It had been less than an hour since Lucas had interrupted them and Bernadette had gone back to her seat, but it felt like a whole lot longer. When Bernadette had excused herself, it was all Hayley could do not to grab her hand and beg her to stay. Not because she was afraid, because she wasn’t. She’d never feared Lucas. Dreaded him, maybe, but never feared him.
Predictably, though, after the initial dig about the wine, and his frosty request to have a word, he’d adopted an attitude of complete innocence.
‘How’s your flight going?’
Just like that. Like he hadn’t been an aggressive dick to her just a couple of hours before, like he hadn’t embarrassed her, tried to intimidate her, been rude to the passengers sitting near her on the plane. As always, she’d plastered on a smile and gone along with the act. And the Oscar for Best Imitation of A Happily Married Wife Goes To…
‘Fine.’
He’d run his fingers through his hair, the way he always did when he was antagonised or had something on his mind. Usually, she’d jump in to fill the space and to smooth the issue over before he even had to explain it. Not today.
‘Look, I’m sorry, darling. For earlier. That was… unacceptable. I was just tired. And irritated. And I guess I haven’t decompressed yet from everything back home.’
‘I get it,’ she’d lied with a shrug. She didn’t get it. Why was she the metaphorical punching bag for every bad day he ever had? And shouldn’t today be a great day? First day of their holiday, off to the sun, just the two of them… in different cabins because he saw the opportunity to boost his own ego while trashing hers. None of which she said aloud. That’s when it had occurred to her that she spent a lot of her time not saying what she thought aloud.
‘And when I saw you drinking alcohol again, it just tipped me over the edge. You know you shouldn’t.’
It would have been easier not to argue, but she’d been done with internalising every thought. ‘I know I shouldn’t get plastered and I know that I shouldn’t drink more than a few units a week. I’m on a break from the fertility drugs, so, strictly speaking, the alcohol ban isn’t in play. Lucas, I’m not going to keep arguing with you about this. I’m a grown woman and this is my body.’
‘One that’s supposed to be carrying my child,’ he’d spat back sharply.
‘Your child? Not ours?’ she’d challenged him.
He’d paused, hands on hips like a petulant child before exhaling. ‘Jesus Christ, Hayley.’
She’d wondered what he would do if she were simply to walk away from him right then, to go back down to her seat, and just get on with the important business of enjoying her flight. Sure, he earned far more than her, but she contributed a fair salary to their joint income, so this was as much her holiday as his. She’d earned it. She was coming off another year of teaching kids who had their challenging moments, while filling herself with fertility drugs and going through a punishing regime of fitness and sacrifice. Surely, she was entitled to one day off from his bullshit rules?
Perhaps it was Bernadette’s story and her strength. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Or maybe it was just time that was giving Hayley an irresistible urge to stop holding back, to fight for herself, to stand up to him and use her voice.
‘Lucas, why do you want this?’ Her voice had been calm.
‘Want what?’ He’d regarded her with absolute puzzlement, those piercing brown eyes burning right into her soul. She used to stare into them for hours. One seductive glance and she’d be reduced to mush, desperate for him, needing him more than she’d ever needed anyone.
‘Me. Us. A family.’
That had seemed to take the wind out of his sails, and he’d leaned against the partition wall, then reached over and took her hand, turning it over, his thumb tracing the lines across her palm. ‘I don’t know how you can even ask me that. It’s because I love you. You know I do. I want…’ He’d searched for the words. ‘I want everything with you. I want us, I want our family and I know sometimes I let the stress of that get to me, but it’s only because I want it so badly. I don’t know why you can’t see that.’
This was the moment that the discussion would normally end, when she would assure him that she did see it, say she was sorry for doubting him and promise him that everything would be better. And he would tell her he loved her and say sorry again and then they’d maybe go to bed and make love until she repaired that connection, reminded herself why they were together, how much she loved him, how much he loved her. They would fuse themselves together again, and it would be great… until the next outburst. And then it would start the cycle all over again. But not today.
‘Maybe because you don’t show it.’
His eyes had narrowed. ‘Is this because I upgraded to business class?’
Hayley had almost laughed, but she’d stopped herself because she knew that would send him into orbit. ‘No. It’s because I just don’t understand. You say you love me, then you speak to me like you don’t. You say I’m everything, then you treat me like I’m nothing. You say you want me to be the mother of your children, then you act like I’m not good enough. I don’t understand, Lucas.’ Her voice was beginning to tremble, but she’d stuck with it despite the shock on his face. ‘Explain it to me. Tell me how that works.’
For a moment she’d thought he was going to open up, and perhaps right there, in the most bizarre of places, they were finally going to have a real conversation that would help them reach a new level of understanding and consideration. She should have known better.
He’d dropped her hand like a stone. ‘What the hell are you talking about? Seriously. Who the fuck have you been talking to that’s put this crap into your head?’
‘No one, I—’
‘I mean, what the hell is wrong with you, Hayley? Why do you feel the need to conjure up issues where there are none? The only problem we have is that you can’t get pregnant, and if we can get that sorted, then we’ll be fine.’
‘And if I can’t? What happens if I never get pregnant, Lucas?’ Her voice had cracked at the very suggestion of that.
His face darkened at the suggestion, and she knew why. Lucas Ford didn’t do failure. He never had. Everything he’d ever done, as his mother had been so fond of telling her, had been a roaring success. Top in every class. Captain of the rugby team all through school. Straight A grades in every subject. Accepted to do medicine at his first choice of university. Graduated top of his year. Got the most coveted placement in the best hospital. Damn, he’d made partner in a top Harley Street practice by the time he was thirty. The hard, devastating reality was that their inability to conceive was his first failure. Moments had passed. Many of them. His silence so long she had to clench her jaw to stop herself jumping in to fill it.
That’s where they were right now. Him silent. Staring at the wall. Her deflating, breath by breath, second by second.
Eventually, he spoke.
‘You can,’ he answered simply, refusing to accept the alternative.
‘But what if I can’t. What do we do then? Adopt? Use a surrogate?’ He’d always refused to discuss either option because, well, that would be to contemplate the failure of his chosen plan. Hayley had thought this through time and time again, but she’d always come to the conclusion that she had to trust it would be okay, had to go along with his absolute positivity that they would get the outcome they wanted. But what if they didn’t? Maybe it was time to face the answers to that question. In her head, she’d repeatedly denied confronting the uncomfortable truths, hanging every shred of hope she had left on this holiday. For months, it had been the mantra in the house. ‘We just need a break. Some relaxation. Let’s worry about that after St Lucia.’
There had been countless variations of those words since the last round of IVF failed.
There it was again. Failure. Hers. No wonder he was losing his temper, being impatient, treating her like she didn’t deserve him. To him, she was his failure.
Another realisation dawned.
If he called time on their marriage, he’d view that as a failure too. One of the first things he’d ever said to her was that his parents had been married for thirty-five years, and for him, divorce would never, ever be an option. At the time, she’d thought it was wonderful, a sign of true commitment. Now she saw it as a challenge. The answer to a question that she didn’t want to ask.
If he was faced with the failure to have a family or the failure of his marriage, which would he choose?
He could only pick one option. Live a life without children or divorce and marry someone who could give him the family he wanted.
Like a mist clearing to reveal a bloody great big flashing sign, it came to her – either way, he would view whatever choice he made as a failure. That’s why he was unbearable. That’s why he was so angry with her. That’s why his behaviour towards her had become utterly disparaging. She was his failure.
Flash those words out in bright blue neon.
Hayley Ford was his failure.
Her mind had gone off so far on the tangent of realisation that she almost forgot she’d asked him if they would try other pregnancy options.
‘No,’ he said simply.
‘That’s it? If I don’t get pregnant naturally, it’s just a “no” on any other options.’
‘We keep trying,’ he said, with gut-wrenching finality.
‘Wow. We keep trying. Do I have a say in this?’ Bernadette’s comments from earlier came rushing back. What about her? What did she really want? ‘What if I don’t want to keep trying? What if I want to take a break from this for a while?’
‘Don’t be so fucking ridiculous. Of course you want to keep trying. Why the hell would you want a break when our chances are diminishing with every month that passes?’ His exasperation boiled over and she flinched as he took a step towards her, his beautiful, man at GQ face flushing with anger. ‘What the hell has got into you? Why are we having this discussion now?’
This was yet another point when she’d usually back down but his utter disregard for her feelings, layered over a blanket of confidence from her conversations with Bernadette, emboldened her. ‘Because I think that I’m realising that maybe this isn’t about love any more. Maybe it’s about achievement. Not once have you asked me what I want to do.’
He lowered his voice and leaned right into her ear, so no one else could hear. ‘You ungrateful bitch.’
The words were more brutal than a slap across her face. And he wasn’t finished.
‘I have done everything for you. Everything. You’ve had thousands of pounds worth of treatments, every new innovation at your service and I have tolerated it because it was what we wanted. How the fuck do you think this looks for me? How can I tell my patients there is hope when I can’t even get my own fucking wife pregnant?’
She pulled her head back, gasping for breath. There was the reality. There was the truth. For months, they’d danced around the subject with no conclusive answers, just a husband who was getting angrier by the day.
When the plane lurched, and the fasten seatbelt sign lit up, she saw the cabin crew on the other side of the aisle pushing their trolley back to the galley, the young blonde guy gesturing to her to return to her seat. She didn’t need to be asked twice. She turned and walked away without saying a word.
Two weeks in St Lucia. One more chance to turn this round.
But she was beginning to doubt that chance was worth taking.