The Forgotten Wife

by Emma Robinson

  Shelley had the kind of slim build that would look great in a tailored jacket. Why did she seem intent on hiding herself under floaty fabric or long, shapeless clothes like the striped tunic and leggings she was wearing today?

  The women’s suit section was small but there were still a few options. Lara held out her right hand while her left rested on her belly. ‘So, what colour do you prefer?’

  Shelley picked up the sleeve of a beige skirt suit and let it fall again. ‘How about this?’

  ‘Mmm.’ Lara looked at it and then her. ‘I’m not sure it goes with your colouring. How about this navy one?’ She picked a hanger from the rail and held it up.

  Shelley’s arms were crossed. She shook her head. ‘No.’

  Lara liked it, but fair enough. ‘The colour or the style?’

  Shelley pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath. ‘Both. Look, I know you are trying to help me and I appreciate it, but this is my job interview. I need to choose the outfit I want to wear.’

  Lara could have kicked herself. This was exactly what they’d talked about. How had she been so insensitive? ‘I’m sorry. I’m being so bossy! You’re completely right. I won’t say another word.’ She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key.

  Shelley looked relieved; it had obviously made her uncomfortable. ‘Don’t apologise. I was letting you do it. Old habits die hard. But it’s time for me to make some decisions for myself, right?’

  Lara nodded. ‘Absolutely right. Do you want to go back and pick up that dress you liked? What size do you need?’

  ‘Sixteen, please.’

  Was she being serious? There was nothing of her. ‘You are not a size sixteen.’

  Shelley put her hands on her hips. ‘Yes, I am. I’ve been a size sixteen for about the last six years.’

  Lara shook her head. ‘Maybe you were, but I’d guess you were a twelve now. Maybe even a generous ten.’

  ‘It’s very kind of you to flatter me but—’

  Lara held up her hands. ‘Okay. I’m not going to argue.’

  Five minutes later, she tried not to gloat when Shelley stuck her head out of the changing rooms. ‘Okay, you win. Can you get me a smaller size?’

  Losing weight was another side effect of grief. Lara had had to force herself to eat so she could maintain a healthy weight for the fertility treatment. It would have been far easier to just not bother. Shelley had obviously been the same. ‘Did you not realise that everything you wear is baggy? You were right about the dress though; that style looks great on you. I’d definitely give you the job. Do you want me to get anything else while I’m picking up the smaller size?’

  ‘Yes, please. Can you grab the jacket that was next to it? The cream one?’

  Cream? She had to be joking. Lara opened her mouth to suggest she went for something brighter and then closed it again. This was Shelley’s choice. ‘I’ll be back in two minutes.’

  Once she had on the right size, and the cream jacket, Shelley stood in front of Lara and gave her a twirl. ‘So, what do you think?’

  Lara stood back and looked at Shelley. It wasn’t what she would have chosen for a job interview but that really wasn’t important. Shelley had picked the dress that she wanted. That’s what mattered. ‘You look really great.’

  Shelley was looking in the mirror again, and Lara stood behind her. Their smiling faces reflected back at them. Then another face appeared alongside them. A woman. She was speaking. ‘Shelley?’

  Lara watched as Shelley’s smile froze on her face and her skin paled. They both turned. The woman stepped forwards with her arms outstretched. ‘Oh, Shelley, it is you. I’ve wanted to see you so much. How are you?’

  Lara had no idea who this was, but she had the urge to move closer to Shelley to protect her. Was this another friend who Shelley had seen nothing of since Greg’s death? She didn’t want anyone to upset her friend, especially when she was just beginning to have a little more confidence in herself.

  But Shelley allowed this woman to hug her, and after a few seconds, she put her arms around the woman and hugged her back. Lara moved away slightly to give them some space. When they pulled apart, still holding each other’s hands, Shelley turned to explain.

  ‘Lara, this is Dee.’

  40

  Shelley

  Chinking china, clinking cutlery and burbled conversation: John Lewis’s café was noisy and busy and possibly not the best place for an attempted reconciliation with your estranged best friend. Dee insisted that Shelley find a seat while she queued for coffee and Shelley was grateful for the opportunity to collect her thoughts and slow her heart rate down. She should have been getting used to this; there had been more big conversations in cafés in the last few weeks than she’d had in her whole life.

  After they’d met Dee by the changing rooms, Lara had made an excuse about wanting to look in the baby department and left them to it. Shelley had slipped out of the suit and shirt as quickly as she could, heart beating at the thought of Dee waiting for her outside. Despite that hug, what would she think of her? New haircut, clothes shopping, laughing? Would she be angry that Shelley seemed to be happily getting on with her life? Not that she was, but she could see how that might look. What was Dee going to say?

  But when she’d emerged from the changing rooms, Dee had just looked overjoyed to see her. Practically ecstatic when she’d agreed to go for a drink. And now she was coming over with two mugs of coffee and what looked like some kind of biscuits.

  She started speaking as soon as she slid the tray onto the table. ‘I’m so happy to see you. I was getting to the point of just turning up at your house, but I know how much you’d hate that. How have you been?’

  Actually, Shelley didn’t mind; it had been Greg who wasn’t keen on unexpected guests. ‘I should be asking you that. How is it being a mum? Congratulations on the baby.’

  ‘Your nephew, you mean? He’s great. He’s called Jacob and he’s with Jamie today. I’m having a couple of hours to myself, although I must admit, I’m missing him already. What a saddo, eh?’ Dee pulled a self-mocking face but Shelley could see the shine in her eyes at the mention of her son.

  ‘Did you get my card? And the gift?’ Shelley’s mother had bought a blanket for her to send and had even picked out the congratulations card. Jacob had been born during the early days with the antidepressants where Shelley had been moving through treacle. Her mum had laid the card out in front of her and handed her a pen as if she were a small child who had just learned to write.

  Dee nodded. ‘I did. Thanks. I would rather have seen you though.’

  Guilt flooded in. She had been so selfish. Dee had had her first child and Shelley hadn’t even been to visit her. She stared down into the latte that Dee had bought. ‘I know. I’m sorry, Dee. I really am so sorry. I just couldn’t handle it. It was too much.’

  Dee reached over and placed a hand on Shelley’s. She lowered her voice. ‘I get it, Shelley. I do. But shutting me out won’t change anything. I’m grieving too. Greg was my brother. Losing him is like losing half of my childhood. Who am I going to laugh about crazy Nanny Weena with? Who will remember the time Dad took us to the cinema and fell asleep and had to be woken up by the attendant because he was snoring? Who will understand the particular brand of emotional blackmail our mother employed to make us do what she wanted?’ A sob took her breath and she put a hand over her mouth.

  ‘Oh, Dee. I have been so selfish. I just locked down. It was too painful, and seeing you… It would have been unbearable. And the baby…’

  Dee was crying openly and Shelley was barely keeping it together herself. People were glancing over at them. Should she stop her? Maybe they could go somewhere else? No. She’d spent too much time worrying what other people thought. And where had that got her? This was Dee. Her best friend. Breaking her heart in front of her.

  ‘Shelley, I’ve been desperate to see you. I wanted to cry with you. I just wanted to check that you are okay. I’ve been so wor
ried about you. And guilty. I’ve been so absorbed with caring for Jacob and crying about Greg that I gave up trying to get through to you. I convinced myself that you weren’t my problem right now – I couldn’t make you accept my help. But I look at you now and I feel so guilty that I didn’t try harder.’

  For all these months, Shelley had been telling herself that she couldn’t face this. That it would be too much, too painful. But this was Dee. Her Dee. Her funny, kind, passionate friend. Inseparable from the age of eleven, they’d practically lived at one another’s homes. Dee had always been the outgoing one, the one with the plans, the one with the confidence. Shelley wouldn’t have done half the things she had if it weren’t for Dee. But Dee had needed Shelley just as much. Shelley had talked her down from the crazier ideas, had listened to her rant when Dee felt misunderstood. If Dee had been the wind that blew Shelley onwards, then Shelley had been the calm to Dee’s storm. Greg’s death had been the worst thing that had ever happened to either of them. They should have grieved together, not apart. And that was Shelley’s fault for pushing her away.

  So much guilt. So much useless emotion. So much wasted time. ‘Oh, Dee, you don’t need to feel guilty. I am the one who was wrong. You tried to talk to me but I didn’t want to listen. I should be the one saying sorry, not you.’

  Dee shook her head. ‘No. You’ve lost your husband. Your whole world has been…’

  Shelley interrupted her. She owed Dee this apology, whatever she said. ‘I don’t just mean this last year. Before that. You were right about me but I didn’t want to hear it at the time.’

  Dee looked confused. ‘What do you mean? Right about what?’

  Shelley sighed. ‘That night at your parents’ house. When you told me you were pregnant. What you said.’

  Dee closed her eyes for a moment and opened them again. ‘I thought we’d made our peace with that. It was the hormones; I was out of order.’

  Now Shelley shook her head. ‘No. You were right. About me doing everything that Greg wanted, living my life the way he lived his. It wasn’t his fault though. It was me. I just kind of… morphed into this other person.’ Shelley broke eye contact and started moving her mug around on the table. ‘I know we agreed to forget it, but if I’m honest, I was still carrying it all when Greg died. I was so angry with you. It felt like you’d attacked me and I couldn’t work out where it had come from. I’d always known that you weren’t happy about me and Greg getting together. I knew that I was never good enough for your brother. But that night in your old bedroom seemed like an all-out assault.’

  Dee’s eyes widened. ‘Good enough? Good enough? Of course you were good enough. What do you mean?’

  Shelley sighed. ‘Your family. We both know that our families were worlds apart. I suppose it didn’t matter when we were kids, but when I started dating your brother, I could see how uncomfortable you were.’

  Dee laughed in disbelief. ‘It wasn’t that, Shel.’

  ‘And I know your parents weren’t happy. I know they would rather he married someone of their “type”. Not the girl from around the corner who didn’t even finish university.’

  ‘Well, that was Greg’s fault. He wanted you back home with him.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t. It was me. I wasn’t confident enough to be there on my own, and when I came home, you weren’t there and I just started seeing a lot more of him.’

  ‘A lot more of him? You moved in together.’

  ‘Not straight away.’

  ‘And when I came home that first Christmas, I barely saw you. Either of you.’

  ‘That first Christmas all you wanted to talk about was how wonderful university life was and how I was missing out. You kept talking about all your new friends and what you were planning to do when you went back.’

  ‘That’s because I wanted to persuade you to try again. I didn’t want you to miss out because you were shacking up with my brother.’

  ‘And that’s how you seemed to feel about it. I was “shacking up” with him. You hated it. You were jealous because I was spending time with him.’

  Dee gave a hollow laugh. ‘What do you mean? It was never him I was afraid of losing. It was you.’

  Shelley had no idea what she was talking about. ‘What do you mean, losing me? Surely if I married your brother, you were guaranteed to see me for the rest of my life?’

  Dee sighed. ‘See you, yes. But not spend time with you. Not on my own. You became part of the family. Every time we were together, Greg was there too.’ She sighed again. ‘I loved my brother, of course I did. But you were my best friend, and when you married Greg, I lost you.’

  How could Shelley have read the situation so badly? How could she not have realised this? ‘Oh, Dee. I got so much wrong. It wasn’t just that you lost me. I lost myself along the way too. Greg was so confident, so clever, so… I don’t know, worldly? He just seemed to know how everything should be done, and it was easy to follow his lead.’

  Dee nodded; her eyes sad. ‘I get that. He was a pretty great guy. I did love him too, you know. For all that he drove me crazy.’

  Why had she left it so long before speaking to Dee? She was the one other person who would miss Greg as much as she did. Maybe that was why. Putting a mirror up to her own grief meant she was forced to face it. She reached across the table for Dee’s hand and squeezed it. They sat there for a few moments until Shelley could trust her voice again. ‘I’m so sorry I shut you out after the miscarriage. That we didn’t see you the week before… before Greg died.’

  Dee tilted her head to the side. ‘But I did see him. He came to visit the day before… before his heart attack.’

  That was strange; why hadn’t he mentioned that to Shelley? Although, when she thought back, he had got in late the night before and she had been in bed. She had pretended to be asleep when he’d crept upstairs so that she wouldn’t have to speak to him. Another stick she’d used to beat herself with in those early days after he’d died. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  Dee held her hands out. ‘When? At the hospital when you refused to speak to me? At the funeral when you shook my hand then shook your head when I tried to hug you? On one of the many phone calls you’ve refused to take? It’s not the kind of thing you can text or email.’ Dee softened her voice and tentatively put a hand on Shelley’s shoulder. ‘I wasn’t even sure whether I should tell you. I wasn’t sure if it would make it worse.’

  Shelley’s face must have shown all the pain she was in. ‘Worse? How could it ever be worse? My husband had just died, Dee. It doesn’t actually get worse.’

  Dee bit her lip then took a deep breath. ‘He wanted to talk to me about you. That you were still adamant that you wanted to try for another baby and that you’d been arguing about it.’ She paused and looked up at Shelley, as if she was weighing something up in her mind.

  ‘Go on.’ Shelley wanted to hear it, whatever it was. Like pulling off a plaster, she wanted it over as quickly as possible.

  Dee nodded and continued. ‘He really couldn’t understand why you were talking about trying again. I honestly think he regarded it as some kind of hormonal reaction to the miscarriage, that you didn’t really want a child. He even said he’d booked a consultation for a vasectomy.’

  Shelley’s stomach was flipping over and over, reliving those feelings of disappointment. Of loss. She could barely get her words out. ‘And?’

  ‘And I know that you didn’t want me to say anything to him, but my brother was sitting there on my couch with his head in his hands, not knowing what to do. So, I tried to explain to him what it was like when you wanted a child that much. That need. I said I could see it in you and I also said that he needed to really consider what was stopping him from wanting a baby. And whether that was as strong a conviction as the one you had. He told me he was going to take some time and think about it. He was going to talk to you.’

  Shelley felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach. Greg had been considering whether to have a
baby? And she had lain there that night and pretended to be asleep. And the next day, there was no conversation to be had anymore.

  She’d been wrong before. The pain could definitely get worse.

  41

  Lara

  Tiny pairs of trousers, mini T-shirts, a doll-sized floral dress: it was the first time that Lara had allowed herself inside the children’s section of a shop since the first pregnancy. It was only one physical step over the threshold from womenswear, but it felt like a big leap. There were other mothers flicking through the hangers. Some with babies or toddlers in tow, some pregnant like her. She couldn’t shake off the feeling of being an interloper. When would she feel as if she belonged here at last?

  She picked up a tiny pair of socks, held them to her bump and whispered, ‘What do you think of these, little one?’

  A larger bump appeared beside hers; its owner smiled. ‘Fun, isn’t it? Do you know what you’re having?’

  Lara dropped the socks as if she’d been caught stealing them. ‘No. We want a surprise.’

  The woman picked up the socks from where they’d caught on the handle of her buggy and passed them back to her. ‘Good for you. I’m having another boy so we’ll mainly be recycling my two-year-old’s clothes, but I wanted to get him a few new things. Seems only fair.’

  Fairness wasn’t something that Lara equated with pregnancy. This friendly woman looked ready to pop. ‘How long until your due date?’

  She did the reflexive bump-rub. ‘Next week. Although I’m not sure I’ll make it that far. I’ve had a terrible backache for the last two days and I’m wondering if he’s on his way.’

  Lara’s back had been aching too, but she’d tried not to read anything into that. It was probably because she was starting to stand differently as her bump grew. The same with the twinges she’d had. Everything was okay. The hospital had confirmed it.