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‘Steph. How are you?’ Dr Bradshaw swivels around in his chair and gives me a warm smile. Around my age, with warm, crinkly eyes and a neatly trimmed, bang on trend beard, he is ridiculously good-looking for a psychiatrist – not at all what I had imagined when I first began seeing him. Not at all what Mark would have expected either, if he had ever managed to come along with me.
‘I’m OK, I suppose.’ Handsome or not, I am always nervous when I see him, anxious to make sure I say the right thing so he doesn’t decide to cart me off to the loony bin.
‘You missed your last two sessions – is there any reason for that?’ He picks up a smart, leather-bound book and a fountain pen, poised and ready to write down my answers. When I asked him once why he didn’t get with the times and use an iPad, he told me he preferred to do things the old-fashioned way, conscious that some of his patients might be put off by the modern technology. Another point in his favour for being so considerate. Handsome AND kind, I’m sure he’s made someone a wonderful husband.
‘Just busy. Henry has started school and I’m still working freelance so everything has been a bit hectic. No other reason.’
‘And what about the pregnancy? How’s that going?’
I purse my lips at him. I didn’t even know I was pregnant the last time I managed to make it to an appointment.
‘Mark told you, didn’t he? Whatever happened to patient confidentiality?’
‘Well, Steph, that works one way, I’m afraid. Mark is welcome to give me any information he thinks is relevant to our sessions, but you can be assured that anything that you say to me in here stays in here. I won’t discuss anything said here with anybody else.’
I sigh, reluctant to speak about it, but now Dr Bradshaw knows about it, I know he won’t let it lie.
‘I’m scared, OK? I’m scared that what happened after I had Henry will happen again.’ Tears spring to my eyes and I reach across his desk for the box of Kleenex that he keeps, just for these moments. Dr Bradshaw eyes me coolly from across the desk – tears mean nothing to him; he must see them all day long.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of, Steph. We know about it this time and we can deal with it. There is no need to spend this pregnancy in a state of fear. I’m here to help you, Mark’s here; we’re all ready to support you and make sure we treat the post-natal depression before it manages to get a hold of you, OK?’ I nod, shredding the tissue between my fingers.
‘Are you still writing in the diary?’ he asks, as he scribbles in his posh journal and I nod. ‘And how are you feeling in yourself? Are you worried about anything else, aside from the new baby?’
I take a deep breath, knowing the decision I make now could affect what happens next. It could affect whether Dr Bradshaw decides to prescribe more pills for me (no, thank you) or whether he lets me try to make sense of it all on my own, with his help, some cognitive behaviour therapy to talk it all out. I decide to bite the bullet. It’s just one event and, now I think about it, in the safety of the doctor’s office, it’s not even that much of a big deal.
‘Someone left something on the doorstep. Some flowers. I thought I knew who they were from, a new friend I’ve made.’ See, I want to say to him, I am trying, I’m trying so hard to be normal. ‘I asked her about them but she said she had never seen them before, that they definitely weren’t from her.’
‘And what do you think?’ He raises his eyebrows at me, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them in a typical therapist listening pose.
‘I don’t know,’ I stress, searching his eyes to see if I can tell what he is thinking. ‘I want them to just be a goodwill gesture from someone who is concerned about me. I don’t want to think there’s anything sinister about them but … it made me feel uneasy, that’s all. They were left on the porch while I was asleep. I don’t like the thought of someone creeping around outside the house while I’m there – why not knock on the door? But I’m sure it’s fine, probably a neighbour or something.’ As I speak I realise I sound paranoid, so I quickly backtrack, trying to convince the doctor (and myself, if I’m honest) that it really is no big deal. A bubble of anxiety rises in my chest and I swallow hard, trying to force it back down.
‘OK. Steph, we’ve been through this before, haven’t we? People know now that you are pregnant, correct? And Mark tells me you’ve been quite poorly with it – so, I think it probably is a case of someone having heard you’ve been a little under the weather and just wanting to give you a little boost, something to cheer you up. It’s easy to see things that aren’t there, especially when you’ve suffered with depression issues before and have battled through it.’ He gives me a sympathetic smile, and resumes his scratching in his notebook.
I nod, blinking back the last of my tears. I must be seeing things that aren’t there, if Dr Bradshaw thinks it’s innocent. I realise this is the reason I made my appointment – I wanted reassurance from someone who isn’t Mark that I’m not going crazy; that there is nothing in it, just a kind gesture from someone who would prefer to remain anonymous. I thank Dr Bradshaw, making a show of looking at my watch to say our time is up – usually his line, but today I’m taking advantage of it and getting out of here.
Ten minutes later I’m standing on the pavement outside the doctor’s office, wrapping my coat around me against the bitter chill of the wind. I have made another appointment in two weeks’ time, but I’m honestly not sure if I’ll keep it. I feel a lot better now I’ve had some reassurance that the posy is nothing to be scared of, and Dr Bradshaw seems to believe my assertions that I am OK dealing with things. I feel lighter than I have done in days. As I step off the kerb I hear someone shout.
‘Steph! Steph, wait!’
I turn, my hair whipping across my face, and see Laurence striding towards me, cheeks reddened by the cold.
‘I thought that was you! How are you?’ He stoops to kiss my cheek.
‘Laurence. I didn’t see you there – I’m very well, thank you. Just on my way home.’
‘Me too. Let me walk with you.’ He looks back over his shoulder towards the building I have just left, and I feel my cheeks flush red as I hope Laurence doesn’t realise where I have just come from. To my dismay he nods towards the building,
‘Have you just been in there?’ he asks. ‘Research, I’m guessing? From what I’ve heard he’s a right old quack. I’ll be interested to see what article you write on him.’ He gives a little laugh and grasps my elbow gently as we cross the road. It’s been a long time since Mark remembered to do anything as gentlemanly as that.
‘Erm, right, yes. Research. That’s it.’ I feel flustered, both by his words and the fact that his hand is burning right though my coat to my skin. As we reach the other side of the road and he pulls his hand away, I fancy I can still feel his touch, branded onto my elbow. We walk slowly together towards home, and I feel odd, as I did the first time I met him, like there’s something comforting and familiar about him. Like he knows me completely already, while I know nothing about him. I realise after a moment that he has been talking and I’ve not taken in a word he has said.
‘I’m sorry, what did you say? I was in a world of my own.’
‘I said, Mark has asked me to keep an eye on you and Henry while he’s away. That’s if it’s OK with you? My being next door and everything.’
He looks down at me, eyes searching my face and I feel yet another blush rise to my cheeks. What the hell is wrong with me? Without thinking, I prickle back at him, ‘I’m a grown woman, Laurence; I hardly think that anyone needs to keep an eye on me. I’ve managed on my own for years without Mark around, so I’m sure I can manage another three weeks or so.’
‘Right, OK. Well, the offer is there if you need anything.’
Immediately, I feel like a bitch for snapping at him, disappointed in myself for letting things slip, for giving in to the natural instinct to push people away. Mark obviously wants to make sure we’re OK while he’s not there, and Laurence has very kindly offered to help. It’s not his fault I feel so resentful towards Mark for leaving us so soon after promising me a fresh start, even though I know deep down that Mark doesn’t want to leave.
‘Listen, Laurence, I’m sorry. That came out all wrong. I’d be glad to have you keep an eye on us while Mark is away.’ The words come out before I can even think about stopping them. ‘Why don’t you come for dinner tonight? I can cook us something, nothing too fancy, and you can update me on all the scandal from the financial world.’ He gives a laugh, and tucks his arm into mine as we turn into our street.
‘Sounds perfect. I’ll be there.’
I am nervous before Laurence arrives, making sure the beef is turned right down low so it doesn’t burn and fussing with my hair, which has been flattened by the wind on our walk home. At eight p.m. sharp the doorbell rings, and smoothing my hair down for the fiftieth time I pull the door open, not expecting to see the person standing on the doorstep.
‘Lila! What are you doing here? Is everything OK?’ I stand in the doorway, instead of pulling the door wide open as I usually would.
‘Yes, everything’s fine. I just brought this over – I thought we could chill out together this evening, girls’ night in?’ She waves a DVD in my face, and makes as if to come in. I hold out a hand, resting it gently on her forearm.
‘Lila, wait. I’m sorry but … I can’t. Not tonight.’ Lila’s face falls, and I feel terribly guilty. She has been so good to me and I hate to let her down, but even so, we hadn’t made any arrangements.
‘Oh. That’s a shame.’ She gives me a small smile. ‘I just thought that … well, I thought maybe you might quite like some adult company while Mark’s away. But it’s fine, another time.’ I go to explain myself, to say it’s nothing personal, but before I can say anything, Laurence appears behind her. Lila turns, and seeing him behind her, gives a little nod. ‘Oh, I see,’ she says, in a flat voice. ‘You’ve already made plans. I’m sorry, Steph, I didn’t realise.’ Dejected, she turns to leave.
‘Lila, wait,’ I say, feeling like a total heel. ‘We’re just having dinner. Laurence is looking after us while Mark is away, that’s all. How about you join us? Or you and I could get together tomorrow evening?’ It’ll be the last thing I feel like tomorrow. After Laurence coming over this evening and two articles to write tomorrow the chances are I’ll be exhausted by the time tomorrow evening rolls around, but I hate seeing the disappointed look on her face.
‘Oh, no, don’t be silly, it’s fine. It was only a DVD and a bar of chocolate. But tomorrow, yes. That’ll be lovely.’ Lila turns on her heel and I watch her make her way back up the slippery, icy path, glittering with frost, before gently closing the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I wake up early the next morning, the previous evening with Laurence on my mind. I had forgotten how nice it was to spend an evening with someone who is mentally present, as well as physically. Mark always has to rush off to check work emails, or make phone calls, leaving me feeling as though our spending a quiet evening together is inconveniencing him, forcing him to take time out of his busy schedule. It didn’t feel like that with Laurence – he listened to me without comment, without making me feel as though I needed to weigh up every word before I spoke. I am always so conscious of what I say to Mark, wary of saying the wrong thing in case he thinks I’m sliding backwards to how it was before. There was none of that yesterday evening – I felt relaxed, not at all on edge. I forgot how nice it is just to be Steph, not Mark’s wife, or Henry’s mum, just me, spending the evening with someone who wanted to be there, who didn’t have a million other things he needed to be doing. I leave the house early, in the hope I can catch Lila before she goes out anywhere. I’m still not entirely sure what she actually does for a living. Despite us becoming so close over the past few weeks, every time I ask her she brushes me away, saying her job is terribly boring and often changing the subject. I’ve come to the conclusion that either she has a terribly rich family and has no need to work but is too embarrassed to tell me, or she really does have some rubbish boring job, like stuffing envelopes from home or something.
I ring her doorbell, even though it’s only eight a.m., and keep an eye on Henry as he whizzes backwards and forwards on his scooter across the garden paths. I am about to turn and walk away when suddenly the door is wrenched open and Lila appears in her dressing gown, hair tousled as if she has just got out of bed.
‘Oh, God, Lila, I’m sorry, I thought you would be up – did I wake you?’ I pull an apologetic face, feeling awful. There’s nothing I hate more than being woken up. She smiles at me, pale-faced, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body.
‘No, it’s all right. Are you OK?’
‘Yes, it’s just ... well, I just wanted to apologise about last night. I would have loved a girls’ night in but I had already invited Laurence for dinner and didn’t want to be rude. I didn’t realise you were home alone or I would have invited you too. How about lunch today?’ Sod the two articles, I think, I can write them tonight when Henry is in bed if I meet Lila for lunch.
‘Oh, don’t be silly, you funny thing.’ She smiles at me, a broad grin filled with perfect white teeth, at once much more her normal self, and pats my arm. ‘I just had horrendous PMT and thought we could indulge ourselves with a chocolate-filled girly night, but it’s fine. I came home and ate the chocolate myself!’ She gives a little chuckle and leans against the doorframe, her stance making it clear she’s not going to invite me in. Although she seems her normal chirpy self now, there is an air about her that’s a little off and I guess she is still a bit miffed about last night, even if she says she’s not. I give her a small smile back, before I say, ‘Well, good. I was worried I had offended you. Shall we meet for lunch? Or are you busy?’ I realise I really am worried that I have offended her – now that we seem to be getting along so well I’d hate to have upset her.
‘Gosh, no. It takes far more than that to offend me!’ She gives another tinkly laugh. ‘And I’m sure poor Laurence needed the company far more than I did. Listen, I don’t want to be rude but I must dash, I’m late as it is.’ Lila reaches to close the front door, still not responding to my invitation to lunch. I decide not to mention it again – maybe she is offended, despite protesting otherwise?
‘OK. Well, as long as we’re OK? I’ll let you get on. I need to get Henry to school.’ I move reluctantly from the doorstep and make my way down the path to where Henry is waiting impatiently, scuffing his feet backwards and forwards.
‘Oh, and Steph – how about one o’clock at the Hole in the Wall?’
I look back and grin, relieved that Lila is not cross with me after all.
‘Perfect.’
I drop Henry off and am threading my way through children and parents, out of the playground, when a hand lands on my arm and stops me.
‘You’re Steph Gordon, aren’t you? The new mum?’ A woman moves in front of me, blocking the path ahead, so that I have no option but to stop and speak to her. She is petite, with hair in a shiny, black bob and a full face of perfect make-up, despite the early hour. Straight away she makes me feel grungy and lazy, with my curls once again bundled up in a topknot and no make-up on.
‘Yes? Errr, I mean, yes, that’s me.’ I have no idea who she is, presumably the mother of one of the other children, hopefully a child that Henry has made friends with. She sticks a hand out for me to shake.
‘We haven’t been properly introduced. Jasmine Hale. Head of the PTA.’
‘Oh, right. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry, but I’m kind of on a deadline …’ I go to walk past her but she effectively blocks my way again.
‘The PTA are always on the lookout for new members, you know. I’m sure you would bring some marvellous qualities to our little group. The school needs all the support it can get.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t really think—’
‘We raise a lot of money for the school; it’s so nice for the children to have lovely equipment to play on, don’t you think? But of course, we all have to pull our weight and make sure we do our bit. You’ll be at our next meeting, a week on Wednesday, won’t you? We are in dire need of some new blood and I just know you’ll be perfect.’ She looks at me expectantly, waiting for a response.
‘Well, I’d love to, but the thing is … well, I work from home and my husband works away a lot. I’m not sure I would be able to commit—’
‘Oh, don’t be silly; everybody can spare an hour here and there. It’s not a huge commitment, and of course it benefits the children. All of the children.’
She is so bossy and confident I’ll do what she wants, completely ignoring the fact that I am desperately trying to turn her down. She’s like a dog with a bone. I try to take a bit of a firmer stance with her.
‘Jasmine, thank you for the invitation but I’m really not in a position to commit to anything right now. You know, Mark not being home and everything ...’ I trail off. She smiles at me, head on one side.
‘Oh, you poor thing. Yes, that must be terribly tough on you and … Henry, isn’t it? It must be especially hard for him, poor little boy, not having his daddy home every night. Well, I’m sure we can come up with something. It is so nice to see all the PTA children playing together, and they all become such good friends. Catch up later.’ She leans forward and kisses the air next to my cheek, sweeping off to join a gaggle of yummy mummies in the corner of the playground, all of whom have been watching our exchange with goggle-eyed interest. I watch as they close ranks around her, all except one, a slim woman with dark hair who stands a little way off to one side. She gives me a small smile and I smile uncertainly back, still unsure as to what actually just happened. Did Jasmine just insinuate that Henry doesn’t have any friends, and now that will be my fault as all the PTA children play together and my refusal to join means Henry won’t be included? Or am I just being paranoid? The gaggle of mums all turn simultaneously as I turn to leave the playground, Jasmine waving one gloved hand at me as I leave.
I am still unsure hours later when I walk into the Hole in the Wall to meet Lila. This is only Henry’s first year at school, so I am feeling my way a little bit when it comes to playground etiquette, especially when it comes to things like joining the PTA. Maybe I should have just said yes, if that’s what all the other mums do. Anxiety about being seen to fit in playing on my mind, I take a deep breath as I walk into the pub, casting my eyes about quickly to see if Lila has already arrived. She is sitting at the best table in the pub, a tiny booth in the far corner, near the roaring open fire, her coat hanging on the back of her chair and a glass of red wine in front of her. She smiles as she sees me and gets to her feet.
‘You look frozen, you poor darling. Here, take my seat, it’s closer to the fire.’ She gets up and kisses me on the cheek, then shuffles round to the other side of the table and I gratefully take her seat. It’s only a short walk to the pub, but outside the weather is still below freezing, an icy wind cutting through to my bones.
‘It’s much warmer in here – I’m so glad we could get together. And I’m sorry about yesterday evening.’ She waves my apology away as I pick up the menu and quickly glance over it before opting for my usual jacket potato – it’s all I can keep down at the moment. While we wait for our food to come, I tell Lila about my morning, and how Jasmine Hale had accosted me in the playground.
‘She sounds like a perfect horror.’ Lila laughs, as I come to the end of my story. ‘Don’t worry, Steph, Henry is a delightful little boy. He’ll make friends. It just takes a while at that age. She sounds like she’s just a bit enthusiastic, that’s all.’
I bask in the glow of her reassurance, relieved we seem to be back on track and that she hasn’t taken offence at my turning her down the previous evening. I realise Lila is talking to me, and I’ve missed what she’s saying.
‘I’m sorry, what was that? I was in my own little world for a moment.’
‘I said I was just like Henry as a little girl. Quite insular, not the most popular girl in the class. I was shy and really struggled to make friends, and my family wasn’t exactly the most … well, never mind. Look at me now – totally different.’ She takes a sip of her wine. ‘I have a lovely house, a gorgeous boyfriend and I’m having a glorious lunch with a good friend. Winning at life, don’t you think?’ She grins at me and chinks her glass against mine.
‘Speaking of which, how is Joe?’ Despite the close friendship we have developed, I am still yet to meet Joe. He’s rarely there, spending even less time at home than Mark if that’s possible, and when he is there, he seems to leave the house and return at odd times, meaning I haven’t quite managed to spot him yet. I’m guessing that Mark has met him, after Lila’s reference to her and Joe talking to him in the garden, but the man remains a mystery to me.
‘Oh, he’s fine.’ Lila waves her fork around airily. ‘Busy, busy. You know. He’s working hard, as usual. I told you he’s a photographer, right? He goes away on location for shoots, kind of like Mark. That’s why he’s not around much. You’ll meet him next time he’s back, I’ll make sure of it.’ Another thing we have in common, although I didn’t realise Joe was a photographer. The conversation moves on to our respective other halves and how easy it is to seem to go for days without seeing them, they are so busy. We finish lunch and I realise that, for the first time in a long time, I have enjoyed myself. I don’t feel sick; I’ve laughed until my stomach hurt at Lila and her witticisms; and it’s been lovely not to feel so anxious about everything, just for a brief time. It’s like how things used to be between me and Tessa, when she still lived close by, and I realise how much I’ve missed having a close girlfriend. We split the bill and Lila surprises me by telling me she is going to come with me to pick Henry up from school.
‘Are you sure? You don’t have to, you know.’
‘I’m coming.’ Lila’s voice is firm as she winds a colourful scarf around her neck. ‘I want to see Henry, and this afternoon has been so lovely, why shouldn’t we string it out a bit longer?’
‘Why not, indeed?’ Smiling, I link my arm though hers, and as she pushes her hair behind her ears I notice she is wearing a pair of beautiful tiny diamond studs.
‘Beautiful earrings; I have a pair just like them,’ I say, smiling at her as a faint blush rises to her cheeks. One thing I have noticed about my new friend is that she is not very good at accepting compliments, and blushes like a fiend every time she receives one. It’s sweet, really.
‘They were my mother’s,’ she says. ‘They’re the last thing she gave me before she died. Now, come on, let’s go and get Henry.’ Lila gives one of her tinkly laughs, and we stride out of the restaurant, down the hill towards the school.
Henry is delighted to see that Lila has come with me to fetch him and shows off on his scooter, doing little bunny hops and jumping on and off the kerb while she claps her hands in delight. He takes her over to meet his teacher, who seems utterly charmed by her, just like everybody else, and I can’t help but feel a little bit of pride that this shiny, beautiful, dazzling creature has chosen me – dowdy, permanently sick, tired me – to be her friend. As we leave through the front gate, I point out Jasmine Hale to Lila, discreetly of course, but Jasmine spots me and jogs over.
‘Steph – lovely to see you.’ She air kisses my cheeks on both sides. ‘Have you had any more thoughts about what we talked about this morning?’
‘Sorry, Jasmine, I haven’t had a chance. Let me wait until Mark gets home. I might be able to help then?’ I cross my fingers inside my coat pocket that I have said the right thing.