The Puzzle of You

by Leah Mercer

  I remember being more than a mother.

  Maybe I will be again. Maybe, with time, I’ll be ready to emerge from this protective place; this enclosed world with my daughter. My shell will have hardened, and I’ll face the outside world without being sucked in. I’ll hug my husband and let his love lift me up, instead of feeling like it might crack me open.

  Not now, though. Not yet.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  ‘Hello! I’m here!’

  Charlotte grins at the sound of Miriam’s voice, nerves rushing through her at the thought of the evening ahead with David. After talking to her mother yesterday and deciding to go back to work, she’s felt so energetic and lit up, buzzing in a way she hasn’t since the accident. Now she just needs to talk to David about it, and getting him out of the flat into neutral territory seems the ideal way to do it. Miriam jumped at the chance to babysit, and even though Charlotte’s still fuzzy on their financial big picture, their joint bank account balance looked healthy enough to cope with a splurge on last-minute tickets to see one of David’s favourite cellists at Wigmore Hall. They were a bit pricey, but she’ll be working soon, so . . .

  Okay, so it’s a little last minute – and a bit of a risk, given the state of their relationship. She used to plan surprises for him all the time, though. Checking the Time Out listings and booking something each weekend was a regular occurrence before they had Anabelle. David would jokingly dare her to book the most outlandish show possible, and in the years they’d been together, they must have been to every fringe theatre in London, no matter how hidden away or small.

  Charlotte grimaces, remembering the ‘immersive’ performance in a grotty pub in Peckham where the actors threw jelly at the audience. She and David had emerged slimy and sticky, but they’d laughed about it for years.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ Charlotte says, ushering Miriam in. ‘David’s on his way home now, and Anabelle’s—’ She stops as her daughter rushes into Miriam’s arms. That’s them sorted, she thinks, watching Anabelle drag her grandmother into the lounge. She feels a slight pang that she won’t get to finish that book she and Anabelle started reading for her bedtime story last night. Unusually, Anabelle had fallen asleep halfway through. Charlotte had stayed snuggled up with her, cosy and warm in the darkness, almost falling asleep herself.

  She heads to the bedroom to get ready, wondering what to wear – feeling almost like it’s a first date again. She pulls the curtains, then slides off her clothes and selects the only suitable outfit she can find: dark jeans and a plain black top that she jazzes up with a pendant necklace, completing the look with sparkly dangling earrings. The clothes are a bit tighter than she remembers, and here in the chaos of the bedroom, the earrings feel a little . . . over the top. She makes a face, remembering how silly she felt when she’d slathered on the make-up and dressed up after her haircut, only to be pushed aside.

  Is she being naïve to hope that a night out, a great outfit and a new outlook will be enough to bring them back together? Because it’s not just a new outlook for her: it’s a chance for them to work as a team, caring for Anabelle together for the first time since she was born. The past three years may have changed her husband in ways she couldn’t have imagined, but perhaps they can all find a new way forward. Hope flares inside that they can make it through this.

  ‘Mummy, where are you?’

  Charlotte jerks at Anabelle’s voice. ‘Coming!’

  She throws open the door with dramatic flair and strikes a pose, then prances into the lounge. Miriam and Anabelle clap and cheer, and Miriam even lets out a wolf-whistle. Charlotte cocks her head towards her mother-in-law in surprise. She hadn’t known Miriam had it in her. Then again, she hadn’t known much about her at all – besides her desire for grandkids and her devotion to her sons. And while Charlotte still doesn’t know her well, she understands her more – and respects her. Being with Anabelle these past few weeks has shown how difficult being a mother is, and to do it all on your own with three children . . . no wonder Miriam is still so invested in her sons. Raising them alone had claimed all of her, and Charlotte can now grasp just how consuming that must have been.

  Charlotte does another shimmy and a wiggle before tripping over a toy and falling, shrieking, on to the sofa. Miriam and Anabelle collapse in giggles.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ David’s voice cuts through the noise, and they all look up to see him staring askance at them. He gives Anabelle a kiss and a cuddle then hugs Miriam.

  ‘Kiss Mummy!’ Anabelle cries out. ‘Daddy, kiss Mummy!’

  Charlotte can’t help smiling at Anabelle’s insistence, even though David’s expression is carefully blank. He lowers his head towards her, and she grabs his shoulders and plants a huge kiss on his lips, tightening her grasp so he can’t move away. For a second – for just a split second – she swears she can feel him relax into her embrace.

  ‘Right, I’m taking you out tonight!’ she says, striking while the iron is hot – or, at least, not frigid. ‘Miriam’s going to babysit.’

  ‘What?’ David’s mouth drops open. ‘No, no. That’s fine. I’m knackered. Mum, thanks for coming, but it really wasn’t necessary. Stay for dinner, please. I’m sure Charlotte can knock up something delicious.’

  Charlotte’s heart drops. She’d known she would face resistance, but she hadn’t expected David to reject the idea outright – not with her already dressed and Miriam here.

  ‘No, no, no.’ Miriam wags a finger in David’s face, like he’s her little boy again. ‘You two deserve an evening out. It’s been ages since either of you let loose a bit. I just hope you last a little longer than last time, Charlotte!’

  Charlotte’s brow furrows. Had there been another time? She’d thought she’d been glued to Anabelle’s side. ‘What do you mean?’

  David sits down and kicks off his shoes. ‘You went out with some other mums a while back, and, well . . . I don’t know what happened, exactly. All I know is that you rushed home and straight into Anabelle’s room.’ He pauses and Charlotte strains to remember, but nothing comes to mind. A night out with other mums sounds like fun – if there’s alcohol involved. She’s surprised she actually went along. ‘Okay, then. Since Mum came all this way, I guess we’d better not waste her time.’

  It wasn’t exactly the enthusiastic response Charlotte had craved, but at least he’d agreed. ‘Great!’ she says, forcing herself to sound upbeat and positive. ‘Go and get changed, and let’s get out of here!’

  Half an hour later, she and David head down the stairs of their building and into the street. Charlotte takes a deep breath, relishing the evening air while at the same time hoping Miriam remembers where Anabelle’s toothbrush is. She had pointed it out before leaving, but Miriam had been more focused on Teletubbies than on her instructions. She laughs under her breath, shaking her head. Here she is on her first night out in weeks and she’s thinking about toothbrushes.

  ‘What are we doing tonight, anyway?’ David asks, looking straight ahead as they walk down the pavement towards the King’s Road, where they can grab a taxi.

  ‘I’m taking you to see Park Min at Wigmore Hall!’ She grins at him triumphantly, anticipating his reaction.

  ‘Park Min?’ David’s mouth drops open and he turns to face her. ‘Really?’ His eyes are bright and, for the first time in days, his face is alive.

  Charlotte nods, thinking how handsome he looks tonight. He’s ditched his usual out-of-office uniform of baggy jeans and a T-shirt for dark, slim-cut jeans and a crisp black shirt. If you didn’t look too closely at the pair of them, they could almost pass for their pre-baby selves.

  ‘I knew you’d like it.’ She squeezes his hand. ‘I thought we could see the concert, then have dinner in the area afterwards.’

  ‘But Charlotte, those tickets must have cost a fortune.’ David pulls his hand away, his long legs picking up pace as they stride down the pavement. ‘It’s just that we have to be careful, you know. With you not working, and—�
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  ‘David.’ Charlotte grabs his arm, forcing him to a stop. ‘Look, I wasn’t going to tell you this until after the concert, but I don’t want you to sit there worrying about money.’ She takes a breath, excitement stirring inside. ‘I want to go back to work,’ she says. Anticipation flows into her just saying the words.

  David’s face stays neutral, in that blank expression she’s come to know so well.

  ‘I know I was happy to stay at home before, and I’ve tried to be again. I really have.’ God, has she ever. ‘Anabelle’s a great kid,’ she continues. ‘Funny, bright . . .’ A flash of pride goes through her that this clever girl is her child, and she can see from David’s face that he’s proud, too. ‘But right now, I need more. I can’t sit around hoping that one day I might remember . . . not any longer. We need to face the possibility that I might never regain my memories.’ She pauses as a police car flashes by them, the siren drowning out everything in her head.

  ‘I may never be that person who wanted more babies,’ she says gently, and David’s face twists. ‘I may never be the mother who was content to make her child her life. I miss my career . . . so much. And I just need to get out there again.’ Her voice breaks and she watches him carefully, hoping he’ll understand. He must, right? He knew her before they had children. He knows what she’s like.

  David stares at her and silence falls between them. She holds his gaze, wondering for the millionth time what’s running through his head.

  ‘Before we had Anabelle, I was going to be the one to stay at home while you carried on with work,’ he says finally. ‘And you know, I was so excited. If you remember – you remember that bit, right? – I hated my job. To think I could trade it in to do something wonderful like raising our daughter was like a dream come true, a way for me to be what my father never was for me. A way to build something special, something I never had.’

  Charlotte nods, cringing inside. She can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to be pushed aside, stuck in a dead-end job while she lived out his desires. He’d clearly lived on the periphery of their lives, with hardly a look-in. Why had she done that to him?

  She reaches out to take his hand again, drawing back when she discovers he’s clenched his fingers in a fist. ‘I’m sorry, David.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise!’ His voice rises, and Charlotte steps back in surprise. She can’t remember the last time she heard him shout. He clears his throat and looks down at the ground. ‘You might have pushed me away, but I let you. That was the price I had to pay for Anabelle suffering the way she did. For making you so scared, so fearful, that you felt you had to give up everything to protect our daughter.’

  ‘David.’ The word floats out of Charlotte’s mouth in an incredulous tone. ‘You don’t need to pay a price! Anabelle needs you. I need you. And we’ll need you even more when I go back to work. I might have work meetings, or travel, or—’

  ‘If you want to go back to work, then you should,’ he interrupts her. ‘I’m hardly going to stop you, am I? Not after what happened with Anabelle.’

  Charlotte lets out a puff of air. ‘David, for the millionth time, what happened to Anabelle wasn’t your fault. And you couldn’t control my response to it, either. You need to stop beating yourself up about it.’ What will it take for him to stop blaming himself?

  ‘The only thing is . . . I probably won’t be around to help out much,’ he says slowly.

  Charlotte freezes, fear shooting through her. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Before the accident, I was offered the opportunity to head up a new branch in Exeter.’

  ‘You? Exeter?’ She can barely get out the words.

  David nods. ‘It’s a great chance for me to break into management. Not to mention build a team and a business from the ground up.’

  Charlotte blinks. Does he actually look excited? ‘But . . . but you hate your job.’ Hadn’t he just said that? She draws in a breath as it hits her that, for someone who hates his job, he seems to spend an awful lot of time there. She’d put it down to their difficult situation, but maybe there’s more to it than that.

  David laughs, but his face doesn’t change. ‘I did hate it, yes. But when you decided to stay at home, I was . . . well, I was stuck, in a way. If I couldn’t help you at home, at least I could make a good life for the two of you. And so I threw myself into work, and somewhere along the way I started to like it. Maybe not the work itself, but feeling needed, valued. I may not make the big bucks, not like you did, but these past three years I’ve worked like a dog. I’ve been promoted twice, and this job in Exeter is a huge step forward.’ There’s a note of pride in his voice and Charlotte shakes her head. It’s so odd to hear David speak about working his way up the ladder, not her.

  ‘So . . . so we’d move there? To Exeter?’ It might as well be to Mars, as far as she’s concerned. How will she ever get a job there?

  David lowers his head. ‘Well, I figured I’d stay up there during the week and come home at weekends. Most weekends, anyway. Once or twice a month I’ll need to be there on Saturdays.’

  ‘What? You’d be gone all week?’

  David runs a hand through his hair. ‘Well, to be honest, I rarely see Anabelle during the week, anyway. I’m out the door before she gets up and she’s in bed by the time I get home. I’ll miss her, of course, but she probably won’t even know I’m gone.’

  But what about me? Charlotte wants to scream. What about us? Her mind’s eye envisages night after night alone on the sofa, shovelling a takeaway into her mouth then heading to that big bed alone. She stares at him, realising with dread and disappointment that he is a stranger. Not only has he changed, he’s changed almost beyond recognition. The David she knew – the husband she knew – would never have considered being away from her for so long. He would have found his way through anything – guilt, blame, pain – to be by her side. And what about Anabelle? David had always felt his father’s lack of presence in his life, and now he was going to do the same thing to his daughter.

  It was almost unimaginable.

  ‘So you said yes?’ Charlotte’s voice emerges thready and weak.

  ‘I haven’t given them a firm answer yet. They haven’t officially posted the job, but apparently I’m the top choice. They wanted to float it by me and give me a chance to think about it. The opportunity only came up the day before your accident, and of course I wanted to talk to you first.’

  ‘But you want to go.’ Heaviness presses down on her as the pieces fall into place: his reluctance to engage, how he’d continued to pull away even as she tried to draw him out. He had already checked out. ‘Even if I don’t want any more children? Even if we can work past what you told me at Lily’s?’

  ‘Charlotte . . .’ David shakes his head. ‘It’s not just about having children. Things between us, well . . . they haven’t been right for ages. And I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know where to start.’

  Charlotte holds his gaze, her mind spinning. What can she say? What can she say to this stranger before her – a man who says he still loves her, but one she doesn’t even know any more? What can she say when she doesn’t even remember what went wrong in the first place?

  ‘I think . . .’ He draws in a breath. ‘I think this will be a good chance to give us both some space, maybe a chance to reset,’ David says. ‘And obviously I’m not going anywhere until you and Anabelle are one hundred per cent okay. It’ll be a few months before I need to go – they’re constructing a whole new building for us. You were keen for us to move in with Mum so Anabelle could attend the great state school there. Maybe we could make the move sooner rather than later. Having Mum around might balance out me being away.’

  Charlotte winces at the thought of the move she’d been planning . . . and all because of schools? There must be a million and one schools in London that Anabelle could attend. What had she been thinking? And moving in with Miriam would hardly be consolation for losing her husband! At least Anab
elle would be raised by a beloved grandparent, not a nanny. Still . . . how will their daughter react when both her parents disappear from her life, popping up only at weekends? If Anabelle freaks out when her mother changes her hairstyle, how will she cope when that whole face is replaced by someone else’s, even if it is her grandmother’s? Because, like David, Charlotte won’t be able to be home most nights before half seven or eight.

  ‘It’ll be super-convenient to have Mum right on hand, even if you don’t find work straight away,’ David continues, warming to his theme. ‘And if you do eventually regain your memory and decide you don’t want to work any more, you’ll still have Mum there to keep you company. I don’t like to think of you alone in central London.’

  Then don’t go! Charlotte wants to scream it aloud, but she knows there’s no point.

  Her head starts throbbing, and she puts a hand to her temple. What an idiot she’s been, thinking this could be a new beginning for them, when her husband has already made plans to leave. Tears fill her eyes and she wills them not to spill over, not wanting David to witness any hint of vulnerability in her now. The last thing she wants from him is pity.

  ‘Do you still want to see Park Min?’ David asks, looking at her hesitantly. ‘It’d be a shame to waste the tickets, but I understand if you don’t . . .’

  ‘Sure.’ Charlotte lifts her chin and forces a smile, although it’s the last thing she feels like doing. ‘Let’s go.’ She’s not going to let him see how her insides feel torn to bits, pain and grief oozing from them. He’s not the person she’ll turn to any longer. He’s a person who’s hurt her now.

  Her, and Anabelle. A fiercely protective emotion swarms over her for an instant, surprising her with its power.

  ‘Okay, then.’ David looks hard at her again, then glances at his watch. ‘We’d better hurry if we don’t want to be late.’