Perfect Wives

by Emma Hannigan

  Sebastian grinned. ‘Why did you change?’

  ‘I wanted to become an actor and there weren’t many roles for people like me. So I became someone else.’

  Sebastian looked at her intently. ‘I’ll tighten that joint in the pipe,’ he said, changing the subject abruptly, ‘but you may need to get a proper plumber in to look at it.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jodi. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’

  ‘I’ve got my flask, thanks. As I mentioned to you before, I’m already behind schedule with the harvest this year. I need to get the rest of the corn cut, so I’ll be making a bit of noise up the back fields over the next while,’ he explained.

  ‘Do you run the farm on your own?’ Jodi asked.

  ‘Pretty much. The same group of lads come and help during the busy times, but the rest of the year it’s just myself and two others.’

  ‘You said your son doesn’t live with you any longer. Do you live in the big house on your own?’ Jodi wondered.

  ‘You ask a lot of questions.’ Sebastian wasn’t smiling but he didn’t appear to be annoyed.

  ‘Sorry.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m trying to get used to village life and I’m finding it totally different from what I’d envisaged,’ she said honestly.

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, the full-time-mother thing is a lot trickier than I’d imagined. Have you seen the mums at the school?’ She whistled. ‘I’m going to have to spruce myself up if I’m to make my son proud. And I’ll have to pay more attention to my catering skills.’

  ‘I wouldn’t stress too much. I used to worry what other people thought once upon a time,’ Sebastian said, ‘but then I realised that being yourself is more important.’ He closed his eyes briefly, as if he was blocking something out. ‘Anyway, that pipe looks like it should hold for now,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you so much. What do I owe you?’ Jodi said, ready to run for her purse.

  ‘Ah, go on out of that,’ Sebastian said. He smiled and his voice was softer now. ‘Keep your front door shut if you’re bothered by mice. The combine harvester tends to uproot them and they go running for shelter.’

  ‘Seriously? Give me a spider the size of your head but I can’t cope with rodents of any shape or size,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘Ugh, their little scratchy paws and long wiry tails give me the heebie-jeebies.’ She shuddered.

  ‘Good luck with that, living at the edge of a cornfield,’ he deadpanned. Then he walked back to the combine harvester, climbed into the cab and started the engine.

  Unsure of what to do with herself, Jodi walked back into the cosiness of the cottage. Saul was on the rug in the sitting room making sound effects as he played with a car. Jodi made straight for the kitchen area and mopped up the wet mess from before. When she’d finished, she went to sit on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ she said.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’ he asked, climbing onto her lap.

  ‘Not a thing,’ she crooned, as she hugged him close. ‘You are the most wonderful child in the world. Do you know that?’ she asked.

  ‘You’re the bestest mummy ever,’ he said, grabbing her ears and kissing her face.

  As they rolled back on the sofa and she tickled him, Jodi thanked her lucky stars that she’d managed to dig herself out of the life Destiny had originally dealt her. Perhaps she’d been sent a special sat nav system by a guardian angel, or maybe she’d just been in the right place at the right time when the talent spotter had walked into her school all those years ago. She knew, though, that she’d never take her new life and career for granted.

  She was about to look for a DVD to watch when her mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ she said happily.

  ‘Babes! Long time no speak!’

  Jodi froze. ‘How did you get this number?’ Glancing at Saul, she was relieved to see he was clicking a car track together, oblivious to her. She went quickly to her bedroom and shut the door. ‘I told you to keep away from me. The game is over, Mac. Leave me alone.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be like that, Jodi. I’m your Mac, remember? I love you to the moon and back.’

  With shaking hands, Jodi turned off the phone and threw it on to the bed. Wrapping her arms around herself, she was suddenly cold and scared.

  Chapter 8

  Francine was baking as if her life depended on it. It was Thursday of the following week and she’d already enough cakes, scones and cookies to feed the country, let alone the mothers of the school. As her second child-free week had loomed, she’d filled her time by clearing out all the rooms in the house. The bedclothes had been changed and everything she could lay her hands on was ironed. The garden looked manicured and the weekly shop was done. Last weekend had been fine: she and the children had welcomed the extra hour in bed and less frenzied weekend routine.

  But this Saturday was going to be interesting, she mused. Normally she spent the morning ferrying the children from one activity to another, cooked lunch, compiled her list for the supermarket and went to buy what they needed. If she didn’t do it then, the rest of the week would be mayhem.

  But she’d been at a loose end so she’d done it today. She’d even written the menus for next week, updated all her index cards and tidied her already tidy desk drawers.

  Francine knew time was running out. She was going to have to tell the girls that she was no longer working. She thought of different ways of putting it.

  ‘I’ve chosen to take a career break …’ Nobody would believe that. ‘Carl doesn’t want me to work outside the home any more.’ Farcical. ‘The economic downturn has knocked me off my perch but I’ll find work again soon.’ As she spoke those truthful words aloud to the coffee plunger, she felt like sobbing.

  Sighing, she weighed the flour for an orange cake. It was one she could freeze, so it wouldn’t go to waste if it wasn’t eaten. Raising the sieve high in the air, she tried to enjoy watching the cascading white flour hit the creamy butter, sugar and egg mixture.

  The fiasco with Saul at Jodi’s house had rattled her badly. Jodi had been so lovely when they’d had the big chat, but Francine had woken sweating in the middle of the night afterwards. She couldn’t ever be friends with Jodi now. There was no way she could find an equal footing with her. Who was she kidding? She was a deranged housewife with a thug of a child, and Jodi was an international superstar with an angelic little boy and a pin-up for a husband.

  Francine laughed bitterly to herself as she dolloped cake mixture into the tin. She’d have to avoid Jodi and most of Bakers Valley until things calmed down.

  To add insult to injury, Cameron had cried and kicked up so badly this morning when she’d tried to say goodbye to him that one of the teachers from another class had been called to help restrain him as she was instructed to leave.

  ‘We’ll call you if he doesn’t settle shortly,’ Mr Matthews had shouted, over the screams. The shame of it all. Just as she was putting the cake into the oven, her landline rang, making her jump and burn her hand on the stove.

  ‘Hello?’ she answered, wincing and licking her hand.

  ‘Mrs Hennessy, this is Mr Matthews, Cameron’s teacher.’

  The voice wasn’t over-friendly. The statement wasn’t followed by anything reassuring like ‘It’s nothing serious,’ or ‘Don’t worry, but …’

  ‘Hello there. Is everything okay now?’

  ‘I’ve had a bit of an incident with Cameron – again. I let it go the last time, but I’m afraid he’s bitten another child.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Francine felt sick.

  ‘I put the first time down to beginning-of-term behaviour,’ Mr Matthews continued. ‘But a short while ago he deliberately took another child’s hand in his own, raised it to his mouth and bit until he drew blood.’

  ‘Oh, dear Lord,’ Francine whispered.

  ‘Mrs Hennessy, I’m concerned because there was no provocation for the attack. In fact, Cameron wasn’t even interacting with the other child prior to the incident.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ F
rancine said. She honestly thought she was going to pass out.

  ‘I’ve spoken to the principal and we feel Cameron might need help with social skills.’

  ‘Isn’t this a bit rushed? Surely he’s entitled to make a couple of mistakes without being branded,’ Francine said, in terror. ‘I mean he’s only there five minutes. Perhaps if we allow him settle in he’ll calm down. How about myself and Carl have a serious word with him this evening and get back to you tomorrow?’

  Mr Matthews didn’t respond.

  ‘I promise Carl and I will have a long chat with Cameron. I’ll be up at the school in the morning for the welcome coffee morning and I’ll pop in to see you afterwards,’ Francine said. ‘I really appreciate you bringing this to my attention so swiftly and I give you my word I’ll get to the bottom of it. Do you need me to call the mother of the little boy Cameron bit?’

  ‘I just spoke with Saul’s mother and she said she didn’t need to take the matter any further for the moment,’ Mr Matthews told her. ‘She was very nice about it, actually, so it might be best to leave it.’

  Francine put the phone down and burst out crying. Why was Cameron behaving in this way?

  Her conversation with Annie niggled at her. She’d apparently been having trouble with Cameron for a while, but Francine figured it couldn’t have been as bad as this or the other woman would’ve cracked up.

  Francine marched into her office. On the shelf, above the index-card boxes, were four leather-bound volumes. One for each of their children. Selecting Cameron’s, she flicked through the pages.

  She’d carefully documented each pregnancy, then each stage of each child’s life. She was planning to keep the books and present them on their twenty-first birthdays.

  Cameron’s book contained everything from a diary entry on the day she’d had her pregnancy confirmed by the doctor, to his scan photographs, right down to the tiny hospital bracelets he’d worn on his ankle and wrist. As she speed-read through, nothing jumped out at her. She hadn’t had any unusual illnesses during her pregnancy, no raised blood pressure or other cause for concern. There seemed no logical explanation for Cameron’s behaviour.

  She pulled the volumes down one by one. At age two – or even three, in Cara’s case – they’d all had their fair share of tantrums. One little story she’d written in Cara’s book documented a down-on-the-floor-kicking incident in the toyshop: Cara wanted the pink My Little Pony so badly she hooked her arm around the leg of the metal shelving unit at Toy City and sobbed her heart out!!

  Francine had thought little stories like that one would make them all smile in years to come. They were the details that were forgotten as the children grew up. It was for good-natured reminiscing, though, rather than a medical-based logging of any behaviour pattern.

  Cameron’s book told similar stories, although as she thumbed through the pages she realised there were far more of them.

  Today Cameron made his mark on the world. During his first ever visit to the supermarket he screamed so loudly for so long that the manager came and helped me lift my groceries into the car! He must’ve been pretty bad if a man in a suit noticed!

  Now the story wasn’t quite so cute. Maybe the signs had been there from day one. Moving on a few pages, Francine felt her heart stop as she read an entry from a year and half previously:

  Cameron seems to have realised he can use his teeth for more than eating. He bit a little girl at the park today. At first I was horrified, but once we all calmed down, myself and the little girl’s mother managed to get the toddlers to hug. Ah, his first hug – aged 2½. Lock up your daughters, mummies!

  Francine slid all the books back on to the shelf and went into the kitchen. She sat at the table and stared into space. Then she picked up her mobile and dialled Carl’s direct number at work. She breathed a sigh of relief when he answered.

  ‘Carl Hennessy speaking.’

  ‘Carl, it’s me.’ Francine knew she sounded like a woman possessed but she couldn’t help it. ‘I’ve had Mr Matthews on the phone. It seems the school are convinced Cameron has behavioural difficulties.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard.’

  ‘Francine, I’m about to go into a meeting. What’s going on, honey?’

  ‘He bit Jodi Ludlum’s son and made him bleed. He’s been lashing out at the other kids all week. What are we going to do?’

  ‘I have to go, honey. We’ll talk to him later on. Kids bite. They kick and fight and say nasty stuff. That’s what they do,’ Carl said. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’ll talk to him later on – have a man-to-man chat. How’s that?’ There was a little chuckle in his voice.

  ‘Okay then,’ Francine said. ‘Bye.’

  There was nothing Carl could do from his office. She really needed to think of a solution to this herself. First she should have a very frank question-and-answer session with Annie.

  ‘Hello, Annie,’ she said, when the other woman answered her phone.

  ‘Francine!’

  ‘You sound happy!’

  ‘I’m having a lovely time. I’m with my sister in the shopping centre. We’re having a bit of a boozy lunch.’

  Francine glanced at her watch. ‘It’s only eleven thirty in the morning, Annie.’ She couldn’t hide her shock and disgust.

  ‘We hadn’t intended on doing this but we’re at the champagne bar in the food hall!’ Annie giggled.

  ‘Well, I won’t keep you,’ Francine said tightly. ‘Maybe you’d give me a call over the next few days?’

  ‘Sure talk to me now. What’s up?’

  ‘Ah, no, I won’t spoil your day.’

  ‘Francine. You can’t do that to me. Spit it out, woman.’

  ‘Well, it’s a little delicate and I’m not sure I want your sister listening in …’

  ‘I tell her everything so you might as well say it,’ Annie said bluntly.

  Gosh, thought Francine. Annie’s not that nice when she’s drinking. A sudden thought hit her. Was the woman an alcoholic? Was she drinking all the time when she was minding Cameron? That might explain things. Panic washed through her.

  ‘Annie, I need you to answer me honestly. Did you drink during the day when you were minding my children?’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Annie said, bursting into giggles. When Francine didn’t respond she stopped abruptly. ‘Jesus, you’re serious, aren’t you?’

  ‘It’s a simple question and I’d like an answer.’

  ‘Francine, you’ve known me for twelve years. When have I ever appeared drunk or incapable?’ Annie’s voice was rising by the second.

  ‘Annie, please. Don’t get so antsy. I was only asking—’

  ‘How dare you, Francine? I’m so hurt you could ask me that. If you must know, my sister insisted I come out with her for the day so I could relax and unwind a little.’ Annie paused. ‘To be honest, I was at the end of my tether with my job. Much as I love those children of yours, it had got to the point with Cameron where I couldn’t have coped any longer. If you hadn’t ended our arrangement, I would have.’

  ‘Oh …’ Francine’s voice was barely above a whisper. ‘I see …’

  ‘I’m sorry, Francine. This is all coming out wrong. It’s not the way I wanted things to end after so long. But now that I’ve said it, I’m afraid I’m going to have to stand by it …’ Annie trailed off. Then she went on, ‘Cameron is extremely difficult to manage. His behaviour causes untold problems. It’s affecting your other children and, by God, it was beginning to seriously affect me. I did try to tell you …’

  ‘Annie, I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you before now. I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact with you since terminating our arrangement. I’m sorry I’ve caused you so much anxiety. I’m sorry—’

  ‘Francine?’ Annie interrupted. ‘Take it easy, pet. You’re starting to really worry me.’

  ‘Oh, please, Annie, don’t you go worrying yourself,’ she said, injecting brightness into her tone. ‘I shouldn’t have bothered you.
Go and have your lunch with your sister. I’ll talk to you again, but for now, please accept my sincere apologies.’ Francine pressed the red button on the phone and cradled it to her chest. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She had always believed the Lord worked in mysterious ways. Her mother, God rest her, had been a very religious woman and had drummed into her that everything happens for a reason. Cameron needed her to be here. Maybe it was only for a while, until he calmed down, but her youngest child had a problem and she needed to fix it.

  All too soon it was time to collect Cameron and she’d have to face Jodi too. This wasn’t the way she had planned it. She was Francine Hennessy. Her children weren’t guttersnipes or bullies. That sort of child only came from a broken home or an underprivileged background, didn’t it?

  Suddenly Francine wasn’t so sure any more. For the first time since her children had started school, she didn’t want to show her face there.

  As she approached the school gates that lunchtime Francine’s heartbeat quickened. The upset she’d experienced that morning had left her feeling so vulnerable and shaken, she was afraid the other mothers would be able to see the hellish emotions she was desperate to hide. More than that, she was terrified word had spread about what Cameron had done that morning.

  ‘Ah, here she is now. The woman of the moment,’ Jane said, doing a mock bow as Francine approached the classroom door.

  ‘Sorry?’ Francine said, horrified. ‘How can you make a joke of it? It’s a very serious matter. I’m actually in an awful state …’

  ‘Hey, I was only kidding,’ Jane said, clearly shocked. ‘I’m only having a bit of fun with you, Francine, love. We were just talking about tomorrow and how you’ve managed to muster up great interest during the last two weeks among the mothers as usual …’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you all think it’s a laugh because I certainly don’t,’ Francine snapped.

  ‘I think you’re getting the wrong end of the stick,’ Andrea ventured, in an attempt to stick up for poor Jane, who looked as if she was about to burst into tears.