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‘Hello? I’m back,’ I say, as I fold my legs beneath me and get comfortable on the couch. Despite not managing to eat any lunch, I’m not hungry yet and decide not to eat until later. ‘What time do you think you’ll be back? I haven’t eaten – I can wait for you.’ I say this in the hope he’ll tell me he’s leaving soon.
‘No, no. Don’t wait. I think it’s going to be a very late one. That’s why I’m ringing; they’ve decided to pull the whole thing forward.’ Mark’s voice is low, barely above a whisper and I realise there must be other people nearby.
‘Pull the whole thing forward? What do you mean? You’re not supposed to be leaving for another two weeks!’ My voice is shrill, and I take a deep breath to try to calm myself. I should have known that the ‘fresh start’ wouldn’t last for long – Mark is a workaholic, the lure of the camera and all the excitement that goes with it pulling him away from Henry and me time and time again, no matter how many times I beg him not to go.
‘I’m sorry, Steph. I know I said a fresh start, and that I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t absolutely necessary. But it is necessary. I have to go, and the sooner we leave the sooner we come back.’ He carries on, making his excuses to me about how this is a once in a lifetime opportunity (it always is), and how if they leave now they’ll miss the worst of the rainy season, blah, blah, blah. Always the same old reasons.
‘So, when do you go?’ I ask, biting down hard on my tongue. He knows I’m upset – of course he does; you can’t spend six years with someone without knowing them inside and out, can you? I refuse to lose my temper, refuse to shout and beg him not to go. I used to. I used to get cross and shout and tell him he loved his job more than he loved me and Henry, but after the affair with Melissa Davenport I don’t feel like I can. That maybe the reason he did what he did was partly my fault – my fault for being a nagging old shrew.
‘Please don’t be upset, Steph,’ he says, his voice breaking a little, and I melt a tiny bit inside. ‘We leave in two days. I’m sorry, you have no idea how sorry, but this way we can be back in plenty of time for Christmas. I’m gutted that I have to leave so early. You know I didn’t want to leave you alone, but at least this way I won’t miss it. I’ll be there on Christmas morning when Henry wakes up.’
This does go some way towards softening the blow, as Mark knows I want him home for Christmas. Of the five Christmases that Henry has celebrated, Mark has missed all but two of them, and one of those was his first Christmas, when he was just two months old and didn’t really take part in any of the festivities at all. I reassure Mark that it’s all OK, that we will be fine without him, and when, with a sigh of relief in his voice, he asks if I have had a good day I decide not to mention lunch with Belinda, or the fact that she wants me to interview Melissa Davenport. If he is going to be leaving me, the last thing I want on his mind is her. He says goodbye and assures me he’ll be home as soon as he can, promising to take Henry and I out for dinner tomorrow night as it’s his last night before he leaves. I agree, and hang up, knowing in my heart that there’s little chance of his making it home before midnight tonight, and probably little chance of us seeing him properly at all before he leaves us again.
I am just making myself a bowl of scrambled eggs when there is a light tapping at the front door. Nervously pulling my dressing gown tightly around my middle, I go to answer it and am relieved when it is just Lila standing on the doorstep, bundled up like a snowman. The temperature has risen a couple of degrees since the arctic weather this afternoon, but it is still bitterly cold outside and the inky night sky is full of clouds, pregnant and heavy with the first snowfall of the season.
‘Lila! God, you must be freezing. Come in.’ I stand to one side of the front door to let her squeeze in, her bulky winter coat making her face seem like that of a petite china doll, peering out from underneath her fur hood.
‘It is freezing out there; there’s definitely snow on the way.’ She grins at me, pushing back her hood with one hand, her other hand clutching on to what appears to be a black sack filled with something oddly shaped.
‘How are you feeling now?’ Lila follows me through into the cosy living room, hanging her coat on the stair banister as she passes. I have lit the open fire that sits in the centre of the room, and Lila stands to warm her hands in front of it, the smell of coal and the pine cones I chucked onto the open flames filling the room.
‘Oh, better.’ I smile. I shed a few – OK, a lot – of tears after my phone call with Mark, the thought of the next few weeks alone almost too much to bear, what with finding work, although I know Belinda will help where she can, making sure Henry is settling in OK at school and, obviously, the seemingly never-ending rounds of morning sickness. That, and spending my evenings alone, in the dark, without Mark there. It doesn’t matter how many times he goes away; it never gets any easier. ‘It just sneaks up on me a bit at times. It turns out that morning sickness is not just confined to mornings.’ I don’t elaborate any further, not wanting to discuss Mark’s imminent departure or to delve into the deeper side of how I am feeling about this pregnancy, the nervousness I feel about what happens next, once the baby is born. How I don’t want a repeat of what happened when I had Henry.
‘Well, I’m pleased you’re feeling a bit better. I was a bit worried about you earlier, you looked so peaky,’ Lila says, leaning forward to squeeze both my hands. ‘I have a little something for you and Henry, something I hope you’re going to like.’ She reaches down by her feet to the large black sack I noticed her carrying earlier. ‘I made it myself, from the plants I have growing in my garden. Anything else that I didn’t have growing I went out and picked. It’s unique, made just for you and there’s not another one like it in the world.’ She is like a small child, her enthusiasm glowing across her face and her dark hair shining in the glow of the firelight. I can’t help it – her eagerness is infectious, and I lean forward, suddenly desperate to see what is in the sack. A broad grin sweeps across Lila’s face and I find myself mirroring it back to her as she slowly withdraws a hand-made Christmas wreath from the sack. It is exquisite, a perfectly woven circle of moss, holly, ivy and mistletoe, with a few winter flowers peeping out here and there to give it some extra colour. It is absolutely perfect. Tears spring to my eyes as I hold my hands out for it and Lila lays it gently in my palms.
‘Oh, Lila. It's gorgeous – and you made it all yourself? You are clever. It’s beautiful and Henry is going to be so pleased when he sees it.’ I turn it over in my hands, spotting more flowers tucked in underneath. It really is a work of art.
‘Oh, don’t be silly. It’s nothing, just a little something I knocked up.’ Lila smiles at me bashfully, a faint blush staining her cheeks.
‘It’s not nothing – it’s gorgeous. You should sell these; you could make a fortune.’
‘No. No, I don’t want to sell them. I just thought… well, I knew you weren’t feeling too great. It’s just a little something; call it a welcome-to-the-neighbourhood gift. This is the first one I’ve made this year.’ She leans over to tuck in a stray piece of wayward mistletoe. Her words make me smile, and the way she is so enthusiastic about things reminds me a little of Tessa.
‘Well, I’m touched, Lila. I really am. This is a really lovely gift; it’s so thoughtful of you.’ I lean forward, surprising myself as I give her a small peck on the cheek. Not a Steph thing to do at all, but maybe I am learning to open up to others; maybe I am making an effort to make new friends. I resolve to make sure I note this feeling in my diary later; the warm feeling that comes from a budding new friendship. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten what it felt like, to let someone new in, to start trusting again.
‘I just thought maybe you needed a bit of cheering up, that’s all,’ Lila says, sitting back on her heels where she is perched on the floor in front of the fire. ‘You looked really miserable when you came home earlier, and I thought maybe the morning sickness was getting to you a little bit.’ She is bashful, looking down at her hands, and I lean over and give one a quick squeeze.
‘I’m fine, honestly, but I do appreciate the sentiment. I was feeling a bit miserable earlier, you’re right, but you already left me something to cheer me up. I got your little posy and the note when Henry came home. It was a lovely thought, thank you.’
Lila cocks her head at me quizzically, as if I have said something that makes no sense to her whatsoever.
‘What do you mean, Steph? What posy?’
I laugh a little nervously, and stand to walk through into the kitchen where I have left the small posy of flowers in a vase on the windowsill, still tied together with raffia, the note tied to one side.
‘These.’ I put the posy down on the coffee table in front of where Lila sits. ‘They were on the doorstep when my mum brought Henry home from her house. The note says “a little something from my garden to cheer you up”. I just assumed it was from you as I had seen you in the garden when I came home.’ I look down at the innocent-looking flowers, laid in the small circle of water that has dripped from their stems, a cold shiver beginning to prickle at the base of my spine. Lila inspects the posy before she turns to me, a serious look crossing her perfect features.
‘Sorry, Steph. They’re not from me. I was out in the garden when you came home, collecting holly and ivy for the wreath I made you. I’ve never seen these flowers before in my life.’
CHAPTER SIX
The thought of the small posy of flowers weighs heavy on my mind all the next day, or rather the idea of someone who isn’t Lila leaving gifts on the porch while I was sleeping does. After reassuring Lila what felt like a hundred times that I was OK, that the idea of someone sneaking on to my porch while I was asleep and leaving a present for me did not creep me out in the slightest, she left, promising she would keep an eye out to see if anything else was left.
‘Honestly, Lila, it’s fine. I promise I’m not concerned about it in the slightest. It’s just odd, that’s all, that I saw you, then when I woke up the posy was on the doorstep and I just immediately assumed you had left it for me.’ I brush her concern away as best that I can, although inside my mind is racing, fearful that the one person I don’t want to find me has found me.
‘Well, I kind of wish I had now. At least then you wouldn’t need to be worried.’ Biting her lip, Lila tries to smile at me, as she stands on the doorstep to go home. ‘I’ll keep a look-out, OK? You don’t need to worry about anything, especially if Mark’s not here.’
Despite her reassurances, though, the posy sneaks into my mind on and off all day. Is it not just a little bit weird? That whoever left it didn’t sign their name? Could it be him? Is it Melissa, trying to freak me out? I scribble a quick note in my diary, just a few sentences documenting how I feel about it, how uneasy the idea of it has made me, in the hope that if I write it down it might get it out of my system a little bit.
Mark gets home before six, a hugely unexpected surprise despite his reassurances last night that he would be home in time for dinner. I am trying to wedge a huge black sack of rubbish into the outside bin when he parks alongside the kerb, giving the horn a little toot. I smile as he gets out of the car and immediately drops his bag on the pavement to help squash the black sack into the bin.
‘Thank you.’ I kiss him. ‘You’re my knight in shining armour.’
His brow creases and he looks apologetic.
‘You might think that now, but not for long. I booked us a table at that swanky pub on the other side of the Heath tonight as a surprise, but my sister can’t babysit now. Jacob’s got chickenpox. It was meant to be a surprise. I’m sorry, Steph. I wanted us to have a really nice last evening together to make up for my leaving early, but it looks like I’ve cocked it up again.’
He looks so disappointed. I reach for his hand to tell him it doesn’t matter when a voice calls, ‘Steph? How are you feeling?’ Lila appears from the other side of the hedge that shields one side of our front garden from the road. ‘Hello, Mark – nice to see you.’ She flashes a quick smile at him and leans over to peck me on the cheek.
‘I’m fine, feeling much better actually.’ I smile at her, and hope that she won’t mention the posy before I have a chance to speak to Mark myself. ‘Mark was just saying he’d booked us a meal out tonight, but the babysitter has cancelled. It’s his last night before he leaves for Paraguay,’ I explain.
‘Well, don’t miss out on an evening together for the sake of a babysitter! Why don’t I sit with Henry for you? It’ll only be for a few hours, won’t it? You two should spend your last evening together, go and have a good time. Honestly. I don’t mind.’
‘What about Henry?’ I ask, a frown creasing my brow. ‘I mean, I’m grateful for the offer, Lila, but Henry doesn’t know you that well. And he’ll want to see Mark.’ I know he wants to spend Mark’s last evening with him as well. He’s sensitive, and every time Mark goes away it disrupts his routine for days on end. It’s always much easier if we have all spent the last evening together.
‘We’ll stay home and put him to bed together like usual, then we can go out for dinner on our own, just the two of us.’ Mark snakes an arm around my waist and smiles at Lila. ‘Thank you, Lila, we really do appreciate the offer. Steph, don’t worry, Henry will be fine – we’ll make sure he’s settled before we leave. Come on, let Lila and I do this one thing for you.’
Lila nods at me, and that’s it. Settled.
Mark is so pleased with himself for arranging tonight; I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t really want to go. I know if I make excuses about not knowing Lila that well, or that I’m tired and would rather stay home, he’ll start thinking I’m slipping back into the way I was before, when everything was an effort, and it was easier to let the black clouds blanket me from the outside world. I make my way upstairs, feeling crappy about getting so irritated with him. He’s tried his hardest to sort out a lovely evening out, even booking a table and sorting the babysitting out with Lila – normally the things that I have to arrange – so why don’t I feel more grateful? Because he’s only done it because he’s leaving us for weeks at a time? Because he asked Lila, someone who Henry really doesn’t know that well, instead of just letting us have an evening at home? Because he cheated on me and broke my heart, and try as I might I just can’t seem to get over it? I sigh, mentally kicking myself for being such a bitch and stand for a long time under a hot shower, trying to wash away my blues.
Henry is settled, Lila arrives on time and so does our cab. Before I know it we are sitting opposite each other in a restaurant that tries to model itself as a homely, English pub, but instead of dishing up the more traditional plates of fish and chips or pie and mash, it serves everything on wooden boards or pieces of slate, chips balanced up like a greasy, dripping tower. I have resolved, while I was getting ready, not to mention the posy of flowers to Mark, worried he’ll think I’m being paranoid, but now, sitting here in the cosy pub, firelight glowing and filling the room with warm orange light, I decide I don’t want to keep it a secret from him. I don’t want him to leave for weeks with a secret between us, however small and insignificant it might end up being.
‘Mark … yesterday someone left something on the doorstep.’ I watch him carefully, to see how he reacts. I’m always conscious that he does have a tendency to think I jump to the wrong conclusion all the time, especially as he knows my history. He spears a forkful of salad before replying.
‘Something? Like what?’
‘Well, flowers. With a little note.’
‘That’s nice. Who were they from? They weren’t from me, I’m afraid, babe. You know flowers aren’t really my thing. I’d buy you something far more exciting than a bunch of flowers. Sorry, I’m starving.’ He shovels the forkful of food into his mouth and I have to turn my face away for just a second.
‘That’s the thing. I don’t know who they were from. I assumed they were from Lila, but she said she’d never seen them before in her life.’ His eyes meet mine across the table and he gently lays his fork down.
‘Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer?’ He takes my hand in his large, warm one. ‘Are you worried about it, Steph? Is that it?’
I sigh, and try to shake my head.
‘I don’t think so. Maybe. Why would someone leave them on the porch, when I was home asleep, instead of just knocking on the door? I just worry it might be somehow connected to what happened … you know … before.’ I suck in a deep breath and blink back tears as I tell him exactly what the note said. He fiddles with his wedding ring, twisting it slowly around his finger. He must have lost weight; it never used to move so easily on his hand.
‘Maybe they didn’t want to wake you. It just seems to me like someone genuinely being nice, that’s all. Steph, you worry too much. It’s not to do with Llewellyn Chance, I promise you. Whoever it was just wanted to cheer you up, that’s all. The sender might have even got the wrong door for all you know; they might have been meant for Lila. Please try not to worry.’ I drop his hand. Maybe they were meant for Lila, but something inside me says they were meant for me, and that’s not necessarily a good thing.
‘Maybe I am reading too much into it all. Maybe you’re right. I’m sorry; let’s not spoil your last night at home. Let’s order dessert.’ Not wanting to talk about it any further I pick up the dessert menu and study it carefully, until Mark gently pushes it down away from my face.
‘Do you want me to check? Make sure that he’s still inside?’ His eyes search my face and I shake my head gently.
‘No. No, it’s OK, they would have told me if he wasn’t. Please, Mark, let’s just leave it.’
‘Steph, you are still seeing Dr Bradshaw, aren’t you? You’ll keep seeing him while I’m gone?’
‘What? Yes, of course.’ My face flames and I dip forward, allowing my hair to fall over my face. I have cancelled my last two appointments with Dr Bradshaw behind Mark’s back. I don’t really need to see him, I’m sure I don’t. I am feeling much better and writing in the diary helps a lot.
‘Please make sure you keep going, Steph. It’s important, especially after last time. I don’t want us to have to go through it all again, and I know you don’t want to. I love you, Steph. I just want you to be OK.’
‘I said, yes, didn’t I?’ My tone is sharp and Mark seems to realise that it’s time to drop it. Mark calls Dr Bradshaw a counsellor, but we both know he’s not. We both know he’s a therapist, a head doctor, whatever you want to call him. We both know that Mark wants me to keep on seeing him because, even though I know he loves me, even though I know he regrets what he did, deep down Mark thinks I am still a teensy bit crazy. The mood changes after that and we decide not to bother with dessert. Arriving home earlier than planned, Mark tries to give Lila some money for babysitting, but she waves him away, laughing, saying it was her pleasure and that she doesn’t get out enough as it is. I smile weakly at her and use checking on Henry as an excuse to make my way upstairs, out of the way of their banter, too tired to pretend tonight.
As I tiptoe into Henry’s room and perch on the end of his bed, the nightlight casting a warm glow over his perfect features, he opens his eyes and smiles at me.
‘Hi, Mummy,’ he says, rolling over to face me.
‘Hey, baby.’ I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. ‘What are you doing awake? You should be asleep by now.’
‘I woke up and I couldn’t get back to sleep. Lila made me a hot chocolate and read me some stories. Next time she says she’s going to teach me how to play dominoes.’
‘Well, that was very kind of her. You need to go to sleep now, sweetie – it’s school in the morning.’ He makes a face as I pull him in tight for one last hug, inhaling the sleepy, biscuity scent of him. A noise in the doorway startles me and I turn to see Mark’s profile outlined in the shadowy hallway, so I stand and walk over to him, leaning my head on his broad chest. He wraps me in his strong arms and we gaze down at our finest achievement, our sweet, tiny boy, who gives a little sigh and slips easily back into sleep.
‘I’m sorry for bringing up Dr Bradshaw tonight, Steph. I know you’re still seeing him and I know you’re much better, I just can’t help worrying about you, that’s all.’ Mark says to me as we get into bed.
‘Honestly, Mark, you have nothing to worry about, I promise.’ I fluff my pillow behind me and change the subject. ‘Henry seems to have hit it off with Lila, that’s a good sign, right? Maybe it’ll be good for us when you’re not here, having Lila across the street. I won’t feel so isolated.’
‘Definitely. And I know we weren’t going to talk about it any more, Steph, but I really do think that your friendship with Lila is a sign that things are going to work out OK. The fact that you’re willing to let someone new in speaks volumes, after everything we’ve gone through together. After everything you’ve gone through. I’m proud of you.’ He kisses the top of my head, and although I want to ask him to elaborate, to tell me how everything is going to work out OK in the end, I relax into the kiss and murmur my agreement. I can sort of see what he’s getting at – after what happened before, then after Henry and the problems that I had, followed by Mark’s indiscretion (oh, it was so much more than an indiscretion, but how can I say any more than what I have done already?) I shut myself off completely from the rest of the world. I was so terrified that if I let someone new in that they would somehow end up hurting me that I just stopped doing it. I pushed away all the friends that I did have, and refused to make any new ones, cutting myself off from the outside world. The only one who stuck with me is Tessa, my oldest friend. The one who already knows everything that there is to know about me, who knows all about the darkness that surrounds me and refuses to budge no matter how hard I push. She was the one who was there to hold my hand and help me pick up the pieces when everything fell apart around me when I was fifteen. She was the one I went to when I couldn’t talk to my mum about what had happened. She was the one who held me as I cried, when I thought I would never ever feel normal again. So maybe Mark does have a point – maybe my friendship with Lila does show that I’m starting to open up again, that I’m ready to let people in, but the posy still plays on my mind. I decide to make an appointment with Dr. Bradshaw first thing tomorrow morning, just to keep Mark happy.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dr Bradshaw’s office is cold in both senses of the word. I sit in the reception area, avoiding eye contact with the other patients waiting for their turn to be seen. The heating is switched off, as is usual for this office, despite the fact that it’s December. It’s been snowing on and off for the last week, the first snowfall just having had time to turn to slush and ice before the arrival of the next deluge. I shiver slightly, pulling my thick cardigan tighter around my body, and give a small smile as the receptionist does the same, pulling the sleeves of her jumper down over her hands. The décor doesn’t help the chill either – walls painted with a pale, frosty light blue add to the chilly feel, and hard, plastic chairs mean no one sits comfortably while they wait. You would think for the amount of money Mark is paying there would be a little bit of luxury awarded.
‘Stephanie Gordon?’
I look up as the receptionist calls my name and gestures towards the closed door at the far end of the corridor.
‘Dr Bradshaw will see you now.’
I smile my thanks at her and start the walk down the brightly lit corridor, painted with the same chilly blue, my heart beginning to hammer nervously in my chest. I hate these appointments, constantly feeling as though each one is a test I must pass to be able to carry on with my life, even though Dr Bradshaw is always perfectly pleasant. I give a tiny tap on the door and push it open, making my way inside.