‘Is that what you think Louisa was saying?’
‘Yes.’ I put the glass down. ‘No. I don’t know. I just …’ Without the glass, I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I picked up one of her tan cushions and started winding the tassels around my finger. ‘I’m not completely irrational. I do understand in these situations children complicate things, but when I asked Louisa to explain herself, she started rambling about how it would be worse if Elodie had children because they’d miss her so much. And I flew off the handle.’ I winced, remembering the look on the faces of those poor Bakewell-pushing, muffin-making middle-aged women. Thin, pointy Louisa was so shocked by my outburst, she looked like she’d accidentally swallowed a carb. ‘I told them Elodie may not be a mother but she’s a sister and a daughter and a cousin and a friend. I yelled that just because there weren’t any sticky-fingered snotty-nosed brats wailing at the door for her, there was still an entire family of people who were falling apart missing her.’ I put my head in my hands, mortified that I’d caused a scene like the ones in Mum’s soap operas. ‘They’re my mother’s friends. I’ve embarrassed her.’
‘Do you think your mother would understand given the circumstances?’
‘No. I don’t. I think as soon as she finds out, she’ll be livid, and it really will be my fault when her blood pressure goes haywire and she blacks out again. She’s always been concerned about how things look; it’s more important to her than how things actually are.’ I’d abandoned the cushion in favour of spinning my wedding band around my finger. ‘Mum and Ethan are the same that way.’
‘Did you tell Ethan about the interaction you had with your mother’s friends?’
I nodded. ‘He agreed with them, said of course it would be far worse if Elodie had children. Children rely on their mother. And I can understand what he’s saying but I don’t agree. If they’re right, if he’s right, it means you can be the perfect daughter or sister or cousin or wife, you can own a beautiful house, a great car, marry a fantastic man, host wonderful parties and buy only eco-friendly, organic, pressed foods which don’t hurt the turtles or beavers or whatever, you can do all that, but if you die or disappear without ever having children, your life doesn’t mean as much as the woman who does have children.’ I ran out of breath. Harriett made more notes. ‘There’s just a lot of pressure.’
She looked up. ‘Pressure?’
‘To decide. To have a baby. It’s not fair our sexual organs come with an expiration date while men can carry on reproducing until they’re in their seventies. And if you’re a woman and you decide you don’t want a baby, you’re selfish or defective, and people sit there and insist you’ll “change your mind”. Well, what if you don’t change your mind? Are you a bad person?’
She didn’t answer my question. She never answers them. She drops questions of her own like breadcrumbs and I pick up each one until I arrive at the gingerbread house where the walls are made of revelations. ‘Do you want children, Ada?’
You probably saw that question coming. I didn’t. It took me a moment to reply. ‘I don’t know. But if I don’t have any, Mum and Dad won’t ever have grandchildren, will they? And I’ll have to live with that guilt. If Elodie isn’t ever found, it’s all down to me.’
‘Do you think guilt is a good reason to have a baby?’
‘No, probably not, but I don’t know many good reasons to have one. I don’t want one now just in case I regret it after my eggs have dried up and it’s too late. I don’t want one just so someone’s obligated to visit me in the care home when I have dementia. I don’t want one just because all my friends are having them.’
For the first time, I wondered if Harriett had children. I’ve looked in through her front-room window before and her house is immaculate. If she does have children, they’re probably older. University age maybe.
‘And besides worrying about whether people think your life has meaning after you’re gone, are there any reasons you would have a child?’ she asked.
And I knew what I was about to say weren’t the right answers, but they were truthful. ‘To save my marriage. To make my parents happy.’
‘Is your marriage in turmoil?’
‘I wouldn’t know. Ethan and I never talk about our marriage. He works a lot. I’m lonely most of the time, even before Elodie’s disappearance. If I try to tell him how lonely I am, he acts as though I’m being dramatic, he tells me we spend plenty of time together, that we live together for god’s sake, that I’m just being needy.’ Admitting I am lonely out loud made me feel like crying.
‘Does Ethan want children?’
I don’t know how we ended up talking about me and Ethan when I was there to talk about you, but not answering her questions felt petulant, so I said, ‘Yes. The last conversation we had about it, I tried to tell him I wasn’t sure I wanted any, but he wouldn’t let me finish, he just insisted I did want them and even if I didn’t, once the baby was here I’d love it, and that was that.’
‘It’s okay if you don’t want children, Ada. Motherhood isn’t a preference for everyone.’
‘I wish Ethan and I could just have it out, but we never fight. He refuses to engage in any sort of conflict. At the first sniff of an argument, he removes himself from the situation. He suddenly has a lot of work on and spends a few days in the city before swooping back home with a mini-break booked, and if I try to start the conversation over, he tells me I’m ungrateful, that so many women would kill to have their husbands book a break away and I’m ruining it. Then for days, he gives me the silent treatment and the loneliness is worse. So, I’ve learned not to say anything.’
I know she’s supposed to remain neutral, but I could sense she felt sorry for me. I’m not used to that. I pour blood, sweat and tears into the glittering production of my marriage. This is the first time I’ve peeled back the curtain and revealed the sad, tragic truth behind the scenes. I’ve never been this honest, especially not with you, not with anyone.
Harriett leaned forward. ‘Putting aside the situation with your sister for just a moment, are you happy?’
‘No.’ I said it without thinking, but as soon as I did, I knew it was true. ‘I don’t think I am.’
‘And what do you think would make you happy?’
I pulled a face. That isn’t a question you get asked every day, but maybe it should be. ‘I’ve never thought about it before,’ I said honestly. I assumed ‘finding my sister alive and well’ was the obvious answer she wasn’t looking for. ‘I’d like to work again. Interior design or event planning, but Ethan likes me home. He said he never wanted a wife who works as much as him. But sometimes it’s like I’m drifting pointlessly from one day to the next, and even though I’m not sure I want my day to be filled with nappies and Peppa Pig, I’d like something that’s all mine.’