Look to Your Wife

by Paula Byrne

  But it was not about Lee.

  Milly, Chuck’s estranged wife, had called Edward. She told him the awful news that Chuck had been diagnosed with tongue cancer. And it had metastasized. Stage Four. It was not looking good. Milly said that Chuck was in good spirits. He was at home, on indefinite leave from SJA. He had asked Milly to make the phone calls, so that he didn’t have to endure the pity. He was a proud man.

  ‘I’ve told him to stay off the Internet. He keeps googling his prognosis, and it’s making him feel worse. He’s made some Internet buddies that are going through a similar thing, but I’m not sure that’s wise.’

  ‘I bet SJA’s struggling without him – he was such a great Deputy, you know, Milly. Who’s filling in for him? Has Missy Robinson seized her moment?’

  ‘No, she left a while ago – got a deputy headship in Birmingham. I think Chuck said that the new head’s brought in someone from outside.’

  Edward told Milly about the fire and the dog. It had been ages since they had spoken. After the divorce, Lisa and Edward had inevitably kept more in contact with Chuck than Milly. He realized how much he missed her. She was so no-nonsense.

  ‘Chuck will be upset to hear about Lisa. Sounds like a lucky escape. Thank heavens you were there and got her out in the nick of time. How did it start, Ed?’

  ‘The theory at the moment is a faulty woodburner. She’s had a bad time of it, Milly. Anonymous letters, trolling blogs, then the dog, and now this.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, some nutter has been sending anonymous letters, based on things she’s said on Twitter, and then writing a phony blog pretending to be her. It’s quite unpleasant really. Really catty, bitchy stuff. Very personal.’

  ‘Heavens, how sad. You know, Ed, in my experience, people who do that sort of thing are usually not very well.’

  ‘I know, but it’s hard getting that through to her. She’s becoming paranoid. The latest is that she thinks that the fire was an arson attack. It’s nonsense, of course. But that’s the thing about these trolls, they can really get to you – especially if you’ve got a vivid imagination, like Lisa.’

  ‘Well yes, that’s one of the downsides of the Internet. People think that they can say anything. It’s that thing of not being face to face. People can be so cruel. Ordinary, reasonable people, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, become monsters.’

  ‘Anyway, Milly, this is all nothing compared with what Chuck is going through. Does he want visitors?’

  ‘God, no. He’s in complete denial. It’s one of the stages. But I’ll keep you posted, Ed.’

  *

  Lisa was upset to hear about Chuck. She felt bad that they had lost touch. He had been a loyal friend in the early days of Lisa and Edward’s courtship. He had never taken Moira’s side in the way that all of Edward’s Guildford friends had. He had always looked out for Lisa. Had always made her laugh, with his ribald jokes and teasing. Lisa had come to value honesty and plain-speaking more than ever, given the two-faced backbiting at Blagsford. Say what you like about Chuck, he always spoke his mind and told you what he thought to your face.

  Lisa had been surprised to receive Sean’s text after the fire. She had wondered if he still stalked her on Twitter, and this latest text rather suggested that he hadn’t entirely lost the habit. It was sweet of him to be concerned. She had texted back a light-hearted message saying that she was OK, and making a joke of the ‘blaize’. But there was something else that was worrying her.

  He had sent another text in which he mentioned her ‘Birthday Jumper’. He told her that he had looked at some erotic pictures in his time, but that ‘Birthday Jumper’ was the sexiest. He clearly did not realize that she had deleted the photo after ten minutes. And why was he looking at her tweets after midnight? She decided not to tell Edward about the latest text exchange.

  It was almost a year since their affair had begun, and she had moved on. You can never reheat a soufflé. It was over, and that was best for all concerned. She was putting Sean on the backburner. Not that he would ever harm her. Not a hair on her head. He was just making sure that she was happy. Poor old Chuck, though. She ought to make contact with him. Why do bad things happen to good people?

  *

  On the anniversary of the day when she had bumped into Sean in the Coffee Bean and signed up for Twitter, she decided to take Emma on a mum and daughter trip to Stratford-upon-Avon. It would take her mind off her ‘flinglet’, as she was now trying to call it, in order to remind herself that it had never really got off the ground.

  She had heard that there was a fantastic evening Christmas market on the streets, and that the Christmas lights were beautiful.

  It was cold. Lisa dressed herself in black jeans, and a warm black Helmut Lang jersey, and boots. Emma, who was going through a phase of wanting to look like Mummy, put on black leggings, a black polo neck, and a black coat. Her light brown hair was like a halo around her sweet face. On the drive there, they chatted about Christmas, and school, and friends. Lisa switched on Classic FM, so they could sing along with the Christmas carols.

  The market was great. There was a stall selling the most beautiful German tree decorations. Lisa, always extravagant, bought lots. She loved Christmas, and they always had five trees in the house – one in the hallway, one in the dining room for Christmas dinner, one in the drawing room with the presents under it, and a little one in each of the children’s bedrooms. Two of the decorations had ‘Emma’ and ‘George’ carved on them. Perfect. They bought churros to dip in hot chocolate, and listened to the carol singers. Then she stopped still. The carol singers came from a Downs’ Syndrome organization, raising money for the families. The children were dressed in scarves, and woolly hats, singing their hearts out. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Her eyes filled with hot tears. Her aunt had Downs. Lisa had spent a lot of time with her, growing up, and she adored her, like everyone else in her family. Her aunt had not spent one day in care, ever. The family had looked after her like a queen, even after her mother and father had died. Lisa could not drag herself away. ‘Look, Em,’ she whispered, ‘isn’t that the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever heard?’

  But Emma wasn’t there. Lisa looked around to see what stall her daughter was looking at. She couldn’t see her. Don’t panic. It’s OK, she will be here somewhere. It’s Christmas time, the safest time to bring children out at night. She called her name, and then called again. Nothing. Lisa started to shout for her daughter. People were staring at her.

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t see my daughter. She was here just a second ago.’

  Lisa’s vision was blurred. It was as if time was standing still. She walked quickly down Bridge Street, and onto the main promenade. Maybe Emma had wandered down towards the huge Christmas tree in the Memorial Garden. Lisa broke into a run. As she approached the bridge over the Avon, she scoured around. Fuck, why was Emma wearing black? Why had she let her wear black? She saw what looked like a halo of bright brown hair. She approached the bridge and then couldn’t believe her eyes; hundreds of boy scouts streamed across the bridge in her direction. She couldn’t move. It was like being in a horror movie. No, this could not be happening. Hurry up, hurry up. Now she was screaming, and a man approached her.

  ‘I’ve lost my daughter. Please help me. She’s only nine. She was holding my hand, and then I stopped to watch the singers, and she was gone.’

  ‘God! Tell me what she’s wearing? What does she look like?’

  ‘Like me. She’s dressed exactly like me.’

  Lots of people were trying to help. Someone called the police. Lisa was crying now. ‘Help me. Help me. She takes medication. I need to find her. Has someone taken her?’

  Lisa thought her heart would burst in her chest. Someone’s got her. Emma would never disappear like that. She’s too sensible. She needed to call Edward, but she couldn’t find her phone in her bag. It must have slipped out in the car.

  By now, Lisa was almost at the car park on th
e recreation ground on the far side of the river. She needed to find her phone. She ran and ran, where had she parked? Every car looked the same. Then she saw her shocking pink Fiat 500. But where were her car keys? Who cares? She never locked the doors to her car.

  Then she saw. Emma. She was sitting in the front seat, shivering.

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, I lost you, so I came back to the car. Why are you crying?’

  Lisa grabbed her and pulled her close: ‘God, I thought I’d lost you. Good girl, good girl. You did the right thing. Come with me, Em.’

  She ran back to the nice man who had looked so concerned.

  ‘I’ve found her. She made her way back to the car. Thank you for helping me.’

  ‘No problem. She does look just like you. Happy Christmas.’

  CHAPTER 36

  ‘What You Know, You Know’

  Lisa was glad that she could tell Edward after the event, in the knowledge that there was a happy ending. Thank God she had left her phone in the car and not rung him in a panic. He looked horrified when she told him, particularly when she described that terrible moment when the boy scouts filled the bridge, blocking her way.

  Emma couldn’t see what the fuss was about.

  ‘Stop kissing me, Mummy. I’m fine. I’m here.’

  After the children were tucked into bed, Edward poured Lisa a glass of cold Chardonnay. They sat by the fire. Neither spoke. Kind, kind eyes, Lisa thought. Never a word of reproach nor criticism.

  ‘Edward, for just one minute I thought …’

  ‘Don’t say it. It’s OK, it’s all over.’

  ‘It was the very worst thing that has ever happened to me in my life. I now know the true meaning of fear.’

  But she felt calm. The first time she had felt at peace since the move to Blagsford. So much had happened since the day that the letter had dropped through the door. But she had survived. They had survived. Her family. Her love.

  Now all that mattered was giving the children a Christmas to remember.

  *

  There was another surprise to come. This time for Edward. Lisa had arranged, secretly, for Edward’s mother to come to Blagsford for Christmas. She knew that she was taking a risk, and that he might be furious with her. Edward wasn’t close to his mother. And he hated surprises. He liked always being in control. But she had done it. It had been a while since the children had spent time with their grandmother.

  But Edward was always capable of surprising her. When Shirley walked through the door, he let out a gasp and pulled her into his arms. The children, who were in on the secret, giggled, whilst waiting expectantly for GramMa’s presents.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Edward,’ said Lisa. She was thrilled to see mother and son together. They were so physically alike. He turned to his wife, his eyes watery, one arm around his mother’s wide shoulders.

  ‘You’re so kind, Lisa. Thank you. Thank you. Sometimes a boy needs his ma.’

  Shirley laughed, exactly Edward’s laugh, hearty and deep. Then she reached out for the children and held them close. Lisa looked on, and felt a rush of contentment. Family. It was all about family. She would never risk breaking this again. If the golden bowl was a little cracked and tarnished, it could be mended and made stronger.

  *

  All through the festivities, GramMa held the children spellbound with stories of Edward’s childhood and how he was transformed by his scholarship to the great school. The memories came back to him, and made him determined to deliver on his plan of giving inner-city kids the chance of a Blagsford education.

  On New Year’s Day, Edward drove his mother to the station in Blagsford. When he got home, he told Lisa that he was signing up for Facebook.

  ‘Really? I thought you were always telling your boys to get off Facebook.’

  ‘It’s because of Ma – she says that all the extended family Facebook each other. It’ll be my way of keeping in touch with my roots.’

  When he came to bed that night, he told Lisa that, on setting up his account, he’d not been able to resist seeing if his ex-wife Moira was on Facebook.

  ‘I found her so easily – she seems really happy. She’s married her new partner, and they’ve adopted a little Chinese girl.’

  Chuck had not been so lucky. Two days after Christmas, Milly phoned to tell them the news. Chuck had clung on so that they had one last Christmas together. He had died at four a.m. on Boxing Day morning. It was so desperately sad. Milly was being very strong.

  She asked them to the funeral. Would Edward do a reading, as he was such a close friend? They had separated, but Milly was doing everything that a bereaved wife would do. She was magnificent. She told them that Chuck had accepted death with great fortitude and good humour. He was a brave soldier, she said. Never complained. Just got on with it. Milly talked too about her lost baby. It had broken them. Chuck had never been the same. It had changed him irrevocably. In her own way, Milly was asking their forgiveness for Chuck having stopped sending Christmas and birthday presents to his godson George. He had made such a good start in performing that duty, but after just two years, he couldn’t bear to see the Chamberlains with their children. It was easier to stop sending presents and cards.

  Edward prepared a beautiful reading for the funeral. Shakespeare: ‘Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers come to dust.’ Lisa was in tears. She was so moved to see how many people had turned up to pay their respects. Chuck was so popular. His many acts of kindness were shared, his naughty sense of humour, his grief over his son, his sorrow at being too ill to attend the investiture for the MBE that his estranged but still beloved wife Emilia had won for her charity work as chief executive of the Warrington Women’s Refuge, awarded in the Birthday Honours list the previous summer.

  Edward whispered to Lisa at this point in the eulogy: ‘I had no idea Milly was in the same Honours List as me – to be honest, I never looked as far down as the MBEs.’

  It was so strange being back with the SJA crowd. Lisa felt like a completely different person. Everyone was so friendly. Happy to see them. Asking after the children. Congratulating Edward on his knighthood. Lisa spent most of the time with Jan. She had missed her old friend. She apologized to Jan for her neglect.

  ‘The problem is you don’t go on Twitter, Jan. That’s all I have time for with two kids.’

  ‘And you’re hopeless on email. And you’re always losing your phones and changing your number. We could do old-fashioned letters on snail mail.’

  Even Missy, who had come back from Birmingham, was polite. Now that she had her promotion, she seemed more secure, less frosty. To Lisa’s surprise, Missy asked to see pictures of the children on her phone, and seemed genuinely interested in their welfare.

  Lisa barely had time to catch up with Milly. But as they were leaving, she made sure she said a few words and gave her a hug.

  ‘Lisa, thank you for coming. Chuck often talked about you in his final months. And wait, I’ve got something for you. He gave me this envelope before he died. I have no idea what it is, but he insisted that I give it to you.’

  Lisa took the brown envelope. She opened it in the car. There was nothing in it but a sheet of A4 with a colour printout of a photograph.

  *

  So it had been Chuck. He had stalked her on Twitter, written those vile letters, posted those nasty blogs. He might even have been @charlieboy, too. He had wanted to drive a wedge between Lisa and Edward for reasons of his own, reasons which would never be fully explained.

  ‘From this time forth he never will speak word,’ said Edward, remembering Othello. Then he added: ‘“Haply for I am black.” You can take the boy out of South Carolina, but you can’t take South Carolina out of the boy.’

  Lisa’s mouth dropped open. ‘Chuck never said anything racist.’

  ‘Not to our face. But not everyone’s as colour-blind as you, my darling.’

  *

  Chuck had downloaded Birthday Jumper and printed it out. But none of those other incidents – Qu
eenie, the shed, Emma – were anything to do with him. By then, he was ill, and the letters and blogs had stopped coming. The disasters were just coincidences, the kind of bad things that happen to us all at some time in our lives. It all made sense, but it was so sad.

  They were silent for most of the journey south, in shock. It was dark and very cold by the time they got home. Lisa went straight to the children’s bedrooms, kissed their sleeping foreheads, and tucked them tightly under their duvets.

  She went downstairs. Edward had a glass of wine waiting ready for her. They talked, deep into the night.

  ‘Edward, it’s the banality of it all. That’s what’s so depressing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He had no reason to do it.’

  ‘Hang on a minute, now you think about it, there could be many reasons. I got the headship at SJA when he didn’t. And he only found that out in the newspaper – the bloody governors didn’t have the courtesy to tell him. Then, for all we know, he might have got the idea that I wrote a lukewarm reference for him when he tried for the post a second time after I left.’

  ‘Come on, that’s no reason to get at me.’

  ‘His marriage broke up and ours survived. He lost his child and ours survived. It’s all making sense. And I did always wonder whether he fancied you. He was always staring at you.’

  ‘That might be because he hated me.’

  ‘Or me. God, I’ve just remembered something. I forgot to thank him in my leaving speech.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Banality, as you say – maybe that one little thing tipped him over the edge.’

  ‘Such a tiny thing. To go to such spite after all that kindness – you know, that time when Em was in hospital.’

  ‘Then me getting the knighthood and Milly just a lousy MBE. That was the last straw. I did wonder why he never wrote to congratulate me. And he knew he was ill by then. He had nothing to lose, and the chemo was probably frying his brain.’