Unexpected: A True Short Story. Rosie Lewis

Copyright

      Certain details in this story, including names, places and dates, have been changed to protect the family’s privacy.

      HarperElement

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published by HarperElement 2015

      FIRST EDITION

      © Rosie Lewis 2015

      A catalogue record of this book is

      available from the British Library

      Cover image © Alicia Mick/Arcangel Images (posed by model)

      Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

      Rosie Lewis asserts the moral right to

      be identified as the author of this work

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

      Find out about HarperCollins and the environment at

       www.harpercollins.co.uk/green

      Ebook Edition © August 2015 ISBN: 9780008113049

      Version: 2015-07-17

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Copyright

      

      

       Unexpected

      

      

       Epilogue

      

      

       Why not try …?

       Exclusive sneak peek: Skin Deep by Casey Watson

       Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

       Write for Us

       About the Publisher

Unexpected

      All things considered, it couldn’t really get any worse. Or at least that’s what Ellen told herself when she woke to find Mark’s side of the bed cold and last night’s awful, heavy sensation still pressing on her midriff. As she blinked in the darkness, the memory of their final conversation seemed to bounce off the walls like an echo, with stress making her windpipe burn and her hands tremble. What she couldn’t work out was why her body was reacting to his exit with such shock. Hadn’t she known that he’d scramble for the door as soon as he discovered the truth?

      While other women worried about infidelity, Ellen regarded Google as one of the greatest threats to her happiness, with old newspapers coming a close second. Christ, if anyone should have been used to abrupt endings it was her, but with Mark somehow – she chewed away at her jagged fingernails as she thought about it – she’d imagined that he wouldn’t freak out like the others. For the first time in her life she had felt safe, but then the dream imploded after a single, ill-thought-out confession. It was her own stupid fault. After his proposal, she’d told herself it was only fair to tell him that she would never have kids. But why hadn’t she just concocted some story about blocked tubes or faulty eggs?

      Did she really believe anyone in their right mind would tie themselves to a liability like her, once they knew the full story? Not a chance, she thought, with another angry gnaw at her reddened fingertips. That’s why she’d always been careful about contraception, even asking her doctor about sterilisation. The GP had refused, declaring that, at twenty-eight, she was ‘too young to make that sort of decision’. But she could see by his wavering gaze that he understood why she wanted it done. Of course he did – he knew her history.

      ‘Whatever it is, nothing will change between us,’ Mark had reassured her, when she told him she had something important to say. ‘I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you,’ he’d said. A small, hopeful part of her had dared to believe him then, until she saw the doubts bleeding into his face. The next two months passed awkwardly, and it was as if they were stuck in a cold departure lounge waiting for a flight to some far-off place – she knew the parting was coming, she just didn’t know when.

      ‘It’s you, El,’ he’d said last night as he stuffed unfolded clothes into a suitcase. ‘Why must you push everyone away? I don’t give a monkey’s about all that other crap. You’re your own worst enemy, you know that?’ Fixing his gaze anywhere but on her pale, stricken face, he hadn’t even stayed long enough to pack up his beloved rock CDs. Do you think I’d stick around if I didn’t have to? Ellen had wanted to scream, sorely tempted to hurl one of the Metallica CD cases at the back of his head. Instead she had folded her hands in her lap and sat quietly, with unseen tears rolling down her cheeks.

      It was strange to think that she might almost have felt relieved if Mark had run off with someone else – or if not relieved, then at least normal. She’d belong to the same club generations before her had unwittingly joined. After all, there was no shame in being tossed aside for someone richer, sassier or fitter, was there? Why, she could go into work today, wail about Mark’s callous disregard and wallow in the kindness of her colleagues; some might even take twisted pleasure in raking over the sordid details and tearing him to shreds. Oh, how she’d love to oblige them.

      Her body protested as she trudged to the bathroom, Bow nudging his damp muzzle into her hands as she went. She leaned over and stroked his velvety ears, breaking into a sweat when she straightened up. Massaging her lower back with her knuckles, she groaned as she stepped into the shower, the sad ache in her chest weighing her whole torso down as she washed her hair and then afterwards, standing heavily at the sink to brush her teeth. Bow yawned and sank to the floor, resting his chin on her toes. He looked up at her with a mournful expression, the whites of his eyes visible below a deep molasses brown. With Mark gone, Ellen was worried about