The First Wife: An unputdownable page turner with a twist

by Jill Childs

  Once she’d settled, I went back to the window. For a moment, the swimmer disappeared. I narrowed my eyes, straining to glimpse a flailing arm in the waves. There! Still in the water but much nearer the shore now. In danger of being swept on to the rocks.

  Downstairs, I grabbed boots and coat and ran out into the storm. The wind hit me at once. The gusts were powerful and erratic, swirling in from the sea but shifting direction at times with sudden squalls which threatened to knock me to the ground.

  I struggled down the cliff path, leaning into the rocks as much as I could and trying to shelter in the clefts and crevices along the way. Below, the waves dashed against the foot of the cliff, surging and sucking, a mass of foam and swirling water.

  White arms flashed as the figure swam, thrashing its way desperately through the dark, cold water. Now and then, the bobbing head disappeared altogether beneath the surface and my chest contracted with fear. After a terrifying pause, it reappeared, further along the coast, deep in the swell. I stopped, one hand clutching the rockface and waved my other hand as vigorously as I dared without losing my balance, trying to signal.

  I had to risk a dizzying climb round the exposed rockface to reach the next section of sea where the shingle stretched. The rocks were slippery with spray and my movements were clumsy. My hands scraped on the rock, stinging with salt. I tried to call: ‘Hey! Hey!’ but my voice disappeared at once, dispersed on the howling wind.

  Once I rounded the bluff, I clambered down the far side, almost falling to the shingle. I lay for a moment, my limbs shaking, the wet of the beach soaking through my trousers. My feet, inside my boots, were already sodden.

  The figure reached the shallows at much the same time. I waded out into the water, battling to stay upright, buffeted by the wind and the swell, my boots rapidly filling, my feet numb with cold. The head glistened in the water. I reached out an arm and at the same time, a wave caught me and knocked me backwards. Swirling water, clouded with foam, filled my nose and mouth. Cold, limp fingers brushed my cheek and I clawed at them in panic, repulsed. Seaweed.

  Strong hands grasped me under my armpits, turned me briskly the right way up again and propelled me towards the shore. I coughed seawater out of in my mouth and tried to shake open my eyes, my body suddenly exhausted by the shock of the cold and the force of the wind and waves. I stumbled, failing to get my footing on the shifting shingle. My rescuer pushed me forward up the beach and let me fall with a thump onto my back.

  Caroline loomed over me. Her voice bellowed through the gale: ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  She was encased in a black wetsuit which shone with water. She shook her head like a dog and water droplets flew from her hair. She laughed then and her teeth glistened and there was a wildness in her face which frightened me, something wolfish in her strength, her joy at the raging elements. I shrank back against the stones and watched as she strode past me, climbing the steep path with ease, leaving me to gather what little strength I had and stumble up behind her.

  When I finally reached the house, there was no sign of Caroline or her car. I checked on Lucy – still fast asleep – then stood for a long time under a hot shower, trying to stop shivering. I’d made a fool of myself, of course I had. I thought of the hard look in Caroline’s eyes as she looked down at me, there was pity there, and a little bit of disgust too. I suddenly wondered if maybe that’s how it had always been, since we were girls.

  Of course, she knew the currents here. Of course, she was a strong swimmer. If anyone needed rescuing, it wasn’t her, it was me.

  I blinked in the steam. No wonder Lucy had been so afraid. She must have known it was her mother and been terrified she was drowning. I stepped finally out of the shower to dry myself and dress. Lucy would soon be awake.

  What was I doing here? I pottered miserably round the bedroom. Outside, the sudden squall was still gusty, but further away and a thin line of blue was painted along the horizon. I shook my head, checked my dwindling bank balance and then wrote a strong email to the solicitor, asking them please to push things along. Caroline could fix her own childcare problems. It wasn’t my headache. I pulled on warm, dry clothes. Maybe it was time to leave before I grew any fonder of Lucy, and more entangled in Caroline’s plans.

  * * *

  That evening, soon after I’d read Lucy a story and settled her to sleep, Caroline returned.

  I sat in the bay window in the sitting room and tracked the purr of her car engine as it came down the drive towards us, listened to the grind of the tyres of gravel outside, the slam of the car door. It was time. I’d decided. I needed to tell her I was moving on. I had begun to have a creeping feeling that my mother was right about Caroline all along. She was using me.

  Her head appeared round the sitting room door and her expression was contrite.

  ‘Join me for dinner?’ She brandished a bottle of white wine. ‘My treat. I’ve got some fresh salmon and a ton of salad.’

  I hesitated, thinking about our encounter earlier. ‘Caroline…’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ She read my face and looked suddenly anxious. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. Really. Don’t look like that. Look, let’s have supper together and we can catch up properly. With everything that’s been happening, we haven’t had a chance to talk about you.’

  I paused, still uncertain, and she disappeared before I could object.

  That evening, she was almost like her old self again. She ushered me to a chair at the kitchen table, set a glass of wine in front of me and prepared the salmon. As it cooked, she sliced and chopped peppers and celery hearts to add to the salad, making persistent efforts to get me to chat.

  ‘I’m sorry if I startled you at the beach. I didn’t mean to. I dashed back home to get some papers I needed and I saw the swell and, well, I love swimming in storms, that’s all. I know it’s crazy. It’s just a sort of daredevil thing.’

  I looked down into my glass. I thought of Lucy’s small hands clutching the metals bars on the windows, her face peering out in horror.

  ‘Lucy saw you. She was terrified.’

  She gave me a quick sharp look, then turned her head back to her knife and chopping board.

  ‘She’s frightened of the sea, that’s all. She’ll grow out of it.’

  I didn’t answer. I was still annoyed with her, not ready to relent.

  ‘I used to swim at night in Hong Kong, when I got the chance. Wait until the wind got up and then plunge into the waves. The water is so black, it’s like swimming over an abyss. Invisible depths below.’

  I blinked. ‘I thought Hong Kong was all skyscrapers?’

  She laughed. ‘It’s got beaches too. It’s islands – well, most of it. Dom and I used to drive down onto the beach late at night when it was deserted and go skinny-dipping in the moonlight. The water gives off the most amazing eerie glow when you swim. Algae or something. Anyway, it’s magical.’

  Now I found myself thinking about the two of them, muscular and strong, peeling off their clothes and swimming naked together in the moonlight. I didn’t want to know. They were exotic experiences I knew I’d never have. I drank off my wine and she came across at once to re-fill the glass. The hard edges of the kitchen started to blur.

  I said, ‘I thought you had meetings all day, anyway?’

  Chop, chop. ‘They re-scheduled the afternoon session for next week. They want me to present a more detailed business plan. A breakdown of costs and everything.’ She beamed. ‘I was just going to grab the papers and work on it at my friend’s place. I should have said – sorry – I didn’t want to get in the way. But then the storm blew up and, well, I couldn’t resist.’

  I sipped my wine. The alcohol reached into my chest, then down to my toes, numbing me. The sense of being felled by the force of the water, of being toppled and taken, came to me again.

  ‘I might have drowned.’

  ‘You weren’t in deep enough. Anyway, you didn’t. You waded in to save my life and I ended up saving yours.’ She gave a sho
rt laugh, then glanced round at me, checking if I was still cross. ‘How did it go with nursery today?’

  ‘Fine. I mean, she’s not exactly mixing, but she stayed.’ I wouldn’t look her in the eye. ‘Early days.’

  It was absurd, but I was angry with Caroline for agreeing to put Lucy into nursery, even though it was my idea. I hadn’t realised how guilty I’d feel, leaving her there. She seemed such a sensitive child and so unused to other children. Maybe it was too much for her? Maybe she just wasn’t ready? Caroline’s attitude was just so casual, as if it were nothing…

  I thought about my own childhood and how loved I’d always felt. I’d never even been sent to nursery. Those were really special years, at home with mum. If Lucy were my daughter, I’d keep her with me, as long as I possibly could. And if I had to send her to pre-school, I’d want to be the one to take her there and see her settled, and be there to pick her up afterwards. Why didn’t that matter to Caroline?

  ‘That was a big sigh.’

  I looked up to find her eyes on my face, thoughtful. I didn’t answer.

  She served the salmon with a light, buttery sauce and a voluminous salad: bananas, grapes, nuts, dates, celery and peppers as well as leaves. We sat across from each other at the scrubbed table.

  ‘Kitchen suppers,’ she said as she topped up our wine glasses. ‘The best.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Here’s to old friends.’

  We started to eat.

  ‘So, tell me. Have you thought what you’ll do, once the money’s through from the house sale?’ She seemed all contrition, trying to get me to talk. ‘Dom knows loads of people, you know. All sorts. If you’re thinking of a change of career and need contacts, you only have to ask.’

  I shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet.’ I didn’t want to think about it. I had nowhere to go. No-one. I needed to find work but the idea of starting all over again in a new place, looking for somewhere to live and bringing the past out of storage to fill shabby rented rooms, it all seemed overwhelming.

  ‘You’ve got experience. A degree. Office skills. There must be all sorts of directions you could take. I’m excited for you!’

  I didn’t answer. She didn’t understand. I’d scraped by all this time, but it never felt effortless, even when I was based back at home, doing jobs that were really below my level. I was always scared of being let go. Of being somehow found out and unmasked as useless, even though my managers were always telling me I did a great job.

  ‘You should see a careers consultant. Dom knows a great one. They’ll go through options with you.’

  I looked away. ‘That sounds very high-powered.’

  ‘You really underestimate yourself, don’t you? I hate that. Do you know, when people ask men what they deserve to be paid, they usually say far higher than they’re worth. But women cut their own salaries.’ She smiled. ‘Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Even after we’ve got a proper nanny sorted. I’m so grateful to you, honestly.’

  I nodded. It was a relief, in some ways, just to drop anchor here. I didn’t have to worry about bills and jobs and decisions about the future. It was a breathing space, a chance to recover from everything that had happened. And there was Lucy too. Someone I was already starting to care about. Someone who really seemed to need me.

  She said, ‘Do you think Lucy could cope with full days?’

  ‘At nursery?’ I bristled. ‘She’s only just started.’

  ‘I know. I’m just thinking ahead.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘She’s such a strange kid. She was on her own a lot in Hong Kong, with the amah. She could do with making friends. It’ll be time to start thinking about Big School soon.’

  I remembered what Mrs Minns had said. ‘Has Lucy seen anyone about her speech delay?’

  She raised her glass and took a gulp of wine. ‘That’s a recent thing. She was a real chatterbox before. It’s nothing physical, believe me. She’s just going through a funny phase.’

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘When did it start?’

  She chewed, looking past me towards the darkened window. ‘A month or so ago, I suppose. We should keep an eye on it. You’re right. But I think it’s just an affectation. Attention seeking. She’ll soon start talking again once she realises that she has to, to get what she wants. Nursery might be just what she needs.’

  We fell silent again as we ate. After a while, she set down her knife and fork and I sensed that she was looking me over.

  ‘You didn’t recognise me at first, did you, in the café?’

  I felt myself flush. She was right, of course. She was a lot older. We both were.

  ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘It has. I worked out a lot after Lucy was born. I was tired of being skinny, I wanted to be strong.’ She touched her hair and laughed. ‘And I admit, I pay a lot of money to look this natural.’

  I finished and set down my knife and fork. ‘I didn’t mean—'

  She shrugged and set a bowl of cut fruits on the table and a jug of cream and gestured to me to help myself. I did, aware that her mood had shifted again and wondering why.

  Finally, when we were both eating dessert, she said, ‘Look, it’s a bit awkward, but I’ve had some health problems on and off. Since Lucy came along. I don’t like people to know but I know I can trust you…’

  Her eyes found mine, searching.

  I frowned at the fact she’d felt she had to ask. ‘Of course you can.’

  She hesitated. ‘I had some sort of episode. They’re not even sure what. It’s one of the reasons we came back. Nothing serious. But I get memory loss. Not day-to-day. I mean, I don’t lose the car keys any more than anyone else or forget who I am.’ She forced a tense smile. ‘But my memory’s very patchy and sometimes I find it hard to keep track of things, you know?’

  I breathed deeply, trying to understand, my own brain fogged now by the wine. ‘I’m sorry. Really.’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t like talking about it. I mean, now that I’m starting my own business and everything, it’s not exactly something I want to advertise. But I thought you ought to know.’

  ‘Right.’ My mind was racing, trying to imagine what she meant. ‘What do the doctors say?’

  She waved her hand as if she were swatting my concerns away. ‘Nothing worth knowing. I’ve had the lot. Brain scans, tests. Long boring story and it all checked out just fine but, you know, don’t be cross if you say something and I look blank.’

  She moved the conversation on swiftly, chatting about how Dominic had found the house online and fallen in love with it at once, then had to persuade her it was a good idea to base themselves in the middle of nowhere and be apart all week. It’s the perfect antidote to Hong Kong, he kept saying. So much space for Lucy to explore. She caved, in the end. Partly because she got it for a song.

  Later, when she mentioned plans to build an extension for herself at some stage, so she could have her own home-office, I seized my chance.

  ‘I had a look round that beach house. You know, the old storeroom we talked about?’

  ‘Don’t know why you’d want to.’

  There was something hard in her tone, despite her smile. I took a deep breath.

  ‘I’d like to go ahead and clear it out, if that’s ok? The view’s stunning. I could put a few odds and ends in, you know, make it a bit cosier. I bet Lucy would love to do arts and crafts there, with all that light.’

  She shrugged. ‘If you like.’

  I hesitated. She seemed so reluctant to admit that she’d been painting there, and I wasn’t sure why. I tried to be tactful.

  ‘There are quite a lot of canvases. Oil paintings. Where do you want me to put them? I mean, I’d hate to damage them.’

  ‘Use them as dartboards, for all I care.’ She caught my expression and shook her head. ‘Sorry. Just being silly. Yes, maybe store them somewhere out of the way. The attic maybe. There’s a room across from the nursery with a load of old carpet and curtains waiting to go to the tip. Stack them in there.’
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br />   I helped her to clear up and she made a pot of coffee. We were carrying our cups through to the sitting room when I remembered what I’d found in the fridge.

  ‘By the way, thanks for the Wine Gums.’ I smiled. ‘I assumed they were for me?’

  She didn’t answer and when I craned to see, her face was blank as if her mind were elsewhere.

  Four

  Caroline

  The first time it happened, I thought I was dying.

  It was a Sunday evening and I was sitting beside Dominic on the sofa, watching a film. One of the Bourne films, I think. Dominic loves them. It was hot and muggy and we had the windows closed. The dehumidifier hummed in the corner as it sucked moisture out of the air. The old air conditioning unit, set into the window frame, rattled as it blew out cold air. Overhead, the ceiling fan – one of the old, wooden ones – whoop, whoop, whooped as it turned and endlessly stirred.

  I was contented. We’d had a packed weekend seeing friends.

  I’d started painting again, here in the flat, inspired by its dramatic views of the harbour, of the ferries crossing the water. Charcoal sketches and watercolours, mostly. But on Saturday, while Dominic put in extra hours at the office, I’d bought a canvas and started a study in oils. It had been a while and I was cautiously excited, eager to get back to it.

  On Saturday night, we’d had dinner out, then went to a club on Kowloon side. I’d had too many margheritas, knowing I could always lean into Dominic’s firm, steady body, inhale its familiar smell of male sweat and stale cigar smoke, and trust it to take me safely home.

  Today, Sunday, we’d slept in late, made love and then dozed again in each other’s arms. Typical lazy Sunday. Brunch on The Peak, the tableau of Hong Kong at our feet. I was happy. We’d been together for nearly six months. Already, we’d talked about staying together, about sharing our lives, in a manner of hints and smiles.

  Music surged from the screen. Some chase. Matt Damon on a motorbike, weaving through traffic at crazy speeds, doing daredevil stunts. Dominic tipped back his head and swallowed a mouthful of Pinot Grigio. The remains of a takeaway pizza, the cardboard box ripped open, sat on the coffee table in front of us. The cheese was hardening and the sauce starting to congeal.