The Puzzle of You

by Leah Mercer

  None of this means I don’t count myself lucky every day, of course. None of this means I’m not super-grateful – not like the mums I went out with that night; the mums whose complaints scorched my ears. None of this means I’d change any little bit of it.

  Anabelle woke up early and David had to duck out for a meeting, which meant I didn’t have a chance to take a shower. And let me tell you, with the state my hair was in, I was in desperate need of one. I tried to slick my strands back into a ponytail but, even so, they looked greasy and unkempt.

  Anabelle refused to eat her cereal then spilled it on the floor; I managed to kneel in half of it when I was trying to clean it up. Staying inside with her being so grumpy was a non-starter and today was a rare day without any playgroups, so I bundled her into a coat and wellies and dragged her the short distance to the park. While there, she managed to fall into some mud, get sand in her hair, and somehow – I still don’t know how – lose a welly.

  I was in the process of half-carrying, half-dragging her across the King’s Road back home when I heard someone calling my name. I swung around, nearly knocking over a passer-by with Anabelle in my arms, and met the gaze of a blonde woman in a red coat.

  ‘Charlotte! How are you?’

  I blinked, trying to place her; then suddenly it came to me. This immaculate, polished woman had been an intern at Cellbril around the time I’d been promoted to senior account director. I hadn’t worked with her much; I’d been too busy running the team, but I’d seen her in meetings and been impressed with her drive and efficiency. My mind whirled as I tried to remember her name, but with Anabelle struggling in my arms, I hadn’t a hope in hell of doing so.

  ‘Good to see you,’ I said. ‘How have you been?’ I let Anabelle slide down to balance on my feet, conscious that my hair had escaped from my ponytail, I had mud on my trousers from Anabelle’s one welly, and that my daughter resembled an urchin more than a Chelsea child. I tried not to notice how the woman – God, I wished I could remember her name – took a step back from us. Not that I blamed her.

  ‘Great.’ She smiled, and I could see that she really meant it. ‘I’m just down in London for the day, doing some shopping and visiting friends. Cellbril hired me full-time a couple of years ago, and I’m now an account manager in the Birmingham office . . . working my way up to director, like you did. I love it. And you? What have you been up to?’

  I met her eyes, wondering what to say. Could she believe that the woman she’d known – the one who’d worked every night until late – was now happy staying at home? That the person who’d poured all her energy into securing multimillion-pound contracts spent her time potty training and reciting lines from Peppa Pig episodes?

  No. Of course she couldn’t. And the truth is, the person she had known – the old me – wouldn’t have been happy staying at home. I would have wanted more.

  But I wasn’t that person now.

  I lifted my chin. ‘It’s been a wonderful three years with this one.’ I tried not to flinch as Anabelle jumped up and down, crushing my toes.

  ‘You’re not working?’ The woman – Lucy, her name finally popped into my mind – gave a fixed smile, but I could see the horror in her eyes.

  ‘Nope!’ I grinned back at her. ‘I’ve been home with my daughter and really enjoying it. In fact, we’re thinking of having another one. Another baby! The more the merrier!’ My eyebrows shot up as the words left my mouth. Where had that come from?

  ‘Oh, fabulous.’ I could see Lucy didn’t mean it, though. I knew exactly what she was thinking: rather you than me. I’d have thought the same in her position. I had thought the same in her position.

  She said goodbye and I scooped up Anabelle, mulling over our exchange. Did I really want another child, or was it just to show Lucy that I had changed; that all thoughts of work had gone from me now, and I was fine with that – more than fine, actually: brilliant?

  I shook my head. I was fine, of course. I didn’t need to say I wanted another child to prove it. And so . . . I must have really meant it. I couldn’t help but smile as the realisation sank in. It made perfect sense. Sure, the odd day here and there with Anabelle could be challenging, but I’d mastered life as a mother of one. Why not have another? Wasn’t that what stay-at-home mums did: have more children so the siblings could play together? I’d heard it countless times in playgroups, but I guess I hadn’t been ready. Anabelle took up all of me. But I’ve expanded into this role, and I can handle more. I want to handle more.

  And there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have another. Anabelle’s condition is something that just happened, a random mutation . . . a simple birth defect, like David had said. We’ll keep close tabs as our baby develops, of course, but I’m certain everything will be fine. I’ll take every possible precaution to protect my child. I know that I can trust myself to do so.

  Lily’s face, full of hope and joy when she told me she was pregnant, flashed into my mind, and I recalled my longing to turn back the clock – my regret that I hadn’t treasured that time. I grinned. I might not be able to change the past, but I can control the future. And this time, it will be different. Like my friend, I’ll blossom as the months go on. I’ll bask in Baby, knowing that I can handle anything now.

  I’ll need to talk to David, of course, but he shouldn’t have any objections. We’ve been managing fine on his salary; we already own all the baby gear, and once we move into Miriam’s, we’ll have tons of space. Maybe I’ll even try co-sleeping. Isn’t that supposed to make breastfeeding easier? Because I’ll definitely breastfeed this next time around.

  Another baby. Another life to take care of. It’ll be insanely busy, and I’ll be exhausted. But this is my chance to do things right, and I’m going to grab hold of it with everything I have.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Charlotte’s eyes snap open, her brain instantly alert. Today is the day she’s going to show Ed the pitch presentation she’s slaved over, and she absolutely cannot wait – especially to witness the expression on his face when he sees how airtight, how professional and how bloody brilliant it is. It’s the best piece of work she’s done in . . . well, maybe ever. After creating this masterpiece, she’s sure he’ll find a role for her on the pitching team. With her experience, he’d be stupid not to.

  Berlin, here she comes.

  Charlotte crawls from the covers and pads over to Anabelle’s bed in the corner. Her daughter looks so peaceful, curled up with Zebby and her thumb stuck in her mouth. Charlotte reaches down to smooth back a lock of hair from her forehead, the now-familiar combination of sadness and guilt mingling inside. Apart from the day when she discovered Zebby in her handbag and rushed home to return him before bedtime, she’s hardly seen her daughter in the past week or so, and – all things going well – she’ll be off to Berlin in a couple of days. It’s just a quick trip, but still . . .

  If they win the account, Ed will have no choice but to promote her. The client wouldn’t like someone with such a junior title working on their account. It’ll be yet more work, but at least she’ll be doing a job she’s proud of instead of toiling away entering data for hours on end. That’ll go some way towards easing the pain of leaving her daughter . . . hopefully.

  Charlotte swallows, heading over to her wardrobe, where her carefully chosen suit is waiting. In the few weeks since she’s been back at work, she’s already dropped almost ten pounds, mostly down to forgetting to eat lunch and being too busy to snack. Her old wardrobe would fit again – if only she could figure out where she put it! The mounds of stuff crammed into their cluttered and disorganised flat defeated her few attempts to find it, and it was easier to give up and buy more clothes than sift through piles of God knows what.

  ‘Anabelle’s still sleeping,’ she says to David as she eases out of the bedroom. ‘I’ll see you later tonight.’

  As she catches the bus to the office, she thinks how strange it is that David knows nothing about this big pitch – she’d only told him she had
extra work at the office – or about the potential trip to Berlin and the chance to move forward. Back in the day, he knew everything about her workplace. She’d even rehearse her pitches with him, playing a game where they’d gulp wine for each PowerPoint slide. Eventually she wouldn’t be able to focus any longer and they’d end up in a sweaty heap on the bed after making love. God, she misses him – even though he hasn’t gone yet, it feels like he’s already vanished from her life . . . just as he becomes more visible in Anabelle’s. They’ll both feel his absence, even if he’s adamant they won’t. She sighs, wondering for the millionth time how he can even contemplate leaving.

  Two hours later, she’s standing outside Ed’s office door. He beckons her in and hangs up the phone, smiling his ‘what can I do for you?’ grin as she sits down. ‘Hi there. How’s the kiddie today?’

  Charlotte forces a smile. No matter how many times she tells him Anabelle’s name, he seems incapable of remembering it – or anything else about Charlotte other than the fact she has a child. ‘She’s fine, thanks.’

  ‘How are you settling in?’ he asks. ‘I can appreciate it’s probably not been easy adjusting to the workplace environment again and familiarising yourself with all the new procedures, especially after not working for so long. You seem to be doing all right, though.’ He nods approvingly at her, and she almost feels like she should pant and roll over for her tummy to be rubbed. God, how patronising.

  ‘Thank you,’ she says through gritted teeth. ‘And it hasn’t been difficult at all, actually. I’m really enjoying it. I’ve been working harder than ever, and I wanted to show you this.’ She cracks open her laptop and turns the screen towards him, her heart pounding with excitement.

  ‘It’s a presentation for the Berlin meeting with Freen on Friday,’ she says, when Ed doesn’t react to the material on the screen. ‘I know the Birmingham office has pulled something together, but perhaps they might add this material to it?’ She tries to keep her voice level as Ed flicks through her slides. ‘You may not know that I’ve worked with the project manager, Ute, quite closely before – on another trial. But I know what’s important to Freen and exactly what they’re looking for.’ Ed’s eyes flicker when she says this, but his neutral expression stays unchanged. ‘I’ve tailored this exactly to their needs. I can run through it now with you, if you like.’

  ‘No, no, that’s fine.’ Ed waves a hand, his eyes still glued to the screen. ‘Lucy and I will go over this later. She’s here for a few days so that we can review everything before we fly over.’ He meets her eyes. ‘Thanks for this, Charlotte. I’m impressed.’ He smiles distractedly then glances towards the door, indicating that her time is up.

  But she’s not moving. She can’t move. She spent hours on this, and that’s it? He’s impressed? She’ll be damned if this Lucy character is going to take her hard work and run with it. This presentation is one of the best she’s ever done, and if this doesn’t boost her forward, nothing will.

  Charlotte swallows. ‘It goes without saying that I’d be happy to accompany the team to Berlin,’ she says, forcing her voice to be strong yet not overpowering, which would be sure to get Ed’s back up. ‘Given I have such a great history with Freen and a very solid relationship with Ute.’ She hasn’t spoken to Ute in years, but nothing helps women bond better than (several) vodka Martinis.

  ‘Hmm . . .’ Ed leans back in his chair, tapping on his desk. ‘It would do us good to have someone with previous experience with Freen. Ute can be a tough nut to crack, and between you and me, I think Lucy’s a little scared of her. Perhaps you can do a slide or two. Let me call Lucy in and we’ll have a chat.’

  Charlotte barely refrains from punching the air as they wait for their colleague from Birmingham to appear. A chance to get back out there and pitch again! God, how she’s missed it. ‘Perfect. Just let me know what you’d like me to do, and please do let me know if you think we should add my material to what Lucy has—’ She comes to a stop as Ed lifts a hand in the air.

  ‘Ah, here she is now,’ Ed says, gesturing Lucy in. ‘Have you two met?’

  Charlotte turns to see a woman come into the office, and her mouth drops open. Lucy . . . an intern, from several years ago. Lucy had been eager to gain work experience before starting her masters, and Charlotte had been impressed with her ambition and drive. In fact, she’d reminded Charlotte of herself when she’d first started out.

  So Lucy had managed to get a job here, then. Good for her! It’s bizarre to be working alongside a former intern, but . . . Charlotte shakes her head. She’d thought she’d be walking back into the world she’d left. Like everything else, though, it’s changed.

  ‘Charlotte, hello.’ Lucy smiles and holds out a hand. ‘I heard you were back. It’s so good to see you again.’

  ‘Charlotte’s been kind enough to develop her own presentation for Freen,’ Ed says, and Charlotte can’t help noticing how Lucy’s face hardens. He swivels the laptop towards the former intern. ‘Have a look; there’s some solid material here. And since Charlotte has previous experience working with Ute, I think it’s a good idea to let her present some slides.’

  ‘Really? I don’t.’ Lucy’s blunt words make Charlotte’s eyes pop in surprise, and Ed’s brow furrows.

  ‘Why not?’ he asks.

  ‘Well, we don’t know how long Charlotte’s going to be with us, do we?’ Lucy says sweetly. ‘We don’t want to put her in front of Freen only to have to tell them she’s left us.’

  What the hell? Charlotte freezes. Had Lucy somehow uncovered her plan to stay only a few months before moving on to something better – if she can’t boost herself up here, of course?

  ‘What do you mean?’ she manages to say. She meets Lucy’s glittering eyes and nailed-on smile, realising that this woman might not be very happy at the sudden reappearance of her former boss. She certainly wouldn’t be, in Lucy’s place.

  ‘Well, when I ran into you on the street a few months back, you said you were thinking of having another baby. You made it sound quite imminent, actually.’ She stares pointedly at Charlotte’s midsection as if she is carrying a child right this second. Ed looks, too, and Charlotte fights the urge to tug her suit jacket closed. ‘I have to admit, I was rather surprised when I heard you’d returned to work.’

  ‘Oh, goodness.’ Charlotte waves a hand in the air like Lucy’s words are nothing, but she wants to kill the woman for landing her in it in front of Ed. ‘You must have misunderstood me. I said we weren’t thinking of having another. No way.’ She smiles, but anger churns inside. So what if she was? She still has the experience and the connections needed for this pitch. She should hardly be punished for procreation.

  ‘Okay.’ Lucy shrugs, but from the way Ed is eyeing her, Charlotte can tell he’s still not one hundred per cent convinced.

  ‘Right, well . . .’ Ed shifts in his chair. ‘Perhaps it’s best if we stick to our original plan, Charlotte. The last thing we want is to put you front and centre if, er . . .’

  ‘No.’ Even Charlotte is surprised at the vehemence in her voice. ‘I am not going to have another child. I am one thousand per cent dedicated to this job, and—’

  The tinny tune of ‘Baby Shark’ fills the room, and Charlotte freezes in horror as she realises it’s coming from her mobile phone – she’s changed the ringtone to Anabelle’s favourite song. Her cheeks redden at Ed and Lucy’s bemused expressions.

  ‘Should you get that?’ Lucy asks pointedly. ‘Might be your daughter or something. You’d better make sure she’s okay.’ It’s as if she’s trying to drive the point home that Charlotte can never be one thousand per cent dedicated, as she’s just promised.

  ‘Three year olds can’t dial mobiles,’ Charlotte mutters before putting the phone on silent. Shit, it’s Miriam. Is everything all right? She takes a deep breath and tries to refocus.

  ‘I want to do those slides,’ she says firmly. ‘It’s the best thing for this pitch, and I promise that if we win the account, I won’t be going
anywhere.’ If Ed gives her a senior role, but she’ll cross that bridge when she comes to it. ‘I know Freen, I know Ute, and I know they’ll listen to what I have to say.’

  Ed tilts his head. ‘Okay,’ he says finally. ‘But I’m trusting you, Charlotte. Don’t let me down.’

  Charlotte can sense Lucy radiating anger, and she barely resists shooting her colleague a triumphant grin. Instead she nods, excitement circling through her stomach. She did it! She’s taken a giant step towards where she used to be. There’s still a long way to go, but the clifftop is getting closer.

  First things first, though: she needs to call Miriam.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  14 January

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I can barely focus on this page. My hands are trembling so much that I can’t even form these letters. I can’t believe what’s happened. I can’t believe what David just told me. Hell, I can’t believe he only told me now, after all these years! Three fucking years.

  Calm down. I need to calm down or my head will explode – like my heart already has. It’s been smashed to bits, lodging sharp splinters into every part of me.

  Okay. I’ll write this down from the beginning, to try to get a grip. To help me try to understand, if that’s even possible.

  Lily called me this morning, inviting us over later to meet her brand-new baby. She’d had her beautiful boy last week in a perfect, calm home birth. I thought she was crazy to have the baby at home – too many things could go wrong, and after what happened with Anabelle, I wouldn’t take any chances. But everything went fine. According to her husband, Lily was a star, delivering in a serene, Madonna-like way without any painkillers.