Trust soon becomes the most important word in our marriage. I have to trust that Anthony knows what he’s doing, and he has to trust me to let him. The trouble is, if he knew just how little he could trust me, it would tear down the foundations of our marriage and it’s doubtful they would ever be rebuilt.
I’m not sure why, but all my reasoning and common sense have gone out of the window. Every time we have sex, I am left feeling guilty that I am firmly going against his wishes and at possibly the worst time in our life. If everything comes tumbling down and I am pregnant, I may be bringing a child into an uncertain future.
We tell nobody about our predicament and it’s business as usual. Today, I’m on a shopping trip with Fleur and as we browse the rails of our favourite boutique, I wonder if I should select a different size. I mean, surely, I’m pregnant by now because I’ve been trying to have sex as much as possible without arousing Anthony’s suspicions.
Fleur holds up a revealing gold dress and says with excitement, “What do you think? I’m guessing Anton would love this.”
Nodding, I smile my encouragement. “Try it on. You’ll look fabulous.”
She nods. “Yes, I expect I will.”
Giggling, she heads towards the changing rooms and I grab the dresses I’ve been considering and join her.
We take adjoining changing rooms and she says loudly, “You know, babe, I’m so excited about my holiday to the Maldives. Do you think Anton will propose?”
Thinking back to my conversation with him on her birthday, I doubt it but just say with excitement, “I hope so. It would be good to go to a wedding. I can’t remember the last one I did.”
She giggles and says quickly, “Maybe I should throw in something suitable for a beach wedding, just in case. You know, Anton’s such a typical man, he wouldn’t give a thought to the fact I need to prepare for something as big as this. Yes, perhaps we should check out that bridal shop a few doors down and see if they have anything suitable.”
“Great, I love a good bridal shop.”
I turn my attention to the dresses I chose and stare at my stomach critically in the mirror. It doesn’t look any different. In fact, I don’t feel any different and wonder if my campaign is working yet. Perhaps the pill is still in my system and will take a while to leave. That depresses me and I gaze longingly in the mirror, imagining a baby bump proudly displayed for all to see.
Sighing, I choose what I want and head out, meeting Fleur outside the curtains and she holds up the gold dress and says happily, “I’m taking this. We’re due to attend an awards ceremony soon. This will be perfect on the red carpet.”
As she heads off to pay, I envy her. She has no worries at all other than Anton popping the question. Money is an endless pit for her and I must now watch every penny.
I know I shouldn’t, but I suddenly feel angry. It’s all Anthony’s fault. How could he be so careless to gamble with our future like this? He should have done things the right way and then we wouldn’t be in this mess.
Fleur calls out, “Hurry up, Arabella. I want to catch the bridal shop before Anton’s back from training.”
Rushing out, I make to put the dresses back and as I do, my hand curls tightly around the beautiful white dress that I imagine myself wearing in full bloom. I’m so annoyed at Anthony, I take the dress to the counter, anyway. He owes me this at least, so I smile at the cashier and take out my credit card. One dress won’t break us and I’m pretty sure he’s already sorted our little problem, anyway.
I watch as the cashier gently wraps the dress in tissue paper and places it carefully in the designer bag before swiping my card.
Fleur has wandered off to look at a rail of jumpers and my heart beats as I wait for the transaction to go through. I somehow already know when cashier looks up in surprise and says, “I’m sorry Madam, have you got another form of payment? There appears to be a problem with your card?”
I watch Fleur turn around with interest and blush as I produce another. “Try this one. I think the other may be an old one.”
The cashier looks at me sympathetically and swipes the new card and we wait in silence. Once again, she shakes her head and says in a whisper, “I’m sorry, this one has been declined.”
Fleur wanders over and says loudly, “Bloody banks. This happened to me the other week. There was some problem nationally with the software, most inconvenient if you ask me.”
She looks at the cashier. “That must be what’s happening here.”
The cashier says nothing because she knows as well as I do that it’s no bug in the system. Quickly, I say, “It’s fine, can you just put it aside and I’ll be back tomorrow when the problem’s sorted?”
The cashier nods, but Fleur waves her hand and produces her own card. “Here, use mine. You can pay me back when you get the problem sorted.”
I watch in horror as the cashier uses Fleur’s card and wonder what I should do. The trouble is, I can’t form any excuse, so just smile gratefully. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back when we get home.”
Fleur nods, “Whenever. We won’t have to pay for a month anyway, not that it would matter either way.”
As the cashier hands me the dress, I feel like a total fraud. Anthony warned me about this and, like a selfish idiot, I ignored him. Now I’m in a situation I can’t control, and it’s all because of my own stupidity.
We head outside and Fleur looks at me with excitement. “Come on, let’s go and try on wedding dresses. It will be such fun.”
We head to the bridal shop and once again, I envy her. Why did I take our life for granted and not prepare for something like this? If we do lose everything, I’m not sure I could cope. When you’ve had everything, it’s a long way down to rock bottom and there’s something inside my head telling me that’s exactly where I’m heading.
* * *
After a fun-filled afternoon, we head home and I quickly stash the dress in my wardrobe and hope the problem goes away. Then I race around the house, looking everywhere for any money lying around that I can use to pay Fleur back. I rustle up most of it before turning to Anthony’s wardrobe in desperation. He must have some notes stashed in one of his pockets, so I rummage through them all. I manage to find a few crumpled notes and congratulate myself on a well-executed plan because I now have enough to pay Fleur back without Anthony being any the wiser. As I check the last pocket, I pull out a piece of paper that I almost disregard until I see the heading. ‘The Royal Hotel.’
I’m not sure why, but it makes me stop and unfold the paper and read what’s written and at first I don’t understand what I’m looking at.
It appears to be a receipt for an overnight stay about a month ago. It costs a huge sum of money and I can see why. The best suite of rooms, champagne, caviar and room service—for two.
As I sit on the bench in the dressing room, my heart starts pounding. I look again and the words blur before my eyes. As I cast my mind back to the date on the receipt, I remember vaguely that Anthony was away on business. He was gone overnight, but he told me it was in Manchester. This room is one of the best in London and I feel sick as I stare at it. This is no business night away judging by the itemised entries. What the hell is he playing at and who with?