the grass and shook it vigorously, then swayed slightly to the left and almost lost his footing. ‘I,’ he hesitated, ‘I’d better not drive.’ He tucked the blanket under his arm. ‘Can I stay here? Or, or,’ he hesitated. ‘Would the Victoria I’m looking at not agree to that?’ He bit his lip. She had the two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. She stepped towards him. ‘The Victoria right here would like that very much.’ She started to walk back to the house, but stopped and faced him. ‘After all, this is your home,’ she said to her husband, silhouetted in the fading light.
44 Victoria
James had stayed the night after the sports day, and the night after that. He went back to the Airbnb on the third day to gather up his things. Victoria had watched, twisting her wedding ring round her finger, as he’d pulled his duffel bag from the boot of the car and marched into the house, swinging it over his shoulder and then dumping it in his room upstairs. They were still very much in separate bedrooms, but there had been a tiny gear-shift. He had started to come in to use the en-suite bathroom in the mornings, muttering abo
ut the kids’ bathroom being ‘in a state’ and ‘Izzy’s make-up all over the place’. This morning he’d brought her a cup of coffee. Usually he swept in and out, but today when he’d handed her the coffee he seemed to want to say something. He’d hesitated by her bed, a towel tied around his waist, as her eyes flitted across his chest, then she’d looked away as he’d placed the coffee on the bedside table. Finally, he’d glanced at his watch and hurried off.
It was the middle of June, one week till the event. Victoria had been walking and running, using an app on her phone, gradually increasing the distance until she was comfortable going at a steady pace for three kilometres. She was never going to win any races, but that wasn’t the point. She could regulate her breathing now, keep going and, most importantly, even though her legs ached by the end of it, she knew she had the – what did Jake call it, ‘headspace’ to do it.
Zoe was in the park with her today for some ‘moral support’. Can’t run to bloody save myself, sweetie, but I’ll tag along and cheer you on. She had turned up in glittery leggings and a pink headband. Victoria burst out laughing.
‘What are they?’ she said pointing to her leggings.
Zoe frowned. ‘They’re the latest Lululemon, darling. You used to get the new leggings every season.’
Had she? She supposed on another planet far away she would have cared, but right now she didn’t care if she ended up running in her pyjamas. She smiled at Zoe and started to jog to warm up. ‘They’re great. Come on!’ She laughed. ‘I’ve got to do the full distance today, just to prove I can.’
‘Right-oh! Course you can!’ Zoe was panting next to her. ‘Jesus, sweetheart, this is serious!’
They jogged a bit further, then Zoe stopped. ‘And the swimming, are you training?’
‘Yes, soon,’ she said as she jogged ahead, blocking out the little voice reminding her of the nightmares – were they real memories or not? The water, the fear. She couldn’t tell. She would think about it all later.
Victoria completed the three kilometres, the app on her phone motivating her all the way. She didn’t walk once, she ran the whole course – three circuits including the hill. Zoe had bailed out at about one kilometre and Victoria could see her perched on a bench, scrolling through her phone.
When she got home, James’s car was reassuringly in the driveway. He’d been away the night before, in Newcastle visiting a client, and had got back late last night. The house had felt bigger, more lonely, without him – even with Jake and Izzy’s banter. She’d missed him and a small part of her brain was worrying that he wouldn’t come home. When she’d heard the key turning in the lock at midnight, she’d relaxed then, turned off her light and fallen into a deep sleep. He was home.
She was just picking up the last raisin from the floor as James walked in. ‘Is the coast clear now?’ She nodded.
‘No more low-flying flour?’
‘Nope.’ She wiped her hands on her leggings and straightened up.
Half an hour ago it had been a different story. Somehow, her, Izzy and Jake had ended up having a food fight when she got back from the rec. They’d tried to bake some chocolate chip biscuits together, Victoria had come in and found Jake and Izzy locked in debate about the temperature of the oven and, to diffuse the situation, she’d lobbed a handful of flour at each of them. Izzy had squealed, ‘Mum!’ and it had resulted in open warfare as they’d retaliated with handfuls of raisins, pelted chocolate chips at her and she’d thrown more flour across the table at them. She hadn’t laughed so much in ages. Despite the mess of the kitchen, despite the food all over the floor, it had been the look on James’s face when he’d come in the kitchen to find her, Jake and Izzy covered in flour, wrestling on the floor that had set them all off giggling again.
‘Where are the food-fighters now?’
‘They’re playing tennis – letting off steam.’
‘Good idea.’ James put the kettle on. ‘Tea?’
‘Please.’
‘How was your run this morning? Time?’
‘Twenty-five minutes.’
‘Not bad. Maybe you’ll be able to catch me up at some point.’
She flicked a tea towel at him, grinning. ‘Maybe I will!’
‘One week to go,’ he said glancing at his watch. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Course,’ she said, and he gave her a high-five as she passed. She felt better than she had in a long time. The running was invigorating her. Was it making her memory come back? She didn’t know, but it seemed to be doing her good, the fresh air, the exercise, something for her. She eased herself into one of the comfy brown leather seats at the end of the kitchen, and winced as she slid her trainers off. Her muscles had taken a beating. The doors were ajar letting a cool breeze in, as the tiled floor lit up with shafts of sunlight.
‘And you’re sure you’ll be OK? You know, about the whole event?’ He seemed to be studying her closely.
‘Yes. The consultant has said as long as I go at my own pace.’ She omitted to say that he thought she was walking, but she felt fit. It would be fine, she reassured herself.
‘Right.’ James placed the two mugs of chamomile tea down on the glass-topped coffee table between the chairs. ‘Anyway, it was nice to see you three having fun just now.’ It had been fun. She couldn’t remember when she’d last let go like that with her kids. A voice was telling her: a long time. Perhaps she’d lost sight of that over the years. And she reminded herself that despite the fact that her children were growing up, they still needed her. Yes, they didn’t need their shoelaces tied or toothpaste wiped off their face, but she was still their mother. Look at what Izzy had just been through.
She glanced at the framed photograph on the dresser. Izzy and Jake in fancy dress, both with their black antennae bobbling on their heads, their little cheeks painted yellow. The bees. They had been the most adorable bees. James followed her eyes.
He nodded to the photo and let out a small laugh. ‘Remember Vomit Boy. What was his name?’
She opened her mouth to reply but then shut it again. It was gone. ‘Can’t remember, but I do know that we said after that, that bouncy castles and cake don’t mix.’
‘They don’t.’
‘Was I a good mother, James?’
He picked up his mug and looked at her. ‘Yes. Are.’
‘Because I don’t remember, well, a lot of things.’ She shook her head. ‘I mean, a lot of people would have thought that I was unambitious, that looking after the twins – being a wife – was a second choice. That I gave up my career.’
‘Well, you did, but that was admirable. Anyone can be a marketing assistant for a charity, Vicky, but not everyone can be a good mother.’
‘But I don’t remember James, I know I was there for lots of firsts – first steps, first words. They were important. I do sort of know that. Some things are very clear. But so many of my memories,’ she searched for the word, ‘they’ve evaporated. They don’t feel solid.’
James leant back and took a sip of tea. ‘Well here’s one: you called me in the middle of a meeting years ago – do you remember? – it was the one I had with the boss from New York, I’d been waiting to speak to him for two weeks. He was signing off the project and was extremely difficult to get hold of. He was flying out later that day. The twins must have been about eighteen months – and he was sat right there,’ James nodded to an imaginary person opposite him ‘—you’d texted before to say it was urgent, so I took the call – it was on FaceTime.’ There was a flicker of a smile on his face.
Victoria was getting a fuzzy memory, but it wasn’t clear. ‘Go on.’
‘I told my boss it wouldn’t take long and you only called in emergencies, so he said go ahead. Then there you were, on my screen grinning at me that they had both done a poo. They’d been constipated for several days and it was a breakthrough. You shouted, “they just poo’d their pants!” just as Izzy and Jake said, “Dada” at me on the screen, then you were laughing. I turned bright red, coughed and then pre
ssed end call and had to try to finish the meeting. Luckily, my boss laughed, he had older kids.’
‘Did I really do that?’
James nodded and leant forward, then turned to look at her. ‘You were—’ he cleared his throat, ‘you are a great mother, Victoria. Sometimes maybe too good.’ He looked straight at her and smiled. She noticed how white his teeth were when he spoke.
‘You’ve never said.’
‘Vic, you’ve lost your memory, so let me be the judge of that.’
Good mother, but not such a good wife, a voice was whispering to her. She desperately wanted to reach out and touch his hand. Instead, she enjoyed the moment of peace. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. And in her mind’s eye she could see wet cheeks, foggy memories of the twins, blurring in and out of focus, she could see their faces, feel the touch of warm fingers on her cheek. And when she opened her eyes, her vision blurred by tears caught in her eyelashes, it was James’s hand brushing away the wet, his thumb tracing a semi-circle under her eye just as the sun flickered across her face.
45 Victoria
There were about 200 people lined up along the start line with huge numbers pinned to their chests. It all felt very real. Victoria pulled her T-shirt down over her stomach. This was the day. The duathlon. She was nervous, but she was determined to do the event for Izzy. And, if she was honest, for herself.
It was a humid, cloudy day in June. The air was thick. The heat had been building all week and it was due to break today. James had checked the weather the night before and frowned in front of his laptop. ‘Thunder – heavy rain. Not ideal. You need to watch your footing. The part in the woods will be hard with all the tree roots.’
‘I’ve been round that route a thousand times,’ she’d said confidently.
Victoria zipped up her light waterproof and looked heavenward. She didn’t feel that confidence now. The sky was painted aubergine with black clouds building on the horizon. Izzy, Jake and Zoe were milling around next to the start line. Izzy beamed at her and waved crazily, her arms in the air; Jake had his hood up, arms folded. Where was Lulu? Izzy spotted her again and started to wave. ‘Go, Mum!’ Victoria felt like she’d won the lottery. She was going to do this for her daughter. They’d raised over a thousand pounds on JustGiving, she couldn’t back out now.