‘Say hi to your godmother, baby Elizabeth.’
And that’s when I lose it all together, looking up at Mo, whose eyes are also brimming. ‘Mum’s name,’ I just about utter, and Mo nods. ‘It’s perfect,’ I say. ‘She’s perfect.’
The nurse dials Greg’s number for Mo to tell him the news. I’m invited to make her some tea and toast while they tend to Mo’s nethers… something, no matter how close we may be, I really don’t need to witness. It’s several hours until Greg finally arrives. Mo has drifted off to sleep, Elizabeth too, so I leave him to get acquainted with his new family.
Heading out into the dawn, an early-morning, heatless sun makes Nottingham glisten around me. I walk up to the top road, birds beginning to wake, looking for a bus or tram to get me over to Dad’s. I call work, leaving a message to tell them I’m sick for now. Then I text Dad so he gets it as soon as he wakes. I’ll crash at his place. Some Dad chat will help. Decisions about my future need not to be made after a night of acute embarrassment and childbirth. I need time.
Fifty-Three
Ed
Seeking her out through a crowd of parents is tricky when children queue up at the door, completely obscuring my view. Did she make it home last night? Is Mo okay? Is Rachel okay? How does she feel about everything she said?
When the bell goes, a teacher I don’t recognise welcomes the children in. I strain to see past her. If I could just check Rachel’s face, I’d know either way. It’s weird; on the drive home I thought about what she said, what Mo said. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if that happened to me; embarrassed, tormented even. But I also tried to imagine what I’d do if I had feelings for someone and thought that one action might help. Would I do it? And, though I couldn’t say that I would, if I was being honest with myself, perhaps, I couldn’t say that I wouldn’t.
Which makes me realise that it’s easy for me to be angry when, in fact, the whole situation is more complex than that. We are all more complex than that. Whichever way I look at it, maybe Rachel was doing the best she could at that time. What is it people say? You never know what inner battles people fight. She knew she’d made a mistake, she knows it now. She didn’t shy away from it; that’s something, isn’t it?
‘Good morning, in you come.’ The teacher stands by the door, a wide, welcoming smile for all the children. ‘There’s no Miss Fletcher this morning, I’m afraid, but I’m very excited to be having the day with you. I’ve heard all about what you’ve been learning and… Yes…? Just over there,’ she instructs a child who is full of questions.
‘Is… er… is Miss Fletcher okay?’ I ask when Oli and I make it to the front.
‘I don’t know. She called in sick today. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, though.’ She smiles. ‘In you come, children, on the carpet, please… Lovely.’
Oli stands by my feet, waiting for a kiss goodbye. ‘Did she say what was wrong? Or when she’d be back?’
The teacher looks at me as if there’s a line and I’m midway through crossing it.
Oli tugs at my coat. ‘Sorry, ignore me. Hope she’s okay. Right. Sorry, Oli. Bye, have a good day, love you.’ He waves as I leave.
I jog when I’m out of sight, mixed emotions surprising me. Is that what Rachel meant when she said she’d sort it? That she was going to leave? If she does, maybe that is better for us all. Maybe it would just be too awkward for her to carry on. But it seems unfair. On Rachel, on Oli. On me? I don’t know. How easy is it for a newly qualified teacher to get a new job? I don’t want to be responsible for her being out of work. It doesn’t have to come to this.
And why does her potentially leaving matter anyway?
I climb into my car, pulling out my phone. Maybe I should message Greg. It’s been a while, but he wouldn’t mind passing a message on, would he? Or maybe Rachel and I should talk some more… What is there to be said, though? She seemed pretty done to me.
Greg’s profile comes up first when I open Facebook: a photo of Mo and the new arrival.
Baby Elizabeth with my amazing wife. I hope she forgives me, one day.
What time did he make it, I wonder? Either way, the look on Mo’s face suggests she has forgiven him, or that him being late, or perhaps not even there, for the arrival of their baby is small fry now that she’s arrived.
Staring at the photo attracts a cloud, a sadness. Those feelings of being a new parent, the love you feel for the woman who made you a father; for all she achieved, all she went through. How incredible and strong and beautiful a woman is when she becomes a mother: how fierce and fearless. At least, that was Ellie. I could barely hold myself together when she had Oli. I was a mess, crumbling to see her in pain, fainting at the sights, then in absolute bits when he arrived, squawking, onto her chest. This fidgety, scrawny, bird-like baby who, in that very second, I would have moved mountains for. Who I’d still move mountains for. Who teaches me about love and patience and forgiveness every day.
Love. Patience. Forgiveness.
I tap out a message to Greg:
Just seen the news, congratulations, mate. I’m thrilled for you both. Take care of yourselves and each other. I know you’ll be busy, but if you could, can you pass on my number to Rachel? I could do with talking to her. Thanks. Let’s catch up soon, wet that baby’s head.
I throw my phone onto the passenger seat, a sense of worry, or disappointment maybe, weighing down on the gloom, the black that threatens to consume me. A message comes back pretty quickly:
Thanks, mate. Fuck, this is mental. I can’t believe how I feel about them both. They’re resting before I take them home after the doctor’s been round. Can’t believe I’m a dad! Will pass on the message to Rachel now. She was bloody amazing, stayed with Mo the whole way through. I can’t believe I wasn’t here… What a crap start to fatherhood. Guess I’ll be making up for it for a while! See you soon, be good to catch up.
How did Rachel feel, watching her best friend give birth? Does she think about having children? How was she in a crisis? I’d imagine cool, calm. Focused. I pull away, turning the volume up on the radio, then down slightly, in case Rachel calls. I just want her to know she doesn’t have to leave. It feels important.
When I get home, an unfamiliar car is on the drive. My first thought is it’s hers, but it’s obvious pretty quickly that it isn’t. Turning around and pretending I haven’t seen him is an appealing option, but as he climbs out of the car I find myself emotionally armouring up, climbing slowly out of mine, coming face to face with my brother.
‘Ed.’ A cleaner, healthier-looking version of the man I last saw comatose in his bedroom stands before me. ‘I…’ His voice falters, he coughs, clears his throat and tries again. ‘I called, last night, there was no answer.’
‘I was out.’
‘Well, I wanted to let you know I’d be here today.’
‘Let me know?’ I say. ‘Not ask?’
‘No,’ he answers. ‘This is important.’
We’re face to face. There’s no trace of alcohol on his breath. No vacant glassiness in his eyes. He’s nervous, I can feel that. I could always tell his mood, from us being kids. But unlike times gone by, he doesn’t fidget or move to get away.
I glare at him a second before leaving the front door open for him to follow me into the house. In the kitchen, I flip the kettle on, sort out paperwork from the side, clear breakfast pots away. I’m waiting for him to take control of the situation he wanted to have. Eventually, I turn to face him, arms folded, teeth clenched. ‘Well?’
‘I want to talk to you. I want to explain.’ Two people in two days. Lucky me. ‘There’s no easy way to talk about this.’
A photo of Ellie hangs on the wall behind him and feelings long buried come flooding back without warning, punching me in my chest. The questions, the uncertainty, the fear. Stuff I’ve hidden for the last four years because that was the only way to survive. The reason I stopped looking at the photos, now hung for Oli more than me. ‘You’re ready now, then, are you?’ I c
an’t hide the contempt I feel. The anger that now he wants to, he thinks he can just walk in and have his say. What happened when I needed to talk to him? Why should I bend over and take it on his terms?
‘What if I’m not? What if I don’t want to hear it? What if I never want to hear it?’ I hiss.
‘I wouldn’t blame you. I couldn’t. But I think we both deserve closure.’
‘You don’t deserve anything!’ I step towards him, taking some satisfaction in the fact he tries, yet fails, to hide an urge to move back this time. ‘You had my newborn son in your car; you had my wife. And yet, whatever was going on in your own life, with your own wife, was more important than their safety. You drove like an idiot, and now Ellie’s dead. Because of you.’ Anger spits in my belly, everything forcing its way to now. ‘And I wanted answers, Simon. Okay, so not straight away. I couldn’t talk to you at first, I was too angry, I was grieving, and I don’t blame myself for keeping my distance to begin with. Yet you had no respect for that. You couldn’t wait until I was ready, so instead you just sent a text message. A text message, Simon! To say sorry. Like you’d accidentally broken something, or lost something. “Sorry I killed your wife. Oopsie! LOL.”’ I stare at him, my breath heavy. ‘And that was enough to make me want to talk to you. To try to understand what the hell was going on in your mind. To get to the bottom of why you thought the message was okay. To get to the bottom of the stories Lisa was giving me about why Ellie was in your car in the first place. I needed to talk to you and you were nowhere to be found.’ I take another step towards him but he still doesn’t move. ‘You know something? When I read the report, when I heard what the investigation said, I wanted to hurt you. I wanted to make you feel just one tenth of the pain I was feeling. I wanted to pull it off me, de-cloak, and lie it firmly on you. Smother you in it, offload, share, suffocate you; anything to get rid of it.’
‘I don’t blame you.’
‘You don’t!’ I laugh angrily. ‘That’s big of you. Congratu-fucking-lations, forgiveness must be a beautiful thing.’ I twist away, my hands clasped behind my head in a desperate attempt to keep hold of myself. The words ‘love, patience and forgiveness’ return, but they’re less palatable in this instance, further from grasp.
Resting against the worktop, I hold myself in. ‘So, why now? Why do you want to talk about it all now? How is it that I’m doing this on your terms, again?’
‘I’ve served my time, Ed. I’ve had the space to reflect. Time to get help. I was drinking, I was hurting. I couldn’t think straight. It’s not an excuse, Ed, but it is a reason. And why now? Because you have a right to know. Because I owe you. Because I want the opportunity to stand in front of you and tell you how sorry I am. How totally, truly, sorry I am. How I have had to learn a way to forgive myself for what I did, but I don’t expect you to.’
‘You know, I didn’t believe it to begin with. I refused. I didn’t feel that she would have ever done anything to hurt me. To hurt Oli. But Lisa planted these seeds, you know. Seeds of doubt that grew; they wove their way around my heart until doubt constricted me. I’d find myself staring at the sky, desperately asking for a sign, anything! Anything to let me know that I could still trust Ellie, that our love was real, that our marriage was built on the foundations I believed in.’ My voice rises, volume an alternative to physical violence. ‘Do you know how hard that is? Hmm? Do you? To be grieving, to find it impossible to function some days? Only getting out of bed because I had to? Because of Oli? And then’ – Simon goes to speak, but I hold my hand up – ‘I’m not done… And then, to have your own son dragged into it. To question who he is, to not know if he even is your son… my son.’
‘I don—’
‘I almost don’t want to know now. I almost don’t want to hear what you’ve got to say, because I’ve found a way to live and surely that’s all that matters now? Because the day I came home to pack up our house, finding more evidence that he might not be mine, was the day I realised I couldn’t think about any of it any more. You were out of the picture, Oli needed a father. What choice did I have?’
‘Ed—’
‘And then, when I tried to visit you, when I tried one last time to get the truth, something I had every right to hear, you rejected my request for a visit. It could only be the last act of a guilty man, couldn’t it?’
‘I was ashamed,’ he answers quietly.
‘Yeah?’ I step forward, my knuckles twitching and itching. My hands are aching from holding them tight shut. I reach on top of the fridge; a wicker basket contains Ellie’s memory box. I blow the dust off, lifting the lid to reveal the DNA test on top of all the papers. I throw it across the room at him; it hits him in the chest, then tumbles to the ground. ‘Ashamed, were you? Well, you fucking want to be, because if you did this, if the thing you had to tell us was this—’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ellie’s voicemail. On your phone. I heard it the night I came to see you.’ I step closer to him again. ‘She said you had to tell us. That it was going to be hard, but it was necessary.’ We stand, nose to nose. ‘If you and my wife were having an affair, I’ll fucking kill you.’
‘Of course we weren’t!’ Simon’s heavy breath is hot on my face. ‘Ed! Of course we weren’t.’ I stumble back into a chair. ‘I can’t believe you’d think that. Is that what you’ve thought all this time?’ I stare at him. ‘And you thought Oli…’
My strength is evaporating. ‘Ellie had a test, I found it. A DNA test.’
‘I know, she told me.’ I narrow my eyes, waiting for the explanation. ‘Lisa sent it. Ellie was opening it one day when you came in. She said she hadn’t known what to say that wouldn’t make you start asking questions. I think she shoved it in her wardrobe out of sight so that she could dispose of it somewhere you wouldn’t find it.’
‘Why would Lisa send it?’
Simon pulls up a chair in front of me. ‘I saw quite a lot of Ellie in those last few months of her pregnancy.’ I shift, uncomfortable, not sure if I can listen to him. Not sure if I trust him. He takes a moment; the room falls silent except for the quiet tick of the kitchen clock. ‘I hate that clock,’ I hear Ellie say, and realise it’s the first time in a long time that I’ve heard her.
Eventually, Simon starts again. More controlled this time, as though he’s detached himself from the words. ‘I don’t know if you remember the baby shower Ellie’s friends threw for her?’
‘They went for a meal at Hart’s.’
‘Yes. Well… Ellie saw me there with a colleague.’ I narrow my eyes, trying to see where this is going before he gets there. Searching for the sense that this is true. ‘I met someone at work… we weren’t having an affair,’ he says quickly. ‘We’d just spent time together, on a course, realised we had things in common. I liked talking to her – Sally – she was kind. She made me laugh. She didn’t make me feel like I was a piece of shit. She didn’t belittle me, she didn’t chide and rile me. She didn’t try to get a rise out of me every time she opened her mouth.’
‘As opposed to Lisa?’ I say, not really in need of clarification. If I look back, I can probably see the slow dismantling of his confidence.
‘Exactly. And the more we talked, the more I wanted to find a way to be with her, but I didn’t have the strength or the confidence, maybe. I didn’t even know if Sally liked me that way, but when Ellie saw us she joined up the dots.’
‘She was smart.’
‘She was trying to get me to leave Lisa, not necessarily to get together with Sally, just to leave an unhappy marriage. She told me that she wouldn’t tell you, or Lisa, about what she’d seen, because she knew that Lisa would use it against me, but that she didn’t like to lie. She told me that she needed me to find the strength to be happy. To end things with Lisa. But it started getting complicated. I tried to leave and Lisa kicked off. She started making accusations about me. She saw messages from Ellie on my phone and put two and two together and came up with three. She used it against me. I don’t know
if she ever really believed it or just found it a useful tool to hurt me even more.’
‘I still don’t understand why Ellie was with you that day.’
‘She told me she was going to talk to you. That she couldn’t deal with the pressure any more. The stress of it – Lisa was being vile to both of us. Ellie had just had Oli; she was exhausted and didn’t want the distraction. I panicked, I didn’t want her to tell you because I knew you’d kick off about Ellie being caught up in it all, especially given Oli. And I just… I needed more time, I was upset. I’d told Sally that I was definitely going to leave Lisa and asked her if she thought we had a future together. But she told me she wasn’t sure. That she didn’t want me to leave Lisa for her.’
‘Rather do it for yourself?’
‘I guess so, but I didn’t understand that at the time. I felt stuck, I felt weak, I felt totally lost and useless. I didn’t… Ed… I didn’t…’ But he can’t finish the sentence because my little brother, the one I should be there for, the one I should protect, the one I see now that I should never have judged this way, has just lost it right in front of me. And the pain I can hear, coming from his boots, it’s too much. It’s too much. I lean over to him, resting my arms across his back, holding him until he has enough strength to catch his breath. Because it’s clear to me now that this was the most awful, accidental, terrible thing to have happened and despite all that I’ve believed for the last four years, my brother wasn’t to blame.
It’s also clear, in the most painful way possible, that I have spent the last four years questioning the one person who, deep down, I knew wouldn’t do that to me and yet I was dogged by doubt. I was wrapped up in the possibility of something I couldn’t prove or disprove and I let that take over my life. I let it twist my memories. I lost faith in the one person who would never have lost faith in me. I’m so sorry, Ellie. I’m so sorry…
The Lost Wife: An uplifting page-turner about grief, love and friendship Page 23
