One Small Mistake(58)

‘It worked out for the best,’ she said. ‘I’m with someone incredible now. I’d never have found Lucas if Simon hadn’t left.’

‘Does Lucas have kids?’ I asked, remembering she’d told Pushy Mum she didn’t want any children.

‘No, he doesn’t. I told him when we met I didn’t want any. After Simon took the girls, I realised that chapter in my life was closed. I never planned on being a mother; I was thrown into it. I was good at it. But the girls are gone and I don’t need to replace them with children of my own.’

‘And Lucas is okay with that?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled, happiness coming off her like a rosy glow from a fire on a cold night. ‘He told me I’m the only person in the world he can imagine having children with and if he can’t have them with me, he doesn’t want them with anyone.’

Words stuck to the roof of my mouth like seaside toffee because what can you say to the world’s most perfect response to telling your partner you don’t want children? Who doesn’t want to hear that they are more important to their partner than offspring which don’t yet exist? And the way Jennifer offered the information up, she wasn’t bragging or lying. I could feel she was telling the truth.

Sometimes it’s like I’m in a secret competition with my other married friends. A game of ‘Who has the Best, Most Envious Marriage?’ and everyone is either exaggerating or lying to win. Even I do it. Ruby does it. She’ll call me up late at night, crying that Tom has forgotten their anniversary again, then the next day, there will be a post on her feed exclaiming she’s so thankful for her perfect husband, tantrum and late-night call forgotten. What must it be like to be Jennifer, in a relationship with someone who you don’t need to lie for?

‘And you’re married?’ asked Jennifer.

I nodded. ‘Four years.’

‘Children?’

I drained the last of my champagne. It was only my second glass and I could feel the bubbles popping in my head. ‘Nope.’ I realised this was a little blunt and decided to reciprocate her willingness to share. ‘I had a false pregnancy three years ago. My husband – Ethan – was relieved I wasn’t pregnant. He wasn’t ready to be a father then.’

‘And he is now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you ready to be a mother?’

I paused. Then I said it out loud. ‘Absolutely fucking not.’

Out loud to a woman I’d known five minutes. And I felt a stone lighter. Truthfully, I don’t want children. Not anymore.

She raised one eyebrow but not in a snarky way. ‘Think you need another,’ she said, pouring me a third glass of champagne.

I laughed. ‘Think I do.’

‘Does Ethan know you’re not ready to be a parent?’

‘No. I say I want children because you’re meant to want them, aren’t you? If you don’t, who’s going to visit you in the care home when you’re old? I’m still taking the pill and he has no idea.’

Yes, little sister, it’s true. I am. After the false pregnancy, then trying and failing when he was ready, I realised I didn’t want children with him at all.

I waited for the judgement from Jennifer, the horror, the shock. It didn’t come. She just sipped her champagne and motioned for me to continue.

‘I know what you’re going to say,’ I told Jennifer. ‘You’re going to tell me to be honest with my husband, and that’s fair, but I’ve tried before, and if I tell him I’m taking precautions when he thinks I’m not, he’ll leave me, and I’ll be thirty-three and all alone. I know I should set him free but—’

‘Or do it for you,’ she interrupted. ‘Set yourself free. Being unhappy with your husband isn’t the happiest you’ll ever feel. Not if you take control of the situation.’

Jennifer’s words stayed with me all afternoon, whirling around my head even as I slid into the taxi with Mum to go home hours later. Being unhappy with my husband isn’t the happiest I’ll ever feel.

Mum was staying with me again because Dad had decided to go fishing, and she didn’t want to be alone. I offered her a tea when we got in, but she turned it down. I suppose I should’ve seen the problem then. When has Mum ever turned down tea? But I was so wrapped up in Ethan and the children we don’t have, I didn’t pay it the attention it deserved. It was only 7 p.m. when I told her I was going up to bed. I wanted to think. So, I left her. I left her all alone downstairs. And I went up to bed. With Ethan in his office, I snuck to my sock drawer and pulled out my contraceptive pill. My secret. I hadn’t even put it in my mouth when I heard the crash. Shoving the packet back in the drawer, I padded into the hallway. I didn’t hurry. I should’ve, but I had no idea what had happened. The large wooden clock in the dining room is always falling off the wall and making an almighty racket. But it wasn’t the clock, Ellie-Bee.

In the dining room, I saw blood. Saw her crumpled body on the floor. Then I started bleating, like she did when we walked into your house and realised something terrible had happened, ‘Mum! Mum! Mum!’





Chapter Twenty-Eight


31 Days Missing


Elodie Fray

I’m locked in the house. Jack has been gone for days and the key I have to the front door doesn’t work. I can’t get out. Can’t leave. At first, I’m confused, but soon, fury bubbles and blisters beneath the surface of me. Jack’s done this on purpose. He must’ve. He knows I want to go home, so he locked me in. I’m sure of it.