‘After the numbness wore off, and all the drugs they gave me at the hospital, I got angry. Really angry and I didn’t know what to do with it. I wanted to shout at you. But you can’t, can you? You can’t shout at someone who has died because that would make you a really bad person. Especially if it was someone you loved.’ Her voice croaked and she brought her fingers to her lips to steady them.
‘So, I shouted at Dee instead. I yelled at her. Told her it was her fault that all this happened. That it was because of the baby and that I had only wanted to have the baby because of her. And I told her that I didn’t want to see her because she reminded me of you but that wasn’t the reason. I just couldn’t bear to see her bump. Her baby bump.’ She put her hands up to her face in shame. ‘I can’t believe how horrible I am.’
She sat there for a while. A bird called above her head and the wind whispered through a tree off to the right. Otherwise, there was total silence. She took a deep breath and sat up again.
‘I’ve made a new friend. Ironically, she’s pregnant, but she’s been good for me. I’ve told her about you. We’ve talked about the last few months, the feeling sad and lonely and… angry.’ She paused. How could she explain the anger? The feeling that he’d abandoned her? It wasn’t logical; she knew he hadn’t chosen to go but that was exactly how it felt.
At the back of the bench was a brass plaque: For Gladys from Arthur. All my love always. Maybe she should have a plaque engraved for Greg? Maybe that would make this all seem more real. Because it wasn’t. A year on and she was still expecting him to appear from somewhere. That there had been an awful mistake.
‘The thing is, I’ve got used to the fact you’re not here. I had to. Going to work, getting the shopping, cooking for one – it’s become normal. But I can’t think about you never coming back. You were always there in my life. Always steady. Always kind and good and funny and I don’t know how to be if you’re not here.’
Her nose started to run and she rummaged in her bag for a tissue. She blew her nose loudly. The loud trumpet call that used to make him laugh. How can such a big sound come from such a small nose?
She pressed her lips together. ‘Dee was right, you know. I did change. I changed the music I listened to and the books I read and even the colour paint I liked on the walls. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t make me. I don’t even think you were aware that I did it. For God’s sake, even I wasn’t aware that I was doing it.’
It was true. At no point did she decide that she was going to put his wants and desires before her own. It hadn’t been like that.
‘It didn’t feel like I was making sacrifices. I wanted to like the things you liked. You knew so much more than I did about everything – wine, restaurants, music – and I was happy to learn. We were a team, right? A couple. A perfect fit. But then there was something I did want. Something I wanted very much.’
The sodden tissue was no match for the tears that came now. There was still no one in the garden but she had gone past the point of caring even if there was. ‘I was so angry about the baby, Greg. I know this is crazy but it felt like I’d asked you for one thing in all our marriage and I was being punished for it. Losing a baby wasn’t bad enough – I had to lose you, too? All the feelings got mixed up and it was just too much to bear. I pushed it down and shut the door and tried everything I could not to have to face it.’
She leaned forwards so that her elbows were on her knees and her face was in her palms, and she let the grief roll over her in waves. The anger, the pain, the disappointment. Over it rolled. She let all the feelings come, one after the other, her chest battered by them like a small boat in an angry ocean.
Eventually, the tempest calmed and she righted herself. It was a relief to let these feelings loose but the pain in her chest was still there. Greg was still gone. She was still alone. This was supposed to be cathartic; it was supposed to help her process her feelings, but there was no joy that could replace the loss of the most important person she had ever known.
Back in their religious studies class, she and Dee had been horrified when their mild-mannered teacher had explained the ancient Hindu custom of suttee where a widow would throw herself onto the funeral pyre of her husband. Right now, she felt she could understand how that might come about. It was exhausting and horrible and terrifying to think about living without him. Actual living, not the existing she had been doing.
Would it have been easier if they had had a child? That’s what people said, wasn’t it? What the women on the widow forums kept saying to each other: You have to keep going for the children. But if you don’t have a child, then you have to keep going on your own. You do have to keep going though. Somehow, you have to.
‘I know now that I have to face it. I have to start accepting that you’re gone. I don’t have a choice, do I? About living again, I mean. About finding out who I am without you. I need to make a start. Make some decisions for myself.’
Like the new job that Steve wanted her to apply for. She couldn’t look to Greg for help anymore; only she could decide whether she wanted to go to the interview or not. Although at least she did have a friend who could help now. She’d call Lara as soon as she got home.
34
Shelley
Maybe it was the gentleness, or the warmth, or the fact it was a long time since Shelley had been touched, but tears threatened at the backs of her eyes. She closed them firmly and tried to concentrate on something else. ‘That’s it,’ said the girl. ‘Just relax.’
It had been Lara’s idea to have her hair restyled. It felt like such a cliché, but Lara had insisted that a new haircut might give her the confidence she needed to go for this new job. She hadn’t had her hair cut since the funeral – it had felt like too much effort – and she was nervous about having anything too drastic.
Under normal conditions, it would have been nice to relax into the head massage, but things like this were fraught with danger for her; the unguarded moments were the most difficult. Times when something made her relax or smile or forget were actually cruel, because when she remembered again, grief punched her twice as hard.
As if she needed further punishment, ‘Creep’ by Radiohead started to play on the radio: one of Greg’s favourites. Sitting with her head laid back on the basin, throat stretched, Shelley couldn’t breathe. Her chest began to tighten and her lungs wouldn’t expand. She couldn’t just sit here listening to this. She couldn’t.
‘That’s it, you’re all washed and ready.’
Thank God. She sat up as Marie wrapped a thick towel around her head. Just don’t listen to the song. ‘Thank you,’ she just about managed to croak through her tight throat.
‘You’re welcome. Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee? Glass of wine?’
A wine would definitely help. She tried not to drink during the day but this was an emergency. ‘White wine would be great if you have one.’
‘I’ll pop you back over with your friend and I’ll bring one over. Edward will be with you shortly.’
Lara put down the magazine she was reading and smiled as Shelley sat down next to her on the sofa. ‘Did you get the head massage? Isn’t it fabulous?’ She tilted her head. ‘Are you okay?’
Shelley waved a hand around in the air which was full of strident guitar chords. ‘This song. Greg’s favourite.’ Her lips started to tremble. Must not cry.
‘Oh, Shelley, I’m sorry – shall I ask them to change it?’
Shelley shook her head. The song was nearly finished anyway and she didn’t want to make a fuss. She just wanted to get her hair cut and get out of here. ‘No, just talk to me. At me. Whatever, just talk about anything.’
Lara sprang into action. She flipped open one of the magazines which she had marked by putting another inside it. ‘Okay. Let’s talk hair. I saw this and think it would look fabulous on you. What do you think?’
It’s hard to think when you are trying to stop your ears from hearing, your eyes from leaking and your brain from r
emembering. Which picture was Lara even referring to? That one? ‘It’s quite short.’
Lara looked at it and shrugged. ‘Not terribly. It’s not shaved or anything. It’s chic. And you have a great shape face to carry it off.’
Shelley put a hand to her jaw. Did she? It felt more angular than it had ever been. Like her bones were emerging. ‘I don’t know. It seems a bit dramatic.’
Lara raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s up to you, obviously, but I thought you wanted a change.’
Dee’s comments about the length of her hair came to mind. That she had only kept it long because Greg liked it that way. ‘You’re right, I do. Maybe we can take it over with us and ask your hairdresser if he can do that but a longer version.’
Lara folded her arms. ‘Do you mean just a trim of what you already have?’
Shelley could see her point. ‘Am I being a coward?’
‘A little bit. But I can forgive you. In the circumstances. Oh, look. There’s Edward over there.’ She pointed in the direction of a tall, thin man with a shaved head and a tattoo of a pair of scissors on his neck.
Was that trendy looking man the one who was going to cut her hair? This was beginning to feel like a terrible idea. Her fear must have shown on her face because Lara nudged her. ‘It’ll be fine. Honestly.’
Lara must wonder if she’d ever had her hair cut before. ‘Sorry. I know it’ll be fine. Thanks. For booking the appointment, I mean. And for coming with me to hold my hand.’
‘Don’t thank me. I’m enjoying myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had a girly day out like this.’ Lara leaned back in her seat and folded her arms over her bump; it had really grown this week. ‘The women I used to go out with – shopping, drinks, pamper days – have all got young children now and it was just… difficult for me. And for them, I think.’
There was no need for any further explanation. ‘Yeah, I think I pushed a lot of people away. And there were others who just kind of disappeared.’
Lara looked interested. ‘Like who?’
Shelley could remember one in particular. ‘There was one called Emily, a good friend of mine. Of Greg’s and mine.’ Saying his name out loud was still not easy. ‘We used to go out for dinner with her and her husband sometimes.’
‘So, why don’t you want to see her?’
Shelley took a deep breath. ‘She hasn’t been in touch once since Greg… since he died. Actually, that’s not true. She sent a card about a week after – sorry for your loss, let us know if you need anything – but nothing since.’
Lara frowned. ‘Did they not come to the funeral?’
Shelley shook her head. ‘Nope. I sent an email to everyone we knew saying that all were welcome, and her husband replied with apologies that they couldn’t make it. Which is understandable, I mean, not everyone can get a day off work in the middle of the week.’
‘I’m getting the feeling that there’s more.’
Shelley nodded. ‘About a month after the funeral, I was walking along the high street and I saw her coming towards me. I know that she saw me too. But just as I was about to put up a hand to wave, she crossed over the road and then started walking back in the opposite direction.’
Lara opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. She screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘That’s probably how she felt. Difference is, she didn’t even try.’
Marie appeared with their drinks and showed them over to the stylist’s chair. Moments later, the tall thin man with the scissors tattoo swept into their space. ‘Good afternoon, ladies! Lara! So lovely to see you! You are positively blooming!’
Lara smiled. ‘I know that means fat. Just say it.’
‘Not at all. Your skin is radiant.’ He turned to look at Shelley. ‘Hi. I’m Edward. Sorry to keep you waiting, it’s a really busy afternoon. Lara said that you are looking for a new style?’
That sounded scary. ‘Uh, yes. Well, just a nice cut, really. I’ve had my hair like this for a long time. Lara thinks a change will do me good.’
Edward moved her chair so that he was standing behind her and they were both looking in the mirror. He started to pull on the strands of hair either side of her head. It was surprisingly long. ‘So, you must have been growing your hair for a while. How brave are you willing to be?’
Lara held out the magazine. ‘We liked this one.’
Shelley still wasn’t sure. ‘Maybe a longer version of it though.’
Edward shook his head. ‘I think you’d need to have it short at the back, but we can maybe keep some of the length at the front. Will you trust me?’
He looked at her reflection intently. What could she say? His scissors and comb were poised like weapons. Lara was nodding at her. There was no way out. ‘Okay.’
Edward spun her chair around to face him. ‘You can’t look until it’s done.’
As his scissors flew over her scalp, Edward chatted to her and Lara. Well, more to Lara, really. Shelley seemed to have lost the use of her voice. Thankfully, the music had changed to something that she didn’t recognise, but telling Lara about Emily had made her consider how few people she talked to these days. Apart from Lara, there was her mum, Flora and, strangely, Steve. When had her other friends given up on her and trickled away?
‘Are you okay under there?’ Edward leaned down towards her with an overly bright smile. ‘You’re awfully quiet.’
‘I’m fine, thanks, just listening to you both.’ There seemed to be an awful lot of hair on her gown and around her feet. ‘It’s not going to be too short, is it?’
‘Wait and see.’ Edward winked, clearly the kind of man used to getting his own way with women.
She tried to catch Lara’s eye, but Lara was watching Edward’s hands fly around Shelley’s head and sipping her orange juice. Shelley took another gulp of her wine.
After about three weeks, no one had come. Well, her mother had been there, obviously, and Dee had tried, but Shelley hadn’t wanted to see her. They hadn’t spent time alone together since the pregnancy announcement when Dee had been so unpleasant, and then on the day Greg had died. She knew she would speak to her again, just not yet. As for everyone else, they must have returned to their normal lives. Towards the end of the third month, after a particularly terrible week in which she hadn’t got out of her pyjamas until her mother had come to see her mid-afternoon, she had decided to return to work.
Another big chunk of hair fell onto her lap. Her heart sank with it. What was she going to look like?
Finally, the cutting was over and Edward picked up a hairdryer the size of a bazooka. Its volume was mercifully loud enough to make it impossible to hear what he and Lara were saying.
Her head was getting hotter and hotter. Should she mention it? Just as she opened her mouth to say something, he shut it off. Three more flicks of the comb and she was done.
Lara clapped her hands. ‘You look amazing!’
Edward smiled at her. ‘Ready?’
He spun the chair around and she saw his reflection beaming back at her from the top of the mirror. Below his face was a very sharp bob. She turned her head left, then right. Yes, it was definitely her underneath that. She put a hand to the back of her neck and swept it upwards until it made contact with her hair. She felt bare. Even her face seemed to have changed. This wasn’t what she’d expected. Greg had loved her hair. Had told her many times how beautiful it was. And now it was gone. The very hair he had threaded through his fingers was on the floor around her feet.
Lara was of the opinion it suited her at least. ‘You look fantastic, Shelley. Every inch the professional woman – perfect for the interview. What do you think?’
She couldn’t think. The noise in her head was back. She wanted to get out of there.
‘I love it. Thank you,’ she lied.
35
Lara
Shelley looked very different. Younger. Lighter, even. Her face had been opening up over the last few weeks and she had lost the dark, hood
ed look from when they’d first met. And the new hairstyle really did suit her.
But when she came over to Lara’s house on Monday evening – Matt was going to be late again – Shelley didn’t look so sure. As she walked through to the lounge, she kept touching the back of her head as if feeling for her missing hair. As soon as they sat down, she turned to Lara. ‘I know I said I loved my new hair, but I don’t. I absolutely hate it.’
Oh no. Was this Lara’s fault? She was the one who’d recommended the hairdresser. The one who’d encouraged Shelley to be brave. ‘But it looks really great on you. Maybe it’ll take a bit of getting used to.’
Shelley shook her head. ‘Nope. I might get over the shock of it, but I shouldn’t have had it done. I should have said what I wanted.’
She did blame Lara. What could she say? ‘I’m sorry, Shelley. I really am. I thought…’ She tailed off as Shelley lifted a hand to stop her.
‘You don’t need to apologise. I should have spoken up. I don’t blame you; I blame me.’ Shelley sighed and collapsed back into the sofa. ‘Why can’t I make a decision for myself, Lara? What’s wrong with me?’
So, Shelley wasn’t angry with her? That was a relief. ‘You need to give yourself a break. Old habits die hard. You’ll get there.’
‘Thanks.’ Shelley smiled. ‘How are you feeling, anyway?’
‘Fine. I’m absolutely fine.’ Now that Lara was sure Shelley wasn’t about to yell at her, she sat down at the other end of the sofa. ‘Matt and I are in a much better place since the talk, but I still couldn’t persuade him to go out with his friends unless I promised I would have someone over to “keep me company”.’ She made inverted commas in the air with her fingers. ‘Which is why I asked you over to babysit me.’
‘Well, as we can’t have alcohol, I brought some elderflower pressé which we can pretend is Prosecco.’ Shelley slid a dark green bottle onto the table.
That was kind of her. ‘Thanks, but you can have a proper drink if you want one.’
The Forgotten Wife Page 18
