Chapter 3
HELENA HUMMED TO herself, lost in thought as she sorted through the laundry, separating the whites from the colours.
Having loaded the machine, she set about preparing dinner.
She was only too aware of the Fifties housewife existence she appeared to be leading.
Admittedly, in the cliché she would have been married to Noah, and Raffy would have been her biological child.
But for all intents and purposes she was his mother, though he didn’t call her Mum – Noah had vetoed it, saying it was disrespectful to Raffy’s mother, Kate.
Helena thought of Kate often. She had been killed in a tragic car accident the year before Helena and Noah met, when Raffy had been only twelve months old.
She wondered what Kate would think of her, here in her place.
She wondered what her relationship with Noah had been like.
It made her feel insecure, in a way, picturing the man she loved so much so in love with someone else.
She was glad that they were in a new house, having made the move out of London a few years ago, a fresh start for them all.
Helena would have loved to be married to Noah; she had even proposed to him two years before.
She had got down on one knee in the kitchen, having prepared his favourite meal, and, trembling with excited nerves, asked him to marry her.
But instead of leaping into her arms with the resounding ‘Yes!’ that she had been hoping for, an uncomfortable silence had filled the room.
After what had felt like an eternity, she had stood up, and Noah had explained, quiet but resolute, that he didn’t want to marry again after Kate.
He had made up for it, sensing her disappointment and telling her how much he adored her, that he didn’t need a piece of paper to prove how much he loved her.
He had even given her a ring to wear on her ring finger, a promise that he would be with her forever.
She knew that was right, she knew he meant every word, how important she was to him, but her ego had felt crushed, and she had felt rejected at the very deepest level.
There was nothing she could have said to make herself more vulnerable, and in that moment, his refusal had felt like a mortal wound.
Anyway, that was in the past, she had accepted his reasoning and moved on.
She told herself that she was a modern woman in a modern relationship, that there was no such thing as a traditional family unit these days, and she prided herself on not needing the stereotypical marital status of her peers.
She would have liked the extra security of being married, and she was sad that she would never get to experience a wedding day, being the bride in a beautiful white dress, but she had Noah, and Raffy, and she knew there was no price too great to pay for that.
She remembered only too well the years of terrible dates, the suffocating loneliness she had felt before she met him. At least now she was no longer alone.
As she chopped vegetables for a ratatouille, she thought back to where it had all begun, at her work colleague’s engagement party.
Their eyes had met as they reached for the last glass of champagne on a passing tray.
Noah had insisted she take it. She had been struck mute by his good looks.
Her cheeks had mottled pink as she tried to untwist her tongue and thank him.
It turned out that her friend was marrying his boss.
A long conversation had followed, during which she had drunkenly poured her heart out about how shit single life was turning out to be.
She had seen a flicker of recognition in his eyes before realising that her chat was appalling - it was no wonder she was single.
She apologised for oversharing and ordered them a round of shots.
They had found themselves on the dance floor several tequilas later.
When he had messaged to ask her out for a drink the next day, she had sat grinning inanely for a good ten minutes, staring at her phone, reading and rereading the text.
Could this finally be the dark-haired, handsome man the psychic had told her she’d meet?
The initial stages of their romance could have been played out on the big screen.
For their first date they went to an open-air cinema in the park and watched a movie under the stars with a picnic and a bottle of champagne.
In the weeks that followed they went punting on the Serpentine, got drunk on margaritas, danced, wandered the streets of London hand in hand, spent hours kissing and had a lot of sex.
Noah even surprised her with a weekend in Paris, where they walked along the Seine, ate steak and frites in Montmartre under the shadows of the Sacré-C?ur, and visited the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa.
Helena had fallen deeply and head over heels in love with Noah, almost instantly.
It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she knew she would never feel like this about anyone again.
Noah became her world, and she seemed to have become a big part of his.
During the time they spent dating, Raffy had been in the care of his grandmother, Janine.
Noah’s mum had been over from New Zealand for her third month-long stay since Kate had passed away.
Her presence had allowed them some time alone, so that they could get to know each other properly.
When Helena had finally met Raffy, she had been incredibly nervous.
She had arrived at Noah’s flat as instructed and rung the doorbell.
The door had unclicked with a buzz and she had waited anxiously for the lift to take her up to the fourth floor.
As the doors slid open she heard a gurgle of laughter as a chubby, rosy-cheeked toddler had tottered towards her in denim dungarees.
Noah had scooped him up and he had shrieked in delight as he’d tickled him under his neck.
From the moment she had met him, Helena adored Raffy.
Over the last four years she had watched him grow into a confident, inquisitive little boy.
She had been there for the potty training, the first day at nursery, the first day at school; the grazed knees, the first missing tooth, a thousand bedtime stories and bathtimes; cuddles and night-wakings, the laughter, the tantrums and the tears.
She couldn’t imagine her life without him, or without Noah.
As for Noah, he was the most passionate man Helena had ever met.
He was incredible in bed: he knew exactly what she wanted without her ever having to say a word.
She knew that their sex life was much better than most and that the frequency with which Noah initiated sex was much greater than average.
Luckily, he was almost impossible to resist. He was prone to flamboyant gestures, once filling her flat with red roses.
He was extremely unpredictable, in actions but also in temperament, which she found a little unnerving yet thrilling.
Helena noticed the admiring looks she got from other women when she was out with him, she could tell they were impressed with how good-looking he was.
They had been living together for six months when Noah suggested that they move to a sleepy village in the commuter belt.
Life was quieter now, slower in pace and full of small, simple pleasures like attempting to garden, a skill she was determined to master, cooking, keeping the house in order, and spending time with Raffy while Noah was in the office.
She had left the world of work behind, and, although she missed it, she could see how good it was for Raffy to have her around.
The beep of the washing machine signalling the end of its cycle pulled her back to the present. She glanced at the clock – she had just enough time to put on another load. She opened the door to a soaking wet mass of candyfloss pink.
‘Bugger!’ She swore to herself, unloading the damp clothes into the basket and finding the culprit – one of Raffy’s red football socks had somehow got into the wash.
All of Noah’s white shirts were in there.
She dreaded to think what his reaction would be when he realised.
She thought about ordering some new ones so he’d never have to find out, but she knew he would spot the expense straight away on the joint account.
It was no good, she would have to come clean later.
Chiding herself for being so careless, she carried the basket outside to hang the laundry on the line before heading out the door to do pick up.