Squinting at the tiny writing, Jo looked first at the years along the top – all twenty-five of them, sliced into quarters – but her eyes were quickly drawn back to the list on the left-hand side. There were over thirty rows, one for each of the key events and milestones David had conjured up. She could see their Valentine’s trip to Paris and quickly found a corresponding bar under the first quarter of 2013. Now concentrating on their ill-fated trip to America, Jo’s eyes widened in disbelief as her finger trailed across the pages. David wasn’t intending on resurrecting his plans for this trip until 2034.
‘What the hell were you planning?’ Jo asked.
Her eyes darted from one section of the chart to the next as she began constructing the path she had thought would always remain enshrouded in shadow and conjecture, the one they would never be able to travel together. But thanks to David’s penchant for plans, they could still share it. She was about to laugh, but it caught in her throat when something drew her attention; it was only two letters, an abbreviation, but it wrenched from her an almighty sob.
A moment later, the study door creaked open. ‘Jo, are you all right?’
Jo swallowed back the tears as she twisted around in her chair to find Irene standing on the threshold. Her mother-in-law had stayed over for the night, sleeping on the inflatable bed in the nursery that she had joked she would never be able to get up from.
‘Sorry, did I wake you?’ Jo asked.
‘I heard you get up but I didn’t want to disturb you. But then I couldn’t bear to leave you crying in here on your own.’ Irene was struggling to hold back her own tears; they were never too far from the surface these days but Jo was relying on her mother-in-law to hold it together. Irene had surprised them both by how strong she could be. It was an inner strength that had previously remained hidden and unnecessary while surrounded by the men in her life. But it was there now and Jo was grateful to have someone who would show her how to be strong. She had been more than happy when Irene suggested staying; neither wanted to be on her own the night before the funeral.
‘I’m all right,’ Jo said, ‘but look what I’ve found.’ Jo placed her finger so gently on one of the pages it was almost a caress.
‘What is it?’ Irene asked, a little unsettled by the smile on her daughter-in-law’s face.
‘FB.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Remember I told you that David had called my bump FB, and how I thought I had worked out what it meant.’ Irene nodded, a look of pain crossing her face. ‘Well, I was wrong.’
Jo waited for her mother-in-law to read what she was pointing at, but Irene shook her head. ‘Sorry, Jo, I couldn’t read that even if I did have my glasses.’
‘FB is a reference David uses here. He couldn’t tell me because he didn’t want to share this plan with me right away. He was probably waiting until it was finished, or maybe he was making me suffer a little longer for pulling the rug from under him. Perhaps he realized I’d been proven right, that he was ready to be a dad, but he just wasn’t ready to admit it to me. There are some things I’ll never know, but at least I know what FB stands for now. It means First Born, Irene.’ Jo gave a soft chuckle before adding, ‘And there’s much more. So much more.’
Jo stood up and moved the chair out of the way so they could both stand in front of the desk and take in the full glory of David’s plans.
‘This is mine and David’s life all mapped out, Irene. Like I said, he hadn’t quite worked it all out yet and there are a few question marks here and there, but it’s more than I could ever have hoped for …’ Jo had to stop and swallow back the emotion that formed as a hard lump at the back of her throat. When she could talk again, she spoke softly as if she were standing in the middle of a cathedral during evensong. ‘These first entries on the list are the holidays he had in mind from his original plans, but the rest is our life together – and not just me and David, but our children too, our first born and our second. It’s all here, Irene, everything he wanted out of life, for him, for me and for Archie.’
Irene placed a hand reverently on the nearest page. ‘What does it say?’
Jo’s voice broke time and again as she explained each and every milestone, from the birth of the child he knew Jo was already carrying to the new addition he expected to follow two years later. He had assumed, correctly as it turned out, that their first born would be a boy, to be followed by the arrival of a girl to complete the set. Both he and Jo’s careers would go from strength to strength, spurred on by the desire to support their growing family. There were milestones for the children too, and not only the mundane things like starting school but hobbies and other interests; football for their son and gymnastics for their daughter. Jo was laughing as she pointed out the double standards. Their son would be an adventure seeker, going off to festivals in his late teens before studying abroad. Their daughter meanwhile wasn’t going to be let out of his sight.
‘He thought of everything,’ Jo said. ‘And when he was finally ready to let the children make their own lives, only then did he give in to his wanderlust again.’
‘He would never have let them go,’ Irene whispered. ‘No parent does. You keep them with you always. Always.’
‘He mentions you.’
Even in the dim light, Jo could see the goose bumps pricking Irene’s bare arms. ‘Really?’
‘You had your work cut out,’ Jo warned. ‘My mum was tasked with teaching the kids how to upcycle clothes and furniture while you would teach them how to play football.’
‘No!’
They were both laughing now. ‘He always said you taught him far more about the game than his dad.’
‘Alan was a bit of a couch potato,’ Irene admitted.
‘Yes, he was, wasn’t he?’ Jo said tearing her eyes from the chart to look at Irene. ‘He certainly didn’t come across as the kind of man who ever regretted settling down. If his life with you was all an act, Irene, it was a pretty good one.’
Irene shook her head. ‘In those last few months, I know he wasn’t the man I knew and loved; in fact, I find it easier thinking of him as two separate people. My Alan, the man I married, had all kinds of dreams but that’s all they were. I don’t think he wanted them to come true, he was happy enough sitting on the couch contemplating his navel while I was out in the garden explaining the offside rule to the boys.’
The two women turned back to David’s dreams. ‘So will you teach Archie?’ Jo challenged.
‘I think I’d displace a hip if I tried to kick a ball around these days,’ Irene said staring at the pages in awe, ‘but I’ll give it a try.’
‘I’m counting on it.’
Irene’s brave face began to fray at the edges and she put her hand to her mouth to stop the sob escaping. Uncertain that she could hold back the tidal wave of emotion, her hand remained in place as she said, ‘Bless you, Jo. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Archie. You’re giving me a reason to keep going and I promise I won’t let you down. I’ll do anything to keep you both in my life.’
It wasn’t a throwaway comment. There was a conflict of interests between the two of them that wasn’t going to go away. Steve was Irene’s only surviving son and, despite his faults, he was another reason to keep her going, but she was too afraid to admit it, to Jo or to herself.
‘I know you’re torn in two and I know I’ve said I’ll never forgive Steve – but I won’t make you choose, Irene,’ Jo said as she imagined a time not that long ago when she had wondered if she could choose between her husband and her child. ‘I won’t do that to you.’
‘I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him either,’ Irene said, dropping her hand from her face.
‘You will, and maybe one day I will too. Only just not yet,’ Jo warned, ‘and probably not for a very long time, but we’ve lost enough family. And I don’t want you going behind my back and then us falling out over it. I don’t want to lose you either.’
Irene didn’t try to deny the possibility; there was
little point. Steve had already been in touch with his mum to ask if he could attend the funeral. She had told him no, but when she explained to Jo what he’d said, it was clear she had been hoping Jo would overrule her. She hadn’t. Emotions were still raw.
Saying nothing else, Irene took another look at the pages that tracked one amazing event to the next. David had had his own way of charting his life but he didn’t have a monopoly on planning for the future. Irene had once seen her own life mapped out ahead of her. It hadn’t included losing a husband for at least another couple of decades and had never, ever included losing a son. The spidery lines on David’s chart that tangled up her future with his were thin and fragile, a web of ambitions that had been blown away one stormy night. She was still grasping at the gossamer threads that had been left behind, so fragile that they would disintegrate from the breath of just one wrong word.
‘This has all gone now,’ Irene said at last, ‘and if I’m honest, Jo I can’t see the future any more, not unless you count getting through to the end of another day.’
‘Especially this day,’ Jo concluded. She tried to straighten up, drawing strength into a body that was still recovering from the simple task of waking up that morning. ‘I want to do the right thing, Irene. I want to do what’s best for David. He’d be angry with Steve too but he’d want him there.’
Irene stepped away from the desk, she didn’t need to see the plans any more, she was only too aware of the extent of her loss. She cupped Jo’s face in her hands. ‘I’ll tell him to keep away from you. I’ll tell him to stay at the back of the church. If he can’t do that then I’ll march him out so fast his feet won’t touch the ground. Thank you, Jo. You’re a good girl.’
‘Am I?’ Jo asked. It was a genuine question. Steve wasn’t the only one seeking forgiveness. ‘I should never have doubted David. If I’d had the kind of faith in him he deserved, if I hadn’t been so quick to think badly of him, then I would never have let the police give up on the search. I know it wouldn’t have changed things but I could have brought him home so much sooner. I’ll never forgive myself for that.’
Irene reached up and kissed Jo on the forehead. ‘He forgives you.’ She dropped her hands and was ready for Jo’s reaction, which was a shake of the head. ‘You know David as well as anyone. Didn’t you just say he would forgive Steve? He’d forgive you anything, Jo.’
Before Jo could object further, there was a faint whimper coming from her bedroom.
‘He’d forgive you, don’t ever doubt that,’ Irene called as Jo left the study which held the sacred remnants of the life she had lost.
Slipping across the landing Jo noticed the door to the nursery had been left ajar. In the grey light of dawn she caught a glimpse of yellow sunshine glancing off the walls. The sunflowers hanging from the mobile were unmoved by the lullaby Jo began to hum in a bid to chase away dark thoughts of self-doubt. It was all too easy for Irene to say that David would forgive her, just as it had been easy for Jo to say that he would forgive Steve. It was what they all wanted to hear and who could prove otherwise?
But there was someone whose judgement Jo feared more than any other’s. Archie had sensed her guilt from the moment he had been born and there were times when she hadn’t been able to meet his accusing gaze. And even though she knew now that she hadn’t driven his father away after all, she didn’t feel completely vindicated. Her performance so far, as Archie’s mother, had been distinctly lacking and she wasn’t sure how she was ever going to make it up to him.
As she continued the short journey to her bedroom, she could feel the shadows deepening. She had lost her sunshine, the man who had been her guiding light, and it was impossible to imagine a world without him in it. By the time she reached the door to her room she was enshrouded in a darkness that was soul deep. It was going to be a long, painful day and it started here.
She could hear Archie writhing in his bassinet, but so far his whimpering was little more than mild curiosity at the sound of his own voice. Taking a deep breath, Jo detected the faintest hint of David’s aftershave and, from nowhere, his plans came to life. She had a clear image of Archie laughing as he kicked a football to his grandmother, his face full of mischief and his father’s dimple all the more pronounced as he giggled. She was looking forward to seeing him grow, and that simple thought startled her. Was she actually looking forward to the future?
As she stepped closer, Archie’s kicking grew more frantic. He could hear her humming and if she didn’t know better, he was getting excited. The shadows were lifting and through the gloom, she could just make out tiny hands reaching up towards the person he was now expecting to appear above him at any moment. Jo made the moment stretch out as she prepared to face the little man who she had thought of as her harshest critic, but in the growing light was revealed as simply a sweet little baby, the one she had always dreamed of.
She took the last step and looked down at her son.
Their eyes locked and both their bodies stilled.
And then Archie smiled his very first smile.
The darkness retreated and the flash of light that sparked in her soul was dazzling. Jo wasn’t sure if she was going to laugh or cry. Instead she said, ‘Hello, my sunshine.’
Acknowledgements
I am astounded to find myself writing the acknowledgements for what is now my fourth novel. It has certainly been a difficult journey from grieving mother to published author, and one that I would never have managed without my family who are my guiding force and my greatest supporters. I would especially like to thank my daughter, Jessica, who is immensely patient and understanding during those long hours when I’m lost in my imaginary worlds. I know you’re there, Jess, and I love you.
I would also thank my mum, Mary Hayes and my sister Lynn Jones for helping me care for Jessica and Nathan in those desperate months when I couldn’t split myself in two between home and hospital. And special mention to my brother Chris Valentine for continuing Nathan’s memory in his own way through his artwork – I wish you all the success in the world. I would also like to thank my brother Jonathan Hayes and brother-in-law Mick Jones for their immense love and support.
I am often told, although I really don’t need telling, how lucky I am to have Luigi Bonomi as my agent and I thank him for his belief in me from the start and his continued support and encouragement. And of course a huge thank you to the amazing team at HarperCollins and especially Kim Young and Martha Ashby who have been incredibly supportive in helping me develop not only my novels but my career as an author too. I would also like to thank Louise Rapson at Peer Music for her help in acquiring permissions to use lyrics from ‘You Are My Sunshine,’ in this novel.
And finally, a big thank you to all my friends who have been with me through thick and thin, with special mention to Kate Knowles, who taught me the kind of relaxation techniques that are referenced in this book; to Pauline Walker, who is my special advisor on character names; and to Christine O’Brien, who was the inspiration behind some of the more interesting craft ideas I’ve used in my story.
An interview with Amanda Brooke
Where did you get your inspiration for this book from?
The idea for the story came initially from a news report about a married man who had disappeared without trace a year earlier. I began to think about how awful it must have been for his wife to have someone she obviously loved and who she presumed she knew so well, to simply walk out of her life without explanation. Jo goes through those initial feelings that I imagined any wife would experience, starting with perhaps no more than mild anxiety and uncertainty. She doesn’t realise that she has just stepped into a terrifying nightmare that will see her pushed to her limits of mental endurance.
Did you know from the start what fate had befallen David or was this something you discovered as you wrote the novel?
Yes, I knew exactly what had been going on in David’s life, how he felt on the day he went missing and why he didn’t come home. What I hadn’t worked
out so clearly was how his family would react to his disappearance and that was a journey of discovery for me as much as for my characters. With each draft of the novel, I had to put myself in their shoes until I knew them well enough to know instinctively how each of them would behave and feel.
You’ve charted Jo’s progress through the stages of grief in exquisite and agonising detail – did you find it hard to leave the emotion of this story behind when you weren’t writing?
Jo’s grief was a difficult one to describe because she doesn’t know what it is she’s grieving for. She has no way of knowing if David is dead or alive, so she can’t know if she has lost a faithful and doting husband or if she has been living with a callous and conniving adulterer. The disintegration of her life and more particularly her mental health is a gradual process in spite of David’s sudden departure, and because it was such a tortuous process, it did affect me. I can honestly say I spent plenty of sleepless nights wondering how Jo would be feeling as I tried to decide where I needed to take her next.
You also torture the reader with Jo’s acceptance (or not) of her baby – how did you find it to write this angle?
Jo is pregnant when David goes missing and it was second nature for me to write about a character who had wanted a baby for a very long time. However, because so much has happened to Jo by the time the baby is born, I knew her feelings towards her son had to be affected. With her confidence shattered, she fears that the baby is rejecting her in the same way that his father had. It was certainly difficult to navigate my way through Jo’s emotions, starting with her looking forward to the birth right through to her not wanting to bring the baby home from hospital, and while her reaction wasn’t something I could relate to personally, I could understand why she felt the way she did. Jo’s belief in herself and everything she held dear has been challenged, if not destroyed. She convinces herself that she won’t be a good enough mother and while that’s probably something many first-time mums can relate to, myself included, with Jo those feelings of self-doubt are off the scale.
The Missing Husband Page 34
