The Dead Wife's Handbook (40 page)

This is Max’s fortieth birthday party? But Max doesn’t even like parties. At least, the Max I was married to didn’t. And who are all these people who look like they’ve yet to reach their fourth decade let alone their fifth? Old friends of Max or young friends of Eve?

It’s a reminder, as if I needed one, of just how much has changed in my absence. I remember Max and I discussing our fortieth birthdays when they still felt sufficiently distant to joke about. He had said he’d like us to return to New York for his, to take Ellie back to the city in which she first came into being. I’d wanted to head to Iceland for mine, to explore somewhere new together, to
discover it from the very beginning with Ellie. It looks like Max may have changed his mind about a lot of things since I’ve been gone.

I finally spy Max, Eve and Ellie in one corner of the room, where Ellie is arranging presents on a table and Max is chatting to Eve, his arm protectively encasing her tiny waist. She looks amazing. She’s wearing a gold sequinned shift dress and satin three-inch heels, a combination which should, if there were any justice in the world, make her look like she’s walked straight out of the WAGs’ enclosure at a premiership football match. Instead she looks elegant and stylish, her golden hair luminescent next to the sequins, her slender frame proving the perfect hanger for the simplest cut of dress.

I make my way over to them, arriving just in time to witness, up close and much too personally, Max kiss Eve passionately and lingeringly on the lips.

‘Thank you, baby – it’s a fantastic party. I love it. Although I can’t imagine how you managed to organize all of this, and invite all these people, without me suspecting a thing. I clearly need to watch out for your devious streak.’

So this was all Eve’s doing. I might have guessed. I can’t imagine Max arranging something like this for himself.

‘Well, I did have a lot of help from my fabulous party co-planner, didn’t I, Ellie?’

‘Dad, you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep this a secret. I had to go through the entire address book on your mobile phone while you were in the shower every day for about a week to find all the phone numbers for your friends. Then, do you remember the other week
when I said I really needed my old PE kit from the loft for a fancy dress thing at school? Well, that was a total fib – sorry. I wanted to get on your computer and find all those old songs you like, from the 1990s and everything, so Eve could give a list to the DJ. And this morning, when you went out for your bike ride, me and Eve and Granny and Grandpa sneaked over here and decorated the whole place.’

Ellie’s eyes sparkle with the pleasure of being released from a secret that’s been a challenge to keep.

‘Clearly I’m going to need to be careful of your scheming side too, young lady. I can’t believe you managed to snoop through all my things without me knowing.’

‘Eve said it was for your own good. And it wasn’t like I did it without permission.’

Ellie and Eve nod at one another in mutual acknowledgement of their success.

‘And when on earth were you having all these surreptitious conversations? I can’t think when you’ve had the opportunity without me being around.’

‘Oh, Ellie and I can be very efficient party planners when we need to be. There were the Saturday morning planning sessions in the changing room at the swimming pool and the two nights you were out at parents’ evenings. And you don’t really think that Ellie and I have been shopping three consecutive Saturdays while you’ve been at the football, do you? Honestly, Ellie, what does your dad take us for?’

Ellie giggles while I try to absorb the extensive inventory of the life that Eve now shares with my daughter.

‘Well, you should both be very proud. You did brilliantly at keeping it all a secret and this party – well, I think it’s the best party I’ve ever been to.’

Eve and Ellie share a mutually congratulatory hug and I can almost feel the warmth emanating from their embrace. They seem genuinely fond of one another, I can’t deny it. Children are no good at faking that kind of attachment. I can’t deny, either, the sheer pleasure of seeing Ellie happy, contented, relaxed. And, by the look of it, loved.

‘Max, I’m going to pop to the kitchen and get the last of the food out. I think people are going to need to start soaking up alcohol soon.’

‘I’ll come with you and give you a hand. Ellie, why don’t you go over and talk to Grandpa – it looks like he’d appreciate the company.’

I look over to where Max is pointing and see Ralph sitting on his own by a depleted tray of sandwiches. I spy Joan now, too, following Max and Eve into the hall’s small kitchenette, where Eve busies herself unwrapping mini bagels and focaccias on to large china plates, and decanting bumper bags of crisps into mahogany bowls.

‘It’s such a lovely party, you two. The music’s a bit loud but I suspect that’s just me showing my age. You are clever, Eve, arranging all this without him ever guessing.’

‘You’re not wrong there, Mum. It’s a fantastic surprise. To be fair, Eve, you probably knew I’d never have agreed if you’d asked me, didn’t you?’

Eve bows her head and arches an eyebrow in mock guilty fashion, before they erupt into an explosion of laughter and he kisses her in a way I’m sure he never kissed me in front of his mum.

Joan is laughing too, her back against the open kitchen door, where I can see Mum and Harriet approaching.
I hoped they’d be here too, but I hadn’t dared assume it after some of the conflict I’ve witnessed recently. I just wish Mum wasn’t about to enter the kitchen at the very moment Max and Eve are engaged in yet another public display of affection. I don’t know what it is about the combination of my husband, his new girlfriend, my mum and kitchens, but it seems to be the perfect recipe for emotional upset.

‘So have you two settled on a date for Eve to move in yet?’

As Joan waits expectantly for an answer, Mum and Harriet stop in their tracks, out of Joan’s sight but within earshot, and exchange a mutually perplexed look. Max and Eve, with a view behind Joan that Joan can’t see, stand mute, their mouths slightly ajar, as if on the verge of replying but having lost the words somewhere between their brains and their mouths.

‘There’s no need to look at me like that, with your mouths open like a couple of gawping fish. It’s a perfectly sensible question isn’t it? I was wondering if your dad and I could help in any way, maybe picking up your things, Eve, or are you getting removal men for that?’

Max and Eve remained glued to the spot, each wearing the expression of a teenager caught smoking behind the bike shed. It’s Mum, eventually, who finds a voice for all of them.

‘So, were you going to tell me yourselves, or were you just going to let me find out next time I come to collect Ellie for the weekend?’

Joan spins round like a startled bird that’s just discovered someone else has been pecking at her nest. Instead,
she finds my mum and my best friend standing inches behind her, Mum glaring with humiliated rage and Harriet fixed with the look of someone who knows they’re about to bear witness to an unmissable showdown.

‘I’m really sorry, Celia. We only decided very recently and I just haven’t had a chance to tell you.’

‘Well, you can tell me now.’

‘Perhaps now’s not the best time to talk about it. Maybe Max can tell you tomorrow? We don’t want to spoil the party after all, do we?’

It’s Joan’s attempt at diplomacy, but a true diplomat would have recognized that of the five people squeezed into a kitchen well beyond capacity, she’s the least suited to staging an intervention.

‘That’s all very well for you to say, Joan. You’re not the one who’s been kept in the dark, are you?’

‘We weren’t keeping you in the dark, honestly, Celia. We’re actually very excited about it. Eve’s coming to live with us in about six weeks’ time, at the beginning of December, so the three of us can be settled for Christmas.’

Max delivers a placatory smile, but I’m not sure he’s going to be able to charm his way out of this one.

‘It’s just seems rather soon. Why the rush?’

‘There’s no rush, Celia. We just felt that the time was right. For us.’

Mum frowns in the face of Max’s phlegmatic response. Harriet, meanwhile, is uncommonly quiet, for reasons I don’t understand. I’d expect her to be leaping to my defence in a situation like this.

‘Is there something you’re not telling us?’

Mum sounds combative now, a tonal outfit she’s not used to wearing. Max and Eve glance at one another, either in confusion or complicity, I’m not quite sure. Mum takes it as her cue to continue.

‘The only reason I can possibly imagine as to why you’d be wanting to live together so soon is if Eve’s planning to get pregnant. Or maybe she is already?’

Joan takes in a theatrical breath, Harriet raises a shocked eyebrow, Max hangs his head in resignation and Eve looks calmly ahead. Mum, meanwhile, attempts to hide her own surprise that such an indiscreet accusation could have emanated publicly from her lips.

‘I think that’s quite unnecessary, Celia, if you’ll forgive me for saying it. Max and Eve’s private life is just that – private.’

‘For goodness sake, there’s no privacy to be discussed. Is there any chance everyone can stop jumping to conclusions and accept the fact that there’s no ulterior motive, that Eve and I simply want to live together?’

Eve places a calming hand on Max’s arm.

‘It’s okay, Max. To be honest I think it’s time we told them anyway.’

‘Told us what?’

Now it’s Joan’s curiosity that’s got the better of her.

‘Don’t, baby. There’s no need. Just leave it.’

Eve shakes her head, and turns to meet the trio of expectant faces, their inquisitiveness suddenly delivering her a room bursting with undivided attention.

Max’s expression is pained, agitated, the face of a man who’s desperate to keep the worms in the can after it’s
already been opened, but who knows it’s a struggle he’s destined not to win.

I can’t believe she’s going to tell them all, here and now. I feel strangely protective of her, aligned with Max’s desire to prevent a revelation she may later come to regret.

Eve seems to be the only person in the room who’s retained her composure throughout the whole messy conversation.

‘The truth is, if Max and I stay together, which I sincerely hope we will, we won’t be having any children together for the simple reason that I can’t. I had an operation when I was younger and there were some complications – I’d rather not go into the details, if you don’t mind – so childbearing’s not an option for me. Or for us. But that’s fine because Ellie’s amazing and she’s all any family needs. This move is what all three of us want, and it would be great to be doing it with your blessing – with blessings from all of you – if we could.’

No one speaks. Joan looks annoyed and I wonder whether she’s irked at having been invited late to the confidence party or whether she’s preoccupied with the sudden prospect of only ever having one grandchild. Mum’s face betrays a combination of shame and relief, while Harriet I’m unable to read; if I didn’t know her better I’d say hers was an expression of sympathy, but I know that’s unlikely. Perhaps I’m misreading sympathy for boredom.

It strikes me that this is a decisive moment in the lives of the five people inadvertently trapped together in the cabin-sized kitchen, with Madonna’s ‘Like a Virgin’ providing a suitably inappropriate soundtrack to their silence. This is the moment they can choose to embrace Eve’s
adversities and welcome her into the fold, in spite of their own insecurities and anxieties. Or it could be the perfect opportunity to beat Eve with the confessional stick she’s just handed them and reject her conclusively.

Against every bet I’d have made had I been offered one before arriving here this evening, I find myself championing the former.

It’s Mum who finally breaks the silence, in a voice that’s been transformed from accusation to atonement.

‘I’m really very sorry to hear that, Eve. That must be dreadful for you. If I’d known, of course, I’d never have been so tactless.’

Before Eve has to respond, Joan jumps in, determined not to be outdone in the sympathy stakes.

‘That’s so awful for you, love. I wish you’d confided in me earlier. It’s a terrible thing, infertility, but you’re obviously coping with it very well.’

Joan cocks her head to one side and squeezes Eve’s hand as though reacting to news of a terminal illness rather than an inability to procreate.

‘It’s fine, really, both of you. I just didn’t want there to be any misconceptions as to why I’m moving in with Max, or about our future together for that matter.’

Before anyone has a chance to share whatever’s on their mind, Connor saunters in, helps himself to a handful of crisps and bites into a smoked salmon bagel before he clocks that he’s walked into a crowded room in which the tension is almost as resounding as the music outside.

‘What have I missed? Bloody hell, what’s wrong with you lot? Did someone die? I thought this was supposed to be a party.’

Connor throws a slightly drunken arm around Harriet’s shoulder.

‘Max and Eve were just telling us about their plans. To live together.’

There’s an edge to Harriet’s voice, as if she’s passing the argumentative baton to Connor in the expectation that he’ll produce the appropriate indignation for all of them.

‘Yeah, I know. It’s great, isn’t it? I’m made up for them. It’s what – only a few weeks away now?’

Harriet shakes Connor’s arm from her shoulder, firing a look of disbelief in his direction at the same time.

‘You knew? And you didn’t tell me?’

‘It’s not my news, is it? Anyway, you know now. What’s the problem?’

Harriet glares at him as though the answer to his question should be self-evident.

‘And what about Ellie? Does she get a say in all of this?’

There’s the slightest tremble in Mum’s voice and it’s clear that she hasn’t yet recovered from the unexpected news.

‘Boo.’

Mum jumps and turns to find the subject of her question standing behind her, grinning, a piece of chocolate cake in one hand and Ralph in the other.