Forgotten Husband

by Susan Bella Ikin

  The next few days were heavenly. Mitch often only went into the office for brief periods, sometimes just working over video calls from his office, and usually trying to schedule meetings for early in the morning, or last thing for the working day, so that we could spend the day together uninterrupted. We had a ball shopping for beach gear, and loading up our little yellow bathing box at the beach with plastic buckets, spades, floaties, umbrellas and the like so that Michelle could have fun digging in the sand while we sat and watched her, making plans and holding hands. Mitch lined up several appointments with estate agents to look at houses that were available for sale, and even considering sites that may be suitable for redevelopment. Many of the houses were beautiful, but my head was spinning after viewing so many and I couldn’t remember which was which. One day, however, both Mitch and I fell in love with the same house, although for different reasons. Mitch wanted to hear the waves, but that meant you had to be near the beach, and that meant living on a busy road, and I was worried about Michelle’s safety, plus the volume of cars meant that most of the noise was actually from traffic, not waves. Then one day, an exasperated agent took us to see a new listing, and my jaw dropped as we approached it. Not knowing anything about architecture, I didn’t know what style it was, although the agent told me it was over a hundred years old. That wasn’t what interested me, all I could see were the deep verandahs all around, on both stories. The house was huge, although many of the houses in this area were, so that didn’t mean much. We walked around the outside first, and my jaw dropped even further when I saw the size of the lot of land it sat on.

  “It’s huge! Look at all this area that Michelle can run around on, they haven’t put a pool in, which is great”.

  “Most people around here like a pool, that’s one of the reasons so few houses are suitable for you”, said the agent drily.

  “Well, the beach is only a street away, why do you need a pool? It’s just one more worry with small children, I’d rather not”, I stated adamantly, watching Mitch, who was looking at the house on the other side of the back fence. I couldn’t work out what looked more rundown, the house or the fence. Mitch turned, smiled at me briefly, then looked at the agent.

  “If we like the inside of this house, I’ve got a job for you. Let’s finish looking first though”, Mitch said mysteriously.

  Inside the house had been completely modernized, which left me with mixed feelings. The outside of the house was so beautiful, I would have liked to see what old features the inside would have had, but it was too late, there was not a fireplace, pressed metal ceiling or old fashioned light switch in sight. Instead it was sleek and modern, and although I initially found it a bit jarring after expecting something to match the outside, I could still see the beauty in it. I ran my hands over the vast stone benches in the kitchen, finding that the main kitchen was really just a show piece, there was actually a working kitchen and scullery behind the main kitchen. The beautiful area full of stone benches and glossy cupboards seemed to do little more than be a place to make coffee and gather for a chat. I inspected the downstairs bathrooms, then went looking for Mitch and Michelle, who had disappeared. I found them in a home theatre room, which was set up complete with recliner chairs and big screen. Mitch turned to me with a big smile on his face, looking like a little boy drooling over a treat, and then strode off to explore further. When I heard him exclaim in joy from another room, I knew he had found something else to admire, and sure enough, there he was in a games room with a wet bar.

  “Oh, Helen, have you found anything you don’t like about this house yet, because I haven’t!”

  I shook my head, then we went upstairs, being trailed by the estate agent who was at last looking happy, possibly scenting a sale. We quickly wandered through the upstairs bedrooms at the front of the house, noting that each bedroom was big enough to have a study area and had its own bathroom, then we headed for the rear of the house where the agent had indicated that the master bedroom was. He was standing there, smiling broadly, and he flung open the double doors, stepping aside triumphantly. Mitch and I looked at each other, and I knew this was it. The room was enormous. As well as having room for a king sized bed, there was an area set up with love seats, with a gas imitation log fire between them, and a small writing desk to the side. I investigated an unusual looking cabinet, only to find that it housed a television and sound system. They could be enjoyed if required, or the cabinet closed to hide the clutter and the lights from the on/off switches. The bathroom looked like something from a spa hotel, with an enormous spa on a podium, and a shower big enough for four people, and then we found the dressing room. The room was lined with shelving and hanging space, and had full length mirrors on opposing walls so you could stand in the middle to see your back and front at the same time, as well as having chairs in the middle to sit on while you dressed, and display cabinets behind the chairs to allow you to see your accessories at a glance. While I looked bemusedly at the dressing room, thinking that my meagre wardrobe would barely fill a quarter of the space, Mitch wandered off, calling to me from the main room.

  “Helen, you’ve got to see this”.

  Mitch and Michelle were standing on a balcony, which looked out over the house behind and across the road to the beach. Craning my neck, I could see the line of bathing boxes. The balcony had shutters which could be rotated to a privacy setting to create an indoor/outdoor room, where you could enjoy your privacy while still allowing the air in, or the shutters could be opened to let in all the light.

  “It’s beautiful Mitch, but if they build a second story on that house behind, or pull it down and build something bigger, you’re going to lose the view”.

  Mitch looked at me determinedly.

  “Not if I have anything to do with that. Do you like it? If you do, I’m in. This is just perfect I think”.

  “Are you sure, Mitch? It must be outrageously expensive. We’ve only seen it the once, I mean, I love it, but are you sure?”

  Mitch moved over to me, bringing Michelle with him, then put an arm around me.

  “I’ll have to get it checked over by Steven, and get an architectural report to make sure it’s sound, but providing there’s nothing wrong with it, can’t you just see us here? Downstairs is lovely, and that study off the kitchen is large enough that I can use to work from home, but think about being up here of an evening when the kids are in bed. We can sit by the fire, watch some tv, or”, and he moved closer, whispering into my ear so that the agent couldn’t hear, “we can leave the balcony door open, and the shutters on the privacy setting, so we can make love with the beach as a backdrop”.

  I giggled and nodded. The thought had occurred to me too.

  “Let’s just hope that the house over the fence never changes then”.

  Mitch kissed me swiftly before putting Michelle’s hand in mind and striding over to the agent, who was waiting discreetly just outside the room.

  “This is the best house you’ve shown us so far. I will need my solicitor and architect to go over it of course, and if the news is all good and we decide to buy, I want you to approach the owner of the house behind us and find out how much they want for it”.

  I don’t know whose jaw dropped more, mine or the agent’s, although he was professional enough to recover quickly. Sensing two commissions, he took some details from Mitch before we looked around one last time and left.

  As Jeff drove us back home, I turned to Mitch.

  “Are you serious about buying the house behind us? What if they don’t want to sell?”

  Mitch turned to me and smiled.

  “Unless the owner is an elderly person who has an emotional attachment to the house, I think you’ll find that people usually have a price. Let’s just hope that whoever it is isn’t so attached to their house that they can’t see the value in taking a good offer for it. To me, it looks like whoever owns it hasn’t been looking after it well, so maybe they’d be happy to get a good price and move on”.

&n
bsp; “So, would you fix it up and put a tenant in it then? That way at least I guess you get control over what happens to the house, and no-one will build up to spoil the view?”

  “The house goes. I’ll have to get an architect to draw up plans that are pretty enough to get approved by the council, but I was thinking of putting in a big garage, so that we can get a few cars in, and then just knock down the fence between the two properties and expand the back yard. Maybe put in a gazebo, or –“ and he looked at Michelle who was quiet in her car seat – “maybe a nice big cubby or something. Wouldn’t you just like some space?”

  I hummed my agreement, and then spent the rest of the time driving back to our apartment thinking of trees, and barbecues, swing sets, and all sorts of things that would be lovely in a back yard.

  When we got back to the apartment (which I still had trouble thinking of as home), Mitch went into the study to make phone calls to get the property checks underway while I changed Michelle and got her ready for some lunch. Mrs Santos was doing some laundry and ironing, so I had the kitchen to myself. Mitch came in, and sat in a chair heavily.

  “Are you alright Mitch? You’ve been looking tired lately. You seem to be at work less, but you’re not looking rested. Do you want to take a nap?”

  “I must be tired. You suggested I go to bed, and I actually was thinking of sleeping, instead of inviting you to join me. I’m not very hungry, so don’t make anything for me, just a coffee perhaps?” The last was delivered with a big yawn. As I made Michelle’s omelette, and a coffee for Mitch, I watched him playing with Michelle. How could I not have noticed before? Mitch didn’t just look tired, he looked fatigued, his eyes looked heavy and there was a heaviness to his movements that hadn’t been there a few days before. I wracked my brain, trying to work out how Mitch could be so tired. He had cut back the time he spent at work, so he got to sleep in a little every day, and our outings weren’t that strenuous. Mrs Santos came in just as I carried Mitch’s coffee and Michelle’s omelette to the table, and she shooed me away from the kitchen when I tried to return to clean up.

  “You just feed your baby, I’ll take care of this”.

  As Mrs Santos and I had reached an uneasy truce, I decided not to argue, and settled next to Michelle to supervise her lunch – which translated into trying to prevent bits of food ending up on the floor, or in her hair – while Mitch started drinking his coffee. Suddenly Mitch jumped up from the table and ran out of the room. I looked after him with worry, realizing that Michelle had stopped eating and Mrs Santos was watching the direction he had run off in as well. Feeling uncomfortable, I asked Mrs Santos to watch Michelle and went to our bedroom, looking for Mitch.

  My breath stopped when I saw him lying in the doorway to our bathroom.

  “Mitch! Mitch! Wake up!”

  Panicking, I tried patting his face, and he twitched, so as I was reassured that he was still breathing, I rolled him to his side, and ran to the bedside phone to call an ambulance.

  ~

  The hospital waiting room had a children’s area, so we waited in there so that Michelle could play. I was pacing up and down, flicking my gaze between her and the glass door. We had been here for a long time already, and the nurses wouldn’t let me see Mitch. Jeff sat patiently where he could see both Michelle and I, and he tracked my movements.

  “Mrs Barrow, can I get you something? I don’t want to leave you here alone, but I can get you something from the vending machines”.

  “No Jeff, I’m ok. What do you think the holdup is? Surely they can tell me something?”

  I had my back to the doors while I was talking to Jeff, and I spun around as I saw the expression on his face change, to see two police officers opening the door. I clapped my hands to my mouth in shock, and sagged. I would have fallen had Jeff not leapt to his feet and grabbed me.

  “No! Go away! I don’t want to hear what you have to say!” I blubbered, already crying.

  The older, male officer looked at me searchingly, then looked at Jeff, who was still holding me, before speaking.

  “Mrs Barrow I presume? What do you think I have to say?”

  “You’re here to tell me that Mitch is – “ I couldn’t say it. Somewhere deep inside a part of me was wondering why the doctor hadn’t come to give me the awful news, but I knew what news the police often brought, and I couldn’t hear it, I couldn’t hear them say that I would never see Mitch again.

  “Mitch is what? Finish your sentence”, said the officer, watching me closely.

  I dashed the tears from my eyes, getting confused.

  “I don’t understand. Why are you here?”

  The officer stepped closer to me, watching me very closely.

  “Mrs Barrow, we would like you to come with us to answer some questions. The hospital called us, as is standard practice when they suspect poisoning”.

  I stared at the officer dumbfounded. My brain could not process what he was saying.

  “Poisoning? What do you mean? Do you mean food poisoning? But Mitch and I had the same breakfast, and I’m not sick”.

  “They’re running some tests now, but they suspect arsenic poisoning”.

  I sagged against Jeff, and he had to bodily hold me up. I couldn’t talk, the horror of the last few hours replaying through my mind. Slowly I began to realize that not only had Mitch been poisoned, but that the police probably suspected me of doing it. I vaguely became aware of Jeff speaking.

  “… and I doubt that Mrs Barrow had anything to do with it, if that’s what it is. Maybe you should test her and the little girl too, they’ve all been living in the same house, eating the same food. I also need to call Mr Barrow’s solicitor before you question Mrs Barrow further”.

  I came to my senses then, in all the shock I had forgotten that nothing had been said about Mitch. I straightened up and stepped up to the police officer, placing a hand on his arm. He looked down at my hand and then up at me.

  “Look, I know as his wife I’m probably the first person you suspect, but you haven’t told me about Mitch. Is he going to be ok? We can sort everything else out later, but I have to know, I have to see him. If you think I’ve tried to hurt him, then surely if a doctor stays in the room you will let me see him? I have to see for myself that Mitch is ok. If you let me see him, I’ll answer your questions. I know I haven’t done anything wrong, so you won’t find anything, but I have to see my husband”.

  In the end, Michelle and I were taken into the emergency rooms for some blood tests. Michelle cried but was very good when they took blood from her. I only flinched slightly, watching the police talking to the doctor near a screened off cubicle. Eventually they beckoned me over, and Jeff took charge of Michelle, soothing her tears while he kept an eye on me.

  Mitch was lying on a hospital bed, looking very pale, with all sorts of machines hooked up to him. I looked at the doctor, who was looking at me with hostility, but by this time I was used to that and brushed it aside.

  “How is he, doctor?”

  “It’s still early days, but I think he will recover. How long has he been unwell?”

  “Well, he didn’t say anything about feeling sick until today, but when I look back, he was looking tired for a few days, I couldn’t tell you exactly how long. Does it help to know?”

  “Well, it depends on the dose he got. If he got a lot, all at once, then he would have got sick quickly, but the prognosis would not be good. If he got smaller doses over a period of time, it would have taken him longer to show symptoms, but that also means his chances of a full recovery are better”.

  “Well, that’s good, isn’t it? If he was tired for a while, then that’s the better option, isn’t it?”

  “For him, yes, but then we have to wonder how he ingested the poison. One big dose could possibly be an accidental poisoning, but smaller doses over a period of time are suggestive of someone trying to poison him”.

  I moved closer to Mitch, reaching out a hand to smooth it across his brow.

  “I
don’t care what you think. But what you’re saying means he has a better chance of recovery, so I’m going to cling to that”. I lowered my voice and continued speaking softly. “Come back to me Mitch, you promised you wouldn’t leave me”.

  “Mrs Barrow”, said the police officer in a loud voice. “A deal’s a deal. You need to answer our questions now”.

  They guided me to a police car, with Jeff following, holding Michelle.

  “Where are you taking her?” he demanded. The police officer turned and looked at Jeff.

  “You’re the hired guard right?” At Jeff’s grim nod he continued, “We’re actually going back to the Barrow residence. I’ve just been told that the premises is being processed for possible sources of the poison. The solicitor authorized it, and we want Mrs Barrow to help us to identify what products Mr Barrow used that she didn’t”.

  “Fine”, ground out Jeff, then he turned to me. “Keep your chin high, Mrs Barrow. I’ll meet you there”. He sprinted off with Michelle, and I watched them go, worrying about who would look after Michelle if Mitch was in hospital for a while, and the police arrested me. Even though I knew I hadn’t done anything, I could tell they thought I had, and I was worried how that would translate into action.

  When we arrived at the apartment, there were a lot of police traipsing around, and Mrs Santos was darkly muttering about ‘her floors’. I was escorted straight into the kitchen, where I found it in much the same condition as when we had left, hours before.

  “When you left in the ambulance, the housekeeper called your husband’s solicitor, and he told her not to touch anything”, the police officer explained, seeing me looking around the kitchen. “Can you tell me what each person was using?”

  As I explained that the omelette was Michelle’s, and that Mitch had been drinking the coffee, the dishes and the contents were bagged and labeled. The police officer spoke to me.

  “What was yours? Weren’t you eating or drinking?”

  “No, I was going to fix myself a sandwich after I fed Michelle. Mitch was tired so I gave him the coffee, I don’t drink coffee, only tea”.