Chapter 31
As predicted, the community hall is as cold on the inside as the world is outside.
Chipped cream walls and a faded carpet in the entrance hallway lead to a set of wooden double doors with glass panels.
As I walk towards them, I hear a hubbub of commotion on the other side.
It sounds like a lot of people are in there.
Far more than I assumed also carry the pain that’s underpinned my life for so long now.
When a ripple of laughter rings out, I freeze. My abrupt stop catches a person behind me off guard. They collide into the back of my rigid body, saying ‘Shit!’ as they do.
‘I am so sorry!’ the dark-haired woman cries, grabbing the top of my shoulder to prevent me from toppling over. ‘Are you okay?’
I turn around to reply but find that, as when faced with my laptop, I have lost my words.
The woman tilts her head. ‘First time here?’
Failed by language yet again, I nod.
She gives my elbow a kind squeeze. ‘Come on, we can walk in together.’
On shaking legs, I follow the stranger through the doors.
A large room with a wooden floor and a stage at one end greets me.
A handmade backdrop is pinned to the wall behind the stage, bearing a night-time scene I assume will be used for an upcoming nativity performance.
The air is filled with the scent of cheap floor polish and coffee.
A refreshments table stands in the corner of the room, providing an array of biscuits that would impress anyone’s sweet tooth.
In the centre of the room lies a circle of roughly thirty plastic chairs.
The volume in the hallway was an accurate indicator of how many attendees there are, but I’m still surprised by the number.
Men and women of all ages have congregated on this chilly Thursday night.
Couples, people standing alone, groups in tight-knit huddles.
Some are laughing. Some are drinking from plastic cups.
Some look so normal that I want to ask how they maintain such an excellent facade when they have experienced the thing that has brought us all here.
‘Welcome to Families United,’ the dark-haired woman says. ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of the others.’
She leads me to a group of people standing near the refreshments table, homing in on a pale, pretty redhead.
‘Annalise, hi,’ the woman says, hugging her friend before gesturing to me. ‘I met this lovely lady outside. Well, I say met, but I actually walked straight into her.’
‘Typical,’ Annalise says, not unkindly. ‘I’d say Lola’s accident prone, but I don’t think that does her justice.’
The brunette I now know to be called Lola laughs. ‘I usually go with “walking disaster”. I broke my ankle last year just walking across my kitchen, can you believe it? Anyway, enough of my silliness. Here I am, introducing you without even knowing your name.’
As the two women look at me, I panic. Being here suddenly feels too real, too wrong, too… personal. I want more than anything to distance myself from my need to attend this meeting. To be someone, anyone, but myself.
‘It’s Beth,’ I say, doing all I can not to flinch as I use my sister’s name as my own.
‘Lovely to meet you, Beth,’ Annalise says, shaking my hand. ‘I’m Annalise, and this is my husband, Simon.’
My blood freezes as a tall, trim man with sandy hair turns around. ‘Did somebody say my name or am I daydreaming I’m popular again?’
‘Behave,’ Annalise giggles, nudging him. ‘Meet Beth. She’s new.’
‘Welcome,’ Simon says as he shakes my hand. He smiles, and two deep dimples pierce his cheeks. ‘Don’t be nervous. Everyone here is friendly enough.’
‘Friendly enough? Simon, we’re more than that,’ Lola protests. ‘We’re delightful!’
As the group laughs, I can’t take my eyes off Simon. Could this be who Alexa is having an affair with? With those arms and that smile, I wouldn’t be surprised if so.
‘Are you here alone?’ Annalise asks, looking over my shoulder.
‘My… my husband couldn’t make it.’
Sympathy floods Annalise, but she doesn’t look surprised. ‘Well, don’t worry about that. Some people are ready to join meetings before others. I came alone for three months before Simon felt able to attend too.’
‘Then when I realised there were biscuits, I couldn’t keep away,’ Simon adds. Annalise suppresses an eye roll, but the way her face lights up when she looks at him tells me he could make terrible jokes forever and she would still adore him.
‘My partner doesn’t come either,’ Lola says. ‘She tells me it’s good we have separate outlets for our grief. Hers is knitting, of all things.’
‘My husband knits, too,’ I say, but the reminder of Kamal punches me in the chest. I picture him at home, eating dinner alone, while I’m here, lying yet again.
Annalise reaches for my hand. ‘Why don’t you sit between me and Lola tonight? We can help you settle in.’
‘Is that okay?’ I ask, surprised at the emotion in my voice.
‘Beth, it’s more than okay! Come on, we’ll find a seat before everyone rushes to nab a good spot.’
Throwing her arm over my shoulder, Annalise steers me towards the circle of chairs. As we leave Simon, I eye him suspiciously. If he’s who Alexa was meeting, then I almost don’t want to know. Barely five minutes into meeting Annalise, I am already furious at the idea of him cheating on her.
But as I watch Simon interact with the people around him, it’s more than clear how Alexa could be drawn to him.
Simon emits a warmth that every person in the room seems to gravitate towards.
With Alexa alone all day and Otis so distant, it’s not hard to imagine her wanting to be around someone with such an illuminating presence.
When I take a seat beside Annalise, she squeezes my hand, and I pray for her sake that Simon is not the person I’m looking for.
‘Is everybody ready?’ the grey-haired woman leading the meeting calls out.
Her question prompts a flurry of activity throughout the room as everyone rushes to find a seat, then the meeting begins.
It’s not long before I realise it will be harder to uncover the identity of ‘S’ than I thought.
‘There are three newcomers tonight,’ the leader begins the meeting by saying.
‘Let’s start by going around the circle and introducing ourselves.
Say your name, your profession and a fun fact about yourself.
’ She goes on to tell everyone that her name is Sharon Hollinger, she’s a psychologist, and she enjoys running marathons.
I learn that as well as Sharon and Simon, two other people attending tonight’s Families United meeting have a name beginning with ‘S’.
That’s four people Alexa could have been meeting on Fridays.
Four people I need to speak to before the night is over, but not before I’ve sat through the session and introduced myself.
‘I’m Beth. I’m a teacher, and I enjoy open-water swimming,’ I say, and with those words I fully adopt my sister’s identity.
Despite every intention I had before arriving, I find myself being drawn into the meeting. Sharon speaks first, sharing that earlier this week was the fifteen-year anniversary of her son Timothy’s stillbirth.
‘The strange thing about grief is that people expect it to fade,’ she says, ‘but I feel the pain of losing Timothy as if it happened this morning. It’s fresh.
I think it always will be. So no, I don’t think grief goes anywhere.
I think you just learn to live around it.
For me, this week was a reminder of that. ’
From there, everyone gets the opportunity to speak, but only if they wish to.
I find myself listening with a keenness I haven’t felt in a long time.
At one point, I’m on the verge of tears when a woman called Rhoda describes crying in the supermarket because she accidentally walked down the baby aisle.
I feel the memory so painfully, so personally, because I have been there myself.
Confronted by the gummy, grinning photos on the packaging of nappies and breaking because all that I thought would be mine is not.
Then, when Rhoda finishes, Annalise raises her hand.
‘This is hard to say out loud, but saying it helps make it real. Simon and I, we’ve… well, we’ve decided to try again.’ Annalise takes Simon’s hand, grasping it tightly.
I try to ignore the fact that Simon doesn’t grip hers back with quite the same ferocity.
‘It’s been a long discussion, with a few arguments along the way, as I’m sure you can imagine.
’ A few people chuckle knowingly. ‘But we’re at a point where we’re ready to give becoming pregnant another go.
For the last few weeks, we’ve been meeting with another IVF consultant.
Truthfully, I’m terrified, but we’re not done with the dream of being parents yet.
Besides, you never know if you never try, right? ’
While Annalise speaks, I watch Simon. His eyes are on his wife and those dimples dent his cheeks, but I feel like I’m watching a man whose mind isn’t really in this moment with us. Somewhere inside me, a warning bell rings.
‘Thank you for sharing your news, Annalise. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say we are wishing you and Simon all the best with your journey,’ Sharon says, then someone on the other side of the circle raises their hand and our attention goes to them.
My focus ping-pongs around the room for the next twenty minutes until there’s a gap in the conversation. I only realise I have raised my hand to speak when everyone’s gaze lands on me.
‘Beth, welcome,’ Sharon says. ‘Whenever you’re ready, say what is on your mind.’
Every sense I have prickles as I take in the faces of the strangers staring at me with gentle encouragement. People young and old, rich and poor, from all kinds of backgrounds and with differing beliefs, all here because of one uniting thing: grief.
‘My husband doesn’t know I’m here tonight,’ I begin.
‘Ironic, really, because he was the one who told me about these meetings. I didn’t mean to lie to him about coming.
I didn’t mean to tell any of the lies I’ve told recently, but…
well, it’s hard to tell him the truth. I’m scared that if I start, then I’ll have to say how badly this hurts. ’
Looking around the room, I see my words have struck a chord.
‘Even now, after everything that’s happened, I almost can’t believe I’m here,’ I continue.
‘I mean, I spent my twenties terrified I’d fall pregnant and doing everything I could to stop that from happening, then I met my husband and all I wanted was to make a family with him.
But no matter how hard we try or how close we get, it’s not happening for us. ’
Tears catch at the back of my throat. I go to sniff them away but then I stop myself. If there’s one place I don’t need to hide my emotions, it’s here.
‘My husband and I were happy, once upon a time,’ I say.
‘Sometimes I think those days are gone. It’s hard not to wonder if I’ve changed too much to be the person he fell in love with.
I keep trying to find a way back to him, back to us, but sometimes I feel so lost it’s like there’s no way back at all. ’
There’s so much more I could say, like how I cry in the shower because it’s the only place I can do so in peace.
Like how I get angry when I see a pregnancy announcement, even though I know I should be happy for other people.
Like how every day I wake up and wonder, What if motherhood never happens for me?
and don’t know how to answer that question.
But I can’t say any of that. If I start admitting the darkest truths of this experience, I’m scared I’ll never stop.
When I dip my head to indicate I have finished, Annalise takes my hand in hers. The comforting gesture brings tears to my eyes.
Sharon responds to what I said, but I’m too busy holding myself together to take it in. The conversation moves on, then before I know it, the session comes to an end.
I blink, looking around the once again bustling room. ‘Is that it?’
‘Time flies here, doesn’t it?’ Annalise replies. ‘Don’t worry if it’s a bit disorienting. Your first session is always a bit of a shock. If you’re anything like me, this is the first place you’ll have heard people talk about loss so openly.’
I nod because that’s exactly how I feel.
‘Come on, let’s get a biscuit. You look like you could do with the sugar,’ Annalise says, rising to her feet.
‘Snack time, the best part of the night,’ Simon cheers, rubbing his hands together and setting off towards the refreshments table.
‘Honestly, he’s such a child.’ Annalise giggles and I try to join in, but her affection for her husband is something I can’t smile about. We make a move to follow Simon, but an older woman intercepts us.
‘Annalise, darling, how wonderful to see you,’ she says, air kissing Annalise’s cheeks before pulling her close and lowering her voice. ‘Have you seen what’s happening in the hallway?’
Annalise looks over the woman’s shoulder to the double doors. I follow her gaze. The back of Sharon’s head is visible through the glass, as is the flash of a neon jacket.
‘Is that the police?’ Annalise asks, taking the words out of my mouth.
‘It is. I wonder if they’re here to talk about Alexa.’
Annalise’s eyebrows dip. ‘Is she okay?’
‘Haven’t you heard? Apparently, she’s missing.’
As Annalise gasps, the double doors to the hall open. A solemn Sharon leads five uniformed officers into the room alongside an equally sombre DS Mullins. Gripped by panic, I make my body small and duck behind Annalise.
‘What’s going on?’ Simon asks, approaching our huddle carrying more biscuits than one person should possibly consume in one sitting.
‘It’s Alexa,’ Annalise whispers. ‘She’s missing.’
Annalise is too focused on the police to look at her husband, but my eyes are glued to him. That’s why I’m on hand to see the colour drain from Simon’s face at the mention of Alexa’s disappearance.