by Pamela Fudge
Least Said
Pamela Fudge
© Pamela Fudge 2016
Pamela Fudge has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published by Endeavour Press Ltd in 2016.
My world is the special place that it is because of the wonderful people who share it with me, be they family or friends, and this book is dedicated to every one of you with my love and thanks.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
‘Hurry up, William, Daddy’s waiting for us.’
Flicking an impatient glance over my shoulder I immediately crashed into someone I hadn’t noticed was walking towards me. Almost knocked off my feet, I was grateful for the pair of strong hands catching me by my shoulders to steady me. First impressions were that the man in front of me was very, very tall, and brawny with it.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said looking up into a pair of green eyes. ‘I should have been looking where I was going.’
‘No worries.’ The guy smiled down at me and - to my complete and utter horror - I realised I that I knew him. I was immediately transported back to a time and place best forgotten. At almost the same instant I felt his grip on my shoulders tighten and his gaze sharpen. Looking at me more closely, he said, ‘Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?’
‘No,’ I said quickly. Probably too quickly and too emphatically, I realised belatedly, seeing the suspicion dawn on his face. With an effort I laughed lightly, dismissively, and said in the firmest tone I could manage, ‘Oh, no, I’m quite sure we’ve never met.’
I glanced down pointedly at the hands still holding me and he released me instantly.
‘My mistake,’ he said, but to me he didn’t sound at all convinced.
I turned hurriedly away, spied my son, and rushed from the department store, sweeping Will along with me. As we went through the door I allowed myself just one quick glance back. The guy was standing stock still exactly where I had left him, staring after me and obviously trying to recall who I was and where he knew me from.
‘You’re hurting me, Mummy.’
Will’s plaintiff voice halted me in my head-long flight along the busy street, hell bent on putting as much distance as I could between me and the guy in the shop. I stopped, releasing at once the iron grip that was probably stopping the blood flow to his little fingers.
‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ I crouched down and brushed the dark fringe from his eyes. ‘I forgot your legs aren’t as long as mine.’
Will looked down at his six year old legs and then at mine - longer, thinner and clad in skinny jeans, and he laughed. ‘You’re funny,’ he told me.
‘I know.’ We grinned at each other and set off again hand in hand, more slowly this time.
‘Who was that man, Mummy?’ Will said suddenly, and it was all I could do to keep walking steadily and to keep the sharpness from my tone as I asked, ‘What man?’
‘The big tall one talking to you back there in the shop - he was like a giant, wasn’t he?’
I laughed, lightly, airily, and said, ‘He was, wasn’t he? I don’t know him at all, love. I bumped into him because I turned round to see where you were instead of paying attention. I was just saying sorry to him for not looking where I was going.’
‘Oh,’ he said, losing interest. ‘Are we going to McDonalds now?’
Will forgot about the man as quickly as that. I just wished with all of my heart that I could do the same. In fact, I was so back in the moment when my past had so suddenly and unexpectedly caught up with me that I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand on my arm.
I looked up into my husband’s familiar face and snapped, ‘Jesus, Jon, don’t do that. You frightened the life out of me.’
‘Not been shop-lifting again, have you?’ he joked and, unaffected by my sharp tone, he added with a grin, ’Come on, Wendy, you didn’t think I was a store detective, did you?’
‘Ha, ha,’ I managed, ‘you just made me jump, that’s all.’
Will was capering round his father’s legs in a state of high excitement, eager to remind him about his promise of a visit to the fast-food chain that was his favourite at the moment. I knew Jon would never break a promise, but I was equally keen to get far, far away from the city of Southampton, and put as much space as possible between me and a past I was desperate not to come face to face with again in a hurry.
‘It’s a bit early,’ I told Will, and watching his little face fall I continued quickly, ‘but what about an ice cream for now and then we can go to McDonalds when we get back to Brankstone.’
‘Oh, ok,’ he said, looking round immediately for an ice cream vendor.
‘Good thinking, Mummy,’ Jon applauded. ‘We’ll have far more chance of making it home without him falling asleep if we leave now, and therefore less of a tussle at bedtime after he’s had his meal.’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed, though thoughts of Will’s bedtime couldn’t have been further from my mind.
It was all that I could do on the way back to the car park not to keep glancing over my shoulder just in case we were being followed, and all I could do not to heave a massive sigh of relief once we were in the car and driving safely along the M27 heading for home – and safety.
It wasn’t until very much later - after the promised meal, Will’s bath and bedtime, followed by an evening with Jon in front of the TV and our own bedtime - that my traitorous mind went back to uncomfortable memories of that other time and place. Memories that I could have sworn had been long forgotten
*
I had to go back to the early years of mine and Jon’s marriage – to when things weren’t quite as comfortable between us. We’d been trying for some time to start a family but weren’t having any luck at all. Eventually, we both went for tests and that was when it came to light that Jon had a low sperm count. We were advised that this could make conception more difficult, though not impossible, and that there was also the option of IVF open to us to improve our chances.
It was as simple, or as complicated as that, except that Jon refused to discuss the matter any further, or even to acknowledge that the problem really was his low sperm count. Instead he turned the whole thing around and started blaming my weight for the fact that I wasn’t getting pregnant. As I was around a size fourteen at the time and hardly what could be classed as obese, the very idea was ludicrous. Yet I found myself accepting the blame – and even feeling bad about it – rather than distress Jon further over something he had no control over.
That was how things stood between us the weekend Jon was going to be away on a business course and, in his absence I was going to a wedding with my neighbour, boss and friend, Tina Reynolds. We’d already been shopping for outfits and, encouraged by Tina my choice had been in a stunning red, instead of the dismal black that Jon always insisted I wear ‘because it was slimming.’
When Jon left home on the Friday evening he forgot his phone – though he later came back for it. In the interim a text came through for him and, of course, I read it. “Kerry” was promising to give him a weekend to remember. From the message and the kiss at the end I immediately assumed he was having an affair with the boss’ daughter – a woman several dress sizes larger t
han me. The irony didn’t escape me.
I could say that tit-for-tat was the furthest thing from my mind at that point. I could say it, but I would absolutely have been lying through my teeth. I knew before I even set off for the wedding with Tina the next day that, if the opportunity presented itself, there was a fair chance I would be getting my own back on my cheating rat of a husband.
The wedding was ok as weddings go, but things livened up considerably when the rugby playing groom’s team mates turned up for the reception later. Tina shared her favours equally between the burly blokes but, while she was dancing with one and all, I found myself commandeered by one particular blond Adonis and I can’t deny that I found his very evident admiration of my curves a soothing balm to my wounded and sorely tested pride.
We both wore wedding rings, but took great care not to draw each other’s attention to them. It was obvious that whatever might happen that night was going to be a one off, and that suited me just fine – especially when a team mate alluded to the Adonis’ four children. I even remember thinking, a little drunkenly, that we would soon see whose fault it was that I wasn’t getting pregnant.
‘Anything you can do, Jon – bloody cheating – Hammond,’ I muttered under my breath as we crept away to the Adonis’ hotel room at the tail end of the evening, ‘I can do even better.’
We were all over each other from the minute the door closed behind us. He obviously knew how to give a girl a good time and I had every intention of taking full advantage of his evident experience. It was almost as if I had been taken over by a wild, free and confident woman; someone as unlike me as it was possible to get. I’d always been quite shy, almost prudish – lights out and under the covers – but, for one night only, every one of my inhibitions was cast aside and I was up for anything and everything. I’m quite sure I would have swung naked from the chandelier, if there had been one.
What happened between us was all the more exciting because not a word was spoken - no, not a single syllable was uttered by either of us throughout the longest, steamiest night of my life. We shared nothing but our bodies. In the morning, after one final session in the shower, we each went our separate ways without as much as a backward glance. I felt no guilt or regret – or at least that’s what I told myself – why should I? Why should I indeed when I knew that Jon would have been up to the very same thing on his ‘business weekend?’
Except that he hadn’t. It soon became clear that nothing was as it had seemed where Jon was concerned, especially the text. The ‘weekend to remember’ had been nothing more than a promise that the two of them would be definitely getting the better of several competitive colleagues during the course of what really was a working weekend.
Jon told me all of this. I’m sure his honesty was as a result of a heart to heart he had with Tina when, apparently, she told him a few harsh facts, including the fact that I thought he had been cheating on me. She must also have warned him that his cruelty in blaming my weight for our inability to conceive would probably drive me away in the end.
After those home truths he finally confessed his insecurity – terror, in fact – that I would leave him because he couldn’t give me the children we both wanted. He apologised for harping on about a weight problem that was only ever in his mind and assured me he would never, ever be unfaithful to me.
Kerry, he assured me, was no more than a friend and supportive work colleague who had as much to prove in the company as Jon, despite being the boss’ daughter. I’d met her since many times and she was so nice and so genuine that I felt totally ashamed of myself and my suspicions. It was obvious to me that she was no more to him that a good friend and work colleague.
Inside, I died a thousand deaths as the realisation of what I had done hit me. I felt so dirty and deeply, deeply ashamed, but I knew there was no way I could ease my conscience by confessing everything to Jon. I had no doubt in my mind that it would destroy him, and would certainly destroy us. How could he ever forgive me, when I could find no way to forgive myself?
No, I was going to have to get past this somehow, put it right behind me, pretend it had never happened, and get on with my life with Jon. I swore to myself that I would put everything I had into my marriage and, indeed, from that point on we were happier than we had ever been before. Even our love-making took on new meaning now that getting pregnant was no longer the be-all and end-all. If my brief affair had taught me anything it was that sex without love was pretty meaningless after all.
It took me a while to realise that I had missed a period and just what that might mean. Totally horrified I went to the one person I could confide in. The only other person who knew what had happened on the night of the wedding, apart from the Adonis who, it seemed, it was highly likely might have shared more than a bed with me that night.
It was late when I knocked on Tina’s door, but I knew she wouldn’t mind me disturbing her when she realised how upset I was. Besides being my neighbour and my boss, she was the best friend I had and I trusted her to advise me of the right thing to do about the situation I found myself in.
‘I know it’s late,’ I began, making an effort not to break down completely, though I was aware my eyes were full of unshed tears, and a shredded tissue was being further destroyed by hands that were shaking so much they were almost a blur. ‘I saw your lights were on, and Jon has gone out for his nightly motor-bike ride, so I thought...’
‘Come on in.’
I followed her into the kitchen, sniffing a little bit. I watched her make two cups of coffee and then, without beating about the bush, I announced baldly, ‘I’m pregnant,’ before dissolving into heartbroken tears.
To say she was completely taken aback and thoroughly confused was an understatement. Had mine been tears of happiness I knew she would have completely understood, but Tina could see I was far from planning to celebrate what should have been a joyful event for Jon and me.
‘I’m obviously missing something here,’ she told me, when my floods of tears had subsided into hiccoughing interspersed by the odd sob, ‘but I thought you wanted to be pregnant.’
‘I did. I do,’ I assured her looking, I knew, as if it were anything but the case, ‘but...’
She waited, but when I didn’t elaborate, she pressed me, ‘But - what? What’s wrong?’
‘Not now.’
I’d lost her totally, and she shook her head in confusion, asking, ‘What’s wrong with now, it’s as good a time as any, surely?’
‘Not now when it may not be Jon’s.’
She sat down, then, in a big hurry. ‘What?’ she said, then, ‘Who?’
‘The bloody rugby player, who seemed to be such a great idea at the time,’ I reminded her, and was certain the expression on my face would have been absolutely tragic.
Tina almost laughed as she pointed out, ‘But that practically only just happened.’
‘My period was due last week and it’s failed to show. I’m as regular as clockwork – never late, never early, always right on time every time – every time except this time.’
‘You’ve been sleeping with Jon regularly though, haven’t you? The chances are...’
‘I’ve told myself all of that a hundred times,’ I said, ‘but Jon has a low sperm count and the rugby player has four young children. Added to that he had the stamina of an ox, we were at it practically all night long. Who do you think is the more likely father?’
Despite my almost comic turn of phrase, I could see that Tina suddenly didn’t feel like laughing any more than I did. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘when you put it like that. How do you know about the children, though? Surely it wasn’t part of his chat-up line?’
I stared at her and sighed deeply, ‘You don’t get it, do you, Tina? You just don’t get it. I made it my business to find out and, when I did, I slept with him on purpose. I suppose it really did seem like a good idea at the time, especially when I thought Jon was doing the same thing, and blaming me for not getting pregnant into the bargain.’
‘So what are you going to do? It could still be Jon’s, you know. Stranger things have happened.’
‘You don’t really think so,’ I stated, suddenly calm, ‘and neither do I. There’s nothing else for it, I’ll just have to tell Jon the truth.’
Tina looked immediately aghast. ‘You can’t do that.’ Her voice sounded shrill to my own ears. ‘You can’t possibly be sure, and if you spill the beans now you’ll be ruining three lives, more if the rugby player’s wife gets to hear what he’s been up to. Doesn’t this baby deserve a father - a father like Jon? Do you want to bring him or her up on your own?’
‘You brought Leanne up on your own,’ I pointed out.
‘Only because, like you do now, I had confused ideas about right and wrong, if I could have my time over again I would do things very differently. Being a single mum is not an easy option, Wendy, believe me, because I know. Children deserve a father, especially a good one like Jon. He also deserves this chance. perhaps his only one, to be a father.’
‘Well, it’s difficult to argue with that.’
She could tell I was wavering and was quick to push any advantage she might have gained. ‘All I’m asking you to do,’ Tina assured me, ‘is to think very carefully about the course of action you choose to take right now, because the knock-on effect will continue for many more years to come.’
‘You know the sad thing is that, after our heart to heart Jon just told me he can live without children, but he can’t live without me,’ I told her sadly, adding, ‘and I feel exactly the same about him.’
Tina didn’t say anything. Normally, I knew she would always advocate for the truth, but in this case, though she might have felt that Jon would forgive me my one indiscretion she knew, as I did, that it would always be there between us. If I kept quiet, only I would have to live with it, and she obviously somehow felt that would be punishment enough for someone like me – and she was absolutely right.
