My Husband's Lie: A page turning and emotional family drama

by Emma Davies

  Neither of us speaks for several minutes while we steadily work our way through the first few mouthfuls, forks delving into the gooey richness of the soft sponge. This is serious business and can’t be rushed.

  I wave my fork at her. ‘So, what are we going to do about all this?’ I ask, licking icing from my lips.

  For a moment I think Anna might be about to cry again, but then she raises her chin a little and a defiant look comes into her eyes. ‘Thank you for including yourself in that statement,’ she says. ‘I don’t think I can do this by myself…’

  My hand reaches across the table. ‘Listen, anyone who can bake a cake like this must have special powers,’ I say, taking another mouthful. ‘Blimey, this is good. Besides, what are friends for?’

  She smiles at the compliment but then her face falls again. ‘Except that I don’t think I’ve been much of a friend.’

  I’m rapidly learning that guilt and blame are very happy bedfellows, but there is no place for either of them at times like these. ‘You’ve had quite enough on your own plate to cope with, Anna,’ I reply. ‘And if I’d thought about it more I would have understood how this whole business with my dad put you in an awkward situation. Rob’s position in the village is unique, and he has a responsibility to everyone in it, not just his friends or neighbours. I’d underestimated the constraints that places on you both, or rather I’d ignored them. Besides, he’s your husband. It’s only right that you should want to support him.’

  Anna’s face crumples at the mention of Rob’s name. ‘That’s just it,’ she replies. ‘I’m terrified about what’s going to happen now and it’s only the beginning… The thought that he could… That other people might think…’ She breaks off and shudders. ‘I don’t know how you’ve coped with it, I really don’t. God, Thea, what am I going to do…?’

  Her words remind me of just how bad things have become. ‘And now it isn’t just Rob,’ I say, lips trembling. I take hold of both of Anna’s hands and force her to look at me. ‘This business with my dad… it’s worse than you think,’ I say quietly.

  She looks up, a single tear tracking down her face.

  ‘I still don’t really know many more details than I’ve told you before. My dad was questioned about what happened to Georgia but, because he had an alibi for the night it happened, nothing ever came of it.’ I’m still struggling to bring myself to say it. ‘Except that what’s worse is that I’ve now discovered my dad didn’t really have an alibi at all. Oh God, Anna you have to swear not to tell anyone, please, not even Rob…’ I swallow. ‘Drew’s parents said he was with them, not because he needed an alibi, but because I think they panicked. Drew swears blind it doesn’t change anything, that my dad is still innocent, but—’

  ‘Of course it does!’ Anna’s face is angry, her cheeks blazing with colour once more. ‘For you it makes all the difference…’

  She squeezes my hands and I’m relieved to see that her anger is not directed at me. Instead her watery eyes are full of compassion. ‘Oh, Thea, I’m so sorry… How do you even begin to process something like that?’

  ‘No one knows about this, only our families, and Drew…’ His name comes out more bitterly than I had intended. ‘He knew the whole time, Anna, he’s known for years. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell me, so he let us move back here… We’ve had a massive row and I don’t know how to make any of this better. Not when I can’t trust him to tell me the truth.’

  I wipe away a tear that has spilled down my cheek. ‘But I realised today that if I don’t challenge what people are saying, none of this is ever going to change. It will go on and on, just like it did for my mum and dad until they had to move. I don’t want that, Anna. I couldn’t bear it. So I thought that if I could stand up to Stacey, to let her and her gang know that they aren’t going to beat me, that it would at least be a start. But all I’ve done is manage to make things even worse.’

  I pull a face. ‘It was my own fault. I backed her into a corner and she had no way out but to retaliate, but to suggest that both our families are now locked in some sort of age-old conspiracy. It’s so ridiculous but…’

  Anna gives a weak smile. ‘Here we are…’ she says.

  And suddenly a white-hot anger burns away the last remnants of fog in my brain. ‘I’ve had enough of this,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what Stacey’s game is but I’m damn well going to find out. And in the meantime, you and I are going to finish our cake and then we’re going to think how to put an end to all the lies and bullying. It’s game over as far as I’m concerned.’ I stick my finger into the top of the sponge and transfer a blob of icing to my mouth, savouring the dissolving sweetness. ‘Is Rob at home now?’ I ask.

  She gives me a curious look. ‘No, he’s been out for most of the day. He’s gone to a meeting at the diocese; something to do with the board of education. But I’ve no idea how to tell him, Thea. He’ll be absolutely distraught.’

  ‘So then we have a little while to work out what to say. I feel so awful, Anna. If we’d never come back to Pevensey then none of this would have happened. With Tilly I mean, or Rob. The thing with my dad is different. That was just waiting in the wings ready to burst out from behind the curtain at any time, but now it’s involved you and—’

  ‘No,’ says Anna firmly. ‘You mustn’t think that. If Tilly wasn’t the one getting picked on, then some other poor child would be on the receiving end. I’m quite convinced about that. I’ve been up to the school on several occasions and I’ve seen which way the land lies. The head doesn’t believe she has a bullying problem in her school, therefore there isn’t one. This isn’t going to stop unless someone stops it.’

  I think back to the reception we received the day Lauren punched Leo. ‘Yeah, I got that impression too… So, we need to sort out how we’re going to tackle this.’

  Anna eyes the remaining cake still on her plate and picks up her fork. ‘Good,’ she says. And then her hand stills once more. ‘Except that I don’t think it’s going to be that easy. I have another problem.’

  ‘Go on,’ I say somewhat warily.

  ‘The Harvest Festival Supper, which is this weekend…’

  I’d forgotten all about it.

  ‘Jackie and Stacey are on the committee. I’ve got a horrible feeling there’s going to be more trouble.’

  Twenty-Three

  ‘That’s the third one this morning,’ wails Anna, putting down her phone. ‘And if anyone else pulls out, I’m going to scream.’

  It’s Thursday and I’m sitting in Anna’s kitchen, ostensibly helping with the arrangements for the Harvest Supper, but the way things are going it doesn’t look like there will even be one. But there has to be. I owe it to the memory of my dad, and everything he fought for in this village to make sure it happens. I can’t let him down.

  ‘And you wouldn’t believe the excuses that people have come up with, either,’ continues Anna. ‘Anyone would think people were averse to working with the daughter of a paedophile and the mother of a domestic abuse victim.’

  Her words are meant to sound light-hearted but she can’t quite pull it off. She stops for a moment to reflect on what she’s just said, mouthing sorry at me, before visibly pulling herself together. A steely gleam of determination replaces the look of misery in her eye. But we’re neither of us convinced that it’s going to be enough.

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Run it all by me one more time and let’s see what we can do.’

  But it’s hopeless, we can both see that. I stare morosely out of the window at the sheets of rain being hurled against the glass. ‘Is this going to carry on all day?’ I ask idly. ‘A ray of sunshine wouldn’t go amiss.’

  Anna looks up from the notepad on the table in front of her and follows my gaze. She looks as if she’s never seen rain before.

  ‘Damn,’ she mutters, pulling her phone towards her. ‘With everything else going on, I haven’t even given a thought to what the weather’s going to be doing. If it’s raining we won’t be able t
o have the traditional children’s procession to carry all the donations from the church to the village hall. Everything is displayed on tables during the meal and then taken to the local food banks the next day. Since Rob’s been curate here I can’t remember a year when that hasn’t happened.’ Anna checks her phone and pulls a face. ‘Tomorrow looks brighter, but there’s heavy rain forecast for the weekend, look.’ She angles the display so I can see it.

  ‘Yes, but that could all change in day or two, surely?’

  ‘Possibly, but we need to know what we’re going to do if it doesn’t. Apart from anything else we’ll have to arrange to get all the donations to the hall ourselves.’ She looks through the kitchen doorway to the hallway and the study where Rob is busy working. ‘But I don’t really want to worry Rob about this today,’ she says. ‘He’s making plans, a new project for the diocese, and I’d rather he just concentrate on that. I think it might do him more good just now.’

  Her eyes betray a feeling I recognise all too well, the peculiar pain of a hurt carried for another.

  ‘Is Rob okay?’ I ask gently.

  ‘I think so,’ she replies. ‘He’s angry mostly, which is not an emotion he often gives rein to. After all, he’s supposed to be an advocate for compassion and forgiveness, but that’s a little hard when you’re the one who needs to find it.’

  ‘I would imagine it is. He’s only human though, I hope he remembers that.’

  ‘It’s the first time his faith has been properly tested.’ She smiles a little awkwardly. ‘And even though the accusations hurt, in a rather perverse way I think he’s welcoming the challenge this is presenting him with.’

  ‘Every cloud has a silver lining…?’

  ‘Something like that.’ She grins suddenly. ‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…?’

  ‘Yes, lovely sentiments but utter rubbish.’

  She arches her eyebrows. ‘Aren’t they?’ She gives me a look that shows she understands just how I’ve been feeling. And, despite the situation we’re both in, it’s a bond between us, and I like that. She picks up her pen and draws a line under the list she’s made on her pad. ‘Right, that’s enough of that,’ she says. ‘I refuse to think about it any more today.’

  But she will, I know she will.

  I’m about to reply when a quacking duck heralds the arrival of a text message to my phone. And I can guess straight away who it’s from when I see a row of smiley face emojis.

  Bloody hell, Thea, I think we might just have sold the house!! Trying to get hold of Gerry, speak soon! R xx

  I stare at the message, stunned. I’ve been meaning to ring Rachel, but somehow, with everything going on here, I hadn’t given any more thought to their house-hunting. I’m beginning to type out a quick reply when I stop, looking back across at Anna, now doodling on her notepad. There’s a cunning plan forming at the back of my mind and, without stopping to think about it any further, I delete my message and dial Rachel’s number instead.

  * * *

  ‘You don’t believe in making life easy for yourselves, do you?’

  Rachel is standing with her hands on her hips in the village-hall kitchen staring at the table in front of her. It’s laden with produce and boxes of foodstuffs.

  It’s now late on Saturday afternoon, the day before the Harvest Festival Supper, the day we discover whether we really can do this thing or not. Without Rachel’s expertise it won’t be possible. She didn’t take much persuading to come and help us out, particularly given that she and Gerry are now officially looking for a place to live. The speed at which everything seems to be happening is making my head spin but – apart from when I relayed the catalogue of recent events to Rach – she hasn’t stopped grinning since they both arrived.

  ‘So what’s supposed to happen?’ she asks, frowning. ‘At Jamie’s school we just donate things for the Harvest Festival and they get shipped off to those in need. But, apart from a special assembly to mark the occasion, that’s about it.’

  Anna runs an anxious hand through her ponytail. ‘Well, traditionally the supper began not only to celebrate the successful harvest but also as a means of ensuring that the older people in the parish, or the weak and infirm, were provided for. Surplus produce would have also been distributed at the supper, after an evening of giving thanks, and celebrations…’ She breaks off to grin. ‘Most likely an awful lot of ale, riotous singing and bawdy games… Nowadays our donations go to the local food bank but the supper is a major fundraiser for the upkeep of the hall. The whole village is invited and most of them turn up.’

  ‘We nearly lost this place when my mum and dad lived here,’ I add. ‘Some developers wanted to flatten it and use the land for housing, but my dad got the whole village fighting against them and they managed to save it, and all the land behind. This hall really is the centre of the community.’

  ‘Ah…’ says Rachel, understanding instantly. ‘So this supper is important for all sorts of reasons.’ She gives me a tender look.

  Anna nods. ‘It’s an old building and it costs a lot to maintain but, by using donated goods, and having volunteers do all the cooking, serving, washing up, and everything else, every bit of money raised from the sale of tickets goes directly to the hall.’ She eyes the table with a disconsolate expression on her face.

  ‘And it’s that help which you don’t appear to have…’

  ‘Er, no.’ Anna pulls a face. ‘The PTA committee have made sure of that.’

  ‘Then they need a bloody kick up the arse,’ says Rachel. ‘What the hell did they think was going to happen? That their supper was just going to be magicked out of thin air?’

  Anna looks at me and grimaces. ‘I think they just decided that with everything that’s been going on, the kitchen was going to get mighty hot and they’d rather not get burnt. Several of the members have been quite, er, vocal…’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard.’ Rachel is unrepentant. ‘Cowards,’ she adds. ‘The whole lot of them.’ She scratches her head. ‘Right, well I suppose there’s no point whinging about it, is there? We’ve got a meal to pull together and I guess we’d better get our thinking caps on… How many did you say we’re catering for?’

  ‘Over a hundred…’ whispers Anna.

  Rachel’s staring at the table again, dishes from every buffet, dinner party and christening she’s ever catered for running through her head.

  ‘And is this everything?’ she asks.

  ‘Heavens no,’ answers Anna. ‘Most of it’s still at the church. But we try to use as little as possible for the meal so that the majority can go to the food bank. I know that’s not ideal, but…’

  Rachel nods. ‘No, I’ll make it work, don’t worry. It would just be helpful to have a look at what else we can use.’

  I pull a face. ‘There’s another slight problem,’ I say. ‘The procession might have to be cancelled because of the rain that’s forecast. If it is, it means we’ll also have to ferry all the donations over here ourselves. Today. There won’t be time tomorrow.’

  Anna nods. ‘Rob was just on his way around to the school when we left. If this weather doesn’t improve I can’t see how on earth we can go ahead as usual, but it will be up to him and the head to decide. Shall we go and see how he’s getting on?’

  The rain hasn’t abated one iota and we’re standing for a moment in the doorway to the village hall, contemplating a mad dash through the puddles to Anna’s car, when Drew pulls up. He gets out and runs around to open the boot.

  ‘I’ve just seen Rob on his way back from the school and it’s been decided. All the donations are going to have to be brought here before tomorrow, I’m afraid. I think Gerry is bringing his car around as well, a couple more loads each should do it. Can you give me a hand to empty the boot?’

  Between us it takes only a few minutes to bring everything inside before Drew is despatched to collect the next load. Gerry and Rob turn up moments later and before too long the kitchen is filled with even more tins, packets and jars, alongs
ide a growing pile of fresh produce.

  Rachel pounces on some parsnips and apples with undisguised glee. ‘Oh, I was hoping for some of these…’ She places them to one side and continues her inspection.

  The men disappear once more and I leave Rachel to her thoughts, joining Anna in the main hall. It’s a familiar room and hasn’t changed much since I was a child; a large oblong with windows down both sides and a polished wooden floor, which lends the room its particular smell. There’s a stage at one end, scene of countless school and amateur dramatic productions, and on either side of it are two smaller rooms with a connecting corridor behind, used as backstage areas or storerooms, depending on need. One of the rooms is full of folding tables and chairs, all of which will have to be set up before the supper tomorrow.

  I cross the room to stand beside Anna. She looks peculiarly lost. ‘Penny for them?’ I say.

  It takes a moment for her focus to include me. ‘How are we ever going to manage this?’ she asks eventually. ‘It’s not just the food, Thea, it’s all of this…’ She waves a hand at the airy space in front of us.

  ‘I’m sorry, Anna, I’m not following you. I know it seems like a tall order, but Rach is amazing. She does this for a living, don’t forget, she’ll come up with something.’

  But Anna shakes her head. ‘I wasn’t thinking of that,’ she replies. ‘You’ve been to these suppers when you were a child here, haven’t you?’

  I nod.

  ‘So, it’s a bit hard to have a party in a room which looks like this, isn’t it?’

  And I suddenly realise what she means. The room is neat and tidy, it’s actually very pleasant, but that’s where it stops. It’s certainly not festive. At all.

  ‘Ah…’ I grimace. ‘Yes, I see what you mean… So what’s happened about decorations in previous years?’ But as soon as I say it I know what the answer is. ‘Jackie and the committee…’ I say. I don’t even have to wait for Anna’s answering nod.