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Authors: Jane Corry

My Husband's Wife (15 page)

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There's a short silence during which I see a distinct look of uncertainty flitting across my sister-in-law's face. The toddler struggles to get down. He is deposited gently on the ground.

‘But you know about the trust?'

‘What trust?'

‘You're kidding me. Right?' She takes in my face. ‘You're not, are you? Shit. He told us you knew …' She seems genuinely concerned.

‘Please,' I beg, ‘you're the only one who will tell me anything. Don't you think I have a right to know?'

There's a quick glance over her shoulder. No one is there. The toddler is now sitting at her feet, eating clumps of frozen earth from a plant pot, but she hasn't noticed and I don't want to stop her now. ‘Ed was heartbroken when Davina dumped him to get engaged to some banker she'd been seeing on the quiet for yonks. Poor old Ed really loved her – sorry – but it wasn't just that. Time was running out. Henry, spit that out or …'

‘Time was running out for what?'

‘I'm trying to tell you. The trust. Henry, spit it out NOW. It was set up by the boys' grandparents. They all have to get married by the age of thirty and stay married for at least five years or they won't get their inheritance. Sounds totally ridiculous, I know, but apparently Artemis's father has a thing about men who don't get married. His brother was the other way inclined, if you get my meaning, and it brought terrific scandal on the family in those days. I knew about it, but Andrew and I would have got married when we did anyway, trust or no trust.'

I can't believe it.

‘We got married just before Ed's thirtieth birthday,' I say slowly. ‘I thought it was fast, but I was flattered that he was so keen …'

‘And he
was
, I'm sure of it.'

‘Well, I'm not. I was always amazed that Ed had fallen for me. I'm all wrong for him. Why didn't he go for someone more suitable?'

‘Have you been listening to that mother-in-law of ours? Honestly, Lily. You've got to have more faith in yourself. Anyone can see Ed loves you. You're just what this family needs. Someone normal.'

Normal! Hah! The irony almost makes me miss what she says next.

‘When Ed first told us about you, we were shocked, of course. Especially with the wedding coming so soon. But when we met you, we saw why he'd chosen you. You're just the kind of girl he needs. Reliable. Attractive without being a floozy. No offence meant. I said that if it didn't work out … Henry, stop that …'

‘You said what?' I say urgently.

She has the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I said that if it didn't work out, he could always divorce you when the five years were up. It's a bit of a joke among us trust wives.'

‘Right.' I am so stunned I don't know what else to say.

‘Come on.' She pats me on the arm. ‘You've got to see the bright side.'

‘Are you joking?'

‘Not entirely. Let me put it another way. It means we all stand to inherit quite a bit when the grandfather dies. He's in a home now, by the way. Dementia, poor man. And don't blame Ed.' She says the latter more seriously. ‘He was up against the wall. You should have heard how Artemis was going on about losing all that money if he didn't get a move on. Mind you, I agree he could have told you.'

If he had, I wouldn't have accepted his proposal, as he'd have been well aware. The whole thing sounds insane in today's day and world. But then Ed's family doesn't come from my kind of background. I've always known that. I just didn't realize how far apart we were when it came to telling the truth.

Or how close.

‘Of course,' continues my sister-in-law, ‘it was a bit of a pain when Davina broke off her engagement to the other chap …'

My skin breaks out into goose pimples. ‘When?'

‘Henry! When you were on honeymoon …'

Now, finally, it's all falling into place.

‘I see,' I say numbly.

‘What do you see?'

It's Ed, coming up from behind. Looking every inch like a former public schoolboy in his navy jacket, crisp
white shirt and beige chinos. But inside, he's no better than a criminal. Hasn't he stolen my life?

‘You married me so you didn't lose out on your inheritance,' I hiss. ‘But you really wanted Davina. No wonder you were so upset when we came back from our honeymoon and you found out she'd cancelled her marriage.'

Alarm is written all over his face. For one minute there, I had hoped this ridiculous story was a pack of lies. Yet my husband is disconcertingly quiet, making no attempt to deny the charge. Like all good lawyers, I've got to the truth. But there's no pleasure in it.

‘And now clearly,' I continue furiously, ‘she wishes she'd waited for you – and you for her.'

He takes my arm. ‘Let's walk.'

My sister-in-law has gone, along with her toddler. We pick our way along the gravel path by the early snowdrops. Ed's voice is raw. ‘She shouldn't have told you.'

‘Yes. She should.' I shake off his arm. ‘You married me for money. But I could have been anyone who was around, just as long as it was before your birthday.'

He looks away, down towards the lake. ‘It wasn't like that. No, I didn't want to lose my inheritance. I knew when it came it would allow me to give up my job and let me paint. Maybe start my own gallery. But at the same time, I was genuinely attracted to you. There was something about your face when you told me your brother was dead and … and how he'd died. I tried to draw it, after that first night, but I couldn't do it. It was as if your grief was too deep.'

‘You married me out of pity?'

He is pleading now. ‘That's not what I meant. I married
you because you intrigued me and because I could tell you were a good, kind person.' His face crumples. ‘Look how you insisted on mopping up your wine at that party instead of pretending it wasn't you who had spilled it. Davina would just have left it. You're a much better person that her. Honest.'

Honest? I'm tempted, as I've been on so many occasions, to tell him everything. The guilt lies like a heavy stone inside me. But if I'm upset about the trust, how would Ed feel if he knew what I had done?

I try to take a step back, but before I can do so, Ed's hands are cupping my face. ‘You're a beautiful person, Lily. Inside and out. And the most amazing thing is that you just don't see it. That was another reason I fell for you. You're also brave. Loyal. Clever. I know I haven't been very nice about you working so hard, but actually I'm really proud of you for helping the underdogs in life, like this prisoner of yours.'

You've got it all wrong
, I want to scream out.

‘So why have you been so horrid to me?'

‘Because … because I was hurt when you clearly didn't want me. You know. Physically. It made me feel rejected. And then Davina made it clear she was still interested and I was … well, tempted. Nothing happened. I swear it. Then there's the case. It seems to be all you think about and …'

There's a dullness in my chest. The number of divorced solicitors in my practice alone bears testament to the fact that law takes its toll on family life.

He runs his hands through his hair. ‘The thing is, Lily, maybe we did get together fast. But I've got to
know you better now and … well, I want to be with you. I really do.'

Does he? Or is it the money that's talking? Five years of marriage to get the inheritance.

‘Tell me,' he says, pulling me towards him, ‘that you love me too?'

Love? What is love? Surely I'm the last person to answer that one.

‘We could try again,' he says slowly. Gently he tilts my chin so I have to look straight at him. It feels important not to look away. ‘What do you think?'

We've said this to each other before. Each time we've ended up fighting again. But right now, a pair of brown-black eyes comes into my head.
Go away
, I want to scream.

‘I don't know,' I say miserably to Ed now. ‘I can't think properly. Not with this case going on.'

It's true. If anything, seeing my parents this Christmas, revisiting the empty stable, has made me more determined than ever to go ahead with this. To win. To play my part in delivering justice. It's more important than my own personal life. After Daniel, it
has
to be.

Then I look down at my husband's hands, which are now holding mine. And I drop them.

‘I'll give you an answer when it's over. Sorry.'

20
Carla

Carla watched Mamma cry all through Christmas Day. She cried when she unwrapped Larry's present and she cried when her fingers couldn't put it on.

At first, Carla tried to comfort her. ‘Let me help you with the clasp.'

But then, when Mamma looked in the mirror at the silver locket around her slim brown neck, she cried even more.

Carla gave up. I wonder if the Queen cries, she asked herself as she sat cross-legged in front of the television, watching this really old woman with grey hair and a nice smile talking about ‘the importance of family values'.

Carla wouldn't have bothered changing channels for the Queen's speech if it wasn't for her new friend at school. ‘We always watch it,' Maria had told Carla when they were tucking into the toffees which one of the gappy-toothed nuns had handed out after the end-of-term carol service.

Sometimes Carla guiltily found herself wishing that she belonged to Maria's family. But at least, thanks to her friend, she now had a Kitty. She had the right television programme on. Now all she needed was a mother who didn't have a red, blotchy face from weeping.

If Larry didn't make Mamma so unhappy, everything would be all right, Carla told herself as she watched pictures of the Queen's reassuring face.

She was sure something would happen soon. She just had to be patient.

‘Do you think Ed and Lily will be back now?' she asked Mamma through the sobs.

Her mother shook her head. If Larry saw Mamma now, he wouldn't think she was very pretty with all those black smudges under her eyes.

‘They are still with their families,' Mamma said. ‘Just as we should be with ours.'

Carla thought of the sparkly Christmas card of baby Jesus that they had sent to Italy and the much hoped-for card that had not been sent back in return.

Mamma burst out into fresh tears. ‘It is all my fault …'

‘Why, Mamma?'

‘It just is.' Then her mother's eye fell on the second package under the tree. ‘Are you not going to open Larry's present to you? I took it out of the bin, just in case.'

Most of her didn't want to. But another part was curious …

‘Go on,' urged Mamma. Her eyes grew brighter. Carla knew what she was thinking. If it was a good present, it meant Larry loved her mother more than his wife and the girl they had seen through the window.

The paper was hard to undo. Someone had tied it up tightly with sticky tape as though the giver had not wanted her to get in. Eventually, she wiggled out the thing inside. It was a box. A long slim box. And inside that was …

‘A watch,' gasped Mamma. ‘How kind of Larry!' Now
there was laughter through the tears. ‘It is expensive, yes? What does the card say?'

Carla looked at it and then put it in her pocket.

‘What was on it?' persisted Mamma.

‘Nothing. Just Happy Christmas.'

But Carla's insides were hot. The words had been carefully written in black pen so there was no mistake.

Be a good girl.

Larry was warning her to behave. But it was he who needed to be careful.

‘The phone!' gasped Mamma. ‘Quick! Before it stops. It will be Larry. You go. Please. I need to calm myself. Talk to him first. Thank him for your watch. Then I will speak.'

Reluctantly, Carla moved towards it. Slowly, slowly, she picked up the receiver. ‘Yes?'

‘Is your mother there?' Larry's voice was quiet, as if he didn't want anyone to hear.

‘Don't ring again,' she whispered so Mamma would not hear. Then she slammed down the receiver.

‘It was not him?' Mamma's voice rose in a mournful crescendo.

‘I think it was the same person who has rung before,' said Carla, looking down at the carpet. If she stared closely enough, she could make a lion face out of the maroon pattern.

Mamma shivered. ‘The one who says nothing?'

‘Yes.'

The face in the carpet stared up at her.
Liar! Liar!
it mouthed.

Then Mamma stopped crying and put her arm around
her. ‘You must not be worried, little one. This is my fault. Next time,
I
will pick up the phone.'

But it didn't ring again. Not for another two whole days. Two days when Carla and Kitty and the lion face on the carpet thought they might have got away with it.

And then it happened.

‘Why did you lie to your mother?'

Larry's eyes were shiny and hard. They reminded her of the knife that Mamma used to slice bread. Usually Mamma made her own bread because the ‘shop stuff' was ‘not fit for a dog'. Carla loved the smell. She tried to recall it now to make herself feel better. But it wouldn't come.

Not now that Larry was standing right in front of her, next to Mamma. The two of them against her.

Carla's breath caught in her throat. ‘I told you. I thought it was that strange person. The one who makes calls and says nothing.'

‘It is true,' burst in Mamma. Her face was anxious. Scared in the way that it was when a brown envelope arrived in the post with the words ‘Overdue' in red on the inside. ‘I have had these calls myself. They scare us.'

Larry's eyes flickered. ‘Then you must tell the police.'

Mamma let out a shrill laugh. ‘What do they care? They cannot even stop the kids from breaking windows. This place, it is not good. Even Ed says so.'

Larry's face jerked as if someone had attached a line to the end of his long thin nose and pulled it up tightly. ‘Who is Ed?'

‘You know.' Carla's voice was cut through with scorn.
‘He is the neighbour who looks after me with his wife while Mamma
works
.' She stressed the word ‘works' so there was no doubt about her meaning
. Mamma does not really work on Sundays
.
She spends time with you instead of with me.

But Larry's gaze was sliding to her wrist. ‘Are you not wearing your watch?'

‘It doesn't work.'

‘Is that so?'

Why did he sound amused and not cross?

Anger made her reckless. ‘Did you buy your daughter one too?'

Perhaps it was just as well that Mamma had now gone into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Larry's face came very close to hers. She could smell the whisky.

‘You think you are very clever, don't you, Carla?'

No
, she wanted to say.
No. I am stupid at maths although my new friend helps me now.
But instead of replying, she focused on a mark on his neck which looked like ketchup. If she did that, it might stop her from speaking again.

‘No comment, eh?' Larry stood back as if appraising her. ‘I approve of that. You think you are clever because you
are
clever, Carla. Believe me. You might not think it, but it's true. One day you'll go far.'

Then his eyes narrowed. ‘I just don't know
which
way. Up or down. It's up to you.'

Two weeks later, Carla came back from school beside herself with excitement. ‘My friend Maria has asked me to her house for tea,' she sang.

Mamma was at the door. They had agreed that now Carla was ten, she should be allowed to come home from
school on her own providing that she never, ever talked to strangers. And this school was much closer, so Carla never got lost.

‘That is such an honour!' Mamma was flushed, and for a moment Carla wondered if Larry was here. Mamma always got redder when he was here.

But no. The flat was empty.

‘Next Wednesday!' The words fell out of Carla's mouth in no particular order. ‘Her mother, she will pick me up from school. Then she will bring me home again. We're going to play with her Barbies.'

‘Her mother drives?' Mamma's eyes grew envious.

Carla nodded. ‘All the mothers do. Please, Mamma. Please say I can go.'

‘But of course.' Her mother was all smiles again. ‘It is good that you have new friends. Nice friends at this new school. A mother who drives herself must have a lot of money, don't you think?'

It was true. Maria lived in a house which was big enough to take in both number 3 and number 7, and maybe one more in their apartment block too.

The food was delicious. It wasn't pasta.

‘Steak,' said her friend's mother, noticing how she was tucking in. ‘You like it?'

Carla nodded again, not wanting to speak with her mouth full. She also took care to hold the knife and fork in the same way that her friend and mother did. Afterwards, she offered to dry up.

Maria's mother beamed. ‘I can see you have been well brought up! Actually we have a dishwasher, but you girls can help me load it.'

What a clever machine!

‘The plates slot in sideways. That's right!' She handed Carla another plate while continuing to chat as if she was a proper grown-up. It made Carla feel good about herself. ‘Maria tells me that your mother comes from Italy like my husband. Whereabouts is she from?'

Carla hesitated, not wanting to seem stupid. Mamma always got so upset when she asked questions about her family that she didn't like to ask too much. ‘I am not sure, but I know there is a valley surrounded by hills and mountains. I've heard her say it's about an hour's drive from Florence up a very steep, twisty road.'

‘Really? I must ask my husband if he knows where that is. He comes from the centre of Florence, you know. It's where we met.' Her eyes went dreamy. ‘Have you ever been?'

‘No.' Carla shook her black curls. ‘But Mamma says that we will visit one day.'

This wasn't strictly true, but it seemed to be the right thing to say, because her friend's mother then invited them to help themselves to an ice cream out of the freezer. One day, Carla told herself, she would have a freezer and a dishwasher and a pretty dressing table like the one in her friend's bedroom. Then she and Mamma would finally be happy.

Later, Maria's mother dropped her off outside the flats where the usual group of boys were standing, doing nothing, kicking their shoes against the wall.

‘I would come in, my dear, but I don't like to leave the car here.'

Carla felt her spirits dip as they drove away. Home seemed so much smaller!

‘You had a good time?' Mamma called out from the kitchen.

Carla nodded. ‘Can we ask Larry if he will buy us a dishwasher? Maria's mother has one.'

‘But that is because she has a husband,
piccola mia
. ‘Maybe …'

She stopped as the phone began to ring. ‘I will go,' said Mamma.

But Carla was there first. She would ask Larry about the dishwasher for Mamma and the dressing table for her.

‘Hello?'

This time, there really
was
someone breathing but saying nothing.

Quickly, she slammed down the receiver.

BOOK: My Husband's Wife
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