The Other Woman

by Sandie Jones

  There was an awkward cough from one of the hundred-strong congregation, no doubt from someone uncomfortable with the enforced hush, and then a small titter followed, but the sound was muffled by the pounding in my head.

  I looked down at the Order of Service in my shaking hands. Kate & James was scrawled prettily across the top in silver italics, but the picture of them both underneath swam in front of my eyes, their features hazy.

  The seconds ticked by like hours as a deafening stillness resounded around the chapel. This was it. This was my only chance. I could stop this before it was too late. The adrenaline surged through my body as I went to step forward. I looked around, at the man by my side, our baby in his arms, and at the friends and family gathered for this momentous occasion, all looking on, dewy-eyed, with proud smiles.

  I followed their gaze to Kate, whose eyes were wide in wonderment at the man standing beside her. The realization that she was starring in her very own fairy tale was apparent in her smile. James, with his deep-blue eyes, looked at his bride in awe, and I felt a tug on my heart.

  I’ve had plenty of time to stop this from happening. From letting it get this far. Kate deserved to know the truth. I owed her that much.

  But I wasn’t brave enough then, and I’m not brave enough now.

  The vicar cleared his throat to continue, and Kate looked around coyly, before giving an exaggerated sigh of relief. The guests chuckled, and James’s shoulders visibly relaxed. The moment was gone, and with it my last chance.

  The soprano sang a rousing rendition of ‘Jerusalem’, and, as the sun streamed through the stained-glass windows, I felt a hundred hearts sink at the thought of what else they could be doing on this unusually warm and bright April day. For, despite the fixed grins, there is always an underlying bristle of resentment at weddings.

  We all rush to support this outpouring of love and commitment, yet scratch the surface, and you’ll find we feel more obliged than genuinely willing. There is always something better we could be doing with ourselves on a sunny Saturday afternoon than spending it sitting next to a dull stranger for a long, drawn-out dinner. Especially given that, in order to do so, we’ve spent money we don’t have, on an outfit we’ll wear only once, and on the cheapest present we could find on the very expensive John Lewis gift list.

  I could quite literally feel the jealousies and insecurities oozing out of the people around me. No doubt there was someone in the pews who was still friends with the groom’s ex-girlfriend, and was battling their own conscience as to whether they should really be here. Then there would surely be the woman who had been dating her partner for way longer than she felt warranted a proposal, yet still there had been nothing. There would be the couple who were both looking longingly at the bride, both wanting her body, but for entirely different reasons, and then there would be the rest of the congregation, who’d be remembering the time when this was their day, their happy-ever-after, and wondering where it had all gone wrong.

  But today there was someone who felt all this far more acutely than anyone else. Who suppressed the searing pain in her chest as the vicar pronounced Kate and James husband and wife, and who smiled sweetly as they kissed.

  Adam reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze, as I swallowed the tears that were burning the back of my throat. One year ago, this was supposed to be our day, our happy-ever-after, and I knew exactly why it had all gone wrong.

  I watched Pammie, a smile fixed on her face, as she played the perfect mother of the groom in her raspberry-pink satin dress and matching short-sleeved jacket. I wanted to see her pain, to know that watching her younger son get married was killing her, but the mask was rigid.

  I wished I could disguise my own feelings, but they were too close to the surface, too raw. I cried as James and Kate walked back down the aisle together, jealous that their union was sealed, and scared for our futures.

  If Kate had any concerns, she didn’t show them as she embraced Pammie warmly outside the church. ‘That was beautiful,’ Pammie cried. ‘You’re beautiful,’ she added, touching Kate’s cheek.

  Kate smiled and hugged her again. ‘Let me introduce you to everyone,’ she said, taking Pammie by the hand and heading off in the direction of the biggest group there.

  In that instant, I’d gone from seeing Kate as a kindred spirit, the only other person that could relate to me, to someone on the other side, her side, and I suddenly felt so desperately alone.

  Adam spent the rest of the day smiling at me at all the right times, but whenever he could, he’d be as far away as possible. I clung onto Poppy, my social barrier, and used her to bat off any uncomfortable situations. Adam’s aunts and cousins came over to coo at her, and to ask if we’d set a new date for our wedding.

  ‘No, not yet,’ I said, on repeat. ‘Hopefully soon, but we’ve got our hands full at the moment.’

  ‘Aye, haven’t you just,’ replied lovely Linda, Pammie’s sister. ‘But fingers crossed that by then, we’ll know that Pammie’s in the clear. We’ll really have something to celebrate then.’

  ‘She was given the all clear months ago,’ I said, confused.

  Linda grimaced, as if berating herself. ‘Sorry, I assumed you knew . . .’

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘That it had come back again. I shouldn’t have said anything . . .’

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ I laughed. So, she’d tried her luck and pulled off the same stunt to try and stop James and Kate’s wedding? I felt a warped sense of satisfaction that it wasn’t personal, but then I had to laugh at myself. How could anything she’d done not be personal?

  I had to take my hat off to Kate, and even more so to James, for not allowing his mother to ruin their special day with her cruel lies. I felt touched, and, if I was honest with myself, a little envious, that James had stood up for Kate and ignored Pammie’s wicked attempt to derail their happiness. He’d made a stand against her; he’d done what Adam should have done months ago.

  ‘So, what’s she got this time?’ I asked Linda.

  She looked a little taken aback. ‘It’s in her lungs.’

  ‘How long have they given her, then?’ I couldn’t stop myself.

  ‘They haven’t,’ she said tightly. ‘She’s having treatment, and we’ll have to see where we get to. If you’ll excuse me . . .’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, as I watched her walk away. Maybe it was me. Maybe Pammie wasn’t the problem. What if it was me? Or even worse, what if Pammie had made me believe that it was me?

  I made my way over to Kate, who was being the consummate professional bride, making sure she got round everyone, thanking them all for their good wishes. I thought how funny it was that, as a guest, you don’t want to take up too much of the bride’s time, you feel that you’re keeping them from something or someone far more important. Yet she must feel constantly rebuffed, as she moves from one person to another, each of them telling her that they don’t want to hold her up. I tapped her on the shoulder, and she swung round, a big smile on her face.

  ‘You look stunning,’ I said, acutely aware that she’d probably heard it a thousand times already today, and it was beginning to wear thin.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, flashing those perfect white teeth. ‘Is this little Poppy? Oh, she’s beautiful.’

  Now that she was finally in front of me, I didn’t know what to say to her. How to articulate everything I needed her to know. Wasn’t it too late now, anyway?

  ‘Kate . . . I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch these past few months. I could have done a better job at welcoming you into the formidable Banks family.’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t be silly, you’ve had more than enough on your plate and, besides, Pammie’s been great. I can’t tell you what a help she’s been, especially with my own folks being over in Ireland.’

  I wasn’t aware that I was pulling a strange face but I must have been, as she said, ‘What? What’s up?’

  ‘Sorry, are we talking about the same woman?’ I laughed.<
br />
  ‘Um, yeah, I think so,’ she said, confused.

  ‘Pammie’s been great, has she?’ I asked. I could feel that I’d put her on guard.

  ‘Yeah, she has. I don’t know what I would have done without her, to be honest.’

  Was this a joke? I’d imagined us arranging to meet up once she came back from honeymoon, to discuss what we were going to do about Pammie, how we were going to deal with her, together, as a team, but Kate was making it sound as if Pammie might as well be going with them.

  ‘What, she’s helped you, without incident?’ I asked. I couldn’t quite get my head around this.

  ‘Incident?’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I understand what you mean.’

  ‘Pammie’s helped you, genuinely helped you? Like, without judgement or comment? Without making you feel as if you were going mad?’

  ‘Oh, I know what you’re talking about!’ She laughed, as if she’d finally got it.

  I felt myself breathe out. Thank God.

  ‘I honestly thought I was losing it,’ she said. ‘When I went to pick up my dress . . .’

  I nodded encouragingly, spurring her on. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I offered my credit card, but the shop said it had already been paid for. I was like, “Er, no, I definitely need to pay”, but they wouldn’t have it. I felt like some kind of scammer when I left there with a £1,500 dress over my arm. I couldn’t work it out, but then when I called Pammie that afternoon, she told me it was a present from her. I honestly couldn’t believe it.’

  Nor could I. I stood there open-mouthed as she went on.

  ‘We try and meet up every other Saturday morning, just for a coffee and a bit of brekkie. Why don’t you come along, if you have time? We know how busy you are.’

  We? I couldn’t ever imagine using the word ‘we’ in a sentence about Pammie.

  ‘Does she ever say anything? About me, I mean?’

  Kate looked perplexed. ‘In what way?’

  ‘Just anything. Do you talk about me? What does she say?’

  ‘Only that you’re doing so well with the baby. She loves Poppy.’

  I nodded. ‘Great, well, give me a call once you’re back, and we can put something in the diary.’

  ‘Cool,’ she said, before picking up the bottom of her train and gliding off.

  I looked around for Adam. It was getting late and I needed to get Poppy to bed. We’d booked a room in the hotel, just across the courtyard, but we’d barely managed to live together in the flat for the past fortnight, so I didn’t imagine that sharing a room was going to be much fun.

  ‘You looking for Adam?’ asked James, coming over to me.

  ‘Yes,’ I said bluntly.

  ‘The last time I saw him, he was heading outside,’ he said. ‘Probably to have a cigarette.’

  I stopped in my tracks and looked at him as if he was stupid. ‘Funny, I didn’t know he smoked.’

  ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about him,’ he said, under his breath.

  Ignoring him, I walked to the patio doors, towards the garden, but could feel him still behind me. It was dark outside and I pulled Poppy’s blanket tighter around her. The days were warm for April, but the evenings were still chilly.

  There was a gaggle of revellers smoking to the left, the grounds beyond them gently lit, but Adam wasn’t there. I turned to go right, past the gargoyles at the top of the steps, and headed towards the darkness, when James pulled at my arm. ‘Why don’t you come back in? It’s cold out here.’

  I shrugged him off and blindly carried on walking. I needed to create as much space between me and him as I could. I saw the entrance to the hedged maze which earlier had seen visitors pay a small fortune to enter. I didn’t know where I was going much beyond that. I could feel tears welling up, and I hugged Poppy closer in the vain hope that she’d hide them.

  ‘Will you just wait a minute?’ he called after me.

  I turned to face him. ‘Please, James—’

  I think he heard the laughter coming from within the box-hedge walls of the maze before me.

  ‘Look, Em, why don’t we go back inside,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s too cold out here for Poppy.’

  I looked at her sleeping soundly in my arms and knew he was probably right, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the sound.

  ‘Ssh!’ squealed a female voice. ‘I’ve lost a shoe.’

  There was more laughing.

  ‘Got it, got it,’ she said drunkenly.

  ‘Make sure you look decent,’ said a man’s voice. ‘Can’t have you going back out there with your knickers round your ankles.’

  Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I felt myself falling and instinctively curled myself over Poppy to protect her. I could see flashes of colour and light as I sank further into what felt like a turning kaleidoscope. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and imagined a cover over my ears, stopping me from hearing what I knew I’d just heard. I willed my brain to scramble the words so I was unable to decipher them, change the voice to one I didn’t know. I was still falling, bracing myself for the bottom, but it never came. I opened my eyes and saw James peering down at me, his arms enveloping me and Poppy.

  ‘Let’s get you back inside,’ he said.

  ‘No,’ I said breathlessly. ‘I want to wait here. See his face.’

  ‘Please, Em,’ he went on. ‘You don’t need to do this. Please come back inside.’

  ‘Don’t you dare tell me what I do and don’t need,’ I cried. He went to put his arm around me, but I shrugged it off.

  It may have been the darkness or his drunken state, but it took a while for Adam to register that it was me when he emerged from the maze. I felt numb as I watched his brain work it out.

  ‘Em?’ he slurred. He turned to look at his dishevelled companion, her hair on end, and her bra straps hanging halfway down her arms. I recognized her as one of the congregation from earlier in the day. But then her mink satin dress and fancy up-do had looked classy. Now, the material was ruched up around her hips, and her lipstick was smeared all over her face.

  ‘What are you doing out here? Poppy will catch her death of cold.’

  If I hadn’t been holding her in my arms, I would have swung for him. ‘How sweet,’ I said, icily. ‘So considerate.’

  ‘Hi,’ said the woman beside him, lurching forward with an outward hand. ‘I’m—’

  ‘Knock it off,’ spat Adam at her.

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?’

  ‘Leave it, Em,’ said Adam.

  ‘Introduce me to your fucking friend,’ I hissed.

  ‘Er . . . this is . . . this is . . .’

  ‘Oh, don’t tell me . . .’ she slurred. ‘This is your wife and kid.’ She laughed to herself. ‘Wouldn’t that be something, eh?’

  I remained silent.

  ‘Oh, Christ, really?’ she said, the obvious suddenly dawning on her.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ I said tightly.

  ‘Sorry,’ she managed before stumbling away. I watched numbly as she headed back to the hotel, zigzagging across the lawn.

  ‘Do all your women need to be in that state?’ I asked coldly.

  ‘Em, let’s get you back inside,’ said James, holding onto my elbow and trying to steer me away. I held firm.

  ‘Believe it or not, some sober women do actually want to fuck me as well. Unlike my fiancée.’ He put the last word in inverted commas with his fingers.

  ‘Okay, that’s enough, Adam,’ interjected James. ‘Emily, let’s go.’

  I shrugged him off. ‘So, there’s more than one?’

  Adam laughed. ‘What did you think was going to happen? You haven’t let me near you for months. What do you think I am, a monk?’

  ‘Go fuck yourself,’ I cried.

  ‘Gladly,’ he called out, as I turned my back to him.

  ‘I’m so sorry you had to see that,’ said James.

  ‘Would you mind calling me a cab, please?’ I said numbly. �
�I’d like to take Poppy home.’

  43

  Pippa was my rock for the next five days, whilst I processed what Adam had done and what it meant. I used to scorn women who’d found out their partners were cheating and said things like, ‘I just didn’t see it coming. It was so out of character.’

  I’d pitied them for not seeing what was clearly in front of their eyes. Yet here I am, thinking the very same thing. I couldn’t even begin to compute it. We’d had a tough time recently, what with Pammie and the baby, but I didn’t think we’d reached the stage where he’d happily risk throwing everything away.

  ‘What are you going to do?’ Pippa asked for the umpteenth time. ‘What do you want to do?’

  ‘What I want to do and what I should do are two entirely different things,’ I said.

  She knew what I meant. We’d had enough ‘what would you do if your boyfriend strayed?’ conversations to last us a lifetime. Except, when you thought he wouldn’t, it was a whole lot easier to take the moral high ground, and declare that if he ever did, that would be it; you’d be out of there. Yet now, in the mire of it all, having loved that person and believing I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, suddenly things aren’t quite so clear-cut.

  ‘It wasn’t what he did, it was how he did it,’ I said.

  ‘Does it make a difference?’ Pippa asked. ‘A cheat’s a cheat.’

  ‘It was the way he spoke to me, the way he alluded to there being more. Lots more. Why would he feel the need to hurt me like that?’

  ‘Er, because he’s a first-class tosser?’

  ‘How could this have happened to me again?’ I cried. ‘What a fool I’ve been.’

  Pippa put a reassuring hand on my back. ‘It’s not you who’s the fool,’ she said. ‘If he can’t see what he stands to lose . . .’

  ‘So where do I go from here?’ I asked.

  ‘Do you love him?’

  ‘Of course I do, but I’m not prepared to take this lying down. If he’s coming back, it’s going to be on my terms.’

  ‘You can’t take him back,’ she cried. ‘You just can’t.’