Читать книгу Forget Me Not - Claire Allan - Страница 21

There was a moment when I woke up the following morning when everything was as it should be. Nothing had changed. I lay in the early morning sunlight and listened to the gentle snore of the man I’d married beside me. Passing thoughts of the summer holidays went through my head. Having two children so far apart in age had made it hard to find a holiday that would suit them both. We’d opted for a villa with a pool and allowed Beth to ask a friend along.

I smiled, thinking of Molly – who’d already thrown a couple of dolls and a swimming suit into her Trunki suitcase. Yes, she’d been a bit of a surprise when she’d arrived. The result of too much wine, a missed pill and caution being thrown to the wind. But she was so precious to me. And to her daddy, too. I’d give him that much. He was a doting father. It was almost as if he’d taken all the love and attention he used to give me and simply transferred it to his beautiful baby girl. I supposed she was easier to love than I was.

I yawned, glancing at the alarm clock. It would go off soon. The day would begin. And that’s when it swooped in again. The reality of what was happening. I’d have to go back to work. They’d only be understanding to a point – and I couldn’t let my pupils down – but the very thought of it intimidated me. My head was too full of the horror of what was happening in my life to stand in front of a classroom and pretend to be normal. This wasn’t normal.

I sat up, turned off the alarm clock before it beeped and made my way downstairs to make a coffee. I’d take this time to myself to gather my thoughts before the rest of the household woke.

Sitting at the kitchen table, coffee cup in hand, I scrolled through my phone. It was filled with messages about Clare, questions – people I’d barely spoken to in years wanting all the juicy gossip. Facebook wasn’t much better. A grief fest. Everyone who’d ever seen Clare before making a claim on her and how much they’d miss her.

There were no new leads from the police. There’d be a press conference in the afternoon. I wondered if Ronan and his parents were preparing to make a statement, after all. Would they be like those poor families you saw on TV, blinking and crying in front of all the flashing lights and cameras. Stunned by their grief and this horrendous way of getting fifteen minutes of fame.

Michael hadn’t replied to my message. The one where I’d thanked him for the flowers but urged discretion. I didn’t like that. It made me nervous. I chewed on my thumbnail as I contemplated calling him to make sure everything was okay. But it was barely gone seven in the morning and it would be risky to have a phone conversation in the house at this time. What if the girls woke? Or Paul?

I thought of Michael’s words to me just after we’d slept together. How he’d asked me whether I thought I deserved to be happy. Had what happened with Clare not shown me how life was short and I should grab at happiness?

It wasn’t as simple as that though, was it? I had daughters. A house. A job. A reputation. A mortgage, for goodness’ sake. I deleted my messages to ‘Michelle’ – I’d been selfish for wanting him … for needing him. Other people relied on me to be there for them. To be strong and stable. Even when things weren’t always going well.

For better and for worse, that was how it went, wasn’t it? Had I been looking for an easy escape from the harder times – fooling myself with romantic notions for a man who hadn’t even messaged me back?

I slipped my phone into my bag, finished my coffee and wondered quite what the hell I was doing with my life. Wondered if I was just a stupid woman enduring a midlife crisis and justifying my selfish actions to myself in whatever way I could. Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. After so many years of marriage. So many years of raising children and being sensible. Maybe I was stupid to expect anything more than simply working together like a team, managing the house and the family we’d created together. Stupid and vain and desperate for male attention. Why couldn’t I just be content with what I had?