I was kidding myself, really, if I’d ever thought I could get away with what I’d done. As the days ticked by, I knew that, really, I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t live for years like this, waiting to be unmasked. What I’d done was too bad. So I had to move forward. I had to find you.

I went to the front door, needing air, needing to think. Across the lane, Nora was in her front garden again, weeding. I could hardly believe there were any weeds left in that particular patch, so often had I seen her there. She waved to me, and distractedly I raised my hand. I should go out and look for Poppet again really, I knew, and I wondered if she’d come too. The ground was so wet, I was constantly afraid of falling.

It was then that I glanced into the wooden planter where my slug-ravaged seedlings were growing, and saw what was there, and screamed.

Elle

Elle

He was late again.

Things had been going so much better the last week! He’d been home by five, even, one day, and when she asked him why – still covered in flour, her hair unbrushed and make-up unrefreshed – he’d swept her into his arms and asked if he needed a reason to come home early to his beautiful wife. Her heart had soared up like a helium balloon. Maybe there’d never been a woman at all – or if there had, it must be over. She’d won. She’d told herself that if it continued for a week, she’d broach the subject of IVF. She didn’t want anything to ruin this idyll. It was like the old days, drinking a bottle of wine a night, eating dessert with no fear of getting fat. Even making love, and part of her had hoped for a miracle, that a life would spark into being without the need for doctors.

But tonight he was late again. She was pacing. It was dark outside, the orange of the street light spilling into the living room. She’d left the blinds open so she could see his car. She was imagining it so hard that a few times she felt it had actually happened, that she’d heard him turn in, and the relief had settled into her like a drug. But all the cars had been the neighbours. Other husbands and wives getting home, sealing themselves in behind warm yellow windows. A few takeaway deliveries, which normally would have made her tut at how wasteful they were, how lazy and unhealthy, but tonight she didn’t care. Just please let him come home. Come back, please!