with Richard that I’m jumping to conclusions. I stiffen as I remember how unreasonable he was. I grip the side of my chair.
‘Do you think he might be cheating on me?’ she asks eventually.
I wouldn’t know, I think. I didn’t even know about Richard. ‘That’s not a question for me to answer.’
‘But you’ve seen lots of married couples, haven’t you? You must have an idea.’ I wince, her words stinging. I had no idea about Richard until I saw the photos.
She puts her hand to her head and the sleeve of her stylish grey cardigan falls down slightly. I catch sight of a flash of darkness on her wrist. She sees me looking and quickly pulls it down. I wonder if she has scars on other parts of her body as well as her face, or if this is something else, another injury.
‘What makes you think he might be cheating?’
‘It’s just a feeling. We split up for a bit a while ago. It was just supposed to be a break. He suggested it. And I wondered if it was because he’d met someone else. But then he came back to me. We’d both seen other people when we were apart, but it wasn’t the same. We agreed that the break-up was a mistake, that we were meant for each other. When we first got back together we were all over each other. But it didn’t last for long. Now we’re both working such long hours we never see each other. And I wonder if he’s really working at all, or if he’s met someone else.’ She wraps her arms around herself as if to comfort herself.
‘Have you been cheated on before?’ If she has, it might cloud her judgement, make her see signs that just aren’t there.
‘Yes,’ she says quietly, staring at the floor. ‘Years ago I was in a relationship with someone who was seeing other people all through the relationship. He used to shout at me too, accuse me of all sorts of things. I could never please him.’ She glances up at me, meeting my eyes and searching for understanding. I nod, and shift my seat closer towards her, narrowing the gap between us. I want to reach out and comfort her. I’ve been that person too, when I was younger, dating men who didn’t love or respect me.
‘The thing I’m worried about is… well, I want a baby. Peter won’t even discuss it. I wanted us to start trying a long time ago. And when we got back together I thought we would at least talk about it. But he won’t entertain the idea. Recently, more and more of my friends have got pregnant, and each time I’ve wondered why it couldn’t be me. Why Peter isn’t interested.’
‘That must be hard,’ I say, looking at her intently. When I’d become pregnant with Charlie, it had been a surprise. Richard and I hadn’t even considered having a family together, but once we’d had time to adjust, we’d both been delighted with the news.
‘So hard—’ Her voice breaks.
‘He won’t talk to you about it?’
‘No. The only thing he’s said is that I wouldn’t have time for children as I work too many hours. Which is ridiculous, because he works just as hard. We’d both need to cut down.’
I nod.
‘I’ve wanted a baby for so long,’ Danielle says. ‘When I married Peter, I thought children would follow.’ She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, trying not to smudge her make-up. Her body has hunched in on itself on the sofa and she looks so alone.
‘I’d change if a baby came. If I had a child, they’d be the centre of my universe. It would be so different from my childhood.’
My ears prick up at this, wondering what kind of childhood she had, wondering how that’s influencing her desperation for a baby. If she’s subconsciously trying to put something right, trying to correct something.
‘OK,’ I say, hoping she’ll continue.
Danielle looks at her feet. ‘There’s something else. Something he says to me. I know it’s not true, but it makes me feel rubbish, it undermines my confidence.’ She shifts her weight from one side to the other on the sofa.
‘What does he say?’ I speak softly, encouraging her to open up, to tell me whatever it is that is hurting her so much.
‘He says I wouldn’t be a good mother.’
I resist the urge to tell her that of course she’d be a good mother, like I would say