The Wife Before Me(20)
* * *
Amelia’s photographs seem to have multiplied. She knows this is her imagination; she can count, and does, often. How is she to establish her presence in Woodbine when everywhere she looks there is evidence of another woman?
The bedroom Nicholas has allocated to them is spacious and has that wonderful view of the Sugar Loaf. But allocated is the word she repeats to herself every time she walks past the locked door. Only Nicholas can enter this room; and that is what he does one evening on returning from work. She hears him walking across the floor, the thud of his shoes when he drops them. She knows, then, that he is lying on the bed, no doubt thinking of those sultry, breathless nights he once shared with Amelia.
Is that why he hits her when he comes downstairs and she demands to know what he was doing up there? The blow is so sudden that Elena staggers backwards before recovering her balance and lunging her fists at him. He takes the blows easily, smiling, as if her fury, simmering on a wave of nausea, amuses him.
‘Enough… enough.’ He holds her as she struggles against him and speaks steadily into her ear. ‘We’ve had our fun. Now, let it go. This jealousy is bad for our baby―’
‘How dare you call this “having fun.”’ She lowers her voice and goes limp in his arms. ‘If you dare to lift your hand to me again, I’m leaving you.’
He shakes his head, unmoved by her threat. ‘We made vows, Elena. I love you and I’m trying hard to make our relationship work. We’re going to have a child together. You don’t walk away from that commitment. You must stop talking about Amelia. All it does is stir up memories. Surely you can see the effect your insensitivity is having on me.’
She listens to his arguments, his pleas for understanding, sympathy, acceptance. His sincere apologies that sound so believable. She hugs her hurt to herself and watches his shoulders relax. Woodbine will be sold and as soon as they find a house they both love they can begin afresh.
Eight
Yvonne, who has her own key to Woodbine, never phones in advance when she decides to visit Elena. She always arrives with home-made bread and cakes, or Tupperware containers filled with Nicholas’s favourite dinners, which, she assures Elena, are no trouble to make. Her key to the front door was cut for her in the days following Amelia’s disappearance. Nicholas will never ask her to give it back.
‘We seldom have a chance for a girly conversation,’ she says one evening after she has arrived with a tray of lasagne. ‘You can heat this up and have it ready for Nicholas when he comes home from work. He loves my lasagne. I used to make it every Tuesday when he was a boy. No prizes for guessing which day of the week was his favourite one.’
Elena rises from the sofa, where she had been resting after a bout of vomiting, and tries not to retch as the cheesy smell wafts from the tray. ‘Yvonne, you’ll have to forgive me, I’m not feeling so well today. I was just about to take a nap.’
‘Poor Elena, you do look absolutely washed out.’ Yvonne pats Elena’s arm on her way to the fridge. ‘Nicholas says you’re finding things very difficult at the moment.’
‘What things?’
‘Oh, you know…’ She shrugs. ‘It’s those hormones, my dear. They play havoc with our moods, especially at this time. One of my friends was frightened of birds for the entire nine months. Said it was like living in that Hitchcock movie.’
‘Why has Nicholas been discussing our relationship with you?’
‘We’re very close, Elena. And you needn’t worry. I’d never dream of repeating anything he confides in me.’ Yvonne switches on the kettle and removes two mugs from hooks on the cupboard. ‘What was I saying? Ah yes, the moods… the moods. Remember Molly Blaine, you met her at my house. Big teeth, pudding-bowl haircut? Well, when she was expecting her daughter, she was convinced Susanna had a full set of teeth and was biting her. I mean, come on. Was that crazy or what?’
‘Yvonne, if you don’t mind, I was just about to lie down―’
‘You’re not having an easy pregnancy but you’ll forget all about it as soon as that babe is in your arms.’ She lifts a ceramic teapot patterned with wildflowers from a shelf and brews the tea. ‘Nicholas adores you, Elena. When the time is right, the two of you will move from here and into the house of your dreams. In the meantime, we want to enjoy this precious time with you.’ For an instant, Yvonne’s rigid features relax. ‘Bad feelings create unhealthy toxins and that can’t be good for my grandchild. You should practise yoga and do some meditation. Get rid of all that negativity.’
Elena bursts into tears as soon as Yvonne’s car disappears down the driveway. What is the matter with her? She has never felt so confused. Even when Zac left and the tiny foetus she carried so briefly slipped away from her, she had been able to cope. The shock of Isabelle’s death had left her bereft but she had not felt as vulnerable as she does now.
* * *
In the fifth month, when she is admitted to hospital suffering from dehydration, Nicholas insists they leave the house viewings until after the birth. His workload keeps increasing but Elena, cooped up in Woodbine, is confined to leaning over the toilet bowl, holding her hair back from her face with trembling hands.