You’d never guess that Fliss Chapron doesn’t have it all

All Fliss wants is to see two blue lines telling her she is pregnant with her much longed for second baby. But as the negative tests stack up, dreams of completing her perfect family feel more hopeless every day.

After years of disappointment, Fliss’s husband Ben is spending more time at the office than in their marital bed, and Fliss finds herself wondering who could be responsible for their inability to conceive another child. Yet, where do you lay the blame when it comes to having a child – and can anyone really be at fault…

As Ben becomes increasingly distant, Fliss begins to question whether her desire for a baby is just a sticking plaster to save her marriage. Because in the end, how well can you ever know another person…even the man you’re married to?

Waiting for You is an emotional and gripping debut novel you won’t be able to put down…

Waiting for You

Catherine Miller

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2016

Copyright © Catherine Miller 2016

Catherine Miller asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © March 2016 ISBN: 9781474047302

Version date: 2018-09-19

CATHERINE MILLER

When Catherine became a mum to twins, she decided her hands weren’t full enough so wrote a novel with every spare moment she managed to find. By the time the twins were two, Catherine had a two-book deal with HQ Digital. There is a possibility she has aged remarkably in that time.

Catherine was an NHS physiotherapist, but for health reasons (Uveitis and Sarcoidosis) she retired early from this career. As she loved her physiotherapy job, she decided if she couldn’t do that, she would pursue her writing dream. It took a few years and a couple of babies, but in 2015 she won the Katie Fforde bursary, was a finalist in the London Book Fair Write Stuff Competition and highly commended in Woman magazine’s writing competition. Soon afterwards she signed with HQ Digital. Soon after that, she collapsed in a heap and was eventually revived by chocolate.

Catherine is one eighth of the award-winning bloggers, The Romaniacs: https://theromaniacgroup.wordpress.com/

You can follow Catherine on Twitter @katylittlelady

This book has been a while in the making - from the initial idea in 2012 to managing to find the time to write when I became a new mum to twins in 2013 - so I have lots of people to thank. Firstly my husband, Dan. You are a great dad and a wonderfully supportive husband and I probably don’t tell you that often enough so please take this statement and frame it. Our gorgeous daughters, Eden and Amber, you make every day special and I’m truly blessed that you are mine. I’ve dedicated this book to you both as not only do I love you tremendously, you have also gifted me the ability to never procrastinate. To all my family and friends for their patience and support with special mentions to: Monana, Great, Uncle B, Paul, Wendy, Kat, Chrissie, Barbara and Pat – the last couple of years would have been a lot harder/impossible without your help.

I owe a lot of thanks to the Romantic Novelists’ Association’s New Writers’ Scheme. Without the guidance and support I’ve received over the past five years, I wouldn’t have made it to graduation. A special thanks to my very encouraging reader for the past two years – you know who you are. And along with those anonymous readers, I also need to thank some of the people who have been writing mentors to me over the past several years: Sue Moorcroft, Katie Fforde, Amanda Jennings, Penny Legg, Simon Whaley and Rowan Coleman. I think every writer I’ve met has assisted me along the way so a big thank you to all my writing friends, especially the HQ Digital crew.

For powering me through the past few years I would like to thank The AWESOME Romaniacs: Laura E James, Sue Fortin, Vanessa Savage, Celia J Anderson, Lucie Wheeler, Debbie Fuller-White and Jan Brigden. Without your daily input, honks and all round sparkle my life would be incomplete.

For help with research I need to thank Rob Goodwin of Champagne Film for patiently answering my questions.

I also need to give a shout out to all the twin mums at Shirley Double Delights and more. Twin mums and dads rock and you are all testament to that. And a big WHOOP to Liz and all of the Millbrook Slimming World group.

Finally, I have to thank my editor, Victoria, because from the very start she loved this book and her input has made the story even better. I would like to bottle the encouragement she provides as it is immense. I would also like to take the opportunity to add all the little kisses I want to add to the end of my emails to Victoria, but am too busy acting like I’m a professional to do so. I’ve been holding back so here they are: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

And if you have made it this far, Dear Reader, I want to thank you for choosing this book. For helping it to grow wings and start its journey in to the world. I’ve loved writing it; I hope you love reading it just as much… Oh, go on then. Here are a few for you… xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For my darling daughters, Amber and Eden

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

This time, Fliss used a vase. It was possible this would be the lucky vessel. Over the years it had held many sentiments: flowers of celebration, bouquets of apology and now it contained a rich, yellow brew that represented her future hopes. Fliss dipped the stick in and started the count to ten. One Elephant. Two Elephant.

‘Muuuummmmmm – I’m hungry,’ Hollie said, from the other side of the door.

‘Go play with your toys and I’ll make breakfast in a minute,’ Fliss said. Three Ellie. Four Ellie. She sped the next two up hoping the interruption wouldn’t interfere with her accuracy. Five Elephant. Six Elephant.

‘But Mummmmmmmmmm.’

Seven Elephant.

‘Hollie, I’m on the toilet. Now go and do as I’ve told you before Mummy gets annoyed.’ Eight Ellie. Her daughter hadn’t moved and was scraping about on the landing. ‘One...’ She started the countdown to the naughty step and wondered why Hollie would choose now to be disobedient. Nine Ellie. Was it nine? She’d forgotten where she was at. ‘TWO...’ The force in her voice was more effective this time and soft footsteps traipsed along the landing. Ten Elephant. It must be ten, right?

She pulled the stick out of the vase, popped the cap on, placed it on the side and wondered what to do for the next two minutes. She could go downstairs and make a start on Hollie’s breakfast, but then her daughter could do with learning a little patience. Besides, if she did that, there was no way she’d be back in time for an accurate result. All the packages said you had to disregard the test after ten minutes.

She looked at her watch. Time was standing still and Hollie was up to her familiar trick of doing as she was told for all of ten seconds. ‘I know you’re not in your bedroom, Hollie.’

Fliss fiddled with the door handle with the desired effect: her six-year-old daughter now running to her bedroom.

One minute and counting. Fliss should have waited for her husband, Ben, to be with her, but if she did that, well, she spent far too much of her life hanging round for him. Far better to quash her suspicions now before becoming convinced, only for her irregular period to arrive and crush her hopes. And it was only her that seemed to be crushed each time it happened. Ben often commented on how she should concentrate on the daughter they did have, not become obsessed by something that may never happen. That was the problem she’d found with Ben; he always wanted to get his point across but rarely listened to what she had to say. As her own unquenched desire wasn’t a strong enough argument, she started to point out Hollie’s recent behaviour in a bid to prove she needed a sibling. It would stop the only-child syndrome from developing. He batted her off with, ‘We’re still trying. If it happens, it happens.’

Fliss wished she could be so complacent about it. Like the two minutes she was waiting now; she could really do with having Ben’s cool attitude. Why did her entire life seem to pass by in a hurry right until she needed something to speed up? She glared at her watch as the final fifteen seconds strummed round in a slow and irritating fashion. As the last seconds closed in, Fliss looked for something lucky to hold on to. Hollie’s toothbrush with its princess handle glimmered at her and she grabbed it with her left hand. The ritual was getting stupid, she realised. She picked the stick up with her right hand and levelled it in front of her closed eyes. Could it be that perhaps this time it was going to be different? She visualised the two blue lines in her head. Positive thinking, that’s what would get her through. Believing, at some point, this would truly happen. She saw the positive result and imagined the way it would feel. She remembered the way it had felt when she’d found out about Hollie. Not-long-married, in their expensive, not-family-orientated flat, Ben and Fliss, being on the wrong side of thirty, had been eager to start a family. They’d never for a minute thought it would happen straightaway. When her period didn’t come they rushed to the chemist late at night; she peed into a small decorative bowl, held on to a plastic duck while they waited for the result and then there they were: those two solid blue lines. She’d wept tears of joy at the news then jumped (somewhat cautiously) around the flat blurting out ‘I’m going to be a mum!’, ‘You’re going to be a dad!’, and ‘We’re going to be parents!’ until she’d made herself dizzy and had to sit down, and still the news hadn’t sunk in.

That was how it was going to be this time. She’d call Ben straightaway; they’d both be bowled over by the news. He’d rush from London so they could celebrate and he’d take the rest of the week off so he could spend it with his family.

Quickly (because she’d learnt it was better that way), Fliss opened her eyes to see the results. Even though she knew that one line meant no and two lines meant yes, she still felt the need to double-check the instructions. One line. Negative.

She flung the test into the sink. ‘I knew I wasn’t.’ She said it accusingly to the stick responsible for delivering the blow. ‘Stupid me for even checking.’

‘Muuummmm, why are you stupid?’

Trust Hollie not to miss a trick. ‘Go downstairs, baby, and I’ll be there in a second. I’ll make you blueberry pancakes if you’re good.’

‘Ace!’

Hollie clattered down the stairs giving Fliss a moment of peace. She spent it clearing away the evidence. Vase emptied, cleaned thoroughly (in the hope she hadn’t ruined any future bouquet’s prospects), she threw the negative test into the bin in her bedroom and checked her expression to make sure the news hadn’t had an effect on her features. She pulled at the skin around her eyes in the hope of stretching some of the wrinkles out. Time was beginning to be cruel to her crow’s feet.

Bravado, that’s what she needed. She pasted a cheery smile on her face and told herself it didn’t matter. Next time it would be different. Surely she could get Ben to be true to his word and take some annual leave for her fertile week.

Downstairs, Hollie waited with her usual neediness. ‘Get a bowl out of the cupboard then, Hols.’

‘You said pancakes.’

Yes, if you were good, Fliss thought, but bit her tongue before starting a showdown. ‘Silly me, how could I forget. Get some cutlery for the table then, sweetheart.’ Her tone attempting to coax her daughter into doing as she was told.

The corners of Hollie’s mouth dipped and Fliss prepared to do battle armed with a bowl and whisk. It seemed impossible that her daughter was able to manipulate her in almost every way. She knew exactly how to press Fliss’s buttons and it was hard to admit that most of the time she gave in, just for an easy life. Ben didn’t help matters. He spoilt her on the weekends when they would all go and do whatever it was that Hollie wanted.

She took her frustrations out on the batter mix instead. It wasn’t fair to make Hollie responsible for the way the test had gone. The mood settling over them this morning was her fault, not her daughter’s.

By the time she’d poured a spoonful of mix into the frying pan, Hollie was busy laying cutlery on the table, taking her time over remembering what side the knife was supposed to go.

‘Delicious,’ Hollie declared when she took her first bite, giving Fliss a blueberry-stained grin.

Fliss’s mood softened at the sight and she tried not to worry about Hollie’s school uniform getting soiled. Ben was right: this was one of the moments she needed to appreciate being with the daughter she had.

***

An hour later and with Hollie packed off to school, Fliss should have been getting on with some work. With no current interior design projects, there was a 1950s cabinet waiting in her studio for its final sanding down before some upcycling touches, but instead she was in front of the computer seeking solace. Mummyto3boys would be online so she logged on to the Baby Making Forum.

‘Another BFN,’ she wrote on the Trying To Conceive board and surprised herself when she laughed at the abbreviation. When she’d first joined up she thought all the shortenings were for scientific names. It was only after spending a while lurking around the boards that she’d discovered they were anything but. BFN = BIG FAT Negative and every time she wrote it, despite what it represented, it still made her giggle.

BirminghamMomma: Aw, hun. Big hugs. I had my AF arrive 2 days ago so know how you’re feeling. Best of luck this cycle.

Fliss smiled again at the speedy response. It had taken her weeks to try and work out what AF meant. She’d gathered it was to do with having a period but what scientific term was AF? It turned out it was Aunt Flo, of course.

Mummyto3boys: That sucks. Felt sure this was the month. I have news for you. Hold on and I’ll PM you.

At some point along the TTC road, Mummyto3boys had become her best virtual friend. Her real name was Ange and she lived up in Manchester, which seemed a million miles away from Kent, which was perhaps why Fliss felt so able to pour her heart out in the knowledge her secrets were safe from all her family and friends. Ange had three boys and was desperate for a girl and was trying every absurd technique under the sun in order to tempt her husband’s X-sperms into fertilising her egg. So far they’d had no luck with any eggs and they were beginning to despair. News could refer to what they’d been hoping for – the BIG FAT Positive. It was worth waiting the extra few minutes to find out. The restoration she was doing was only destined for eBay and she wasn’t booked in with another client for a couple of weeks.

She read the rest of the replies to her post while she waited. It was the outpouring of sympathy that she’d needed. Women all in the same position: trying so desperately to remain relaxed about the activity that had overtaken their lives.

Ange’s message pinged up and Fliss clicked it open.

Found out about this on another forum and it would be perfect for us! A TV company are doing a documentary we both qualify for. If we both signed up to take part we might actually get to meet each other. I don’t think we should pass the opportunity up! A xxx

Fliss breathed a selfish sigh of relief. She would be delighted if Ange was pregnant, but there was something deep within her that wanted them to go through it together. If only it could work out like that. Absentmindedly, Fliss clicked on the link Ange had added to her message to see what she was on about.

Are you struggling to get pregnant second time round?

Have you conceived naturally before and can’t work out why this time nothing seems to be working?

Award-winning Bright Idea Productions will be filming a series looking at the causes of secondary infertility. If you are interested in taking part then please email us with a brief summary of your situation and we will forward an application form.

‘Will think about it,’ Fliss messaged back to Ange, even though she already knew the answer was no.

Outside she worked away at the front door of the cabinet, taking the old varnish off, and wished it was a quicker job. Every time she stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead a prick of guilt jabbed her in the belly. Why didn’t she want to take part? If it meant she’d meet Ange then maybe it’d be worth it. Really, she knew exactly why she didn’t want to and it wasn’t because it might turn out Ange was some kind of cyber freak. It was the horrid word that appeared in the recruitment advert: infertility. It was a word she didn’t wish to be faced with. Ange and Fliss were on the same journey, yes, but Fliss refused to believe she was having the same problems as Ange and her husband, Mark. Whereas they were at it like rabbits to no avail, Fliss barely saw her husband enough to have sex, let alone conceive. What Fliss and Ben had was a different set of problems entirely.

As she started to work away at the varnish again, unwelcome thoughts began to niggle away at her. After two years of trying, perhaps it was time to stop blaming it on the fact they only saw each other at the weekend.

Chapter Two

‘Flowers! Mum, you shouldn’t have.’ Fliss took the bouquet from her mother and tried not to blush at the thought of the vase she would have to put them in.

‘If I can’t spoil my daughter and my gorgeous granddaughter then what am I to do in life?’ Joan said, while removing her coat.

‘Grandmaaaa.’ Hollie launched herself down the stairs and flung her arms round Joan, almost sending her off her feet.

‘This must be the best greeting I’ve ever had. Now are you all packed for your sleepover, young lady?’

‘I need to show you something, Gran.’ Hollie tugged on Joan’s cardigan sleeve, leading her up the stairs, whether she was a willing follower or not.

‘Wait a second, Hollie. I think Gran would like a cup of tea before you both head off.’ Hollie pouted at Fliss, not quite able to understand that not everyone could keep up with the enthusiasm of a six-year-old.

‘Not to worry, love. I’ll pop up while you put the kettle on. Right, young lady. You have exactly five minutes of Gran’s time before I need to sit down with your mum.’

With that, Fliss watched as her mum was whisked away up the stairs, shortly followed by the thuds of Hollie’s latest dance routine pounding through the low ceilings.

Fliss popped the flowers in a vase, checked on the lamb shanks and made a start on peeling the potatoes. Despite scheduling in a late dinner with her husband, he’d not long since texted to say he was running even later than expected. Who lived like this and survived, she wondered. Whenever she watched homebuyers on telly seeking out a dual lifestyle you never got to see this side of the idyll, which was anything but. When they’d set out to find somewhere so Hollie could grow up outside of central London, she’d wanted to get the best out of everything. They’d settled on a small cottage on the Kent coast so they would be in-between both families. They’d sold their London flat for a profit and Ben had downsized to a less affluent, more up-and-coming part of East London. It made sense that he shouldn’t have to suffer the daily commute, causing him to be thoroughly miserable and arrive home when his daughter was already in bed. At least that had been the plan. Now, several years in, Fliss wondered why she had bothered factoring in his family when they’d only visited once. She’d much rather live nearer her mum and sister. If only she’d known that when they made those decisions. What she would do for a crystal ball. Life would be so much easier.

As it was they’d settled well in the coastal village of Westbrook. She’d made friends with some of the school mums, there was a healthy demand for her business, but she couldn’t help feel that something was lacking. Maybe it was missing her husband that was the problem.

‘Gosh, darling, quite a little mover, isn’t she?’ Joan said, slightly out of breath.

‘Yes, she’s got grand ambitions on that front. Seems she doesn’t think her dance instructor’s routines are technical enough so she likes to create her own versions.’ Fliss passed her mum the cup of tea she’d prepared absentmindedly.

‘Do you need a hand with anything here before we head off?’

Looking around the kitchen-cum-diner, it was hardly the setting for the romantic dinner Fliss had planned. There were pans and plates left over from Hollie’s meal covering every square inch of sideboard making the place seem cluttered. Clearing up would be a welcome distraction. ‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll have it spic and span in no time. Everything’s under control.’

‘Will I get to see my son-in-law before we have to disappear?’

Fliss studied a piece of onion skin that had managed to find its way onto the floor. Ignoring her mother’s signs of disapproval, she scooped it up. ‘He’s missed the right train to be here before you leave. He’ll be on the next one.’

‘Again? Seems it’s becoming a habit.’

Damn, Fliss didn’t want to go down this line of conversation. It never came out favourably for Ben and it was always so hard to explain, especially when she was fed up with making excuses for him. Joan arched an eyebrow in a way her daughter couldn’t match as she waited for the usual deluge of excuses.

‘Yes, I know. It’s rubbish. But we’re going to talk about it. It’s not down to Ben how unreliable the transport system is. And you’ll see him tomorrow.’ There she went again, jumping to his defence, finding herself riled so easily when discussing it with her mum who seemed to always have it in for her husband and the amount of time he spent away from his family. It was draining having to continually defend the lifestyle that she’d chosen. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t working out quite how she’d envisaged, but it was their lot and she was doing her best to stick with it. Or rather, stick with Ben if she was being more specific.

‘I’m ready!’ Hollie bounced into the room, her blonde ringlets almost as giddy with excitement as she was. Behind her, a pink roll-along suitcase, the zip not quite secured, and a trail of clothes in her wake.

‘Were you planning on taking those with you?’ Fliss gestured towards the mess her daughter had made.

‘Oh dear!’ Hollie giggled at the mishap and set to collecting the items.

Fliss smiled at Hollie’s optimism as she watched her place a swimming costume, snorkel and ballet skirt into the case. Just how many activities did her daughter hope to squeeze into her overnight stay with Grandma? ‘Have you remembered to pack any pyjamas, young lady? As, from the look of things, you’re not going to have much time for sleep.’

‘Yesss, Mummm!’ Hollie said, the indignant teenager within her sounding disgusted. How quickly her young daughter was growing up. On some days, six going on sixteen couldn’t be closer to the truth.

‘Well, if you’re all set to go we best be on our way,’ Joan said, before taking a final slurp from her mug of tea.

‘Terrific!’ Hollie said, like a stayover at Grandma’s was the most exciting thing in the world.

Once they’d left, Fliss placed a bottle of wine into the fridge and hung her head in there a moment longer than necessary. It was preferable to sticking her head in the oven. She listened to the soft buzzing inside and the silence of the cottage beyond. A rare moment of quiet. If only her life was as calm.

***

It read 20:47 on the cooker clock when Fliss heard the jangle of Ben’s keys in the door. Somewhere along the line, her husband had stopped making any effort. Despite the commute, it was unreasonable for him to turn up so late when there were arrangements in place for them to have an evening together.

In the time it had taken for Ben to arrive, Fliss had devoured two large glasses of wine and resorted to nibbling on breadsticks. Fed up and somewhat tipsy by this point, she’d done what she was for ever telling Hollie not to do, and ruined her dinner by munching her way through a Kit Kat Chunky and a packet of crisps. The lamb shanks were being kept warm in the slow cooker, but the creamy mash and onion gravy would need reheating.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Ben said, as soon as he reached the kitchen. He dashed small kisses all over her head as he leaned over her.

Fliss had heard it before and she was beginning to get sick of it. ‘Why are you so late?’

‘Something cropped up at work.’

‘Always something.’ Fliss sighed deeply, resigned to the fact her husband’s work took precedence far too often. He should have taken a lease on his office at the architectural firm he worked for as his second home rather than buying their London flat. He must barely see the place with the hours he kept.

‘I haven’t ruined dinner, have I?’ Ben regarded the pots on the stove.

‘Nothing that can’t be revived.’ Fliss wondered if the same could be done for their marriage. ‘Ben, I arranged this because I think we need to talk.’

‘About?’

Fliss set to warming up the various elements of their meal – not that she was hungry any longer. ‘Life.’ It was hard to easily sum up all the things that were bothering her.

‘Yes, we’re definitely alive.’ Ben snuck behind her aiming for a cuddle.

Fliss swung round with a wooden spoon in hand. ‘I’m serious, Ben. All these extra hours you’re working seem to be adding up. Late night returns on Friday and you keep having early departures on Sunday. It’s not like we see each other much anyway without more chunks of time being eaten into.’

As the spoon was in the way of getting to Fliss, Ben took a seat at their tiny bistro table. ‘I know it’s been rubbish of late. We’ve just been so busy. They’ve taken on too many projects.’

‘But what about us? Your family. Surely we’re more important. I’m beginning to think we made the wrong decision about us being here and you working up in London.’ They’d reached a point where Fliss reckoned she spent more time with the postman than her husband. Their food dished up, she placed it on the table and waited for Ben to respond.

‘You’ll always be more important and I’m sorry it’s been like this. It’s a brief hiatus of extra work, but it’ll be back to normal soon.’ Ben tucked into his dinner, clearly not as concerned about how things were currently.

‘It’s not great for when we manage to extend the family. Imagine how stressful it’s going to be when I have a newborn to deal with as well. I can’t have you choosing work over family then.’

‘We’ll deal with that when it happens.’

Fliss didn’t like it when Ben was so pragmatic. Deal with it when it happens was his motto for life. ‘Well, as it doesn’t seem to be happening, I was thinking it was time we went and got checked out.’

‘Go to the doctors?’ Ben glanced up from the greedy mouthfuls that Fliss’s full stomach wasn’t keeping pace with. ‘But they’ll only tell us what we already know. That the reason you’re not pregnant yet is we’re not trying enough. And there’s no way that can improve when we live most of the week in different regions of the country.’

‘But there might be something wrong. Just because we had Hollie without any problems doesn’t mean there isn’t a problem now.’ It was hard knowing Ben was so indifferent about the subject.

‘Don’t you think you’re overthinking it?’

‘How is it overthinking? I want a baby, you want a baby, and two years on we don’t have one. I don’t think looking into getting everything checked out is such an extreme line of thought.’ Fliss pressed her tongue against her front teeth, not wanting to get angry at her husband despite his thoughtless comment.

‘You misunderstand me. What I mean is the stress of it all. They often say the reason women don’t get pregnant is because they become very obsessed with it. I think with you that might be the case.’

Fliss’s jaw dropped open as Ben tucked into another piece of lamb. How could he insult her like that and not realise what he was saying? There was frank. Then there was too frank. This wasn’t a discussion with colleagues over blueprints; they were talking about their future.

‘I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Always putting my foot in it,’ Ben said. ‘Don’t take it the wrong way. I just mean I know it’s been playing on your mind. Of course getting pregnant will take longer for us when we’re only together for short periods of time. We’re not going hell for leather like when we were first married. It’ll be down to that. When it happens, it’ll be the right time. Pouring over internet forums and seeing other people get success only makes you more aware that we haven’t yet.’ Ben leaned across the table and caught hold of her hand. ‘I just think it’s not healthy to think about it more than necessary. We have a daughter to look after and care for. We should be pouring our love into her and the rest will come naturally.’

Fliss jerked away from Ben’s grip, annoyed that he still wasn’t getting it. ‘And what if it doesn’t? It’s not going to hurt to go to the doctor’s and start things off with some blood tests. At least we’ll know if I’m ovulating. I’m not as young as I was when I fell pregnant with Hollie and at thirty-five they already considered me a geriatric mother back then. Now I’m forty-one. It’s not like I have time on my side. Things might have changed and, if it’s a simple fix, well, I think we should explore the possibilities.’ She played with her food and forked a lump of mash across the plate. She’d felt sure Ben would be happy to start doing something about it; after all, it had been going on for long enough. She thought back to Ange’s suggestion about signing up for the programme. ‘My friend mentioned something that might help. There’s a TV documentary looking into this kind of problem and they’re providing funding for any of the couples taking part. It wouldn’t cost us anything if that’s what you’re worried about.’ The other thing their dual lifestyle was affecting was their finances. They didn’t have much disposable income and certainly no savings to cover the cost of any potential IVF treatment.

‘TV? I’m not going to do something like that to go and make a spectacle of ourselves. And I’m not worried. We just need to give it another six months. If nothing has happened in that time, we’ll go to the doctor then.’ Ben swigged on his glass of red wine and the steely expression in his eyes told her not to pursue the subject any further.

Fliss had guessed he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with the show given his reluctance with everything relating to their fertility. Ange’s conclusion on the matter was that Ben must think there was something wrong on his side and didn’t want to admit his virility was affected. Looking at him now, though, he didn’t look like a man worried about his sperm count. His gaze softened and he offered his best come-to-bed smile. It had to be said, his looks had only improved over the years. His dark-brown hair might be spattered with grey, but that only enhanced his olive complexion and deep-brown eyes. The man she’d fallen in love with was still there; she just didn’t see him as often these days.

‘We can work on it a bit harder once this project is over. I’ll take some time off. Then we’ll see where we’re at. If nothing has happened, we’ll look into what can be done. Just promise me one thing – that you’ll relax and stop reading things on the internet that are making you worry.’

Fliss didn’t like to admit it, but maybe he was right. She was becoming obsessed. A bit of time out might be the answer.

‘Come on. There is only one way I know to make babies.’ And with that, Fliss allowed Ben to lead her upstairs.

Chapter Three

Fliss should have been enjoying the freedom, but she was already missing Hollie even though she’d only been away overnight. She was used to being woken up by Hollie’s boundless bundle of energy making her way into her bed like an alarm.

Even without her daughter at home, Fliss woke automatically, her husband a foreign snoring lump in her bed. She really was getting too used to him not being there and the extra space it provided. She left him there and went downstairs, jealous of his ability to sleep in whenever the opportunity arose.

After making tea and toast, Fliss switched on her laptop and logged on to her usual forums despite last night’s dinner-time conversation. It was only so she could private message Ange, so it was totally justifiable; although was it, when she knew she was logging in here because Ben knew her Facebook password? And was it even worse that she was more able to speak to her friend who was hundreds of miles away than her husband who was sleeping upstairs? All she had to do was wake him and say, ‘Don’t you want to reconsider?’

Fliss was at the point she wanted action from Ben. Seeing a doctor and taking part in the programme would be exactly what she needed to see happening. Instead, once again, he’d put their relationship on hold. She was at the annoying phase of the phone call where she was being made to listen to Mozart on repeat and all she really wanted to do was speak to someone who would sort the problem out.

Felbaby: B said no to the show.

Fliss stopped herself adding: And I hate him for it. It was hard to accept the thing that should be bringing them together seemed to be pulling them apart.

Mummyto3boys: Apply anyway!

Fliss raised her eyebrows at Ange’s response. It wasn’t something she’d even considered; after all, they were looking for couples, so was there any point?

Felbaby: They want couples. They won’t take just me.

Fliss didn’t want to be negative, but they would laugh if she applied solo, but then she remembered it was Ben keeping her on hold and surely this was a question about her own health. If there was a problem that might have occurred as a result of having Hollie, didn’t she want to know about it?

Mummyto3boys: Try all the same. You have nothing to lose.

The combination of Ange’s gentle encouragement and her own festering annoyance at Ben made Fliss decide to throw caution to the wind and, for once, be a little bit selfish. With courage taking over her fingertips, she tapped out an email with the details Bright Idea Productions had requested and crossed everything in the hope it would find her some answers.

***

It was an hour’s drive to Fliss’s childhood home in the idyllic town of Sandwich. The four-bedroom thatched house was far too big for her mum, but since her dad, Bill, had passed away a few years ago, Joan was adamant she wasn’t downsizing. She wanted room for her family to stay whenever they needed to and she wasn’t ready to say goodbye to their happy home. As she wandered towards the house from the car park, Fliss was secretly glad she was still able to come here. With its narrow streets and limited parking, Sandwich was a town steeped in history, her own childhood amongst these very streets.

As soon as Fliss arrived, she was almost toppled over by Hollie’s enthusiastic welcome. Hollie gave the best hugs when they’d been apart for any length of time. ‘Come and see what I made with Grandma and Suzie.’

Fliss’s younger sister, Suzie, and her husband were visiting from Norwich for the weekend, so Joan was using it as the perfect excuse to get all the family over for lunch, with their elder sister joining them later.

Hollie tugged at Fliss’s arm, wanting her to follow like she used to when she was a toddler.

‘Where’s a hug for your dad?’ Ben said, having finally joined them after fussing about where to park.

Hollie looked ready to dismiss him she was so wrapped up in her mission to share something with her mum. His absence on weekdays was starting to fracture his relationship with his daughter.

For a moment, Fliss thought she might have to prompt Hollie to greet her own father.

‘Hi, Dad.’ Hollie gave him a quick hug before returning to her intended target and regaining her grip on Fliss’s hand.

Fliss gave Ben a brief smile, mostly in apology for their daughter deciding to choose a favourite parent in the same way she might select a best friend.

As Fliss was dragged into the kitchen, she was allowed a brief hand release to give her mum and sister a hug before Hollie caught a hold of her again.

‘Here it is,’ Hollie said, when they arrived at the large oak table. It was the piece of furniture Fliss missed the most. She would have loved a similar one in their own home, but they had no room for such a family-focused centrepiece.

On the table was one of Suzie’s famous chocolate cakes. Having an artisan baker for a sister really did have its perks, although it was pretty clear from the rough piping work that Hollie had obviously had a go. ‘I helped with all of it,’ Hollie said, in case Fliss needed confirmation of the fact.

‘It’s magnificent,’ Fliss said, which it really was if Hollie had only received guidance. She turned to get Ben’s agreement only to find he hadn’t even bothered to follow them in. Fliss ignored her disappointment and turned her attention again to her daughter who talked her through the entire cake-making process. If only Ben could summon the same kind of focus on what his daughter enjoyed, their relationship might not be suffering.

***

Once Caroline arrived with her husband and four children, there was barely room to move in the kitchen, but somehow they all managed to squeeze round the table. Fliss was seated between Hollie and her older sister, Caroline.

‘Everything all right?’ Caroline asked in her usual breezy manner. Despite having four children, she had a constant stress-free air about her. Like nothing would phase her ever. Caroline was who Fliss had been striving to be all her life.

Fliss answered with small talk. News of her latest work projects, the possibility of working on some interiors at a chain of small boutique hotels, how Hollie’s schoolwork was going, how Ben was fine. She skipped over the real nitty-gritty. The fact she wasn’t pregnant yet, the reality that she missed coming to these family gatherings more often. She didn’t want to get all serious when delicious roast beef and mammoth Yorkshire puddings were waiting to be enjoyed. So instead she listened as Caroline relayed their news, including the fact they’d acquired another pet – a hamster called Cheesecake – and drank in the busy atmosphere with the three sisters, all their husbands, Joan and her five grandchildren all nestled round enjoying their food.

Chink. Chink. Chink. From the other end of the table, Joan tapped the side of her glass to get everyone’s attention.

‘Here we go, I’ve been waiting for this.’ Caroline nudged a secret whisper into Fliss’s ear.

It wasn’t like Joan to go about making announcements so Fliss inwardly panicked. Was she ill? Was there something Fliss had missed?

‘Over to you, Suzie,’ Joan said once everyone was paying attention.

Fliss’s younger sister stood up and, for the first time that day, Fliss truly took in her appearance. Her cheeks were rosier than usual, her white tunic top covered by a scarf that she was still wearing despite it being dinner-time. Before her sister even began to move her lips, the penny dropped. How had she not noticed before whereas Caroline clearly had? They’d been married for two years. Of course this would happen.

‘Oli and I are delighted to tell you all we’re expecting.’

Fliss smiled as Suzie shared a hug with Joan and within moments there was much congratulating, back-slapping, and cheers.

‘Settle down for a moment everyone,’ Joan instructed. ‘I would like to raise a toast. To my latest grandchild.’

Everyone raised a glass to Suzie and Oli and automatically Fliss joined in. She was delighted for them. Delighted.

Glancing across the table, she looked to Ben for some reassurance. Just a moment to say, ‘It’s okay, it’ll be us next,’ but he was too busy slapping Oli on the back.

Going with the wave of celebration, Fliss squeezed round the table with Caroline in tow to hug their sister and start asking the zillion and one questions that every mother wanted to know: how many weeks are you? When is your due date? Have you had your scan yet?

It was during this interrogation that Ben’s phone decided to ring. He was too far out of Fliss’s reach for her to give him a sharp nudge telling him to ignore it. Instead she went for a steely stare in his direction that he didn’t register.

‘Sorry, guys. I just need to take this. Back in a minute. Congrats again.’ Ben was halfway out of his seat before anyone acknowledged he was going.

‘Hello, just hold on a minute,’ Ben said down the phone as he exited to the front of the house.

Fliss didn’t want to think about what was so important that Ben had to run out on this celebratory moment. She pasted on a cheery smile and raised her glass. ‘Congratulations to Suzie and Oli, whose adventure is only just beginning.’

Everyone joined in the toast and Fliss gave Hollie a sly hug as she went to embrace her Auntie Suzie. Yes, parenthood really was the greatest adventure. And she so wanted to do it again.

***

‘What was that all about?’ Fliss asked Ben when she got the chance.

‘What was what about?’ Ben sat next to her on the sofa, cup of tea in hand.

‘Taking a phone call in the middle of a family celebration. Surely it could have waited.’ Clearly the talk about work interfering with family life hadn’t impacted enough for Ben to consider the action inappropriate.

‘I couldn’t ignore it.’

‘Why not? Who was it?’ Fliss failed to see why he couldn’t have rung back.

‘It was a work thing.’

‘I know, it always is, but I wanted to know what was so important it couldn’t wait.’ Fliss attempted to keep her voice low, not wanting to draw attention to the discussion while everyone was enjoying a post-lunch drink.

‘It was one of our clients. It’s a complicated underground build and it’s been having a few issues. As they were calling I knew it must be urgent.’

‘And was it?’ Fliss asked, still not satisfied with Ben’s answers.

‘No, fortunately not, otherwise I might have had to leave. It wasn’t me he needed to speak to to sort the problem out, it was the foreman. So thankfully I’m still here with you and the family enjoying the day.’ Ben took her hand in his and caressed it gently. ‘I’m sorry about the bad timing.’

Fliss sipped her tea, trying to let her frustration at the recent work intrusions on family life ebb away. ‘It just seems to be becoming a bit of a habit.’ This wouldn’t have been the first time a work phone call meant Ben had to make a swift exit.

‘Here.’ Ben took out his phone and pressed the side button. ‘It’s off. No more intrusions for today. I’ll have to start doing that more often at the weekend. They shouldn’t be calling me while I’m at home anyway.’

Maybe he was listening to her after all.

Chapter Four

Mondays were Fliss’s least favourite day of the week. Just as they would get back into the swing of things with family life, it was time for Ben to head back to London. His work schedule determined whether he would go up on the Sunday evening or Monday morning. This weekend, after their discussion, he’d opted for the early wake-up call so they would have one more night together. It made for a long day as he’d managed to wake both Fliss and Hollie so a couple of hours extra entertaining her daughter this morning meant that this evening she was in need of an early night.

Before heading off to bed, Fliss carried out the usual weekday ritual of sending Ben a text summarising their day. It was hard to recall when the usual evening telephone call had been reduced to a text message, but it hadn’t been long after the house move. Hollie had been younger and, with the cottage’s low ceilings, more than once the calls had disturbed her sleep. So they’d switched to messaging each other and years on they were still texting rather than calling.

The message she typed out now was like a template for all the others.

Hollie had a good day. Two refurbished eBay items sold. Tired now. Sweet dreams xxx

What she didn’t include was the fact the show’s producer had called and wanted to visit tomorrow to assess whether her proposal was possible. Or that she kept thinking about Suzie’s pregnancy and having lustful thoughts about it being her. Little fantasies about enjoying the experience with her younger sister kept tantalising her daydreams. If only.

Fliss considered giving Ben a call to tell him how she was feeling, but there was far too much to say and she was too tired. And there was nothing to add to what she’d told him on Friday night. She’d tried to talk about their efforts for another baby and he hadn’t listened. He wanted her to wait six months, but she wasn’t at an age where she wanted to wait for half a year. She wanted to know now.

***

The instant they bundled into her cramped kitchen, Fliss regretted her foolhardiness.

‘Will there be enough space to set up in here?’ the skinny brunette said to the two blokes she was bossing about. She’d introduced herself as Carrie and since she’d been let across the threshold, she’d neglected to pay Fliss any attention.

Already Fliss was overwhelmed and wanted to send them on their way. If she put a stop to it she would be in control again. But then… How else was she going to get Ben to say yes to finding out what was wrong? And didn’t she want to know for herself?

‘What about the light, Leon? It’s very pokey in the kitchen. Perhaps if we opened the blind and this… erm, art gallery can provide the backdrop?’ Carrie arched an eyebrow as she took in the array of Hollie’s drawings that Fliss had never had the heart to throw away.

Carrie’s obvious disgust made Fliss regard the room with fresh eyes. Despite Fliss’s interior designer credentials it was her own house that was neglected the most. It was what some would call shabby-chic. Really it was all getting a bit shabby-shit. The kitchen area was cramped and more suitable for students who didn’t cook much. Underneath the stairwell that ate into the space, there were some chairs and a bistro-style table with a folded piece of cardboard under one leg stopping it from wobbling. The fine layer of dust covering most surfaces suddenly seemed thick and cloying. It was as if, when Carrie surveyed the room, everything that Fliss regarded as homely shrivelled up and shuddered. Even the yucca plant in the corner grew limp under her scrutiny.

‘You said this was an introduction so I could find out what was involved? I haven’t signed anything yet, so I don’t know why you’re testing light conditions?’ Fliss said.

‘I’m sorry,’ Carrie said, ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s talk about the whole project in more detail over a coffee. Mine’s black, no sugar. I’ll take a seat in the front room.’

Carrie walked past Fliss, not without inspecting the door smudges, and ventured into the lounge, no doubt to disapprove of its state without even moving her lips. Fliss spat on her cuff and scrubbed at the door with her sleeve, but gave it up as a bad job. If they were going to set up cameras here, she really would need to tidy.

‘Don’t let her put you off.’

‘Arghhh.’ Fliss jumped out of her skin.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,’

Fliss turned to see the Hottest Guy Ever – and she’d been too distracted by the kitchen hijack to notice. ‘I, er, you didn’t… I forgot you were there.’ And I wouldn’t be scrubbing doors with my own saliva if I’d known you were.

‘She’s a bit like a robot. No human emotion.’ Hot Guy went to pull on the blind cord.

‘Don’t…’ Fliss said. ‘It’s broken.’ She bit her lip as the little white lie escaped. The truth was no one had touched the blinds in ages and she was scared a tornado of dust would overtake the room. The decision to enquire about this programme was beginning to seem like a bad idea. What with Hot Guy poking around her kitchen and Miss Efficient casting an eye of disgust over her home, backing out was the only reasonable thing to do. She’d emailed on a whim in a silent protest against her husband. She’d sent the message off to the programme admitting her husband wasn’t willing to participate, but she’d asked if there was any chance they would consider just her. Never in a million years did she think they’d turn up talking about setting up without even explaining to her what was happening.

‘But she’s not as bad as she comes across.’ Hot Guy broke into her thoughts. ‘I know she seems brash, but it’s because she’s concerned about getting it right.’

‘Really?’ Fliss asked. ‘You don’t sound convinced.’

Hot Guy hesitated and Fliss wondered whether she should take this opportunity to stroke his biceps. She really did need to get out of the house more.

‘That and she’s eager to head off on her ski holiday. So she’s worse than usual, but I don’t want you to be put off by her,’ he said, peering through his mop of long hair. ‘This project is a great opportunity for you.’

Fliss’s throat dried. His hazel eyes fixed on her as if he knew everything. As if she were transparent and her emotions clear.

Of course he knew about her. He must have read her application and all the details it included. Would this be what it would be like if she took part? Would total strangers look at her and pity her instantly? That poor woman on the telly who couldn’t get pregnant.

‘But only do it if it’s what you want to do. Don’t let her push you into it. Do it if it’s right for you.’ He broke into her thoughts again as if reading her mind.

She took in his kind, stubble-covered face and decided to be honest. ‘I’m not sure any more. I thought it would be a great opportunity and we need to because of the funding. If I need IVF we don’t have any savings and at my age, plus the fact we already have a child, the NHS won’t fund it. But despite that, now it’s reality, I don’t know if it’s such a good idea. I didn’t think you’d be filming here at my house. It already feels invasive and I haven’t even signed up.’

‘Signing up is exactly what we need to discuss,’ Carrie said, rejoining them in the kitchen. ‘Don’t let Leon bother you. The light is much better in the lounge, Leon. Perhaps you can go and set up in there and I’ll talk Fliss through everything.’

Fliss didn’t miss the emphasis on ‘I’ll’ and Leon skulked off to the lounge with the gait of a sulky teenager. She also didn’t miss the wink he offered her as he left. Leon. Her late grandfather’s name. She liked him already.

‘Let’s sit down with this drink and chat through what format we’ll be following over the next few months. Here?’ Carrie indicated the small kitchen table, with the curled corners of Hollie’s paintings close enough to tickle earlobes.

Perhaps not, Fliss thought. ‘Outside will be nicer. Follow me.’ Fliss carried the drinks she’d prepared into the garden. Even the back door was grubby and Fliss worried about Carrie brushing against it in her crisp, white shirt. At least out in the garden Fliss wouldn’t worry about what Carrie thought of her home.

The garden was small, but perfectly formed. Her work studio was to one side and when she took a ten-minute break she would come out and tend to the borders around the lawn. It struck Fliss that Carrie wasn’t the type of person to know the difference between a weed and a plant. At least out here she knew it was up and together. She led Carrie to the patio and they sat at the mosaicked table – one of Fliss’s favourite restoration projects to date. So much so she had opted to keep it rather than selling it on.

‘Pretty,’ Carrie said, rubbing her hand over the detailed peacock design.

‘Thanks. Took me a while, but worth the effort,’ Fliss said, feeling more relaxed now she was in the place where she was most at one with the world.

‘You must be very patient to have completed something like this,’ Carrie said.

Fliss’s anxiety ebbed away slightly. Out here Carrie didn’t appear so fierce or critical. ‘It’s part of what I do with my interior design business. Revamping unloved furniture is the bit I love doing most.’

‘Well, you obviously have a good eye.’ Carrie sipped her coffee as the small talk dried up.

‘I don’t want to do this,’ Fliss blurted. There, she’d said it. ‘It was a spur of the moment thing when I filled out that form. Now you’re here and I’ve considered everything it doesn’t seem very sensible. I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’

Carrie leant forward and rested her hand on Fliss’s arm. ‘Don’t rush any decisions, Fliss. I think your story will resonate with a lot of people in the same situation as you. Let me explain our plan and consider what you want to do.’

‘Okay,’ Fliss said quickly in the hope Carrie would move out of her personal space. It had the desired effect and Carrie started her spiel.

‘In the first instance we want all the participants to do video diaries at home. That’s why we’re here today. Once we’ve set that up for you, we want you to carry on as you usually would and continue trying to get pregnant. During the first three months we ask that whenever you feel like you want to talk about what you’re going through you make a video diary. Talk about how you feel when you are fertile, and if your period turns up talk about how you feel then. We want to capture the emotions of wanting a child and why it’s so important to you. After that, if you haven’t fallen pregnant naturally, we’ll start the process of investigating your fertility.’

‘But there’s no point if it’s just me taking part. My husband said no. I shouldn’t have gone behind his back,’ Fliss said, biting her lip.

‘Three months is a long time. Perhaps he’ll change his mind by the time we get to that part. There’ll be no harm in your doing the video diary entries and if you decide not to take part later on we can scrap them and you won’t be included in the programme. The time will give you the chance to persuade him.’

‘I didn’t think you’d be coming here and recording in my house. I’ve got my daughter to think about as well.’

‘She won’t be affected by the filming. I promise we only want to set up a simple camcorder wherever you want it to be. Most of the documentary will be filmed later on. We ask that participants continue the video diaries throughout so we can get the personal side to your story. We don’t want it to be a clinical take on secondary infertility. We want the human perspective.’ Carrie sipped her coffee. ‘You’ll be perfect. Our viewers will really connect with what you’re going through. It strikes me it can be very lonely and that will resonate with people.’

Fliss considered for a second. Carrie had managed to sum up her marriage with one word. Lonely. It wasn’t something she’d ever admitted to anyone, but that was exactly what she was. Every week she cherished the time she spent with her daughter, but when Hollie was at school and in the evenings – especially the evenings – the loneliness had intensified over the years. Without Ben there she couldn’t pop out to meet up with her friends and, with her mum living an hour away in the car, it wasn’t easy to have a life of her own.

‘You might help someone in the same position as you.’ Carrie finished the last of her coffee.

Fliss thought of Ange. ‘I know lots of people who are struggling and they’ve become like friends. It’s something that only someone in the same situation really understands.’

‘So does that mean you’ll do the videos?’

Fliss had changed her mind about twenty times since they’d arrived. ‘Yes. It will give me time to have a proper think. As long as I can back out after those three months like you’ve promised. I want the fact the videos will be destroyed if I choose not to take part written into anything I sign.’

‘Of course.’ Carrie stood. ‘Let’s get back inside and see if Leon’s managed to set the camera up. We can have a quick test run. We’ll meet up again before the next stage of filming and you can give me your final decision then.’

Carrie headed off without Fliss and for a moment Fliss wondered whether it would be rude to run away. She wasn’t sure if she had the conviction to go through with any of this and it would be wrong to waste their time. It was the sense of being sprung upon making her uncomfortable. But then if she continued there was a chance of a baby. The sibling she longed for Hollie to have. If there was even the slightest hope this would get her closer to that goal she was prepared to grab it with both hands.

With that thought, Fliss matched Carrie’s stride and headed indoors.

‘Everything ready?’ Carrie asked when they reached the front room.

Leon and his lanky pal looked up from whatever it was they were fiddling with. They were both dressed in black jeans and black T-shirts, although Leon filled his out far better, and Fliss guessed it was some kind of uniform.

‘We’re ready to go through it whenever Fliss is,’ Leon said, his hazel eye’s holding her attention.

‘Excellent. I’ll go and see if I can find the paperwork in my car. I’ll leave you to it.’ Carrie let herself out of the front door.

Made yourself quite at home, haven’t you, Fliss thought as she stared after Carrie.

‘Do you want me to show you?’ Leon asked. His arched eyebrow added a sense of ‘Are you really going through with this?’

‘She said I can back out later on if I don’t want to go through with it.’ Eyebrows can’t talk, Felicity, she told herself and turned her attention to the camera. ‘So, what do I need to know?’

‘It’s pretty simple. When you want to make a recording you need to press this button here.’ Leon showed Fliss the small panel of buttons and she saw he was pointing to the one marked record. ‘Once you’ve pressed it this light here will come on so you know it’s working.’ A red LED light came on as he demonstrated. ‘Once you’ve finished press the stop button.’

‘That’s the kind of level of technology I can deal with,’ Fliss said.

‘We just need to get the angle of the camera right so we have a good headshot of you. If you can sit in the chair and I can get it all set up… I used Tim as my guide and he’s about a foot taller than you so we’ll be filming your forehead if we’re not careful.’

Fliss moved round to her comfy chair where she spent most of her evenings cuddled up by the woodburner reading a good book. ‘I will be able to put it away somewhere when it’s not in use, right?’ Staring at the camera on its tripod, Fliss became aware of how intrusive it was. It would be like Big Brother continuously being there even when it wasn’t on. Not to mention what Ben would think when he returned home this weekend. She’d hardly be able to keep her participation in the project a secret with a camera living in the lounge.

Leon’s hazel eyes peered up from where they’d been staring at her through a lens. ‘You can collapse the tripod fairly easily and store it somewhere safe out of the way. I’ll need to make sure you put it back in the same spot. Maybe I could mark its place with some tape for you, if that’s okay?’ He grabbed some hazard tape from a nearby bag of equipment then raised his eyebrows while he waited for her answer.

Stripes of yellow and black tape across the floor wasn’t a discreet option. ‘Can you make them small pieces?’ Fliss asked.

Leon riffled about in the bag again. ‘How about I do it with this?’ He held up a roll of black electrical tape. ‘That way your husband shouldn’t be able to spot anything.’

Fliss blushed. Was she really that readable?

‘Tim, get the scissors out of the car can you? I can’t find them in here,’ Leon said.

The young, lanky fellow who’d been leaning against the wall the whole time headed outside.

‘Work experience,’ Leon said. ‘Really not sure how I can make it more interesting for him, but then it would help if he showed a bit more interest.’ He knelt by the tripod and cut a small piece of black tape with his scissors.

‘I thought you said you couldn’t find them,’ Fliss said.

‘A little white lie to occupy him. There’s another pair out there so it’s not like he’s on a totally wild errand. Besides, I didn’t think you’d want him ruining your expensive wallpaper.’

Fliss’s cheeks went an even deeper shade of crimson. Why she was embarrassed she was unsure. The paper was anything but expensive. Everything in the cottage had been done on a budget and, where possible, made by her own fair hands. The wallpaper had been cheap and plain. She’d done the hand-painted artwork on it, but should she admit to it? Or let him believe they were better off than they were? ‘I did it myself,’ she confessed.

‘What? Put it up? Neat job,’ Leon said, paying a bit more attention to the single feature wall.

Something prickled within Fliss. Why shouldn’t she own up to its being her work, especially if this guy was doubting her ability to put up wallpaper. ‘Yes, I put it up and I painted on the decoration. I’m an interior designer, but I prefer to do a lot of the work myself,’ Fliss said in a rather more defensive tone than she’d intended.

‘In that case it’s a really neat job. I wish I had artistic talent like that.’ Leon gave the paper a closer inspection. ‘Are you seriously telling me you can paint that perfectly?’

Fliss allowed herself a small smile. Two lots of compliments about her work in the same day was a rarity. Possibly because she didn’t put it on show like she should. ‘I used a block print to give me the same repetition. My eye’s not that good. I like to experiment with different techniques and the house is the best place to try anything new.’

‘Wow. If this is what you manage when you’re experimenting, I’d love to see what you do when you’ve refined your techniques.’

Fliss blushed. What Leon had said about refining techniques had sent a pulse through her body as she imagined innuendo where there wasn’t any. It proved her husband was away far too much if her mind was wandering so easily.

Leon brushed the hair back out of his face with one hand, his eyelids temporarily hooded. ‘I don’t suppose…’ He cleared his throat, not managing to complete his sentence. ‘Do you take on smaller jobs? There’s been some damage to my flat that’ll need sorting.’ Leon closed his eyes and shook his shoulders, like someone had just stepped over his grave.

‘What kind of damage?’

Tim reappeared with the large pair of scissors he’d gone to search for.

Leon glimpsed at Tim. ‘I’ll fill you in another time. Can you do it?’

‘Yes, no job too small. Just let me know.’ Leon’s change in demeanour made her wonder what type of damage he meant, but it didn’t really matter when she was in need of work however it came about.

Leon went back to marking out the position of the tripod and Fliss did her best to ignore his muscular body. ‘There. No one will notice,’ he said.

Fliss hoped Leon was right and the tape against the dark blue carpet didn’t show.

‘This is how you release the legs so the tripod folds down.’ Leon showed Fliss a quick release catch. ‘Leave the legs at this height. It can be hard to judge if you’ve got yourself in a headshot if you’re doing it by yourself. Hopefully you have a cupboard where you can stash this away when you’re not using the camera. You’ll need to be careful when storing it not to damage the lens. I’ll leave the cover with you. Pop that on before you put it away and it should keep it safe. And here’s my card.’ He took one from his wallet. ‘Give me a call if you have any problems and please text me your number so we can talk about my flat. I need to explain a few things to see if it’s possible to sort it out.’

***

When they’d all left, Fliss was left with a camera peering at her, a fistful of documents she needed to read and sign, and a sense of loneliness made greater by the fact she’d been assessed as such. In the early days she’d heard those comments often from her mum and her sisters. ‘Won’t you miss him? Won’t you be lonely?’ She’d dismissed the idea often enough for them to have stopped asking. But the ease with which she’d jovially shrugged off those comments when they first adopted their dual lifestyle had left her today. Instead, she found that she’d spent so long defending their set-up that at some point she’d started trying to convince herself as well as those around her. They were lucky, she would say to herself. Thousands of people would love to have this lifestyle but wouldn’t be able to afford two residences. They were only able to after riding the wave of a fortunate upturn in the property market. But with each passing year the idyll was losing its shine. Maybe she needed to get out more. She’d speak to Caroline, who always said Hollie was welcome to stay, but Fliss rarely took her up on the offer. She needed to do something to rid herself of the doubt that had formed since the arrival of the TV crew.

Fliss glanced at the pieces of tape from twenty different angles in every kind of light to try and see whether they would be spotted against the dark blue carpet. To rid herself of any further anxiety on the matter, she strategically placed some of Hollie’s toys and books. On all the weekends Ben visited, he’d never once shown any inclination to help with the tidying. As she assessed the scattering of toys she couldn’t work out which was sadder. That she needed to hide the fact she’d signed up for the show or that she considered her husband a visitor in their family home.

Chapter Five

Fliss repositioned the camera. It was hard to make out if it was in the right place at two in the morning, but it was the best she could manage.

It was the most ridiculous thing to be doing at this time, but after tossing and turning for hours she thought that perhaps talking about it would help her sleep. Having switched on the camera, she settled into her comfy chair and glanced at the viewfinder. Thankfully the darkness covered the fact her eyes were red and blotchy.

‘It’s happened again,’ Fliss started. ‘Another negative test. It’s not a surprise so I can’t explain why I’m upset.’ She fiddled with the strings on the hoody she’d chucked over her pyjamas. ‘My period was late which isn’t unusual given how irregular it can be. Sometimes I’ll have two in one month and none the next.’ Fliss stopped herself. What was she doing? Talking about things that she didn’t even discuss with her mother and recording them so they’d be televised to the whole nation. Somehow it wasn’t right and she was stumped by what to say next without exposing all that she held close. ‘I wish my body would behave,’ she confessed. ‘I wish it would stop giving me false hope. Even when there are no symptoms, like this time, I can’t help but think maybe. Just maybe. It’s like a trick I fall for every time. I’m so desperate I’ve become gullible when my body gives me a false sense of what could be. Only it isn’t. It never is and I’m at the point where I need to understand why. The sense of failure is beginning to overwhelm me. It was so much easier with my daughter. Accidental, almost.’ Fliss glanced at the ceiling and imagined the sleeping bundle above. Hollie would be fast asleep, but Fliss worried for a moment that she’d hear her mother’s confessions. That Fliss hadn’t expected Hollie to arrive so early in their marriage. Ironic, really. They’d been trying, but Fliss thought it would take months, and then they were pregnant before she’d had a chance to have her first period. Now, she wanted the same result so much it must be punishment for those previous thoughts.

‘Don’t broadcast that,’ Fliss said in a panic. ‘I don’t want my daughter thinking that she…’ wasn’t wanted. Fliss was unable to say it out loud. She’d already let too much slip. Hollie had been very much wanted; there had just been that brief period of doubt. ‘Never mind. I don’t know why I ever contemplated doing this. It’s stupid. Nobody wants to know about how useless I’m feeling. This was a mistake.’

Annoyed with herself, Fliss uncurled from her foetal position in the chair and went to switch off the recording. Only the camera wasn’t on. No red LED was lit up like when she’d sat down. Or so she’d thought. The early hours of the morning were playing tricks on her mind.

‘Can’t even get that right,’ Fliss said, as she thought about hooking her leg behind one of the tripod legs to take the damn thing out. If she couldn’t even manage a basic home video, then maybe this whole documentary idea wasn’t meant to be.

***

With Hollie packed off to school, Fliss went in search of Leon’s business card. After a rubbish night’s sleep, she was hoping to make a quick exit from the show and as this was the only phone number she had, she thought she might as well tell Leon and hope he’d still be able to put some business her way. She needed a filler, what with the Georgian mansion project continually being delayed by the building work.

Leon Stevens. Assistant Producer.

Swish. Fliss could do with getting herself some better business cards judging by this one. She dialled the number.

‘Yes.’ Leon’s opener was blunt. What happened to good old hello?

‘Hi, it’s Fliss. We met the other day. You came to my house with Carrie about the Baby Number Two show.’ She wondered how long she needed to continue before he would remember who she was.

‘Ah, yes. Are the videos going okay?’

‘No.’

‘Bollocks.’

Oh. This wasn’t quite what she’d been expecting. ‘And the thing is…’

‘You can’t quit.’

‘What? But you…’ Never let me finish my sentence.

‘I can come over this morning. Sort out whatever the problem is. Say, eleven?’

It was a rather bewildering conversation so Fliss said, ‘Okay,’ knowing that some things were easier to say in person.

***

Not able to get on with much work, Fliss took the chance to freshen up, securing her blonde ringlets up for a change. It was an hour later when Leon turned up, his designer stubble now beard-length and a stale odour making him somewhat less attractive than at their previous meeting, which was a relief. She could keep her pheromones under lock and key.

‘Everything okay?’ she had to ask. He looked a different person from the other day.

‘No one’s here, are they?’ Leon asked, his tired eyes glancing around the house then over his shoulder like someone was watching him.

‘No.’ Fliss crossed her arms, worried she shouldn’t have invited him in. Why did he look so worried? ‘So are you okay?’

‘No, not really.’ Leon brushed his hair out of his face revealing the shadows under his eyes.

‘What’s up? You look like you haven’t slept.’

‘Sleep has been hard to come by this past week. The damage to my flat was malicious so I’m staying on my mate’s sofa for the moment. It’s not exactly providing me with comfortable sleep and I’ve been a bit of an insomniac.’

‘No wonder you looked knackered. Let me get you some caffeine.’ Fliss led Leon to the kitchen. Against her better judgement, she decided to invite him in rather than push him and his haunted expression away.

‘It’s been one nightmare after another recently. If sorting out my flat wasn’t problem enough Carrie has broken her leg. Strapped up on traction in some French hospital somewhere. Won’t be fit to work for weeks. It means I’m now in charge of this project. I should be delighted, really. It’s not as if I liked the woman and I’ve been working towards promotion for ages, but the timing couldn’t be worse. Anyway, none of that is your concern and I’m here to sort out whatever your problem is. Please don’t quit.’

‘How did you know I wanted to?’

‘I could sense it in your voice. And I wouldn’t blame you with Carrie’s gung-ho attitude, but I’m in charge now.’ Leon smiled at Fliss and a shiver ran down her spine. He really was astonishingly good-looking despite being more dishevelled than at their first meeting. ‘So I’m hoping to convince you otherwise.’

Fliss was sure he could convince her of anything, but she wasn’t comfortable doing the diaries. ‘The video camera isn’t working. I tried to do an entry last night and by the time I was done the light was out. And even if it weren’t for the technical difficulties, I said something in my video that I didn’t want to. I revealed too much of myself and I don’t want the whole nation getting to know my innermost thoughts when they’re things I might not choose to share with my own mother or daughter. It’s made me realise this isn’t for me. I’m sorry, I know that’s not what you wanted to hear.’ She spewed it all out, scared he’d stop her mid-sentence.

‘Why did you apply in the first place?’

‘It’s a long answer,’ Fliss said. ‘I’ll tell you if you don’t go all judgemental on me. You never know, if the story is long enough it might help you sleep.’ Leon really did look like he should be tucked under a duvet.

‘Promise. No judgement. No nodding off.’ Leon gave his scout’s honour salute, proving his word.

Fliss hadn’t planned on inviting Leon in, let alone chatting with him, but his expression seemed genuinely interested. And she wanted to know more about his nightmare week. She’d noticed he was deflecting the conversation her way rather than elaborating on his own situation. ‘Shall we sit outside?’ Leon agreed so they took their coffees and sat on the patio chairs facing the lawn.

‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’ Fliss couldn’t work out if his concern was genuine or just with the show in mind.

‘Yes, especially if it stops me worrying about my own rubbish for a while. Carrie has left me with a right schedule mess to sort out. I’d much rather listen to you all day if you don’t mind telling me.’

Fliss took the look in Leon’s hazel eyes to be honest and open. Without having known it until now, she wanted someone to talk to. Leon seemed to fit the bill. ‘We’ve been trying for what feels like ages. Two years in total, but if you stick together all of the weekend days that my husband is here, it’s more like a year. So my husband, Ben, is convinced it’s down to timing and he’s not worried in the slightest. He’s quite content with having Hollie as a daughter, as am I, but there’s also such a strong desire within me to have another child so she can grow up with siblings like I did with my sisters. And now, the longer it takes for me to get pregnant, the more convinced I am that there’s a problem. We just don’t see eye to eye on getting it checked out.’

‘Why apply to the programme then? Couldn’t you go to the GP and ask them to test you?’

‘I was going to, but if there is a problem we have no way of funding any treatment. We already have a child and I’m too old to qualify for any financial help. But then my friend Ange told me about the programme and how it was willing to help on the money side of things. We’d have to pay for it ourselves and we can’t afford to, not with all our outgoings.’

‘So why apply when your husband doesn’t want to take part?’

Fliss knew it seemed odd. ‘Because even if he never wants to get his side of things checked out, I need some kind of peace of mind. I want to know if there’s anything wrong with me, whether I’m causing the problem. The thinking about it and not knowing is driving me a bit crazy so at least if I know it’s not me, it might stop me worrying for no reason. I guess it would have been silly to pass on the opportunity, and besides, I have a gut feeling this might be my only chance.’

‘And does your gut still tell you that?’

‘It’s so churned up it reckons something hasn’t agreed with me. I didn’t think about what would be involved when I applied and I’ve had butterflies in my stomach ever since. Like I said, I did it for me and I never thought about the consequences of keeping it from my family. I need to tell them about it. I’m just not ready to at the moment.’

‘Is that why you don’t want to take part any more? In case they find out?’

It was hard to tell if Leon was enquiring out of politeness or in an attempt to get her back onboard. ‘Partly. And the whole concept of putting my deepest desires out there in public. I tried to do a video diary and, aside from ballsing up operating the camera, it was also the most uncomfortable experience of my life, and that’s saying something when you’ve given birth.’ Fliss flicked away a strand of hair from her face, conscious that her updo was failing miserably.

Leon laughed. A refreshing and quick ‘Ha’ that filled the air and made her smile. ‘I’ve always preferred it behind the camera for precisely that reason. Not that I’d know anything about it being more uncomfortable than labour, but in this job I’ve learnt it takes a certain type of person to perform in front of the lens. But what you’re doing isn’t about a performance, you just need to be yourself. Tell people what it’s really like to go through what you’re going through the same as you’re telling me now.’

‘It’s not the same as this,’ Fliss said, as she flexed both hands tight around her mug as she took a sip. ‘What I’m telling you now won’t go any further unless you tell someone. You’re not going to, are you?’

‘My lips are sealed.’ Leon gestured as such.

‘If I say something on camera it’s documented for life. I can’t go back on it and it’ll be broadcast whether I like it or not. I’ve got no control in this. Just like I’ve got no control over my body.’

‘If there’s something you don’t want to keep, I can delete it if need be. It doesn’t have to be so out of your control.’

‘Really?’ Fliss’s brow furrowed. ‘Why would you do that? Surely you’d get into trouble?’

Leon shrugged. ‘I’m in charge now, remember. No one would know any different and, if it puts your mind at rest, I guess it’s worth the risk.’

‘You’re only saying that because you’re in charge. My dropping out is going to cause you problems.’

‘Look, I’m not going to lie to you. I could do without someone leaving the programme at this point in time. Your staying will save me a headache, but I asked because I wanted to know if this was right for you. I’ve got other applicants waiting, but I want the people it’ll help most involved in the programme. I think you fit that bill. Look, if you’re worried about doing the filming we can have a practice run here. I can set up the video and we can chat like we are now. Nice and relaxed.’

Fliss sighed and studied the garden. She hadn’t planned to be talked round like this. But saying her reasons out loud had made her realise she needed to give herself this opportunity. And with Leon now in charge, maybe it wouldn’t be quite as scary as she’d originally thought. Returning Leon’s intense stare, she decided to go with it. ‘I never will know unless I do it, so let’s do this practice run.’

Chapter Six

‘How do you want to do this?’ Leon asked. ‘You can just talk to the camera or I can ask you some questions.’

The camera was all set up and staring at Fliss from the patio. ‘Can you ask questions, please? I didn’t know what to say the other night.’ She was finding talking to Leon therapeutic. He was a stranger, but somehow that made it easier to open up. It made her realise that, for some time now, she’d had no one to talk to outside of her relationship. Yes, she had her online community and she’d spoken to Ange on the phone, but aside from that she’d not spoken to anyone in the flesh. She’d put up a façade for her family, preventing her from admitting their dual lifestyle was causing them problems.

‘I’m no interviewer, though, so be warned, the questions I come up with might be rubbish. Just expand more on what you’ve already told me.’ Leon smiled. It was half hidden by the beard-length stubble situation, but it provided reassurance all the same.

‘I’m sure your questions will be far more tactful than anything Carrie would have come up with. Besides, you can edit out any rubbish attempts.’

‘True. So start by telling me how long you’ve been trying for a baby. Remember the audience don’t know anything about your story.’

Fliss tried to ignore the camera and spoke directly to Leon. ‘We started trying not long after moving here to Kent. I was naïve and thought I would fall pregnant again quickly like I did with my daughter, but I didn’t factor in how much less we would see each other now I’m here and my husband is in London all week. It didn’t worry me for the first year as our time together was so much less than before, but as time went on I started to suspect there might be a problem.’ Fliss shifted in the seat, trying to be relaxed like she was before.

Leon checked the camera then his head popped up and again he smiled his reassurance. ‘If you thought there was a problem, why didn’t you go and get it checked out then?’

‘I wanted to, but there was so much going on since we moved here. Hollie starting at her new school, decorating the house and flat, setting up my own business. Time passes so quickly and before you know it, it’s become like the dental check-up you need. You know you should book it, but you never seem to get round to it. Plus we’ve been so ready to put it down to the fact we only see each other two days out of seven. It’s pretty hard to co-ordinate having sex during your fertile period when you’re not in the same county.’

‘Haven’t you ever done like they show you in the movies and yelled at him to come home because you’re ovulating?’ Leon grinned. ‘Told you I wouldn’t be very good at asking questions.’

Fliss returned the smile and appreciated that it was a subject somehow better tackled with humour. ‘No, sadly it doesn’t work quite like they show you on the telly. I tried those kits out a couple of times.’ Fliss considered how much intimate detail she wanted to share with a stranger. Having Leon here reminded her that whatever she said would be heard. The process was less anonymous than sitting with a camera revealing private thoughts. It was making her edit what she said before she even spoke. ‘Let’s just say they can be a bit messy and inconvenient. I think if Ben worked a bit nearer it’s something I might have pursued. But it’s not much good finding out you’re ovulating on a Tuesday, knowing you won’t see your husband until Friday night.’

‘Has Ben ever tried to find work locally so you’re not in this split-home situation?’ Leon arched his eyebrow as if it was trying to form a question mark.

Fliss deemed the eyebrow was judging her and found herself giving it an evil stare. She wanted to talk about fertility, not her relationship, but then of course the two went hand in hand.

‘It would involve too much upheaval. Ben would have to take a pay cut or set up his own business. There’s barely room for my set-up so we’d need to move house so Ben could have a home office. We switched to this lifestyle so we’d have the best of both worlds and we have.’ Sort of. There Fliss went again trying to convince someone else that they lived the ideal lifestyle when she no longer believed it herself. ‘We have tried to synchronise Ben’s annual leave on occasions, but that hasn’t worked.’ Fliss shifted on her seat, the questions making her uncomfortable.

Leon’s eyebrow remained raised as if making an assessment of everything she was saying. ‘I apologise for asking you this one, but it’s something I can cut out if you’re not happy with it. A lot of people may regard it as greedy to want a second child when you already have one. So why do you want another child?’

Fliss studied the lawn borders. Would people really consider it to be greedy? Did Leon? ‘It’s difficult to explain, but I’ll do my best. Most of it is down to maternal instinct. Ever since Hollie was little I knew I wanted to do it again. It’s that special bond you create with that little person knowing they depend entirely on you and trust you implicitly. I know I’m lucky to have that bond with Hollie, but ever since she was small, I wanted her to also have a bond with a little brother or sister.’ She returned her gaze to Leon hoping that he understood. ‘The older she gets the more I think she’ll benefit from it. I loved growing up with my sisters and being in the middle. I always had someone looking out for me and someone to look out for. I still do. I’ve always thought Hollie would be a wonderful older sister.’ Fliss stopped at saying she wanted another child to fill the void. The loneliness that was becoming more overwhelming the more independent Hollie became. ‘Do you understand what I mean?’

Leon’s eyebrow relaxed at long last. ‘I don’t have any children and I don’t think I want any.’

It was Fliss’s turn to be judgemental. ‘What? You don’t want any? Surely you’ve thought about it?’ Fliss didn’t know anyone who didn’t want children. Didn’t have children, for that matter. Perhaps that was because her single friends had fallen by the wayside over the years; not intentionally – it just seemed to have happened like that.

Leon shifted. His relaxed stance behind the camera became upright and tense. He looked like a horse ready to bolt, her question making him more than a little uncomfortable. ‘I’m not in the right set of circumstances to have children and I’m not sure I ever will be.’

‘And if you were?’ Fliss prompted, curiosity getting the better of her.

‘Then I’d think about it then, not before.’ Leon’s tone put an end to the subject.

A cold shiver went along Fliss’s back as warmth left the garden with the breeze. His expression had changed. The soft edges of his face were now hard. She’d played the part of open book so well and, with a few questions, he’d closed his own front cover in her face. Clearly it didn’t work both ways. ‘Sorry I asked.’ Fliss no longer wanted to chat with him so readily. She’d been stupid to see him as some anonymous listener she could offload to without considering he’d have his own stance on wanting a second child. Or wanting any, for that matter.

‘No, I’m the one who should be saying sorry. It’s a bit close to home, that’s all.’ Leon brushed his hair away from his face.

‘Care to tell?’ Fliss studied his intense hazel eyes, which seemed to be saying so much when he was saying so little.

‘Another time, perhaps, and not in front of the camera.’

‘Oh.’ Fliss was again conscious of her decision to be on film. If Leon wasn’t happy to be recorded after convincing her to do just that, with what seemed like her best interests at heart, perhaps he was trying to get her back onboard again, nothing more.

‘Only because I like to keep my work and private life separate.’ The softness in Leon’s expression returned. ‘This chat should be all about you and what you’re going through.’

Guilt blistered under Fliss’s skin at the pained glint in Leon’s eyes. There was something making him hurt that he clearly didn’t want to talk about and she was pressing him for details. ‘We can finish up now.’ Fliss didn’t want to carry on.

Leon switched off the camera and sat on the patio chair once more. ‘Let me ask you one more question, just for fun.’

‘Okay.’ Fliss wasn’t too sure what it was going to be, considering his change in mood.

‘What items are under your bed?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Someone once told me you can learn a lot about a person by asking them what’s under their bed. So I thought I would ask you.’ Leon stared at her with an intensity that made her shiver.

‘Surely they meant as some kind of chat-up line, not as an interview question.’ Fliss tried to break the spell his eyes were weaving.

‘I’m not interviewing now, I’m being inquisitive. After all, surely what’s under the bed could relate a whole lot to the activity taking place on top of the bed.’

‘Exactly,’ Fliss said, slightly alarmed at how revealing her answer might be, her cheeks flaming at the thought. ‘What if I’m into whips and chains? The stuff under your bed is meant to be private.’

‘I know, and that’s why it’s such a good question. I should have guessed whips and chains were your kind of thing.’ Leon winked.

A hot glow of mortification rushed through Fliss’s veins. ‘They’re not! I just meant I might have, but if that were the case I wouldn’t have brought it up as an example.’

‘What is under your bed, then? No lying to cover up your secrets. Here…’ Leon fiddled with the camera. ‘It’s off, so this is between the two of us.’

‘In that case, you should answer as well.’

‘Okay, but you go first.’

Was Fliss falling for a trick question? He hadn’t been willing to share earlier, but now there was a spark in him that had caught her unawares. ‘There’s a lot of dust for starters. I can’t remember the last time I moved everything out and gave it a good vacuuming.’ Fliss tried to remember what was in the storage boxes under her bed. In view of his comments about whips and chains she certainly wasn’t going to mention the rabbit hidden underneath there. ‘A box with my hairstyling equipment. My weekend-away bag that never seems to get any use and a worry doll that was under my pillow and I’ve never bothered to retrieve from the floor.’

‘What’s a worry doll?’ Leon asked, his eyebrows in perplexed mode.

‘My sister Caroline gave it to me. It’s a tiny doll you’re supposed to pass all your worries to and then you pop it under your pillow when you go to bed. Doing that should help you sleep better at night.’ Fliss flicked her hair, aware that perhaps telling him about the rabbit would have revealed less about her personality.

‘And does talking to the doll help you sleep?’ Leon’s eyebrows maintained their quizzical stance.

‘I only managed to do it for a week and I didn’t notice any difference. I always wake up at slight sounds in the night. I think it’s because of being alone most of the time. Some primal instinct telling me I need to protect my home and my child.’

‘What about your husband’s side of the bed? What does he have stored underneath?’

Fliss hadn’t even thought about Ben’s side. It was a double bed for one, with occasional visits from her husband. ‘There’s nothing under there that belongs to him. Only a few bits in his bedside table and I’ve never bothered to see what they are.’ Fliss cringed at the fact the answers were more telling than she’d ever imagined. And what really irked her was that if Leon went on to ask what was under her husband’s bed in their London flat she would have little to no idea. She’d been there, of course, but only for short weekend visits with Hollie in tow or for the occasional weekend break to fit in some Christmas shopping. During the handful of visits, nosing under beds hadn’t been a priority. Why would it be? But as Leon’s question was making her realise, it could reveal very intimate details about a person. ‘What about you, then? You said you would answer the same question. What’s under your bed?’ she asked before he moved on to the parts of her life she realised she didn’t know enough about to answer.

‘Why don’t I show you?’

‘What?’ If this was his way of chatting her up it needed work.

‘Well, not my bed, but my flat? You can come and assess exactly how much work needs to be done. But I warn you, it’s not going to be pretty.’

Chapter Seven

The drive to Leon’s flat took less than half an hour as he drove them along the Thanet Way towards Herne Bay. It was one of the areas they’d looked at when considering the move, so Fliss knew the area a little, but had never visited for anything other than house viewings.

‘Lucky that you live so close,’ Fliss commented as they made their way out of the car towards a plush set of new-build flats.

Leon stopped suddenly, turning back towards his car. ‘I’m not sure I can go in.’ He placed his hands on the roof, leaning forward so his hair covered his face.

Fliss thought he was getting ready to throw up. ‘What’s up? You never told me what the damage is that I’ll be dealing with.’ She’d imagined some damaged plasterwork after a missed punch.

Leon stood up straighter, taking in deep lungfuls of air. ‘I haven’t been back to the flat since it happened. Sorry, I didn’t think it would be a problem.’

Fliss placed a hand on his back, mummy autopilot taking over, knowing he needed comforting. ‘Since what happened?’

‘The fire. It was an arson attack. The place was a crime scene for a while so I wasn’t allowed back, but to be honest I’ve been avoiding returning.’

Fliss soothed his back while wondering if the site of an arson attack was really something she should be taking on as a job. ‘Were you here when it happened?’ She figured he must have been judging by his current reaction.

Leon took his hands off the car and pressed them on his skull. His breathing was steadier but he still looked scared, like the thoughts were haunting him. ‘I got woken up by the fire alarm in the middle of the night. Fortunately the fire didn’t really take hold so I managed to put it out myself. Didn’t get to see the worst of the damage, though, and I’ve been sleeping on my mate Greg’s sofa ever since. I just keep thinking about how much worse it could have been. I was lucky.’

‘No wonder you haven’t been sleeping.’ Fliss realised she was still rubbing his back. ‘Would it help if I went in first? I could take some pictures on my phone. Then you could see the damage without having to go in.’

‘Thank you.’ Leon took a deep breath. ‘But I think I need to go in to stop myself from imagining it’s worse than it is. This sounds a bit silly, but do you mind holding my hand while we go in? I used to get panic attacks when I was a kid. I haven’t had one for nearly twenty years, but I got pretty close then. If I squeeze your hand it means I want to head out.’

Fliss offered her hand without question. Leon was all muscle, but beyond the tough exterior he was as scared as anyone would be in that situation. She definitely wouldn’t want to rush returning to her house under the same circumstances.

‘Have the police found out who did it?’ It was horrible to think this was an intentional act. Leon didn’t strike her as the kind of person who would be in the type of circles where this might happen.

They walked towards the building, Leon tense, but his grip steady. ‘They’re still working on it. They think it might be linked to a spate of recent arson attacks, although so far they’ve only been on commercial properties. Apparently it would have been a lot worse if they’d used an accelerant. At least my fire alarm was working. I hate to think what might have happened otherwise.’

‘Don’t dwell on thoughts like that. We just need to go and assess the damage that’s there. No thoughts about how much worse it could have been.’ Fliss squeezed his hand as they went into the building.

‘It’s supposed to be me squeezing your hand.’ Leon summoned the lift and, once they were inside, pressed the button for the top floor.

‘Just wanted to let you know I’m here.’ Fliss didn’t have to do this, but within a very short time she felt like she’d formed a bond with Leon. If he was going to be there for her fertility woes, she was going to help him get through this moment.

The lift arrived at the top floor and Leon led the way towards his flat. As soon as he opened the door the amount of damage was evident. The whole entrance was black from floor to ceiling from smoke damage. The remains of a doormat were melted and moulded into the blistered laminate floor. Leon gave it a kick to try and move it, but it was well and truly stuck.

‘Is it better or worse than you expected?’ Fliss was shocked at the damage having never seen the after-effects of a fire close up.

Leon let go of her hand and put his to the floor with a splosh. Clearly still wet from putting the fire out. ‘It’s a mess, but I was expecting it to be awful. It’s all fairly localised like the fire officer told me. The smoke damage didn’t even reach the other end of the hallway. I think I’ve just amplified the event in my head,’ he said, without looking at her.

‘I think it would have been scary whatever size the fire was.’

Leon reached his full height again and wiped his wet hand against his jeans. They moved along the hallway with Leon checking each room as they passed. Fortunately it seemed all the doors had been closed and, as they were fire retardant, the damage had only reached the outside. ‘So do you think you’ll be able to help out? I know it’s probably not your usual kind of work project.’

They reached the end of the hall where the walls appeared to be the same colour they originally were. The standard magnolia Fliss imagined every flat had been covered with when they were built. Leon opened the door to a thankfully unaffected open-plan kitchen and lounge.

‘Of course I’ll help. I’ll need to do a bit of research, but it doesn’t seem too big a job.’

‘I’ll make us coffee. Then I might have to go round sniffing my furniture to see if it stinks as badly as the hallway does.’ Having faced the concern of seeing the place, it was good to see Leon appeared calmer now they were in the flat.

Fliss went over and sniffed the sofa for him. ‘Seems okay.’ She sent him a cheery smile, trying to provide some reassurance. ‘Nothing a bit of Febreze won’t fix.’

‘Take a seat in that case and tell me if you think there’s any chance you can rescue my hallway. My decorating skills are rubbish, which is why I got somewhere that didn’t need me to do anything. Until now, that is.’

Leon came over with their mugs and placed them on the coffee table. Fliss noticed the flat didn’t give much away about him. Everything was how she imagined it would have looked in the sales catalogue.

‘Do they think they’ll catch someone?’ It would make Fliss feel safer working here if they did.

‘They’re checking all the local CCTV footage in the hope of seeing something. If it’s a serial offender, hopefully they’ll get caught soon, but I wouldn’t want this happening to anyone else.’ Leon sat so close to her they were touching.

‘Do you think they’ll come back?’ Fliss was rather glad they’d not purchased a place here or she’d be worried sick. Even being half an hour down the road, the thought of someone going round and setting properties alight in search of some kind of sick high was upsetting.

‘No. The fire people said it was a random attack. I just got unlucky.’

Fliss picked up her mug, aware of how close Leon was. ‘Are you going to stay here tonight?’ The front door wasn’t damaged enough to stop it functioning. With a bit of tidying he could stay if he wanted to.

Leon flicked his long dark hair back and his piercing hazel eyes looked straight at her. He was hard to read. He was six foot plus of solid man, but something told her anyone faced with a fire in their own home would have been scared shitless by the event. ‘Not yet. My mate Greg has said I can stay with him as long as I need to. I’m going to wait until the hallway is redecorated before I consider coming back. I keep getting flashbacks. That’s why I don’t want to stay here at the moment. It’s only because it’s so fresh in my memory. They won’t come back, but it would be a great help if, when I come into the flat, I’m not instantly reminded of what’s happened. Do you reckon you’ll be able to do the work?’

It wasn’t a massive job other than the technicalities of getting rid of the smoke damage. It would neatly fill the delay on her next project as long as Leon didn’t mind her fitting it in on the days she was free. ‘The building work at Westbrook mansion has delayed my start there, so I’m free until that’s finished. I might have to shuffle things about if they want me to start, if you don’t mind that.’

‘So you can start straightaway?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Fantastic. Let me know how much it’ll be when you’ve decided on what can be done out there and we can start sorting that mess out.’

After finishing their coffees, Fliss inspected the hall with more scrutiny while Leon checked his office. For now she would concentrate on striping back the damage, once that was sorted she would think about how to make the interior reflect Leon’s personality. There was more to him than what she’d discovered so far and she was going to enjoy learning more about him.

Chapter Eight

Mummyto3boys: Have you done any video diaries yet? I’ve done one and I felt like a right pleb. Six-thirty in the morning and I decided there was no way I was doing it without make-up on. Mark thought his luck was in when he saw me glamming up that early in the morning.

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