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Stella thought back to their exchanges the night before, searching for a clue, something to make it fall into place.
‘I found a tie.’
‘What tie?’
‘One I hadn’t seen before. I asked him where it came from, he said he couldn’t remember.’
‘That’s hardly a reason to walk out.’ Bridget laughed, the thought of it so ridiculous.
‘I know. Which is why I think I must be missing something. It just doesn’t make sense. I can’t even…’ Stella ran out of words.
‘OK, I’ll come over now. Give me half an hour, then you can go to football with Max. I’ll hang out with the girls.’
‘Thank you.’ Stella felt a wave of relief. At least she could try to pretend that everything was fine for the children, even if it was just for one day. It felt like she was buying time to get to Simon, to find out what was going on, for him to explain. If she could only talk to him, she’d be able to make him see that whatever he was going through, they could do it together. From the moment they’d met, they’d been such a team. Together they could do anything: build a home, a family, a business.
Looking around the quiet kitchen, Stella wondered how she’d found herself in this horrible nightmare. She shut her eyes tightly for a moment.
‘Mama?’
Stella opened her eyes to see Isla looking up at her, her hair a mass of tangled blond curls. One side of her face was flushed red, crease marks from her sheets still imprinted on them.
‘Hello, you.’ Stella reached down and gave her daughter a hug, wondering how he could have left them. If he didn’t love her any more, so be it. But not the children. That wasn’t fair. She wanted to scream it out loud. Instead, she held Isla closer for a moment before letting her go and trying to act like it was any other Saturday morning. ‘What would you like for breakfast? I’m thinking pancakes, what do you reckon?’
Isla’s eyes lit up. ‘Yes please!’
‘OK, I’ll wake Max and we’ll have some before I take him to football.’
‘Where’s Daddy?’ Isla rubbed her eyes, yawning.
Stella’s throat seemed to constrict in an instant. ‘He’s had to go to work this morning.’ She busied herself looking for a jug in the cupboard, not wanting to make eye contact.
‘But it’s Saturday. Why is he working today?’ Isla took herself over to the table and climbed onto the seat, the same one where Stella had cried herself to sleep just hours before.
Stella took a deep breath. She’d just have to tell a few white lies for now, until Simon came home and told her it was all going to be OK. That it was all a big mistake and not to worry, he’d realised he’d been an idiot. That here was where he wanted to be, with Stella, with his children. ‘He’s just very busy in the office at the moment. He’ll be back later.’ Stella winced slightly at the words, hating the fact that, actually, she didn’t know when he’d be back. If he’d be back, even.
‘Poor Daddy, that’s not fair. Having to go to work on a Saturday.’ Isla reached for the cereal on the table, taking out a handful of cornflakes and eating them from the palm of her little hand, like crisps.
Stella could feel the tears threatening to fall again. ‘Darling, go and wake Millie up so she can have pancakes too. And Max, while you’re up there.’ She looked at the clock. It was nearly eight o’clock and, as if on cue, Percy started whining at the front door. ‘Yes, all right. We’ll go soon,’ she called.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Stella’s heart leapt. But then, Simon wouldn’t knock. He’d just come straight in. He lived here, after all.
She went to the door and opened it to find Bridget standing on the doorstep, her coat thrown over her pyjamas, sliders on her feet. She still had her bed socks on.
‘I took a cab.’ Bridget grabbed Stella into a hug.
Stella sank into her friend’s embrace. ‘Thank you.’ For a moment, everything felt just the tiniest bit better.
* * *
The morning passed in a blur. Stella took Max to his usual Saturday football training session on the common, taking the dog with her. She watched from the side-lines, standing some way down from the other parents, sunglasses firmly in place. She’d left Bridget at home with the girls, all happily tucking into seconds of pancakes with plans to head to the sofa and watch TV in their pyjamas afterwards.
Stella hadn’t been able to talk to Bridget about what had happened in any detail before she left, but with Caroline heading to pick the children up for the night, Stella knew there’d be time later. It was just a matter of getting through the next few hours.
She tried to concentrate on watching Max, but her hand gripped her phone tightly in her coat pocket, willing it to vibrate with an incoming message from Simon. The list of things Stella was worrying about was growing at pace. What if he wasn’t coming back? What would she tell the children? It all felt so unreal. Just over twelve hours before, everything was normal. And now, everything she thought she knew had been thrown into question. She tried to breathe deeply, pushing down the panic rising in her chest.
A cheer came up from the small crowd watching the practice game. Stella looked up to see Max running down the side of the pitch, closely followed by his team, all slapping him on the back. He’d obviously just scored a goal and she’d missed it. He waved across at her and Stella waved back, giving him a thumbs up. The thought of Simon walking out on them made her feel sick. She wanted to take all the hurt and not let any of it touch her children. But if he didn’t come back, she’d have to tell them sooner or later. She felt a wave of anger at the thought of it, her heart beating faster.
‘What a cracking goal.’
