Regarding Simon, I made my peace with him relatively quickly. Like all siblings, we had times when we seemed to hate each other, but ultimately, we loved each other too. And it was the love that saw us through. It was harder between Alex and myself. He distanced himself for weeks afterwards, coldly retreating, angry that I’d forced him out, and in turn I was livid with him. I found it outrageous that he’d delivered me a massive shock, lied to me for God knows how long, but then selfishly attempted to put his feelings before mine.
‘I told you, Holly, that you were the only woman for me. And you were. Why couldn’t you have just left things as they were?’
I’d blasted him with both barrels.
‘Never mind your feelings!’ I’d yelled angrily, ‘how about thinking of mine for once?’
Eventually we’d had to talk. It was inevitable. I’d forced the situation whereby we were now leading separate lives and, anyway, I was desperate to move on. As time passed, I realised more and more that there had never been chemistry in our marriage, and that was nothing to do with whether Alex had been having an affair. Any woman leaving a marriage will know in her heart that, whatever the reason for the relationship breakdown, ultimately she deserves happiness. But it takes time to dissect all these feelings, and it also takes time to realise this. It came to me, a couple of months or so later, when I was staring listlessly out of the kitchen window one morning. The sun had peaked out from behind a dark cloud, lighting up the path ahead, and in that moment it dawned on me that it was time to make my own happiness.
Alex and I were no longer part of each other’s futures, but we had a daughter together, so there would always be a relationship between us, even if it had completely changed. Alex admitted he’d been seeing a counsellor about his sexuality for some time, feeling torn between being true to himself or conforming to the expectations of others. In the end, my heart went out to him, for all his years of torment. After all, he was entitled to be happy too.
The family member who was the least shocked by it all was Sophie. Our daughter was initially surprised, but unlike me, she seemed to recover within minutes.
‘So many people are coming out, Mum,’ she’d said sagely. ‘Did you know our headmistress’s partner is Mrs, Lloyd, our science teacher?’
I’d looked at Sophie as if she’d just said that Donald Trump was resigning as President in order to pursue a career in ballet dancing.
‘But Mrs Lloyd is married,’ I’d protested. ‘I’ve met her husband. He was on the tombola at the school’s summer fete.’
‘Yes, I know. But she and the Head apparently locked eyes over Mrs Lloyd’s Bunsen burners in the lab one morning, and there was no going back.’
‘Good heavens,’ I’d said faintly.
‘It’s actually quite hip to be gay,’ Sophie had assured. ‘And everyone thinks I’m the coolest girl in the school for having a gay uncle and a gay dad!’
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In the early days it had just seemed to be me who was alone and miserable. I had briefly wondered whether to get myself on some dating website in a search for the longed-for soulmate, that elusive person who would kiss me at the end of a date and make me feel like an inner part had arrived home. But only one person had ever had that effect on me, and I was suddenly very aware of him, waiting in the wings, looking on with concern, finding excuses to pop in and see how I was … whether I’d like him to walk Rupert, leaving me to howl in peace at the kitchen table or, perhaps, if I’d like to join them both? So I did. It put fresh air in my lungs and roses in my cheeks and became a regular habit. In time, we found ourselves stopping at the little café afterwards by the woods for a reviving coffee and cake, and then, when the café was shut one day due to staff sickness, Jack said we couldn’t possibly forfeit our sugar fix because we’d get terrible withdrawal. So why didn’t he take me out to dinner that evening? He knew a smashing country pub that cooked a mean steak and served a delectable cheesecake. And over the after-dinner coffees and in the flickering candlelight, I’d looked across the table and smiled shyly at him, as if seeing him for the first time. He’d taken my hand across the distressed oak and, with it, taken my heart too which, let’s face it, had been hammering away with longing every time I’d seen him.
‘Holly, I know it’s miles too soon, and that you’re still mourning your marriage, but…’ Jack hesitated, and for a moment I’d caught a glimpse of the uncertain spotty lad I’d known as a teenager, ‘would you like to do this again?’
‘Definitely,’ I’d replied, my heart leaping with joy.
That evening, he’d dropped me home, and kissed me. I’d nearly passed out. It was only the fact that Sophie was home with my mother that stopped me from dragging Jack up to the bedroom and impaling myself upon him.
But all fledgling romances have to eventually bloom, and ours was no exception. And now, eighteen months later, as I sat in Caro’s kitchen, gossiping with her and Jeanie, naturally the subject of sex was being put under the microscope by the three of us.
Jeanie, reconciled with Ray after a very turbulent few months and, aghast that I had ever suspected her of having an affair with Alex, was keen to hear all the details about my relationship with Jack. So, I told them about it. How Jack had gone on to say that he’d always loved me, from when we were little kids together, through to the teenage years, my braces, his spots, but always thought I was out of his league.
‘Aw, this is such a lovely story,’ said Jeanie, looking dreamy. ‘So why didn’t he know who you were when he nearly ran over Rupert with his car?’
‘Because,’ I said, turning a bit red, ‘he reckoned I’d turned into such a raving beauty he hadn’t recognised me, ha ha,’ I laughed, ‘as if I’m anything special!’
‘But you are beautiful,’ Caro said, ‘you mustn’t do yourself down, Holly. All those years with Alex really didn’t do your self-esteem any favours.’
‘True,’ Jeanie nodded.
And I’d continued telling the girls how Jack had been devastated when Alex had come along and claimed me. Yes, there had been other women eventually, including Annabelle, but apparently nobody had ever captured his heart the way I’d captured his. And then his mother, Aunty Shirley, had let slip that my own mother was worried about me, how unhappy I seemed, and suspected my marriage wasn’t too great these days. Apparently, Sophie had been confiding many a time to her grandma about the rows, and Jack had taken a last look at Africa and thought, ‘Perhaps it’s time to go home.’
‘I cried when he told me that,’ I said to Caro and Jeanie.
Jack had been adamant that there should be no rebound romance on my part. He’d insisted on that. So if I wanted to be a single mum putting my energies into her daughter and pooch, so be it. He said he’d waited years for me. He could wait a bit longer. And in the end, I kept him waiting for just the one year. At that point I was very aware of everybody moving on with their lives. Alex and Simon had been living together, no longer giving a stuff about the gossips. Sir Digby’s wife had walked out on him. Sir Digby had wasted no time in whisking Annabelle off to live in France. It transpired that Annabelle and Alex had been each other confidantes. Annabelle was the only person who had known Alex was gay and had known all about “Queenie” and the sexts.
Izzy and Sebastian were still together and making a go of it, although it was fair to say that Izzy and Jeanie studiously avoided each other at the school gates. Jeanie had declared the affair as the most foolish thing she’d ever done and how she’d nearly thrown away a diamond for a rock, that might have looked big and flashy but actually had lots of sharp bits.
‘So tell me, Holly,’ she said slyly, ‘do you now do it more than once a month?’
‘Oh yes,’ I purred, helping myself to one of Caro’s chocolate biscuits. ‘I can truthfully tell you that we do it every day.’
‘Every day?’ Caro squeaked. ‘Surely that’s not normal?’
‘I thought you were looking peaky,’ Jeanie said, peering at me intently. ‘Too much bed, and
not enough sleep.’
I laughed. ‘I’m sure at some point the pace will settle down, but right now it’s just lovely. It’s so wonderful to be desired and feel desirable.’
And it was. Jack had long finished writing his book and returned to work at London’s Wellington Hospital. We’d bought a house together. New home. New start. Sophie alternated between ours, and Alex and Simon’s trendy pad.
‘And how’s the burlesque dancing going?’ asked Jeanie, giving me a cheeky wink. Despite the disastrous attempt to woo Alex with my Marigolds and curtain tassels, it was something I could laugh about now. Curiosity had got the better of Jack and he’d asked why there had been a pair of bright yellow washing-up gloves on the floor of the bedroom when he’d come over to manipulate my back. When I’d told him, he’d hooted with laughter, only to then buy me a burlesque outfit off eBay which he was only too happy to see me wear on a regular basis.
‘So all’s well that ends well,’ said Caro. ‘Well I, for one, am very glad that everybody’s love lives are sorted.’
‘Just think,’ said Jeanie, looking at Caro, ‘out of all of us, you and David are the only ones who have never had a marital blip.’
Caro raised her eyebrows. ‘You think?’
‘What’s that remark meant to mean?’ I asked, suddenly very alive to my friend’s cheeks glowing as red as a setting sun.
‘Ah, that’s another story,’ said Caro. She hesitated, as if making up her mind whether to confide, then stood up abruptly and walked over to the kettle. ‘Let me make us all another coffee, and I’ll tell you all about it.’
* * *
THE END
A letter from DEBBIE VIGGIANO
I want to say a huge thank you for reading What Holly’s Husband Did. If you enjoyed it, and want to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the following link. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
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I find relationships fascinating. They can be so complicated. Every family has a skeleton in the cupboard – sometimes so many the door is positively rattling for them all to spill out. How often do we catch snippets of someone telling a friend a disastrous tale of woe? Frequently! From the two young mums blocking a supermarket aisle with their baby buggies as they put their personal worlds to right, to the women in the fitting room next to ours speaking in hushed tones about a life-changing event. It happens around us everywhere. In my days of commuting to London on a packed train, it was unavoidable overhearing someone unburdening. I would discreetly study the listener, noting her facial expression, which was as easy to read as this page… horror, outrage, shock, sympathy… but above all else relief not to be living their friend’s drama. Let’s face it, we all love a bit of gossip – just so long as we are not the subject of it, or the one having the bumpy ride! After hearing bits of other people’s lives, I was always left wondering what happened? What was that person going to do? How would they cope? What were they feeling? What direction would their life now go in? And – the really crucial part – would there be a happy ending?
What Holly’s Husband Did is set in a Kent village – my own stomping ground – and features real places, like Bluewater Shopping Mall, which Holly and her besties love to frequent (along with the author!). Holly’s dog, Rupert, is a male version of my own rescue pooch and has the same endearing charm and halitosis!
I hope you loved What Holly’s Husband Did and, if so, would be very grateful if you would write a review. I’d be thrilled to hear what you think, and it makes such a difference helping new readers discover one of my books for the first time.
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I always like hearing from my readers, so do look me up on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads or my blog or website.
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With love,
Debbie
Also by Debbie Viggiano
Stockings and Cellulite
Lipstick and Lies
Flings and Arrows
The Perfect Marriage
Secrets
The Corner Shop of Whispers
The Woman Who Knew Everything
Mixed Emotions ~ short stories
The Ex Factor (family drama)
Lily’s Pink Cloud ~ a child’s fairytale
100 ~ the Author’s experience of Chronic Myeloid Leukaemia
Acknowledgments
This is my ninth novel, but the first with the incredible Bookouture. I have dedicated What Holly’s Husband Did to the lovely Kathryn Taussig, Associate Publisher, who emailed me out of the blue just as I was galloping towards the finishing line of my last novel, The Woman Who Knew Everything. Kathryn had a proposal. Would I consider writing two romcoms for Bookouture? I nearly fainted with shock. I’d been an independent author for so long, the proposition absolutely terrified me. It’s one thing to write because you love it and have some readers who follow you, it’s quite another to sign a contract and know you have to deliver! I am deeply grateful for her believing in me, dishing out major encouragement as I furiously wrote, and hand-holding me through the edits. Likewise, I would like to thank all the authors under the wing of Bookouture for their friendship and amazing humour, Yeti Lambregts for the wonderfully fun cover design, and Kim Nash, Bookouture’s Publicity and Social Media Manager, for her tireless work and amusing stories about Roni, the Greek rescue dog. As I’m also the ‘mother’ of a Cretan rescue pup, it is nice to sometimes “talk dog” with another pooch-potty person. Finally, I want to thank you, my reader. Without you, there is no book. I very much hope you enjoy this one.
Debbie xx
Published by Bookouture
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
Carmelite House
50 Victoria Embankment
London EC4Y 0DZ
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www.bookouture.com
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Copyright © Debbie Viggiano 2018
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Debbie Viggiano has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-78681-389-3
What Holly's Husband Did Page 28
