The Fiancé He Can't Forget

by Caroline Anderson

Daisy pulled a face. ‘Can we have something less smelly, and something to eat? I really don’t think I can wait till breakfast.’

  ‘Sure. I’ll order decaf tea. What about bacon rolls?’

  ‘Oh, yes-s-s-s!’ she said fervently. ‘Amazing! Matt, you’re a genius.’

  He smiled, glancing across at Amy and sensing, rather than seeing, the sadness that lingered in her. She was smiling at Daisy, but underneath it all was grief, no longer raw and untamed, maybe, but there for all that.

  Would it ever get easier? Ever truly go away?

  He hoped so, but he was very much afraid that he was wrong.

  ‘Well, hello, Mummy Grieves! Are you up for visitors?’

  ‘Oh, yes! Hello, Amy, how are you? How was the wedding? Did Daisy look beautiful?’

  ‘Utterly gorgeous, but I bet she wasn’t as gorgeous as your little girls. Aren’t you going to introduce me?’

  ‘Of course. I hope you don’t mind, but we’ve called them Daisy and Amy, because you two have been so kind and we really love the names.’

  ‘Oh, that’s so sweet of you, thank you,’ Amy said, her eyes filling. In a rare complication, the twins had shared the same amniotic sac, and the danger of their cords tangling had meant Mel had been monitored as an inpatient for several weeks, and she and Daisy had got to know Mel very well. And this… She blinked hard and sniffed, and Mel hugged her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she corrected. ‘So, this is Amy. Want a cuddle?’

  ‘I’d better not—infection risk,’ she lied. That was why she’d gone on her way in, so her clothes were clean, but the last thing she wanted was to hold them. Delivering babies was one thing. Going out of her way to cuddle them—well, she just didn’t.

  She admired them both, though, Amy first, then Daisy, their perfect little features so very alike and yet slightly different. ‘Can you tell them apart yet?’ she asked Mel, and she smiled and nodded.

  ‘Oh, yes. I could see the differences straight away. Adrian can’t always, but he’ll learn, I expect. And Mr Walker and his brother—they’re very alike, too, aren’t they, but I can tell the difference. There’s just something.’

  Amy swallowed. Oh, yes. Ben didn’t have the ability to turn her into a total basket case just by walking into the room, and just to prove it, Matt strolled in then and she felt her stomach drop to the floor and her heart lurch.

  ‘Talk of the Devil,’ she said brightly, and saying goodbye to Mel, she slipped past him, trying not to breath in the faint, lingering scent of soap and cologne, but it drifted after her on the air.

  Just one more day. He’ll be gone tomorrow.

  It couldn’t come soon enough…

  He found her, the next day, working in the ward office filling out patient records on the computer.

  ‘I’m off,’ he said, and she looked up and wondered why, when she’d been so keen to see him go, she should feel a pang of sadness that she was losing him.

  Ridiculous. She wasn’t losing him, he wasn’t hers! And anyway, since the wedding they’d hardly seen each other. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t both been painfully, desperately aware. Yet he hadn’t once, in all that time, suggested they repeat the folly of Saturday night—

  ‘Got time for a coffee?’

  She glanced up at the clock. Actually, she had plenty of time. There was nothing going on, for once, and although no doubt now she’d thought that all hell would break loose, for the minute, anyway, it was quiet.

  Did she want to make time for a coffee? Totally different question.

  ‘I can spare five minutes,’ she said, logging off the computer and sliding back her chair.

  He ushered her through the door first, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back, and she felt the warmth, the security of it all the way through to her bones. Except it was a false sense of security.

  ‘We ought to talk,’ he said quietly, once they were seated in the café.

  She stirred her coffee, chasing the froth round the top, frowning at it as if it held the answers. ‘Is there anything to say?’

  He laughed, a short, harsh sound that cut the air. ‘Amy, we spent the night together,’ he said—unnecessarily, since she’d hardly forgotten.

  ‘For old times’ sake,’ she pointed out. ‘That was all.’

  ‘Was it? Was it really?’

  ‘Yes. It really was.’

  He stared at her, searching her eyes for the longest moment, and then the expression in them was carefully banked and he looked away. ‘OK. If that’s what you want.’

  It wasn’t. She wanted him, but she couldn’t trust him, because when her world had disintegrated and she’d needed him more than she’d ever needed anybody in her life, he’d turned his back on her.

  She wasn’t going through that again, not for him, not for anybody.

  ‘It is what I want,’ she lied. ‘It didn’t work, Matt, and there’s no use harking back to it. We need to let it go.’

  His eyes speared her. ‘Have you?’

  Let it go? Let her baby go?

  She sucked in a breath and looked away.

  ‘I didn’t think so,’ he said softly. ‘Well, if it helps you any, neither have I. And I haven’t forgotten you, Amy.’

  She closed her eyes, wishing he would go, wishing he could stay. She heard the scrape of a chair, felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘You know where I am if you change your mind.’

  ‘I won’t,’ she vowed. She couldn’t. She didn’t dare. She simply wasn’t strong enough to survive a second time.

  He bent, tipped her head back with his fingers and dropped the gentlest, sweetest, saddest kiss on her lips.

  ‘Goodbye, Amy. Take care of yourself.’

  And then he was gone, walking swiftly away, leaving her there alone in the middle of the crowded café. She wanted to get up, to run after him, to yell at him to stop, she was sorry, she didn’t mean it, please stay. But she didn’t.

  Somehow, just barely, she managed to stop herself, and no doubt one day she’d be grateful for that.

  But right now, she felt as if she’d just thrown away her last chance at happiness, and all she wanted to do was cry.

  CHAPTER THREE

  IT TOOK her weeks to work out what was going on.

  Weeks in which Matt was in her head morning, noon and night. She kept telling herself she’d done the right thing, that not seeing him again was sensible, but it wasn’t easy to convince herself. Not easy at all, and Daisy and Ben being so blissfully happy didn’t help.

  She ached for him so much it was physical, but she’d done the right thing, sending him away. She had. She couldn’t rely on him, couldn’t trust him again with her heart. And she was genuinely relieved when her period came right on cue, because although she might want him, the thought of going through another pregnancy terrified her, and for the first time since the wedding she felt herself letting go of an inner tension she hadn’t even been aware of.

  She could move on now. They’d said their goodbyes, and it was done.

  Finished.

  The autumn came and went, and December arrived with a vengeance. It rained, and when it wasn’t raining, it was sleeting, and then it dried up and didn’t thaw for days. And her boiler broke down in her flat.

  Marvellous, she thought. Just what she needed. She contacted her landlord, but it would be three weeks before it could be replaced—more, maybe, because plumbers were rushed off their feet after the freeze—and so she gave in to Ben and Daisy’s gentle nagging, and moved into Daisy’s house just ten days before Christmas.

  ‘It’s only temporary, till my boiler’s fixed,’ she told them firmly, but they just smiled and nodded and refused to take any rent on the grounds that it was better for the house to be occupied.

  Then Daisy had her twenty-week scan, and of course she asked to see the photo. What else could she do? And she thought she’d be fine, she saw them all the time in her work, but it really got to her. Because of the link to Matt? She had no idea, b
ut it haunted her that day and the next, popping up in every quiet moment and bringing with it a rush of grief that threatened to undermine her. She and Matt had been so happy, so deliriously overjoyed back then. And then, so shortly before her scan was due—

  A laugh jerked her out of her thoughts, a laugh so like Matt’s that it could so easily have been him, and she felt her heart squeeze. Stupid. She knew it was Ben. She heard him laugh all the time. And every time, she felt pain like a solid ball wedged in her chest.

  She missed him. So, so much.

  ‘Oh, Amy, great, I was hoping I’d find you here. New admission—thirty-four weeks, slight show last night, mild contractions which could just be Braxton Hicks’. Have you got time to admit her for me, please? She’s just moved to the area last week, so we haven’t seen her before but she’s got her hand-held notes.’

  She swiped the tears from her cheeks surreptitiously while she pretended to stifle a yawn. ‘Sure. I could do with a break from this tedious admin. I’ll just log off and I’ll be with you. What’s her name?’

  ‘Helen Kendall. She’s in the assessment room.’

  Amy found her sitting on the edge of the chair looking worried and guilty, and she introduced herself.

  ‘I’m so sorry to just come in,’ Helen said, ‘but I was worried because I’ve been really overdoing it with the move and I’m just so tired,’ she blurted out, and then she started to cry.

  ‘Oh, Helen,’ Amy said, sitting down next to her and rubbing her back soothingly. ‘You’re exhausted—come on, let’s get you into a gown and into bed, and let us take care of you.’

  ‘It’s all my fault, I shouldn’t have let him talk me into it, we should have waited and now the baby’s going to be too early,’ she sobbed. Oh, she could understand the guilt all too well, but thirty-four weeks wasn’t too early. Not like eighteen weeks…

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ she said with a calm she didn’t feel, ‘and thirty-four weeks is quite manageable if it comes to that. It may well not. Come on, chin up, and let’s find out what’s going on.’

  She handed Helen a gown, then left her alone for a few minutes to change and do a urine sample while she took the time to get her emotions back in order. What was the matter with her? She didn’t think about her baby at all, normally. It was seeing that picture of Daisy’s baby, and thinking about Matt again—always Matt.

  She pulled herself together and went back to Helen.

  This was her first pregnancy, it had been utterly straightforward and uncomplicated to this point, and there was no reason to suspect that anything would go wrong even if she did give birth early. The baby was moving normally, its heartbeat was loud and strong, and Helen relaxed visibly when she heard it.

  ‘Oh, that’s so reassuring,’ she said, her eyes filling, and she was still caressing her bump with a gentle, contented smile on her face when Ben arrived.

  ‘OK, Helen, let’s have a look at this baby and see how we’re doing,’ he said, and Amy watched the monitor.

  The baby was a good size for her dates, there was no thinning of Helen’s uterus as yet, and her contractions might well stop at this point, if she was lucky. Not everyone was.

  She sucked in a breath and stepped back, and Ben glanced up at her and frowned.

  ‘You OK?’

  ‘Just giving you a bit more room,’ she lied.

  He grunted. It was a sound she understood. Matt used to do the same thing when he knew she was lying. Maybe they were more alike than she’d realised.

  ‘Right, Helen, I’m happy with that. We’ll monitor you, but I’m pretty sure they’re just Braxton Hicks’ and this will all settle down. We’ll give you drugs to halt it if we can and steroids to mature the baby’s lungs just to be on the safe side, and then if it’s all stable and there’s no change overnight, you can go home tomorrow.’

  She swallowed. ‘That’s so reassuring. Thanks. I feel an idiot now, but I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ve done the right thing coming in,’ Amy assured her. ‘Why don’t you try and have a sleep? I might have to disturb you from time to time, but I think a rest will do you good.’

  She followed Ben out into the corridor. ‘Any special instructions?’

  ‘Yes. Come for dinner. Daisy’s worried about you—she thinks the scan upset you.’

  She forced a smile. ‘Don’t be silly, of course it didn’t.’

  That grunt again. ‘Humour her, Amy, for my sake if nothing else. You know what she’s like when she’s got a bee in her bonnet about something. So—seven o’clock all right?’

  She wasn’t going to get out of it without a fuss, Amy realised, so she gave in. ‘Seven will be fine. I’ll see you there—and I’ll keep you up to speed with Helen in the meantime.’

  She picked up some flowers for Daisy from the supermarket on her way home. And it really did feel like home, she thought as she showered and dressed.

  Odd, how easily she’d settled into the little house, but she’d been lucky it had been available. Or maybe they’d deliberately kept it that way? She had a feeling they weren’t exactly busting a gut to get a tenant and she wouldn’t have put it past them to have caused the jinx in her boiler, but not even Daisy could make something rust through with the sheer force of her will.

  It was a pity it was only temporary, but with their baby coming—well, thrilled though she was for them, it would be hard enough seeing Ben at work strutting around and showing off photos, without having it rammed down her throat at home.

  At seven o’clock on the dot, she went out of the front door, stepped over the little low iron fence between the front gardens and rang their doorbell, and Daisy opened it instantly.

  ‘Oh, flowers, thank you! Oh, you shouldn’t,’ Daisy said, hugging her as she stepped inside. ‘I’m so glad you’ve come. I really thought I’d upset you…’

  Her eyes were filling, and Amy sighed and hugged her back. ‘Don’t be silly. It was lovely seeing the picture and I’m really glad everything’s all right.’ She eased away and sniffed the air. ‘Gosh, something smells wonderful. I’ve been starving recently. I think it’s the cold, but I’m going to have to stop it. People keep bringing chocolates in.’

  ‘Oh, tell me about it!’ Daisy laughed. ‘Come on through. Ben’s cooking up a storm in the kitchen. He says it’s a warming winter casserole, but all I know is it’s taking a long time!’

  It was delicious, and she would have eaten more, but her jeans were too tight and they were putting pressure on her bladder. That would teach her to stuff the patients’ chocolates, she thought.

  They cleared the table, and she excused herself and went up to the bathroom, but then had to hunt for toilet paper in the little cupboard under the sink.

  A box fell out onto the floor, a slim rectangular box. She picked it up to put it back, and then stopped.

  A pregnancy test, one of a twin pack…

  Everything seemed to slow down for a moment, and then her heart lurched and started to race.

  No. Don’t be silly. You can’t be.

  Or could she? She’d thought her jeans were tight because she’d been such a pig recently, but she was feeling bloated—and her period was overdue. Only by a day, but the others…

  ‘Amy? I’ve just remembered the loo paper’s run out. I’ve got some here, I meant to bring it up.’

  She opened the door, the pregnancy test in her hand, and Daisy stared down at it, her jaw dropping.

  ‘Amy?’ she murmured.

  ‘I—um—I was looking for loo paper, and it fell out, and—Daisy, what if I’m…?’

  She looked into Daisy’s worried eyes, unable to say the word, but it hung there in the air between them.

  ‘What makes you think you could be? I thought you were on the Pill? I mean, surely you’ve had periods?’

  ‘Yes.’ Yes, of course she had. Thank God. She leant against the wall, weak with relief. She’d just overeaten.

  ‘And you weren’t ill, were you, before the weddin
g?’

  Ill? Alarm bells began to ring again. Not ill, exactly, but thinking back she’d been sick in the morning with the thought of seeing Matt, and her stomach had played up all the previous week with nerves. And it was only a low-dose pill, so timing was crucial if you were using it for contraception—which she wasn’t, so maybe she’d just taken it for granted. What if…?

  ‘I can’t be, Daisy, it was only one night, and I’ve had three periods…’ She trailed off.

  Scant ones. Lighter than normal. Shorter—and this one was late.

  Oh, how could she have been so dense? The signs were all there.

  ‘Just use the pregnancy test,’ Daisy offered tentatively, putting it back in her hand. ‘It’s going begging, and it would answer the question.’

  Did she want it answered? The wedding was months ago, so she’d be almost 16 weeks—four weeks behind Daisy. Only two weeks to…

  She felt bile rising in her throat again, and swallowed hard. ‘Um…’

  ‘Go on. I’ll wait outside.’

  She left the door open a crack, and the moment the loo flushed, she was back in there, holding Amy’s hand while they stared at the little window. One line—then the other. Clear as a bell.

  Amy sat down on the floor as if her strings had been cut, just as Ben appeared in the doorway behind Daisy. ‘Are you girls OK?’ he asked, looking from one to the other, and then he glanced down and saw the pregnancy test in Amy’s lifeless hand, and she saw the penny drop.

  ‘Oh, Amy,’ he said softly, and as she stared at him blankly, the reality of her situation sank in and she began to shake.

  ‘Ben, I can’t—I can’t do this again,’ she said, her voice shuddering as fear engulfed her. ‘Tell me I don’t have to do this again! I can’t—I’m so scared. No, please, no, not again, I can’t…’

  ‘Amy, shhh, it’s OK,’ Daisy said, gathering her up in her arms and rocking her against her chest. ‘Hush now, sweetheart, it’s all right, we’ll take care of you. Don’t be scared, it’ll be all right.’

  But it wasn’t all right, and it wouldn’t be, not ever again, she thought hysterically. She could hear herself gibbering, feel the panic and terror clawing at her, and underneath it, below it all, the agonising grief for the baby she’d loved and lost, too small to have any hope of surviving, and yet so much loved, so infinitely precious, so perfect—so agonisingly, dreadfully missed.