Page 26

Natalie

As she heads back upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom, Natalie feels woozy and drained.

She feels the way she did last time she went for lunch with Eve and it turned into a night out, months before she found out she was expecting Erin.

Her head spins, her vision blurring the outline of the bed into an indistinct blob, as she stumbles inside and closes the door, leaning against it and shutting her eyes, before hurrying into the en suitebathroom.

Vanessa wasn’t lying.

Pete cheated on me. Suddenly nauseous, Natalie’s mouth fills with saliva and she retches over the toilet, giving herself an eerie case of déjà vu.

She spent a lot of time in this position in the early days of her pregnancy.

Finally, her stomach muscles aching and her mouth sour, there is nothing left to come up, and Natalie stands on shaking legs, moving to the sink.

Pete really did cheat on me.

As she leans down and slurps cold water directly from the tap, swishing it around her mouth, Natalie feels sick again.

Even though she had seen the file, had looked at the photos Vanessa had hidden in there, part of her was still hoping all of this was some terrible mistake.

That Vanessa had somehow faked the photo of Pete asleep in her bed.

If there had only been the pictures of Vanessa, naked and hungry, Natalie could well have believed it was all a set-up – there was something in the other woman’s eyes as she said Pete’s name that made Natalie think perhaps she was a bit unstable, desperate, even – but there is no explanation for the photograph of Pete.

He must have seen it.

Why didn’t he get rid of the file?

A horrible thought strikes her as she raises her eyes to the mirror, dabbing at her mouth.

What if Pete kept the file in the hopes that Natalie would find it?

What if he wanted her to know about the affair – he might even have told Vanessa to spill the beans.

Pete’s never been the bravest, and that would have made things easier for him – he didn’t exactly deny it when she challenged him.

Something clenches deep inside her gut, and Natalie presses her hand to her stomach.

Somehow, the thought of that is even worse.

The thought that it wasn’t just a quick shag, a roll in the hay to boost Pete’s ego.

The thought that Pete might actually be in love with this woman – this woman who shared a part of Pete’s life that Natalie wasn’t around for – that he might leave Natalie and the kids for her, makes her feel physically ill.

Her reflection in the mirror is puffy and pasty, her skin dry in some patches, oily in others, her make-up sweated off in the stress of trying to hold herself together throughout the party.

Her hair, escaping from the messy bun she tied it in, is greasy at the scalp, in desperate need of a wash, while the ends are dry and brittle, split ends making it frizzy and unmanageable.

Natalie hasn’t had a haircut since just before Erin was born eight months ago, hasn’t had her highlights done for even longer.

No wonder Pete looked elsewhere, she thinks.

She’s a different woman from the one who sat across from him and told him they were going to have another baby.

At the thought of that night, fresh tears spring to her eyes.

While Natalie knew Pete would be resistant to the idea of another baby initially, she honestly thought it would be different from how the past few months have turned out.

Natalie had thought when she made the decision to go ahead with the pregnancy that Erin would be like Emily and Zadie – both easy, happy babies.

There had been teething problems with Emily, of course.

Natalie was barely more than a child herself when she was born, and she often felt as though she was winging her way through bringing her up, but Emily was placid and slept well, and Natalie had often wondered why some mothers complained all the time.

Zadie had been the same, and as Emily was almost ten when Zadie was born it had all felt rather easy.

Natalie had been back at work six months after Zadie’s birth, and Zadie was at a brilliant nursery she’d found, so Natalie never really felt as though she’d had to sacrifice anything for her.

Erin, though … Natalie sighs.

Erin was difficult before she was even born, keeping Natalie up all night with heartburn and needing to wee every hour, it felt like.

And then the birth …

Remembering the fear and panic of that day, and the trauma of the days that followed, is enough to make Natalie’s pulse triple.

Maybe that was when she should have realised nothing was ever going to be the same.

Pete wasn’t around a lot in the early days with Emily, as he worked day and night at a construction consultancy firm, and then when Zadie was born Pete had already gone freelance and was in the process of setting up his own company.

Natalie hadn’t felt any resentment towards him because she knew he was doing it all for them.

This time, though, she should have known when Pete took that phone call in the hospital room, leaving her alone and in pain, that things were already different.

‘You stupid, stupid woman,’ Natalie whispers at her own washed-out reflection.

‘Client dinners? And how many times can a drainage run get blocked?’ She should have known.

Although now she’s being truly honest with herself about things, didn’t a part of her enjoy the fact that Pete wasn’t around?

Yes, she struggled with Erin – the child never sleeps, and God knows if there’s one thing Natalie needs, it’s sleep – and she could have done with Pete’s help, but she’s not convinced he would have even been that much help.

Look at how he is with Zadie – he never wants to discipline her; instead he just tuts at her and tips her upside down on the sofa until she laughs.

No, the truth is that a tiny part of Natalie enjoyed not having Pete at home.

She liked the brief hour or two when Erin did settle for the night, when she could watch reality TV without Pete’s judgement, without having to make conversation when all she wanted to do was stare blankly at the flickering screen in front of her.

She often felt a wave of relief at getting into bed before he came home, making sure her breathing was deep and even when she heard the front door open, so he wouldn’t slide his hands under the baggy T-shirts she’s taken to sleeping in, pressing himself against her back in that insistent way he has.

Maybe it’s my fault.

Can she blame Pete for looking elsewhere when she did turn her back on him?

They haven’t slept together since before Erin was born, Natalie afraid of hurting her hysterectomy scar at first, and then just full of bottled-up resentment towards him, so much so that every time she thought about sleeping with him, it felt like some sort of reward, one Pete didn’t deserve.

God, what a mess. A horrible, heartbreaking mess.

Natalie opens the door of the bathroom cabinet, intent on pulling out make-up wipes to fix her face before going back to the party for the final hour or so, telling herself she’s faked it all day, she can fake it for a tiny bit longer, when the white box of diazepam catches her eye.

It’s still hidden behind the tampons, still unopened, but now she gently eases it out and tugs out a blister packet.

Maybe Eve is right. Maybe I do need a little bit of help.

Natalie has always been resistant to the idea of medication, an idea that seems a little outdated now that mental health isn’t something to be hidden or kept secret, but growing up in a household where her mother popped a pill for every ailment (even those that didn’t exist) pressed Natalie into avoiding even paracetamol if she could.

Now, though, she understands.

The thought of having to go back to the party, knowing Pete lied to her, knowing Eve betrayed her, knowing Emily hates her, is almost too much to bear.

She can’t do it without a little bit of help, something to blur the edges a little so it doesn’t feel so painful.

Pressing against the foil, she pops two pills into her hand.

The box says take one, and she falters for a moment before filling the small water glass on the side of the sink and throwing back both of the pills with a slug of lukewarm tap water.

Almost immediately she feels better.

She can do this. Moving silently across the carpet, Natalie perches on the end of the bed, on Pete’s side, listening out for any noise from the adjoining bedroom where Erin sleeps.

There is only silence, and Natalie lets out a long breath.

Just ten minutes, that’s all I need .

Just ten minutes to let the pills kick in and then she’ll go back down the stairs, back to the party.

Natalie shuffles round, so her head rests on Pete’s pillow, smelling the faint scent of Tom Ford Ombre Leather emanating from the pillowcase.

She loves that aftershave; she buys it for him every Christmas.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to smell it again without thinking of today, of this party.

Flipping over the pillow, Natalie closes her eyes, feeling as though her limbs are melting into the mattress.

She thinks about Pete and Vanessa, wonders if Pete really will leave her and go and shack up in that fancy flat in Montpellier Square.

She finds the idea isn’t as devastating or as terrifying as it was a short while ago, her emotions dulled and pleasantly numb.

If she’d known the pills were going to make her feel like this, she would have taken them a lot sooner.

The last thought she has before oblivion creeps in, darkening the corners of her mind, is about Pete.

If they could turn back the clock, would Pete want to get rid of the baby?

If she’d told him when she first saw those two pink lines on the test, her heart turning over in her chest, does she think Pete would have tried his hardest to make her change her mind?

Maybe . Maybe if she had the time again, she would change her mind herself.

All she can think right now is that she would do anything to fix things, to have things go back to the way they were before.