Second Chance - Jane Green [139]
‘None,’ Marcus almost shouts. ‘I swear.’
‘Right. And I’m supposed to believe you. And another thing, Marcus, don’t you dare tell the children this is my fault. Not now. I’ve never said a word against you, even after last night, and I expect you to do the same. I’m going now. I don’t want to talk to you any more,’ and she ends the call just as she turns into the driveway of the house.
*
The house seems empty when they get back. The only person around appears to be Will, and Holly doesn’t want to be around him right now. She feels guilt and shame, and mostly she feels stupid for thinking that Will was going to be the one to rescue her, that Will was her soulmate, when he so obviously isn’t.
She doesn’t know what to say to him any more. After all these months of telling him everything, sharing all the tiny details of her life, she doesn’t know how to act or how to pretend that everything is normal, when nothing is normal.
Nothing about her life is normal. Nothing is as it was. It is, she realizes, like having an accident. One minute you are fine, the next you have sliced your hand open on the food-processor blade, and it is ridiculous to suddenly have blood pouring down your wrist when a second ago there was nothing.
It is true, she realizes, how everything in your life can change in an instant. Tom was Tom – a husband, a father, a friend – and in an instant, Tom was gone. Sarah thought she knew where the rest of her life would lead her, and now she is going down a completely different path.
And Holly, Holly who has defined herself all these years first as a wife, then a mother, is realizing that, if she is no longer a wife, she has to replace that with something else, and being a girlfriend, being Will’s girlfriend, is not the right choice.
She knows that on some level she has to trust that it will all work out the way it is supposed to. Just this morning she was realizing that, despite everything, she wouldn’t change a thing about her past. She has her two beautiful children after all, and these fourteen years of marriage have brought her to where she is today, forced her to a place where she can acknowledge that she has wants and needs and that she is no longer willing to stay in a situation where those needs are not met.
People can change. This she knows. But even if Marcus changed it wouldn’t matter. Even if he was granted the gift of humility, even if he started being an attentive, loving, adoring husband, it wouldn’t matter, because Holly doesn’t love him. Holly has never loved him.
‘Where is everyone?’ Holly asks, finding Will on his own in the kitchen.
Will puts the hammer down and comes over to help Holly unbutton the kids’ coats.
‘It’s Olivia,’ he says gently. ‘She was bleeding. They’ve taken her to the hospital.’
Holly takes a sharp intake of breath. ‘Oh God, the baby. Is she losing it?’
‘I don’t know. She was having some cramping as well, and they just bundled her into the car and took her to the Gloucestershire Royal Hospital. Paul said they’d phone when they knew something.’
‘When did they leave?’
‘About an hour ago.’
Olivia is scared. She doesn’t like hospitals, has never liked hospitals, and wishes that she could turn the clock back to yesterday when everything was fine. Except it wasn’t fine. Yesterday she was pregnant, and until this morning when she went to the bathroom and discovered blood in her knickers, she wanted to turn the clock back to when she wasn’t pregnant, to when it wasn’t something she ever, ever thought about.
Anna sits on a chair in the corner of the room. Paul and Saffron are outside in the waiting room as the radiologist places icy-cold gel all over Olivia’s bare stomach.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I know it’s cold but it won’t last long.’
Olivia is transfixed by the television screen. Her head is turned uncomfortably, eyes glued to the screen, wanting to see. Not wanting to see. This is a blessing, she keeps trying to tell herself. This is a blessing in disguise. I don’t want this baby.
She steals a glance at Anna, who looks far more terrified than she does. This