Page 57 of Postscript

‘It takes two people to make a baby, this is not all on you.’

‘It is me.’

We’ve never discussed this before. I never asked, it’s none of anybody’s business but their own.

‘If I step aside, then he could meet somebody else and live the rest of his life the way he wants. I’m standing in the way of his dream.’

I stare at her, my mouth agape. ‘This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘It’s not,’ she replies, turning away from me and crossing her legs. She directs her justification to the fireplace instead of me. ‘You haven’t lived in our shoes. Every month he was so hopeful. You’ve no idea what that’s like. Disappointment after disappointment. And then every meeting, appointment, every single time we began IVF again, he believed every single time that it was going to happen, and it didn’t. And it’s not. It never will.’

‘It could still happen,’ I say gently.

‘It won’t,’ she says firmly. ‘Because I’m not trying any more. I’m exhausted.’ She wipes her eyes, a definite look in her eye. ‘I know that Tom loves me, but I know what he wants, and he can’t have that with me.’

‘So by breaking his heart and leaving him, you are actually making it easier for him?’

She sniffs in response.

‘He wants you, Denise.’

‘I know that he loves me, but sometimes that’s not enough. The past seven years, since we got married, we’ve been obsessed with making a baby, making a baby. It’s all we talk about. We save and plan, plan and save to make a baby. There’s nothing else. And now there will be no baby. So what the hell are we? If we move on, I know what I won’t be. I won’t be a wife who couldn’t make a baby, and he won’t be a loyal husband who settled for second best. Does that make sense?’

‘Yes.’ I finally agree. ‘But it’s wrong.’

We drink silently. I sip, searching my head for something wise to say, something that will flick the switch and reverse her thinking. Denise takes a huge mouthful of wine.

‘Have you had any offers on the house yet?’ she asks, changing the subject, draining her glass.

‘No.’

‘I don’t understand why you don’t just move in with Gabriel now, while the house is on the market.’

‘I’m not moving in with Gabriel.’

Denise’s eyes widen. ‘You changed your mind?’

‘Gabriel’s daughter is moving in with him, and he wants to wait until she adjusts before we take the next step. And before you ask, he thinks the transition could take up to two years.’

‘What the fuck?!’ she spits and wine flies from her lip and into my eye. ‘Sorry,’ she says as I wipe it away. She stares at me, aghast. ‘Is he trying to break up with you?’

‘He says he’s not, but, I sense the future is bleak.’ I take a slug of wine.

‘But he’s the one that wanted you to move in.’

‘I know.’

‘He asked you for months.’

‘I know.’

‘This doesn’t make sense!’

‘I know.’

She narrows her eyes suspiciously at me. ‘Has it anything to do with the PS, I Love You Club?’

I sigh. ‘Yes, no. Maybe. It probably hasn’t helped, all this stuff coming together at the same time.’ I rub my face tiredly.