My Husband's Wives

by Faith Hogan

  ‘Well, you’ll have plenty of time for that in the future,’ Kasia said. ‘But what about your mum?’

  ‘I think she needs to meet someone new, only she doesn’t agree.’ Delilah shook her head ruefully, ‘I think she’s worried about me. You know?’

  ‘That is very natural; she will always worry about you, but you should not be worrying about her love life or what there is not of it! It is – too much to take on,’ Kasia said smiling, thinking of Jake; Grace had wriggled out of meeting him, again.

  The smell of incinerated beef lurched from the kitchen.

  ‘Well, at least we have dessert,’ Delilah said beneath her breath.

  17

  Annalise

  The lunch had been a family affair – the first Starr family affair, really, apart from Paul’s funeral. It had been good, apart from one small thing: The boys had been unbearable. So much so that Annalise felt like a complete failure. Not because she had no work worth talking of, not because her marriage had been as good as over before, as it turned out, it had ever truly begun. Today threw up one stark fact to her. She was on her own. She was on her own with two little boys who were losing the run of themselves quicker than Naomi on a catwalk. Of course, no one actually said anything. She could almost convince herself that she just imagined the long sighs and the way Evie had rapidly swapped seats to avoid sitting beside Dylan for their meal. Lucky she had. Annalise was left wearing half a litre of apple juice splayed across her white Guess jeans. Her kids, although lovely, were turning into little monsters.

  ‘Nonsense,’ Madeline said that evening. ‘You’re imagining it, I’m sure. They’re always as good as gold when I’m there.’ That was true. Madeline could manage them. There were no catastrophes when the boys were with her, no trips to A&E, no broken windows or escaped toddlers wandering towards the main road. ‘I’m sure it was just a change of scene. It’s a lot of pressure on little ones, sitting there for hours on end, on their best behaviour.’ She was so matter of fact, Annalise might almost have believed her.

  ‘Well, I’m mortified, Mum.’ She rarely called Madeline Mum. God forbid, anyone would think she was old enough to have Annalise as a daughter. Still, she doted on her grandchildren. Perhaps she thought she could pass them off as her own, skip that awkward generation. It was true; there were older-looking mothers every day down at the nursery picking up their offspring.

  ‘Annalise, that’s just silly talk. You’re wound up. It’s been a very emotional time for you and the boys. It’s only natural that you’re feeling down; all you’re doing now is looking to pin it on something that isn’t about losing Paul. Do you want me to come over?’ Annalise had a feeling it was the last thing Madeline wanted to do. On Sunday evenings, she liked to read the papers. It was the only day of the week she did that: sat and sipped a glass of wine – just one – and read the broadsheets from one end to the other. They were so different, nurture over nature. The nearest she got to the newspapers was the app on her phone that was constantly updating celeb gossip, and even that was gone, since she had decided to dump all things celebrity-related.

  ‘No, I’m fine. Really, the boys are flaked. I’ll probably just carry them into their beds and they’ll sleep until morning.’ While they’d been in Grace Kennedy’s house, they hadn’t stopped moving. Delilah enjoyed them and she’d chased them unmercifully about the garden. Annalise went to check on them at one stage and found them hiding in the centre of a fuchsia bush, doing their best to contain their excitement.

  ‘Shh Mum, don’t tell her we’re here,’ Dylan loud-whispered at her. His face flushed with excitement.

  ‘Grrh, I’m the lion, coming to gobble you for dinner,’ Delilah roared from the next shrub.

  ‘Peas, Mum, go away, she’ll find us,’ Dylan said. Annalise had to concede. Delilah was a lovely girl. She was an odd mix of both her parents: dark and wide-eyed like her mother, but already heading for six foot like Paul. She could be a model, but she seemed to spend her spare time drawing shapes and designs. She confided in Evie that she wanted to be a doctor.

  ‘You should invite her over to your house. It’d give them a chance to bond. They are half--siblings, after all,’ Evie said as they watched the children play contentedly.

  ‘That’s a great idea.’ Annalise smiled. ‘I always thought that Grace didn’t want the boys and Delilah getting close. It looks as if I was wrong.’ Perhaps an evening with take-out pizza and Cokes all around? Mind you, on the journey home, she began mentally to discount all fizzy drinks at least until they were teenagers! Carrying first one, then the other into the house, she dropped them into their beds and kissed them both gently on their silky fringes. She loved them most when they were asleep, she thought.

  That night, Annalise did not sleep. Instead her mind took twists and turns that she didn’t think it was capable of now. The double bed seemed to have grown to the size of a football pitch and her imagination raced in the darkness. It wasn’t just Paul who crowded her thoughts, although he was a big part of them. He’d always managed to give her life some order. He was always ready to pull her out of any hole she managed to dig for herself. Without him, well, everything was unstable and confused. That first day still played on her mind, when she’d learned that Kasia had been with him. How she hated him! How could he have been so thoughtless as to go out and get himself killed with this strange girl in the car with him? She wondered what their relationship had involved. Was he simply being a friend to her? Kasia never said. But she was pregnant. In the silence of night, Annalise couldn’t quell that niggling thought that the baby was his. He had obviously confided a lot in her – of course they were having an affair. Kasia seemed to know him so well, it seemed maybe better than any of them in the end.

  Maybe Madeline was right. She was still processing his death. She was still trying to figure out how to grieve. And yes, she was agonizing over how she was going to manage two strong-willed boys on her own, with no father. It was almost six in the morning before she nodded off into an uneasy sleep.

  *

  Annalise turned over on the soft downy pillow, a slight buzzing in her ears. Semi-consciously, she imagined it was next door’s lawnmower powered up early, or maybe, in the distance, the sound of workers drilling hard into a dry road. The noise persisted; she couldn’t say for how long. After a while, it blended into the normal morning sounds. Annalise turned over and prepared to snooze some more.

  ‘Mu..u..u..u..m!’ The shout, when it came, was more of a congested squeal. It was shrill enough to propel Annalise from her bed, into the corridor and towards the bathroom before the last elongated vowel ended.

  ‘Oh my God.’ Annalise threw her hands to her face. Silken bunches of golden hair sashayed beneath her feet, slippery on the Italian marble of the bathroom floor. For a moment, she couldn’t move. The boys, standing at the double vanity unit, gaped at her reflection behind them in the mirror.

  ‘Mum,’ Dylan’s voice drifted into her shocked, exhausted mind. ‘Mum, he’s bleeding.’ The child’s voice quivered and, in an instant, Annalise became fully alert. ‘Oh my God.’ She rushed to cradle Jerome. Sometimes she forgot he was only two – her baby. She examined his head; a zigzag of bald patches interlaced with what was left of his former mop of golden curls. The worst part though, was not that Dylan had cut his wonderful whorls; the part that almost made her faint, was that there was blood streaming from his upper lip. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I was giving him a shave, just like Daddy, but…’

  ‘So, you were shaving off his beard and managed to cut off most of his hair as well?’ She glared at Dylan, whose face bleached with terror. ‘And this…’ Swiftly, she pulled out cotton wipes from the cabinet and began to wipe away the blood pouring from Jerome’s lip. It seemed to take forever to stop the flow. In the end, the cut was not impressive enough to warrant a trip to the A&E.

  Once the blood dried and the tears lessened, Annalise pulled the two boys in close to her. ‘First of all, no one is shaving in t
his house until they are old enough to stand in front of the mirror without a stool.’ She pointed at the two chairs the boys had taken from their own room for the operation. They nodded agreement. Dylan was silent, for once – defeated, perhaps by shock, certainly by fear. There was no telling what was coming next. Annalise never raised her voice to them, but today, she felt such a mixture of terror and temper. ‘Second, any boy who can take down a razor and shave his brother can operate a sweeping brush. You’ll put this bathroom back to the way you found it, Dylan.’ Her breath caught in her chest for a moment. Was this what being in control was meant to feel like? ‘By the time I have breakfast made, I’ll inspect it before you eat.’ Breakfast was always a big priority for her boys – especially pancakes – so that was what she set about making. She wanted to hug them close, but managed to resist the urge. Plenty of time for that later, when they’d cleaned up the mess.

  It was ten o’clock before they ate breakfast, but they sat down a straightened bunch. Annalise, despite the fury and the distress, felt as though the incident was a turning point for her. She rang the hairdressers and marched the two boys in for hooligan haircuts. She bit her lip and refused to cry as the remainder of their beautiful hair fell to the stylist’s floor.

  But she did it all – binned the offending razor and any other dangerous items, and dropped them at nursery – without having to call Madeline.

  *

  Annalise could see in an instant why Kasia thought Jake Marshall would be perfect for Grace. To Annalise’s mind, he’d be perfect for anyone. She’d put him in his late thirties. His sandy brown hair was a little too long, dishevelled in a good way, with just a few grey strands beginning to show through. His skin was tanned, his eyes were bright but thoughtful, his shoulders broad. He was the kind of man who could sort things out. She’d fall for him herself, if she wasn’t still getting over losing Paul.

  ‘This is Annalise,’ Kasia said as she handed Jake a bag full of brown bread and pastries. ‘Don’t sit on it,’ she said. They ordered glasses of beer, perfect for a hot afternoon.

  ‘How’s the bakery going?’ he asked. This was a perk: since Kasia started baking, she had brought him different cakes and pastries to try out. They met, generally if he was close to Howth, but Kasia told Annalise she thought he really hoped to bump into Grace.

  ‘You tell me?’ she said opening the bag to let the aroma of fresh brown bread escape.

  ‘No complaints from me.’ He smiled across at Annalise. ‘Are all your girl pals famous?’ Jake teased Kasia.

  ‘Almost! You’ve just met nearly all my friends.’

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘no Grace Kennedy today?’

  ‘You sound disappointed?’ Annalise said and she was glad they came here. She loved this pub. The Stag’s Head was one of Dublin’s oldest pubs. She scanned the room, with its dark wood, glittering glasses and smoke-stained mirrors. The other customers were a mixture of commercial types, old men and art students. It was the kind of place you couldn’t be nervous.

  ‘Hmm.’ He blushed, sipped his beer thoughtfully.

  ‘You could always drop into her studio. She’s there most days painting, on her own,’ Kasia said, looking towards the bar.

  ‘You didn’t have to come and give me this,’ he said, pointing at the bag of goodies at his side.

  ‘I did. You were very kind to me, and anyway, now we are friends. I have learned that when you meet nice people, it is better to keep hold of them. They are far, few and between – that is how you say it?’

  ‘Surely you don’t believe that,’ he said. ‘I meet nice people all the time.’

  ‘Well, the good ones are beginning to outnumber the bad ones over the last few weeks, but still…’

  ‘So, you had a…’ Jake leaned forward a little, lowered his voice as though they might be talking about something illicit, ‘a proposal for me?’

  ‘Yes. I have. Well, we have…’ Kasia nudged Annalise. It was her opportunity to pitch.

  ‘You told Kasia that you’re making a documentary?’

  ‘Yes, we’re just at the start actually, but already, with the likelihood of a general election, I have a feeling we’re on the button.’

  ‘Well, I guess I’m applying for a job as a presenter and… before you say anything I have to qualify that with a number of caveats.’ She had found the word on a parenting website she’d been browsing before Jake arrived, and hoped it made her sound intelligent. ‘First of all, I’ll be honest with you. I have no presenting experience, but…’ she raised a slender finger. ‘People know me. I’m a face they recognize.’ She didn’t go into details. ‘I’m comfortable in front of the camera, and best of all, I’ll work free of charge, if I can have a little of the footage to put into a show reel for my portfolio.’

  ‘Well,’ he considered his glass of beer. ‘When you said proposal, I thought maybe it was… well anyway, it’s not.’ Had he expected Grace?

  ‘You don’t have to decide right away, obviously,’ Kasia smiled at him and Annalise could see that he, too, had been charmed by her. Most people warmed to Kasia immediately.

  ‘Well, I can’t anyway. I’d have to talk to Aiden. I’m just the cameraman. Production and sound is with my business partner, Aiden Lafferty. I can see – sorry if this makes you feel a bit like a commodity – but I can see how the nationals are much more likely to want the programme with you fronting it than some old bore turning up in a rain jacket here and there.’

  ‘So, that’s a positive?’ Kasia asked.

  ‘Well, yeah, I suppose it is. But I still have to run it by Aiden.’ He sipped his drink again. ‘Just checking, there would be no expenses, no payment of any kind, right?’

  ‘Right.’ Annalise didn’t want him to hear even a twinge of excitement. ‘I can even do my own make up,’ she said, holding her glass up to toast what might yet come her way.

  *

  Annalise had it all worked out. They’d call it the Starr Car if they could get the money. Evie fancied paintwork in lavender with a lucky lady on the wing – she’d picked the car out weeks ago. The garage name would have to go on the side, but these were all details to be ironed out after Evie impressed her dad. It was strange to think of Evie here, comfortable in this very male world. It smelled of oil and engine grease. Annalise couldn’t hear herself think with the roar of engines or the spits of profanity from the garage boys when things went quiet. Evie loved it. She loved the exhaust fumes, the time counts, the flags and, Annalise suspected, she loved the speed. Her eyesight and co-ordination were razor-sharp and she was fearless on the track.

  ‘Dad, sit here.’ Annalise picked out two seats high up in the spectators’ arena. ‘Just watch, okay? That’s all I’m asking.’ Her dad waved across at some of the mechanics – they all knew him.

  ‘Least I can do. Sure, don’t they all come and buy their cars off me anyway, one way or another?’ It was true, if they didn’t buy directly through his dealership, chances were he had imported whatever they were driving at some point. ‘So, this driver you want me to see, does he have a name?’

  ‘I’m sure he does, but it doesn’t really matter, does it? All you need to know is that he can drive and that he has some chance of winning a few races, right?’

  ‘That’s my girl.’ He smiled at her. ‘You haven’t got your eye on some old grease monkey, have you?’ He managed to keep his voice light. Annalise knew it would be hard for her father to think of her diving into another relationship so soon. To say they’d all been upset when Paul died was an understatement, but her dad took it especially hard that Kasia was in the car with him. Funny though, once they got to know Kasia, it seemed to matter less with each passing day. Life was turning out well for Annalise. Perhaps not as she would have dreamed of only a couple of months ago, but Kasia had taught her to count her blessings. It surprised her when she realized she was more content than she’d ever bargained on.

  ‘Dad, don’t worry; I’m sworn off men for the foreseeable. This is just…’ She nodded tow
ards the car taking position at the flag. ‘It is just an opportunity that I wouldn’t want you to miss.’ She smiled at him, watched as his eyes creased in return. ‘I think you’re going to be pleasantly surprised.’ As Annalise expected, the little car blasted off from the start.

  ‘That’s a belter.’ One of the older men who’d been talking to the mechanics plonked himself down beside Annalise.

  ‘Yes. A good driver. Experienced, too,’ Annalise agreed. She was fit to burst with pride, not just because Evie was a really good driver, but because she felt as if she had somehow helped her back to where and who she was before she met Paul. Evie was getting better every day, and not just in the MG. She was, Annalise thought, slowly transforming into the woman she should have been before Paul left her all those years ago.

  ‘Let’s wait till we see what he does on the turns.’ Her father was non-committal as the car raced into the first turn and held tight to the inside as well as any professional. The laps continued, each one better than the last, until finally they raised the chequered flag.

  ‘Well, Dad, what do you think? Worth putting your money on?’

  ‘Granted, probably as good a shot as any I’ve seen, but…’ Her Dad was watching the car closely. ‘What do you think Edwin? Likely to be coming your way or mine?’ He winked across at Annalise. ‘Edwin runs an undertaking business out in Howth – still at it, Ed?’

  ‘I’d say he can drive all right.’ The man reached across his hand towards Annalise. ‘Nice to meet you, luv.’ But he was hardly looking at her. Instead, he seemed to falter over his next words. ‘Blow me, that’s Evie blooming Considine in that car.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Annalise, you might have warned me,’ her father said, then he waved at Evie. ‘It looks as if you’ve got a backer. Let’s go tell her I’d be delighted to sponsor her.’ Annalise threw her arms around him. He really was the best dad ever.

  *

  It was three days later that her phone pinged. Aiden Lafferty wanted to see her for an audition. When would suit her?