Perfect Wives

by Emma Hannigan

  Francine made her way towards the couple, with several adults creeping behind her. ‘Look at us, we’re like silly teenagers,’ she said. ‘They’ll think we’re hillbillies who’ve never seen the likes of them before.’

  ‘Well, we haven’t,’ Jane said.

  Jodi spun around and waved. ‘Hi, ladies! Sorry we’re so late. It looks like it’s going really well,’ she said. ‘Come and meet my husband. Darius, these are my friends.’

  After lots of hand shaking, with Jane holding on to Darius’s hand that little bit too long, the focus was brought to the stage. Saul and Katie had decided to become the first couple to avail themselves of the kissing booth. As Saul held her hand and kissed her cheek, the whole place erupted into applause. ‘What is he like?’ Jodi giggled.

  ‘Looks like he’s going to gravitate towards the stage,’ Darius said, with tears of laughter and pride in his eyes.

  ‘Well, he didn’t lick that off the stones,’ Jane said. ‘That’s my daughter, by the way,’ she explained to Darius.

  ‘Will we start planning the wedding now or would you rather wait until after Christmas?’

  ‘If we could have it in writing here and now before he hits the age of five and moves on, that would be great,’ a man said, stepping into the conversation. ‘I’m Richard, your son’s future father-in-law.’

  Jodi moved away to look at the stalls, happy that Darius was content to mill around and chat.

  As the bazaar drew to a close, the stalls beginning to look bare, the volunteers from St Vincent de Paul arrived.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ Francine said, recognising them. ‘You’re here to collect the donated toys, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ one of them said.

  As they transferred the generous pile to their vehicle, with the help of the dads, Jodi approached them outside in the darkness. ‘I just wanted to give you a personal donation. I’d rather you didn’t make a song and dance of it, if it’s all the same to you,’ she said.

  ‘Eh, sure, Ms Ludlum.’

  ‘It’s Jodi,’ she said, smiling. ‘Thanks a million, and keep up the amazing work.’ Kissing both women on either cheek, she turned and strode back inside, mastering the pencil heels flawlessly.

  One volunteer turned to the other and scratched her head. ‘Did that really happen?’

  ‘Either that or I’m sleep-walking, which isn’t a great plan, considering the ice and the size of that van.’

  Opening the brown padded envelope that Jodi had handed her, the woman looked stunned. ‘There must be over ten grand in this,’ she said quietly.

  Turning it over she noticed Jodi had written something on it:

  Please make sure Santa can get to all the children of Bakers Valley this year. ANONYMOUS

  Epilogue

  Christmas was magical in Francine’s house. The impeccably decorated rooms were a little chewed at the edges. Howie had produced a couple of poos with bits of tinsel in them.

  ‘Look, Mum,’ Cameron said in awe. ‘Howie’s doing special Christmas poos for us. He’s so clever.’

  Instead of feeling faint, Francine caught Carl’s eye and they laughed.

  She was looking forward to ringing out the old and welcoming the New Year with the hope that it would bring happier times. While she and Carl were under no illusions about the hard work Cameron was going to generate for them, she felt certain of one thing. Life wasn’t flawless and she no longer wished it to be. She still adored running her school committee and being involved in the community but she no longer felt the crippling pressure to be the perfect wife.

  She appreciated all the good things she had in her life and realised that she was one of the lucky ones.

  Jodi, Darius and Saul had the most relaxing and cosy Christmas morning ever. Saul nearly burst with excitement as he dragged his stocking into their bed to show them what Santa had left.

  They managed to get dressed in time to knock on Sebastian’s kitchen door at two o’clock for dinner.

  ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jodi said. ‘This is Darius!’

  ‘Hello, Darius. Merry Christmas,’ Sebastian said, holding out his hand.

  Darius shook it. ‘Merry Christmas to you too,’ he said warmly. ‘Thank you for inviting me to dinner today.’

  Saul shoved past his parents, hugged Sebastian and ran into the kitchen. ‘Dad, look, it’s the mirror television I told you about!’ he shouted.

  Sebastian had cooked a traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings.

  ‘Can I set the table?’ Darius asked, as he accepted a glass of champagne.

  ‘Sure. Décor isn’t really my forte, I’m afraid,’ Sebastian admitted.

  ‘That,’ Darius said, ‘is where I come in.’

  Unabashedly rooting around in the kitchen cupboards, Darius transformed the table into a scene straight from Alice in Wonderland.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Sebastian asked, impressed.

  ‘Effortlessly,’ Darius said, with a very serious expression. Jodi burst out laughing and Sebastian grinned.

  By the time they’d finished the delicious meal, all four were wearing silly hats and smiles to match.

  Sebastian and Darius hit it off brilliantly, chatting about everything from planets and stars to politics and fashion. Sebastian could already see why Darius and Jodi had stayed married for so long. Darius was a great guy and clearly adored Jodi and Saul.

  Darius’s phone rang. ‘I’m just nipping outside for a moment,’ he said, with a grin. Through the window, they could see him chatting, waving his arms and gesturing.

  ‘Bloody mobiles,’ Jodi said good-naturedly. As if on cue, her own phone pinged.

  ‘Who’s that, then?’ Sebastian asked, as he stretched lazily.

  ‘Nobody,’ Jodi said, but there was an undeniable flush of colour in her cheeks.

  ‘Tell me!’ Sebastian pushed.

  ‘Ah, it’s just Harry,’ she said mysteriously.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Better known as Mr Matthews,’ she whispered, so Saul wouldn’t hear.

  ‘Ooh, right,’ Sebastian said, with a nod and a wink.

  Jodi responded with her own nod and wink, then added a wide grin.

  ‘Jesus, it’s cold out there,’ Darius exclaimed, as he dashed back inside and threw himself on to the Aga.

  ‘Who were you talking to all that time, sweetie?’ Jodi said, in a teasing voice.

  ‘Ah, it was just Mike,’ Darius said. ‘I was telling him where we are and how much fun we’re all having today.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise you’d told him anything,’ Jodi said, raising her eyebrows and looking a little cross.

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ he said, faltering. ‘Well, I did, but not for publicity reasons.’

  ‘But, Darius, I thought we agreed we’d only announce a change in circumstances,’ Jodi looked down at Saul, ‘when we’d decided the time was right and it could be done with minimal damage.’

  ‘Don’t get excited, honey,’ Darius said gently. ‘I told him as a friend.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Jodi said, throwing her hands up. ‘I guess you have to talk to someone and it’s easy for me to get annoyed. I’m just worried in case this affects Saul, that’s all. I can cope with stuff about you or me but once it runs even close to involving him,’ she gestured sideways with her head, ‘it scares me.’

  ‘I understand, but he’s my friend,’ Darius said again.

  ‘I know and, believe me, Noelle is my friend too,’ Jodi said apologetically.

  ‘No, Jodi.’ There was a slight pause. ‘Mike and I are friends.’

  ‘Whaaat?’ Jodi had just taken a swig of Fanta and nearly choked.

  Sebastian banged her on the back. ‘Take it easy there,’ he said.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, as her eyes watered. She smiled, then hugged Darius and whispered in his ear, ‘I’m really pleased for you.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘It’s only recent and I’m treading carefully but he knows me, warts and all, so for the firs
t time I feel confident about a relationship.’

  ‘You couldn’t make this up,’ Jodi said, giggling. ‘If people even knew the half of it …’

  ‘Yes,’ Sebastian said solemnly. ‘What would the neighbours say?’ He put his hand on his hip and shook his head in mock disgust.

  As Saul joined them, peering up to see what all the laughing was about, Darius sat him on the Aga beside him.

  ‘This is the bestest ever.’ Saul beamed. ‘All my favourite people in one place!’

  Jodi smiled delightedly. On paper, Saul had the most dysfunctional family imaginable. But to look at his happy face anybody would be forgiven for picking him out of a line-up as one of the most contented children they’d ever met.

  It was amazing, Jodi mused, how being true to herself had led her to a better place than she’d ever imagined. Many roles in her life required talented acting but she had grasped that life wasn’t a dress rehearsal. Unless she was being paid an exorbitant fee, with a camera pointing at her, Jodi was finally ready to be herself.

  Read on for an exclusive extract of Emma’s heartwarming new novel The Summer Guest

  CHAPTER 1

  LEXIE GLANCED AT HER WATCH, MAKING SURE SHE had enough time for another cup of coffee. The remnants of breakfast festooned the table. She smiled to herself. Her husband, Sam, was such a creature of habit. As regular as clockwork, he stacked his coffee mug on top of his toast plate, with the knife neatly tucked alongside, but it never occurred to him to transport the pile across the kitchen to the dishwasher.

  This was Lexie’s favourite moment of the day. She flicked off the radio, posted a capsule into the Nespresso machine, placed her already used cup under the spout and pressed the brew button. She and Sam liked to hear the news headlines followed by the round-up of that day’s newspapers, and after that, Lexie relished a few minutes of silence. She felt it set her up for the day ahead.

  As she crossed the kitchen to the bay window-seat, her leather-soled ballerina pumps made a satisfying sound as they connected with the waxed wooden floorboards. She perched on the long, spongy cushion and gazed out into the oval railed-in park opposite. The late May sunshine flooded the neatly kept communal space. Although each of the houses in Cashel Square had fine-sized gardens, the residents all made use of the wooden benches in the park. They took turns to tend the flowerbeds and keep the place clean. It was too small to appeal to gangs of youths and the absence of swings or play equipment meant it rarely attracted nonresident families.

  Lexie sipped her coffee and closed her eyes to savour it. It was just the right temperature, black and strong with no sugar and a delectable covering of cream.

  ‘I hope you don’t liken your coffee to your taste in men,’ Sam had joked when they first met, flexing a long arm and pulling his fingers through his auburn hair.

  Luckily for both of them, Lexie’s taste in men and coffee differed hugely. Soon after meeting they both realised they’d found their soul-mate. They had a no-fuss registry-office wedding, with her friend Maia as chief bridesmaid, flower girl and best man all rolled into one, followed by a lunch with immediate family as the only additional guests.

  Property prices were beginning to rise, so they decided to take the plunge and look for a house to buy. One Sunday afternoon, out for a walk along the promenade in the seaside Dublin suburb of Caracove, they’d happened upon Cashel Square. It comprised eight detached two-storey-over-basement dwellings set in a horseshoe, with the park in the centre, and they’d guessed it was well out of their league. The door to number three had been open and a sandwich board told them there was open viewing. They were the sole viewers and the estate agent seemed thrilled with their arrival.

  ‘It’s a wonderful property but requires a small amount of imagination,’ he said.

  Lexie and Sam had looked at one another and grinned. They knew that meant the place was in dire need of renovation.

  ‘It certainly needs a lot of loving,’ Lexie said, as they wandered from room to room.

  ‘It has massive potential,’ the estate agent said, injecting as much positivity into his voice as he could.

  ‘Yes, massive potential for us to pour an endless bag of cash into it,’ Sam scoffed.

  ‘Can we have a quiet word in private?’ Lexie asked, as they finished their tour.

  ‘Be my guests,’ the estate agent said, yawning.

  Lexie took Sam’s hand and led him back into the kitchen. ‘Sam, I can see us living here,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve totally fallen in love with it.’

  ‘It could be amazing, but it’s not what we’re looking for, is it?’ Sam said, as he rubbed a hand across the peeling plaster on the main wall.

  ‘I love it,’ she repeated. A giggle escaped her as she noticed the colour draining from her husband-of-three-weeks’ face.

  ‘I don’t like that dancing in your eyes, Lexie,’ he said, with a slow smile.

  ‘Let’s make an offer,’ she begged. ‘One well below the asking price and verging on insulting and see where we go.’

  ‘We’re only starting out, hon,’ he reasoned. ‘This is a massive undertaking. It’d be years before it’s back to its former glory. And even longer before we’d manage to pay back everything it’ll siphon from our bank accounts. Old places like this are bottomless pits when it comes to money.’

  ‘Perfect!’ she said. ‘We have all the time in the world. We’re at the beginning of our journey. Let’s do it together. You, me and number three Cashel Square!’

  Lexie knew Sam found it hard to say no to her. Especially when she talked incessantly about the house. Several weeks passed after the initial viewing. Instead of giving up on the idea, Lexie was verging on obsessive.

  ‘You’re annoying me and I don’t even live with you,’ Maia said. ‘Poor Sam now knows he married a lunatic. I reckon you should rein it in a bit. He’ll go running for the hills if you don’t stop with the crazy house talk.’ Maia was a divorce lawyer and, although she had a very happy marriage with steadfast, calm Josh, she had a habit of seeing the worst in every union.

  ‘I’ve seen it a million times – couples torn apart when one or other of them becomes fanatical about something. I told you about the pair who’d been married twenty-four years when it all went belly-up,’ she warned.

  ‘You said he was a sex addict and she was a raving alco. That’s hardly comparable to wanting to build a home with the man I love,’ Lexie said. She had a feeling deep down that Sam was just as keen as she, but he was attempting to be the voice of reason. She chipped away for the next few days until he uttered the words she’d been dying to hear.

  ‘All right! We’ll put in a measly offer. Will that stop your nagging?’ he asked good-naturedly.

  To their astonishment, the offer was accepted.

  ‘It’s an executors’ sale and the family have instructed us to move quickly,’ the estate agent explained.

  Family and friends were marvellous, donating furniture and turning up in droves to the many painting parties the couple held. ‘We’ll provide the materials and pay you in beer and pizza,’ Lexie promised.

  By the end of that first summer of 1998, Lexie and Sam had a kitchen-living room, bathroom and bedroom in liveable order. The replastering wouldn’t have won any DIY awards, but it was good enough to keep the damp out and the heat in.

  ‘It looks like an enormous monster arrived in and vomited Ready Brek all over the place,’ Maia teased. ‘And as for tramping about on mangy old floorboards, nah. I’m happy in my apartment.’ She shuddered.

  ‘That, my dear,’ Lexie said, linking her arm, ‘is where you and I differ. I would go clinically insane in that dog-box you call home. Give me vaguely lumpy plasterwork done by caring but not the most professional of friends and vast open spaces any day.’

  Penelope, Lexie’s mother, was probably more in Maia’s camp when it came to the house. She didn’t do mess or dust or, God forbid, mismatched furnishings. ‘You can do the rest as you go along, I suppose,’ she said uncertainly, as she
perched on the edge of a rather saggy sofa, clutching her handbag.

  ‘Mum, you don’t have to hold your bag like a life-raft. You’re not going to drown on old goose-down cushions. Sam and I are delighted to have this place and we’re not in a hurry to have it looking like something from that glossy interiors magazine, The White Book.’

  ‘So I’ve noticed,’ she said. ‘Still,’ she brightened, ‘as the children start to come along, so too will the decorating.’

  ‘Don’t hold your breath, Mum,’ Lexie said. ‘Children aren’t even a topic for discussion between Sam and me right now.’

  ‘Well, that’s a bit of a silly thing to say, don’t you think? All married couples turn their attention to having a family at some point. Anyway, we don’t need to worry about it this second,’ Penelope assured them. ‘Needless to say your father and I are longing to be grandparents, but your brother just scratched that itch for us with the birth of gorgeous baby Amélie! I’m just saying, that’s all.’

  For the most part, Lexie and Sam kept to themselves. The neighbours in the remaining seven houses were friendly but never intrusive. They’d exchange pleasantries in passing and bid one another good day at the park. Ernie and Margaret in number two fed Tiddles, the cat, if Lexie and Sam were on holiday.

  Now, fifteen years later, there were still many nooks and crannies of number three Cashel Square waiting to be lovingly restored to their former glory. Lexie and Sam had made some headway, of course. They’d replaced the saggy old sofas with gorgeous cream leather ones. All the original fireplaces, ceiling cornices and floorboards had been carefully brought back to their prime. Sam had found a craftsman who’d moved into the basement for six months so he could rethread the sash windows and repair the hinges and panels of the shutters.

  But the new kitchen they’d put in last year had cleared their rainy-day account. Many other rooms were still filled with junk or waiting to have the right furniture added.

  Their long-term plans had changed since 1998 too. After an accident, Lexie had been forced to change tack with her career, but things were finally beginning to look up for them, despite the global recession.