She read the rest of the replies to her post while she waited. It was the outpouring of sympathy that she’d needed. Women all in the same position: trying so desperately to remain relaxed about the activity that had overtaken their lives.
Ange’s message pinged up and Fliss clicked it open.
Found out about this on another forum and it would be perfect for us! A TV company are doing a documentary we both qualify for. If we both signed up to take part we might actually get to meet each other. I don’t think we should pass the opportunity up! A xxx
Fliss breathed a selfish sigh of relief. She would be delighted if Ange was pregnant, but there was something deep within her that wanted them to go through it together. If only it could work out like that. Absentmindedly, Fliss clicked on the link Ange had added to her message to see what she was on about.
Are you struggling to get pregnant second time round?
Have you conceived naturally before and can’t work out why this time nothing seems to be working?
Award-winning Bright Idea Productions will be filming a series looking at the causes of secondary infertility. If you are interested in taking part then please email us with a brief summary of your situation and we will forward an application form.
‘Will think about it,’ Fliss messaged back to Ange, even though she already knew the answer was no.
Outside she worked away at the front door of the cabinet, taking the old varnish off, and wished it was a quicker job. Every time she stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead a prick of guilt jabbed her in the belly. Why didn’t she want to take part? If it meant she’d meet Ange then maybe it’d be worth it. Really, she knew exactly why she didn’t want to and it wasn’t because it might turn out Ange was some kind of cyber freak. It was the horrid word that appeared in the recruitment advert: infertility. It was a word she didn’t wish to be faced with. Ange and Fliss were on the same journey, yes, but Fliss refused to believe she was having the same problems as Ange and her husband, Mark. Whereas they were at it like rabbits to no avail, Fliss barely saw her husband enough to have sex, let alone conceive. What Fliss and Ben had was a different set of problems entirely.
As she started to work away at the varnish again, unwelcome thoughts began to niggle away at her. After two years of trying, perhaps it was time to stop blaming it on the fact they only saw each other at the weekend.
Chapter Two
‘Flowers! Mum, you shouldn’t have.’ Fliss took the bouquet from her mother and tried not to blush at the thought of the vase she would have to put them in.
‘If I can’t spoil my daughter and my gorgeous granddaughter then what am I to do in life?’ Joan said, while removing her coat.
‘Grandmaaaa.’ Hollie launched herself down the stairs and flung her arms round Joan, almost sending her off her feet.
‘This must be the best greeting I’ve ever had. Now are you all packed for your sleepover, young lady?’
‘I need to show you something, Gran.’ Hollie tugged on Joan’s cardigan sleeve, leading her up the stairs, whether she was a willing follower or not.
‘Wait a second, Hollie. I think Gran would like a cup of tea before you both head off.’ Hollie pouted at Fliss, not quite able to understand that not everyone could keep up with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old.
‘Not to worry, love. I’ll pop up while you put the kettle on. Right, young lady. You have exactly five minutes of Gran’s time before I need to sit down with your mum.’
With that, Fliss watched as her mum was whisked away up the stairs, shortly followed by the thuds of Hollie’s latest dance routine pounding through the low ceilings.
Fliss popped the flowers in a vase, checked on the lamb shanks and made a start on peeling the potatoes. Despite scheduling in a late dinner with her husband, he’d not long since texted to say he was running even later than expected. Who lived like this and survived, she wondered. Whenever she watched homebuyers on telly seeking out a dual lifestyle you never got to see this side of the idyll, which was anything but. When they’d set out to find somewhere so Hollie could grow up outside of central London, she’d wanted to get the best out of everything. They’d settled on a small cottage on the Kent coast so they would be in-between both families. They’d sold their London flat for a profit and Ben had downsized to a less affluent, more up-and-coming part of East London. It made sense that he shouldn’t have to suffer the daily commute, causing him to be thoroughly miserable and arrive home when his daughter was already in bed. At least that had been the plan. Now, several years in, Fliss wondered why she had bothered factoring in his family when they’d only visited once. She’d much rather live nearer her mum and sister. If only she’d known that when they made those decisions. What she would do for a crystal ball. Life would be so much easier.
As it was they’d settled well in the coastal village of Westbrook. She’d made friends with some of the school mums, there was a healthy demand for her business, but she couldn’t help feel that something was lacking. Maybe it was missing her husband that was the problem.
‘Gosh, darling, quite a little mover, isn’t she?’ Joan said, slightly out of breath.
‘Yes, she’s got grand ambitions on that front. Seems she doesn’t think her dance instructor’s routines are technical enough so she likes to create her own versions.’ Fliss passed her mum the cup of tea she’d prepared absentmindedly.
‘Do you need a hand with anything here before we head off?’
Looking around the kitchen-cum-diner, it was hardly the setting for the romantic dinner Fliss had planned. There were pans and plates left over from Hollie’s meal covering every square inch of sideboard making the place seem cluttered. Clearing up would be a welcome distraction. ‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll have it spic and span in no time. Everything’s under control.’
‘Will I get to see my son-in-law before we have to disappear?’
Fliss studied a piece of onion skin that had managed to find its way onto the floor. Ignoring her mother’s signs of disapproval, she scooped it up. ‘He’s missed the right train to be here before you leave. He’ll be on the next one.’
‘Again? Seems it’s becoming a habit.’
Damn, Fliss didn’t want to go down this line of conversation. It never came out favourably for Ben and it was always so hard to explain, especially when she was fed up with making excuses for him. Joan arched an eyebrow in a way her daughter couldn’t match as she waited for the usual deluge of excuses.
‘Yes, I know. It’s rubbish. But we’re going to talk about it. It’s not down to Ben how unreliable the transport system is. And you’ll see him tomorrow.’ There she went again, jumping to his defence, finding herself riled so easily when discussing it with her mum who seemed to always have it in for her husband and the amount of time he spent away from his family. It was draining having to continually defend the lifestyle that she’d chosen. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t working out quite how she’d envisaged, but it was their lot and she was doing her best to stick with it. Or rather, stick with Ben if she was being more specific.
‘I’m ready!’ Hollie bounced into the room, her blonde ringlets almost as giddy with excitement as she was. Behind her, a pink roll-along suitcase, the zip not quite secured, and a trail of clothes in her wake.
‘Were you planning on taking those with you?’ Fliss gestured towards the mess her daughter had made.
‘Oh dear!’ Hollie giggled at the mishap and set to collecting the items.
Fliss smiled at Hollie’s optimism as she watched her place a swimming costume, snorkel and ballet skirt into the case. Just how many activities did her daughter hope to squeeze into her overnight stay with Grandma? ‘Have you remembered to pack any pyjamas, young lady? As, from the look of things, you’re not going to have much time for sleep.’
‘Yesss, Mummm!’ Hollie said, the indignant teenager within her sounding disgusted. How quickly her young daughter was growing up. On some days, six going on sixteen couldn’t be closer to the truth.
‘Well, if you’re all set to go we best be on our way,’ Joan said, before taking a final slurp from her mug of tea.
‘Terrific!’ Hollie said, like a stayover at Grandma’s was the most exciting thing in the world.
Once they’d left, Fliss placed a bottle of wine into the fridge and hung her head in there a moment longer than necessary. It was preferable to sticking her head in the oven. She listened to the soft buzzing inside and the silence of the cottage beyond. A rare moment of quiet. If only her life was as calm.
***
It read 20:47 on the cooker clock when Fliss heard the jangle of Ben’s keys in the door. Somewhere along the line, her husband had stopped making any effort. Despite the commute, it was unreasonable for him to turn up so late when there were arrangements in place for them to have an evening together.
In the time it had taken for Ben to arrive, Fliss had devoured two large glasses of wine and resorted to nibbling on breadsticks. Fed up and somewhat tipsy by this point, she’d done what she was for ever telling Hollie not to do, and ruined her dinner by munching her way through a Kit Kat Chunky and a packet of crisps. The lamb shanks were being kept warm in the slow cooker, but the creamy mash and onion gravy would need reheating.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Ben said, as soon as he reached the kitchen. He dashed small kisses all over her head as he leaned over her.
Fliss had heard it before and she was beginning to get sick of it. ‘Why are you so late?’
‘Something cropped up at work.’
‘Always something.’ Fliss sighed deeply, resigned to the fact her husband’s work took precedence far too often. He should have taken a lease on his office at the architectural firm he worked for as his second home rather than buying their London flat. He must barely see the place with the hours he kept.
‘I haven’t ruined dinner, have I?’ Ben regarded the pots on the stove.
‘Nothing that can’t be revived.’ Fliss wondered if the same could be done for their marriage. ‘Ben, I arranged this because I think we need to talk.’
‘About?’
Fliss set to warming up the various elements of their meal – not that she was hungry any longer. ‘Life.’ It was hard to easily sum up all the things that were bothering her.
‘Yes, we’re definitely alive.’ Ben snuck behind her aiming for a cuddle.
Fliss swung round with a wooden spoon in hand. ‘I’m serious, Ben. All these extra hours you’re working seem to be adding up. Late night returns on Friday and you keep having early departures on Sunday. It’s not like we see each other much anyway without more chunks of time being eaten into.’
As the spoon was in the way of getting to Fliss, Ben took a seat at their tiny bistro table. ‘I know it’s been rubbish of late. We’ve just been so busy. They’ve taken on too many projects.’
‘But what about us? Your family. Surely we’re more important. I’m beginning to think we made the wrong decision about us being here and you working up in London.’ They’d reached a point where Fliss reckoned she spent more time with the postman than her husband. Their food dished up, she placed it on the table and waited for Ben to respond.
‘You’ll always be more important and I’m sorry it’s been like this. It’s a brief hiatus of extra work, but it’ll be back to normal soon.’ Ben tucked into his dinner, clearly not as concerned about how things were currently.
‘It’s not great for when we manage to extend the family. Imagine how stressful it’s going to be when I have a newborn to deal with as well. I can’t have you choosing work over family then.’
‘We’ll deal with that when it happens.’
Fliss didn’t like it when Ben was so pragmatic. Deal with it when it happens was his motto for life. ‘Well, as it doesn’t seem to be happening, I was thinking it was time we went and got checked out.’
‘Go to the doctors?’ Ben glanced up from the greedy mouthfuls that Fliss’s full stomach wasn’t keeping pace with. ‘But they’ll only tell us what we already know. That the reason you’re not pregnant yet is we’re not trying enough. And there’s no way that can improve when we live most of the week in different regions of the country.’
‘But there might be something wrong. Just because we had Hollie without any problems doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem now.’ It was hard knowing Ben was so indifferent about the subject.
‘Don’t you think you’re overthinking it?’
‘How is it overthinking? I want a baby, you want a baby, and two years on we don’t have one. I don’t think looking into getting everything checked out is such an extreme line of thought.’ Fliss pressed her tongue against her front teeth, not wanting to get angry at her husband despite his thoughtless comment.
‘You misunderstand me. What I mean is the stress of it all. They often say the reason women don’t get pregnant is because they become very obsessed with it. I think with you that might be the case.’
Fliss’s jaw dropped open as Ben tucked into another piece of lamb. How could he insult her like that and not realise what he was saying? There was frank. Then there was too frank. This wasn’t a discussion with colleagues over blueprints; they were talking about their future.
‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Always putting my foot in it,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I just mean I know it’s been playing on your mind. Of course getting pregnant will take longer for us when we’re only together for short periods of time. We’re not going hell for leather like when we were first married. It’ll be down to that. When it happens, it’ll be the right time. Poring over internet forums and seeing other people get success only makes you more aware that we haven’t yet.’ Ben leaned across the table and caught hold of her hand. ‘I just think it’s not healthy to think about it more than necessary. We have a daughter to look after and care for. We should be pouring our love into her and the rest will come naturally.’
Fliss jerked away from Ben’s grip, annoyed that he still wasn’t getting it. ‘And what if it doesn’t? It’s not going to hurt to go to the doctor’s and start things off with some blood tests. At least we’ll know if I’m ovulating. I’m not as young as I was when I fell pregnant with Hollie and at thirty-five they already considered me a geriatric mother back then. Now I’m forty-one. It’s not like I have time on my side. Things might have changed and, if it’s a simple fix, well, I think we should explore the possibilities.’ She played with her food and forked a lump of mash across the plate. She’d felt sure Ben would be happy to start doing something about it; after all, it had been going on for long enough. She thought back to Ange’s suggestion about signing up for the programme. ‘My friend mentioned something that might help. There’s a TV documentary looking into this kind of problem and they’re providing funding for any of the couples taking part. It wouldn’t cost us anything if that’s what you’re worried about.’ The other thing their dual lifestyle was affecting was their finances. They didn’t have much disposable income and certainly no savings to cover the cost of any potential IVF treatment.
‘TV? I’m not going to do something like that to go and make a spectacle of ourselves. And I’m not worried. We just need to give it another six months. If nothing has happened in that time, we’ll go to the doctor then.’ Ben swigged on his glass of red wine and the steely expression in his eyes told her not to pursue the subject any further.
Fliss had guessed he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the show given his reluctance with everything relating to their fertility. Ange’s conclusion on the matter was that Ben must think there was something wrong on his side and didn’t want to admit his virility was affected. Looking at him now, though, he didn’t look like a man worried about his sperm count. His gaze softened and he offered his best come-to-bed smile. It had to be said, his looks had only improved over the years. His dark-brown hair might be spattered with grey, but that only enhanced his olive complexion and deep-brown eyes. The man she’d fallen in love with was still there; she just did
n’t see him as often these days.
‘We can work on it a bit harder once this project is over. I’ll take some time off. Then we’ll see where we’re at. If nothing has happened, we’ll look into what can be done. Just promise me one thing – that you’ll relax and stop reading things on the internet that are making you worry.’
Fliss didn’t like to admit it, but maybe he was right. She was becoming obsessed. A bit of time out might be the answer.
‘Come on. There is only one way I know to make babies.’ And with that, Fliss allowed Ben to lead her upstairs.
CARINA™
ISBN: 9781474049573
All That is Left of Us
© 2016 Catherine Miller
by Carina, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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