‘Seventeen missed calls,’ Megan said, nervously tapping her fingers. It was seven o’clock, and we were sitting around her kitchen table drinking tea. ‘There are voicemails too.’
‘Should we listen?’ I asked.
‘We should listen,’ Kate said.
Megan chewed her lip again. ‘Okay.’ She played the first on the loudspeaker.
‘Megan, something has happened to my car.’ Mike’s breathing was heavy and his voice unsteady. ‘Call me back when you get this.’ Beep.
We burst into a fit of giggles before Megan played the next one.
‘Look, I know you hate me, but I really need you to check and see if the spare key fob is at the house. Mine isn’t working, and something has, er, well . . .’ Beep.
She played the next one.
‘Megan!’ he barked. ‘Does this have something to do with you?’ Beep.
Kate smirked. ‘Well, it sounds like he’s sweating.’
‘Oh, I’d have loved to see his face,’ Megan said wistfully.
‘I don’t know what his problem is,’ I said, giggling. ‘It looked beautiful! That Billy had a real talent. I’m thinking of asking him to do the nursery, if I ever find a place to live.’
We were startled by a knock on the door. Megan glanced at us.
‘Well don’t look at me, it’s your house,’ Kate said.
‘Probably just Sam,’ I said, and Megan nodded in agreement before getting up and heading down the hallway.
There were some muffled voices. A man. Kate frowned at me, and I turned my head to listen better. The voices increased.
‘Megan, I don’t care. My name is on the deeds and I’m coming in.’
Mike.
Without saying a word, Kate and I rose simultaneously and went out into the hallway.
‘You’re not coming in!’ she shouted as we stood flanking her in solidarity. ‘You don’t live here any more.’
‘It’s a shame all the lawyers we know are on the dark side,’ Kate quipped, just loud enough for me to hear.
‘You did this to my car, didn’t you?’ Mike was seething, and he forced his words out with such hatred, spittle came with them and began to congeal on his bottom lip. My nausea returned and I retched.
‘I know, he’s completely gross. Imagine sleeping with him?’ Kate whispered. ‘How did he ever get a gorgeous fiancée and a bit on the side?’
‘It’s pregnancy,’ I managed to murmur back.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Megan told Mike.
‘You.’ He shook an accusatory finger at her. ‘You will pay for this. I’ll be reporting this jealous little act of vandalism to the police.’ He fixed his glare upon her. ‘I’ll get a lawyer. And you will pay.’ He jabbed his finger at her again. ‘You will pay.’ With that, he turned and went down the short driveway, getting into a car at the end.
‘I’m surprised he didn’t have to come on the bus,’ I said, remembering his mistress’s lack of car.
‘That was his work colleague, Matt,’ Megan said. ‘What do I do now? You heard him, he’s going to the police.’
I placed a hand on Megan’s shoulder. ‘And whose car is it?’ I asked.
‘Mine,’ she said uncertainly.
‘Well then,’ I said firmly.
‘And did you get the pictures of the car?’ Kate asked.
‘It’s already on Facebook and Instagram with over a hundred likes.’ Megan smirked. ‘I’m surprised he could even face Matt tonight. He must be seething.’ She let out a nervous laugh.
***
It turned out that my finances weren’t too bad. A few calls with my financial adviser had proven positive. I had personal savings made up of money I’d saved, money I’d inherited from my gran, and money my parents had given me after they sold their main home in England, plus James and I had invested a fair amount over the years. It was just about enough to buy a small cottage on the outskirts of Wilmslow, or a four bed-detached somewhere cheaper. It would take a few weeks for the investment money to come through but it was there. I’d found a pretty little two-bed online that looked perfect.
It was in the middle of a row of similar cottages but was set forward from the rest slightly, relishing in the limelight like I used to. It had a small gravel driveway and potted flowers lining the edge. The cottage itself was built from small bricks all in different shades of red and brown, and the wooden front door was painted in what I’d come to recognise as Farrow & Ball’s French Grey (or similar, of course). It looked perfect.
My 5 Series probably wouldn’t fit on the driveway, and the floor plan showed the interior to be small too; the whole upstairs was probably not even as big as the master suite I’d shared with James, and the downstairs was open plan, with a small lounge, kitchen, and dining area all rolled into one, but it didn’t matter, really. It was tidy and cosy and that’s all I needed. There was a small stone courtyard to the rear and open fields beyond.
Without telling anyone, I rang to arrange a viewing, certain that homes like that would be snapped up quickly in the area. As it turned out, the agent informed me they’d just decided to put on an open house that Saturday because of the high interest.
***
As I stood on the gravel driveway looking up, I clutched my tummy apprehensively. It’s just me and you now. A young couple was walking out hand in hand with happy, smiling faces and a pang of something sharp prodded at my chest at the sight of them. It took me a moment to identify the feeling. I should have felt jealous of their happiness, but I didn’t. It wasn’t hurt for what James did or grief at losing him – I spent so much time without him anyway. It was love. Love for the little human inside of me. Love for someone I hadn’t even met. I needed the cottage for me and my baby – somewhere safe and cosy that was ours. A place we could grow together, both physically, in their case, and mentally in mine.
‘Would you like to come inside?’ A lady in a suit had appeared at the door. ‘I’m Martha from Heritage Properties.’ She held out her hand, and I took a few steps forward to take it.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I said politely. Glancing past her, I could see the entire ground floor of the property, right through to the small patio doors at the back. There were two other couples inside and one of the men was opening and closing kitchen units. I didn’t want to go inside and see happy couples rifling through the cupboards. It wasn’t going to be a couply home – that’s what I was leaving behind. The place looked well kept enough and the surveys and things would take care of the major things.
‘I want to take it,’ I blurted.
Martha looked visibly taken aback. ‘Don’t you want to come in for a look first? It is popular, but there’s time for a look.’ I didn’t need to go inside, I already knew it was perfect for us: cosy, homely, and unpretentious. Everything I wanted to be. I didn’t need to waste time going in, what I needed to do was make an offer.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t need to see inside. It’s perfect. I just want to know what to do.’ I stroked my tummy as though reassuring the baby as much as myself.
She shifted a little, turning her head from the couples inside and back to me before glancing sympathetically at my small bump. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this, but there are two offers in already. One is ridiculously low, but the other is only just under asking price. Plenty are interested, but it’s a lot of money for a starter home, and people would be stretching themselves without getting a deal. An offer at the full asking price should be quite favourable to the vendor, especially if you can move quickly as they’re emigrating.’
‘Thank you so much, that’s helpful to know.’ I crunched across the gravel towards my car and manoeuvred myself inside before taking out my phone.
I took a deep breath – futile yet symbolic in the sense it was my way of transitioning from one life to another. Breathing in my new life and exhaling the old. I dialled the number for Heritage Properties.
‘Hello,’ I said nervously. ‘I’d like to put an offer in on the Alderley Road cottage in Wilmslow, please.’ I was acutely aware of my fingers trembling as I gripped the phone. Was I really going ahead with this? It seemed so final.
‘Ahh yes,’ the lady on the end of the line said. I hadn’t caught her name when she answered. I was too busy wondering what the hell I was doing. ‘A little gem that one.’ I heard the sound of fingernails clicking away on keyboard keys. ‘And what price would you like to offer?’ she asked.
‘The full amount, if you think it will be enough?’ I said. It was all new to me; I’d seen those property programs and watched people buy houses, but James had arranged the purchase of our house and I’d simply liaised with the interior designer once we got the keys.
‘I will put it to the vendor and get back to you,’ she said. And just like that, it was done. I had to wait in limbo. I never waited for things, and it felt odd to put my future into the hands of others. I had to take my mind off it.
I drove back to Megan’s, thankful she was out working. I needed some time to be alone. As I crossed the threshold, there was a letter on the mat – a folded sheet of paper with my name on – which I bent to pick up. I recognised the writing.
Charlotte,
You’ve made your point now, loud and clear. It’s time to come home. Back to our life together. I’m sorry, I was a complete idiot, I know that, and if I could take it all back, I would. We need to move forward now, for the sake of our family. You need your husband by your side.
James
My fist balled around the note and I squeezed as hard as I could, my fingernails working their way through the paper and cutting into my skin in a mixture of anger and frustration. It wasn’t enough that he’d hurt me and betrayed my trust twice, he was also confusing me – and just when I’d reached the point of moving on and trying to rebuild my life. It would be easy to forgive him again and step back into my old life.
As I stood there in the hallway, my phone buzzed, breaking my thoughts.
‘Mrs Emsworth?’ The name cut me. ‘This is Martha from Heritage Properties. I’m thrilled to tell you that the vendors have accepted your offer.’
‘Th-thank you,’ I said in a daze. She mumbled something about popping in with proof of all my finances and solicitors’ details but my mind was a blur. I was going to buy a house for me and my baby. I glanced down at the screwed-up note in my hand. Martha’s call came just in time.
If I was going to stick to my guns and move forward, I had to tell James to leave me alone and make it clear that I wasn’t simply making a point. I jabbed at the screen of my mobile and as it started to ring, everything went silent. I checked the screen and it was black. Damn, why was the universe so against me moving on? Why now? And why do mobile phone batteries get worse with every damn release? Noticing Megan’s house phone, I picked it up and dialled the house number since it was all I could remember. I didn’t want to waste another second to have to search for a charger.
It rang. Chances were, he wouldn’t be in; that would be just my luck. Just as I was about to hang up, there was a click and a voice. A woman’s voice.
‘Hello, Mr Emsworth’s residence.’ For a split second, I thought it was my cleaner, Janine, but it wasn’t her day. It was her. My blood ran cold. He had her in our house and she was answering my phone. I swallowed hard.
‘Is Mr Emsworth available?’ I asked, struggling to maintain a steady voice.
‘I’ll see,’ she said.
A deeper, familiar voice came on the line. ‘Hello?’
‘Ahh, so you can come to your own phone. Thought you might have had your little tart running around after your every need now like I always did.’
‘Charlotte! I—’
‘Save it,’ I said. ‘You can’t help yourself. You want a wife and a mistress. I don’t know how long you two have been carrying on, but I’m not some marble floor that can sustain constant trampling.’
‘I’m here rattling around alone, waiting for you. What am I supposed to do with you having this little marriage excursion? Samantha means nothing. I’m just waiting for you to come back to me.’
I almost laughed. How did I not see what type of man he was before? I’d always thought him to be so attentive and caring. I thought he idolised me and worshipped the ground I walked on and, admittedly, I’d relished in the envy of women like Lauren and Emmy who practically swooned in his presence. Perhaps that feeling wasn’t love as deep as I thought it was and instead, a feeling more similar to the one you get when you buy a nice handbag. Was he really so self-assured he believed I’d go running back to him and agree it was okay for Samantha to keep my bed warm in the meantime? He was so narcissistic it got in the way of rational thinking.
There wasn’t a better time to share my news. ‘James, I’m buying a house.’
‘You? You’re buying a house?’ His voice became stern now. ‘Charlotte, this has gone far enough now without you frittering away our pension pot.’
‘I’m buying it with my bonds, James, the ones made up of my own savings, my inheritance off my gran, and the money my parents gave me before they buggered off around the world. It isn’t our stupid pension pot.’ I was yelling, and I’d never yelled at James. ‘I’m going to live in the house with my baby. Whenever you manage to pull your trousers back on, you’ll be welcome to spend time with your child. And by the way, keep her away from my stuff!’ I slammed down the phone.
The thought of living alone was scary, as was the thought of having a new baby to care for. I had no idea how to care for a baby and was racked with worry about getting it wrong. It was all so uncertain, but one thing that didn’t scare me any more was losing James. We’d be better off without him, and my only regret was that it had taken me so long to see it.