A cool breeze embraced my shins as Bradley Walsh's hysterical laughter filled our empty home. With Robert still at work, I would make the most of the television before his return. He hated my shows, said they were a complete waste of time. I think he just hated the fact I would shout the answers at the screen, slamming my fists on the arm of the chair if I was wrong. He much preferred to watch television in peace. 

Our dog, Rover, slept with his head rest upon my feet. He covered his face with one paw. It didn't look the most comfortable of positions, yet his slight satisfied snore had be questioning. It was a picture perfect spring evening.

"We'll find out after the break,"

"Come on boy," I eased myself from the comfort of the armchair, joints groaning in protest. Advert breaks were the perfect time to let Rover into the garden to relieve himself.

I'd almost missed the phone call. Our kettle really is quite deafening when flicked on. Robert is always telling me we've no need for a home phone, that only spam callers would ring.

I know he's right, but I can't part ways with it. Stuck in the past, I suppose you could say. Besides, I quite like the satisfaction of slamming the phone onto the receiver. Mobiles don't give that same thrill.

I'd answered in the same chirpy voice I always use on the phone. Mrs Collins speaking, may I ask who's calling?

Her voice was soft, barely audible over the Febreeze advert. I'd had to ask her to repeat herself, explaining my slight loss of hearing.

"It's me mum. It's Naomi,"

I'd almost dropped the phone onto the floor, my throat closing up. It couldn't be. It was impossible. There was just no way.

Silence stretched between us for a moment or two. It's rare I'm speechless, let me tell you, but those words knocked the wind from me.

"Mum? Are you there?"

Her voice seemed quieter, unsure of herself. I spluttered, the words lost in the air.

"Who is this? Why are you doing this?"

I could hear her breathing down the line, a swallow and a sniff. Whoever she was, there was no way she was Naomi. I just knew it.

"I'm your daughter. I just want to come home."

I could hear the false tears in her voice. She was a talented actress, let me tell you; but not quite good enough.

My grip around the phone tightened, heartbeat quickening. I wanted to scream at her. To shout obscenities I'd never otherwise use. But I didn't. I stayed calm, kept my composure. I'm a lady and far too tired to give a stranger the satisfaction of seeing the hurt they'd inflicted.

So instead, I simply told her.

"I don't know who you are, but you're sick and twisted, ringing a grieving mother like this. I don't know how you found our number, but if you call again, I'll call the police!"

It was a struggle to place the phone on the receiving, my hands shaking as much as they were. I know she heard the commotion of it.

I'd almost fallen into our armchair, her words, her voice ringing through my mind. It was a cruel prank. It couldn't be true. I just knew it.

---------

"Why did you think she wasn't Naomi? Did you not think there could be a slight chance?"

I glare at the interruption. The first officer stares unblinking, waiting for my answer. I can almost hear his mind whirring, searching for the answer, reaching his own conclusions.

"I er... I... A mother just knows her child. She wasn't Naomi."

He looks unconvinced as he pushes himself off his chair. His pacing makes my stomach knot. With one hand, pushing back his dark hair, he turns.

"Why wouldn't you contact the police? Whether or not you thought it was a prank, it's something you ought to have done given the circumstances," he folds his arms and stops moving, "help me make sense of it all Mrs Collins"

His colleague, who had been sitting silently in front of me, removes the cap from the water and slides it forward. I take it graciously, the cool drink a saviour to my drying throat.

"I didn't want to waste police time."

He shakes his head before gesturing that I continue my story. I almost want to throw my chair back and run from the room. To leave behind judgemental eyes and the ever-growing claustrophobia.

"After I'd calmed myself, I took Rover for a walk around the local field. The fresh air helps me think see, and I needed to do just that,"

----------

The field had been almost deserted; only a few stragglers here and there with their coats pulled tightly against their bodies, umbrellas blowing this way and that. I hate mid April downpours.

Rover had leapt and bounded from puddle to puddle, his white fur suddenly brown. The buffoon loved the dirt - he loathed bath time though and so I dreaded the ever looming chaos that would ensue.

A young couple across the field, huddled on a bench, caught my eye. The man wore no coat and held a black umbrella above their heads. It struck me as odd until the fabric arm fluttered in the wind beneath their bodies. It was something Robert would have done, once upon a time.

They barely looked up as Rover raced towards them, desperate for attention. I swallowed against the lump that formed as I trudged on. I'd do anything to be lost in a world away from reality with Robert. To sit in the rain and talk for hours on end about anything and everything, never a moment of awkward silence that had filled our home for over a decade.

I gave a quick whistle mere feet from the pair. Rover turned his heads, ears raised before hurtling his way back. With his lead firmly reattached, we began the short walk home, the couple fading into the distance, still huddled and undisturbed.

The warmth of our modest two bed house was welcoming. Rover sped past my legs headed towards his bed beneath our stairs, the place he often escaped to following a walk. The daft thing would hide his snout beneath his paw as though I couldn't see him, a feeble attempt at avoiding bath time. He never had such luck.

I'd decided not to change into warm, dry clothes until after Rover was clean - it would have been pointless. I'd only wind up soaked once more as he tried continuously to jump from the water.

One clean dog and freshly washed pyjamas later, I settled back in front of the television. Dinner was on, the smell filling our home, ready for Robert's return.

The clock hands were moving too fast, each second bringing him closer to home. I'd decided not to tell him about the phone call, the woman pretending to be our Naomi. I knew the outrage it would cause. We both knew deep down she was never coming home.

Eight o'clock soon rolled round and the familiar sound of Robert's keys in the door woke me from a slumber I'd fallen into. Rover greeted him first, tail whipping the furniture as he bounced around the living room.

"Alright boy, settle down. That's a good boy,"

Robert breathed deeply, a smile etched on his face, highlighting the caverns of time on his cheeks. I loved how he'd aged, our memories together on a map across his flesh. The happy ones, and the sad. A tale we shared that few knew. He was just as handsome as the 17-year-old boy I'd met ice skating with friends all those winters ago.

"Something smells amazing,"

My heart leapt, and I shuffled straighter.

"It's sausage casserole, your favourite."

He leant forward, kissing my cheek with the same soft touch he always had. I let the hope envelop me. I could feel my eyes pleading for him to stay, to watch television with me, do a puzzle. Do anything as long as we did it together.

"I'm gonna head upstairs. Let me know when dinners ready,"

My stomach dropped as I watched him retreat to the solitude of our room, though I had my suspicions he spent much of his time in Naomi's room. I had left it untouched since we lost her. I wasn't allowed to do more than dust and hoover. Everything had to remain just as it was.

It was the same every night. Had become a routine I hated, loneliness filling my core. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, something or someone always held his attention more than I did. His work, our daughter, when she was here. It was like he couldn't stomach the sight of me, didn't love me anymore.

I'd sacrificed everything for his attention, to feel wanted. And all I'd done was push him further away until I barely saw the couple we had once been.

We'd eaten in silence, Rover waiting patiently at Robert's feet for scraps Robert would sneak beneath the table. Gone were the murmurs of delight as he chewed mouthful after mouthful like he used to. Even the dishes when he cleared the table and washed up made little noise as he kept his back to me.

After everything I'd done, this was the life I was left with. I never wanted this.