One Small Mistake(62)

For the first time, I wondered if Harriett had children. I’ve looked in through her front-room window before and her house is immaculate. If she does have children, they’re probably older. University age maybe.

‘And besides worrying about whether people think your life has meaning after you’re gone, are there any reasons you would have a child?’ she asked.

And I knew what I was about to say weren’t the right answers, but they were truthful. ‘To save my marriage. To make my parents happy.’

‘Is your marriage in turmoil?’

‘I wouldn’t know. Ethan and I never talk about our marriage. He works a lot. I’m lonely most of the time, even before Elodie’s disappearance. If I try to tell him how lonely I am, he acts as though I’m being dramatic, he tells me we spend plenty of time together, that we live together for god’s sake, that I’m just being needy.’ Admitting I am lonely out loud made me feel like crying.

‘Does Ethan want children?’

I don’t know how we ended up talking about me and Ethan when I was there to talk about you, but not answering her questions felt petulant, so I said, ‘Yes. The last conversation we had about it, I tried to tell him I wasn’t sure I wanted any, but he wouldn’t let me finish, he just insisted I did want them and even if I didn’t, once the baby was here I’d love it, and that was that.’

‘It’s okay if you don’t want children, Ada. Motherhood isn’t a preference for everyone.’

‘I wish Ethan and I could just have it out, but we never fight. He refuses to engage in any sort of conflict. At the first sniff of an argument, he removes himself from the situation. He suddenly has a lot of work on and spends a few days in the city before swooping back home with a mini-break booked, and if I try to start the conversation over, he tells me I’m ungrateful, that so many women would kill to have their husbands book a break away and I’m ruining it. Then for days, he gives me the silent treatment and the loneliness is worse. So, I’ve learned not to say anything.’

I know she’s supposed to remain neutral, but I could sense she felt sorry for me. I’m not used to that. I pour blood, sweat and tears into the glittering production of my marriage. This is the first time I’ve peeled back the curtain and revealed the sad, tragic truth behind the scenes. I’ve never been this honest, especially not with you, not with anyone.

Harriett leaned forward. ‘Putting aside the situation with your sister for just a moment, are you happy?’

‘No.’ I said it without thinking, but as soon as I did, I knew it was true. ‘I don’t think I am.’

‘And what do you think would make you happy?’

I pulled a face. That isn’t a question you get asked every day, but maybe it should be. ‘I’ve never thought about it before,’ I said honestly. I assumed ‘finding my sister alive and well’ was the obvious answer she wasn’t looking for. ‘I’d like to work again. Interior design or event planning, but Ethan likes me home. He said he never wanted a wife who works as much as him. But sometimes it’s like I’m drifting pointlessly from one day to the next, and even though I’m not sure I want my day to be filled with nappies and Peppa Pig, I’d like something that’s all mine.’

‘A career?’ she asked, which was a perfectly reasonable question, but the word ‘career’ threw me off.

‘Not exactly a career,’ I backtracked, ‘just a job.’

‘What do you think the difference is between a career and a job?’

I opened my mouth then closed it again, nervous to speak in case I got the answer wrong. ‘A career is more intense. It requires more skill than a job.’ I sighed. ‘I suppose I’ve never considered myself intelligent enough to have a career. Up until I met Ethan, I was just a PA. Elodie is the bright one. I didn’t go to university.’

Harriet scribbled another note. ‘You can be bright without having gone to university.’ She paused, letting that sink in. Then, out of the blue she asked, ‘Do you think you’d make a good mother?’

‘No.’ It was honest. I think I am too critical, too detached, too much of a perfectionist to be a good mother. Maybe you agree, Elodie. Maybe you don’t. How will I ever know if we don’t find you? ‘My sister would make a good parent. She’s always been more nurturing than me. Warmer. Grandad told me once if we’re different parts of the same flower, Elodie would be the petals and I’d be the thorns.’

Harriett was silent and thoughtful. ‘Are you afraid of failure?’

‘Isn’t everyone?’

‘If you don’t try, you’ll never succeed.’

‘But if you’re a bad mother, it’s not like you can return the child. It’s not a dress from Whistles.’

I could’ve sworn Harriett was suppressing a smile. ‘No, a child is not like a dress from Whistles.’

‘I’ll have to get over it, I suppose, because I don’t want to live the rest of my life feeling like I’ve let my parents down.’ I picked at imaginary threads on the hem of my silk shirt. ‘I did everything right. I got the husband, the house, the car, the fucking marble countertops in the kitchen. I got everything my parents told me I needed to be happy.’ Emotion throbbed in my chest and I felt on the brink of tears again. ‘What’s wrong with me? I should be happy. Ethan is a good man; why aren’t I happy?’