The Dead Wife's Handbook (20 page)

Max tickles Ellie under her arms and she laughs at what is always her favourite part of the story.

‘Do you know how long Mummy and I were in the hospital before you started to come out?’

Ellie knows this already, but that’s not going to stop her playing the game.

‘How long?’

‘Forty hours. That’s nearly two whole days. Mummy was very, very tired. But then finally the midwife said that you were almost ready to make your grand entrance and she told Mummy that every time she felt a big pain in her tummy she had to push really, really hard. So Mummy kept pushing for nearly two hours and then all of a sudden I could see the top of your head.’

‘What did I look like, Daddy? Was I ever so small?’

‘Well, at that stage you were still mostly in Mummy’s tummy, but then she pushed a few more times and then suddenly there you were. It was like a miracle. The midwife put you straight on to Mummy’s chest and you gave out your first big cry and it was the most amazing sound I’d ever heard. And, yes, my angel, you were tiny. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a tiny person in my whole life. As you lay in Mummy’s arms I stroked your head and held your tiny fingers in mine and we marvelled that something so small could be so perfect. It was and always will be the most wonderful moment in my life, ever.’

Max kisses the top of Ellie’s head. I remember every second of it – all one hundred and fifty-odd thousand of them – as if it were happening right now. I remember hour after interminable hour of midwives matter-of-factly informing me that I wasn’t yet far enough dilated and my incomprehension that I could be in this much pain and yet still so far from the end. I remember examination after examination culminating in the same apologetic news that still I wasn’t ready to start pushing
and the feeling, heightened by pain and fear and anxiety, that I must be the world’s worst childbearer. I remember the relief when I was finally told that I was ready, that we were entering the final stage, that this was the beginning of the end when the real work started and feeling so bone-shatteringly exhausted that I couldn’t believe I had an ounce of energy left to give. I remember those final ninety minutes and my incredulity that the human body could withstand such violence, repeating to myself, over and over again, like a lifesaving mantra for both of us, that millennia of women had managed this since time immemorial and there was no reason I should be any different. And then, finally, she was there, naked in my arms, her mucus-coated skin bare against my chest and I knew that our lives would never be the same again.

People often say that the only way women are capable of having more than one baby is by eradicating the experience of childbirth from memory, that only by entering into a form of self-denial can anyone tolerate giving birth more than once. But I remember it all, every last detail, and I’d do it all again, in a flash, without a moment’s hesitation, to have Ellie at the end of it.

‘And shall I tell you something else, munchkin? Before you were born, I thought I loved Mummy as much as it was possible to love anyone. But watching her give birth to you, seeing how brave she was, being by her side while she was working so hard for all those hours to help you come out, I loved her more than ever. I was so, so proud of her.’

I look at my little girl nestled in my husband’s arms and I yearn to be able to turn back the clock, to be with Max
and Ellie in that delivery suite, the three of us embracing one another for the very first time, hearing him say those words to me and feeling that elemental compulsion of wanting, above all else, to protect this new family from every imaginable harm.

‘And do you know the first thing that Mummy said after you were born?’

Ellie shakes her head. This is a new end to the story, one she hasn’t heard before. It’s Max’s ending, not mine.

‘I thought she was going to tell me how tired she was or how hungry because she hadn’t eaten anything for hours by then. But she held you in her arms, and I held her in mine, and she looked into my eyes, her face beaming, and said, “Now our family is complete.” And she was right. It was. And that was all down to you, sweetheart.’

Ellie is quiet now, allowing herself the space to absorb this new epilogue to an otherwise familiar story.

‘That’s how I know just how much Mummy loved you, angel. Because I saw her face when you were born, and I’d never seen anyone so happy in my whole life before. And I know it’s really, really unfair that you only had Mummy with you for such a short time, but she loved you as much in those six years as it’s ever possible for anyone to be loved.’

Ellie emits a muffled sob as Max tightens his arms around her vulnerable shoulders.

I’m not sure I could be any more grateful to Max right now. All the frustration and the resentment and the sense of betrayal about last night have evaporated and I feel guilty for doubting him, for being so angry with him, for thinking, even for a second, even in the heat of the moment,
that he wouldn’t do his best for Ellie. He’s Max. He’ll always do his best for her.

‘I know how hard this is for you, Ellie. But you’re doing really, really well, sweetheart, and I’m so, so proud of you. And I’m going to use all my special daddy powers to make sure you’re okay. Because you’re the most important thing in the world to me – my special girl – you know that, don’t you?’

Max rests his head on top of Ellie’s, his fingers gently stroking her forehead.

‘So, munchkin, about last night. I don’t want you to worry about what happened. It’s just an accident and no one’s to blame for an accident. But will you promise me that if anything like that happens again, wherever you are, whether at home or here or Nanna’s, you’ll let someone know straight away?’

Ellie nods her head as she lets Max wipe away the last of her tears.

‘There’s one more promise I need from you, sweetheart. Whenever you’re sad about Mummy, will you come and tell me? And if I’m not around, and there’s no one else you want to talk to about her, will you promise me that you’ll close your eyes and picture you and Mummy in that photograph, and remember just how much she loved you?’

Ellie smiles, sniffing away her grief and raising her head to look at Max with a maturity far beyond her years.

‘Okay, Daddy. I promise.’

‘Good girl. Now, why don’t you go and wash your face and get your things together and I’ll see you downstairs. I think we deserve a Sunday afternoon on the sofa with a
duvet, a movie and possibly even one of my special ice cream sundaes. What do you think?’

Ellie grins and bounces off the bed towards the bathroom.

Max makes his way downstairs and back to the scene of the earlier argument, where Joan is in the process of laying out frozen Yorkshire puddings on a baking tray.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. You were right. It wasn’t nothing and I shouldn’t have flown off the handle at you. But I’ve had a good chat with her and I think she’ll be fine now.’

‘Good, I’m glad. You know I don’t like it when we have words. Now, are you sure you don’t want to stay for lunch? There’s plenty here.’

‘Thanks, but not today. I think Ellie and I need some time alone and, anyway, I’ve promised her an afternoon of ice cream and movies now.’

‘Right you are. But I haven’t had a chance to ask – did you have a nice time last night? You look as though you didn’t get much sleep.’

Max blushes and I feel the jealousy beginning to creep back in.

‘Yeah, it was a really good night, thanks. Lots of fun.’

‘So was it the same young lady you’ve seen before? Or a new one altogether?’

‘You make it sound like I’ve got a whole harem of women at my disposal. Yes, it was the same one I’ve seen a few times lately. Her name’s Eve. I think you’d like her.’

Please stop there, Max. We don’t need your mum to like her. We don’t need your mum even to be thinking about her just yet. It’s still early days, remember?

‘Eve. What a pretty name. And what does she do?’

‘She’s a head teacher, in a state school up in Finsbury Park. She’s pretty impressive, actually.’

I hear the tone of faux-nonchalance in his voice and can tell he’s trying to minimize the pride in his words, but it’s too potent for him to conceal it entirely.

A toxic air of rivalry blows in my direction again, not just the emotional rivalry and the sexual jealousy, but the professional envy too; the inescapable feeling that Eve’s precocious success eclipses my own achievements and the painful awareness that I’ll now never have the chance to accomplish all that I hoped.

‘A teacher? So you two must have a lot in common? She sounds perfect, Max. When might we get to meet her? Why don’t you bring her over for dinner one night?’

A meet-the-parents dinner already? Isn’t that just a little premature? I don’t remember such a great hurry for me to meet Max’s parents when we were first dating. In fact, if I remember correctly – which I’m pretty certain I do – it was over six months before that introduction took place. Why the rush now to envelop Eve into the Myerson family fold?

‘It’s a bit early for that, Mum. And, anyway, there’s Ellie to think about. I haven’t said anything to her about Eve and I don’t want to yet.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting you bring Ellie too. We could have a grown-up dinner, just the four of us. How about next time Ellie’s at Celia’s for the weekend? What’s that – in about a fortnight’s time?’

It’s hard not to find Joan’s proposal galling; the suggestion that my mum babysit our daughter in order that my
husband is free to bring his new girlfriend round to meet the possible future in-laws. As tactless proposals go, it ranks pretty highly.

‘It’s in three weeks. I don’t know, Mum. Don’t you think it’s a bit weird, bringing her round to meet you so soon?’

‘Not at all. We’re all adults. No one’s suggesting you’re going to marry the girl. It would just be nice to meet her. She sounds very interesting.’

So now she’s interesting as well as perfect. I wish Joan would have the decency at least to try and disguise her obvious excitement at the prospect of Max’s new girlfriend.

‘I’ll think about it. I’m not making any promises.’

That’s not really the reassurance I was hoping for. Last time Max told his mum he wasn’t making any promises, he was out on an internet date a month later.

Ellie skips into the room, her face now dry of tears and free of blotches.

‘Can we go and watch a movie now, Daddy? I’m ready for ice cream.’

Before I find out the answer to Ellie’s almost certainly rhetorical question, the clouds begin to gather beneath me and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before they’ll separate me from the living world once more. I’m not sure I mind too much today. I’m exhausted and confused and right now I can’t seem to make up my mind whether to be grateful to Max for being such a wonderful father, for dealing so sensitively with Ellie and for telling her such beautiful stories about our life together,
or whether to be angry with him for even contemplating the possibility of another woman usurping my place in our family.

I always thought that life dealt us a convoluted hand of conflicting emotions to play with. Who knew that death was going to be this complicated too?

Chapter 14

My lonely world gives way to the living, revealing that I’m back in Joan and Ralph’s house and that I’ve returned just in time to gatecrash the cosiest of dinner parties. It’s a scene that’s painfully familiar to me, one in which I’ve participated a hundred, two hundred times before, and yet today the fourth chair, the one positioned with its back to the door and its outlook on to the garden because, Joan says, the guest should always be afforded the best view, is taken not by me but by the woman who appears to be slipping into my shoes with disconcerting ease.

Eve congratulates Joan on the fish pie they’re all tucking in to, a dish which was always my favourite too, and I see Max slip a hand under the tablecloth – the antique lace tablecloth that only ever made an appearance in my presence on Christmas Day – and, I’m guessing by her smile, squeeze Eve’s thigh underneath.

‘You must be very clever, petal, to be a head teacher at your age. In my day, you had to be on the verge of retirement before they’d give you that honour.’

Petal. That was always Ralph’s name for me. Now he’s calling her it instead. I look at Eve’s face, radiant in the candlelight that I’ve never seen used in Joan and Ralph’s house before, and I can’t deny that she’s infinitely more suited to the epithet than I ever was.

‘Well, I suppose things have changed quite a bit, particularly in the last ten years or so. Teaching had such a bad reputation for a while that I think they were crying out for people who genuinely want to contribute something to the profession.’

‘Discipline. That’s the problem in schools these days. And that’s why they have trouble recruiting people who want to work in them. Young people have been allowed to run amok. We see it, every day, at the bus stop at the end of the road, don’t we Ralph?’

Max rolls his eyes at Eve who responds with a conspiratorial smile. It’s so early on in their relationship – what must it be, a couple of months? – and yet already they seem to have perfected the art of silent communication; those surreptitious looks in collective gatherings employed to strengthen the pair bond, secure its boundaries and protect it from invaders.

It’s what I used to have with Max. Except now I’m the one facing the most dangerous of intruders and I’m completely devoid of any defences at all.

‘You must be ever so good with children, Eve. I bet you have a really natural flair with them. You’ve got that air about you, I can just tell.’

Joan’s loaded declaration is concluded with an encouraging smile in search of affirmation, as though eager for confirmation that Eve lives up to the already elevated image Joan has of her.

‘I do love being around young people, it’s true. I find them really energizing, even the troublesome ones. I suppose it helps to remember that we were all their age once.’

Joan laughs, approbation radiating from her face, and I can see that Eve’s won herself a fan before they’ve even finished the main course.

‘Well, you know, sometimes I do find it funny that Max ended up in teaching after all the trouble he gave his teachers when he was younger.’