What Holly's Husband Did

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Jack?’ I repeated, startled.

  ‘Yes. I reckon if he’s plied with enough wine and gets to hear what wonderful massages I give, I could persuade him to turn.’

  ‘Actually, that’s not a bad idea,’ I said, considering.

  ‘What, that I get him to turn?’

  ‘No,’ I tutted, ‘that I invite him. Alex was moaning about having nothing in common with Caro’s and Jeanie’s husbands, but he has loads in common with Jack. They’ve both studied medicine and have an interest in trigeminal neuralgia.’

  ‘Oooh, lovely, I’ve got a date!’ Simon fluttered his eyelashes with delight. ‘He’s so handsome, don’t you think?’

  ‘He’s okay,’ I shrugged nonchalantly, ‘if you like that sort of thing.’

  ‘Oh I do, I do, I do,’ Simon clutched his heart theatrically.

  I had trouble not clutching mine too.

  31

  Dinner parties are not really my thing. It’s one thing to cook your family a basic meal ‘from scratch’ every evening, but I was no Jamie or Delia. My cooking was of the straightforward fare. Plenty of roast dinners mixing-up the meats, a hearty Shepherd’s Pie, the occasional steak with side salad or, on a night when the winter winds were howling around the rafters of the house and the temperature dropped to zero, comfort was to be found in bangers and buttery mash with chopped red cabbage in a flavoursome red wine jus. Much as I would have liked to spend ages titivating with a Hollandaise sauce to accompany a baked salmon, I didn’t want to be fretting about stinking the house out with the smell of fish, or getting into a panic about the sauce splitting and fats congealing. I settled on a simple slow-cooker version of coq au vin accompanied by a crème fraîche mash, with melon balls and homemade mint ice-cream for dessert.

  On the Friday night I prepped everything, left the coq au vin in the fridge overnight and popped a tub full of newly made mint ice-cream into the freezer. Easy peasy. A part of me was very aware that Jack would be sitting around my dining table and I wanted to impress him, to come across as a hostess who wasn’t tied to the kitchen labouring over steaming pots and pans thus leaving her guests to make small talk amongst themselves, but instead got stuck into the conversational thick of it. Therefore, I chose to opt out of messing about with starters and instead to conclude with a large platter of cheese and biscuits with coffee and brandy.

  Sophie was still Tabitha’s new girl crush, and was having a sleepover on Saturday night, which was something of a relief. Izzy had already been on the phone gushing about Sophie being a charming influence on Tabitha, so at least I wouldn’t have a bored daughter to worry about and, if things got a bit boozy and raucous, nobody would be disturbing my teenager’s zen or, as Alex preferred to call it, bloody mindedness.

  On the day of the dinner party, I took a great deal of care with my appearance prior to our guests’ arrival. I hoped Alex would look at me with eyes that lit up like a Christmas tree’s fairy lights. I might not have Jeanie’s gargantuan chest, but equally my breasts could in no way be likened to two fried eggs on an ironing board. As I stood back from the full-length mirror to assess the ‘overall effect’, I sternly addressed my reflection.

  ‘You are a fine-looking woman, Holly Hart. Tonight, you are going to wow everyone with good food, good wine and your good looks. Know it. Believe it. Be it.’ It was all very well making affirmations, but sometimes a prayer helped. ‘Please God,’ I added.

  I had let Sophie do my eyeshadow before she left. A pair of seductive smoky eyes stared back at me, and my lips were slicked with a light plum colour filched from my daughter. She’d insisted on doing my eyebrows, properly this time.

  ‘Just remember not to rub them, Mum,’ she’d warned.

  Yes, I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. I was just slipping my feet into some killer heels, when Alex came into the bedroom. He looked very handsome in navy chinos and a soft-grey wool sweater, and I told him so. He didn’t return the compliment though, which was disappointing.

  ‘Are you coming downstairs?’ he asked, ‘only I heard a car pulling up outside and think it might be your friend Jeanie.’

  ‘Your friend too, darling,’ I reminded him.

  My husband pulled a face. ‘I’d rather you greet her.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked, slightly irritated. Was this some sort of admission of guilt? Not wanting to be around her, wishing to avoid being the first one to kiss her on both cheeks?

  ‘I don’t feel comfortable with Jeanie. She’s very loud. Not my type at all.’

  ‘Is that so?’ I muttered under my breath. I didn’t believe him for one moment. He was clearly trying to set up a smokescreen.

  Alex narrowed his eyes at me. ‘What did you just mumble?’

  ‘Nothing,’ I said brightly, as the doorbell rang. ‘I’m sure you’ll have a cracking time once you get a glass of wine in you.’

  ‘I’ll need a crate to get through this evening.’

  I ignored the comment. The last thing I wanted was a fast and furious row prior to greeting our guests. As Alex followed me out of the bedroom, I was aware of him pouting like a child who had been spruced up for a reluctant visit to disliked relatives, and he showed his displeasure by stomping down the stairs after me.

  ‘Jeanie!’ I cried, opening the door to my friend. I was immediately knocked back by her enormous breasts, which were trussed up like a pair of turkeys, and positively straining for space in her off-the-shoulder low-cut dress. Ray followed his wife in.

  ‘How lovely to see you both,’ said Alex politely.

  My head swivelled round. Was he talking to Jeanie and Ray, or just Jeanie’s breasts? But my attention was immediately diverted by Caro and David tripping into the hallway.

  ‘We came together,’ Caro explained.

  ‘Always the most satisfactory way!’ trilled a camp voice. Simon was coming up the garden path, staggering slightly, a crate of perfectly chilled champagne in his strong arms. ‘Hello, dah-lings,’ he chirped to everyone in general. ‘I know my company is sparkling enough, but you can never have enough Bolly!’ He dumped the crate on the hall’s console table, before air-kissing my cheeks. ‘Sweetie, those smoky eyes are fab-ulous, and your eyebrows look awesome. Just like that rogue hair sprouting out of your chin.’ I was about to answer back, but my brother was already moving on to my girlfriends. ‘Jeanie, angel! Mwah-mwah! And Caro, helloooo! Such beautiful ladies, I almost wish I wasn’t gay,’ he batted his eyelids at them, ‘but sadly I am, so please introduce me to your handsome hubbies.’

  And my brother was off, hustling everybody down the hall and into the lounge, taking over Alex’s role of host and leaving my husband looking pricklier than a ruffled hedgehog.

  ‘Why on earth did you invite him, Holly?’ he seethed.

  ‘He’s lonely!’ I hissed. ‘He’s broken up with his boyfriend. Have some compassion, eh? Anyway, Jack will be along shortly. He’ll dilute Simon’s brashness, plus you’ll have somebody to talk to about… stuff.’

  ‘Stuff?’ Alex glared at me. ‘I graduated from university with a degree in stuff?’

  ‘Oh for God’s sake, Alex,’ I huffed, ‘stop bellyaching, and start circulating.’

  What a fine start we were off to. It was about time Alex started appreciating me and my good-wife efforts. Anger was flushing my face to an unattractive brick-red as I watched him march off to the lounge. The doorbell rang again. Knowing it would be Jack, I took a deep breath, pasted a welcoming smile on my face and released the door’s catch.

  ‘Hey!’ he smiled.

  ‘Hi!’ I gushed, steadying myself against the door frame as he crossed the threshold. My nose twitched appreciatively as a whiff of expensive aftershave drifted past. Mm, heaven.

  I shut the door and, as I turned to face him, he embraced me warmly, his lips brushing my cheek, sending my senses reeling.

  ‘Love your perfume,’ he murmured.

  ‘And I love yours,’ I whispered back. Steady, Holly. You’re meant to be in the lounge monitoring you
r husband and Jeanie, not loitering in the hallway feeling overcome with lust for Jack.

  He released me and slipped off his coat. ‘Shall I hang it over the bannister?’ he asked, nodding at the small pile of jackets and blazers that everybody had slung over the finial, ignoring Alex’s offer to hang them in the coat cupboard under the stairs.

  ‘Sure,’ I nodded.

  ‘By the way, you look beautiful,’ he said, giving me a mega-watt smile that almost finished me off there and then.

  ‘So do you,’ I gasped foolishly. Dear God. Get me into the lounge and into the throng. There was safety in numbers. And have a drink. Now!

  I scuttled off, like a terrified mouse with a sleek cat shadowing it. Everybody was getting well and truly stuck into the champers, laughing and joking. Even Alex, I noticed, and was relieved to see it was Caro he was bantering with, and not Jeanie. Or was that another smokescreen on his part?

  ‘Jack, dah-ling!’ called Simon, coming towards us, but bypassing me and smacking his lips against both of Jack’s cheeks. ‘How wonderful to see you again, sweets. You’ll be thrilled to know you’re my plus-one. Who’s a lucky boy?’

  Jack roared with laughter and clapped Simon on the back. ‘Good to see you, matey, and I’m thrilled to sit next to you at dinner later.’

  ‘Oooh, as charming as ever,’ Simon affected a swoon. ‘I might have to marry you. Let me get you a drinky-poo. Champagne all right?’

  ‘Definitely,’ said Jack appreciatively.

  ‘It’s my aim to get you seriously tiddly,’ said Simon, as he handed Jack a flute of pale bubbles, ‘and seduce you with my charm.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Jack gamely, playing along, ‘it’s a good thing I’m taking a taxi back and not driving.’

  ‘We came by taxi too,’ said Jeanie, edging her way into the conversation, her eyes roving over Jack and evidently liking what she saw. ‘I told Ray earlier that tonight I’m getting seriously sloshed. Fill me up, Simon,’ she held out her empty glass.

  ‘Alas, dah-ling, I can only give you champagne,’ said my brother, ‘because I’m saving myself later for Jack.’

  I caught Alex’s eye and noticed his mouth tighten with irritation. Why couldn’t he join in with the jokey atmosphere? Nobody else minded Simon’s outrageous humour. In fact, Jeanie was positively encouraging, shrieking with laughter and wobbling her breasts at Simon, teasing that he didn’t know what he was missing, and that someone not a million miles away liked nothing more than oiling her assets.

  ‘Ooooh, a butter mountain!’ Simon quipped. ‘Stop tempting me, you naughty girl, or I’ll leave here all confused. Holly, stop behaving like a wallflower at your own party. Get this down you, and then I’m opening another bottle.’

  I took the champagne from my brother and gulped gratefully. If everybody was taking a cab home, it could mean only one thing; they were intent on having a jolly good time. As the bubbles invaded my bloodstream, I felt momentarily light-headed. Even though this was meant to be a bonding get-together in preparation for Alex’s party, I mustn’t forget there was now a second objective tonight, which was watching Jeanie watching Alex watching Jeanie. I nodded to myself and hoovered up some more champers, deciding there and then to keep up with everybody’s alcohol intake. Thank goodness I’d had the nous to prepare dinner the night before.

  ‘Something smells delicious,’ said Jack, sniffing the air appreciatively.

  ‘Do tell everyone, sissy-poo, what have you cooked?’ asked Simon.

  ‘Coq au vin,’ I replied, throwing the rest of the champagne down my neck and holding my glass out for a refill.

  ‘Fab-ulous, dah-ling,’ said Simon, handing me a refreshed crystal flute, ‘I adore a bit of coq.’

  Jeanie giggled into her champagne, then gave me a brazen look. ‘Don’t we all,’ she said with a smirk.

  32

  Nobody seemed in any rush to sit down for dinner. The drink continued to flow – on empty stomachs – and it was only when the seventh bottle clanked its way into the recycling bin that I realised everybody was catastrophically pissed.

  I staggered off to the kitchen, switched off the slow-cooker, microwaved last night’s pre-made mash and yodelled for everybody to sit up.

  ‘Tits up?’ drawled my brother, swaying into the kitchen.

  ‘Shit up,’ I slurred.

  ‘Dah-ling, are you telling me to sit up or shut up?’

  ‘Both,’ I nodded. ‘Not in here!’ I squawked, as Simon pulled out a tall stool by the kitchen island. ‘In the dining room. The table is all laid. It looks beautiful. Best china. Silver cutlery. Flickering candlelight.’

  ‘How romantic. I’ll be able to gaze at Jack adoringly, and hopefully his pupils will dilate with lust.’

  ‘Can you direct everyone into the dining room and tell Alex to come and help me?’ I hiccupped, holding onto the worktop for a moment while the kitchen briefly spun. It was imperative to get food into tummies and alcohol mopped up as soon as possible.

  Simon minced off to do my bidding. When the kitchen door opened a second time, it wasn’t my husband who came in, but Jack. As he came towards me I grabbed the worktop again, but this time to steady myself against the effect his proximity was having on me.

  ‘Can I give you a hand, Holly?’

  ‘That’s very kind, but Alex will help me.’

  Jack frowned. ‘I don’t think so. He’s in deep conversation with Jeanie.’

  At the mention of both my friend and husband having their heads together, I blanched.

  ‘What are they talking about?’ I whispered, face paling.

  ‘Divorce, I think.’

  ‘What?’ I squeaked, spreading my hands along the worktop again. In the last two minutes it had received quite a lot of fondling.

  ‘Shall we?’

  I stared at him blankly. ‘Shall we what?’

  ‘Serve dinner?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said faintly. Oh my God. The treacherous pair had waited for me to take my leave to the kitchen, then gone into a huddle, clearly discussing how to end their respective marriages. This wasn’t good. Not good at all.

  ‘Are you all right, Holly?’ Jack touched my forearm, and the heat of his hand instantly had me sagging against the cupboards. Dear Lord. Why did this man have such an effect on me? It wasn’t right, this conflict of emotions. I shouldn’t be reacting with electric jolts every time I clapped eyes on Jack, when all I really wanted was to save my marriage. Was this how it was between Jeanie and Alex? That they just couldn’t help themselves because of some invisible current scorching between them, so that any moment now they might both self-combust with desire in my dining room?

  ‘Here,’ Jack ordered, ‘drink.’

  ‘I’ve had enough.’

  ‘It’s water.’ He led me over to one of the tall stools by the island, then helped me perch aloft, pressing the dripping glass into my hand. ‘Come on, get that down you, then you’ll feel better. Leave the dishing up to me.’

  ‘No!’ I protested, as the room rolled again.

  ‘I’ll get your brother to help me,’ Jack said.

  ‘He’ll like that,’ I acknowledged, as Jack strode out of the kitchen. I watched him go, slowly laying my head down upon the cool granite. What a great walk Jack had. It was so… I boggled at a vase of flowers inches from my nose… what was the word? Masterful, that was it! I squirmed deliciously at the thought of Jack being masterful with me. Sit down, Holly, drink this water now, and then I’m going to put you over my knee and give you a good spanking for not serving up the dinner. My eyes widened at the vase of flowers. Oh my God, was I kinky? I tried to imagine Alex ordering me about in the bedroom. Come here, Holly. I want to tie you up with yards and yards of dental floss… oh wonderful… now I can read my dental mags in peace. Nope, Alex was definitely not having the same effect on me. My mind skittered back to Jack, and warm tingles instantly zinged up and down my spine. I closed my eyes in ecstasy as my mind conjured up various pornographic scenarios of Jack bossing me abo
ut. I was breathing heavily now, my upper lip beading with a fine dew of sweat as yet another outrageous situation played in full technicolour behind my shut eyelids. Come here, Holly, you’ve kept all your guests waiting. Bend over this stool and let me thrash your bare bottom with this oven mitt. I gasped aloud.

  ‘Is that all right?’

  ‘Try it with rubber gloves,’ I whispered.

  ‘Holly? Holly!’

  My eyes snapped open and Jack swam into my vision. I sat up, a fine thread of saliva attached from my mouth to the worktop, like a silvery line from a spider’s web. I’d been dribbling. How embarrassing. I swiped a hand across my mouth.

  ‘Come on,’ he grinned. ‘Simon and I have dished up, and everybody is tucking in. Won’t you come and join us?’

  ‘Most definitely,’ I said, jumping off the stool and rocking slightly on my stilettos. I’d just remembered that I had a bone to pick, and it wasn’t with the coq au vin.

  33

  When I swayed into the dining room, I realised almost immediately that if I wanted to pick a bone with Jeanie and Alex I would also have to pick my moment to pick that bone. Everybody seemed to be talking at once, and because everyone was drunk there was a tendency to both enunciate and shout to fend off slurring.

  Simon was sitting next to Jack, and I was immensely grateful to them both for serving up the dinner. The room looked beautifully ambient with enormous church-style candles flickering away, their flames casting soft shadows around the table. I noticed Caro was sitting next to her husband David, but Jeanie had abandoned Ray and instead was sitting next to Alex. Ray was by himself at the head of the table, leaving me to sit opposite him at the other end. To my right was Jack and to my left was Jeanie.

  ‘Holly, dah-ling!’ Simon’s voice rose over the clamouring, and he tapped his fork against his wine glass making a loud dinging noise that went right through my head. ‘Everybody, raise your glass to the cook. You’ve excelled yourself, Holly, with this casserole.’