The Wife's Choice: An emotional and totally unputdownable family drama

by Emma Davies

  ‘It wasn’t that, I didn’t want to upset you.’

  ‘Hugh, this was twelve years ago. And you’ve been systematically lying to me since. It’s gone way beyond not wanting to upset me. How do you think I feel now?’

  He holds my look for a second before glancing away.

  ‘Ah… I see, so I was never supposed to find out. I get it. And of course the last thirty thousand pounds we owe should have been conveniently covered by my lump-sum redundancy payment. Well that explains why the money didn’t go straight into my account like it ought to have done. What were you going to tell me, Hugh? I’m interested to know how you thought you were going to explain that one away.’

  He shrugs. ‘I’d have thought of something.’

  It infuriates me that even now he isn’t going to apologise. But my anger is quickly turning to sorrow. I can feel it building. I swallow hard, focusing on a spot on the wall. ‘Well, I’ve taken steps to ensure that whatever is decided over the use of the money, it will be a decision we take together. It should never have been any other way.’

  His eyes swivel to mine. ‘What have you done?’ he demands.

  ‘Moved the money into my own account.’

  It’s as if the very room itself is holding its breath. I’ve never done anything like this before and my courage is almost gone. I have to remind myself what it is I’m fighting for. Hugh is angrier than I’ve ever seen him, but even now he still thinks he can have his way.

  ‘And just in case you were wondering,’ I add. ‘It’s in a new account. One you don’t have the details to, so there’ll be no moving it back either, not without my say-so. Nearly twenty-six years I worked at Harringtons. Turned up every day and worked my socks off trying to make the department the best it could be. So that money is mine, Hugh, I earned every penny of it. And I intend to have a say in what it’s used for.’

  His eyes lock on mine and I see the moment the arrogance dies, the moment when he realises that his plan isn’t going to go the way he wanted it to. He suddenly slumps, and I see fear in his eyes now too. It makes me feel more sad than ever.

  ‘But what about the debt, Alys? It has to be paid and now you’re not working at all and—’ He puts a hand to his face. ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Yes, it seems like you might need to discuss this with me after all, Hugh. Perhaps we need to finally start talking so that we can decide what to do. Plus, of course, if you remember, I may well be back in employment in a few months’ time.’

  ‘Yes… of course that is good news. So we can still use your redundancy money to settle the mortgage and—’

  ‘No.’

  His face turns suddenly scarlet. ‘What do you mean, no?’

  I don’t know what to say. On the face of it, using my redundancy money to pay off the last of the mortgage would make sound financial sense, but there’s a little voice at the back of my head that’s refusing to cooperate. It’s telling me that it has sound advice of its own and it’s very insistent. Keep it in case you need it, it’s saying. Otherwise you’ll have nothing. And despite my best intentions, I’m listening to it. After all, I moved the money into an account of my own, didn’t I?

  ‘What I was going to say was that I’m sure if we make some economies we can carry on paying the mortgage until I’m earning again. It just seems such a shame to squander this lump sum now that we have it. We could use it for all sorts of things.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know, Hugh. I haven’t really thought about it yet.’

  He nods, his eyes raking my face for any trace that I might not be telling the truth. ‘But, in any case, you’ve put the money where I can’t get hold of it.’ He gives me a tight smile. ‘And you accused me of keeping things from you. New job, new dress, new bank account…’

  ‘Hugh, you remortgaged our house and didn’t tell me, twelve years ago… You engineered things so I was made redundant… Both rather more important things than applying for a job, or buying a new dress, don’t you think?’

  He leans in towards me. ‘Yes, but I told you that everything I’ve done has been for a good reason. For us, to try to make our lives better. And I never lied to you… I may have kept certain things from you in order to protect you, but you’re just as bad, you’ve been keeping secrets too.’

  A wave of shame washes over me. He’s right. And there’s a very fine line between keeping secrets and telling lies. But which of those am I guilty of? I told Sam about Esme without Hugh’s knowledge and I haven’t exactly been truthful about meeting him. I’ve kept the truth from Esme for all these years, against my better judgement, and now I can feel the lies I’m going to have to tell building and building, their pressure threatening to swamp me. Yet all I ever wanted was to do the right thing. I should tell Hugh, but I can’t. If I do it will all be over. I take in a deep breath, trying to calm myself. To think about what words I’m going to say.

  ‘Then what do we do?’ I ask.

  But Hugh has no answer. And finally he can see what it is he’s done. And what the future might hold. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asks, quietly, defeated, awaiting his fate.

  ‘Nothing, for the moment,’ I reply. ‘I’m having a hard time adjusting to the fact that my marriage isn’t what I thought it was. That my husband isn’t the man I thought he was either. I’m hurt more than anything. Hurt and disillusioned. We’ve been married for twenty-three years, Hugh. But if we want that to continue, we have to make some changes, we have to change. I don’t want the rest of our marriage to be the same.’

  I let out the breath I seem to be holding and, taking another, feel it fill my lungs. ‘So, things will have to be different. As far as the debt goes, we have options. We could sell this place. We don’t need a house this big, especially now that Esme is sorted; she’ll be thinking about having her own place at some point. And everything else… we’ll just have to take a day at a time.’ Because I’m as much to blame as he is. ‘But we’ll do it together, through talking, through sharing, and being honest with one another.’

  Hugh doesn’t answer but there’s the smallest of nods. He must hate this – that I seem to be calling the shots – but I didn’t want this either.

  All I wanted was what I’d fooled myself into thinking we had: a partnership.

  20

  By the time I’ve showered and dressed, Esme is already downstairs, albeit still in her PJs. She’s nestled into the armchair that sits in the corner of the kitchen, legs crossed on the seat, phone in one hand and a bowl of cereal cradled in her lap. The sight of her blue fluffy slipper-socks tugs at my heart. They’re such a staple part of her lounging wardrobe that seeing her in them is so familiar and yet there’s nothing normal about this situation at all. I’ve changed that. I’ve set into motion a chain of events which are now freewheeling out of control and I’m not sure what it will take to bring them to a halt.

  ‘Morning, love. I didn’t think you’d be awake yet,’ I say.

  She looks up from her phone, pulling a face. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she says, giving me a weak smile. ‘Too many things on my mind.’

  I nod, not knowing where to start. How to even begin this conversation. Perhaps if I—

  ‘Tell me about Sam,’ she blurts out. ‘Why don’t I know about him?’

  This is so hard for her but I’m woefully unprepared for hearing his name.

  I take a seat at the table, my mouth dry. ‘May I ask you a question first?’ I say. ‘But it’s not a trick one, answer whatever you honestly feel.’

  There’s a wariness in her eyes but she gives her consent, spooning in another mouthful of cereal.

  ‘What do you think of him? Sam, I mean…’

  She stops chewing for a couple of seconds and then carries on, her eyes never leaving my face until she’s swallowed the remains. ‘I don’t see what that has to do with anything.’

  ‘No… no, of course not. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you.’ I take a deep breath, just as Esme lets out a sigh.

  �
�Are you having an affair with him, Mum? Because if you are then—’

  ‘No! I’m not… Esme, I swear to you, it’s nothing like that.’

  She dips her head and her shoulders sag even lower. ‘Then what, Mum?’ she says, looking at me again and I can see that she’s close to tears. ‘Because this is really hard to take in, you know. I came home last night to find you and Dad arguing, him accusing you of having an affair, and then I find out that you and Sam were actually married before. So Dad must think something is going on. And why didn’t I know anything about this?’

  ‘Esme, I’m just as upset about all of this as you, believe me. What happened last night shouldn’t have, plain and simple. And I’m furious that it means we’re having a conversation like this, instead of the one I wanted, which was very different. But I promise I’m not lying to you. I never have and I’m not about to start now. So I will explain, properly, if you’ll let me…’

  A tear slips out and rolls down Esme’s cheek.

  ‘Oh, sweetheart…’ I’m by her side in an instant, kneeling on the floor, reaching for her hands. It’s an awkward mixture of need and want all muddled up by the positions we’re both in but, after a few seconds, Esme pulls away and plonks her bowl of cereal onto the table beside her. She uncurls her legs and leans forward so that we can hug. It’s still an uncomfortable position for both of us, but it’s a start, and I’m conscious that Esme still needs to keep a little space between us.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mum.’

  I push her hair away from her face. ‘Don’t,’ I say. ‘You don’t need to be sorry.’ I look at her tired face, overcome with emotion and anxiety. ‘Oh, Esme, how did all this get to be so complicated? It should never have been this way…’ I hold her look for a few seconds more and then adjust my position so that I’m sitting on the floor facing her, my own legs crossed in front of me. ‘Shall I tell you?’ I say. ‘Start at the beginning?’

  She nods as I settle myself, trying to find a more comfortable position. I still don’t know how to tell her all this, I’ve let her down so badly. I promised her I wouldn’t lie to her, but how many years have I been doing this, keeping secrets from her? Even now… Am I really ready to tell her everything? More importantly, is she ready to hear it? I close my eyes for a second and draw in a breath.

  ‘I was very young when I first met Sam. Except he wasn’t called Sam then, I knew him as Tom. Thomas Samuel Walker to be exact. I’d just started my first job, fresh from university, and the last thing I was expecting was to fall in love—’

  ‘Wait… so he was called Tom? He changed his name?’ She seems to find that fascinating. ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘Because he wanted a fresh start. To put the accident and everything he went through afterwards behind him and start again. It was an incredibly difficult time, but it explains why I didn’t know who he was, Esme; the name Sam Walker meant nothing to me. And until I met him I had no idea that the man who was behind The Green Room was the same man I married all those years ago.’

  Esme nods, thinking. ‘So you weren’t with him then, when he changed his name?’

  ‘No…’ I trail off, my thoughts threatening to overwhelm me. I clear my throat. ‘Maybe we should backtrack a little,’ I say, trying to get my emotions under control. ‘As I said, I met Sam just after I finished my studies. I was looking for a job to tide me over and a friend of mine recommended me to your dad. He was managing a department at Harringtons. Not here though, at their Cambridge branch. I got the job and so that’s where I met him and on my first day working there, I met Sam too. He and your dad were also friends, you see, and—’ I stop as she holds up a hand, but then she frowns.

  ‘No, sorry, go on.’

  ‘That’s kind of it,’ I reply. ‘We fell in love, got married and—’

  ‘I don’t want the detail,’ she says. ‘This is just too weird, that you were actually married to Theo’s dad.’ She stares at me incredulously. ‘I can’t get my head round it.’

  ‘I know. But, really, in itself there’s nothing odd about it. It’s only because you know Theo and Nancy that it seems strange. Plenty of other people have second marriages, your uncle for one…’

  ‘Yes, I know. But Aunty Louise died, Mum, that’s hardly the same.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Does it matter why the marriage broke up? When Uncle Ed married Tash we still had to get used to a new person in our lives, but now we wouldn’t want him to be without her.’

  ‘Yes… I guess.’

  I watch her face carefully, but she seems to accept what I’m saying.

  ‘So what happened then, why didn’t you stay together?’

  I look out the window, staring at the garden outside. ‘Because of the accident,’ I say simply. ‘Because Sam couldn’t bear for me to be around and so he ended things.’

  Esme frowns. ‘I don’t understand,’ she says. ‘So you were already married when it happened?’

  I nod, trying to push away the memories crowding my head. ‘It was the single worst night of my life,’ I reply. ‘New Year’s Eve. Sam had been working and was involved in a car accident on the way home. He—’

  ‘Was drunk?’

  I stare at her. ‘No… Nothing like that. No one knows for certain what caused the accident. Sam was hit by a lorry, but the driver of it couldn’t remember what happened either. The police think someone ran a red light but Sam hadn’t been drinking, even though a few of them had stayed on after the restaurant closed to see in the New Year. He never drank when he was driving…’ I break off as a sudden thought distracts me.

  ‘Sorry… I…’ I drag myself back to the present. ‘You’ve seen for yourself what the result of the accident was. Sam wasn’t even expected to live, let alone walk again. I didn’t care. I was just glad he was still alive… Except that, as he began to get better, he decided that looking after an invalid wasn’t the life he wanted for me and so he ended our relationship. He refused to see me, and then he moved away… There was nothing I could do, I tried but…’ I trail off, giving Esme a weak smile. ‘Anyway, I never saw him again, at least not until the day I bumped into him at Scarlett’s party.’

  Esme has been listening quietly, her face growing progressively more still. It is now full of empathy. ‘But that’s awful,’ she says. ‘What did you do?’

  I shrug. ‘Nothing much I could do except get on with things,’ I reply. ‘Fortunately, not that long after… your dad… well he got an offer of promotion, a manager’s job at Harringtons, here in Norwich, and so he offered me a job too. It would be a new start at least and we’d always been friends so it seemed… sensible. Actually, I jumped at the chance, Esme, I didn’t really think about it too hard. I thought what I needed was the chance to get away from all the memories and although it was very hard at first, our friendship gradually became something else, as these things do, and we fell in love. I think you know the rest.’

  Esme uncrosses her legs, wriggling back in her chair. She stares down at her lap for a moment, deep in thought before looking back at me.

  ‘Sam must have loved you very much,’ she says.

  I look at her quizzically, pulse quickening.

  ‘Because he let you go,’ she clarifies. ‘Everybody knows that – if you love someone you let them go. If they come back to you then they were always yours. If they don’t, then they never were.’

  ‘Except that Sam didn’t want me to return, Esme. In fact, he took great pains to ensure that I never did.’

  ‘So you think he changed his name because he didn’t want you to find him?’

  ‘Possibly, but I think—’

  ‘To protect you?’

  I swallow. ‘Esme, I think you might be over-romanticising this a little. Because clearly all Sam did was send me away, he didn’t let me go and he certainly had no intention of me finding my way back.’

  ‘Except that you did.’ She stares at me, her mouth a round ‘O’ of surprise as she realises what she’s just said.

  My face is betraying
me. A slow heat is creeping up my neck, flooding onto my cheeks. Because Sam and I always joked that we were meant to be together, that it was fated and that whatever happened, nothing could ever change that.

  ‘And I thought you said that Dad and Sam were friends? And yet… Presumably he knows who Sam is now as well so…’ She pauses, quickly adding up two plus two. ‘Why does he think you’re having an affair?’ Her eyes widen. ‘Oh my God, you are…’

  I hold up my hands. ‘No, no, I’m not. Esme, I swear to you. You have to believe me, I would never do anything like that.’ I’m going to have to tell her, but I can’t bear for her to think badly of me. ‘What’s happened is that I’ve seen Sam on a couple of occasions, but… but,’ I stress, ‘it was entirely innocent, just two people catching up on twenty-odd years of life in between then and now. We were both shell-shocked seeing one another after all this time and we could hardly just ignore it, there’s a lot to talk about. But when I told your dad he jumped to conclusions and, well…’

  ‘So you do love Dad?’

  This is killing me. How can I possibly tell her how I really feel? Especially when I don’t even know myself.

  ‘Yes, sweetheart, of course I do.’ I pause a moment. ‘I’m angry with him right now – furious, actually – for upsetting you last night, let alone for what he said to me, but we’ve had a good marriage.’

  She thinks for a moment, taking in what I’ve said. She’s spent a lifetime living with us. Aside from the years while she was studying, she’s been under our roof, as close to us as anyone could be. I guess now is the moment I find out whether I managed to paper over the cracks well enough, to fool her the way I’ve been fooling myself.

  ‘But Sam was your first love.’

  ‘Yes he was.’ My hand is resting on the carpet and I splay my fingers idly, feeling the pile move between them, back and forth, back and forth. ‘And Esme, I won’t pretend that I didn’t love him a great deal, I did. I was heartbroken when our marriage ended and continued to be so for a long while after. But life moves on, and a lot of years have gone by since then.’ Even though it feels as if it was yesterday.