Will You Remember Me? by Amanda Prowse

window.
    ‘I feel guilty going for a run and leaving you cleaning.’
    ‘Go!’ she shouted. ‘I’m fine, honestly. Go get some fresh air.’
    ‘Sure you don’t mind?’ Martin asked as he reached for his trainers from the cupboard under the stairs. He straightened up and kissed her hard on the mouth. ‘See you in a bit.’
    She turned her back and poured disinfectant on her cloth, which she then wiped over the bin.
    ‘Poppy?’
    ‘Yep?’ She looked over her shoulder.
    He spoke from the front door. ‘You sure there’s nothing on your mind? It’s not like you, tossing and turning all night. Was it your back again?’
    Poppy dug deep and produced her brightest smile. ‘No! I’m fine. Now go running while you have the chance. No one likes a fat soldier, Mart!’ She hurled the tea towel in his direction.
    He ducked and laughed as he closed the door behind him.
    After breakfast, as soon as Martin and Max left to walk Peg to school, Poppy sank down onto the sofa and closed her eyes. She felt tired, very tired. Smiling and laughing her way through the days was proving harder than she thought. She looked at the photo propped against the wall, of her and Martin on their wedding day. It showed them in their best outfits, sipping Guinness through a straw from a shared pint glass. They looked happy, making up for what they lacked in white lace and flowers with a deep, devoted commitment.
    Her nan had told her it was the difference between wanting a wedding or a marriage, which had foxed Poppy at the time: what was the difference? Now, all these years later, Poppy knew exactly what she meant. Their marriage was built on an unshakeable foundation of love and dedication. Both were secure in the knowledge that they would be there for each other no matter what, through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health… And in that second, Poppy knew that she had to tell her husband. She held her shaking hands inside each other and practised what she might say.
    She would tell him the moment he got back from the school run. There was no easy way to do it, but she knew she had to dig deep, find her courage and give him the facts as she saw them. Those facts being that this was a challenge, but that she would win. She was determined. Gathering the paper from the hall floor, she opened it and lifted the small print to her face.
    Emily Grace Manson, called by the angels at six weeks. Baby sister in heaven of Joe and Billy. Private family ceremony. Know, Emily, that for the brief time we had you, you were loved.
    ‘Ah, bless her heart.’ Poppy sighed. She picked up the pad and tore two strips of paper from the bottom sheet. On the first she wrote:
    Your first word, Peg, was ‘Mumma’! I was very happy that you picked me to say first, and you’ve been saying it ever since! I hear your little voice in my head when I am not with you and it makes me very happy. Xx
    On the other she put:
    The day we brought you home from the hospital, Maxy, was a real adventure. Peg had decorated the lounge with strips of coloured paper and balloons! We had only ever called you Max, but as we put you in her little arms so she could hold you, she kissed you and said, ‘Welcome home, Maxy!’ and that was it, it stuck! Xx
    Poppy folded the two strips and placed them in her pocket.
    Martin came home singing, he was in a great mood. His earlier run had done him good.
    Max sat on the rug and loaded his digger up with Lego bricks before dumping them into a box using the scoop. This task would keep him busy for an age.
    ‘Do you need a lift into Salisbury today? I could drop you on the way to work.’
    ‘No, I’ll jump on the bus.’ She smiled. She had told him she was going for a manicure and a spot of shopping. Max was off to toddler group and the mum of one of his friends was going to hang on to him until she got back or Martin finished. Poppy wasn’t really sure how long it would all take.
    ‘Why don’t we have a coffee and a catch-up