My Husband's Wife

by Amanda Prowse

  ‘Well, thank you for that helpful insight. I think what’s unfair is talking about things in front of them that you know nothing about.’

  She shrank back in the seat.

  ‘Gerri shouted at Daddy and he took Truffle to the farm.’ Naomi filled in some of the gaps.

  Rosie watched as Phil rubbed his palm over his face. He didn’t look at all like a man who was living the life.

  *

  Saying goodbye to them at Paddington was harder than she could possibly have imagined. She held them tightly and whispered reassurances, as much for her benefit as theirs.

  ‘As soon as we can go home and the house is fixed, we’ll make it lovely and we can celebrate by going for a long walk on the beach.’

  Naomi looked downcast as she held her one last time. ‘I’m sorry, Mummy,’ she whispered.

  ‘What are you sorry for?’

  Naomi swallowed. ‘Because I talk too much and I am never quiet and I don’t give you a minute to think.’

  The words she spoke were not her own and Rosie felt her heart constrict. ‘No! No, darling! You listen to me. Your noise, your chat and the way you laugh, those are the things I miss most. Don’t ever stop being you. I love you just the way you are, noise and all, and when we all get home, I want you to make as much noise as you can! Do you understand me?’

  Naomi nodded. ‘I love you, Mummy.’

  ‘I love you too.’

  ‘I miss you, Mum.’ Leona joined in.

  ‘I miss you too.’

  Standing on the concourse watching her children walk in the opposite direction left her distraught. She climbed onto the train and cared little that her tear-stained face and noisy sobs drew the stares and comments of her fellow commuters. They didn’t matter. Nothing did.

  Arriving at Exeter St David’s, she found her dad standing in the ticket hall, rocking on his soft-soled shoes, his pale blue car coat zipped up under his chin as he waited for her on the other side of the ticket barrier. A group of carollers in bright scarves, gloves and hats, wrapped up against the evening chill, stood in a circle and were midway through ‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing’. The sound they made was beautiful, angelic, and Rosie found it quite unbearable.

  She stumbled towards her dad and uncharacteristically fell into his arms and clung to him, all self-consciousness gone. She needed her dad and, this time, he was there for her.

  18

  Rosie had taken to her bed. Like the ladies of the Victorian era who simply retired upstairs with an undiagnosed malaise, refused visitors and spent their days prostrate with nothing but their thoughts for company, she lay there day after day, in deep reflection. Only this was no fictitious disorder; she was full of sadness that weighed her down mentally and physically. Her main preoccupation was wishing that time would go faster, faster.

  Christmas was a miserable affair. Hearing the girls’ excited chatter down the line, as they described the vast Christmas tree in the grand hallway and a busy morning with Nanny Mo and Grandad Keith, the cooking of pancakes with bacon, and the rich haul of booty that Santa had delivered, was horrible. Not that she wasn’t delighted for her girls to be the proud owners of iPads, furry ear muffs and trainers with wheels in the base; it was more that their gifts emphasised both her inability to provide for them and her loneliness as she pictured the family that used to be hers gathered round the abundantly decorated tree of her imagination.

  Mo had whispered her festive refrain a little awkwardly, obviously within earshot of Gerri and embarrassed by the absence of her daughter-in-law. Rosie had politely declined the offer of staying at Highthorne while Gerri, Phil and the girls were down for two days, knowing it was more than she could cope with. She now refused to leave the bedroom. Not even Shona’s offer of a bowlful of sherry trifle and first dip into the Quality Street tub was enough to tempt her.

  Her dad spent the weeks ferrying cups of tea and slices of toast up and down the stairs. If think-positive clichés and self-help quotes could heal, she’d have been leaping about with joy after day two. The only glimmer of hope came in the form of a message from Phil informing her that Keith had spent another couple of days at Arlington Road; still the thought that the materials needed to be paid for gnawed away in her stomach.

  She knew that even once the house was habitable again, she could not compete with iPads and Uggs? It felt hopeless. A year ago she would have pooh-poohed the materialism and said that the only things that mattered for her kids were her warm embrace and her unconditional love. Now, though, Leona’s initial reluctance to come to her and Naomi’s tears of apology replayed in her mind like a broken record and each time she went over it her spirits sank a little lower.

  Her dad knocked gingerly on the door and entered the room. ‘Morning, Rosie. It’s a lovely bright day and you need to get up and get outside. There are plenty worse off than you.’

  She glanced at him from the pillow, as if this reminder of how very fortunate she was could make the slightest bit of difference. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I want to go to sleep and never wake up. I want to disappear, like Laurel. I want to run away.

  He pulled the curtains and opened the window, letting the fresh breeze in and some of the sad, stale air out.

  ‘I’ve made you a doctor’s appointment. So, in your own time, get yourself together and I’ll run you down there,’ he said matter-of-factly, giving her no choice.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ she managed.

  ‘I know. But it’s not only about what you want, love. It’s about what you need. I’m your dad and this is what we’re going to do.’ He sounded uncharacteristically assertive.

  Her eyes followed him as he left the room. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

  The doctor was young, busy and distracted. He tapped his pen impatiently against his leg as he spoke; it was like his own private metronome pacing out his day.

  ‘I see that physically you are healing well. Lung function improved, skin less sore.’

  ‘Yes.’ She nodded, instinctively placing her fingertips on her face where the skin was damaged.

  ‘They will of course fade more in time. You were very lucky.’ He now used the pen as a pointer, directing it towards her.

  So I’ve been told, again and again, but I don’t feel very lucky.

  ‘Do you think you’re depressed?’ His eyes darted from the computer screen and back to her.

  ‘I might be.’ This half-admission felt more realistic.

  ‘Have you had any suicidal thoughts?’

  Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. ‘I sometimes think I would like to disappear.’

  ‘And do you ever think about how you might disappear?’ His tone was more impatient than sympathetic.

  She shook her head. It would be hard to explain that the level of thought required to plan her disappearance was currently beyond her.

  ‘I’d like to start you on anti-depressants, but you have to understand that they are not a quick fix: you won’t take them today and jump out of bed feeling happy tomorrow. They are a long-term strategy that will help in time. When you’re in the routine of taking them, we can monitor how they’re working, how you’re feeling and either change the medication or increase or lower the dosage. It’s not an exact science. But it will help you feel better in the long run, take the edge off, give you some equilibrium.’ Without waiting for a response, he reached for his prescription pad.

  ‘I don’t want to.’ She spoke clearly.

  ‘You don’t want to take tablets?’ He held his pen mid flourish.

  ‘I don’t want to get better,’ she clarified. ‘I don’t want the world to think I’m happy or coping, because I’m not. I want to be broken like this because it’s how I feel, like everything is pointless, because it is. Without my kids, my family, my home, everything is pointless.’

  The young, impatient doctor stopped tapping and looked at the photograph on his desk of a young woman holding a toddler, both of them smiling into
the camera. He was quiet, as if deep in thought.

  Her dad drove her back to the house in silence broken only by his occasional disappointed sigh. It seemed he too had been hoping she would be popping happy pills on the return journey. As she stared out of the window, she sensed him casting surreptitious glances at her.

  Shona rushed to the front door to meet them, alerted the moment her dad ratcheted the handbrake into place. ‘How did you get on?’ she asked eagerly.

  Rosie stared at her. Shona’s tone made her feel like a bag of rubbish that someone had forgotten to take out and was starting to stink. She lingered in the hallway. ‘I think the trouble is, I don’t want to feel better. It’s something to focus on until I get my kids back and we can go home. A reminder, if you like.’

  Shona looked from Rosie to her dad and back again. ‘But that’s not healthy, Rosie! Not at all. I know you’ve been through a lot, but you were always so full of sparkle – you lit up the room! You’d be a wonderful dancer.’ She twisted the scarf at her neck. ‘You can’t just give up, you have to fight! You have to get up and get out and go and grab life, no matter what that life looks like. You have to make the most of it!’

  ‘Shona, please!’ her dad interjected meekly. ‘It sounds like you’re pushing her and that might not be what she needs right now. We need to coax not push – that’s what families do.’

  ‘But that’s just it, I’m not her mother, I’m her friend.’

  No, you’re not my mother. That was Laurel and she didn’t want me either.

  ‘And I’m sorry, Roy, but it’s time she pulled herself together and moved forward. For her own good!’ Shona looked close to tears. ‘Look at her!’ She gestured. ‘How does letting her mope around help anything?’

  Rosie felt numb. She turned to look at her dad. ‘I’ll go get my things.’

  ‘No, Rosie. This is my house.’ This last point he directed at Shona. ‘You go when you’re ready.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant!’ Shona shouted, her fists clenched.

  The next two weeks felt like years. Rosie continued to hide away in the bedroom, restricting her visits downstairs and her walks around the block to when Shona was out on an errand or the two of them had gone to dance practice. She tried to be as quiet as she could; all she wanted was for this living nightmare to end.

  ‘Phone call, Rosie!’ her dad called up the stairs one morning.

  She brightened, longing to hear her babies’ voices; it was the one thing that fortified her. Swallowing her nerves, she left the bedroom, still fearful of having to interact with Shona.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered to her dad, taking the phone between her palms and watching as he crept into the sitting room and shut the door firmly behind him, giving her privacy of sorts.

  Pushing the phone into her ear, she struggled to make out the noise on the other end. ‘Hello?’

  It was a few seconds before she realised she was listening to the sound of crying.

  ‘Rosie,’ Phil sobbed, ‘I’ve fucked up.’

  ‘What? Are the girls okay?’ Her heart leapt at the thought that they might be hurt in some way. His lack of response sent her pulse racing. ‘Phil!’ she shouted. ‘Are the girls okay?’

  Her dad turned up the volume on the television in the adjoining room.

  ‘They’re fine. Fine. But it’s over. We’re coming home.’

  *

  The car tootled along the A377. Her possessions sat at her feet in a Bag for Life.

  ‘Bet you’re feeling nervous.’

  She looked at her dad. ‘I am a bit. Excited too, though.’

  ‘Of course.’ He nodded at the road ahead. ‘Shona’s not a bad person. She just gets wound up and I suppose a bit jealous.’

  She shrugged, finding it hard to discuss Shona or her behaviour. But her dad clearly wanted to get it off his chest.

  ‘Thing is, Rosie, I’ve never had anyone care about me enough to be jealous.’

  ‘I don’t think jealousy is the way to express love, Dad. I think...’ Kev’s words floated into her head. ‘I just wanted you to be happy, that’s how much I love you. You being happy is the single most important thing to me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I think it’s about freedom to make choices and knowing that no matter what those choices are, that person will still be there.’

  ‘Are you saying you’re going to forgive Phil?’

  ‘I honestly don’t know. I can’t think about it too much. If that makes sense.’

  ‘It does, love. Sometimes you just have to keep a lid on, keep the wheels turning.’ He glanced across at her. ‘Are you going to be okay?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so.’ She gave him a brief smile.

  ‘I think you’ll go back to him,’ he said.

  She sighed and twisted the thin gold band on the third finger of her left hand.

  ‘And I don’t want to interfere, but I will say this: don’t be in any rush, girl. Remember what you’ve been through. I’m not saying fight with him, life’s too short not to forgive, but don’t make a decision in haste. It’s too important, for you all.’

  ‘I won’t ever forget what I’ve been through, Dad, and I suppose I’ve learnt that there are no guarantees, ever, about anything. Even if you think something is forever, it probably isn’t.’

  ‘Your mum...’ He coughed. ‘She had many faults, but she always listened to that little voice of instinct. She followed her heart and that takes some courage, even if it hurts others along the way.’

  ‘Yeah, Phil followed his heart and look where that got him.’

  ‘I guess what I’m saying is, Shona’s right, even if she’s not very good at expressing it. Don’t be afraid to grab the future that’s right for you. You deserve happiness.’

  ‘Would you have taken Laurel back if she’d pitched up years later, wanting to pick up where she left off?’

  He looked over his shoulder, as if checking that they were alone. ‘In a heartbeat, at first,’ he whispered. ‘But then, years later? No. I never stopped loving her, but I stopped trusting her and that’s far harder to live with.’

  ‘I just want the girls back and I want them to be happy and I can’t really see beyond that.’ Rosie smiled at the prospect. ‘But thank you, Dad, for saying that, and thank you for being there when I needed you most.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s true, Rosie. I think you needed me a lot more than I realised when you were growing up.’

  ‘You can only ever do your best, Dad, and you did.’

  He nodded and kept his eyes on the road; they were a little misty.

  The Welcome to Woolacombe sign had never looked so vibrant. Rosie sat up and looked out as they drove up and over the hill. And there it was, her town! With the sea beyond and the long, wide beach that held so many memories.

  ‘Don’t you ever miss living here?’ She turned to her dad.

  ‘No. When I picture that time in my life, I can only see sadness. Even coming here now reminds me of all that. But visiting is okay.’

  ‘The girls would like to see more of you, you know. When we’re settled, please come down, and bring Shona too, of course.’

  ‘She’s a funny old fish, but she means well, you know.’ He cleared his throat.

  ‘I know, Dad.’

  ‘She never had children, and she was an only child, so she’s not that good around people, really. But oh, Rosie, when she gets on that floor...’ He paused. ‘Her face changes! It’s like she’s lit from within. I could dance with her all night, if only my creaky knees would allow.’

  ‘She makes you happy.’ Rosie smiled. She was glad for her dad. He deserved to find joy.

  ‘She does. She’s kind too, and she loves you.’

  Rosie nodded, awkward at the topic. Roy continued, ‘she might not always know how to show it, but she does. Do you know she won a few grand last year, dancing?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Yep, we thought about taking a cruise, rumbaing under the sta
rs!’

  ‘Sounds lovely, Dad.’ She smiled, picturing just that.

  Roy took a deep breath. ‘Yep. But instead, she has transferred it into Keith’s account, for materials, for the house. And then when you get sorted, you can pay her back, bit by bit, whatever suits. We’re in no rush for that cruise, got everything we need at home really.’

  ‘Dad!’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I don’t know what to say! I can’t believe it! Tell her thank you!’ she managed, her voice thick with emotion.

  ‘You give her a ring, tell her yourself.’ He nodded.

  ‘I will,’ she sniffed, ‘I will.’ She was quite overcome.

  *

  As the car pulled into Mo and Keith’s driveway, she felt exhausted at the prospect of what lay behind the door. Just focus on the kids, that’s your job, that’s all you have to do... It saddened her that regardless of what happened next, things between her and Mo had been changed forever. She could close her eyes now and recall Mo’s singsong tone: ‘Well, Gerri was as pleased as punch with the little matinee jacket I’d knitted!’

  ‘I won’t come in, if that’s okay?’

  ‘Of course, Dad. Thank you for bringing me home – or back, anyway. I don’t know where home is, really. Not while I still can’t live in Arlington Road.’ She smiled at him, trying to lighten her nerves.

  ‘Well, there’s a big old world out there, Rosie, and you can make a home anywhere you choose.’

  She reached across and kissed her dad goodbye.

  As she stood at the front door, she could hear the girls’ shouts and laughter coming from within. It was the sound of chaos and it made her spirits soar. She knocked lightly. Kayleigh answered the door and Rosie immediately felt her heart sink.

  ‘All right, Rosie?’ Kayleigh had two high spots of colour on each cheek. She was clearly happy to be observing the drama unfolding at Highthorne.

  Rosie nodded and looked down the hallway, already seek-ing out her children.

  ‘It’s all kicking off!’ Kayleigh pulled a face and hunched her narrow shoulders, as if the whole episode was highly amusing. She leant forward conspiratorially. ‘Is it true that Kev fancies you? Ross was talking about something Keith said?’