‘She’s still my sister. Molly needs me. I know she does,’ Erica said, forcing the memories away and wishing she could believe the confidence in her voice. The truth was, she didn’t know what Molly needed. Erica could still feel the penetrating glare of Molly’s eyes as Erica had rested her hand on her humongous belly and gasped her way through a Hemingway poem.
Molly hadn’t replied to a single message, or answered her phone for months. The challenge was the only thing Erica could think of to reach Molly, and even now she wasn’t entirely convinced Molly would show up at the airport.
‘We need you,’ Henry said, dragging Erica’s thoughts back to the present.
For a paycheque and a womb. The thought shot through Erica’s head and landed on her lips. She bit it back. Ten minutes and she was out the door. Just get through breakfast without an argument and you’re free.
Henry opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again and turned towards the fridge instead.
‘What?’ she asked over the vibrating hum of the coffee machine now dripping rich black liquid into two cups.
Henry turned, his features contorting into a sad frown. ‘Don’t hate me, OK? But have you thought about what we talked about?’
Erica swallowed back a wave of annoyance. Don’t fight, she reminded herself. ‘The baby?’
Henry nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing up then down as he swallowed.
She shook her head, killing the hope creeping onto his face. ‘I just don’t think it’s the right time. Work is crazy –’
‘It’s always crazy.’
‘Isla’s still so small.’ Erica reached over and tickled her daughter’s chin causing Isla to squirm and giggle.
‘Tiggle, Mummy,’ Isla said, waving her hand and the spoon she was gripping at Erica.
A blob of creamy porridge fell from the spoon in her hand, landing on the tiled floor with a splat.
‘She’s trying to eat her breakfast,’ Henry said, stepping between Erica and Isla, and repositioning Isla’s bowl in front of her.
Erica sighed and stepped back to the coffee machine to retrieve her mug. ‘You want me to spend more time with her, but then you hover over me, criticizing my every move.’ So much for not fighting.
‘I wasn’t criticizing. It’s just if she doesn’t eat her breakfast, she’ll end up napping this morning and this afternoon, then she’ll never go to sleep later.’
‘Right.’ Erica touched the mug to her lips. The black bitter liquid was too hot, and numbed the taste buds on her tongue, but she didn’t care.
‘About the baby,’ Henry said.
‘Please, don’t do this now. I’m about to go away for a week.’
He held up his hands in defeat. ‘All I was going to say, is that –’
‘I’m not getting any younger. You don’t have to remind me.’
Henry laughed sending another wave of annoyance shooting through Erica’s veins. What did he find so funny? Why did he get to be the one who laughed, and she the one who angered? ‘That’s not what I was going to say, but on that note, I’ve put a present in the bottom of your rucksack. Don’t open it until your birthday, promise?’
‘Did you?’ Erica’s mood softened a fraction. Maybe they could get through breakfast without a fight. ‘You didn’t need to do that. I don’t think there’ll be much time for celebrating.’
‘You’re turning forty, Erica. You have to have something to open.’
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘What I was going to say is that right now our lives are working. Tricon are happy with me being a part-timer so I can be here for Isla, and my parents are still healthy and young enough to lend a hand now and again when Isla has to miss nursery. If we leave it another year to have a baby then I’ll be back full-time, and who knows if I’ll get the chance to drop my hours again. Plus, I was close in age with Kate and we were really good friends growing up. We still are close. It’s what we’ve always talked about isn’t it? Two babies close together, then a third if we’re up for it.’
Erica sighed inwardly and fought to keep the annoyance from showing on her face. Was Henry really trying to hold her to something she’d said once a million years ago when they’d been drunk on wine and love? ‘One baby, great. Two babies, of course. Three? Why not?’ She remembered laughing.
Erica loved Isla with her whole heart. She loved her more than she knew it was possible to love anyone. Wasn’t that enough?
Erica opened her mouth to say something. Another protest, but Henry spoke first: ‘All I’m asking is for you to think about it whilst you’re away, OK? I know how busy you’ve been at work these last few months, and some time away to clear your head will do you good. So please just think about it.’
A needle of guilt pricked the inside of Erica’s gut. She turned to the sink, tipping the dregs of the coffee away and hiding her face from Henry. He knew her better than anyone, and she couldn’t allow him to see the truth blurring her vision.
‘I’ll think about,’ she whispered, before turning back to him. ‘I’d better go. I said I’d –’
‘Go into the office,’ Henry finished for her. His face was a mix of hurt and acceptance, and for one crazy moment all Erica could think about was stepping into his arms and confessing everything.
She took a step towards him. Henry’s deep brown eyes bore into her. The eyes of her husband – the man she’d chosen to marry. The man she’d fallen in love with, and had been in love with for the best part of a decade.
What was she doing?
Say it. Say it now – I never meant to hurt you. Her heart drummed in her chest as the lies she’d told him flashed through her mind. One after the other, after the other. ‘Henry, I –’
The clatter of Isla’s spoon on the tiled floor shook the sense back into Erica. After everything she’d done, now was not the time for honesty. ‘I’d better go,’ she finished over Isla’s wails.
‘Bye, baby girl,’ Erica said, dropping a kiss onto her daughter’s head and breathing in her smell one final time. ‘I love you so much. Be good for Daddy.’
‘See you next week.’
Erica stood on her tiptoes, planting a kiss on Henry’s cheek.
At the last second she felt his arms cup around her body and pull her into a tight embrace that smelt of yesterday’s aftershave and sleep. ‘I love you,’ he said. ‘Please be careful.’
Erica stepped into the hall, pushed her feet into her boots, scooped up her bag, and flung open the front door. The guilt she’d felt flew off with a gust of wind leaving only the flutter of excitement dancing in her stomach again. It was an effort not to run towards the station.
Molly
Molly ducked her head away from the curious eyes in the airport terminal and wished she hadn’t let her mum take her to the airport. As if the four-hour lecture on being careful on their drive from Sheffield wasn’t bad enough; now this. And where the hell was Erica? This was her idea, and she couldn’t even be bothered to arrive on time to give Molly some backup.
‘Mum, it’s OK. You can stop crying. I’ll be back next week,’ Molly said, her