Perfect Wives

by Emma Hannigan

  ‘Hey! Some courtesy wouldn’t go amiss,’ he said, holding his hands up.

  ‘I don’t have the time or energy for playing games. Noelle tells me you’re making threats again.’

  ‘Ah, Jodi, why do you always have to think the worst of me? What happened to us, eh? Where did all the love go? I know I acted like a fool but we were young and silly.’ He tried to take her hand but she snatched it away and strode across the room to sit at the large table.

  ‘I still love you, Jodi. I never stopped loving you.’

  It was ironic. For so many years, those were the words Jodi had longed to hear. Sadly, until very recently, she might even have believed him.

  What a fool she’d been.

  So blind and unsure. Her broken heart had hampered her for so long, in spite of all she’d achieved. Not any more. This was it.

  ‘Cut to the chase, Mac.’

  ‘The only reason I told the old battleaxe I was going to talk to the press was so I could see you. You disappeared last week and I’ve been a mess ever since.’ Pulling his fingers through his hair, he waited to see if she’d take the bait.

  ‘Mac, this isn’t going to work any more,’ Jodi stated.

  A soft knock at the door broke the tension.

  ‘I’ll leave your order here, madam,’ the waiter said.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Jodi replied.

  Mac paced the room, looking more agitated by the second.

  As the door closed, Jodi smiled. ‘You really are a pompous little sod, aren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Mac said, taking a deep slug of his pint.

  ‘You never look people in the eye unless you want to manipulate them. You’re rude and dismissive of anyone you think won’t gain you social standing. The couple of people who’ve been dealing with us since we got here might as well have been invisible, as far as you’re concerned. You haven’t spoken to them at all.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever,’ Mac said dismissively. ‘Listen, it’s been six years, babe. We belong together, you and I,’ he continued. ‘You don’t love Darius. He’s in love with his own reflection. Any fool can see that.’ Mac slid into the chair beside her. ‘We’re the same, you and me. We fit together like beans and toast, tea and biscuits. We’re both Irish.’

  ‘Mac! I loved you far more than was good for me. But you’re toxic. You’re like a cancer that’s been festering in my heart. You tried to destroy me, Mac, and you’re still trying. I’ve lost enough.’

  ‘Listen! We were young and foolish. We know what matters now. We’re good together.’

  ‘No! Mac, we’re not good together. You nearly buried me. On every level. I can’t and won’t forgive you. I don’t love you any more.’ She held up her hands and stared at him.

  ‘I don’t believe you, Jodi.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get with the plot because it’s all over. Go to the press, if that’s what you want. Tell them everything you can think of. If it doesn’t seem enough, make some up. Be my guest. But you won’t get another cent out of me and, most importantly to me, you aren’t going to hurt me any more.’

  ‘You’re making a big mistake, my girl,’ Mac said, banging his hands on the table. ‘You’re going to regret this.’

  ‘I won’t.’ With that, Jodi pushed her chair back and calmly left the room.

  Mac was so stunned that he didn’t follow her. He kicked over a chair, grabbed his Guinness and downed it. The bitter aftertaste made him shudder. He was up against it financially. He couldn’t get work – well, none that suited him. He’d gone off jobs where he had to be up at all hours of the morning in places that were cold and uncomfortable. He owed rent to his landlord and God knew to how many others. His sideline business was too dodgy. Drugs squads were clamping down on dealers, even small guys like himself.

  Being a bit broke had never bothered him before because he’d always known that Jodi would bail him out when he needed her to.

  He’d still have been with her if she hadn’t freaked out and run for the hills after that fateful episode. But that was Jodi, always looking over her shoulder, always terrified she’d be told she wasn’t worthy.

  Stupid, really, that the only one who couldn’t see she was a star was Jodi. Little did she realise that, no matter what she did, the public would probably still love her. She’d captured the hearts of the world with her shy demeanour. She was like a living doll with a little bit of punch. She was a bloody brilliant actor, too.

  He’d been a fool ever to let her go. Of course he knew that now. He’d known it for years. But he’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of their lives at the time that he’d taken his eye off the prize. He’d looked his gift horse in the mouth.

  He picked up the steak sandwich and bit into it like a savage.

  Fuck her. This was not what he’d planned. He’d have to go to a few of the papers now and feed them a bit of the story. If he wanted to make a decent amount out of it he’d have to dangle the carrot – bounce the papers off one another and try to secure a good price.

  But the recession had hit everyone. None of the red-tops had the cash to pay massive amounts for stories these days. He have to call the World News and spoof his way to a quick payout. He’d tell them one of the others had an offer on the table.

  As he strode out of the conference room, he saw Jodi zooming away in her convertible Mini. She looked shattered. She was wearing big bug-like shades but he could tell she was distressed. A brief moment of compassion swept through him. He knew she didn’t deserve the filth he was planning to spew about her. She was a hard-working, lovely girl.

  ‘Can I call you a taxi, sir?’ the receptionist asked politely, making him jump.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘I’m meeting someone else around the corner.’

  ‘Sure,’ she said easily, and turned away.

  Mac noticed she was very attractive. He really did need to take more notice of people, like Jodi had said. If he’d flirted with her a bit from the beginning the receptionist might’ve agreed to go on a date with him that night and he could’ve stayed in Dublin for a day or two. He could have done with a good shag and she probably had access to the residents’ bar. Instead he’d have to get the bus back to the airport and catch his return flight.

  By the time he’d paid his bus fare, Mac was stony broke. He hadn’t even enough to buy a pint. When he’d got to the airport and gone through security, he shoved his hands into his pockets and skulked towards the airside bar, glancing around for any half-decent-looking women. He’d work his usual charm and scab a few drinks before take-off.

  He’d three hours to kill, annoyingly enough. Jodi really had given him short shrift. Anger rose within him. He was going to carry out his threat. He’d call her bluff. He was certain that once a newspaper erupted with the story she’d be back, trying to get him to shut up.

  He had to stay positive. This spell of hardship would pass. Soon he’d be on the pig’s back again.

  Jodi’s hands were still shaking as she pulled up outside the cottage. Mac was such a low-life scumbag. She turned off the car engine, called Darius and slid down in her seat, unable to face walking inside to the emptiness.

  ‘Hey, little lady,’ he answered, sounding groggy.

  ‘Sorry – what time is it where you are?’

  ‘Uh … Five or six, I think. How did it go? You talk and I’ll grunt.’ They’d been texting one another the previous night and Jodi had promised to call him and fill him in.

  ‘It was pretty horrendous. But, on the upside, I’m cured! I’ve finally had my epiphany! I now see with full clarity what you’ve tried to tell me for years. What did I see in him, Darius?’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve seen the light, but sorry you’re hurting. I wish I wasn’t so far away. You need a hug right now.’

  The silence was broken by her soft sobs.

  ‘Oh, sweetie,’ Darius said, starting to cry too. ‘I hate that asshole for doing this to you. Let it out, though. We’ll cry together for the last t
ime over him.’

  ‘Thanks, darling.’

  ‘You’re welcome, honey. So what’s his beef? Is he still planning on spilling the beans?’

  ‘So he says. But I am going to let him, Darius. He can do his worst. Let him talk to everyone he can find. I’m ready to face the music. It’ll be a horrible few weeks but then it’ll be someone else.’

  ‘You said it. I’ll be here in every way I can and I’ll do whatever interviews are required. I’ll push the perfect marriage and heroic husband who healed your heart.’

  ‘Thanks, Darius,’ she said sadly. ‘And as usual I’ll be the perfect wife.’

  ‘Okay, gorgeous girl. I’m not on set until midday today, which is like, um,’ Jodi heard his bedclothes rustle, ‘oh, ages. Call me again if you want. I’ll be behind you, no matter what comes out.’

  Her head hurt as Jodi got out of the car and let herself into the cottage. She knew she’d have to phone Noelle and fill her in. At least Mac didn’t know the details of her marriage to Darius, she thought. What he wanted to tell the world was bad enough but Jodi was finally ready to view the skeletons in her closet.

  Chapter 28

  Francine had to keep reminding herself that Howie was a positive addition to their home. As she knelt to clean yet another patch of pee, she figured she might as well keep her rubber gloves on all day and invest in a carpet spray that clipped on to her belt for easy access. She was John Wayne meets Mr Proper.

  The couch was shredded at the corners and she’d lost count of chewed-beyond-salvageable shoes. Her baking had been limited too, not because she was sleeping soundly but because it was a futile exercise. Once Howie knew she was in the kitchen he wanted to be there with her. But no matter how many times she tapped him on the nose or told him no in a stern voice, he didn’t understand: he clambered on to the chairs and knocked her tins or bowls on to the floor. The cherished pottery mixing bowl that had been her mother’s had been the first casualty.

  On his third night in their house she’d decided to try a gingerbread recipe. Just as she’d finished grating the ginger, ready to fold into the mixture, Howie had snatched the mini grater, crushed it in his jaws and swiped the mixing bowl on to the floor. The dark molasses-laden batter had oozed over the tiles and he’d licked up quite a lot of it before she could get around the table to stop him.

  Utterly demoralised, Francine lowered herself on to the nearest chair and sobbed. Moments later Howie vomited the mixture all over the hem of the curtains and she buried her face in the oven mitts to muffle her screams.

  By the time she’d cleaned away the mess, unhooked the heavy kitchen curtains and bagged them for the dry cleaner, she felt beaten. Knowing she wouldn’t sleep that night, but past caring, Francine made a pot of fresh coffee. She poured herself a generous mug, then sat and stared into space until she finally heard Carl’s footsteps overhead, then coming down the stairs.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, leaning over to kiss her. ‘You’re up early.’

  ‘I thought I’d get the curtains cleaned and start on the pre-Christmas clean-up,’ she lied.

  ‘Good plan. Hello, Howie,’ he said, patting the puppy’s head. ‘The little fella seems to have calmed down already. That’s great, isn’t it?’

  Francine hadn’t the energy to explain why Howie was acting like he’d been anaesthetised.

  ‘Early meeting and all that, better fly,’ Carl said.

  ‘Have a good day,’ Francine said, as brightly as she could.

  The second the front door banged, Howie’s head shot up, which signalled that he’d had enough sleep, and Cameron tore out of his bedroom looking to play.

  Somehow she got through breakfast. On auto-pilot she made four packed lunches and ensured everyone had the right coat, hat and scarf.

  ‘I hate that hat, Mum. It makes my head itchy and it’s such a vile colour,’ Cara said grumpily.

  ‘How about this one, then?’ Francine said blandly, rooting in the wicker basket that held all the winter woollies.

  ‘Seriously?’ Cara looked at her mother as if she was sick in the head.

  ‘Well, you find one, then,’ Francine said, placing the basket back on the shelf in the utility room.

  ‘I don’t want to wear a hat,’ Cara moaned.

  ‘Don’t, then. I’ll be in the car. You all have exactly five minutes to follow me with your bags before I turn on the ignition and reverse out of the driveway,’ she said quietly. Wearing her Dalmatian dressing-gown, nightie and slippers, her hair matted, she got into the car.

  The four children made their way outside, dragging their bags, silenced by her astonishing attire and that she’d pretty much abandoned them.

  Francine watched in the rear-view mirror as Conor was left to wrestle with Howie. ‘No, Howie, you can’t come,’ he said. Grabbing a ball from just inside the front door, he tossed it down the hall and the puppy charged after it, allowing Conor to slam the door.

  ‘Nicely done, Conor,’ Francine said, smiling at him.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘Are you seriously driving to the school in your dressing-gown?’ Cara was clearly unnerved.

  ‘Yup,’ Francine said, gripping the steering wheel.

  ‘But what if someone sees you?’ Cara asked.

  ‘I won’t get out of the car. You can bring Cameron into Mr Matthews and the rest of you can go in on your own for today.’

  ‘But you’re meant to come with us,’ Craig said.

  ‘Well, you can tell your teacher that I was busy cleaning dog poo all night and I’ll make it up to her,’ Francine said evenly.

  The boys roared laughing and Cara joined in.

  ‘You’re funny, Mum!’ Cameron said.

  A few minutes later she was pulling up in the school car park. ‘Bye, guys,’ she said. ‘Cara, make sure your brothers all end up in the right rooms.’

  The boys waved, seeming pleased at the idea of wandering into school unaccompanied. But Cara gazed at her. She was well aware that her mother never went out in her nightwear and had never left them to walk into their classrooms alone.

  ‘See you later, Mum,’ she said eventually.

  ‘Bye, love. I’ll be fine later. I think poor Howie has a tummy bug,’ she said.

  ‘I love you, Mum,’ Cara said, and banged the car door shut.

  Her daughter’s words made Francine’s heart leap for joy. Things would work themselves out. They were good kids and this was a little hiccup in life.

  Everyone had them and, although she hadn’t thought she’d ever be included in that club, like it or lump it, this was hers. She’d go home, clean herself up and snap out of this silly behaviour.

  Francine’s determined calm didn’t last long. By the time she returned from the school run, Howie had passed the remainder of the gingerbread mixture in a runny stinking stream up the stair carpet. The silence meant he was busy. Francine found a basin and the scrubbing brush, then worked her way up the soiled staircase. Her blood ran cold as she spotted the puppy gnawing the heel of a cherished Prada sandal. ‘Nooo!’ she wailed, lunging forward to wrest it from him.

  He bounded down the stairs with the shoe in his mouth, squatted at the front door and yelped as his bowels opened again.

  Francine opened her mouth and cried like a toddler.

  Howie cantered back up the stairs, positioned himself beside her, stuck his nose into the air and joined in.

  It took her for ever to scrape herself off the floor, make her way to the office and Google the number of a local vet.

  ‘You’d better bring him in to see us. He might become dehydrated, poor fella,’ the nurse said, on the phone. ‘If you can make it straight away we’ll fit you in.’

  ‘He’s almost due his booster injection. Would you give him that too?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘If afraid he can’t have any inoculations while he’s ill.’

  ‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Francine said, deflated. The sooner she got the puppy sorted, the sooner the children could play wit
h him outdoors.

  Francine put on her tracksuit and attempted to tidy her hair. Then she yanked on a warm coat and clipped on Howie’s lead. Somehow she levered herself, Howie and the bag of curtains into the car.

  An injection, some ‘helpful’ advice on puppy care and 180 euro later, Francine made her way to the dry cleaner.

  ‘We’ll do our best but that’s glazed linen and it’s a pale colour,’ the lady said. ‘They’re also triple lined. It’s going to cost you.’

  ‘Super,’ Francine deadpanned. She declined the offer to pay in cash and receive a five per cent discount. ‘I’ve no money with me and the nearest cash point is at the other end of town.’

  ‘More money than sense, some people,’ the lady muttered.

  Francine walked numbly out of the door. Her mobile phone rang.

  ‘Hi, Jodi,’ she said.

  ‘Hi, Francine. I know you’re meant to have Saul this afternoon, but I’ve had a bad morning and I was wondering if there’s any way you might consider letting me take the boys to my place.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ Francine asked.

  ‘I will be. I promise I’ll explain it all to you later, but right now I can’t go into it. Saul was so excited about seeing the puppy, so I could have him as well, if you like. You probably think I’m crazy but I need the distraction and would really appreciate the loan of your son and puppy!’

  ‘Yes! Actually, I didn’t get much sleep last night. Howie, the pup, wasn’t well – he’s absolutely fine now, though,’ Francine said. ‘And I’d be more grateful than you’ll ever know to have a few hours’ peace. The only problem is that he hasn’t had his final booster injection so he can’t go outside. I’m so exhausted, though …’ Francine trailed off.

  ‘I’ll drive to the school and meet you there, transfer the boys and the pup into my car and bring him straight to my kitchen. Seeing as we don’t have any other animals, I’m sure he’d be safe. What do you think?’

  ‘This could be massively irresponsible of me, Jodi, but I’m going to risk it,’ Francine said.