“She is pretty. Isn’t she?” Beatrice said. “Rebecca was more normal looking.”
Jean stroked her throat and grimaced. “She’s different from Rebecca in every way.”
Beatrice bobbed her head through the doors. “I can lend you some money if you want.”
“I wasn’t fishing for a handout.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re my best friend.”
Jean caught a glance of people carrying branded store bags and sipping on to-go coffees. It had been months since she’d brought herself something new. Moments later, Beatrice emerged from the changing room and handed the young female assistant the dress.
“Are you taking this, madam,” the assistant said.
“Yes, please. I’ll have the shoes I tried on as well, and the little handbag.” She looked at Jean who was smiling at her. “What? You can’t take it to the grave. Can you?”
As though realising what she’d said, Beatrice stared down at her feet.
“It’s okay,” Jean said.
“I’m so sorry, Jean.”
“It’s fine. Eddie’s gone. We have to move on.”
Beatrice smiled understandingly and sat beside Jean. “Gone but never forgotten. At least you have the boys.”
“Emma has them.”
“You’re their grandmother. You have rights.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Come on. Be positive. Those boys love you, and so do I. That’s why I’m treating you to the best coffee in Leeds. I’ll even throw in a Danish.”
“I need to go,” Jean said.
“No arguments, please. This is an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Okay.”
Beatrice rose from the seat. She and Jean went to the counter to pay for Beatrice’s items and then they left.
“So what’s really wrong?” Beatrice asked as she and Jean sat at a table in a coffee shop by the train station.
“I’m just tired. That’s all.”
“Are you sure?”
Jean stirred her cappuccino. “Apart from the fact that I’ve just buried my son.”
Beatrice drew her mouth into a straight line and bit her lip.
“I know it must be tough for you. I’ve never had children, but I can empathise.”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t you dare apologise,” Beatrice said. “I’m sure it’s going to take time.”
“It’s not just the grief,” Jean admitted.
“How do you mean?”
Jean wasn’t sure she should mention her feelings about Emma, knowing not everyone shared them.
“It’s Emma. Something not right about her.”
“In what way?”
“I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Give me an example,” encouraged Beatrice.
“I can’t,” Jean said. “I just feel as if she’s playing games.”
Beatrice gave a bark of laughter. “Emma?”
“I know you’d take it like that.”
“I’m sorry. It just sounds—”
“Like paranoia?” Jean asked.
“Like a mother who’s missing her son,” Beatrice corrected.
A familiar sense of sadness crept into Jean’s heart, leaving her with a soreness in the throat and lungs. Tears welled in her eyes and left her unable to speak for a moment. She blamed it on the coffee shop. Dishes clattered, spoons clinking against the side of mugs, and employees called out orders. A pleasant aromatic scent of espresso perfumed the air. Eddie loved coffee. He spent a lot of time and money in coffee shops like this. Even the smell of coffee triggered Jean’s grief.
“Eddie’s death was not Emma’s fault.”
“I know,” Jean said with a gentle nod.
“She’s grieving just as much as you are. Emma must miss Eddie terribly.”
Jean didn’t agree, but she left her doubts about Emma there. Moments later, a tall smartly dressed man approached the table.
“Beatrice,” he greeted as he planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Hi, Mike,” Beatrice said.
So this was Mike, Jean assumed, eyeing her best friend’s new partner.
“Mike, this is Jean,” Beatrice said. “My best friend.”
His eyes crinkled at the corner. “Pleased to meet you, Jean.”
“Likewise,” Jean said.
Jean felt like a gooseberry. Beatrice and Mike had eyes only for each other. On that note, she picked up her handbag.
“I’d better be going. I have a few errands to run.”
“Stay a little longer,” Beatrice said.
“We’ll arrange dinner one evening,” Jean said. “But now I need to go.”
They hugged, and Jean left. As she reached the door, she caught Beatrice and Mike whispering to each other. Excitement fluttered in her belly. How sweet it was for her friend to find love at long last. And Maybe Beatrice was right about Emma. Everyone had the right to grieve in their own way.
Chapter 3
That afternoon, Jean’s sister, Meredith, and her niece, Ava, stopped by for a visit. They sat in the kitchen while Jean made a pot of tea and opened a packet of digestive biscuits. Ava was showing them pictures of her friend’s twenty-first birthday celebration in Spain.
“Her dad bought her a new car for her birthday,” Ava said. “And she got six hundred pounds to spend.”
“Isn’t she lucky?” Meredith said.
“Some people have more money than sense," Jean said. “Have you decided what you want to do for your twenty-first?”
Ava glanced up from her phone. “I am not sure.”
“You must have some idea,” Meredith said.
Jean poured tea into the three, white cups she’d put on the table. “How about we go out to dinner?”
"That’s a great idea, Jean," Meredith said. “Ava’s birthday is next Thursday.”
“Sounds great,” Ava agreed.
Ava’s reaction to her birthday meal idea, made Jean smile for the first time that day. Eddie’s death reminded her of the importance of loved ones, and Jean was fond of Ava.
The front door screeched as it opened. “I’m home,” Derek shouted from the hall.
“Good afternoon all,” he said when he breezed into the kitchen.
“Derek? What are you doing here?” Jean asked.
“Something went wrong with the electrics. The boss sent us all home.”
“Alright for some,” Meredith said.
Jean rose to her feet to get another cup. She poured Derek a cup of tea as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“I think I’ll cook us something to eat,” Jean said.
“Sounds great,” Derek replied.
“We’re going out for a meal for Ava’s birthday,” Meredith said.
“Oh yeah,” Derek replied. “Twenty-one. I can still remember when you were a baby.”
“Thanks, Uncle Derek,” Ava said.
“Your crying could wake all of England,” Derek recalled. “Do you remember, Meredith?”
“I do. She had lungs the size of Leeds!”
“Will you tell these two to stop picking on me, Auntie Jean?”
“Yes, leave her alone. You two always ganging up on Ava.”
Their chuckling was interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. Derek got up to answer it.
“I wonder who that is,” Jean said. “I wasn’t expecting anybody.”
“I’m really looking forward to this dinner,” Ava said. “I think it’s good for us to celebrate something after what happened to Uncle Eddie.”
Meredith rubbed Ava’s hand. “That’s a lovely thing to say.”
“Yes, it is,” Jean said. “And we will have a wonderful time.”
The smile on Jean’s face dropped when Derek reappeared with Emma. “Good evening, all,” Emma said. “Sorry to pop in unexpectedly.”
“It’s no problem,” Derek said. “You’re family.”
Jean smiled slightly. “Hello, Emma.”
“Hi, Jean,” Emm
a said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are you looking after Jean, Derek?”
“I try,” he said.
“I know how hard this has been for you, Jean. And how are you, Meredith?”
“Great, thanks,” she said.
“And Ava? You get bonnier every time I see you.”
Ava smiled shyly. Jean noted that whenever Emma paid anyone a compliment, their faces lit up.
“Would you like a cup of tea, Emma?” Derek asked.
“Yes, that would be great.”
Derek poured Emma some tea from the teapot. Jean sipped her tea as Emma sat at the table, next to her. Emma’s expensive perfume nearly choked her.
“The boys got off to school okay,” Emma said. “It was so sweet watching them. I hope they’ll be okay.”
Jean burned inside as she listened to Emma speak about her grandchildren. But, she kept the fake smile painted on her face.
“They’re so cute,” Meredith said.
“I’ve got a picture of them,” Emma said.
She got her phone out of her bag and showed them the pictures she’d taken that morning.
“This is them at the school gates. How cute are they?” Emma said.
She shoved the phone in Jean’s face so she couldn’t miss it. Jean stared at her grandsons, Jack and William. They were the spitting image of Eddie.
“My little boys,” Jean said. She touched the screen. “They’re a credit to Rebecca.”
Jean saw that everyone was staring at her. She pushed the phone back to Emma.
“And to you, Emma,” Derek said. “They’re a credit to you too.”
Meredith cleared her throat as if to crush the uncomfortable silence. “We’re having a family dinner for Ava’s birthday. She’s going to be twenty-one.”
“Oh that’s nice,” Emma said.
“You’re welcome to come," Meredith said. “I take it you’ll be bringing the boys.”
“Of course,” Emma said. “I want them to spend time with their family. That’s what Eddie would have wanted. And I’d love to come.”
“Great,” Ava said. “It was Auntie Jean’s idea.”
“Was it?” Emma said. “Well, I suppose if you want a family dinner to mark such a big occasion.”
“How do you mean?” Ava said.
“I had a big party for my twenty-first,” Emma said.
“I bet you did,” Derek said.
“I can remember it now,” Emma said. “It was so special. Well, it should be. Shouldn’t it? You’re only twenty-one once.”
There was another bout of silence. Jean’s limbs tingled.
“I could have a party,” Ava said. “You don’t mind do you, Auntie Jean?”
Their eyes moved towards Jean. Jean’s body burned with heat. She couldn’t stand it much longer in that kitchen.
“Whatever,” Jean said.
“I’ll have a party then,” Ava said.
“It’s a lot to organise,” Meredith said.
“I can help,” Emma said.
“Are you sure?” Ava said.
“Of course I’m sure. We’re friends. Aren’t we? And, a family. I’d love to plan your birthday party. It takes the weight off your Auntie Jean. It probably would be a bit too much for her.”
Jean caught the condescending callousness in Emma’s eyes. She stood and knocked the cup of tea over. A gush of semi-warm brown liquid spilt onto the table and onto Emma’s lap.
“Jean,” Derek cried.
“It’s okay,” Emma said.
Ava fetched Emma a dishcloth and Emma wiped her red coat. “I’ll have to have it dry cleaned,” she said.
“Send us the bill,” Derek said.
“I’m sorry,” Jean said. “I’m so sorry.”
Jean rushed out of the kitchen and stood in the back garden. The gentle breeze slapped her skin and cooled down the hot flush she experienced earlier. Leaning against the wall, she pressed her hand against her chest.
Moments later, the back door opened and Emma stepped out into the garden. Jean didn’t look at her.
“Are you okay, Jean?” Emma asked.
Jean wanted to scream at her. “Yes.”
“It’s a bit cooler out here. Don’t worry about the coat. I can get a new one.”
“I’ll pay for the dry cleaning,” Jean said.
“It’s not like you did it on purpose. Is it?”
Jean looked at her. “No.”
“Listen, Jean. Have I done something to offend you?”
“How do you mean?”
“I think you know. There’s tension between us.”
Jean walked away from her and wiped her face. “I’m still grieving for my son.”
“With all due respect, Jean so is everyone else. But you seem to think that you’re the only one that feels anything.”
“Eddie was my son.”
“He was also Derek’s son,” Emma said. “And Meredith nephew and Ava’s uncle. He wasn’t just your son. Derek needs you.”
“What do you know about what Derek needs?”
“I know he needs a wife who understands him.”
“Did he tell you that?”
Emma closed her eyes and sighed. “Have you told him that you’re seeing a therapist?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Don’t you think you should?”
“It’s none of your business,” Jean said, defensively.
“I’m not trying to score points here. I just want you to know that I’m your friend, not your enemy. I want you and Derek to get through this together, not apart.”
Derek came into the garden. “Are you two okay?”
“Yes, we’re fine,” Emma said. “Jean is going to be just fine. Aren’t you?”
Emma left with a hint of a satisfied smirk on her face. Derek edged towards Jean.
“We’re lucky to have her around,” Derek said.
Jean looked through the kitchen window and watched Emma sitting at the table and laughing with Meredith and Ava. Suddenly, their voices got louder and louder as though they were standing in the garden with her. Derek touched her shoulder, and she flinched.
“Everything will be okay,” Derek said.
“Yeah,” Jean said. Not sure if she was convinced.
“Are you sure you’re didn’t misunderstand what Emma was saying?” Beatrice asked Jean later that night over the phone.
Jean had called her while Derek was in the bath and she was in the living room watching television.
“She threatened to tell Derek about the therapy,” Jean said.
“I’m sure she didn’t,” Beatrice said. “But, Derek does have a right to know.”
“He’d only talk me out of it.”
“You don’t know that, Jean.”
“What about Ava’s birthday party? That was my idea, not hers. And she just vetoed it and made it all about her.”
“Jean!”
“Well, it’s true. She’s not even family, not really.”
“She’s related to you by marriage.”
“Don’t remind me,” Jean said.
“I’m sure she’s just trying to help. And maybe the two of you can work together and make Ava’s birthday party extra special.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” Jean muttered, unconvinced.
Beatrice whispered something in the background. “Mike’s in the kitchen making hot chocolate.”
“Right. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your evening.”
“I will, and you stop worrying. It will be fine.”
“Thanks, Beatrice. Night, love.”
“Night, sweetie.”
Jean replaced the receiver and then heard footsteps coming down the staircase. Derek appeared in the living room in his dressing gown.
“That was a nice bath,” he said. “Were you on the phone?”
“It was just Beatrice.”
“Let's have an early night,” he suggested. “It’s been a long day.”
“I
t’s been a long month.”
Derek enfolded Jean in his arms and kissed her gently on the forehead. “But we’ll get through it. We always do.”
Chapter 4
Jean sat on the bed, staring at a glass of water. She hated taking tablets. The doctor had prescribed anti-depressants to make her feel better. Jean wasn't sure the tablets were working. But, she did what the doctor said. As she swallowed two pills, she gulped down the water and pressed her hand against her chest.
Jean still hadn't recovered from the funeral. Somehow, others expected her to move on as though Eddie had never existed. That was something she couldn't do. Not yet. It was like she was waiting to feel happy again. It didn't happen. It never did. Jean feared she’d feel like death forever.
But she had to stay calm. Otherwise, she’d only bring on anxiety. Jean smiled when she thought about things like depression and anxiety. She never remembered her mother talking about stuff like that. In those days, people swallowed whatever bitter pill life threw at them.
But, it was hard for Jean. Her son was dead. She knew she couldn’t grieve forever. By some miracle, her pain would fade. Her therapist advised her to put one foot in front of the other. Time was a great healer. Jean wasn’t sure she believed time would help, but she’d try.
She went into the bathroom and fetched the laundry basket. She then took it back into the bedroom and filled it with dirty laundry. It mounted up when she didn't tend to it. She never liked to leave the housework, but she hadn't the energy to do anything. Everything seemed to take an enormous effort, even doing the laundry. When she came across the black shirt and trousers she had worn to the funeral, a pain struck in her chest. Jean wiped the tears away. Moments like this were regular. Quiet times when she was alone in the house. Alone with her thoughts. She couldn't talk to anyone. As she was aware, Derek had moved on. He was getting on with his life. But Jean felt trapped. She also felt alone.
Getting up, she took the basket downstairs into the kitchen. Jean looked out of the window and saw her neighbour, Christine, who waved at her. She hadn't gotten around to talking to her neighbours, yet. Not that she knew many of them. Switching on the radio, Jean hummed along to a song while she loaded and turned on the washing machine. But the doorbell interrupted her. It surprised Jean, as she wasn't expecting anybody. When she opened the front door, she found Emma standing on the doorstep, holding a black bag.
The Perfect Wife Page 2
