The Wife He Never Forgot

by Anne Fraser

  She sighed again.

  ‘I’m not lying for you. If I tell them you’re coming home with me, then that’s what’s going to happen.’

  He paused and studied her through narrowed eyes.

  ‘Isn’t there the small matter of your partner? Won’t he object?’

  Partner? What was he on about? ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘I saw you. With two little girls. You were taking them out of the car.’

  ‘You were in London?’ she asked incredulously.

  ‘I came to see you. That’s when I saw you with them.’

  ‘You came to see me? Why?’

  ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay. As soon as I saw that you were, I left. I didn’t think the father of your children would appreciate a visit from your ex.’

  ‘The father of my children?’ Then it dawned on her. She couldn’t help it, she had to laugh. If only Nick knew that apart from a few awful attempts at dating she’d remained on her own in the years since he’d left. ‘Nick, the children you saw me with are my nieces—Charlie’s twins. I have them to stay on a regular basis.’

  ‘The children are your brother’s?’ Something flashed in his eyes before the old hooded expression she remembered so well was back. ‘I assumed they were yours. I know you always wanted children.’

  Yes, she had. But didn’t the idiot know that she wanted his children and not just anyone’s?

  * * *

  The first time she’d brought up the subject they’d been married for a year. They’d been lying, limbs entangled, in their bed in the warm afterglow of lovemaking. She’d had her head on his chest as he’d run his fingers through her hair. He had been due to go back to Afghanistan the next morning and the thought of being without him again had been tearing her apart.

  ‘I’m thinking of stopping the Pill,’ she’d said.

  His hand had stilled.

  ‘What’s the rush?’

  She wriggled around so she could see his face. ‘No rush. I’m just thinking long term. It’s better to be prepared for pregnancy. You know, stop the Pill six months in advance, start taking folic acid, that sort of thing.’

  He tossed the blanket aside and got out of bed. Even after all these years she remembered exactly what she’d been thinking—actually, not so much thinking as feeling—a lethargic longing to have him back in bed beside her. She’d certainly had no inkling of what was to come.

  ‘I don’t want children.’ His back was towards her.

  ‘I don’t mean right now.’ Her laugh had sounded shaky even to her own ears.

  He turned to her and smiled. ‘Good.’

  ‘But I do want them some time, Nick. I know we’ve never spoken about it, but I always assumed you wanted them, too.’

  He sank back onto the bed and wrapped her in his arms, burying his face in her hair. ‘You’re all I want, all I need, Tigs.’

  She’d knelt and placed her hands on either side of his face. She could never get enough of looking at him. She could never get enough of him. That was part of the reason she wanted his child. Children would make them complete.

  ‘And you’re everything I ever wanted.’ She smiled. ‘And everything I didn’t even know I wanted. But to have a baby...’

  He’d kissed her and immediately she wanted him again.

  ‘You haven’t stopped taking the Pill, have you?’ he whispered into her hair.

  ‘Of course not!’

  ‘Then wait until I get back from Afghanistan and we’ll talk about it again. In the meantime, we only have a short time before I have to leave and I know how I want to spend it.’

  And as he buried his face in her hair, the subject had been forgotten. If only she had realised then...

  Nick was looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

  ‘You can have the spare room. I’ll have to clear the twins’ stuff out and evict the cats. They won’t be best pleased, but it won’t be for long.’

  ‘You have cats?’

  ‘Two.’

  ‘And no new man?’

  ‘No,’ she admitted, but couldn’t resist adding, ‘At least, not living with me.’

  Once more something shifted in his eyes, but once again it was gone in an instant. ‘I’ll be out of your hair within a week.’ He gave her a quirky smile that sent shock waves down her spine. ‘Now that that’s settled, could you tell the nurses while I get dressed?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘IT’S CHANGED,’ NICK said, looking around the sitting room.

  ‘Hardly surprising in six years,’ Tiggy responded dryly. ‘I’ve redecorated. And without your stuff...’ The sentence hung in the air. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’ she added. God, this was going to be so much more difficult than she’d imagined. It felt weird treating Nick like a stranger in the home they’d once shared.

  Tiggy frowned at his solitary small bag. Nick always travelled light but this was ridiculous. ‘Where’s the rest of your stuff?’

  ‘In storage.’

  ‘In storage? After six years?’

  ‘Don’t need much.’

  ‘But you must be staying somewhere?’

  ‘I have a rented flat near the hospital in Birmingham. I considered buying but...’ He shrugged.

  She wasn’t really surprised. Part of the problem when they’d been married had been Nick’s refusal to put down roots. His reluctance to have children only the first sign that he couldn’t cope with domestic life—at least, not with her.

  ‘I’ll put your bag in the spare room then I’ll make us something to eat. Chicken stir-fry okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let me help.’

  For a moment she felt a smile cross her lips. Nick had been hopeless in the kitchen, but that hadn’t stopped him from coming up behind her whenever she’d been cooking and distracting her by nibbling her ear lobe... The images came thick and fast: her stirring a pot, Nick standing behind her, his hands on her hips as he nibbled her neck, her turning in his arms to return his kiss—whatever was cooking on the stove burning but neither of them caring. Nick lifting her onto the kitchen counter, sweeping away the makings of the dinner with his hand, hiking up her dress, his hands under her bottom, his thumbs on her inner thighs. No wonder so many of the meals she’d cooked had ended up uneaten.

  Sex had never been the problem. Whenever Nick had come home on leave they’d rarely made it to the bed, at least not until much, much later. He had barely come through the front door before he’d been kicking it closed and pulling off her clothes, kissing her, pinning her against the wall, his lips hard and demanding, snaking a path from her mouth, down her breasts and across her abdomen.

  She’d matched him step for step; her hands on his waist, unbuckling his belt with fingers that had shaken with the urgency of her need for him. She’d never thought she could be so wild when it came to sex, but with Nick it had been hard to be anything but.

  Good God, was the kitchen always so warm? She shook her head in an attempt to clear it. With memories like that, how the hell was she going to get through the next few days?

  Somehow.

  She chased the last of the images away and lost the smile. She would not remember that. She had to remember why they’d broken up, the stuff that had torn them apart.

  ‘No. Stay where you are. I’ll manage.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘For God’s sake, Tiggy, I’m not an invalid. I’m perfectly able to help.’

  ‘I wasn’t making a reference to your physical health, Nick, I was simply remembering how useless you were in the kitchen. Last time I checked, you could barely make toast. Unless that’s changed?’

  When he smiled lazily, her bones turned to liquid. ‘Hey, if you remember, I can do a mean dissection on a chicken or a carrot.’

  She bit her lip. The sooner Nick was out of her life the better.

  * * *

  In contrast to her fevered memories, dinner was an awkward, stilted affair; more like those at the end of their marriage than th
e beginning of it.

  ‘Tell me about the operation they’re proposing, Nick. From what Luke told me, you don’t really have a choice.’

  Nick leaned back in his chair, tipping it up on its rear legs just as he always had.

  ‘I took some shrapnel two years ago. I was out on a rescue that didn’t go according to plan.’

  She noticed he didn’t say what the rescue had involved and she knew better than to ask. Besides, Luke had already told her most of it.

  ‘Luckily I was wearing my Kevlar jacket, but a piece of exploding shrapnel found its way into the base of my neck. I was knocked out but when they X-rayed my spine they decided it was too risky to operate.

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It’s moved. I always knew it was a risk. They think it’s better out than in.’

  ‘And you? What do you think? Surely having the operation is a no-brainer?’

  ‘You would think, huh? Unfortunately, they’re going to have to cut away some tissue that’s grown over the shrapnel and they can’t be certain what will happen when they do. It’s possible, even likely, that the bit that’s left is lying close to the nerves emerging from the spine and they might sever them if they try to remove it.

  ‘On the other hand, if they leave the shrapnel where it is, it might not get any worse—or at least not for years. Either way, I might have to leave the military.’ His eyes were bleak. The army was everything to Nick. More than she could ever be.

  Even though he’d hurt her more than she could bear, a part of her longed to reach out to him, to comfort him. Instead, she clasped her hands together tightly.

  ‘Luke told me you saved his life.’ It was all she could think of to say to change the subject.

  Nick shook his head irritably. ‘It was what we are all trained to do, Tiggy. Something you never seemed to understand.’

  ‘Only because you stopped talking about it.’

  Silence fell. Then he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. ‘Anyway, enough about me. I want to know about you.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Are you happy?’

  Tiggy started clearing their plates. Happy? Her life was full and she was reasonably content but there was still a deep, dark void that nothing could fill. ‘Let’s not go there, Nick.’

  ‘You were better off without me,’ he added so quietly that she’d almost not heard him.

  She whirled around. ‘Don’t put the break-up on me. You left me long before you walked out that door.’

  ‘Oh? If I remember correctly, it was you who left me.’

  ‘Only because I didn’t know what else to do to make you...’ Tiggy struggled to get her breathing under control.

  ‘Make me what?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I came back the next morning but you’d gone. In the end you were the one who gave up on us.’

  ‘It was for the best, Tiggy.’

  ‘It wasn’t for you to decide that on your own.’ She took a deep breath and when she was sure she could speak calmly, she continued. ‘What’s the point in raking up the past? I actually do have a good life, Nick. I run the A and E department, I have friends, my family, my nieces—’

  ‘Your cats.’ He picked up Spike and rubbed his head. ‘I can see you have a life. A good, safe life. Isn’t that what you always wanted?’

  No, it bloody well wasn’t, and he knew that. She wanted to shout at him, to rage and throw the plate she was holding at him. But what was the point?

  ‘Pudding?’ she asked instead.

  * * *

  The next morning, Nick was up and at the table by the time Tiggy stumbled bleary-eyed into the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked, holding up the pot.

  She nodded and took the chair opposite him, noticing that they’d both instinctively taken the same places at the table they’d done during their marriage. It could have been six years ago. Except that they had been two different people then. It was these small domestic details that threatened to undo her.

  ‘No run this morning?’ She could have bitten her lip the moment she’d said the words.

  Amusement gleamed in his eyes. ‘Not unless I want to give the neighbours some fun at the sight of a man with a limp jogging.’

  ‘Sorry, Nick. Of course.’

  ‘But I do intend to go for a walk.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you? Just in case?’

  He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘In case?’

  ‘You know. In case you need help.’

  His chair scraped back. ‘How many times do I have to say I don’t need mothering?’

  Tiggy stiffened. He couldn’t have chosen words that would have hurt her more.

  * * *

  The next time she had brought up the subject of babies, Nick’s reaction was even more dismissive. ‘I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a father.’

  ‘Of course you are. You’re loving, kind...patient... You’d make a brilliant dad.’

  They were in a restaurant, celebrating their anniversary and the fact that Nick was home again. For a whole three weeks this time.

  Nick waited until the waiter had poured them some more wine, before leaning over the table and taking her hand. ‘Can’t you be happy with what we have, Tiggy?’ he asked.

  ‘I am. But a baby! Now, that would make everything perfect.’

  He sat back in his chair, his eyes guarded. Tiggy had noticed that increasingly, when he returned from a tour, it took him days to get back to the teasing, happy-go-lucky man she’d married.

  ‘I don’t want a child of mine growing up without a father.’

  His words chilled her to the bone. Lately Nick had been refusing to talk about what was happening in Afghanistan, saying he wanted to forget about it while he was on leave—a natural response perhaps. However, she knew from the news that the fighting was getting more intense and the knowledge filled her with dread.

  ‘Like you did?’ she asked quietly. Nick had told her not long after they’d met that his father had died when he had been ten. When she’d tried to probe deeper, he’d distracted her by kissing her until she hadn’t been able to think straight. Since then she’d asked him many times about his family, but it had become clear it was one more topic to add to a growing list that was off limits.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with my childhood.’

  ‘Then why? Talk to me, Nick. Please.’ They both knew she wasn’t just talking about his childhood. If only she could get him to open up to her, perhaps everything would be all right. ‘Tell me what’s going on in Afghanistan at the moment.’

  His expression remained shuttered. ‘There is nothing to say. Nothing I want to say. Believe me, you’re better off not knowing.’

  ‘Don’t treat me like a child. I read the news, I watch TV. Part of me doesn’t want to see it or hear about it, but I can’t help it. You’re out there so I need to know.’

  He smiled sadly. ‘I’m safe, Tiggy. I don’t go out on patrol any more.’

  She knew that. She also knew Nick had been told that he was too valuable to risk close to the fighting as his experience was of more value back at Camp Bastion. He’d tried to protest and argue that he was needed out on FOBs with his men. It had been the first argument he’d lost. Not even Nick had been able to defy orders on a permanent basis. After that, Tiggy had begun to notice he’d stopped talking to her about his life on the base.

  ‘You’ll be leaving the army soon and there isn’t an A and E department in the country that wouldn’t be glad to have someone of your expertise.’ Nick had spent two three-month stints at the Royal London passing on his knowledge of emergency medicine to the doctors there. It had been the happiest time, for her, of their married life. Nick however, had been impatient to rejoin his regiment. That had hurt, even though she’d tried to understand his reasons.

  ‘Surely we can have a baby when you’re settled back here?’ she continued. The thought of their baby had made her smile. ‘He or she will be just like you...’
>
  Nick frowned. ‘Can we leave this conversation to another time?’

  ‘When? We’ve been married for almost three years. Can’t we at least agree that they’re part of our future?’ Despite the warmth of the restaurant, she felt chilled. ‘Do you even want children, Nick?’

  He sighed and looked away into the distance. ‘One day, perhaps.’ He fiddled with his glass, his eyes softening. ‘Come on, Tigs, let’s not argue. Not tonight.’ He reached across the table and ran his thumb up the inside of her arm. Desire for him pooled in her belly. Even after three years one look, one touch was all it took. They would talk about having children again when he’d finished with Afghanistan. She smiled. ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go home.’

  * * *

  While Nick tapped away on his laptop, she fed the cats, cleared away the breakfast table, scrubbed the kitchen floor and put on a load of laundry.

  Her frantic activity couldn’t keep him out of her head. She should have let him rot in that hospital ward. What had she been thinking? She’d just about got over him and now she was letting him back into her life. Her nice, safe, contented, albeit grey and boring life.

  Life had been so exciting with Nick. But the excitement had brought more pain than she’d ever thought possible. Six years it had taken her to get over him. Six long years.

  Yet he still set her nerve endings on fire.

  She thumped the washing machine to make it go on—she really needed to get it fixed someday—and stomped up to her room.

  She dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt and pulled her recalcitrant curls into a ponytail.

  Now she felt more able to deal with him. She’d been at a disadvantage earlier in her Snoopy pyjamas. At least now she looked more like the grown-up, mature, sensible woman she was. She added a touch of lipstick and some foundation just for good measure, before stomping her way back down the stairs.

  He still made her feel like a teenager. Damn the man.