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‘Mama? Please can you come and tuck me in?’ a voice called down from the top of the stairs. It was usually Millie who found excuses to call one of them up to her, but this time it was Isla’s voice.
‘Coming,’ Stella called back. She closed the lid of her laptop and headed up the stairs.
* * *
The sound of the key in the latch was enough to wake Stella from her sleep. She was still on the sofa, where she’d been since settling Isla hours before. She glanced at her watch. Simon had been out for almost three hours. She sat up, putting her hands to her face before pulling her hair back from it. Shaking her head gently, she blinked slowly, trying to bring herself back into the present.
She heard Simon walk straight through to the kitchen, despite the light being on in the sitting room beside her. Stella’s heart sank. Whatever it was that was bothering him, he was still clearly cross about it.
Percy came in and nudged her with his wet nose, looking at her with his deep brown eyes. Stella stroked his head a few times and got up slowly, switching off the lamp beside the sofa. She walked through to the kitchen; Simon stood with his back to her, waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘How was your walk?’
‘Fine.’ He stared down at his phone, then put it back in his pocket.
Stella took a seat at the same stool she’d been on earlier, the cold slab of dark marble between them suddenly seeming vast. ‘Simon, please look at me. I feel like I’ve done something to upset or annoy you and I don’t know what it is. If it’s about the tie…’
Simon sighed heavily, then turned to Stella. ‘It’s not the tie. Stella, I’m sorry, but I can’t stay here any more.’
Stella looked at him, waiting for him to say something else. Anything that might make those words make sense. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean I’ve got to leave.’
She searched his face for a look that would bring him back to her. But there was nothing, his face was impassive. ‘Si, please tell me what’s going on. I… I don’t understand.’
‘I’m sorry, but I just don’t feel the way I used to. About you, I mean.’
She shook her head, a metallic taste filling her mouth. ‘What are you saying? Why are you saying this? I don’t, I mean I can’t… What’s happened? Please, Simon, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.’ Her words tumbled out despite her efforts to put them in some sort of order. Her fingers trembled; her breath was short. She closed her eyes for a second, bright lights swam in front of them.
Nothing made sense. In a few seconds, Stella’s whole world had shifted so far off-kilter, she could barely stand. Here she was, sitting opposite the man she thought was the love of her life in the house of their dreams with their three children sleeping upstairs. Until just a few moments before, life had been pretty much perfect. But now, seeing his face, the indifference as she struggled to say anything that made sense, it was anything but. Simon looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there, in the kitchen, with Stella.
He picked up his small black holdall from the floor, the one he usually used when he went to the gym. He slung it over his shoulder, telling her he’d call the next day. And then he was gone.
Stella sat in silence for a while, staring at the door. Whether it was moments or longer, she really couldn’t tell. She went to stand but sank slowly to the floor, her legs unable to hold her weight. With her back resting against the island, she pulled her knees to her chest and then buried her face in her hands. Tears finally came, slowly at first, then falling uncontrollably, soaking through her fingers onto her clothes. Her cheeks burned; her heart raced. She wanted to scream, but no sound came.
Her thoughts turned to her children upstairs, asleep in their beds. What would she say to them in the morning? How could she tell them that their father had left because he didn’t feel like he used to about their mother? How on earth was that going to play out in their beautiful, uncomplicated minds? The very thought of it was enough to force Stella to her feet and race to the sink. She heaved into it, but nothing came. Just despair from the pit of her stomach.
She turned back and looked across at the table again, set for breakfast, just as she’d left it before falling asleep on the sofa waiting for Simon to return from walking the dog. Now she wondered what he’d been planning on that walk. He must have already packed that bag before taking Percy out, after his shower perhaps.
Stella walked over to the table, wanting to sweep everything on it to the floor. Instead, not wanting to wake the children, she took a seat at the head, the chair Simon usually sat in. She reached for her phone and dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail. She tried again and again, then went to send him a text message. She looked at the blinking cursor, not knowing what to say. Her fingers trembled as she typed.
Please tell me what’s happened? I don’t understand.
The message was delivered but unread. Moments later, she typed another, asking him to please come home, then another and another. All of them were left unread. Finally, her mind exhausted, she slumped her head on to the table and cried herself to sleep.
6
Stella woke with a jolt, sunlight streaming through the glass ceiling. It took her a few seconds to make sense of where she was. Then, with crushing force, the events of the previous evening came flooding back. She sat up, still in the chair she’d been in all night. Everything looked just the same. The island in the middle of the kitchen, the huge wooden fruit bowl, the enamel jug filled with flowers Stella had bought from the shop on the corner the previous day. She looked at them now, wishing she could take them back. Take herself back to the day before, knowing what she knew now.
But what did she know? Simon had walked out. Told her he didn’t love her any more. Or rather, didn’t feel the same way about her. What did that even mean? Did he still love her? Or was it just that he didn’t love her enough? What had she missed?
Questions crowded her mind. So many questions, but no answers.
Stella glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still early, time enough for her to go and shower and change before the children were up. She walked slowly to the kettle. Her back ached and her bones felt heavy, unsurprising given she’d slept at the kitchen table.
She heard footsteps above, one of the children on their way to the bathroom. She had to think, fast, about what to tell them. They’d wonder where he was; Simon was usually still there in the mornings. She reached for her phone and searched for her sister’s number. Hitting the call button, she listened for the ringing, imagining Caroline picking up and wondering what on earth Stella was doing calling this early.
Caroline answered immediately. ‘Hey, is everything all right?’
