The Day My Husband Left: An absolutely gripping and emotional page-turner

by Amy Miller

  He shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You never know until you try.’

  He turned away from her and continued with the tea-making, before stopping and putting the kettle down.

  ‘Have you got any wine in your fridge?’ he asked. ‘And any bread?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Both.’

  ‘Do you have any plans for dinner?’ he asked, picking up the parcel of mackerel.

  Heidi shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Zoe isn’t back until tomorrow.’

  He smiled.

  ‘Give me half an hour and I’ll do us a little barbecue in the garden and cook the mackerel,’ he said. ‘Then you can tell me more about William. If he’s anything like Johnny, I want to meet him.’

  Heidi thanked him, and while he sorted out the barbecue, she thought about how she should contact William. Phone? Email? Letter? She could drive to the café right now.

  Quickly, she pulled out a piece of notepaper and dashed down a note.

  Dear William,

  I believe my husband Johnny Eagle has been in contact with you. I would love to also be in touch with you and have some news. Please email me at heidi@eaglesworkshop.co.uk if you’re happy to meet me.

  Short and sweet. Nothing too emotional. Quickly, she folded it in half, tucked it into an envelope, stuck on a stamp and put it in her pocket. A great weight lifted from her shoulders. Later, she would check the full address of the Blackbird Café and post it. If Johnny’s death had taught her anything, it was that life was too short not to. And Max was right. You never knew until you tried.

  The smell of the barbecue being lit filled her nostrils, and for the first time in ages, Heidi felt a little jolt of happiness.

  Twelve

  The sea was the grey of school trousers and the sky a few shades lighter. The colour perfectly reflected Heidi’s mood. She’d been in for a swim, but today the water felt like treacle. Her arms ached and her leg kick felt uneven, so after a few minutes, she’d given up.

  After drying off in the beach hut and having a hot drink, she stomped along the beach, head down, hands balled into fists. The note she’d written to William was bothering her. After her initial enthusiasm, it had taken two days before she found the courage to post it. Then she had waited next to the postbox, questioning out loud whether she should fish it out again with a coat hanger or ambush the postman. A passer-by had given her a wide berth and a nervous smile.

  Doubt about whether she was doing the right thing assailed her. Envisaging a conversation with William was impossible. She would have to break the news of Johnny’s death – perhaps, as a grieving widow, he would consider her a burden.

  Stopping for a moment to look out again at the sea, she kicked at stones and shells on the beach. If only her own mindset was more stable. One moment she felt high as a kite, thinking that she might meet her son. The next she plummeted into darkness. She envied people who went through life on an even keel.

  The worst thing was that Rosalind disapproved, and she hadn’t even spoken to Scarlet and Zoe. They were her priority, yet she’d sidelined them. Any sensible person would have spoken to them first, then they could have decided what to do as a family. She’d made excuses to herself. Scarlet was in the throes of a new relationship with Frankie and dealing with Charlie; Zoe had returned from her weekend with Leo in a positive mood – the break had done her good. The last thing she wanted was to give them both another shock. But was it fair to hide the truth from them?

  ‘Oh God,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I should have told them first.’

  She continued to walk along the beach, feeling cold and pathetic, when her phone rang. It was Walter, from the flat underneath Rosalind’s.

  ‘It’s nothing too serious,’ said Walter, ‘but your mum tripped up in the garden and hurt her knee. I’ve bandaged it up for her – I used to be a nurse, by the way. She’s lying on her bed with her knee up. I’ve made her a tomato sandwich, but I’m sure she’d like to see you.’

  Heidi wondered if that was true – they hadn’t spoken since their awful argument.

  ‘I’m down at the beach; I’ll be two minutes,’ she said, heading up off the beach and towards the flats. It was Walter who greeted her at Rosalind’s door, ushering her inside, while he stood awkwardly in a blue-and-white-striped apron over his shorts and T-shirt.

  ‘Walter!’ called Rosalind from her bedroom. ‘Who’s that?’

  Heidi raised her eyebrows at Walter, who lifted his conspiratorially in reply.

  ‘It’s me, Mother,’ called Heidi, then turned to Walter. ‘Thank you, Walter, for helping her and for calling me.’

  ‘That’s no problem, my dear,’ he said. ‘Your mother’s a great friend, so full of life. I’ve helped bandage her knee and given her some painkillers. Some of my strong ones – codeine.’

  He stopped to stretch out his back. ‘She’s been telling me about Eagles,’ he said. ‘And I wondered if you could take on one of my armchairs? It’s a bit soggy in the middle. Soggy bottom.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There might be a bit of a delay though. I’ve got a lot on.’

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I’m not sure how long I can wait.’

  He trailed off and Heidi was about to ask why, when his eyes misted over. He cleared his throat.

  ‘My wife,’ he said quickly. ‘It’s my wife’s chair.’

  Heidi frowned. She didn’t know anything about Walter’s wife – Rosalind had never told her – but his eyes were so full of pain that she quickly tried to make him feel better.

  ‘I’ll prioritise it,’ she said. ‘I can collect it, any time.’

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ he said brightly, untying the apron and laying it gently across the chair. ‘I’ll leave you and your mother to it. Just bang on the ceiling if you need anything. That’s what Rosalind does. I don’t mind at all – night or day. I can’t sleep anyway.’

  Heidi closed the door behind Walter and went through to her mother’s bedroom. It was spartan – a photograph of Alan on the bedside table, a lamp, a glass of water, her glasses and a book about garden flowers.

  ‘I know I don’t look my best,’ said Rosalind, propping herself up in bed. ‘I’ve only got half my face on. But neither would you if you’d spent half the morning with your head in a hedge.’

  ‘Mum,’ said Heidi, unable to stop a tear leaking from her eye.

  ‘Oh, Heidi,’ Rosalind said, her voice softening. ‘Save your tears. I’m fine.’

  Heidi flushed with relief.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  Rosalind shrugged and sighed.

  ‘I fell over,’ she said. ‘I was feeling light-headed, toppled over and got this sharp pain in my knee. Of course, bones my age can break easily, but it’s not serious. I got a bit of broken glass in my knee and twisted it, but Walter helped me. He’s awfully gentle. Used to be a nurse.’

  ‘Light-headed?’ Heidi said. ‘Was that before or after Walter’s codeine?’

  ‘Before,’ said Rosalind, giving her a pointed look. ‘I often feel faint. I fainted in the bathroom last week, knocked the side of my head. I have low blood sugar apparently. Probably my age.’

  Rosalind lifted up her hair and showed Heidi a scab above her ear.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Heidi. ‘Why is everyone withholding information from me?’

  Rosalind took Heidi’s hand in hers and squeezed. ‘It’s hardly earth-shattering news,’ she said. ‘No need to be dramatic! Who else is withholding information from you?’

  ‘Johnny, for a start,’ Heidi said. ‘And I had to hear from Zoe that Scarlet was having relationship troubles, and now you! I want to help my family. I don’t want you all withholding information.’

  Imagining the letter she’d written to William winging its way across town, Heidi dropped her gaze, suddenly aware of the hypocrisy of her words.

  ‘I know you do,’ Rosalind said gently. ‘But please don’t waste time worrying about me. Look, Heidi, I’m sorry about the other day
when we fell out a little bit. I shouldn’t have got so angry when you told me about William, but this is one of those situations I just know will not end w—’

  Rosalind’s voice trembled before her words faded to nothing. A beat passed between them.

  ‘Why were you so cross?’ Heidi said quietly. ‘Does the thought of me meeting him frighten you? We’ve got nothing to lose by talking openly, have we? After all these years of keeping him a secret, locked away. I often wonder what it would have been like if I’d been able to keep him. Would it have been so terrible? I know you and Dad were horrified that I was so young, but couldn’t we have overcome that? It was the 1980s and it was perfectly acceptable for unmarried girls to keep their babies.’

  ‘Trollops,’ said Rosalind, with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘No, not trollops,’ said Heidi, shaking her head. ‘Just young girls, in love with a boy and having a sexual relationship. I knew how to be safe, but we made a mistake.’

  Rosalind sighed.

  ‘It was complicated,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I didn’t want you to suffer – your life, your ambitions, your dreams, your reputation – I was so proud of you. I wanted you to have a full, free life. I was so angry, with you, myself… Oh it’s so damn difficult to explain. You don’t understand.’

  Rosalind suddenly seemed defeated, her limbs slack.

  ‘What don’t I understand?’ said Heidi. ‘Try me.’

  Rosalind’s eyes were glassy and her cheeks cherry pink. She turned away from Heidi and stared out of the window for such a long time, Heidi wondered if she’d forgotten she was there.

  ‘What don’t I understand?’ she repeated.

  Rosalind turned back to face Heidi, her eyes filling with tears.

  ‘You’re so damned intent on making me confess all,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I was going to take this to the grave with me, but the reason I insisted you gave up William was because—’

  She fell silent.

  ‘Because what?’ Heidi prompted. ‘You can tell me.’

  Rosalind’s eyes slipped to her hands, and when she spoke, her words were barely audible.

  ‘The same thing happened to me at the same age,’ she whispered.

  Heidi frowned. ‘What do you mean the same thing?’ she asked. ‘Did you get pregnant?’

  Rosalind leaned her head back against the pillow. ‘I did,’ she said faintly.

  Heidi’s heart thumped in her chest. ‘And what?’ she asked. ‘You had an abortion?’

  Rosalind was silent for ten seconds, but it felt like an hour.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Abortion was virtually unheard of in my day. Illegal. My mother thought I was shameful and organised for me to go to one of my father’s distant cousins in Brighton. I had a girl. I had to vow I would never try to contact her. And when the same thing then happened to you, I felt so guilty for not giving you the information you needed to protect yourself and I panicked. I reacted the wrong way. I just wanted to make the problem go away. I didn’t want your life to be defined by a mistake. So, me and your father made the decision we did. It seemed right at the time. I never dreamed you’d go on to marry Johnny and have more children with him. I know I wronged you, and I’m so desperately sorry for that.’

  Rosalind seemed to shrink under the bedspread. Heidi dug her nails into her palms.

  ‘Are you going to say something?’ Rosalind asked quietly. ‘You normally have plenty to say.’

  Heidi swallowed. ‘I… I’m… just trying to take this in,’ she muttered. ‘So, somewhere out there I have a sister?’

  ‘Half-sister,’ Rosalind corrected. ‘The father was my first love. We were terribly young and met at a dance. Clueless and head over heels.’

  Heidi blinked. It seemed impossible that the mother she’d always known as a straight-down-the-line, chin-up and ‘proper’ person was ever head over heels.

  ‘Do you know anything about her?’ Heidi asked.

  ‘Not much,’ said Rosalind. ‘I know that her new parents called her Tuesday, which was the day she was born.’

  Rosalind paused, as if uncertain whether to say more.

  ‘Go on,’ said Heidi. ‘You might as well.’

  ‘About ten years ago she contacted me out of the blue,’ said Rosalind, a deep frown line on her forehead. ‘I nearly dropped dead with shock when her letter arrived. She told me she lived in Brighton and loved to travel. She sent me a photograph – it’s in my glasses case in the drawer. Don’t look now. Your father didn’t even know about her, so I had to write back saying I wasn’t interested in meeting her. It wasn’t an easy letter to write, but I was putting your father and you first. She told me she had no children of her own.’

  Heidi slumped back into her chair. Her head felt ready to explode.

  ‘She wrote to you, and you told her you didn’t want to know her?’ Heidi cried, incredulous. ‘How could you do that?’

  ‘Because your father and you didn’t know about her existence!’ Rosalind snapped. ‘I didn’t see what good could come from any reunion. She had her own life and we had ours.’

  ‘That must have broken her heart,’ said Heidi.

  Rosalind’s shoulders sagged. ‘Possibly,’ she said sadly. ‘But I hope that she’ll understand that I didn’t have a choice. What would your father have said? It probably would have killed him.’

  ‘You always have a choice,’ said Heidi.

  ‘That’s a pleasant thought, but it’s not true,’ her mother replied.

  ‘But, even though you went through this,’ Heidi asked, ‘you still thought it was better for me to give up William?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rosalind. ‘I thought it was for the best. It was for the best.’

  ‘And now? Now that Dad is dead and I know about Tuesday, would you like to meet her?’

  Rosalind shook her head and dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand.

  ‘I can’t open up old wounds,’ she said. ‘I don’t think there’s any point. I had my chance and I turned it down. My loss.’

  Rosalind’s expression was stricken.

  ‘I can’t take all this in,’ said Heidi.

  ‘I know. I knew you’d be upset. That’s why I’ve never told you. I’d planned to take this to my grave. I’ve carried it with me all these years. I wish I’d done things differently. I hope you don’t hate me for keeping this from you?’

  ‘No,’ Heidi said. ‘I’m not upset. I’m sorry for you, that’s all. I’m sorry you had to suffer.’

  Rosalind sighed. ‘Well it’s not as if any alternative was an option back then,’ she said.

  Heidi squeezed Rosalind’s hand with as much kindness as she could communicate. Rosalind’s eyes brimmed with tears.

  ‘You could try crying,’ Heidi choked. ‘Just let it all out.’

  ‘I can’t,’ said Rosalind, swiping her nose with a tissue. ‘If I start, I won’t stop, and what good would that do to anyone? There’s no use in crying. Oh, Heidi love, I’m tired now. Those tablets Walter gave me…’

  Rosalind turned on her side and, like a light being flicked off, closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep.

  After a few minutes sitting completely still by the bed, Heidi looked in the bedside drawer and found the glasses case containing the photograph of Tuesday. She shared many of Rosalind’s features.

  Trying not to disturb Rosalind, Heidi took a photograph of it with her mobile, softly kissed her mother’s cheek and crept out the room.

  Leaving the flats, Heidi was struck by a thought about wounds: bandages covered cuts and bruises, signalling to others to offer sympathy. But what about the invisible wounds people carried in their hearts? There were no bandages for those, yet the scars ran deep and lasted a lifetime. If there were physical bandages for emotional hurts, perhaps people would be kinder to one another.

  Thirteen

  The email arrived into Heidi’s pocket during dinner at Pizza Express. She was out with Scarlet and Zoe and usually hated the intrusion of mobile phones o
n family life. It made her stomach sink to see a table of people sitting together but all silently staring at their phones. Johnny’s rule had been that unless you worked for Médecins Sans Frontières, there was no need to have your mobile lined up next to your knife and fork. But she couldn’t resist.

  ‘Why are you checking your phone, Mum?’ said Scarlet, raising her eyebrows. ‘You know what Dad used to say. No phones unless—’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘Unless you work for Médecins San Frontières.’

  They all laughed, but Heidi felt as though she’d had an electric shock. With a shaking hand she pushed her phone back into her pocket. The sight of William’s name in her inbox made her incapable of swallowing another mouthful of pizza. She lifted her water glass to her lips and gulped the cold liquid, trying not to give away her internal panic. Zoe cleared her throat.

  ‘You know when Leo and I were in Scotland?’ said Zoe. ‘We, well, we were talking about maybe taking a year out together. I might defer my application to Plymouth.’

  Heidi was taken aback by Zoe’s change of heart. Taken aback and worried – she didn’t want Johnny’s death to throw her daughter off course.

  Scarlet and Zoe were looking at her, expecting an answer, but she was battling with the urge to read William’s email.

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ said Heidi hurriedly. ‘You’ve always been dead set on nursing. I think you should carry on with your original plan. What would you do with a year out?’

  Zoe shrugged and sighed.

  ‘I just think we might need a bit of time out,’ she said quietly. ‘Leo wants to work and save up some money.’

  ‘I think it would be a mistake,’ said Heidi. ‘I don’t think you’ve thought it through properly. Just because you had a nice weekend in Scotland doesn’t mean you should take a year out.’

  ‘I knew you’d say that,’ Zoe said, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re so uptight about everything. Dad was the laid-back one.’

  Heidi sucked in her breath. Zoe’s words stung and she was aware of her hypocrisy. She leaned back in her chair, glancing at the people sitting at the other tables. There were young couples not much older than Zoe or Scarlet, locked in conversation, hanging off each other’s words. It was times like these when she missed Johnny dreadfully. Usually, in this setting he’d be deeply engaged in the conversation, injecting humour and stories. He’d enjoy the pizza, gobble up the leftovers, pour Heidi a glass of water while he had a beer. Ask her if she liked her pizza. Whether she wanted to try a slice of his. Small things. Gone.