The Missing Wife. Sam Carrington

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       7

       THE DECOY

       Friday p.m.

      Tiff’s car – a volcano-red Audi A8, so she’d informed Louisa when she’d bought it brand new – drew up outside at smack on five. Louisa watched from the window as Tiff got out, perfectly dressed as usual, her Ray-Ban sunglasses on, despite the March weather being quite dull. Louisa looked down at her own ensemble: the same jeans she’d been wearing all week and a plain black baggy T-shirt. She should’ve made more effort, but then again, it was meant to be a relaxing night away so it didn’t really matter what she wore.

      Brian had come home from work early and taken Noah out for a walk – Emily begrudgingly went with them. Louisa had said her goodbyes. In her head, she repeated, It’s only one night. She knew it could only do her good.

      She’d made sure her cigarettes and tablets were in her bag – she’d already taken two tablets that morning as a precaution, knowing her anxiety levels would be increasing. Checking the freezer, she noted there was a good stack of frozen milk, even more than she’d thought. How had she pumped off that much? As far as she could tell, her milk production had slowed to the degree she was considering supplementing Noah with formula. At least she didn’t have to worry about him going hungry. The bottles were freshly sterilised. All was taken care of. She popped two more tablets out of the aluminium pack, swallowed them without water, and threw the packet back into her handbag as she thrust it over her shoulder and walked towards the front door.

      ‘Hi, hun! You not ready yet?’ Tiff said as she embraced Louisa, then stood back to take in her appearance.

      ‘Er … yes. I didn’t see the point in dressing up,’ Louisa said.

      ‘No, no I guess not. Have you packed anything else?’ Tiff’s frown said it all.

      ‘I’ve got another T-shirt.’ Louisa held up the small overnight bag she’d found in the back of the wardrobe and that she’d stuffed with minimal supplies.

      ‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and grab something nice for later – a dress or something.’

      ‘For later? I was planning on sleeping later, Tiff.’

      ‘Yes, yes. Of course. I thought I’d treat you to a nice dinner though, before you bed down for the night. You’re looking pasty lately, like you’re in need of a good meal. And you know, a drink or two, which I’m sure will help you settle quicker.’ She smiled.

      Louisa knew it was futile to argue so she bounded up the stairs, pulled her old faithful off the hanger – a flower-print jersey dress – and shoved it inside her bag. She grabbed her make-up bag too. Pasty. She would make a small effort, just to get Tiff off her back.

      ‘Right, let’s go!’ Tiff was out of the door before Louisa could say anything.

      The room was small but adequate. Louisa had often been to the restaurant and bar at Court Farm but living so close meant there’d never been a need to stay. It felt weird to be sleeping away from home when it was only two miles away. She really hoped she felt better after tonight; Brian would be so disappointed if his plan didn’t work, but Louisa knew that she’d need far more than one night for a difference to be made.

      A knock interrupted her thoughts. Louisa opened the door to Tiff.

      ‘My plan is that you shower now, dress up, slap on some war paint and we hit the bar in an hour. Sound good?’

      ‘Well, I guess.’ Anxiety coursed through her body like a rapidly spreading virus. It seemed a lot to do in an hour, and the double bed with its fluffy pillows and crisp, clean bed linen looked really inviting.

      ‘I’ll go and get some wine. It’ll be like old times, getting ready to go out.’ Tiff’s enthusiasm made Louisa smile in spite of her misgivings. When they’d first been friends, Tiff regularly dragged Louisa out on a Friday night – not clubbing, those times were long gone – but they’d go into Newton, traipse from one pub to another, Tiff drinking more than was sensible, and they’d have a good laugh. It was the time getting ready at Tiff’s house that used to make Louisa’s night. She always went to Tiff’s because there, Louisa had no one making any demands on her: she could avoid Emily’s bedtime and leave the calming-down period and story-telling to Brian, so it was more fun. She’d have been fine with just that, not even bothering to go out. Louisa wasn’t much of a drinker, not since her college days. She’d allow Tiff to get her a drink now, though. One wouldn’t hurt, and it wasn’t as though she had to feed Noah.

      ‘Okay. I’d better jump in the shower then.’

      ‘Excellent,’ Tiff said as she did a dramatic twirl and left the room. Louisa took out the dress she’d squashed into her bag, brushing it down and hoping the creases wouldn’t be too visible once it was on her. This could be just what she needed – a shower in complete peace, a few hours of being ‘normal’, a nice meal, a good natter and an entire night of undisturbed sleep. Just in case though, she would take a couple more of the pills. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity of getting rest by lying awake all night worrying. Her mind always came alive the second her head hit the pillow, so it was worth having a back-up. She swallowed the capsules with water from the tap and went into the bathroom.

      Tiff had convinced Louisa to have two glasses of wine while they were getting ready, and her head now felt woozy. She should’ve waited to eat before having the second. They made their way out of the accommodation building, which, just as Brian had told her, was adjacent to the pub. Tiff had her head down, busy texting. Louisa prickled, irritated that Tiff couldn’t stay off her mobile for even a few hours. Louisa shook her head. She hoped tonight wasn’t a mistake. Shuffling along behind Tiff, who was now quite forcibly pushing through some people standing at the bar, Louisa kept her head lowered. An uncomfortable sensation rippled through her; she didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, suddenly feeling exposed – everyone staring at her.

      ‘We’ve got a table in the upstairs room,’ Tiff said, finally turning to face Louisa and ushering her up the stairs first. Louisa was glad to be escaping the busy, noisy bar area to the more subdued upstairs. She stumbled on the steps, grabbing the rail to regain her balance. Two wines mixed with the tablets was clearly not the best of ideas.

      Nearing the top of the stairs, Louisa’s chest tightened. Tied to the bannister, floating ominously, were a couple of Happy 40th Birthday balloons. Her feet refused to move forward, but Tiff nudged her on.

      ‘Go on, it’s all right,’ she coaxed.

      The room, which a moment ago was quiet, erupted into a frenzied noise of singing.

       Oh, God no.

      Her eyes darted around, her brain attempting to put it all together. What the hell? Her birthday wasn’t for another two weeks so this must be for someone else. As the out-of-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ continued, Louisa noticed that balloons displaying the big 4-0 adorned every table. The room was filled with people she didn’t recognise, who all appeared to be clapping and cheering for her. The dizziness returned, threatening СКАЧАТЬ