Not that she’d got off to a good start with her anyway; what had she been thinking, commenting on her wedding photo? Of all people, she should know not to make assumptions about someone’s status, both professionally and privately.
A key scraped in the lock and the stiff front door pushed open. Matt’s voice echoed down the empty hallway. ‘Are you there, Lar?’
That was quick. Better step away from the shelves: she’d promised him she wouldn’t touch anything until he got back. ‘In the lounge, love.’
Matt appeared in the doorway, a full bag of shopping in one hand and a paper bag in the other, which he waved in the air. ‘I found a nice fish and chip shop on the way back from the supermarket. Crack out the crockery.’
She frowned. What about the list of ingredients she’d given him for the carbonara? ‘But I said I’d cook for us.’
Matt looked a sight in his moth-eaten rugby shirt and old jeans. How had those clothes managed to survive the clear-out? ‘I know. But this way you don’t have to. It’s been a long day. A long, emotional day. You need to relax.’
Cooking was relaxing. And it would’ve given her something to do other than watch him unpacking their belongings. How could she make him understand that it was better when she was doing something? Anything. She sighed. ‘I’ll get the plates.’
He shook his head. ‘No, no. You sit down. I’ll bring it out to you.’
As he disappeared into the kitchen, Lara sank onto the sofa. It was easier to give in: she didn’t have the energy for an argument. Next door, chatting to Shelley, she’d felt like her old self for a short while. Back inside this new house, with Matt fussing over her, just drained her enthusiasm. He was right about the long day, though. It had been more upsetting than she’d anticipated leaving their old house, and no matter how many times Matt tried to persuade her that they would make this place their own, after seeing Shelley’s beautiful living room and kitchen, this house felt like an old folk’s home.
Matt reappeared with a tray, a plate of fish and chips and a tea towel over his left arm. He bowed slightly. ‘Your food, madam.’
If one thing saved their marriage, it was his ability to make her smile, even when things were really tough. She took the plate and smiled at him. ‘Thanks. I’m not sure how much I can eat but I’ll do my best.’
‘That’s all I can ask.’ Matt winked at her before going to retrieve his own plate from the kitchen.
She picked up a chip and nibbled at the end. ‘I met our neighbour while you were gone. She’s about our age. Divorced. Or separated. She said her husband left her a year ago.’ Although, the way Shelley had reacted to the wedding photograph, she clearly hadn’t moved on much in that year. Her husband must have hurt her pretty badly.
‘Oh, yes?’ Matt sat down beside her on the sofa and began to tuck in. ‘I’m glad you’ve made a friend. I’ll feel much happier if I have to do an overnight with work if you’ve got someone nearby to go to.’
For goodness’ sake, he made her sound about fourteen. ‘I keep telling you that I don’t need looking after. Anyway, I’m not sure she’s that keen on being best buddies. I practically invited myself in.’ Lara had left with the distinct impression that Shelley was relieved to see her go; she couldn’t see her popping round with a basket of muffins anytime soon. To be honest, they were probably too different to be friends anyway. Lara liked her friends a bit warmer and livelier. Well, she had.
Matt pointed at her with a forkful of fish. ‘I’m sure you’ll win her over. I’ve never known you not to achieve something you’ve set your mind to.’
Lara put her chip down. That wasn’t quite true. But they’d agreed to start looking forwards, not back. That’s what the book said. Which reminded her… ‘Her house is lovely, really modern and bright. But she has a room upstairs which is full of crap. And I mean full.’
Matt shrugged. ‘Some people like to keep their stuff. My dad used to have a shed which my mum was banned from. He had broken tools and sawn-off pieces of curtain rail and a ton of other crap my mum nagged him to throw away. He liked it.’
What he had probably liked about the shed was a respite from Matt’s mum’s moaning; a list of her ailments was practically her way of saying hello. ‘It doesn’t make sense, though, because she lives there on her own. The rest of the house is immaculate. There isn’t any clutter and everything is coordinated. Actually, I wish we’d bought her house rather than this one.’ She looked at him mournfully.
Matt slid his empty plate onto the coffee table, having practically inhaled his food. ‘That one sounds like it would have cost us a lot more than this one. You know this was the right thing to do.’
She didn’t need reminding of their reduced circumstances, but she couldn’t shake the sadness of leaving their old house this morning. Maybe it was hormones. ‘I know. I just miss our home.’
Tears started in her eyes and Matt pulled her towards him. ‘Hey. This is our home now. And we can make this nice too. Let’s go and choose some paint tomorrow and I can start next weekend.’
She pulled away from him slightly and gave a watery smile. It was ridiculous how quickly she cried these days. ‘You? Paint?’ Matt worked hard but he was not a fan of DIY. They’d always paid workmen in the past if they’d needed anything doing. Their old house had really high ceilings and huge glass windows. Any decoration was a mammoth task.
Matt pretended to be offended. ‘You don’t think I can do it?’
She laughed again, looked into his bright, kind eyes. Even if he was a little overzealous about it at times, he’d do anything for her; she knew he would. ‘I’m sure you can. I’ve just never seen it in action. Do you even own a paintbrush?’
‘Well, that was the old Matt. This one is going to learn to do it. Looking forwards, right? What’s the name of that book of yours? Chuck Out All Your Stuff and Cheer Up? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?’
She picked up a cushion and threw it at him. ‘You know full well it’s called Make Way for Joy.’ Matt was teasing, but he was right. Maybe she should get the book out and reread it. She thought again of that cluttered room next door. Shelley had hustled her out of it pretty sharpish, obviously embarrassed by how untidy it was. How satisfying would it be to get in there and sort it all out for her? Lara’s sister had been through the same thing with her awful ex-husband. Even after they’d split, he’d used their flat as some kind of free storage facility. Her sister had needed quite a few nudges, but even she admitted how much better she felt after making him come and collect all his junk. It was liberating to get rid of unnecessary belongings. Detritus from a life you no longer lived. Lara knew that first-hand. And she would explain it all to Shelley. Might as well give in and get to know her neighbour for once; if only to stop herself going mad with boredom. ‘I’m going to give it another go with Shelley next door. Invite her over for a drink. Show her the book. She looks as if she could do with some joy in her life.’
Matt started to pick at the chips on her plate. ‘Sounds like she’s going to become one of your projects. I feel as if I should warn her.’
Lara smacked his hand as he reached for another chip. ‘Make your mind up. I thought you were keen on me making friends with the neighbours.’ Matt worked in medical equipment sales. Most of his clients were within a couple of hours’ drive away, but some were further afield and necessitated a night in a hotel. He hated leaving her alone.
Matt stood and stretched, picked up his plate. ‘I am. I am. I’m also keen on getting the bedsheets on before I’m too tired to do it.’ He put up a hand to stop her as she made to put her plate down. ‘No, you eat your dinner. I can do it.’
She gritted her teeth and let him go up alone. At some point he was going to have to let her do something. That was probably why she didn’t fancy her dinner, because she’d done nothing to work up any kind of appetite. Instead, once Matt was out of the room, she picked up her well-thumbed copy of Make Way for Joy from the bookshelf and flicked to one of the case studies sh
e remembered. Client E: Recently divorced. That was the one. Client E came to me feeling tired and apathetic. That was exactly how Shelley had looked. And anxious. Lara skim-read the rest of the page: … needed to cleanse her life… let go of the belongings which stored bad memories… Forgive… Let go… Find space…
Yes. Although she’d just met her, Lara could sense that this was exactly what Shelley needed. Matt could call it one of her ‘projects’ if he liked, but Lara had decided now. She would persuade Shelley to let her help sort out that box room. If nothing else, it would give Lara something to think about other than being pregnant. Because Matt wasn’t letting her think about anything else right now, and she was finding it more difficult by the day.
3
Shelley
‘So, you have new neighbours?’
Her colleague Flora had rolled her chair over as close to Shelley as she could stretch the lead on her earphones. It had been a slow morning for incoming calls and Flora had decided they had time for an unofficial break.
Shelley nodded. ‘Yes. Lara and Matt. I met her on Saturday. She seems nice.’
Lara had seemed nice, if a little pushy. But the whole time she’d been there, Shelley had felt uncomfortable. It had been bad enough when she’d gone upstairs – no one except Shelley and her mum had been up there for months – without having her poking about in that damn room. And then the falling photograph had meant she’d been forced to tell her that Greg had left. The woman was a whirlwind. Best to be avoided.
Flora took a chocolate from the box on Shelley’s desk, a gift from one of her clients, who had left his glasses on the Eurostar. Sometimes her job was less travel consultant and more amateur detective. Still, it was nice when someone said thank you.
The pale blue walls and oak effect desks in the office were as familiar as Shelley’s own lounge. Last year, when everything had imploded, it was coming here that had pulled her through. As part of this team, she was needed, appreciated, valued. Whatever was going on at home, coming to work was a refuge. Sitting at this desk, she wasn’t Greg’s former wife – she was Shelley Thomas: Travel Consultant. And she was good at her job.
‘Ugh. Turkish delight.’ Flora threw the remaining half of the chocolate in the bin. ‘Well, I think it’s great you’ve got someone new next door. It’s good to make new friends. Maybe she’ll do a better job than me of persuading you out of the house.’
Shelley ignored what was obviously Flora encouraging her to get out more and scanned the emails on her screen. There were messages waiting to be dealt with in twelve of her fifteen different inboxes, one for each of the clients she was responsible for.
Checking the list for any marked urgent, she found a flight to Munich that needed booking for tomorrow, a hotel reservation in Glasgow for next week and a cry for help from a new sales executive who was stranded in Belgium after their flight home had been cancelled. Best deal with that one first. She pointed at a flashing light on Flora’s phone, prompting her to spin herself back round, plaster on a smile and press the button to pick up. ‘Flora speaking, how can I help?’
Monday mornings were always busy: a relief after a near-silent weekend. Other than their conversation on Saturday, she hadn’t seen her new neighbour again. Maybe Lara didn’t want to fraternise with her now she knew she didn’t come as a pair, probably preferring to make friends with the family of four on the other side. It had been a revelation how inconvenient she’d become as a single. Messing up the even number at dinner or – even worse – having someone’s dodgy brother-in-law foisted on your right-hand side. Had she been that tactless when she and Greg were one of the happily marrieds?
Flora had finished on the phone and was checking her email too. She clapped her hands and called back over her shoulder, ‘There’s a couple of travel agent events coming up next month. One at that new hotel on the A3. Why don’t we go together?’
Flora was fun. Working with her was a definite bonus, if only she would stop trying to make Shelley socialise. It was more than a little irritating when people suggested she should ‘get back out there’. Her life hadn’t stopped after Greg left; she was doing fine. If she chose to spend her evenings indoors with a TV remote and an electric blanket, what business was it of theirs?
‘I think I’ll pass.’
Flora folded her arms and shook her head. ‘You never come. You always used to say you were already booked to go to some fancy event with Greg. But now…’ Flora tailed off. ‘You need to get out more.’
Shelley gritted her teeth. Why wouldn’t she take no for an answer? There was an email from their boss in her inbox. That would help to change the subject. ‘Have you seen this email from Steve? He’s coming in to do a whole staff briefing. What’s that about?’
Flora grimaced. ‘I’m not sure you want to hear it.’ She leaned forwards and lowered her voice. ‘Rumour has it we are going to be bought out by Travel Express.’
Fear clutched at Shelley’s stomach. Takeovers were common in their industry, and she knew how it worked. Larger companies absorbed smaller ones to grow their client base. What would happen to their team if Travel Express took over and decided to close this office? Would she lose her job? Be forced to move? After eight years here, the thought of being uprooted and going somewhere unknown was… unthinkable. This place was all that was keeping her putting one foot in front of the other right now. ‘I really hope it’s just a rumour.’
‘Me too.’ Flora was next to her again, scrutinising the map for the chocolate box. ‘I guess we’ll find out when Steve graces us with his presence.’
Shelley scanned the email to find out when he was coming. Wednesday. Two days for her to have the fear of more upheaval winding its way around her brain. More change that she’d be forced to accept and absorb and assimilate. And the worst part of it? The worst part was that the person she most needed to talk to about it was Greg. But he’d taken that option away. She had no one.
The phone rang again, but this time Flora’s smile dropped almost immediately. Putting the call on hold, she raised an eyebrow at Shelley. ‘It’s Dee. Shall I do the usual?’
Shelley’s stomach flipped as it always did now at the mention of that name. When was she going to give up? How many calls and unsolicited visits and stupid cards with kittens on them was it going to take for Dee to get it into her skull that Shelley didn’t want to hear her apologies or make peace? She nodded once at Flora. ‘Yes, please.’
Flora pressed a button to release the call. ‘I’m very sorry, but the other Ms Thomas isn’t available right now. Can I take a message?’
Shelley didn’t need to read the handwritten note that Flora passed her to know what it would say. Please call me.
4
Lara
Gardening was not Lara’s forte – and Matt was going to moan at her for doing it – but she couldn’t sit inside the house for another minute. On hectic days at Hoskins Legal Services she’d fantasised about a life of leisure in which she wouldn’t have to wake up to a 6.30 a.m. alarm and have people asking questions of her all day long. And now? Be careful what you wish for.
The handkerchief-sized front garden comprised a small lawn surrounded by overgrown flower beds. With no knowledge of plants, Lara hacked at what she hoped were weeds with a pair of garden shears she’d found in the shed. Once the tangled greenery was cleared away, she could try and work out what was underneath. It wasn’t difficult or strenuous but, crikey, it was boring.
That’s why when she heard Shelley slam her car door and open the gate, she almost jumped on her. Human contact at last. ‘Hey. How was your day? I envy you going to work. I’m going a little stir-crazy being at home all day. I’m not used to it. Who would have thought I’d miss slaving away at a hot computer?’
It wasn’t surprising that Shelley jumped; Lara sounded as if she was trying to fit a whole day’s conversation into one breath. Shelley hid her shock under a polite smile. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you down there. Mind on other things. Are you on maternity leave
already, then?’
Lara stretched and rubbed at her lower back with the palms of her hands. Maybe she had overdone it. ‘Kind of. I was a solicitor, working in a legal services company. It could get pretty intense. Then there were some complications with my pregnancy so I’m on extended medical leave. Hence the move. Our old house was huge and we couldn’t afford the mortgage on our other place on Matt’s salary and the pittance I’m getting while I’m off.’
For goodness’ sake, she needed to stop talking. This was the first time she’d opened her mouth all day apart from when Matt had called to check on her. Now she had verbal diarrhoea. Not only had she opened the pregnancy can of worms, she was also practically boasting about the size of her old house. Especially insensitive when her new one was the exact same size as Shelley’s. Say something nice. Quick. ‘Look, do you want to come in for a drink and some banana loaf? I made it this morning. I’m not exactly Mary Berry, so if it’s inedible, I’ve got an M&S sponge cake on standby. And I won’t make you drink my sludgy tea; I have coffee, I promise.’
Poor Shelley looked as if Lara had run her over with a steam roller. Matt often said that she overwhelmed people. Lara braced herself for a polite refusal and was surprised when Shelley reinstated her smile and accepted. ‘Okay. Thanks.’
Lara pointed the way into the lounge – unnecessary seeing as the house layout was the mirror image of Shelley’s – and saw Shelley flick her eyes around the room, which contained a sofa, a bookshelf and a coffee table. Nothing else. On the shelves were about twenty books.
‘When is the rest of your stuff coming?’
Lara held her hands out to encompass the room. ‘This is it. Downsizing was the perfect opportunity to clear out a load of our stuff. I told you about the book, didn’t I?’ She took it from the shelf and passed it to Shelley.
On the cover of the book was a smiling woman with her arms outstretched. ‘Make Way for Joy,’ read Shelley. She looked up at Lara. ‘Who is Joy?’
The Forgotten Wife Page 2
