Czytaj książkę: «Waiting For You»
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.
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