‘I want us to have a baby.’
For a moment it was as though everything froze, suspended in that moment where nothing moved and nobody spoke. A bird hung in mid-air, trees paused their swaying, branches bowed, splinters of wood skittering on the current halted their journey, and my breathing slowed… And then a shaft of sunlight split open the bank of cloud that smothered us and shot its beam across the murk of the water and broke the spell.
‘A baby? Are you serious?’ I felt dizzy, breathless.
He met my gaze. ‘Deadly.’
I couldn’t speak. This was so out of the blue, and so at odds with where I was right now that I didn’t even know how to process it, let alone give him an answer.
‘But…’ I stammered. ‘I thought we’d agreed we didn’t want children?’
‘We did, once. But’ – he sighed – ‘that was then. We’re in our late thirties now and this could be the only chance we get. Plus I think… I think it could be good for us. It could help us, mend us. It – it feels like the right time. Don’t you think?’
The doubt in his voice was clear, but I was still reeling from the shock.
‘How can this be the right time?’ I said, my voice low.
He leaned forward and the boat rocked beneath me. A gust of wind blew us off course and I shivered. ‘I know I’ve messed things up, Erin. I know I have. But you must remember how much we love each other. How important we are to each other. I can’t lose that. Not because of one mistake.’
One mistake. If only you knew.
‘But how is having a baby the answer?’
He dropped his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He looked at me again. ‘There was something else I wanted to say too.’
‘Go on.’
‘I think we should renew our wedding vows.’
I felt muddled, as though the world was spinning out of control, and I lowered my head between my knees.
‘Erin? Are you okay?’
I nodded, but stayed where I was, trying to process Greg’s suggestion. He wanted us to renew our wedding vows and have a baby. Meanwhile, I was worrying about whether I was in love with a man I hadn’t seen for eighteen years, and angry at my husband for almost losing our house. We really couldn’t be any further apart.
I raised my head. Greg was looking out across the water, and I studied him for a few seconds, his handsome face, the faint lines radiating out from his eyes. He’d hardly aged since the day we met, and the truth was, apart from the gambling problem, he’d barely changed either. He was still the kind, funny man he’d always been, with a heart of gold and a great memory for one-liners.
He turned to face me and the sorrow on his face was almost more than I could bear. How hard would it be for me to agree to renew our vows, and promise to think about having a baby? Surely it was the best thing for both of us, to put everything else behind us and look to the future.
And yet.
‘I don’t think I ever do want children, Greg,’ I said gently.
‘Oh.’ His voice was heavy with pain. ‘But…’ He paused, his voice carrying a hint of hope. ‘You will think about the vows? I just think – I think it will be good for us.’
And so, despite myself, despite every nerve ending screaming at me to say no, that it wasn’t a good time, that I had too much to sort through in my own mind first, I found myself reaching for his hands and nodding. ‘I promise to think about it.’
A hot bath and a glass of wine revived me when we got back from the lake. Both of us were frozen to the core, and sadly the warm feelings we’d rediscovered had evaporated following Greg’s announcement, only cooling further on the drive home. Greg had gone to put a leg of lamb in the oven for dinner and the smell of rosemary and thyme drifted up the stairs as I came out of our en suite wrapped in a fluffy towel. I was determined to put the tension of this morning behind us and move on, to try to make things work between us, whatever it took. Because Greg was right, we couldn’t lose everything we’d built over the last eighteen years.
I studied the carefully curated prints that hung from our bedroom walls, depicting bands Greg and I loved, places we’d visited together – the Golden Gate Bridge, the towering majesty of the Taj Mahal; the jewels colours that sprang from the walls that we’d deliberately chosen to rebel against the ever-rising tide of grey. The cushion cover from a trip to Thailand discarded on the carpet, the ancient well-loved bedspread we’d been given as a wedding present, still rumpled with the imprint of Greg’s body… All these memories clamoured for attention, as if trying to convince me that what we had – what wehave– was worth saving.
I sat down and rubbed a towel over my hair, droplets scattering across my shoulders, across the dressing table…
I froze. There, nestled among the bottles of hair serum and perfume and the bowl of earrings, was the crotchet necklace that Adam had bought me. My fingers fluttered to my throat. I must have taken it off. But it wasn’t the fact that it was there that was bothering me. There was something else. Rather than being thrown down carelessly on the dressing table, the necklace was folded neatly on top of a small piece of paper. The note that Adam had given me.
I thought I’d thrown the note away. But now here it was, like a siren of my betrayal.
My heart thumped and I gripped the edge of the stool.
