The Other Woman

by Sandie Jones

  ‘It’s late. You go to bed. I’ll wait up for Adam,’ I went on. ‘You’re right. I should stay up for him. You never know what he might need or want.’

  Her face didn’t show it, but we both knew it was one point to me.

  ‘Good girl,’ she said, pushing herself up off the sofa.

  I watched as she stood and stretched her arms high above her head. Something she never would have done in front of Adam, for fear of showing how agile she really was. She’d become a master of deception, subtly changing her demeanour, prowess, and even her voice, I’d noticed, when he was around.

  ‘So, you’ll make sure he gets in safely?’

  I nodded.

  ‘And if he’s been drinking, don’t start with your nagging. He’s allowed off the leash every once in a while.’

  I looked at her, and shook my head in disbelief. I wondered if she’d really had the kind of marriage she purported to have had with Jim. I couldn’t see her as a downtrodden wife, waiting on her husband’s every whim and fancy. She was too strong a character. But then, perhaps it was losing him that had given her such strength. She’d had to step up to care for her two boys. I couldn’t ever imagine being able to do that. I wondered if that had created this abnormal bond. One that she now felt was threatened by her sons being in normal relationships. There was a tiny part of me that could begin to feel sorry for her, that wanted to sit her down and tell her that I wasn’t taking her son away. That she could still be a part of his life, our life. It didn’t have to be this virtual tug of war, with both of us seemingly trying to prove who Adam loved the most. But then I remembered all the things she’d done and said, the unnecessary hurt she’d caused me. We could have been friends. Christ, she might even have gained a daughter, something she’d once told me she felt she’d missed out on. But that chance had been and gone – all of her own doing – and if that’s how she wanted it to be, then so be it, but I wasn’t going to allow her to break me down, especially in my own home. She had to go.

  The DVD player had illuminated 12:24 the last time I looked, but God knows what time it was when Adam fell on my head in a clumsy attempt to get his shoes off.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, in answer to my yelp. ‘What are you doing there?’

  I sat up, bleary-eyed, on the sofa, my neck knotted and tight. ‘Waiting for you, like a good wifey,’ I whispered, still trying to get my bearings.

  He was shoeless and standing in front of me, swaying ever so slightly. ‘Ah, that’s so sweet,’ he managed. ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

  ‘It’s not so much about what you deserve, as about what I need,’ I said, half laughing, pulling him towards me by his belt. ‘It’s been such a long time.’ His trouser zip was in line with my face, and I reached for it.

  ‘We can’t,’ he mumbled, half-heartedly. ‘She might come in.’

  I shrugged my shoulders and carried on.

  ‘Ssh, no, Em. Seriously, we can’t.’ He was giggling now and I knew I was going to get my own way because I knew he wanted me to.

  ‘It’s been almost a week,’ I whispered, my hands still busy. ‘How much longer are we expected to wait?’

  He suddenly held my fumbling hands still. ‘Just a little longer. Till she’s back on her feet properly.’

  ‘How much longer?’ I went on, brushing his hand aside. ‘I need a date, something I can work towards, to know when we’ll finally get our flat back.’

  ‘I know it’s hard, Em, but just give it a few more days.’

  ‘So, by Sunday?’ I pushed.

  He hesitated.

  ‘Promise me Sunday, or I’m going to carry on.’

  ‘That puts me in a lose–lose situation.’ He laughed.

  I took him in my hand and felt his whole body tense.

  ‘Christ,’ he breathed.

  ‘What’s it going to be?’ I teased. ‘Say Sunday and I’ll stop.’

  I picked up the pace.

  ‘Jesus, Em.’

  ‘Sunday and stop, or Sunday and keep going?’ He was right – he couldn’t win.

  He moaned, and I knew there was no way he was going to ask me to stop now. ‘Just keep going,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t stop.’

  That’s what I thought. The dynamics in this three-way relationship needed to shift, and darling Pammie needed to know that it was me and Adam against the world, together as equals, as the couple we were, not the two separate entities that she’d confused us for, in her warped, twisted mind.

  I could never have imagined that seeing her angelic son in my mouth would do the trick.

  15

  We didn’t hear anything from Adam’s mum for three weeks after she’d walked in on us. The shock of seeing us in such a compromising position had, apparently, left her shell-shocked and emotionally scarred.

  ‘No mother should ever have to see that,’ she’d dramatically confessed to James, who told us when he popped by to talk about the arrangements for our impending wedding. There’d been a sudden flux of activity as Adam had found a beautiful hotel in Tunbridge Wells that had a chapel attached, and with only one Saturday free this side of summer, we’d gone ahead and booked it. Now, faced with only a couple of months to organize everything, the panic was setting in and things were having to get sorted on the tout de suite, though I imagined the stag arrangements would get more airtime between James and Adam.

  ‘I don’t want to discuss this,’ Adam had snapped, as the three of us stood in the kitchen, listening to James recount his mother’s overwrought outburst. I made to go to him, but he turned away and huffed off towards the bedroom, leaving James and me in his wake.

  We both pulled faces and stifled a giggle. A dimple dented his left cheek. ‘I feel bad for laughing, but if I don’t, I’m going to cry,’ I said.

  James peered at me over the top of his coffee mug, his eyes smiling. ‘It could have been worse.’

  I looked at him as if he was mad. ‘Er, how exactly?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he mumbled. ‘But I’m sure there’s someone out there who’s been in a worse predicament.’

  ‘Oh, and that’s supposed to make me feel better, is it?’ I laughed.

  He put a finger to his lips. ‘Ssh, don’t let him hear us laughing. He’ll only get mad.’

  ‘He’s mad enough already,’ I said quietly. ‘He’s been foul ever since it happened. He blames me for doing it in the first place.’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Well, maybe he needs to be reminded that it takes two to tango?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  I was aware that we were talking in hushed voices, and didn’t want Adam to think we were talking about him, even though we were.

  ‘So . . .’ I said loudly. ‘Another coffee?’ I couldn’t think of anything else to say. He held up his half-full mug and shook his head. I made myself another, banging about in the kitchen as I did so.

  ‘Any ideas on what we can do about your mother?’ I asked, aware that I might be crossing a line. I screwed up my face as I waited for his response.

  ‘She’ll get over it,’ he said softly.

  I smiled. ‘I don’t think it’ll be anytime soon. You know what your mum’s like. She’ll drag it out for as long as she can.’ I wasn’t sure whether I’d meant to say that out loud.

  ‘Her bark’s worse than her bite,’ he said, after a long pause. ‘She’ll come round.’

  The breath that I’d been holding in escaped through my lips, and the tension in my shoulders ebbed away. If Adam hadn’t been in the next room, I would have told James everything. It was all there, waiting on the tip of my tongue, desperate to get out. I wished that Adam could be more like James, it would be easier to talk to him about his mother. James would understand how I felt, how she made me feel. He’d support me and back me up when she had me in a corner. I knew he would.

  He smiled that smile again, as if he was reading my mind. ‘She just needs a bit of time, that’s all.’

&nb
sp; I didn’t mind that. She could have all the time in the world. Take as long as she needed. It wasn’t as if I was missing her. If the truth be known, I was secretly thrilled that it had put some distance between her and us. But I ought to be careful what I wished for, as, since it all happened, Adam’s sex drive had fallen through the floor. It was nigh on impossible to get him in the mood for anything other than a chaste kiss when he left for work. I tried to convince myself that it was just a coincidence, that he was under pressure at work and was tired. But every time I pictured Pammie seeing us, and feeling the shock run through Adam’s body, I knew it had had a bigger effect on him than I could even begin to imagine.

  ‘I’m sorry, I just don’t feel like it,’ he said, later that night, as I sauntered into the bedroom in a new lacy underwear set from Victoria’s Secret.

  ‘When do you think you might feel like it?’ I said sulkily. ‘Anytime soon?’

  ‘Just not tonight.’

  ‘But I can make all your troubles slip away,’ I teased, as I got into bed and reached for him.

  ‘Just give it a break,’ he snapped, before turning his back on me and switching off the light.

  My mood wasn’t helped any the next morning, when two of my trainees called in sick. I knew one of them was flaky, but I was surprised and disappointed with Ryan. His diary was chock-a-block with appointments, which left me having to juggle both our schedules and somehow work a miracle by being in two places at once.

  By midday, I felt like I had steam coming out of my ears. My boss, Nathan, wanted me to step into a new business pitch, and a client I’d been working on for weeks was about to award the contract to a rival agency. I had allowed for neither.

  My mobile had rung at least thirty times, and my stress level was increasing with every call.

  ‘Yep, Emily Havistock,’ I barked, a tad more aggressively than I’d intended.

  ‘That bad, eh?’ said the male voice.

  ‘Sorry? Who’s calling?’ I hadn’t recognized the number, and already regretted answering it. I didn’t have time for a cold caller.

  ‘It’s James,’ he replied.

  I waited for something to click. ‘Sorry, James . . . ?’

  ‘Adam’s brother,’ he offered hesitantly.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘sorry, I was trying to place a James at work. Hi, how are you? I’m not with Adam, if that’s why you’re calling. Is it Pammie? Is she okay?’ I was rambling as my mind raced through a million different scenarios.

  ‘Yeah, she’s fine. It’s all good.’

  I was rather hoping for more than that, but he was making me work for it. ‘So, what’s up?’ I asked. ‘Are you okay?’

  It felt odd to be talking to James on the phone. Texting was somehow different. Our once-easy friendship felt like it was crossing a line.

  ‘Yes, I’m all good.’ He drew it out slowly. I waited, unsure what to say next.

  ‘It’s just that . . . erm . . . I’m in your area, and wondered if you were free for a quick coffee?’

  ‘What?’ I don’t know if I said it out loud.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Erm, yeah, hi.’

  ‘I didn’t catch that. Was that yes or no?’

  ‘Ah . . . I’m sorry, I’m in Canary Wharf right now. That would have been great, but I’m up to my neck in it today. I’ve got back-to-back appointments. They drive us hard in this industry.’ I heard myself give a fake laugh to lighten the mood. I doubted he knew me well enough to tell.

  I thought of the man at the other end of the line. I’d always pictured him up to his ankles in soil, raking over a flowerbed and wiping his hands down a grubby grey t-shirt that used to be white. His features, so much like Adam’s, but younger, sharper, more chiselled. His fingernails caked in dirt as he pushed back his hair from his face.

  Now he was here, in what I’d heard him refer to as the concrete metropolis. I’d assumed he wasn’t a fan of the city, so what was he doing here? And would he now be in a suit, walking through the maze of high-rise buildings, becoming more and more desperate to return to the green pastures that he adored?

  The realization that I’d imagined him, and clearly not for the first time, made me blush.

  I stuttered into the gaping silence, ‘Erm – maybe another time?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, no biggie,’ he said quickly, sounding embarrassed and desperate to get off the phone.

  I said goodbye into the silence he left behind, and stood stock-still on the corner of Cabot Square, the bitter wind whistling around me, perplexed and staring at my phone.

  I tried to concentrate on work, but there was a niggle at the back of my mind that I just couldn’t shake off. I’m in your area . . . ? Was he really, or was it more contrived than that? And if it was, why?

  16

  I don’t know why I didn’t tell Adam that James had called. I felt I should mention it, but was there really anything to tell? As James said, it was ‘no biggie’. Yet, had Adam called James’s girlfriend, on the off chance, just because he was passing, I’d have thought it spoke volumes. I was well aware there were double standards at work here.

  I’d spent the three weeks since the ‘incident’ trying to apply the same grown-up attitude to the stalemate that remained between me and Pammie. What had happened was regrettable, but once I really thought about it, it occurred to me that the issue was far greater for Adam and his mum than it was for me. Yes, I was embarrassed, but I was merely a pawn caught in the middle. If, God forbid, it had happened the other way around, and it had been my mum that had seen what Pammie saw, I’d have been absolutely devastated. So, although I doubted that she’d ever be my favourite person in the world, I decided I’d try my utmost to make it up to her, when the time was right. Though I hadn’t expected to put my new-found philosophy to the test so soon.

  We arranged to meet for lunch, the following Sunday, in a fish restaurant in Sevenoaks. ‘I think it would be better if we met on neutral territory,’ Pammie said. She made it sound like two heads of state were meeting in an attempt to stave off World War III. So, doing what we were told, as we always do, we met in Loch Fyne, just off the High Street. We parked up in a bay round the back of Marks & Spencer and Adam threw his arm around me as we cut through the passageway. It was a simple enough gesture, and one that he’d done a hundred times before, but when we’d not slept together for almost a month, his touch sent shivers through me. I’ll try again when we get home, I thought to myself. But there are only so many times you can keep putting yourself out there, knowing that you are going to be rejected. I keep a thin smile pasted onto my face and pretend it doesn’t matter, pulling him towards me for a cuddle, on the odd occasion he’ll let me. But it does matter. It really hurts, and once again, it’s all her fault.

  A chilly breeze took me by surprise as we rounded the corner and I pulled my coat tightly around me, thankful for both it and the chunky-knit jumper I had on underneath. It wasn’t my most glamorous look, but I wasn’t feeling in the least bit glamorous. I hadn’t even bothered to wash my hair this morning. It was almost a waste of shampoo and conditioner, as she was going to make a derisory comment regardless, whether my hair was in a greasy ponytail or cascading over my shoulders in shiny, bouncy curls.

  Even though we were five minutes late, I knew she wouldn’t be there. She never is. She likes to give it a good fifteen minutes before making her entrance, both to ensure she has everyone’s attention, and to save her feeling embarrassed whilst she waits on her own. There’s many a trick up Pammie’s sleeve, and I’ve learnt a few, but I imagine even I would be shocked if I knew them all.

  ‘So, are we going to talk about what happened?’ I asked Adam, as the maître d’ took his coat. I opted to keep mine on until I’d thawed out a little.

  ‘No,’ was all I got in response.

  ‘But don’t you think it needs to—’

  ‘Jesus, Em. Just leave it alone. She’s been through enough. I’m sure she doesn’t need it to be raked up again. I know I sure as hell don
’t.’

  Oh, what a joy this was going to be. Two, possibly three, hours stuck between a woman who couldn’t stand the sight of me and a fiancé who couldn’t bear to be near me. It only occurred to me then, as we were sitting down at a booth-like table, that James might come along as well, to support his poor aggrieved mother. Great, could this get any worse?

  Right on cue, a quarter of an hour after we’d arranged to meet, in came Pammie, her face a complicated mixture of love and hatred. She gave Adam a big hug as she greeted him.

  ‘Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you, I was beginning to wonder . . .’ She left it hanging there, and looked down to the floor with sad eyes for maximum effect.

  ‘And Emily?’ she said, turning to me, almost feigning surprise that I was there. ‘It’s been a while.’ Her tone was cold and she’d already turned away from me when she said, ‘But you’re looking well. You’ve put some weight on, which was much needed.’

  I signalled to Adam, in the hope that he’d see my plight, but he just discreetly shook his head and looked back to her.

  ‘I haven’t, actually, it must just be this big coat and jumper.’ I said, pulling at the rib of it as if to prove its volume, but they were both already chatting about something else.

  Three glasses of Pinot Grigio in, and it was just getting worse. It felt like they had their own private club, one which I didn’t have a membership to.

  ‘Oh, do you remember when you and James found those crabs on the beach in Whitstable?’ She laughed.

  Adam grinned widely. ‘And we wrote our names on their backs and raced them.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said, through an over-exaggerated fit of the giggles.

  ‘Mine never won,’ he said.

  ‘Wasn’t there an almighty rumpus over something?’ asked Pammie. ‘I remember James crying all the way home.’

  Adam rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t you remember? He got all stressed because we went to fill our buckets up from the sea, only to come back and find his crab all smashed up.’