The Forgotten Wife

by Emma Robinson

  Lara laughed and took the book from her. ‘No. Joy. Being joyful.’ She flicked to the start and read aloud. ‘Possessions can suck your energy. Only those which give you joy deserve a place in your home.’

  Shelley’s doubting expression was much the same as the look Matt had given Lara when she’d first introduced him to the idea. ‘I’m not sure how much joy I get from my toaster. I need it though. What about the things you need?’

  Lara returned the book to Shelley and grinned. ‘Speaking of toasters, take a seat and I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Shelley put the book down on the coffee table. ‘I’ll follow you.’

  Lara wished she wouldn’t. The kitchen was particularly shabby and decorated in more shades of brown than she’d known existed. Matt had promised they would get it done before the baby came but there wasn’t a lot of spare cash. She’d been browsing online for ideas to freshen it up on a budget.

  ‘It’s clean in here, but you might want to shield your eyes from the dodgy seventies tiling. It’s not sleek and modern like yours. Anyway, how was your day at work? What is it that you do?’

  Lara held up a tin of instant coffee as she spoke and Shelley nodded. ‘Yes, please. White, no sugar. I’m a travel consultant. We make travel arrangements for corporate clients. Well, I am at the moment. There are rumours of a takeover, which might mean office closures.’

  Lara filled the kettle and switched it on. ‘Oh no, that sucks. Are you in the firing line?’

  Shelley rubbed at her temples. ‘I don’t know yet. Often in these situations they will try and find jobs for employees somewhere, but the new company is based in central London. It would mean a much longer commute, which I don’t fancy.’

  Lara shuffled through the different tea bags in the tin without much enthusiasm. They really were disgusting. Matt had bought several boxes of different varieties from one of his pharmaceutical clients who had a sideline in complementary therapies and had made her promise to give them a fair try. Picking the least offensive-looking one, she dropped it into her mug. ‘Would it be worth commuting for? Do you like it? Your current job, I mean.’

  Shelley tucked her hair behind her ears, pausing as if considering how to phrase a response. ‘Yes. I do. I mean, it’s not always the most exciting job in the world. But I’m good at it. I like the people I work with too. I really can’t imagine going anywhere else.’

  Shelley’s hesitant words didn’t come across as overwhelming enthusiasm. In fact, she sounded just like the case study in the book about someone changing their job. Lara put her hands on the kitchen table and leaned forward. ‘This isn’t necessarily a disaster, it could be an opportunity. A change could be a really good thing. You have to read the joy book. Take it home with you. A dull job is like a bad possession. You need to rid yourself and find a job that brings you joy.’ Lara had loved her job. Guiding people through difficult documents, ensuring they protected themselves, leading them through the processes involved in some of the most pivotal decisions in their lives. Being a solicitor was hard work but it was definitely rewarding.

  Shelley shrugged. ‘I’m not particularly ambitious. Never have been. My job has always suited me; it fit into our life…’ She hesitated. ‘Greg always used to talk about how full on it is, being a trader in the City. I wouldn’t want a job like that.’

  She clearly hadn’t explained herself properly. When they went back through to the lounge, she’d show Shelley the chapter. ‘It doesn’t have to be a career; it just needs to make you happy. And not steal your energy. It should revitalise you, not diminish you. Honestly, I know it sounds like a lot of hippie hokum, but that book has changed my life.’

  The kettle clicked off and she turned to pour. It did sound exactly like a lot of hippie hokum. If someone had introduced it to her two years ago, she would have laughed it off. But she’d been a different person two years ago.

  Shelley looked interested. ‘Changed your life how?’

  Well, that was going to be a little tricky to explain. ‘Let’s go sit on a comfy seat.’

  In the lounge, the woman on the cover still beamed at them from the coffee table, and Lara picked up the book with the reverence due to a religious text. ‘The whole premise of the book is that we litter our lives with possessions and tasks and people that actually prevent us from becoming the person we are destined to be. We hold onto things because we think we should or because we’re afraid of what we will do without them. Like your box room with the aggressive photo frames and the stuff your ex left behind. Do you really need to keep all those things? Do they bring you joy? Why doesn’t he come and collect them anyway?’

  ‘He doesn’t want them. Doesn’t need them, I guess.’ Shelley’s shoulders rose and she drummed her fingers on the side of her mug. Was she annoyed? Maybe Lara had been too forceful? But then Shelley’s shoulders dropped and her face drained of energy. ‘It just seems like a lot of effort to sort it all out, to be honest.’

  That sounded more promising. Maybe she was persuadable? Lara shuffled forwards eagerly. ‘Well, I could help you. I love a project and I have three months to kill before my life is apparently going to be “irrevocably changed”, according to my mother.’ She motioned to her burgeoning belly. ‘Please let me help you sort it out.’

  Shelley looked uncertain; she was losing her. ‘I don’t know.’

  God, she wanted to shake her. How could she be this indecisive? They were roughly the same age but Shelley seemed to move in slow motion. Her ex-husband was off enjoying his new life, and there she was next door, going through the motions of a life. What she needed was someone to take her by the hand and help her move on, and even if they weren’t destined to become best buddies, Lara could do that. In fact, she was feeling more and more excited by the idea of the two of them sorting out that catastrophic room. Definitely better than gardening alone. ‘Come on, let me. It’ll give me something to occupy myself. We can do it together.’ Could she push her a little harder? Should she? ‘Plus, if you do lose your job, you’ll have a lovely tidy spare room to offer to a lodger.’

  Shelley blanched. Had Lara gone too fast and scared her off? But then she seemed to consider it. ‘Maybe.’

  Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps. Plenty of her clients over the years had been just like Shelley. Sometimes people just needed a gentle push to do what was needed. Though they’d barely spent any time together, Lara had noticed a shadow fall across Shelley’s face whenever Lara talked about the stuff in that room. Many of the women she’d helped in difficult circumstances had had the same haunted look that she saw in Shelley’s face. Whatever her ex-husband had done to her, it must have been pretty bad.

  5

  Shelley

  Today Shelley was a new level of tired. Having woken up on the sofa at 4 a.m. – never a good time to be awake – she had struggled to get back to sleep. Although it was early June, it was still cold downstairs at that time of night, but there was no way she wanted to take herself upstairs to an even colder bed. Thoughts and memories and fears had battled for her attention for the next hour until light had seeped in through the blinds and she’d given up. Even BBC News 24 with its repetitive ticker tape across the bottom of the screen was preferable to spending time inside her own brain.

  Now she had her face propped up on her palm as she flicked through emails; she just couldn’t focus on anything. Flora put a cup of coffee down on her desk and she smiled up gratefully. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You looked like you needed it. Not really full of the joys of spring this morning, eh?’

  That reminded her. She leaned down under her desk and rooted around in her handbag to find the book that Lara had insisted she take. She really hadn’t intended on seeing her again so soon, but the offer of cake – and company – had caught her on the hop and she hadn’t wanted to appear rude. Unfortunately, it had also given Lara the opportunity to suggest, once again, an assault on her box room. Pulling the book out, she held it up to Flora. ‘Have you heard anything about this?’

>   Flora peered at it – too vain to wear reading glasses unless forced to by the tiny print on some travel documents. ‘Make Way for Joy. Who is Joy?’

  Flora was a complete tonic, she really was. Shelley smiled. ‘That’s exactly what I said. It’s a book my neighbour gave me.’

  Flora flipped it over and read the blurb. ‘If we allow our homes and our hearts to become cluttered, it becomes difficult to see the joy in our everyday lives.’ She looked over at her desk, which was covered with tissues, pens, half a packet of liquorice toffees and an uncountable number of paperclips. ‘That might explain a lot.’

  ‘I think I might be my neighbour’s new project.’ Shelley held out her hand for the book. She still hadn’t decided whether to let Lara help her sort out her mess. ‘What time is Steve due in?’

  ‘Four. Do you think he’s going to tell us the office is closing?’

  Shelley’s stomach plummeted. ‘I really don’t know.’

  * * *

  Dressed in a slim-fitting navy suit, Italian leather shoes and dark pink tie, Steve arrived in reception at exactly 4 p.m. He asked the staff to assemble in the conference room, an optimistic euphemism for a rectangular room with a round table and six chairs. The six chairs were filled, and the other members of staff – twenty-three in total – stood or leaned against the wall. Steve took the seat in front of the window, his fingers interlaced, elbows on the table, smile overly reassuring. It was going to be bad.

  ‘Thanks for all being here so promptly. I know you’re busy. In fact, it’s due to that and the excellent work that you’ve been doing that we’ve had interest in what we’re doing here from Travel Express.’

  That was it then. They were being taken over by a bigger company. Shelley was barely listening as Steve evangelised about the opportunities within a bigger organisation, the facilities at their main office, the fact that there would potentially be roles for all of them if they wished to apply. A hot rage began to boil in her stomach. Why now? Why me?

  A few people asked questions about timeframes and roles and other logistics, and Shelley had to fight the urge to scream. Life was so bloody unfair. She had done everything right at work, been on time, worked hard, put in extra hours when they needed it. Just like she’d been a good wife. And where had that got her? Dumped by the wayside. Her fingers clenched and she pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands. Don’t listen. Just let the words wash over you.

  Once Steve had drawn the meeting to a close, she tried to get out as quickly as she could, but he called her back. ‘Shelley, can I have a quick word?’

  Oh no. What was he going to say? Had he picked up on her anger? If he had, he’d probably be surprised. She was a conscientious employee, and he’d never had cause to speak to her about her work, except in glowing terms. It wasn’t his fault that the company was being sold, so her anger at him was irrational. Was it because he reminded her of Greg? They didn’t look alike – Steve was blond and slim, not dark and broad like Greg – but they both dressed in expensive suits, were both ambitious, were both able to get what they wanted through their charm. Was that why she felt so flustered speaking to him?

  Steve leaned back so that he was almost sitting on the table, crossed his arms and tilted his head. ‘So, big news, eh?’

  Confrontation wasn’t Shelley’s style, but she wasn’t about to pretend everything was fine. ‘You could say that.’

  He nodded slowly, seemed to be choosing his words. ‘I wanted to talk to you on your own because there’s an opportunity for a—’ A buzzing in his jacket interrupted him. He slid out his phone and squinted at the number. ‘Sorry – I just need to quickly take this.’

  Great. Now she was stuck here trying not to listen to a personal call. ‘Hi, Mia… Yes, of course, as soon as I can… Look, Mia, I’ll call you back in ten minutes, okay?’

  He sighed as he ended the call. ‘Sorry about that.’ He leaned forwards. ‘Look, I can tell you’re in shock. That’s why I’ve come to see you myself. You’ve had enough to deal with lately.’

  This again. She wasn’t an invalid. ‘Thanks.’

  Steve nodded. ‘And also because there will be a more senior position available when the takeover is finalised, and I really think you should go for it. You’re ready for the step up to a management role.’

  Management role? Career progression had been the last thing on her mind lately. But now she was on her own, maybe she should think about a position with higher pay? ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Just think about it. There will be more information coming out in the next few days about the roles that are available.’ He stood to leave. ‘I have to shoot off now, I’ve got a client the other side of Guilford who I need to see.’ He paused with his hand on the door handle. ‘You really do seem as if you’re in shock. It’s mid-afternoon, why don’t you head home early?’

  He looked at her so intently, she felt a blush creeping up her cheeks. Why was he being so nice to her? Leaving early was a good idea, though; she wasn’t sure she would be able to turn her mind to work, and it had been really quiet this afternoon. ‘Actually, I might do that. Thanks.’

  He smiled, gave her a mock salute and strode across the office, calling goodbye to everyone as he left, probably heading off to ring that Mia girl back.

  Flora was on the phone when Shelley came back to her seat, so she scrawled a quick note to say she had to leave early, grabbed her bag and left.

  Leaving early meant her journey home was even quicker than normal and she was home just after five with the evening stretching in front of her like an abyss. There was no housework to do and her stomach was too knotted up to eat so it was pointless making dinner. She needed to do something though. Call her mother? No, she wouldn’t be able to keep her voice upbeat, and then her mum would insist on scheduling a visit and – much as she loved her – she couldn’t face that at the moment.

  The remote control was on the coffee table so she picked it up and flicked on the TV. There was nothing on. Nothing she wanted to watch, anyway. They’d barely watched normal TV when Greg had lived here, preferring to work their way through shows on box sets. She needed to stop thinking about Greg.

  She flicked off the TV. Was it too early for a glass of wine? That was something else she’d never done before the last twelve months: drunk alcohol alone. In fact, she’d never drunk much during the week at all. They would sometimes open a bottle of wine with their dinner, but she would only ever have one glass during the week. She pushed the memory of their evening mealtimes from her head. That was not going to help.

  There was a nice bottle of red wine in the cupboard so she poured herself a glass and then returned to the sitting room. It was ridiculous, sitting there in silence staring at the wall. What about some music? There was a remote for the DAB radio too. Greg was always one for top quality electronics. She flicked it on to Radio 2. Adele singing about how sometimes love lasts and sometimes it hurts. It took several progressively aggressive attempts before she managed to turn it off.

  Sitting still in the silence, fear and anxiety hardened in her gut and the anger which was never far away used them as steps to climb into her brain. She thought again of Steve, how unsettled she’d felt listening to the plans for the takeover. Why does everything have to change? She gulped at the wine, even though it hurt to swallow, barely tasting it. When it was finished, she thought about pouring another glass. No. That was dangerous. But she couldn’t sit here like this, she needed to do something.

  This must be what it was like for Lara every day, trying to find stuff to fill her time. Shelley didn’t know if Lara had friends who she saw in the daytime – they hadn’t had any visitors to the house that Shelley had noticed, but she wasn’t here during the day. At least Lara had something to look forward to in the evening: her husband would come home and they would have the evening together. Whereas Shelley had no one and nothing. In the early days, she’d tried to go to bed by 9 p.m. so that the next day – and work – could come sooner, but it was fru
itless. Her brain needed to be utterly exhausted in order to go to sleep.

  Slipping her hands up the back of her shirt, she unclipped her bra then pulled the strap from her left shoulder so that she could pull the bra out of her right sleeve. The first time she’d done that in front of Greg, he’d been amazed. She hadn’t liked to tell him that most girls can do that by the time they’re fourteen. Catching herself smiling at the memory, anger rolled over her again. Why was he still in her head? It had been a year. Even the reams of paperwork had been finalised months ago. But the memories still had the power to knock her over, and that was why she hadn’t been able to sort out that room on her own.

  Before she could think twice about it, she left the house and knocked on Lara’s door, arms crossed over her chest to hide her lack of bra.

  Lara answered quickly then looked surprised. ‘Sorry, I thought you were Matt. He’s due home any minute.’

  Was that her way of saying that she didn’t want to invite Shelley in? Greg used to get annoyed if people dropped by unannounced. Unless it was Dee. ‘I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to say yes. Yes, please, I’d like you to help me sort out that box room. I’ll start reading the book tonight.’

  A smile spread across Lara’s face. ‘That’s great. How about I come over this Saturday?’

  6

  Lara

  When Lara knocked on Shelley’s door on Saturday morning, dressed in a man’s shirt that was three sizes too big and a pair of black leggings, Matt was still lecturing her. He had started earlier in the week when she’d first told him her plan to help Shelley sort out the room and he hadn’t really stopped. You’re overdoing it. You should rest. Don’t you dare lift anything. Did he think she was a complete idiot?