Kitabı oku: «The Missing Husband», sayfa 2

Kelly was the first to leave the car park and although Jo started up the engine, she didn’t drive off straight away. She placed her mobile into its hands-free cradle and dialled into her voicemail. As she waited for David’s message to kick in, she flipped open the mirror on her sun visor and concentrated on flattening her fringe, which was all frizz and damp curls. She stopped what she was doing when she heard the tone of David’s voice: it was as foul as the weather.

‘So you’re still not speaking to me then?’ he asked before releasing a long sigh of surrender. ‘You’re so damn stubborn.’ There was another pause as he considered what to say next. ‘You want things your way and you want them now. Well, you may not believe me but I have been thinking about the future. In fact, I haven’t been able to think about anything else, and you’re in for one hell of a shock Jo, because I’ve been making plans.’

Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, really?’ she answered as if he was sitting next to her.

‘And before you say it: yes, really,’ David added. There was another pause and another sigh. ‘I’d better go into the seminar now but I’ll see you later. Assuming you want me to come home, that is.’

Jo’s response was as petulant as her husband’s. She stuck her tongue out at the phone, which had fallen silent. It didn’t make her feel any better and she frowned at her reflection in the mirror, not liking what she saw. David had accused her of being stubborn and in fairness she could offer no defence because it was her obstinacy that prevented her from phoning him straight back. She was always too quick to put up defences and impossibly slow to pull them down again, a replica of her mother, some said. In contrast, her dad was warm and compromising, traits that he had passed on to her sister. Not that Steph considered herself lucky; she complained that she had also inherited his sluggish metabolism.

Jo snapped shut the mirror and returned the sun visor to the upright position then tried to find a comfortable position behind the steering wheel which was getting perilously close to her expanding girth. She found the lever on the stem and adjusted the wheel a fraction to give her baby more room.

‘There you go, FB. Is that better?’

There was a strong flutter that could have been either a kick or a punch and she rubbed her stomach contentedly as she wondered what David had meant about making plans. His comment was meant to keep her guessing – he was intent on playing with her as much as she was playing with him – and it was working. Had he been working up ideas for decorating the nursery? Did he have a long list of baby names? Or maybe he was thinking further ahead, about what school their child would go to or how long they should wait before baby number two? Basically, she thought wryly, any acknowledgement at all that they were having a baby would be a good start. David’s stubborn refusal to discuss any of these things so far had gone way beyond playing mind games.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said to her baby as if he or she were wondering the same things too. ‘We’ll get through this. We just have to hold our nerve and get your dad so riled up that he’ll be desperate to do anything not just for me but for you too. So he’s making plans, is he? Well, I’ve heard that before and I’m not taking the bait. It’s time he stopped planning and started doing.’ That was, after all, what Jo had done by getting pregnant in the first place.

When she looked up, the windscreen had completely misted over and she found herself settling her vision on a spot just beyond the grey shroud, casting her mind towards the future. A shudder ran down her spine when she couldn’t quite place David there but the premonition was countered by another baby kick and she pushed the unwelcome thought to the back of her mind.

Switching the fan heater on to full blast, Jo waited for the grey veil to lift. She wished her obstinacy could be vanquished as easily but she had spent months being understanding and patient. David needed to know that the time had come for him to step up to the mark, so she refused to phone him back and instead drove off, secure in the knowledge that they had all the time in the world to make amends.

Back at her desk, time slowed down to a snail’s pace, and each laborious tap of the keyboard echoed off the walls of Jo’s office. Unsettled by the sound, she stopped what she was doing and tried to collect her thoughts. She turned her back on the glass partition that separated her from the main office to gaze out of the eighth floor window with its panoramic view of the Liverpool waterfront, but no matter which way she turned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the one on the outside looking in.

In reality there was only one person she felt disconnected from and she checked her phone again. It was one o’clock. David’s seminar would have broken up for lunch by this time and she willed him to phone. She was ready to speak to him now but she needed him to want it more. She reasoned that he was best placed to know when he had a free moment, so although her finger stroked the soft, supple buttons of her mobile, she refused to dial his number. Was he doing the same?

‘Here,’ Kelly said as she marched into the office giving Jo a start. ‘If Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, then …’ She dropped a packet of sandwiches and a carton of orange juice on to Jo’s desk. When she saw the way Jo grimaced, she added. ‘You need to eat something. You have to look after yourself, not to mention whoever’s in there.’

Jo put her phone face down on the desk before idly rubbing the rounded stomach which Kelly had just pointed at. ‘Sorry about letting you down for lunch.’

‘That’s all right; I’m trying to drop a dress size by Christmas anyway.’ Kelly put her hand on her hip and tried to pinch at the excess fat she imagined had wrapped itself around her body while she wasn’t looking.

‘You don’t need to lose weight,’ Jo protested.

‘Neither do you,’ Kelly answered. It was her turn to grimace. ‘You do know I didn’t mean to suggest you were fat before, don’t you?’

Smiling, Jo said, ‘Yes.’

‘So eat.’

‘I will,’ she said while playing with the corner of the plastic container without actually picking up the sandwich.

Kelly wasn’t convinced. ‘It’s still not too late to go out for lunch if you fancy a breath of fresh air.’

Jo glanced out the window and dared Kelly to follow her gaze. From this vantage point, they could see the riverfront where angry waves were being smashed against the promenade by gale force winds. ‘Not that much fresh air.’

‘Or maybe go somewhere for a break and a chat?’ The question was tentative. Even though Jo had taken her under her wing, she wouldn’t describe Kelly as a close friend. When they did talk, it was usually Jo offering advice or guidance and on the rare occasions when she had a problem to talk through, she would be the one to initiate the discussion just as she would be the one to figure out the way forward. Kelly’s inquiry was at best a prompt to see if Jo needed a sounding board. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right, Jo?’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘I’m in a weird mood, that’s all.’

‘It’ll be your hormones. When my sister was pregnant she blamed everything on them.’

‘So what was my excuse before I got pregnant?’ Jo asked but didn’t dare wait for an answer. ‘Now, have you drafted the Simon Harrison letter yet?’

‘Sorry, I’ve been digging out personnel files for Gary’s meeting this afternoon.’

It was Jo’s turn to follow Kelly’s gaze towards the open plan office where Gary was peering over his PA’s shoulder as she typed away furiously. He looked up and caught them watching him. When Jo scowled he lifted up his hands by way of an apology. As Head of HR, Gary was her immediate boss but he wasn’t beyond reproach for commandeering her assistant’s valuable time.

‘He’s known about that meeting for three weeks and he still leaves everything until the last minute,’ Jo said, still glaring at him. He winked; she smiled. All was forgiven. Gary might be disorganized but he was good at his job and with twenty years’ experience on her, he was a great mentor who would be the first to admit he could learn a thing or two from her organisational skills.

‘At least it’s Jeanette’s turn to be harassed now, so I can get on with the letter. I’ll have it finished by the time you’ve finished your lunch.’ Kelly raised an eyebrow, daring Jo to recognize the veiled threat.

‘Thanks, Kelly.’

Left to her own devices, Jo made a start on her sandwich but the bread lodged in her dry throat. She told herself she was being ridiculous. Someone had to be the bigger person; David had tried to make the first move so why couldn’t she?

‘You are such a child, Joanne Taylor,’ she told herself. ‘Stop sulking.’

She picked up her phone and dialled but the call was immediately put through to voicemail. Jo hung up, not sure what she should say. She couldn’t stop thinking about her husband’s mysterious plans and was desperate to know what they were. Her obstinacy was showing again but this time it was working in David’s favour – she wasn’t going to give up that easily. She had started to compose a text message when her mobile burst into life.

‘David?’

‘No, it’s Lauren,’ came a cheerful, almost lyrical voice.

Lauren was Jo’s favourite and only niece and, at fifteen years old, it was unlikely to be a social call. ‘What are you after?’ Jo demanded.

‘Who says I’m after anything?’

‘What are you after, Lauren?’

Lauren sighed heavily and Jo imagined her raising her eyes to the heavens. ‘I’ve been picked for the Christmas pantomime.’

‘And?’

‘I need to design and make my own costume.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Jo said dismissively.

‘Jo …’

‘What?’ Jo asked, tapping her keyboard loudly to let Lauren know she was busy and in no mood for playing games.

‘I was hoping my most favourite, most talented aunt in all the world would help me. Mum’s hopeless at that sort of thing,’ whined Lauren as the child within let herself be known. ‘Please, Jojo.’

‘I presume by help you mean that I do everything and you take the credit?’

‘Thank yoooooo!’ Lauren squealed.

Jo was laughing too much to point out she hadn’t agreed to help yet but they both knew she would. Lauren was right: Steph would be hopeless.

With the arrangements made and the call ended, Jo sat staring at her mobile. There was another matter that took precedence over any school production. She was going to take her time composing a text message to David and she was going to make every word count.

The message had been exceptionally long in its early drafts but by the time Jo was ready to press send, it was direct and to the point.

Sorry, hope you didn’t get too wet.

Will pick you up from Lime St if you want.

What plans?!!?

J x

Her finger hovered over the send button as she recalled lying in bed that morning listening to him leave. They were at loggerheads with each other but Jo had never lost sight of the one thing that still held true. She inserted a new line.

I do love you.

Rather than wait for an immediate response, which was unlikely given that David would be engrossed in his seminar again, Jo slipped her phone out of sight in her handbag. Even without knowing his reaction, the act of sending the text message alone gave Jo a sense of release and the impetus to focus fully on her work for the first time that day.

‘Ready to sign these?’ Kelly asked. She slipped into the office while Jo was poring over the draft minutes of a meeting she had attended the week before, and when Jo looked up, she was surprised to discover the office awash in artificial lighting. Outside, sullen clouds had drawn a steel grey curtain across the sky, bringing a premature end to the day.

‘What time is it?’

Handing over a folder, Kelly said, ‘It’s gone five. I was planning on leaving soon if that’s OK?’

‘Yes, of course. I should be going too,’ Jo said, opening the folder and skimming through the letter Kelly had prepared for Simon Harrison. She had already seen the draft and made a few corrections and the version in front of her was almost perfect except that there was a comma where there should have been a full stop. She glared at the offending punctuation mark and willed herself to let it go. She needed to leave soon so she would have time to call in at the supermarket on her way home to pick up ingredients for the special supper she was planning for David.

‘What have I missed?’ Kelly asked, picking up on Jo’s inner turmoil.

‘Full stop,’ Jo said regretfully, pointing out the error.

‘I’ll be two minutes.’

Jo pulled the folder out of Kelly’s reach. ‘Oh, no, I’m the one being picky. I’ll pull the file up and amend it myself. You go.’

Kelly feigned an objection but didn’t put up much of a fight. She had her coat on and was waving goodbye by the time Jo had sent the amended letter to the printer. It was a two-minute job and in no time at all Jo was pulling on her own coat. Only when all her work had been dispensed with for the day did she allow herself to check her phone. Her heart fluttered a little when she saw the message alert.

No need for a lift. Will make my own way.

Phone about to die so switching off.

D x

It was impossible to gauge from his pithy reply if his refusal to accept a lift was due to his own stubbornness – he could be guilty of that too – or because he was trying to make amends. She would also have felt better if he had said he loved her too but all of that didn’t matter: they were reaching a turning point; she could feel it.

3

The normally harsh street lighting along Beaumont Avenue had been muted by an undulating mist that was hopefully the last damp remnant of the day’s storm. The headlights of Jo’s car picked up a golden river of sodden autumn leaves that flowed along the tree-lined avenue, leaving no distinction between grass verge and pavement as she pulled into the drive.

Their house was a traditional 1930s semi with an imposing black-and-white facade and it had been a little worn at the edges when they had first moved in five years earlier. Cutting off the engine, Jo did her best to ignore the shadows that obscured its newly restored splendour and concentrated instead on the warmth borrowed from the subdued streetlamps and the turning leaves.

The autumnal hues had given a false sense of security and the biting wind took her breath away as Jo scurried from the car to the front door. The stained glass window had given up its rainbow colours for the softer reflections of orange and gold but Jo was more intent on getting inside the house than marvelling at the beauty of its external features.

The central heating was already on but it wasn’t until Jo had switched on every light on her way through to the kitchen that she felt at home. It drove David mad when she left so many lights blazing, especially when the fuel bills came in, but while Jo accepted they could perhaps be more efficient, it was a luxury she was willing to pay for. A house full of light and warmth felt like a welcoming embrace and she had absolutely no doubt David would be glad of it tonight.

The kitchen had once been long and narrow but they had knocked it through to the adjoining reception room to create a space that felt open and modern. The grey and turquoise colour scheme in the newly installed kitchen had been extended into the dining area where Jo dropped her handbag before setting about unpacking her shopping. She had almost two hours to prepare dinner and get ready. Plenty of time, she told herself. And then the phone rang.

‘Hi,’ Steph chirped. ‘Are you busy?’

Jo scanned the counter where she had just lined up all the ingredients for a steak and ale pie. ‘Sort of. I’m in the middle of cooking supper,’ she said, hoping her sister would take the hint.

‘Oh, well I won’t keep you then.’

Jo couldn’t ignore the disappointment in her sister’s voice so she propped the phone under her chin and set about preparing the meal. ‘It’s all right; I can multitask. What’s up?’

‘Nothing, I was only phoning for a chat. How are you feeling? Still tired?’

Jo had been surprised how exhausting being pregnant could be. She had presumed she would only start to feel tired once her bump had grown to mammoth proportions but she had felt completely drained even before she knew she was pregnant and she had been struggling to recover her energy levels ever since.

‘I thought I was getting over that particular hurdle but today has knocked the stuffing out of me. It didn’t help that David was up at five. If I’d known I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again then I could have avoided the argument and given him a lift.’

‘Have you two been winding each other up again?’ Steph asked. ‘There are better ways of adding spark to a relationship than arguing, you know.’

‘This was more of a quiet rumble actually.’

‘So you gave him the silent treatment,’ Steph surmised. She was three years older than Jo and had a lifetime of experience of her sister’s surliness. ‘You’re not a moody teenager any more, Jo. You’ve got some growing up to do before you’re ready to be a parent.’

‘I know,’ Jo said impatiently. She had said the same thing often enough to David.

‘I can’t believe you can troubleshoot for a living and yet be completely incapable of applying those same skills to your marriage.’

‘I know,’ Jo said again. Tears threatened, although they had more to do with the onion she was peeling than anything else. Jo was used to Steph pushing an issue to its limits; it was an annoying habit akin to picking at a scab that should be left to heal – although once in a while it proved good medicine, cathartic even. But today it felt more like picking a scab. The healing process had barely started. She tried to regain control of the conversation. ‘David’s on his way home from Leeds and I’m cooking him his favourite meal. I think we’re ready to sit down and start planning properly for the baby.’

‘At last! So you’re finally working together. Maybe you are both learning,’ Steph told her in a tone that ought to be reserved for the primary school children she taught but Jo couldn’t blame her sister for taking the moral high ground. She had been happily married for fifteen years to her first love and whilst she and Gerry had their disagreements, she never let the sun go down on an argument, unlike her sister. Jo had often said the key to Steph’s successful marriage was her ability to wear anyone into submission but in truth, she was as considerate as she was persistent.

‘So is it only my welfare you were concerned about or is there something else I can help you with?’ Jo said, eager to draw the conversation to a close. She could see her reflection in the glossy kitchen unit and her hair was sticking up at all angles. There was still so much to do.

‘No, nothing.’

‘Fair enough. You can rest assured that I’m fine and dandy. Now, could you please leave me in peace so I can get on with my cooking,’ Jo said, then casually added, ‘I expect you’ve got a lot to do too. Wicked Stepmother costumes don’t make themselves, you know.’

There was stony silence at the other end of the phone and then, ‘Bloody teenagers. So I suppose you already know what my next question will be.’

Jo tried not to let her smile reveal itself in her voice. ‘Not really. I can’t imagine what you would be asking of your little sister who’s been complaining of exhaustion.’

‘But you’ve just said you were fine and dandy!’

Jo yawned.

‘Don’t do that, you’ll get me started,’ Steph said immediately stifling a yawn. ‘You will help, won’t you?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘But only if it’s not too much for you and of course I’ll do what I can to help.’

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Not that I can do much – you’re the creative one – but I can sew on buttons, cut things out, that kind of thing. And I’ll do all the running around …’

‘Stephany,’ Jo interjected, ‘I said I’ll do it.’

‘Thanks, Jo. And in return I’ll give David a ring to tell him he had better start fussing over his wife and the future mother of his children or he’ll have me to answer to.’

‘Erm, I don’t think so. I can manage my own affairs, thank you very much! I’ll come over at the weekend and we can start planning the costume but for now, will you please let me go?’

With the call ended, Jo tried to concentrate on the pie she was making, but a frown furrowed her brow as the conversation with her sister played over in her mind. Jo was the first to volunteer her services for most things, to the point that it was almost expected of her, and she genuinely didn’t mind. She rarely felt put upon so her refusal to drive David to the station had come as a surprise to both of them. But it wasn’t the lift that had got to her; it was the principle. Steph was right, all Jo really wanted was for David to fuss over her. Of course she couldn’t tell him that because she had been the one who had elected to become pregnant, not him, but that didn’t stop her wanting to be cosseted like any other pregnant wife.

Jo looked at the neat piles of perfectly cubed vegetables she was still in the process of preparing and then at the illuminated clock on the microwave. She worked out that if she left now there was just enough time to collect him from Lime Street Station, but before she could give into the impulse, she visualised David walking into the house where the welcoming aromas of crisp, golden pie crust would give him his first embrace, quickly followed by another from his adoring wife. The hug would be all the more appreciated after a long walk on a cold, dark and miserable night. Her mind was settled.