Pearl & Frank
As she ironed the last of the bedding sheets, Pearl looked at the solo card placed above the fireplace. ‘50 years,’ she mused as steam from the crisp fabric rose in the air and misted her glasses. When she’d walked down that aisle at 19 years old, she could never have imagined that she and Frank would reach their golden wedding anniversary.
As she forced the foam pillows into their Egyptian-cotton cases, she wished they had feathered ones, but Frank didn’t like feathers, so foam it had always been. Then it was down to the kitchen to start Frank’s dinner.
As it was a Thursday, they would have steak and mashed potatoes. No butter or sauce, Frank didn’t approve. He said it blocked arteries. It did make the food rather dry, but Pearl assumed he may be right as they were now 69 and 71 and neither had any illnesses, apart from Frank’s sleepwalking and snoring, which her doctor said wasn’t technically an illness, more of a condition. If it wasn’t for her earplugs, she doubted she’d ever get any rest.
The first time the sleepwalking had happened wasn’t long after they were wed. Turning on the bedroom light, she’d watched in curious fascination as
Frank wandered into the garden. She’d found him sat at their little table, his eyes still glazed over, and had felt a little scared. After all, she’d been barely 20 years old and many miles from her relatives back in Ireland when she’d first arrived in Suffolk with Frank.
Back in the 50s, if you found yourself pregnant before you were married, you were shunted up the aisle then moved away so that no-one noticed there was a discrepancy between the birth of your first child and the date you married.
Pearl touched her stomach, remembering the day she’d first felt their child kick inside her.
It was still so vivid that even now, all these years later, she could feel it as if it were yesterday. She hadn’t wanted to hide away but both her and Frank’s parents had agreed it was for the best. Then, after the wedding, Frank had delivered the news that they weren’t keeping the baby and that an adoption agency would be taking the child as soon as it was born. She’d screamed at him, but he’d ignored her pleas. ‘Too much mess and noise, children,’ is all he’d said, as if talking about a bin that needed putting out. On the day she gave birth, she was sure that Frank would see this was wrong and change his mind, but no. As soon as she’d pushed out her beautiful baby girl, the doctor took her to the adoption home.
For hours, she’d wailed like an injured animal, desperate to be rescued or released from her pain. But nobody came. The next morning, Frank arrived,
drove her home and expected his dinner to be made. After a few weeks, she realised nothing was going to change. With no help in sight and no-one to turn to, despite the longing she felt for her missing child, she had no choice but to muddle on with life.
Weeks turned into months, then months into years – 50 to be precise as the card above the fireplace reminded her.
She laid the table in anticipation of Frank’s return from his walk which led him along the sea. She always thought this a strange choice for a man who couldn’t swim, but then nothing Frank ever did made much sense to her.
Hours later, when he’d indicated it was time to go to bed, she’d finally plucked up the courage to pull out the tickets she’d been hiding behind her crossword puzzle. Frank eyed them widely. ‘And what are those?’ he said.
‘I won them in my magazine,’ Pearl said with a smile.
‘You know I don’t approve of any wife of mine gambling,’ he said, taking them.
‘I wasn’t gambling, it was a cookery competition. I entered your mother’s apple pie recipe and it won best traditional dish,’ she said, hoping that the words ‘mother’ and ‘tradition’ would sit well with him.
‘A holiday in Spain?’ he said, mouthing the words as if it was a trip to the moon. ‘We have everything we need right here, we’ve no need to go abroad.’
‘But it’s a villa, so it’ll be like being home, only we’ll be in the sun.’
Frank paused and nodded before heading up to bed.
Two weeks later, after a short flight, they were being shown around their remote villa on the private side of the resort. The stunning pool it came with, which was surrounded by olive trees, almost took Pearl’s breath away. It was like paradise.
Once Frank had seen that the villa had its own kitchen he’d dismissed any notion that they’d be ordering food to their villa, and sent Pearl to the shops in search of his usual fayre to cook.
Later that night, after they’d finished eating, Frank made his way up to the bedroom and was soon fast asleep. For once, Pearl didn’t follow.
She poured herself a glass of the complimentary wine that had been in the fridge and waited. Hours passed. As tired as she was she kept herself awake by pacing the room. All the doors to the patio were open. She knew it wouldn’t be much longer.
At the stroke of 3am Frank’s heavy footsteps came down the villa’s staircase, she watched as he walked past her and sleepwalked his way through the open doors, towards the table and chairs. Suddenly, with the sound of a splash, he disappeared from view.
‘Pearl! Pearl!’came the cry from the pool. That had woken him up alright. But Pearl wasn’t moving.
She watched his flailing arms, his wild eyes and panicked face all lit up by the pool lights, but still she didn’t move. Instead, she poured herself another glass of wine and toasted him with a quiet ‘cheers,’ as he sank beneath the water and it all went quiet.
Then she went up to bed and slept the best she had in five decades.
In the morning, she called reception using all the tears she’d been saving up since the day her child had been ripped from her arms. With Frank’s history of sleepwalking registered at the doctors, who also knew she wore earplugs for his snoring which would have prevented her from hearing his drowning cries, it was clearly just a tragic accident.
Weeks later, back at home, she watched the estate agent put the ‘for sale’ sign up and smiled with the knowledge that it was finally over.
The moment the adoption agency had confirmed that Katie, as she was now known, wanted to meet her, she’d been planning Frank’s demise. It had taken 300 holiday competitions and five years to make it happen, but luck eventually landed on her side. She was finally free to be with her baby.
‘For hours, she’d wailed like an injured animal, desperate to be rescued. But nobody came’
Bestseller by Melanie Blake (Harpercollins, £7.99) is out on 18 august in paperback