The Missing Wife. Sam Carrington

sank back in the chair. Had their messaging and the hushed conversations all been about arranging one night away from her baby? Louisa’s face flushed. Shit. She’d practically accused Tiff of having an affair with her husband. As well as hallucinations, she could now tick paranoia off the sleep deprivation checklist.

      ‘But it’s a pub, Brian. I won’t sleep with all the noise.’

      ‘The rooms are in a converted barn adjacent to the pub so it should be fine. Even if you don’t get to sleep until midnight, you could still get seven, eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. It’ll be far better than what you’ve been getting.’

      Louisa contemplated it. It wasn’t as if her parents could take Noah, like they used to Emily. They were too old now: her mother too fragile, her dad clueless – plus, she hadn’t even spoken to them for weeks, their relationship remaining strained. Even when they’d looked after Emily, Louisa had always felt it’d been something they’d done out of duty rather than love. Each time her mum agreed to take Emily it was a decision edged with bitterness.

      Louisa’s rocky relationship with them, her mother in particular, was a hangover from her teenage years – she’d often been told how she’d been challenging, that her erratic behaviour when she was at college had caused no end of worry. Louisa had spent a long time wishing she could’ve gone away to a college further afield, rather than to the closest one. But commuting daily to Exeter was simpler and it wasn’t as though she had much choice anyway. It wasn’t like going off to uni, where it was expected you live away from home. She was only doing A levels and none of her friends had their own digs; all of them lived at home too, so she couldn’t even crash at anyone else’s. Things might have been very different if that had been a possibility.

      Considering her lack of options, Brian’s offer may well be her only opportunity to have some time out. One night couldn’t hurt. And she really needed sleep if the last few days, and particularly last night, were anything to go by.

      ‘Thank you.’ She gave a grateful smile.

      ‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Brian got up and moved to the worktop where his mobile was. He unplugged it from its charger and was immediately immersed in texting. Tiff, she presumed.

      ‘We got any Coco Pops?’ Emily breezed into the kitchen. No ‘good morning’, no eye contact.

      ‘Unless you’ve eaten them all, then yes – in the larder.’

      Emily huffed and sloped over to the larder, pulling the yellow box from the top shelf. Louisa watched as her handbag banged back against the door as Emily went to close it. She must remember to take the bag with her secret stash of cigarettes inside to Court Farm later. She’d also take her tablets from the drawer. While one night away from Noah might be beneficial, she had a feeling she’d need more help than that to sleep well.

       7

       THE DECOY

       Friday p.m.

      Tiff’s car – a volcano-red Audi A8, so she’d informed Louisa when she’d bought it brand new – drew up outside at smack on five. Louisa watched from the window as Tiff got out, perfectly dressed as usual, her Ray-Ban sunglasses on, despite the March weather being quite dull. Louisa looked down at her own ensemble: the same jeans she’d been wearing all week and a plain black baggy T-shirt. She should’ve made more effort, but then again, it was meant to be a relaxing night away so it didn’t really matter what she wore.

      Brian had come home from work early and taken Noah out for a walk – Emily begrudgingly went with them. Louisa had said her goodbyes. In her head, she repeated, It’s only one night. She knew it could only do her good.

      She’d made sure her cigarettes and tablets were in her bag – she’d already taken two tablets that morning as a precaution, knowing her anxiety levels would be increasing. Checking the freezer, she noted there was a good stack of frozen milk, even more than she’d thought. How had she pumped off that much? As far as she could tell, her milk production had slowed to the degree she was considering supplementing Noah with formula. At least she didn’t have to worry about him going hungry. The bottles were freshly sterilised. All was taken care of. She popped two more tablets out of the aluminium pack, swallowed them without water, and threw the packet back into her handbag as she thrust it over her shoulder and walked towards the front door.

      ‘Hi, hun! You not ready yet?’ Tiff said as she embraced Louisa, then stood back to take in her appearance.

      ‘Er … yes. I didn’t see the point in dressing up,’ Louisa said.

      ‘No, no I guess not. Have you packed anything else?’ Tiff’s frown said it all.

      ‘I’ve got another T-shirt.’ Louisa held up the small overnight bag she’d found in the back of the wardrobe and that she’d stuffed with minimal supplies.

      ‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and grab something nice for later – a dress or something.’

      ‘For later? I was planning on sleeping later, Tiff.’

      ‘Yes, yes. Of course. I thought I’d treat you to a nice dinner though, before you bed down for the night. You’re looking pasty lately, like you’re in need of a good meal. And you know, a drink or two, which I’m sure will help you settle quicker.’ She smiled.

      Louisa knew it was futile to argue so she bounded up the stairs, pulled her old faithful off the hanger – a flower-print jersey dress – and shoved it inside her bag. She grabbed her make-up bag too. Pasty. She would make a small effort, just to get Tiff off her back.

      ‘Right, let’s go!’ Tiff was out of the door before Louisa could say anything.

      The room was small but adequate. Louisa had often been to the restaurant and bar at Court Farm but living so close meant there’d never been a need to stay. It felt weird to be sleeping away from home when it was only two miles away. She really hoped she felt better after tonight; Brian would be so disappointed if his plan didn’t work, but Louisa knew that she’d need far more than one night for a difference to be made.

      A knock interrupted her thoughts. Louisa opened the door to Tiff.

      ‘My plan is that you shower now, dress up, slap on some war paint and we hit the bar in an hour. Sound good?’

      ‘Well, I guess.’ Anxiety coursed through her body like a rapidly spreading virus. It seemed a lot to do in an hour, and the double bed with its fluffy pillows and crisp, clean bed linen looked really inviting.

      ‘I’ll go and get some wine. It’ll be like old times, getting ready to go out.’ Tiff’s enthusiasm made Louisa smile in spite of her misgivings. When they’d first been friends, Tiff regularly dragged Louisa out on a Friday night – not clubbing, those times were long gone – but they’d go into Newton, traipse from one pub to another, Tiff drinking more than was sensible, and they’d have a good laugh. It was the time getting ready at Tiff’s house that used to make Louisa’s night. She always went to Tiff’s because there, Louisa had no one making any demands on her: she could avoid Emily’s bedtime and leave the calming-down period and story-telling to Brian, so it was more fun. She’d have been fine with just that, not even bothering to go out. Louisa wasn’t much of a drinker, not since her college days. She’d allow Tiff to get her a drink now, though. One wouldn’t hurt, and it wasn’t as though she had to feed Noah.

      ‘Okay. I’d better jump in the shower then.’

      ‘Excellent,’ Tiff said as she did a dramatic twirl and left the room. Louisa took out the dress she’d squashed into her bag, brushing it down and hoping the creases wouldn’t be too visible once it was on her. This could be just what she needed – a shower in complete peace, a few hours of being ‘normal’, a nice meal, a good natter