The Missing Wife. Sam Carrington

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      ‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’ Her voice was muffled in Tiff’s white T-shirt.

      ‘Baby blues, love. They’ll pass. Come on, let’s get you a coffee.’

      Louisa left Noah, who was thankfully still asleep despite the movement of the pram ceasing, and followed Tiff into her huge kitchen, wiping her tears with her jumper sleeve as she walked.

      ‘Here.’ Tiff handed Louisa a small cube of coloured tissues. Louisa took a few sheets and swiped them across her nose, annoyed with herself for crying the second she’d walked in. She watched through tingling eyes as her friend of eight years filled the see-through kettle with bottled water – she didn’t trust tap water, convinced she’d get cancer from drinking it – and stared at the blue light radiating through the liquid.

      ‘So—’ Tiff turned to look at her ‘—I take it you’re not sleeping, looking at those bags.’

      Louisa couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Hah! Thanks, I feel better already!’

      ‘Sorry. I’d be a total mess if I were you. If I don’t get at least eight hours a night I’m a total bitch and I’d look like something from a horror movie.’

      ‘I doubt that, Tiff.’ She looked down at the scrunched ball of soggy tissue in her hand.

      ‘It’s a good job it doesn’t happen often, I can tell you.’

      The kettle clicked off, and Tiff busied herself making the two coffees. Louisa glanced around the kitchen. Her whole downstairs would fit in this space. Her thoughts turned to the text message, and how she could bring it up without making herself sound distrustful of her friend. Her only friend. Well, the only one that counted, anyway – she knew lots of people: colleagues from the accountancy firm she worked for, other mums of kids Emily’s age, and now some mums from her antenatal and baby groups. But she didn’t socialise with them. She wasn’t like Tiff, who had dozens of close friends and revelled in moving in different social circles. That would only stress Louisa. Keeping a single friend was difficult enough for her, always had been.

      ‘Any goss?’ Louisa asked. It was the best way of getting Tiff chatting, so that she could find an opportunity to slip in her question.

      ‘Ooh, well, yes, actually!’ Tiff planted the mugs on two glass coasters and flounced away, disappearing through the double doors that led to the lounge. She returned, laptop in her hands. ‘Did you see this?’ Tiff twisted the screen to face Louisa. Sarah Weaver’s Facebook profile was displayed.

      ‘Oh, what’s going on with her?’ Louisa squinted at the page as Tiff reached around the laptop and scrolled down to Sarah’s latest status update.

      ‘Life is too short to be with people who hold you back. Embrace change. Don’t be afraid to turn the page of your own story or you’ll never reach the next chapter.’

      ‘Okay, it’s a bit deep – but I don’t understand, what’s wrong with it? It’s just some motivational quote.’

      ‘Haven’t you been keeping up? Don’t you realise what this means?’

      Louisa sighed. Keeping up with Facebook wasn’t something that had occurred to her during the last three months of sleep-deprived baby tasks. She hadn’t been that great with social media prior to Noah’s birth, but the most she used the internet for at the moment was searching for ‘how to prevent colic’ or ‘tricks to make him sleep like a baby’. As well as the chat rooms on Mumsnet – they were her current lifeline. Not the goings-on with friends-who-weren’t-even-real-friends on bloody Facebook. If it wasn’t for Tiff having set up her Facebook profile in the first place, she’d never have bothered with it. Fake lives and fake friends were not her thing.

      ‘It’s not something I’ve been compelled to do, no. I’ve been a little preoccupied …’

      ‘Well, yes, I guess. You are useless at posting anyway, and you never respond to my posts, even if I tag you.’

      ‘Sorry.’ It was quicker and easier to apologise rather than get into a debate about the negative aspects of splashing your life online.

      ‘Not to worry. Anyway, I digress. Back to Sarah. After being “found out” last month, she’s been keeping a low profile. But then, this. It has to mean she’s still seeing Mark, doesn’t it? We’re all going to the school fundraiser on Wednesday evening, so no doubt I will find out more then.’ Tiff looked pleased with herself. She and Sarah had history and it was no secret they’d clashed over who was better at organising village events – whether it was for the primary school, the cottage garden society show or the church fund, Tiff liked doing it all. Without much help. And certainly not from Sarah Weaver, who she viewed as a nuisance and someone who put barriers up where there shouldn’t be any (even if she was right). Tiff liked to think of herself as THE fundraising organiser of the village – the best and only ‘go-to’ person there was. Anything that put Sarah, her main competition to this title, in a poor light was a good outcome as far as she was concerned. So, if there were rumours, Tiff wasn’t likely to do anything other than fan the flames.

      Despite Tiff not having any children, let alone at the school, she’d managed to get in with the head teacher by volunteering to read with some of the younger pupils. Louisa suspected that Tiff’s stated motive for doing it – so she could organise events – was only part of the reason. From some of the conversations they’d had over the years, Louisa deduced that Tiff regretted her decision not to have a family and now believed this was her way of being a part of something she felt she was missing out on. The fact she could be so pushy, and even hoity about it, always came as a surprise to Louisa.

      She often wondered how they’d become such good friends. They’d met at a mutual friend’s wedding eight years ago and somehow just clicked. As unlikely a friendship as it was, and a total surprise to Brian, they’d remained close ever since. Maybe it was because Louisa posed no threat to Tiff’s aspirations: Louisa was never going to want to be an organiser of anything because she didn’t even like events or parties. If she was coerced into going to one, she’d be the person keeping quiet in the corner of the room, drinking an orange juice and looking lost. Tiff was welcome to the attention.

      Louisa was suddenly aware she was meant to be offering an answer – responding to Tiff’s assumptions about Sarah’s extramarital affair in the way her friend wanted her to. As this finally sank in, Louisa realised it gave her an opportunity to bring up the real reason she’d visited today.

      ‘Let me get this right,’ Louisa said. ‘You think Sarah has been having an affair with Mark – her best friend’s husband?’

      ‘Er … yes! I know you’ve been off the scene for a bit, but how come you’ve missed all of that? It’s not like we live in a big village – it’s tiny, and everyone knows everyone. I don’t know, Louisa – sometimes you disappoint me.’ She shook her head. ‘And anyway, I thought we talked about this last time we had coffee?’

      ‘I don’t remember …’

      ‘Baby brain,’ Tiff mocked. ‘Anyway, how evil is that?’

      This was Louisa’s chance to mention the text. But with Tiff’s obvious distaste for what Sarah had done, why then would she be doing the same to Louisa? Although, it was always easier to judge someone else’s actions rather than your own. And she may only be reacting to this because it was Sarah, not because she actually felt it was evil.

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