The Missing Pieces of Me: Discover the novel that will break your heart and mend it again

by Amelia Mandeville

  It sounds like a terrible thing to say. It sounds so awful I haven’t been able to bring myself to admit it for the last three weeks. But today the truth was there, staring me in the face.

  I don’t like being alone with the baby. In fact I can’t stand it.

  Between Dustin rushing home from work in the evenings, and lunchtimes if he can, and then Gran popping by every day, it’s not for very long that I am alone with her, a few hours at the most. But still, I’ve come to dread them. I am tense when I’m with her and I swear she can sense it because she cries all the time. She cries relentlessly. It’s as if she’s screaming for help, for someone to come and take her away from this anxious, incompetent imposter pretending to be her mother. Not a single day has gone by since Dustin went back to work when there hasn’t been half an hour of Zara howling, purple-faced and angry in her cot, with me crouched against the wall, sobbing into my knees.

  Gran is here again right now, in the act of bundling Zara into a clean, freshly ironed Babygro. She tried to coax me out of the house again today but I can’t face it yet, so we stayed inside. She offered to cook me and Dustin dinner tonight, but she’s always helping out and I know I can’t get too dependent on this. So I say no, but thank you, I’ve got it. I want her to cook, I want her to stay, and put the baby to bed, but even more than that I want to be like all the mums all over the world and do it on my own, like I should be able to.

  If I believe I’ve got it, at some point maybe I will have it.

  I say goodbye to Gran, put a snoozing Zara down in her crib, put the kettle on to make a cup of tea and sink onto the sofa. OK, I’ll take twenty minutes now to recharge and then I will start preparing dinner. It’s a Friday, it’s the weekend tomorrow, which means Dustin will be here for two whole days. Him and me together, the three of us a family. I close my eyes. I’ve never appreciated silence as I do right now. This snippet of time just for myself.

  I wake up to Zara crying. Shit. I fell asleep. Shit. You idiot, why did you fall asleep? I clamber towards our bedroom, my head foggy, eyes squinty with sleep as I pick up Zara, and start feeding her. I hiss in pain as she latches on, rubbing my eye with my other hand, trying to force myself awake. I can’t believe I fell asleep, what’s wrong with me? I sit down on the bed as she continues to feed; she’s very hungry. I grit my teeth, closing my eyes, trying to remember what Gran and the midwife told me. That it will get easier. And I’m feeding my daughter, some women can’t do that at all … But they said it’d get less painful, and it hasn’t. They said the pain would last only a couple of weeks, but it has been more than five now. Is she doing it wrong? Am I doing it wrong?

  It’s OK, Willow, I tell myself. Pain is worth your baby being fed. I grab a pen and start doodling with one hand, the other supporting Zara’s head. It’s my coping mechanism, I’ve found. Doodle through the feeding pain. Anything to distract myself from the sensation that someone is holding a lit match to my nipples every time my daughter feeds.

  I sigh, letting go of the pen, using both hands to support my daughter. I was so much better at designing, doing work, revising at school, than I am at being a mum. How does that work? Shouldn’t this be natural? Isn’t this what I was meant to do?

  Zara stops feeding and pulls away, looking up at me with her big eyes. My heart opens, I do love her so much. I really do love her.

  Then she starts crying again.

  Here we go.

  Just at that moment I hear the front door slam. ‘I’m home, where are my girls?’ Dustin’s voice is booming and exuberant.

  ‘In the bedroom,’ I call, and my voice cracks with the exertion.

  Within seconds, Dustin comes through the door, a smile illuminating his face. He comes towards us both, kissing my forehead, then Zara’s.

  ‘You can take her,’ I say, already feeling conscious of the bags under my eyes. ‘She’s done feeding.’

  He smiles even wider. ‘Are you?’ he says, in a high-pitched tone, as he carefully takes Zara into his arms. Were you a hungry baby?’ He strokes the end of her nose with his finger.

  Dustin’s a natural.

  Chapter 47

  Dustin

  Time to move out of my previous life.

  I stand at the door of the flat, what used to be our flat, where I used to open the door to Willow and Zara, sweeping them both into my arms. I exhale, then I open it sharply.

  And I’m met with … boxes.

  Boxes, bags, bin bags, suitcases. Everything piled in the living room.

  Maybe it’s good. If it looked exactly the same, it would have hurt. It would have been a gloating replica of my previous life. My landlord called and said my contract had run out, which was no surprise, but also that he had people moving in next week, which was. Elliot hired a van, and he and Alicia drove me here. They said they would help me pack everything up, but I didn’t want that. So Mum has Zara, and those two are at the breakfast club down the road, the one Willow and I used to go to, while I pick through the worn-out pieces of our old life.

  I am just clambering over the boxes towards the kitchen when the bathroom door opens and I turn to see Naomi coming out, a large box in her arms. She stops and stares at me for a moment, then without hesitation she carefully places the box on the floor, walks over to me and wraps her arm around me. I hug her back, feeling my face sinking into her shoulders, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume, the coconutty smell of her hair.

  ‘Thank you for doing this,’ I mumble.

  ‘It’s nothing, seriously, it’s nothing.’

  I pull away, a little awkward. ‘It is, thanks, Naomi.’

  She smiles. ‘I’m happy to help, I’ve told you that.’

  Suddenly I feel so overwhelmed by the task ahead of me. How can I pack up the life we had? How can I box and label and sort the two happiest years of my life? I sink down onto the floor, and Naomi does the same, a concerned hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Hey, are you OK?’

  ‘It’s just … ’ Oh God, am I going to cry? ‘It’s just so weird being back here.’

  She laughs slightly. ‘Well God, yeah, I can imagine! I think anyone would find it strange.’

  Except there’s nobody to compare with, is there? Because nobody we know has had their girlfriends run off and leave them literally overnight.

  ‘We all miss you at work, Dustin,’ she says quietly.

  I take my hands away from my face and look at her, properly. She looks sad. Why is she so sad?

  ‘Yeah,’ I mumble.

  ‘Are you sure moving back to your mum’s is the right decision?’ she asks gently. ‘You know they haven’t replaced you yet at the office? You could still come back if you wanted to?’

  I shake my head. ‘This is the right thing for me, Nom. I’ve got to move on and I can’t do that here. My focus is Zara now.’ Then I stand up, clapping my hands, before any more mopey conversation can happen. ‘Well, the rest of these boxes aren’t going to pack themselves.’

  Naomi stands up too. ‘You better start with your room then, I haven’t been in there since you left. I didn’t want to … you know, I didn’t want to intrude.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  I try the same tactic with my bedroom, opening my door quick, and this time it’s not boxes I’m greeted with. It’s our room, it’s our bed, our bedside tables, our rug, our photos on the cabinet, our Post-it notes on the mirror, our photos on the wa—

  Wait. There are no photos on the wall.

  We had had a ton printed last year, and Willow had stuck them all over the far wall of our bedroom. She had called it our mosaic. It was a pretty incoherent mosaic, I had said. Black and white, matt, gloss, many different types, pictures of us at the pub, pictures of us by the beach, bed selfies, group selfies, standing on the pier, eating breakfast, Zara in our arms, so many different photos …

  But now all I can see are the remains of the Blu-tack on the wall.

  ‘Naomi!’

  She’s there in an instant. ‘What is it?’


  ‘Where are the photos?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where are the photos that were on this wall? Did you already pack them away?’

  She frowns. ‘I haven’t touched them. I told you, I haven’t been in here.’

  Well, I think, someone has been.

  Chapter 48

  Willow

  Then – April 2019

  People are staring. All around me I can feel their eyes burrowing into me and my ears are growing hot. Terrible mother, they’re thinking.

  I cannot get Zara to stop screaming. We are at the checkout aisle and there’s an enormous queue behind us, but I can’t wrestle her into her pram. My basket of shopping stands abandoned next to me. I’m trying to gesture to people that they should go ahead of me to the empty till, but I can’t do two things at once and nobody is moving. And even if I could I doubt I could make myself heard over Zara’s wails. She’s like a siren.

  An old lady passes me, and I swear I see her shake her head disapprovingly.

  I blow my hair away from my clammy face and try gently hushing her again. But it won’t work.

  ‘You might want to try feeding her love,’ someone calls from behind me. ‘She’s hungry.’

  I ignore them.

  I’ve tried feeding her. I’ve burped her. I’ve changed her. I was in the toilet for half an hour hoping she’d stop crying. Nothing is working. Zara is screaming with the full force of her lungs, and suddenly I feel like I can’t get enough air into mine. Oh God, I haven’t had a panic attack in almost two years. But I recognise the warning signs instantly. I abandon the shopping basket and, clutching Zara in one hand and desperately trying to steer the pram with the other, I make for the exit.

  Once outside I lean against the glass pane of the shop window, trying to force oxygen into my lungs. Keep it together, Willow, deep breaths. Deep breaths.

  I fumble in my pocket for my phone and call Dustin.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  He doesn’t answer.

  I try his office line, but that rings out too. A familiar cheery tone at the end tells me I’ve reached Dustin at James Milton Estate Agents, he’s away from his desk right now but if I leave him a message he’ll get back to me just as soon as he can. Alternatively I can reach him on email.

  I groan. Zara hasn’t let up for even a second. How does she have the stamina? How can something so small make that much noise?

  I call Gran. Two rings, and she picks up the phone.

  Fifteen minutes later, Gran is walking towards me, folding me and Zara into a hug.

  ‘You all right, petal?’ she says with a frown.

  I try to nod, but realise it comes out a firm shake of the head.

  ‘Do you want me to hold her?’

  Passing Zara to Gran feels like handing over a searing hot plate that has been burning into my flesh for the last half hour. I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. And as soon as she is snuggled in Gran’s arms, Zara’s wails subside. And apart from a few snuffles and the odd hiccough, she’s quiet.

  Why?

  Chapter 49

  Dustin

  ‘What, even the photos of me?’ Georgia says.

  She is sitting opposite me on my bed in my room back in New Haw, standing Zara up, as she makes guided steps on the bed in Georgia’s arms.

  I’m pacing back and forth, as I have been for the last twenty minutes.

  I roll my eyes. ‘All the photos, Georgia, literally all of them.’

  She shrugs her shoulders. ‘That is weird.’

  I grit my teeth. Why is she not more freaked out about this? Her lack of reaction is really pissing me off.

  ‘Georgia, do you know something?’

  She finally looks up. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you know something? Because you never seem anywhere near as stressed, panicked, or worried as I do.’

  She glares at me. ‘Dustin, I’m offended.’

  ‘I’m serious, Georgia. If there’s something you’re not telling me … ’

  ‘Dustin, just cos I don’t freak out all the time like you do, doesn’t mean I’m any less worried or confused. But honestly, I really don’t see the point in us both acting like this.’ She makes a disdainful gesture towards me. ‘Are you sure you didn’t take the photos down before you left? You were really upset and anxious, maybe you got angry and … ’

  ‘And what?’ I say furiously. ‘Went on some psycho rampage tearing down things in the flat? I think I’d remember that.’

  She’s quiet for a moment.

  ‘Alicia mentioned she’s been a bit worried about you when she let me in earlier. She mentioned something in the park … ’

  I groan. I knew Alicia wouldn’t let that go so easily.

  ‘Yes, well, there’s this guy I’m seeing … ’

  Georgia frowns. ‘As in … dating?’

  ‘What? No! I keep seeing him randomly. Like he was on this street once when I was coming back from a walk, then I saw him watching outside college, then in the park. I feel like he’s following me.’

  ‘Alicia said she couldn’t see anyone.’

  ‘Well yeah, every time I try to speak to him, he disappears. And I don’t know what’s going on, but what if he’s got something to do with Willow disappearing?’

  I’m speaking so quickly I run out of breath. I steal a glance at Georgia who is stroking the top of Zara’s head, watching me carefully.

  ‘Well say something, Georgia.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re crazy, Dustin.’

  I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘So I’m being stalked then.’

  ‘Well no, I’m not saying that either, I just think maybe you should look into talking to someone.’

  ‘Well that’s what I’m doing here.’

  ‘No, I mean a professional.’

  ‘So you do think I’m crazy.’

  ‘Dustin, talking to someone doesn’t mean you’re crazy, not at all.’

  Yeah, whatever. I know what she means.

  Chapter 50

  Willow

  Then – May 2019

  Gran spent all day with me today, we knitted when Zara had naps. Then she left, and I decided I would do some housework, get the house spic and span for when Dustin comes home. But Zara isn’t having any of it. Once I finally get her settled I glance at the clock. Shoot. It’s nearly five. Right, sorry, Dustin. I was going to make tuna steaks but it’ll have to be pasta. Dustin is really good with the housework and he doesn’t like me to cook, telling me to wait till he gets home so we can do it together, but it’s Friday. He’s been working all week and I want to surprise him. At least I can do a nice sauce, instead of our usual pesto from a jar. I am halfway through dicing the vegetables when there’s a wail from the bedroom. I don’t believe it.

  I burp her and she throws up all over me. It’s in my hair and I think about showering but I really don’t have time, so I just run my head under the tap and go back to the kitchen.

  Dustin will be home in about forty minutes, and though I wanted to have everything ready for him, now I just want him to be here. An order to the chaos, a light in the dusky dimness of our flat. Just then my phone, on silent as it almost always is these days for fear the slightest noise will disturb Zara, vibrates with a message. It’s Dustin.

  Is it ok if I go out for a few drinks with the boys tonight? Be back later, order a takeaway or something?

  I stare at the message, my stomach sinks.

  I’ve already started cooking dinner x

  Oh, shoot. ok, don’t worry. I’ll come home.

  Now I feel guilty. I start texting back.

  No, honestly it’s fine, go out. I’ll just leave the leftovers in the fridge for you. It’s only pasta.

  Ok Willow, love you.

  Love you too. So much.

  I can feel my bottom lip starting to quiver. Don’t be pathetic, Willow. I text Gee.

  You don’t fancy coming round this night? Keep me company? I’ll pay for your petrol.

>   She replies straight away.

  Sorry babe, I’m out with friends. See you soon, sorry it’s been a little while since I last came, I’ve just been busy. I’m missing Zara!

  I put the phone down. Turn off the hob, leaning against the worktop. Though I’ve longed for it all day, the silence in our flat suddenly feels deafening.

  Chapter 51

  Dustin

  Dear Miss Church,

  I’m delighted to say your offer has been accepted.

  I smile at my email as I type it. Good news to start a good morning. And things are good, honest. I’m not just saying that.

  Work is decent.

  Money is coming in.

  I’m getting more and more commission.

  I got myself noise-cancelling headphones, that I listen to on my walk on my way to work. Nice, upbeat, happy music, that I sometimes even find myself skipping along to.

  I am not crazy.

  I haven’t seen that guy since my chat with Georgia.

  I just had a little slip-up, a little moment, that’s all. But I will not let Willow destroy everything.

  Me and Zara are totally bossing this thing called life. Did I mention, the other day when I was bathing her, she reached her arms out to me and said, ‘Want Dada’? Well, man, that made me warm inside. That was important to me. She’s making progress, I tell you that. Yes she wants Dada, cause all she needs is Dada. And Dada won’t leave her like Mama did.

  All I need is her.

  I am totally fine, as long as I have her, and she has me.

  Everything’s fine.

  Honest.

  Chapter 52

  Willow

  Then – July 2019

  Popcorn, TV, Zara asleep. This is perfect. We have decided on making movie night a monthly thing, and this month I chose the David Bowie documentary, Bowie: The Man Who Changed the World.

  Dustin comes in, our duvet in his hands. He places it on the sofa, leaning forward and tucking it around me, so that warmth instantly hits my body. He smiles at me.