B01ESFW7JE

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘It is,’ said Carrie darkly.

  Jo looked at her sharply and opened her mouth to question her further but Carrie interrupted her.

  ‘Can I have that shower now, do you think?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Carrie threw her arms round Jo’s neck. ‘Thanks for making me feel so welcome.’

  This flat used to be an oasis of tranquillity, Jo mused with a warm glow as Carrie disappeared into the bathroom. But tranquillity, she decided, was so overrated.

  Chapter 28

  Carrie’s head was aching with the tumultuous events of the afternoon. This was all so different from her normal gentle routine of an hour spent in the garden amongst her flowers before turning her attentions to dinner. Her heart ached too: for Sarah and her poorly little son, and for Alex.

  Stay away from me, she had yelled at him before driving off. And he’d done exactly that, she thought ruefully. She stripped off and caught sight of herself in Jo’s bathroom mirror. Gone were the rolls of fat that had so sickened her back in January after Fréd’s funeral. She was curvaceous, probably always would be, but she couldn’t help feeling a flicker of pride at what she’d achieved.

  If only Alex had felt the same.

  Tears began to prick at her eyes and she cast her glance away from her reflection and turned the shower on full blast. She stepped into the cubicle, whacked the heat up as high as she could bear and tilted her face up to the shower head. As a distraction, it worked. For five minutes she was in too much discomfort to think about anything other than dodging the needle-like water jets. She lathered her hair with Jo’s Blondes Have More Fun shampoo, hoping the sentiment would rub off and emerged squeaky clean and an awful lot more fragrant.

  Jo certainly knew how to pamper herself, she thought, smoothing a generous dollop of coconut body butter on her legs.

  Feeling almost human again, Carrie wrapped a voluminous fluffy towel around her body, made a turban for her head with a smaller one and stared at the pile of her clothes on the bathroom floor. Jo wouldn’t thank her for putting those back on; perhaps she could borrow something.

  She opened the door to call for Jo and nearly had a heart attack. Two faces were looming right outside the bathroom.

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ she squealed.

  Jo, hands clasped together, was looking worried, and next to her, looking even more worried, was Alex.

  Carrie panicked and slammed the door, gasping for air. She gripped her towel round her and sat down with a thump on the loo. What was he doing here? She wasn’t ready to face him yet.

  ‘Sorry, Carrie, but he was very persuasive,’ Jo called through the door.

  ‘Darling, I was worried about you,’ Alex was saying. ‘Just driving off like that, especially when you’ve never driven on a motorway before.’

  ‘What? Is that true?’ Jo sounded amazed.

  It was true. Carrie had never been brave enough to use a motorway. Alex always drove if they went somewhere together and over the years it had become more and more of an issue until today when she’d decided that she couldn’t rely on Alex any more. For anything.

  ‘We need to talk, don’t you think?’ said her philandering husband.

  ‘Are you all right, Carrie?’ Jo again.

  Her insides fluttered; she was going to have to face him sometime and at least Jo was here to fight her corner if she needed her to. She slowly opened the door, wishing she was wearing something other than a towel.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

  Alex’s face sagged with relief. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’ve made up the spare room for you, Carrie, and left some clean clothes on the bed,’ murmured Jo, giving her a hug. ‘I’ll be in the living room if you want me.’

  ‘Wait there, Alex,’ said Carrie, pushing past him without meeting his eye. ‘Don’t move.’

  He threw his hands in the air and sighed as she shut herself into Jo’s spare bedroom and pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt.

  Two minutes later she opened the door and took a deep breath.

  ‘OK, you can come in,’ said Carrie. ‘Let’s talk.’

  She tentatively raised a hand to her head; she had taken off the towel-turban but hadn’t been able to find a comb. Her hair was sticking up in damp straggly clumps and she attempted to push it back off her face and tried not to think of that woman’s waterfall of shimmering hair.

  Alex entered the room and shut the door behind him. Her body was trembling and a pulse beat insistently in her ears and she was unsure of the protocol all of a sudden. They had been together for eleven years, married for ten, but now the atmosphere between them felt strange and different and charged with so many feelings that she didn’t know how to be around him any more.

  And judging by the way he simply stood there, gazing at her, a frown on his face, he was having the same problem too.

  Jo’s spare room was large enough for a double bed and a single wardrobe but there was very little floor space, most of which was being taken up by Alex. Carrie pressed herself up against the wardrobe, folded her arms and fought the urge to flee.

  ‘I have examined your extreme outburst at home from every possible angle,’ said Alex. He sank down on to the bed and rested his elbows on his knees. ‘But I haven’t got a clue what’s got into you.’

  Carrie gawped at him. ‘I catch you with another woman in that shop and I’m supposed to accept the end of our marriage without making a scene?’

  Alex blinked at her for a long moment and then his eyes lit up with understanding. He jumped up off the bed and pulled her gently towards him.

  ‘Oh, Carrie,’ he murmured, planting a soft kiss on her forehead, ‘I was on my own in town today.’

  The feel of his hands on her body was such an utter relief that she had to stop herself from stepping into his embrace. She inhaled the scent of him, so familiar and so intoxicating that it was almost too much to bear; cinnamon and citrus and warm man.

  ‘No, you weren’t,’ she said, heady with confusion. Had that only been today? It felt like ages ago. And her brain might have gone a bit hazy but he was definitely with someone. ‘I … I …’

  ‘I went shopping alone, I promise. It must have been the shop assistant you saw me with.’

  ‘Oh Lord.’ She pressed a hand to her forehead. ‘I need to sit down.’

  He guided her to the bed and sat down so close to her that she could feel the tiny hairs on his arms. Her chest was pounding and she concentrated on getting her breathing under control while she processed his words.

  If he had been on his own – and it hadn’t looked like that to her – but if he had, then why? Why wander round a boutique? An awful thought struck her: perhaps he was having a mid-life crisis and turning into one of those cross-dressers? For all she knew, he could be parading round in her underwear every time she left the house. She shot him a sideways glance. She couldn’t see it somehow; he wasn’t that type.

  Alex cleared his throat.

  ‘Were you …? When you saw me …?’ He shifted awkwardly and rubbed at an invisible mark on his trouser leg. ‘What I mean to say is, were you jealous?’

  Carrie stared at him incredulously until huge tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t see his features any longer.

  ‘Of course I was jealous,’ she said huskily. ‘I was devastated, but not surprised. I mean, who could blame you? You could have your pick of women.’

  Alex shook his head sadly.

  ‘Carrie, for the last couple of years, you’ve kept pushing me away. Whenever I compliment you or tell you I love you, you brush me off. And the last few months have been even worse. I thought …’ He paused and she couldn’t be sure but there might have been a tremble in his voice. ‘I thought you were fed up of me. I thought I was too old and boring for you.’

  Carrie gave a sharp, incredulous laugh and swiped away at her tears.

  ‘I was ashamed of my size and worried about embarrassing you. Everyone thinks it. You can see it on their faces. “What is he do
ing with her?” people think. Meeting Jo and Sarah has made me realize that I’ve wasted years of my life. I’ve just eaten my way through the days getting fatter and fatter and more and more miserable and …’ She met Alex’s gaze and left the tears to roll down her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I love you so much. I lost this weight mainly for myself, to be more healthy and confident, but also for you. I wanted to make you proud.’

  Alex cupped Carrie’s face with his hands and kissed her mouth. She felt her entire body light up as if he had flicked a switch and her heart swelled with desire and love for this man.

  ‘I love you exactly the way you are, darling, I always have. You are the kindest, most loving person I know. I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are. Your gentle smile, your sparkling eyes, I could look at you all day. It used to make me cross when you put yourself down all the time.’

  Carrie blushed, recognizing the self-defence mode she had adopted for the last ten years: to joke about her size before someone else did.

  ‘I don’t care what you weigh,’ he murmured, kissing her again. ‘You are still the same wonderful person I fell in love with when you were twenty-one.’

  Carrie managed a watery smile.

  ‘So why were you in that shop?’ she asked quietly.

  ‘I wanted to buy something for you.’ He laughed, wiping tears from her cheeks. ‘Seeing as you never let me come shopping with you.’

  ‘That’s not true.’ Carrie huffed indignantly.

  Alex raised an eyebrow and she flushed. Maybe he did have a valid point. Unpleasant recollections wafted through her mind of Saturday afternoons in changing rooms trying on too-tight clothes, refusing to come out and show Alex who was loitering patiently outside with the other husbands.

  ‘Any good?’ he’d ask benignly. ‘No,’ she’d mutter as she rammed hangers full of clothes on to the reject rail and made a hasty exit. Eventually she’d banned him from accompanying her in her humiliating attempt at shopping for big girls’ clothes. So, yes, it was true.

  ‘Oh.’ She looked back at Alex, feeling like a fool. ‘That was such a lovely thought. But how did you know what size I am? I’m not even sure myself any more. You know how much I hate shopping.’

  ‘Aha,’ said Alex, grinning with such pride she thought he might burst. He took his wallet from his back pocket and removed a small card. ‘I thought as much, so I Googled “personal shoppers” and I found that boutique in town. I’ve made you an appointment. I hope that’s OK?’ He peered at her, running a hand through his thick hair.

  ‘It’s a lovely idea. I’ve been such an idiot,’ said Carrie, mortified.

  All the poor man had tried to do was arrange a surprise, and in return she’d accused him of having an affair, pelted him with chocolates and forced him to drive across three counties to retrieve his runaway wife.

  Shyly, she slid her arms around his neck. Alex responded by turning his body towards her and taking her face in his hands. She closed her eyes, lifted her lips to his and—

  A sharp knock at the door had a rather crowbar-like effect on the pair of them.

  ‘You all right in there?’ yelled Jo.

  Carrie leapt up and opened the door.

  ‘We’re absolutely fine,’ she said, unable to keep the smile off her face.

  ‘Good. I’ll tick you off the to-do list, then,’ smirked Jo, flicking her eye over Alex, who’d turned a delicate shade of pink.

  Jo shut the door and Carrie grinned at Alex. ‘Now where were we?’

  Chapter 29

  By the time Sarah had reached the motorway, her wish list had changed beyond recognition and she spent the next forty-five minutes sending prayers to anyone she could think of from God to the tooth fairy: Please let my baby boy be OK.

  It was seven in the evening by the time she reached the hospital campus and the car park was barely half-full. She abandoned the car and fumbled with the keys as she tried to lock the door. Her palms were clammy, there was a trickle of sweat running down her spine and she had almost no recollection of her journey.

  She ran across the hospital grounds. Her brain was travelling faster than her feet, churning out accusations and apologies, regrets and recriminations, and she felt almost delirious with fear. How could she have disappeared off to Jo’s without sparing a thought for Zac? He had been under the weather during the night, warm when she’d left him this morning – all the signs were there, for goodness’ sake! She had to be the most selfish, self-absorbed, self-indulgent person on the planet. If he got through this – He will get through this – she would never leave his side again.

  She aimed for the main entrance, scanning all the signs for the children’s A and E department, the sound of Dave’s voice whispering ‘meningitis’ like a witch’s curse over and over in her head until the guilt threatened to undo her completely.

  Her face burning with anxiety and shame, she gave her details to the receptionist and asked where she could find the rest of her family. She followed the woman’s directions down the corridor to a bay, screened from the others by a long brown curtain. Her legs were shaking and her stomach was clenched so tight that she could hardly breathe. She tweaked the curtain back and nearly collapsed at the sight; her baby lay still and lifeless in a cot. Dave was slumped in a chair, leaning over it.

  He lifted his head as Sarah entered the cubicle and a look of relief passed over his exhausted features.

  In a fraction of a second, he was out of his seat. He scooped her up into his arms and squeezed her until she thought her ribs would crack. A shuddering sob vibrated through her.

  ‘Sarah, thank God. Where have you been?’

  Her chest felt tight; she couldn’t answer that now. None of that mattered. Instead, she eased herself out of his arms and bent over her son, covering his face with fairy-light kisses, so as not to wake him. Her heart clattered with fear and she gripped the sides of the cot.

  ‘How is he? Is he going to be all right?’

  Let me swap places with him. I’ll do it in a heartbeat. Just let him be OK.

  ‘I’m waiting for news.’ Dave put an arm round her shoulders.

  Zac’s breathing was rapid, but he was asleep. Even wearing only a nappy, he looked hot; his hair plastered with perspiration and one arm thrown up above his head. Apart from the small plaster on his arm, he looked exactly like he had that morning when she’d left home early, full of hope that today would be the day she got her partnership. She squeezed her eyes shut; all that seemed so trivial, so pointless now …

  She reached out and stroked his arm; it was clammy to the touch and there was a swathe of tiny purple spots across his stomach. Zac made little sucking noises in his sleep, he looked so peaceful that it was almost unimaginable that such a nasty virus could be rampaging through his bloodstream at this very moment.

  ‘What happened?’ Her mouth was so dry she could barely speak. She turned to look at Dave properly. His skin was grey, his lips were colourless and he seemed to have aged in just a few hours. He looked awful. And alone.

  He sank down into a chair and rubbed his face. ‘He’s been on Calpol all day to get his temperature down. He was warm even when he woke up this morning.’

  She nodded, but didn’t speak as a shudder of guilt rippled through her. She’d known that but instead of doing anything about it, she’d simply left the house.

  ‘He seemed a bit better this afternoon,’ Dave murmured, ‘but after we came back from the park, it was way up high again. Then I noticed that rash on his tummy so I took him straight to the doctor’s. The GP did the tumbler test against the spots and said he didn’t like the look of it.’

  Sarah felt her eyes burn with tears. After we came back from the park?

  Focus, Sarah, none of that matters. Only Zac.

  She was dying to pick her baby up, but she didn’t dare, as if by not being here when she was needed, she had somehow forfeited the right to be his mummy.

  Dave must have read her mind. ‘The docto
r said to leave him to sleep.’

  ‘You said suspected meningitis, when will we know? What are they doing for him?’

  ‘They’ve done tests; I don’t know how long the results will take.’

  There was a sudden scraping noise as the curtain swished back on its rail and a girl in a white coat appeared, scribbling notes on a clipboard. Dave jumped up and put his arm around Sarah’s waist. She pressed against him gratefully and held her breath.

  ‘Right. Hi, Mr and Mrs Hudson? Zac is a poorly little chap, but the good news is it’s only a virus and he’ll be fine in a few days.’

  Sarah clutched at Dave with relief. ‘It’s not meningitis?’

  The doctor gave them a brief weary smile and leaned into the cot, shaking her head. ‘It’s a bacterial virus from the same family, but nothing like as serious.’ She took Zac’s temperature and made a note of the reading.

  ‘Thank God.’ Sarah turned her face into Dave’s shirt and let the tears come. Dave’s shoulders were shaking too.

  ‘Your GP did the right thing,’ said the doctor briskly. ‘It’s not always easy to isolate the symptoms on babies. Take him home; give him plenty of fluids, Calpol, the usual. He might not have much appetite and he’ll be fractious for a few days. But he should be OK soon.’

  Another smile, a nod to sign off and she was gone.

  Sarah and Dave looked at each other. Her heart was still thundering and her legs felt like they could collapse any second. Zac was going to be OK. She wrapped her arms round Dave’s waist, grateful for his solid body against hers, not caring for the moment about Rebecca. Whatever happened next, they were Zac’s parents, they loved him and he needed them.

  For a full minute they stood tight within each other’s arms, just breathing, lost in their own private thoughts and gradually Sarah’s fear began to subside. Zac stirred and started to whimper.

  ‘He’s waking up.’ Sarah darted to the cot and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Hello, little boy.’

  Zac was still dozy with sleep and she lifted him up tenderly, holding him close and breathing in his baby smell.