The Second Wife

by Sheryl Browne

  Emily wasn’t her mother. Someone was lying to her. Her? Or him? Nicole looked at Richard, who was raking his hand through his hair in frustration, and then back to Olivia. ‘When did your mother die?’ she asked her bluntly.

  Olivia looked startled. ‘Eighteen years ago,’ she answered, swapping puzzled glances with Richard as he handed her some kitchen roll. ‘I was young.’ Dabbing at her eyes, she turned back to Nicole. ‘I can’t really know how you feel, but I can sympathise. I’m truly so sorry about your mother, Nicole. You must be devastated.’

  Nicole scrutinised her. Olivia thought she was asking because it was relevant to her own loss, rather than imagining some sort of conspiracy against her, which sounded ludicrous, even in her own mind.

  ‘I’ll go back up to my room.’ Olivia said, after several seconds of awkward silence.

  Richard stepped quickly after her as she turned to the hall. ‘You don’t have to, Liv,’ he said, exasperation obvious in his tone.

  ‘I know.’ Glancing back, Olivia offered him a small smile. ‘But I want to. I’m okay, Dad, honestly. I’ve promised a friend I would call her back about a flat-share anyway.’

  Richard hesitated, plainly not knowing what to do for the best.

  ‘Sit down and talk,’ Olivia urged him. ‘Nicole needs you right now.’

  Watching her go, Richard shook his head, a kaleidoscope of emotion in his eyes as they came back to Nicole’s. The impatience she’d thought she would never see there was all too apparent now. ‘Do you need me, Nicole?’ he asked her, his throat tight.

  Alone in their bedroom five minutes later, having made excuses to come up and wash her face, Nicole retrieved her unfinished letter to Becky from her bag. She could hear Richard’s muted tones as he talked to Olivia in her room, checking his daughter really was all right. Again, Nicole couldn’t blame him. He would need to get his own emotions in check, too, she imagined before facing his volatile wife.

  Reading the letter, she deliberated whether she should start it over, pretend that her world wasn’t crumbling around her. Would Becky, a single mum who worked full time, really want to contend with all this, to worry about it from a distance? Nicole was disinclined to post it as it was. Yet something was compelling her to send the unedited version. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t end here; that there would be some kind of awful confrontation. God knew where that might end. Nicole had no intention of backing down, not this time. Whatever happened, she needed to confide in someone, if only for confirmation she wasn’t wicked, uncaring or mad. Becky would understand why she needed that. It was only Becky, her dear friend, who wouldn’t judge her.

  Olivia was in a terrible state when we got back, full of apologies. She more or less said the attempt she’d made on her life was because of my doubting her and the rift between us that followed. Richard obviously thought so too. He told me it was all in my mind: her vendetta against me, her manipulation of him, her having anything to do with Lydia’s death.

  I think I came close to hating him when he said that. But now, reading this back, realising how it sounds, I’m confused, wondering whether it might be. That I’ve been so damaged by my marriage to the misogynist, I’m seeing everything as manipulative or controlling. I’m not sure I believe that though – or Olivia. Rather than lay down the gauntlet and bring things to a head with Richard – which I suspect is what she wants – I’ve decided instead to act contrite. I need to marshal my defences, I think – quietly.

  I’ll write again with further news, my lovely. Please don’t worry about me. I promise to remain on my guard. Hopefully we’ll see each other soon and we can crack open a bottle and laugh about all of this. Oh, to do that: laugh like we did when we were young. If only…

  Take care of you, sweetheart.

  Until we meet, all my love and more.

  Nicole. X

  THIRTY-NINE

  OLIVIA

  PREVIOUS YEAR – DECEMBER

  Richard had left the bedroom door ajar, so Olivia loitered on the landing. Eavesdropping on the woman’s inane wittering somewhat relieved the tedium of having her around.

  ‘Are you off out?’ she heard Richard warily ask his troublesome wife.

  ‘Just to Isobel’s to check on Bouncer,’ Nicole answered timidly. No doubt she was feeling contrite and riddled with guilt, contemplating the awful trauma she’d put his daughter through. ‘He’ll be wondering where I am.’

  Oh, please. Olivia rolled her eyes sky high. Hello? It’s a dog, sweetie, not a fucking child. God, honestly. She loved Wanderer, but Olivia didn’t imagine he was human. The woman was so desperate to be loved she’d even settle for her mangy mongrel’s mindless attempts at affection.

  ‘Do you need to?’ Richard asked her. ‘This evening, I mean. I’ve just rung and spoken to her husband. Isobel has taken Bouncer out for a long walk, apparently. They’re obviously looking after him well. We need to talk, Nicole. Properly. Just the two of us. We have to clear the air. Be honest with each other and—’

  ‘Why did you tell me Emily was Olivia’s mother?’ she asked over him.

  ‘Sorry?’ Richard answered, sounding confused.

  ‘Emily. You told me Olivia was devastated when she died.’

  Richard laughed, a short disbelieving laugh. ‘Yes, and so she was.’

  ‘But I thought…’ Nicole faltered. ‘You implied that you’d lost your wife and—’

  ‘Implied?’ Richard now sounded bewildered. ‘I did lose my wife, Nicole.’

  Nicole didn’t speak for a second. ‘But I said Olivia must have been devastated when her mother died, and you…’ She trailed off, obviously attempting to unscramble her muddled little brain. ‘You must have been married before Emily and… I’m confused, Richard. I don’t understand.’

  ‘You and me both,’ Richard said, a despairing edge now to his voice.

  ‘I thought Emily was her mother, Richard,’ Nicole babbled on. ‘That she’d lost her more recently, that she might still be struggling with her death and that might be why she resented me. Don’t you see?’

  ‘No, Nicole I don’t see,’ Richard said bluntly. ‘We’ve been through all this. Olivia doesn’t resent you, or at least she didn’t.’ He sighed in exasperation. ‘Look, Nicole, I didn’t say – or “imply” – that Emily was Olivia’s mother. As far as I recall, you asked me how Olivia coped when she died. I told you as it was. I never said Olivia was Emily’s daughter.’

  There was another long pause. ‘Well, did I?’ he asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘No,’ Nicole answered guardedly, ‘but…’

  ‘I said I’d had previous relationships. I never claimed to be a saint,’ Richard said, with another long sigh. ‘She left me, Olivia’s mother, I did mention this, but… You are confused, Nicole,’ he went on more kindly. ‘It’s perfectly understandable after all you’ve been through.’

  Another silence followed, in which Nicole was undoubtedly soul-searching, examining her conscience and coming to the conclusion that she was every bit as vile as Olivia had hinted she was.

  ‘She thought I didn’t care about what happened to her,’ she said eventually, sounding mortified. ‘She really thought I didn’t believe her, didn’t she? That I was trying to harm her in some way.’

  ‘It’s not your fault, Nicole,’ Richard said, his tone reassuring. ‘We’ve all made mistakes, miscommunicated – not saying how we were feeling, possibly for fear of upsetting each other. Try not to feel guilty about any of this. It won’t help.’

  Well, that would make sure she did feel guilty – as guilty as hell, and so she should. Olivia nodded piously.

  ‘I alienated her.’ Nicole’s response was tearful and muffled. He must be folding her into his manly arms, the needy cow.

  ‘Come to bed, Nicole,’ Richard said softly. ‘Lie with me. We don’t have to make love if you don’t want to. I just want to be close to you.’

  Urgh. This Olivia really did not want to listen to. Did he have to be so sick-makingly c
aring? It was enough to make a person bloody suicidal. Hello? Devastated daughter out here in need of comforting.

  It had gone quiet now. Olivia sucked in a breath, an inch away from intervening. But no. She stopped, her hand hovering over the door handle. She needed to bring this whole thing to a swift end, she realised, and there was only one sure-fire way to do that.

  Determined, Olivia went quietly back to her room.

  FORTY

  NICOLE

  CURRENT YEAR – FEBRUARY

  ‘It’s a nice day for it,’ Richard observed, pulling up in the car park that allowed access to a remote vantage point popularly used for viewing the River Severn bore. The tidal conditions weren’t such that the waves would be able to form, but the surrounding landscape and wide, tumultuous sky made it the perfect place to capture the constantly shifting moods of the water.

  ‘Perfect,’ Nicole agreed, glancing out of her window. The weather was mild for February – ideal for painting. Since Christmas, which they’d hardly acknowledged with her mother’s death, followed by the funeral, hanging like a shadow over them, she was finding her time alone, with nothing but the elements around her, quite cathartic. Some of the watercolour studies she undertaken, out alone in the crisp winter air, had made wonderful bases for oil-based paintings, inspiring her to spend more time outdoors painting in her preferred medium. And when the weather didn’t allow, she could use the room Isobel had secured for her at the village hall and paint until her heart was content. It was the best of both worlds really. She would that her heart was truly content.

  Turning back to Richard, she offered him a small smile, wishing dearly that they could go back before the day they’d vowed to stay together forever, which was when events had started to conspire against them. Richard was trying to make things right between them, as attentive and caring as he’d always been, thus his offering to drive her here while her car was being serviced.

  Nicole still doubted Olivia’s explanation of her attempted suicide, heart-rending though it had been. She was more inclined to believe it was a conscious manipulation of her father. Richard had assured her that she shouldn’t hold herself responsible for Olivia’s actions, but there was something in the way he looked at her sometimes – an uncertainty in his eyes, a disillusionment almost – that hurt, more than he would ever know.

  ‘You will be careful not to go to near to the edge, won’t you?’ Richard asked, worry etching his features as he reached to brush a strand of unruly hair from her face. Such a tender gesture, demonstrating, as he often did, that he still loved her. She so wanted to feel safe with him, totally safe, to be able to share her innermost feelings, as she once had. Why couldn’t she bring herself to now? How was it she’d fallen from the dizzy heights of happiness to feeling unworthy all over again?

  It was partly to do with her past, Nicole supposed, and the fact that she’d always felt that way to a degree. She needed to alter her thinking. Stop undervaluing herself and pessimistically waiting for the worst to happen. It wouldn’t, unless by her very inability to believe in him, to believe that she was worthy, she made it happen.

  ‘I will,’ she assured him, covering his hand with hers and turning her cheek to his touch.

  ‘The tide’s high,’ he said, his expression wary as he nodded towards the water.

  ‘Because the river’s in flood,’ she pointed out. Like her heart, she thought: flooded with her love for him, and conversely with a fear of losing him. Her emotions seemed to be in a constant state of flux lately, like the river’s tidal ebb and flow. ‘You could come with me, if you like. Walk awhile?’ she ventured, thinking it would be nice to spend some time together, talking about inconsequential things rather than the catalogue of catastrophes that had plagued them since they’d married.

  ‘I’d like to…’ Richard glanced through the windscreen, as if considering. ‘Unfortunately, I can’t.’ He sighed, looking apologetically back at her, as two walkers ambled by. ‘Maybe another time. I have a business property to view, and Liv wants to check out that studio apartment we found online. She seems really keen on this one. You never know: ours might be a house for just two people very soon.’

  God, Nicole hoped so.

  ‘In any case, I wouldn’t want to interrupt the creative flow,’ Richard added, his mouth curving into an indulgent smile as he leaned to brush her lips with his. ‘Just promise me you’ll be careful. You’re not that strong a swimmer, Nicole.’

  Seeing the concern in his eyes, Nicole felt a surge of warmth thaw the perpetual chill that had settled inside her. He would be worried, she knew, because she had ventured too close to the edge once, when Bouncer had charged into the water after his ball.

  ‘I promise.’ She smiled, glad that he cared enough to be so concerned, sad, for him, that he would probably always worry about losing the people he loved. Whether she’d meant it or not, in Richard’s mind, Olivia had attempted to take her own life. Emily had succeeded, leaving him with sense of foreboding that would no doubt haunt him.

  She’d wanted to capture this scene to complement the canvases she’d already decided were good enough to exhibit at the village hall, but try as she might to lose herself in the landscape, her mind kept wandering. As much as she tried to put it down to misunderstanding, she simply couldn’t fathom why Richard had never mentioned he’d had a relationship before Emily. He’d been vague about it, once it was obvious she had misunderstood, saying no more than the woman had left him for another man and that she’d had no interest in being a mother. That had seemed very odd to Nicole. But then, perhaps the pregnancy hadn’t been planned. Perhaps she hadn’t even realised she was pregnant. Nicole’s hand strayed to the soft round of her tummy.

  Her thoughts drifted to her own mother – the woman who’d given birth to her and tried, in her own way, to care for her. They might have become friends, if only Nicole had stopped looking back. She would never forgive herself for refusing to forgive Lydia. Now, she had accepted that, by very nature of being human, she could never have been perfect. She couldn’t stop imagining how lonely and scared she must have felt as her life ebbed away. Had Emily been lonely, she wondered now? When she’d felt her life was no longer worth living, had she been having the kind of day where thoughts made no sense and tears came for no reason, where the world was suddenly flat and grey and colourless? Dark days. Nicole had crawled through them recently, wondering what the point was. She felt stronger now. Her life had colour and meaning. She had a reason to live, if only she could stop being fearful of what the future might bring. Of Olivia and what she might be capable of.

  Her behaviour of late had been tolerable. Still, though, Nicole felt she was watching her, waiting, coiled like a snake ready to strike. She was sure the war that had been waged against her wasn’t yet over. She couldn’t make herself believe that it was all because of that one single event on her wedding day. Nor, if she were totally honest, could she make herself believe that Richard hadn’t been able to see some of Olivia’s calculated behaviour. Perhaps he’d simply been blinkered by his love for her. Still, unsure just how dangerous the girl could be, Nicole was treading carefully, biding her time, as she had promised herself she would. For the sake of her physical and mental health, she’d worked at avoiding anything that might be confrontational, all sweetness and light, like Olivia pretended to be. She counted the days, reminding herself it wouldn’t be long until Olivia was living her own life and not dictating theirs. Because she was, still. Bouncer not being where he should be – lying on the hall rug, waiting for her key in the lock – was evidence of that. Nicole still wondered about the asthma attacks, which miraculously seemed to have ceased. She thanked God that Richard had finally agreed that getting Olivia her own apartment was a good idea. She would be gone soon, and then Bouncer would be able to come home and live safely in a house with ‘just two people’ who loved him.

  FORTY-ONE

  REBECCA

  PRESENT

  ‘Richard found her?’ She stared at Is
obel, incredulous. He’d found Emily suffocated in her own car? He didn’t talk about Nicole’s death or his valiant attempts to save her –Rebecca had thought he found it too painful – but why would he not at least mention something so profoundly affecting as finding someone dead, either to her or Nicole, which he hadn’t as far as Rebecca knew.

  ‘Apparently,’ Isobel confirmed. ‘It was in the local papers. Richard wasn’t well known in the village then, but obviously people felt for him. It was just so awful.’

  Rebecca eyed her quizzically. ‘It was suicide though?’

  ‘Definitely. She’d driven to the car park of the building she worked in. Taken a hosepipe with her, it seemed. It’s just…’ Stopping, Isobel knitted her brow. ‘I don’t know. I can’t help wondering about the coincidences now.’

  Of which there were many, Rebecca realised, her throat feeling suddenly parched.

  ‘Obviously, Emily was depressed. Nicole was, too; she confided in me that she had days when the cogs of her brain just didn’t seem to be working. Dark days, she called them, when everything seemed blacker than black. I think that was reflected in her paintings. I suppose I worry that it does all appear a little odd.’

  Rebecca nodded slowly, trying to digest this latest piece of information about Emily. She needed to speak to Richard. Now. ‘I should go,’ she said, checking her watch and attempting a smile. ‘I’m sorry to dash off, but I have somewhere I need to be.’

  ‘Wait.’ Isobel caught her arm. ‘The painting I mentioned…’ She hesitated, her eyes scanning Rebecca, appearing to measure her. ‘I think you should see it.’