The Second Wife aka Wives Behaving Badly

by Elizabeth Buchan

  My eyes filled. I would definitely have to mow the lawn, and I hadn’t a clue how to set about it. Yet mowing lawns couldn’t be that difficult.

  14

  Rose telephoned as I was planning the order of service. She asked how I was, and had I managed to sleep, then went straight to the point. ‘Minty, I’d like to give an address at the funeral.’

  ‘Do wives give addresses?’

  ‘I’m not his wife, remember. I’m a… well, friend-wife.’

  ‘I thought only people who didn’t care too much gave the address. Otherwise you break down.’

  ‘It’s my last gift to him. The children would like it.’

  ‘Your children.’

  ‘Nathan’s children.’ She sounded very far away. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Romania. A trip that’s been planned for months. I couldn’t get out of it but I’m cutting it short. Is that agreed? Only five minutes, but I don’t trust -’

  ‘Trust,’ my voice echoed feebly.

  ‘Anyone else to give the real Nathan.’

  Was the real Nathan the man who colour-coded his files? Who said, ‘We have to be careful with money’? The man who had longed to put on a worn pair of jeans, battered boots and walk the cliffs above Priac Bay? Or was he the man who had propped himself on his elbow and searched unsuccessfully for the words to explain how happy he felt?

  ‘Rose, I’ve made a decision. Nathan will be buried in Altringham. I thought it better he was somewhere where he’d been known. Where he won’t be alone.’

  ‘Oh, Minty.’ Rose was almost inaudible. ‘Thank you.’

  Barely half an hour later, Poppy was on the phone. She was hostile and cold, and I no less so. ‘About the hymns, Minty. Dad’s favourite was “Immortal, Invisible”. We should start with that. He was very particular about hymns.’

  ‘Was he?’

  ‘You wouldn’t know, perhaps. You didn’t need hymns when he married you. And “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling” to finish with.’

  I groped for a dim memory of various weddings I had attended with Nathan when those hymns had been sung. ‘I don’t think he liked either of them. He thought they were boring.’

  But Poppy had appointed herself keeper of her father’s flame, and in this matter she was not to be denied. Her voice trembled with anger. ‘I think we’re the ones to know what Dad liked or disliked.’

  During the first verse of ‘Immortal, Invisible’, Sam bent his head and wept. Jilly slid her hand unobtrusively under his elbow and pressed closer. He edged away from her and blew his nose. Jilly dropped her hand and stared straight ahead.

  Across the aisle, seated on either side of me, Felix and Lucas shifted uneasily at the sight of their big brother’s grief. For the hundredth time, I questioned if they should be at the service. Both had gone missing as we were due to leave Lakey Street and, after an increasingly tense search, Eve discovered them in Nathan’s cupboard. I bribed them out with a bag of normally forbidden Tangfastics. As Felix got into the car, he asked, ‘If we put Daddy in the ground does that mean he’ll grow again?’

  In the pew directly behind us, elegant and sombre in black, Gisela’s voice was a pleasant alto, ‘… God only wise.’ Beside her, Roger sang bass rather badly. Gisela had been as good as her word and had kept in constant touch. ‘Ask me anything,’ she said. ‘I’m a professional widow. I know what to do.’

  I held Felix and Lucas’s hands in my gloved ones and sang the hymn chosen by Rose, Sam and Poppy. I rarely wore gloves, and the weather was warmer, but they seemed necessary at a funeral, as necessary as this rite of passage, and I longed for the funeral to arrive. ‘The dead are always with us,’ runs the truism. Everyone is accompanied by a crocodile of ghosts, trailing fore and aft. I sensed that Nathan was hovering over us now, seeking permission to leave.

  The church at Altringham was as pretty and ancient as Poppy had vowed, and every pew was taken, which, considering Altringham was more than an hour’s journey from London, was a tribute to Nathan. The nave was filled with the scent of the narcissi and lilies that had been placed in the window niches in huge bowls. More were massed on the altar and beside the coffin, which was made of bamboo – Nathan was going to his grave with impeccable green credentials. There were two flower arrangements on top. The first was a bouquet of pink and white camellias whose label read: ‘Nathan and Daddy, with love’. The second, white roses woven with laurel leaves and ferns, read, ‘From Rose, Sam and Poppy, with all our love’. The scent was dense, almost solid. I pressed my gloved fingers to my mouth. For ever after, I would associate this light, sweet, unbearable perfume with death.

  Earlier, just after the coffin had been brought in and before the service, I had left the boys in Eve’s charge and sneaked into the then empty church. The porch was cluttered with leaflets, service manuals and postcards whose edges were curling. Have I got it right? I wanted to ask the presence in the coffin, which was not quite body and not quite spirit. Do you like the flowers? Gisela’s florist had been more than helpful. ‘Just leave it to me, Mrs Lloyd,’ she said. ‘I’ll make sure I get what you and he would want.’

  Would the wine, to be served at the funeral wake at the local hotel, be drinkable, the sandwiches acceptable? The rules of this ritual and how it should be conducted were as mysterious to me as those that had governed my faltering marriage. I had a nagging feeling that a good funeral lasted longer in the memory than a wedding. I owed Nathan so much, a debt I could never repay, and if nothing else, I could ensure that the reach of his memory stretched long.

  Hymns… undertakers… tea for the twins… There was a hint of hysteria as I ticked off the mental list, walking down the aisle. There had been so many to work through, and so much advice of which, mostly, I couldn’t remember a word – except what Mrs Jenkins had offered at school. Glasses positioned at the end of her nose, a gesture designed to ward off intimate contact, she had said that Felix and Lucas should go to their father’s funeral because it offered ‘closure’.

  I approached the coffin, craving the moment of silence and calm in which I would try to talk to Nathan for the last time.

  I planned to tell him again: I am sorry.

  My heels clacked on the uneven tiles and a woman sitting in the front pew swivelled round. I thought it would be you,’ said Rose. Her hair was twisted into a chignon, and she wore an exquisitely cut linen dress and jacket (French, no doubt). A bouquet of white roses lapped with laurel and ferns lay on her lap. She was pale but she had presented herself with distinction as the not-quite-but – almost-widow.

  I slipped into the pew beside her, then gazed into the face that was bent towards me. Like my own skin and bone, Rose was impossible to eradicate. I could never scrape her away. Nathan had lived with her first, had had his first children with her, died with her. On that last day, stricken and beaten, he had fumbled his way… to Rose.

  She was to blame for everything and nothing.

  In the window embrasures, the bowls of flowers seemed to float, poised on the boundaries of this world and some spectral realm. ‘Do you think the flowers will do? The florist was uncanny. She seemed to know,’ I said.

  Rose hesitated. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I had a word with her and told her what Nathan preferred.’ She touched one of the roses in the bouquet on her lap. They were creamy white, on the edge of full bloom, perfect, as flowers chosen by Rose would be. ‘I thought I wouldn’t be treading on your toes. You’d want what Nathan liked?’

  ‘You should have asked me.’

  At that she coloured. ‘Perhaps, but you were busy and I know you want to keep contact between us to a minimum. I thought you would agree that it was Nathan who was important.’

  We looked at each other and, for the thousandth time, I asked myself why I had chosen to use Rose, of all people, in the way that I had.

  She pointed to the bouquet. ‘I’m going to put this on the coffin with your flowers. It’s from us, the family.’

  ‘Ah…’ The sound slid away from
me.

  ‘You can’t possibly say no.’

  Anything was possible. ‘Please,’ I said, and gestured towards the coffin. But I had the curious sensation that my years with Nathan had disappeared, pulverized in the fierce, implacable determination of his first family.

  Rose got to her feet and her linen dress fell into place as it should. The heavy gold ring gleamed on her finger. She placed the flowers beside mine on the coffin and rested her hand briefly on it. Tor you, Nathan,’ she said to the coffin. ‘They’re the best I could get.’

  She turned round. ‘Are the twins coming today?’

  Yes. I wasn’t sure about subjecting them… But they’re here.’

  ‘There you are.’ Poppy rustled up, pale and hollow-eyed. ‘I got here early to help out.’ She slipped a hand under her mother’s elbow and peered into her face. ‘Are you OK?’ she inquired anxiously. ‘Will you get through?’ Poppy wanted – needed – Rose to be bowed down with grief. ‘You’re doing brilliantly, Mum. I’ll look after you later.’

  Mother and daughter exchanged a glance of perfect understanding. Without being told, Rose knew that Poppy was terrified yet elated by the drama of her sorrow and Poppy understood that her mother’s courage was stretched taut.

  ‘Minty, I’m glad you agreed to let Dad be buried here.’ Poppy looked round the church. ‘It would have been wrong to put him elsewhere. What made you change your mind?’

  Rose stroked Poppy’s hand. ‘Shush. This isn’t the time.’

  In the organ loft, the organist unlocked his instrument and settled himself. The pipes released a series of groans and sighs, some distinctly digestive. My lips twitched.

  Poppy hadn’t finished with me. ‘It would have been awful in the future if you’d met someone else and gone to live – oh, I don’t know, Spain or somewhere, and he would have been alone in London.’

  ‘Poppy.’ Rose was sharp. ‘Enough.’

  At that moment, I admired Poppy for her truculence and rudeness, and her fine line in insult. ‘Listen to me, I would never live in Marbella. Got it?’

  Organ and congregation stumbled to the end of the hymn. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flutter of several white handkerchiefs. In a dark suit and black tie, Roger approached the lectern. He cleared his throat. At that moment, the sun came out and a multi-coloured refraction of light from the window spread over the floor of the nave. ‘I knew Nathan for twenty years, many of them as a colleague,’ he began. ‘He was a company man, through and through. We fought many battles together, and rejoiced when we won.’

  Had Nathan been a company man? I supposed so. Roger smiled, suggesting recollected joys of the companionship he had shared with Nathan in pursuit of the company’s welfare. We live a life of false smiles. It is one of the prices we pay for civilization – bared teeth and stretched lips, unholy thoughts teeming behind them. I bet Roger couldn’t remember anything truly significant about Nathan.

  ‘Loyalty is what distinguished Nathan… He was loyal to colleagues, to his work, ultra-loyal to the company…’

  I bit my lip and blanked out the rest of Roger’s speech.

  The service wore on. Richard read an extract from Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass. Afterwards, Rose took her place at the lectern. ‘This may seem strange,’ she addressed the congregation, ‘but Nathan discussed his funeral with me more than once.’

  She was disingenuous. There was nothing strange about people who had lived with each for a long time, and presumably loved each other, discussing their finale. It was those amid the intricacies of the second act who never got round to it. For the record, Nathan and I had never touched on the subject.

  There was a rustle, part-embarrassment, part-anticipation. The light fell over Rose. She was past coltish prettiness, and she had never been sexy, but there was beauty. If a face truly mirrored the inner being, Rose was offering hers for inspection, boldly and without pretence.

  Poppy’s hand flew to her mouth. Roger stared straight ahead and Felix whimpered. I bent over him. ‘Listen, Felix,’ I whispered, ‘it’s about Daddy.’

  Rose went on, ‘Nathan loved his family. He loved pottering in boats, mackerel fishing…’ She told her story, deconstructing the bland company man whom Roger had presented. Rose’s Nathan was a man who strove to think and to feel.

  She could have added, ‘The Nathan who shouted out the answers to a radio quiz programme, who disliked broccoli, who sat utterly still when he was thinking.’ She could have described Nathan cradling one or other of the twins and his struggle to find words…

  ‘He loved the poem I’m about to read. It was one of John Donne’s and Nathan felt… Nathan honoured humour. A man of strong feelings, he sometimes found it difficult to see the funny side of things. I know he wouldn’t mind me saying that, and I know he’d want me to tell you that he admired people who could find humour in difficult moments.’ She paused, and peered at the paper from which she was to read the poem. ‘Print’s a bit small,’ she said, and elicited a laugh.

  ‘Sweetest Love, I do not go

  For weariness of thee,

  Nor in hope the world can show

  A fitter Love for me:

  But since that I

  Must die at last, ’tis best

  To use myself in jest…’

  She read it in a husky but unwavering voice. This, indeed, was her gift to Nathan, the husband who had left her for me.

  Then we sang the hymn I was sure that Nathan had hated.

  The sandwiches were excellent, and the wine – Sam’s choice – was also good, a fact tacitly acknowledged by the guests who were swallowing it in large quantities.

  My former colleagues from Vistemax clustered round me. Rose’s former colleagues clustered round her. In between there was a no man’s land of relatives and friends who were not quite sure to which camp they should be seen to belong. The twins veered between the two and I lost count of how many times someone reached out and, almost absently, placed a hand on one or other of their heads.

  A combination of shock, grief, the excellent wine – you could take your pick – loosened tongues. I negotiated past Maeve Otley with a plate of sandwiches just as she was confiding, to Carolyne Shaker, ‘Of course, he was a nice man but he wasn’t exactly loyal to his family…’

  Carolyne, dull, sweet Carolyne, trussed up in a too-tight navy blue suit, replied, Well, he was loyal in his way.’

  Nathan’s cousin Clive collared me. ‘You must remember me. We met at Poppy and Richard’s wedding party.’

  ‘Clive, of course.’ Clive-the-expert-on-wind-turbines, arguably the most boring subject on earth.

  Clutching his wine, he edged closer and I noticed that his black tie was stained, his shirt fraying at the cuff. ‘What did the old boy die of?’ He seemed anxious and unsettled. ‘He wasn’t… you know…’ Clive tapped his nose. ‘Someone mentioned he was… er, in bed.’

  There and then, I abandoned Clive and made my way over to Sam. Glass in hand, he searched for something to say. ‘Minty… you’ve done this well.’

  That was something. ‘I want to say how sorry I am.’ Emotions had never been Sam’s strong point, and he looked uneasy. But I persisted: ‘He talked about you a lot. I know he wanted to talk to you about America.’

  Sam’s grasp tightened on his glass. ‘I’ve accepted the job, and I’m off to Austin in September.’

  ‘And Jilly.’

  ‘She hasn’t made up her mind, but I’m hoping to persuade her.’ His gaze shifted to his wife. Evidently some telepathy was working for Jilly turned, from a group that included Carolyne Shaker and Rose, to her husband and the exchange was neither sweet nor happy.

  ‘I’ll commute for the first few months,’ he said, then added miserably, ‘I’ll miss Dad.’

  Many of the guests did not stay long. Those who spoke to me edged over and proffered an excuse: a meeting, a train to catch and you know what the trains are like. Carolyne and Peter Shaker were among the first to go. Peter held out his hand. After a s
econd or two, I decided to take it.

  ‘This is difficult, I know,’ said Peter, ‘but, despite everything, Nathan was a friend.’

  ‘Well, yes. A friend.’ My inflection of ‘friend’ was intended to convey irony. ‘No doubt you have a meeting to go to.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’

  ‘A meeting that Nathan might have attended if he hadn’t been sacked?’

  Carolyne flushed, and stuffed a hand under her husband’s elbow. On closer inspection, there were signs that Peter’s elevation had had an effect. Her hair had been cut expertly and the flashy gold earrings had been replaced with diamond studs. ‘There’s no need to be like that, Minty.’

  The Shakers dematerialized as Martin came up. ‘Must go. The car’s waiting. But we’ll be in touch, as you know, Minty.’

  ‘There must be a fleet of company cars outside. Don’t get into the wrong one.’

  He smiled. ‘It was a good service, Minty. Good for Nathan. I’ll remember it.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted,’ I said.

  The room emptied, leaving a whiff of tobacco smoke from a rebel smoker, spilt wine, and egg-and-cress sandwiches squashed on to plates. Some time ago, Eve had borne away the protesting twins. They had gone back to London, which, I promised them, would be much nicer for them than being bored by all the grown-ups. Now only the family and Theo, the solicitor, remained. He gestured for us to gather round. ‘Why don’t you all sit down?’ he suggested.

  Theo leaned back against the table, on which were stacked the wine bottles and dirty glasses, and explained what was in Nathan’s will. ‘The estate is to be divided as follows. The arrangements are quite complicated, and involve the appointment of trustees. I’ll come back to that in a minute. But, briefly, the arrangements cover, first, the house at Lakey Street and its contents, and, second, Nathan’s investments and cash. Minty has a life interest in the house at Lakey Street, subject to her occupying it. If she chooses to live elsewhere, or if she dies, it is to be sold and the proceeds divided equally between the twins. If that happens before they are twenty-one, the trustees are to invest the money until they reach that age. The contents of the house are left to Minty absolutely, except a vase and two paintings, which Nathan specifically wanted to pass to Rose, Sam and Poppy, plus the dining-room table and chairs, and an inlaid half-moon table, which he particularly wished the twins to inherit, although Minty will have the right to look after them until the twins come of age. That leaves the investments and cash. Here, the trustees are instructed to realize everything and first to pay any money outstanding to Rose under the divorce arrangements, then a specified amount to Minty. The remainder is to be divided as follows: one third each is to go to Sam and Poppy, and one third to be divided between Lucas and Felix when they come of age. Until that time it will be invested by the trustees. Nathan’s only other asset was his pension, and he had already made arrangements to the effect that, in the event of his death, Minty would be entitled to a widow’s annuity. As you will appreciate, these are quite detailed arrangements, and Nathan appointed his financial adviser and me as trustees to ensure that his instructions would be carried out.’