The Optician's Wife (10 page)

I read fifty more pages before realising the throb in my stomach wasn’t going away. It was getting stronger. Putting my book back down on the coffee table I paced backwards and forwards to ease my discomfort. Waddling a bit like a penguin, I made my way up the stairs to the nursery to look at my hospital bag and double-check I had everything I needed.

The baby wasn’t due for a few weeks but I knew I was in the early stages of labour. Standing in the yellow box room I stared down at the refurbished cot. Larry had done a wonderful job. He was so talented and clever. It looked new. That was the first time that it really dawned on me how much my life was going to change. The next time I stood in that room there would be a new life in the world. A life I was responsible for.

Larry was twenty-four years old. I had only turned eighteen in October. Suddenly I felt very sick. I put it down to the labour and tried to ignore the claustrophobic fear that had its hands around my throat.

Unable to face being in the same room as the cot I took myself downstairs and drank a large glass of cold water from the kitchen tap. Outside in the garden a blackbird hopped around on the cold ground looking for food. The frost had thawed leaving a thin wet layer over everything.

Listening to the silence in the house unnerved me. I didn’t want to be alone. I went back into the lounge and wondered if it was too soon to call Larry. It was only eleven o’clock and my labour hadn’t really taken off yet. Still, I wanted him there, but the fear of upsetting him stopped me from picking up the phone. Larry had given me the telephone number for Rook’s so I could call in an emergency. Did this class as an emergency? No. Not yet. I would suffer alone until it became too much.

A book from the library about labour and birth had taught me that I needed to wait until the contractions were five minutes apart or my waters had broken before showing up at the labour ward. Neither of these things had happened yet so I sat back down and picked up my book. I couldn’t really concentrate but I had to do something. Clock-watching would have driven me mad.

I sat alone in the house for hours, dealing with the increasing pain until three twenty-five when I felt a rush of wetness down the inside of my legs. My waters had broken. Although my contractions were not yet that close together, I thought it best to call Larry.

I picked up the phone and dialled the number he had scribbled on a piece of paper.

‘Hello Rook’s Opticians.’ Mr Rook’s voice travelled down the line.

‘Oh, hello, Mr Rook. It’s Deborah, Deborah Miller. Can I speak to Larry please?’

‘He’s just taking a payment from a customer. Can I pass on a message?’

‘Would you mind if I held on?’ I wasn’t doing a very good job of disguising the panic in my voice.

‘Is everything all right, dear?’ The old man asked.

‘Yes. I just need to talk to Larry.’

‘He might be a few minutes. Why don’t I get him to call you back when he’s done?’

‘OK. That’s fine. Thank you, Mr Rook.’

‘I’ll pass the message on the moment he’s finished with Mrs Rice.’

‘Thank you.’ I put the receiver down and hoped the old man didn’t forget to tell Larry to call.

Minutes later the phone rang.

‘Larry?’ I picked up the receiver hoping to hear his voice.

‘Everything OK, Dee?’

‘Everything’s fine. It’s just I think my waters have broken.’

There was a long silence.

‘Are you sure? You’re not due for a few weeks.’

‘I know. I’m fairly certain.’

‘OK. Go and get your hospital bag and jump on a bus. I’ll meet you at the entrance.’

‘You aren’t going to collect me?’

‘No point. It will take longer for me to get home and for us to go in the car. And the car park will be expensive. Just get a bus.’ He was always the sensible one.

‘OK.’ I was embarrassed that my clothes were wet. ‘I’ll change and then walk to the bus stop.’

‘Good girl. I’ll be there soon.’ The line went dead.

When I arrived at the hospital Larry was waiting outside, in the cold, just like he’d said he would. Putting his arm around my shoulder he led me inside. Reception directed us to the labour ward where a friendly-faced midwife greeted us. She showed us to a room that had two unoccupied beds in it.

I was handed a gown and told to get changed. Larry sat down on the chair near the bed, folded his hands behind his head and put his feet up on the clean sheets. I was too uncomfortable to lie down so I stood bent over the bed huffing and puffing.

A little while later the midwife returned and told me she needed to check how dilated I was. I felt like a prize cow, lying on my back with a strange woman’s hand feeling about in a place meant only for Larry. She said I was five centimetres and I still had a while to go. I dreaded how bad the pain was going to get, as I sucked hard on the gas and air from a tube attached to a large metal canister.

Seven hours later, at ten fifty-five pm, our first child was born with the help of forceps. They had to cut me to get her out. It would not be the last time she caused me trouble.

Sue-Ann weighted six pounds and two ounces. She had a thick head of dark hair, just like her father. Larry cried when he held her in his arms. I lay there exhausted and in pain watching father and daughter meet for the first time. I just felt numb inside.

By May 1986 our life had changed even more. In March, a few months earlier, I gave birth to our son, Robert ‘Robbie’ Miller. He was difficult child and cried continuously. What with Sue-Ann walking and getting into everything and Robbie refusing to sleep through the night, I was a shell of the girl I’d once been.

Larry had been working hard and passed his exams. He was a fully-fledged optician. Mr Rook made him a junior partner and increased his salary. I was so incredibly proud. We had more money coming in but I never saw the benefits of any of it, until Larry announced that he’d put down a deposit on a house.

His parents divorced in 1985 after a miserable final few years together. The separation had been messy. Linda acquired a lawyer who persuaded her to go for everything in the settlement. Jim, who was by then an unemployed teacher with a career in tatters, didn’t put up a fight. After the divorce was finalised he moved back to Peterborough alone. Linda sold the house and moved to Bournemouth. I was so pleased not to have her breathing down my neck. She wanted a new start, away from Jim and the shame of it all, and before she left she gave a chunk of money each to Larry and Eric. Linda wanted to know she was leaving her children with some financial security.

Eric quickly pissed his away his on cheap women and gambling. Larry hardly ever saw him although he said they used to meet up in a pub from time to time. Eric was as hopeless an uncle as he was a brother and a son. He couldn’t hold down a job and got by doing dodgy deals. At the time I suspected he might have been involved in drugs.

Occasionally, for some unknown reason, Eric would show up at the house and come in for a cuppa. This usually always happened when Larry was at work. I think Eric missed his mother and liked having a woman he could talk to. I didn’t mention our coffee mornings to Larry. It would only have upset him.

Spending time with Eric I got to know him properly. He wasn’t the rogue I’d always thought he was. Sure, he didn’t lead a conventional life and he would rather make a living doing something illegal than hold down a proper job but I came to realise he was the product of his parents. Larry had always been the golden boy. Linda and Jim, on the other hand, had written off Eric at a young age. He wasn’t academic or ambitious and that frustrated them. I could relate to how he was made to feel growing up and I saw a softer side of him. He was the perfect example of self-fulfilling prophecy.

On that Saturday morning Larry woke up in an unusually good mood. He made us breakfast, bacon sandwiches, and even changed Sue-Ann’s nappy. I was so tired from the night feeds that I felt like a zombie wondering around in someone else’s life.

‘I’ve arranged with Mr Rook that I can have the day off. I’m due some holiday time.’ The smell of frying bacon filled our small chaotic kitchen. I had tried to keep up with the housework but I was so worn down by the children that I’d lost control of the place. The sink was full, the surfaces dirty and the floor hadn’t been mopped for far too long.

In the early days of our marriage Larry used to worry about the appearance of the house and I worked hard keeping it neat to please him. Looking around at the mess I wondered when everything changed.

As Larry stood cooking breakfast Sue-Ann sat at his feet munching on a piece of bread he had given her. She wore a faded pink vest that was covered in stains. Her chubby little fingers forced the food into her mouth.

‘I’ve got a surprise.’ Larry turned to me with a boyish smile and I was reminded of the man I fell in love with.

‘Oh?’ I tried my best to sound enthusiastic but I was too exhausted to muster the effort.

‘We’re going on a little trip.’ Larry placed the bacon butties down on the table and handed Sue-Ann a sliver of back bacon out of his own sandwich. Sticky ketchup covered her chin. ‘Eat up, put a dress on and get the kids ready. We’re leaving at nine-thirty.’ He chewed with his mouth open and I watched the meat being ground up between his teeth.

‘OK.’ Robbie was hanging off my exposed breast. Using my free hand, I picked up the food took one bite and then pushed the plate away. Any desire I’d once had to please Larry no longer existed. It had evaporated, along with the confidence I’d found when we met.

Carrying Robbie in one arm and Sue-Ann with the other I went upstairs, leaving behind my food and half-drunk cup of tea. I didn’t much feel like getting dressed and would have happily spent the day in my dressing gown but Larry seemed so excited and, even though I envied his energy, I didn’t want to burst his bubble.

Pushing the nursery door open using my foot I was greeted by yet more mess. Dirty baby-grows and used nappies lay on the floor by the changing mat. I put Robbie down in Sue-Ann’s cot. He immediately started to cry but I ignored it as I searched through the chest of drawers for something clean for her to wear. At the back of the drawer there was a brand new outfit Trisha had given her that had somehow been forgotten. It was a sweet little yellow dress with a duck on the front. The label said it was for twelve to eighteen months and I held it up. It looked a bit for small for her but it would have to do.

She wriggled on her changing mat, refusing to lie on her back. With one elbow I leant on her chest to hold her still while I managed to twist her arm into one of the holes. Sue-Ann gave out a little cry but I was too tired to feel any guilt. Once the dress was over her head I left her blubbing on the floor while I dealt with Robbie who was screaming in the cot. His little face had turned beetroot red. Flinging him over my shoulder and patting his back in a half-hearted attempt to soothe him I carried him into the other bedroom, leaving Sue-Ann alone on the floor to entertain herself.

Our bedroom was at the very top of the stairs I could hear Larry downstairs in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and gargling. Closing the door behind me I placed Robbie down on the bed and went in search of clothes. Larry wanted me to wear a dress, so I would wear a dress.

As I opened the cupboard the door almost came off its hinges. The landlord, had neglected Gunhild Way over the months, and it was beginning to show.

Flicking through the hangers I eventually found a denim dress and pulled it roughly down. I’d bought it from a charity shop a few weeks earlier. To my disappointment I discovered I was a size sixteen. In those days that was really big. It was no wonder Larry hardly ever looked at me. It was a miracle Robbie was conceived. It must have been the only time he had touched me in months.

I dropped my dressing gown to the floor and stood looking at myself in the mirror. I had on a flesh coloured nursing bar and grey pants, that were once white. The dimples in my fat tummy revolted me and I noticed, for the first time, how many stretch marks I had.

My hair had grown and was shapeless and my roots needed some serious attention.

Robbie lay on the bed behind me gargling to himself. He and Sue-Ann had done this to me. Trying not to drown in my own resentment I turned away from the mirror and continued getting dressed. I didn’t bother to change my underwear, even though I had been wearing the same set for days. None of it mattered any more.

I went back into the nursery to retrieve Sue-Ann, who had moved over to a chair and was trying to climb on to it, before taking both kids downstairs.

Larry was waiting impatiently in the kitchen, his arms folded across his chest. He was wearing his jeans and old Timberland-style boots.

‘Ready?’

‘Yup.’ I handed him Sue-Ann and grabbed muslin to throw over my shoulder, in case Robbie was sick.

Stepping out in the spring air I took a long deep breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left the house.

Larry put Sue-Ann in the back of the car and strapped her seatbelt on. In those days we didn’t have all the rules and regulations that exist now. I sat in the front passenger seat and held on to Robbie who was starting to drift off. Larry got into the driver’s seat and started the engine of his burgundy Ford Cortina. Before pulling out of our concrete driveway he leant over, planted a kiss on my cheek and squeezed my knee. I was dumbstruck. What had come over him?

We drove into the city in silence. Staring out of the window I watched people go about their daily business. I felt so removed from the world.

Larry double-parked on St Andrew’s Street.

‘I need to stop here for a minute and pick something up. Won’t be long,’ He slammed the car door loudly and disappeared up the high street. The noise woke Robbie who screamed with protest.

Undoing the buttons on my denim dress I unclipped one side of my nursing bra and shoved a nipple into his mouth. It shut him up instantly. Peace again.

Moments later Larry returned. He didn’t appear to have anything with him.