The Accidental Wife

by Rowan Coleman

  ‘Hmm,’ Kirsty said, scrutinising Alison for a moment. ‘Well, if it wasn’t for the fact that my gorgeous and incredibly well-hung boyfriend wants to take me home I’d come with you, but as it is, I’d much rather be snogging him than listening to Jimmy go on about how rubbish he is. Will you be OK if we shoot off?’

  Alison looked over at where Jimmy was sitting, waggling both his empty glass and eyebrows at her in a decidedly come-hither way.

  ‘Yes,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Kirsty asked. ‘You could come with us now; we’ll walk you home.’

  ‘No, you go,’ Alison said. ‘I can handle him. I can do this for Catherine. After all, I’m a grown-up now.’

  Catherine looked at the TV screen and sipped her wine. Sometimes she wished that things hadn’t been left so awkwardly between her and Jimmy. Then at least she could give him a call and find out how he was doing; ask him if he’d found a place to stay, got anyone to give him some food, that sort of thing.

  Then she kicked herself hard.

  He was a grown man, he could cope in the world on his own without her to worry about him. In fact, the very last thing he’d want would be her worrying about him. The trouble was, over the last twelve years she’d got into the habit of caring about him. It would be a hard habit to get out of. It unsettled her that he hadn’t phoned to say good night to the girls, something he always did when he was away. It was probably nothing to worry about. Either he was working in some studio and couldn’t get out in time to phone or … well, there was always the possibility that he was dead in an alleyway somewhere because there were very few things that would keep him from saying good night to his daughters and death was one of them. Catherine was determined not to worry about that, however. She was determined not to think about Jimmy, full stop. The only trouble was the more she thought about ways to not think about him the more she thought about him. Turning her brain off was much harder than she thought it should be.

  Eloise had been right, even if she hadn’t known it. Going out today, buying eyeliner and magazines of all things – Catherine supposed she was trying to transform herself into the kind of woman that might attract a very tall man who liked redheads. She had been trying to find her feet again and part of that balancing act was feeling good about herself, feeling sexy and even sexual. For two years she’d shut that part of herself away as she’d concentrated on healing herself and keeping her children happy. It had got almost to the point where she didn’t think she cared if she never had sex again. Then Marc walked back into her life and nearly kissed her and that part of her hadn’t slowly roused so much as rudely awakened. Eyeliner was Catherine’s body’s way of saying she was ready for a man in her life again. But even if her body was, she wasn’t sure if she was.

  She and Jimmy had taken a long time to get to know each other’s body. They had taken it very slowly, inch by inch over several weeks before they finally went to bed, and then, even though it was still awkward and embarrassing, it didn’t matter because they were already so close, and so bonded. With him Catherine hadn’t felt self-conscious about her long white body, and boyish figure. With him she’d felt womanly, she’d felt beautiful. It had hurt her so badly when she discovered that she was not enough for Jimmy; it had hurt her even though she had no right to feel that way. How long could she have realistically expected him to go on running on empty in their marriage? Why had she felt it was OK for her to allow him to live that way? The anguish of finding him with another woman had ripped her to shreds, even if she knew that she had been just as responsible as Jimmy was, for driving him into Donna Clarke’s arms. Jimmy had done what he wanted to with Donna Clarke, but Catherine had made him want it.

  The relief she felt now was that the pain of that discovery had ebbed away to nothing at last. That finally after two years she could look him in the eye and smile and be close to him again, because that sense of completeness she had known when she was with him had been hard to live without … Catherine metaphorically kicked herself again, only harder this time.

  These warm feelings and thoughts she was having about Jimmy weren’t real. They were a confused muddle caused by simply caring about him as a friend, and the fear of being without him, of having to stand on her own two feet like she claimed she wanted but was really terrified of doing. They were feelings that she had to get over, feelings that were simply a reaction to truly being without him for the first time, like when you take off a warm coat and you feel the chill of the winter. She had to keep reminding herself that these feelings weren’t real, that they were just illusions, mirages that would fade soon enough, because it would be so wrong not to let someone go just because you felt half naked without them. And she had to let Jimmy go now because, despite everything she had said to him before he left for London, Catherine knew their marriage had failed because she couldn’t love him enough. To bring him back to her side now with more false hope and half-baked promises would be too cruel. It was so much less than he deserved.

  Catherine kicked herself really hard again and then gave herself a metaphorical slap for good measure. The reason she was thinking about Jimmy so much wasn’t because she loved him, it was because she didn’t love him. Her brain knew that, but her heart hadn’t quite been able to believe it yet.

  Just then there was a knock at the front door. Catherine looked at her watch. It was late. Gone ten. It had to be Jimmy. He was the only one who would show up at this hour and he hadn’t called because he was on his way back from London. He probably hadn’t come to the back door because, after the way they’d parted, he felt that formal was the way to go.

  It was only when Catherine reached the front door that she realised she’d run to answer it. But that was OK. It was OK to be pleased to see him so long as she didn’t give him any kind of false hope because that simply wouldn’t be fair. She took a breath and composed her smile before she opened the door.

  But it wasn’t Jimmy at the door.

  ‘Marc,’ Catherine said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wasn’t in the neighbourhood,’ Marc said, holding up a bottle of wine, ‘so I thought I’d make quite a long detour and drop by.’

  ‘I’m supposed to be out,’ Catherine said. ‘With your wife.’

  ‘Really?’ Marc said, his smile faltering fractionally. ‘She didn’t tell me. She’s avoiding me at the moment. We’re avoiding each other. It’s awkward, the end of a relationship when one of you hasn’t exactly left yet and neither of you especially hates the other one. It’s like sharing a house with someone you don’t know very well. She’s trying to be kind to me even though I don’t deserve it. We haven’t told the girls yet. We were supposed to do it today but they were so happy this morning, getting ready for school. It just goes to show what our marriage had come to. Their parents are barely speaking and they don’t notice the difference.’

  ‘They notice,’ Catherine assured him. ‘They always notice.’

  She looked at Marc standing on the doorstep in his coat, clutching a bottle of wine, for a second longer. Asking him in had implications. But Catherine didn’t have a choice. She had to ask him in.

  She had to know.

  ‘It’s like a film,’ Jimmy said, downing his third Jack Daniel’s and Coke since Alison had sat down with him. ‘A bad film. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy ends up in Croatia. Where’s the happy ending, hey? My film’s going to be a flop at the box office. Story of my life really.’

  ‘There’s always a happy ending,’ Alison tried to reassure him. ‘It just might not be the one you expected.’

  Jimmy looked up at her again, making her tummy do a backflip. She wished he would stop doing that. One minute he’d be all maudlin and pathetic, still cute, but quite easy to cope with, and then she’d say or do something and he’d get this look in his eyes, like she imagined a particularly disillusioned wolf might have when it was sizing up a nice lamb because steak was off the menu. And when he looked at her that way she got the distinct impression
that this evening could go a whole different way if only she would let it.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said, leaning forward a little bit, looking at her as if he were preparing for a bite. ‘Maybe I’m not in love with her at all and what I need is for someone to show me.’

  ‘Actually, I think you are in love with her,’ Alison squeaked nervously as Jimmy focused his attention fully on her, placing one hand on her knee. ‘I think you’re crazy about her.’

  ‘I like you,’ Jimmy said, patting her knee. ‘You’ve got pretty hair and a very nice cleavage in that top.’

  For one or two simultaneously mortifying and electrifying moments Alison endured Jimmy staring at her breasts.

  ‘Got a lot of buttons, that top,’ he added. ‘I like a challenge.’

  ‘What I think you need,’ Alison said, ‘is a nice cup of coffee and some focus. You have to go and see her, Jimmy. You have to tell her you’re going. Give her a chance to ask you to stay.’

  ‘I don’t know why she fell out with you, because you are lovely,’ Jimmy said. ‘Apart from the whole sleeping with her boyfriend and then running off to abandon her with her psycho parents thing, and even then everyone makes mistakes. Even her, even Catherine. I bet you that right now she’s somewhere making a mistake, a really big terrible mistake. Yeah, and then who’s she going to come running to, huh? Huh? Not me, because I’ll be in Croatia playing my guitar in a coffin. Oh God, I love her.’

  ‘Right,’ Alison said. ‘Well, if this is the attitude you are going to take then maybe Croatia is a good idea.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’ Jimmy asked her, looking bemused. ‘Are you drunk?’

  ‘No, well, yes, a bit,’ Alison admitted. ‘But what I mean is, you’ve given up at the first hurdle. You told her you love her and she’s told you she doesn’t love you and now you’re all drunk and on the next flight to Croatia. That doesn’t strike me as really loving someone. I think if you really loved her you’d stay and fight for her.’

  ‘She doesn’t want me to fight for her,’ Jimmy said, frowning deeply. ‘I’m doing what she wants because I love her. The funny thing is, all my life I thought that this, touring with a band, playing a gig every night to thousands of people, was my ultimate dream. And it’s not any more. Yeah, I want to play and write and be in a band and earn a bit more cash. But I want to do it here, in my home town, with my girls, so I can kiss them all good night every night, all three of them. Why does God do that? Why does he move the goalposts just when you’ve finally scored? Well, I’ll show him. I’ve just signed up with the other side.’

  ‘Right, I’ve had enough of this,’ Alison said. ‘If you’re not going to go and see her then stop whining and just go to Croatia. It helps a lot not seeing the person you have unreciprocated feelings for, and if you manage to stay away from them for long enough the feelings wear off quite a lot. Sometimes even totally. It’s when they keep popping up at inopportune moments it gets a bit tricky …’ Alison trailed off as she looked into Jimmy’s hazel eyes. ‘And there would be no chance of Catherine popping up in Croatia, would there, so if you haven’t got the guts to go and see her then shut up and get on the train.’

  ‘Can’t,’ Jimmy said. ‘Can’t go without saying goodbye because, first of all she is the mother of my children, second of all she is my best friend, and third of all I bloody love her, I do.’

  ‘Go and see her, Jimmy,’ Alison said.

  ‘Or,’ Jimmy said, ‘I could just take my mind off things with someone else. Someone sexy and friendly and smiley, with a nice buttony top …’

  ‘I think,’ Alison said carefully, ‘I might just nip to the ladies. Look, wait here. When I come back I’ll get you a coffee and you can pop round to Catherine’s before she goes to bed.’

  ‘You’re very sensible,’ Jimmy said as Alison stood up. ‘You never used to be so sensible when you were Catherine’s friend in your tight tops and little skirts.’

  ‘I thought you said you never noticed me,’ Alison said.

  ‘I only said that because I was afraid you were going to make a pass at me. I would have to have been blind never to have noticed you,’ Jimmy said, leaning rather far back in his chair so that it rocked dangerously.

  Alison couldn’t help but beam, and then Jimmy crashed backwards in his chair.

  ‘Get up,’ Alison ordered him as she helped him, glad that the din of the music had covered the commotion. ‘When I get back I’ll bring you a coffee.’

  Once she got into the relative safety of the ladies’ loos, Alison splashed some cool water on her heated cheeks and looked at her damp face framed in the mirror.

  Jimmy Ashley had noticed her when she was seventeen, he had admired her in her tight tops and little skirts. And who knew, perhaps … perhaps if she had never found out about Catherine’s secret boyfriend, perhaps while Cathy was busy with Marc, Jimmy Ashley would have finally noticed how much she fancied him and put down his guitar long enough to ask her out. Alison closed her eyes and tried to imagine what it would have been like to be Jimmy Ashley’s girlfriend back then, holding hands with him in the cinema, being the girl he sang to at gigs, kissing him like crazy on her parents’ doorstep. Would he have stayed with her for a couple of weeks or months, or maybe, just maybe, if she hadn’t left town and he hadn’t fallen for Catherine, maybe he would have always stayed in love with her? Maybe if she’d never known Marc they’d still be together now … except they weren’t together now and she had met Marc, and Jimmy Ashley was in love with Cathy.

  Alison shook her head and patted her cheeks. If only he wasn’t so hot. Even when he was drunk and miserable he was gorgeous. Even when he was clearly only sizing her up because he was desperately in love with Cathy and only wanted someone to take his mind off that, to stop him from taking any positive action, he made her knees tremble. Even though Jimmy Ashley was only flirting with her because he was drunk and in love with another woman, she couldn’t help but like it, a lot.

  Reapplying her lip gloss, Alison wiped away traces of eyeliner that had run around her lower lids with the edges of her thumb. She tossed her hair back over her shoulders and straightened her shoulders. This was her chance to show Cathy that she could be a good friend to her, even one of her best friends again. Jimmy needed to remind Cathy exactly what their relationship used to be like, and even though Alison had no idea what that was exactly, from the way she felt when Jimmy looked at her she could hazard a pretty good guess. She knew exactly what he had to do to bring Cathy to her senses. And even if Cathy never knew that she’d given up the chance to get off with Jimmy Ashley for her, it wouldn’t matter because Alison would know. And she’d know that she’d done the right thing.

  It was then that she looked back up at the mirror and saw Jimmy reflected in it too.

  ‘You and me, babe,’ Jimmy whispered in her ear, his arm encircling her waist. ‘How about it?’

  ‘So,’ Catherine said, handing Marc a glass of wine, ‘how are things?’

  ‘Difficult,’ Marc said. ‘But I can’t complain. I’ve brought it all on myself. I’ve got to start looking for a place to live but I can’t quite bring myself to do it.’

  ‘Oh? Where do you think you might look?’ Catherine asked him, desperate to make small talk, as if trivial conversation might fill in all the gaps between them and stop him from coming any nearer her. ‘Kirsty’s boyfriend lives in this quite nice place up by the golf course, really excellent double glazing …’

  ‘I don’t care really,’ Marc said. ‘I don’t care where I live.’

  ‘Oh, well, it’s good that you’re flexible. They say often when people are looking for property they have expectations that are far too high.’

  ‘You do know why I came here, don’t you?’ Marc asked her. He put down his glass of wine; Catherine looked at it. She held on to hers as if it were a talisman that might protect her from what she knew was coming next.

  ‘For a bit of a chat?’ she said.

  ‘Because the last time I was
here we were interrupted,’ Marc said.

  ‘Oh, right, that.’ Catherine heard herself laugh, conscious that mirth was the last thing she was feeling.

  ‘I think,’ Marc said, leaning over and taking her glass out of her hands, ‘that I was just about to kiss you.’

  ‘Um, well,’ Catherine said, backing away, ‘you were, but in the meantime I’ve been having a think and I wonder if really you kissing me is the most sensible thing for either of us to do because …’

  And then his mouth covered hers and whatever she had been about to say was lost, engulfed by his kiss.

  ‘Foxy lady,’ Jimmy muttered as he pushed Alison back against the tiled wall of the cubicle, forcing the door shut behind him and locking it. He kissed the curve of her neck, his hands in her hair, as his tongue flickered in her cleavage. ‘You are a very sexy woman,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh God,’ Alison sighed, trying to find the will to push him away. ‘Jimmy.’

  ‘Baby,’ Jimmy said, running his hands over her shoulders and cupping a breast in each hand, ‘need to get this top off, too many buttons, might have to rip it.’

  ‘Jimmy, wait,’ Alison said, planting the palms of her hands firmly on his chest and levering a few inches of space between their bodies.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Jimmy asked, looking around at the cubicle as if he’d only just realised where he was. ‘You’re right, not here. How about out the back? It’s cold but I’ll warm you up …’

  ‘Jimmy!’ Alison protested, looking down at Jimmy’s hands, one of which still encased a bosom. She forced herself to concentrate. ‘Don’t treat me like this, Jimmy. I’m trying to be a friend to you and to Catherine. Don’t use me like this because you know how much I like you. It’s not fair.’ She rather awkwardly removed Jimmy’s hand from her chest and held his wrists down at her sides. ‘You know you are a really great guy, and if you and Catherine were properly split up, and you didn’t still really love her, and she didn’t still probably love you, then I’d do it with you right here. I’d take my top off for you anywhere, and I wouldn’t care because I bloody fancy you a lot. I always have.’