The Second Wife aka Wives Behaving Badly

15

Instinct told me to dress smartly to go in to Paradox. It was an effort but I chose black trousers, a green cashmere sweater and Stephanie Kelian boots. I pulled my hair into a ponytail.

When I went in, Syriol jumped up. ‘We didn’t expect you. Should you be here, Minty?’

Her raised voice brought Deb into Reception. ‘Minty? How…’ Deb had cut her hair in a different way and looked radiant. ‘How are you? We didn’t think…’

Chris Sharp, in black, opened his office door and stuck out his head. ‘Deb, when you have a moment.’

At her name, Deb gave a self-conscious little jerk of her head, which made her hair swing seductively. ‘I’m just talking to Minty, Chris. Won’t be a moment.’

‘Oh, Minty.’ Chris came up to me and held out his hand. ‘I want to say how sorry I am. We’re all deeply, deeply sorry.’

Deb was not to be outdone. ‘We are all so upset,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘And those poor little boys.’

Chris raised an eyebrow. ‘Isn’t it a little soon to be in?’

I explained I wanted to talk to Barry and check up on my projects.

‘You needn’t worry about them,’ Deb said quickly. ‘We’ve got them under control.’

Barry was sombre but helpful. ‘It was good of you, Minty, to come in. We appreciate it.’

I opened my diary and spread it in front of him. The pages were mostly clean and white. ‘I plan to take the boys away for a short break, and then I need to sort out Nathan’s affairs with the lawyer. If it’s all right with you, I’ll come back in three weeks.’

‘Three weeks?’ Barry twirled his mobile thoughtfully. ‘Are you sure that’s long enough for you to get back on your feet?’

‘Best to hit the ground running.’ Both of us were resorting to clichés, but I had noticed that at pivotal moments, such as the giving and receiving of bad news, or making sure that my career survived in the face of a stealthy takeover by predatory colleagues, they did the job.

Barry looked extra thoughtful. ‘Let’s tease this out, Minty. I assume you still want the full-time position, but I wondered, given your new circumstances, if you shouldn’t be thinking part-time.’

This time my answer was certified cliché-free. ‘I can think all I like about part-time, Barry, but it won’t do any good. It has to be full-time.’

‘If that’s the case…’

‘About my projects.’

Barry leant over and placed a hand on my arm. ‘You’re not to worry about them. Chris will take over. He knows your thinking. You must concentrate on getting yourself through.’ His voice was rough with sympathy, and his genuine concern almost masked the fact that it made no difference to him whether I was in the office or not.

‘I’m afraid there’s gossip,’ said Paige. ‘There always is. But’ – she straightened up from the laundry basket – ‘you have to admit it’s not entirely unjustified. Why was Nathan at Rose’s flat? Gossip-wise, Minty, it’s the equivalent of throwing a juicy Christian to the lions.’

To reward myself for battling with a morning of paperwork and Theo, I had dispatched the twins to the park with Eve and come over to Paige for lunch. We sat in her neat, clean-smelling kitchen with something delicious cooking in the pink Aga. The baby was sleeping upstairs. ‘I think Nathan went to Rose out of a kind of loyalty.’

‘Really?’ Paige’s eyes widened in disbelief.

I pressed my forefingers into the pressure points on my forehead. ‘Nothing more than that.’

Paige looked sceptical. ‘If you say so.’ She folded the sleeves of a shirt across its breast, like a figure in a church brass. ‘Linda should be doing this, but I’ve given her a day off. She doesn’t know yet, but it’s a bribe because I want her to help me out at the weekend. They work most effectively I find, when they are post facto. It’s too late then.’ She picked up a striped yellow and black Babygro and inspected a tiny sleeve. ‘This makes Charlie look like a wasp. How is it at Lakey Street?’

‘Deathly quiet.’

Nathan had been dead for two weeks and the doorbell no longer rang innumerable times every morning. There were no more deliveries of flowers. The boys, Eve and I had worked our way through soups and other offerings in unfamiliar containers that, at one point, had clogged the fridge.

The boys’ understanding of the situation fluctuated. ‘Daddy’s gone to a nice place,’ Lucas announced to Eve. But every so often their grasp modified and slipped. Several times since Nathan’s death, I had woken to discover a pair of unblinking eyes observing me and one or the other of them had burrowed like a velvety mole into the safety of my bed. They seesawed between understanding and bewilderment, and it made them ragged-tempered and uncertain.

‘Where is Daddy?’ Felix had demanded at breakfast.

Paige hefted the basket into the utility room and checked the oven. ‘You could do with a good meal,’ she said. ‘How does fish stew grab you?’

I was half-way through a plateful when the storm hit me out of nowhere. I was chewing prawn when I felt sweat break out on the soles of my feet and the rush of rage. ‘How dare Nathan die?’ I dropped my fork, and pushed the plate to one side. ‘I’m so angry with him for leaving us. What was he thinking of, not getting his heart seen to?’

‘That’s better,’ said Paige. She wiped away a drop of stew by my plate. ‘You have a good hate. I always tell the children it’s best to get it out of their system.’

Paige always favoured that approach. In her book, ‘a good hate’ would evacuate the agony of losing Nathan, and the sorrow of the what will never be.

‘He must have thought about Felix and Lucas, and what it would mean if he wasn’t there. How will they manage without him?’

Yet if Nathan came whirling back out of the darkness, I would say to him, ‘Nathan, I will never again ask for a new bathroom. I promise to work at loving you.’ I would even promise I didn’t mind that I would be damned for ever by his family, and friends like the Frosts and the Lockharts.

I would promise to wipe the slate clean and begin again.

I pulled a shred of prawn shell off my fork. ‘How am I going to cope? The boys – how am I going to help them? Keep them? Maintain a house?’

‘Much as you’re coping now, I imagine. Adapt.’

‘I had a dream, Paige. I’d been transformed into a wise, hands-on mother like you. The sort of mother who says on a rainy afternoon, “Let’s make a dinosaur out of a cardboard box.” Or “Hell, why don’t we write a play about Daddy and I’ll run up the costumes?” But it was only a dream.’

‘Eat.’ Paige dumped another spoonful of stew on my plate.

I stared at it. My anger had burnt out, leaving only sadness. ‘Nathan wanted to humiliate me, Paige, by suggesting Rose became a guardian… if anything happened. How could he have done that? Gisela says he was thinking clearly. Rose is the only one with time, she’s older, and she knows what she’s doing. She would put the boys’ interests first.’

Paige considered. ‘Gisela’s right. But it’s not going to happen. You’re in rude health. Maybe, Minty, he wanted to put things right between you.’

‘Well, he hasn’t.’

Paige ate what was on her plate with a rapidity that any new mother would recognize. ‘Charlie will wake up in a minute.’

On cue, a noise like a small lawnmower struggling into life drifted from the baby alarm. Paige threw down her fork and her face lit up. ‘I’ll fetch him.’

She returned with a now roaring Charlie and sat down to feed him, supporting him with one hand. With the other, deploying an elaborate movement so that her fork did not pass over Charlie’s head, she shovelled food from plate to mouth.

‘How’s Martin?’

‘I barely see him. I booted him into the spare room, which means I have Charlie all to myself.’ Paige smiled down at the baby. ‘Don’t I? And it’s delicious, isn’t it, my tiny tiger? We have a lovely time.’

‘Don’t you miss the bank?’ I gestured at the sterilizer, the timetable pinned to the noticeboard, the copper batterie de cuisine. ‘ Figures used to be your life.’

‘Oh, I miss them,’ she said. ‘I miss their purity, but they were only part of the deal. Most of my time was spent politicking, schmoozing clients and firefighting trouble or bad press. You could never get a run at the purity.’

Whenever Paige mentioned ‘figures’ or ‘statistics’, her face was suffused with longing, as it was now. If she had been a nun, she would have brought the same steely concentration and ferocious will to being the perfect Bride of Christ.

She shifted Charlie to the other breast, and returned to the original subject. ‘You’re going to have to sort yourself out about Rose. You mustn’t let her become an obsession.’ She caressed Charlie’s head, bent over him and cooed, Who’s my pretty boy? Who’s my good boy?’ She straightened up and asked, in a normal voice, You don’t really think anything was going on between them, do you?’

The question nagged away before I fell asleep at night, and it was there when I woke, still fatigued. Its implications swirled in my brain. ‘I don’t know. All I know is that I don’t want to have to think about her at the moment. And Nathan, with his ridiculous request, made sure that I have to.’

‘People do strange things, Minty.’

I became aware of the pulse beating in my right wrist. ‘Yes.’

‘Look, it’s not a problem at the moment. Don’t think about it.’

The fingers of my left hand circled my wrist and pressed down on the pulse. ‘Do you think history repeats itself?’ In other words, had it been predetermined that Nathan would seek comfort and pleasure from the source he knew so well?

‘You mustn’t mind.’ She threw a muslin square over her shoulder, draped Charlie over it, and eased herself to her feet, where she performed a circular rocking movement, like some tribal elder. ‘Helps with the wind.’ Charlie obliged and, one hand rubbing her own back, Paige gyrated in the opposite direction. ‘I’ve sent a search party for my waist, and it’s still out there.’

I laughed. ‘Presumably all your check-ups have been OK.’

‘Back’s a bit dodgy. The ligaments had gone into permanent tension. And I’m not so good at sleeping now. But, then, I anticipated on not sleeping for a hundred years. Do you want to come upstairs while I change Charlie?’

Paige was a champion mother. She was also a champion housekeeper. Her store-cupboards were immaculate, and none of her spice jars ever overran their sell-by date. Each shelf in the linen cupboard corresponded to a room in the house, and the clothes in her wardrobe were colour-coded. You could hate Paige, unless you loved her.

I trailed up behind her, noting that every shelf was dust-free and the curtains in the children’s bedrooms had strips of transparent film sewn along the bottom to preserve them. When I passed the spare room and glanced inside, though, I did a double-take. It was awash with discarded clothes, books, a pile of papers on the floor.

‘You’re looking at the mess? Martin said the deal was that if we had a third, which he didn’t want, he’d grab a space where he could live like a pig.’

‘Ah.’

Paige changed and washed Charlie. For all her talk, she was clearly tired, so I gathered up the discarded baby things and wiped down the mat.

‘You shouldn’t do that,’ she said. ‘But I’m grateful.’

‘Have you any idea how I crave to do something ordinary?’ I chucked the cotton-wool into the bin.

Suddenly Paige sat down on the nursing chair. Her stomach bulged over her skirt, and her thighs had a flabby underdone look. What next, Minty? What are you going to do?’

‘Go back to work full-time. Keep the boys and myself.’

‘You wanted to go back.’

‘I did.’

Paige pinched the flesh of one suety thigh and glared at it. ‘Well, it’s a beginning.’

A week later I packed shorts, T-shirts, sweaters, buckets, spades, baked beans, favourite cereals, teddy bears and alphabet spaghetti into the car, loaded Eve, a map and the boys into it and drove out of London.

We were heading for Priac Bay in Cornwall. To be more specific, we were going to the house where Nathan and Rose had holidayed every year. It had been neither an easy, nor a difficult decision to make because it had not been a decision in the formal sense. I had never been to Priac Bay – I distrusted the idea of it. ‘For God’s sake,’ I had protested to Paige in the past, when Nathan had brought up the subject of going there. ‘It was where he took his first family.’

Paige had been suitably shocked. ‘Is he stupid? Or very limited in the imagination department?’

Yet I knew I had to take the boys and myself to a place where Nathan had been happy, so I had got on the phone and arranged it.

It was raining, a light spume, when three hundred or so murderous miles later the car jolted down the unmade road that led to the cottage. Stupefied and bored, Felix and Lucas were silent in the back.

The world was drenched. The horizon was wiped out by mist, and the sea roared with white crests. The slate tiles on the roof gleamed, there were damp patches sprouting on the grey walls and the plants in the garden dripped.

Eve drew the sleeves of her jersey further down her wrists. ‘It’s cold, Minty.’

I, too, was cold, with apprehension and worry. We felt worse when we discovered that two of the bedrooms were damp, the plumbing questionable and the nearest shops several miles away. Eve and I did our best. We made beds, unpacked, stacked the buckets and spades by the front door. We ate a scratch supper of beans and fried eggs, watched rain sweep across the grey sea and listened to the gulls.

‘Daddy came here,’ I told the boys. ‘Lots. For his holidays.’

‘Daddy,’ said Felix, and his blue eyes darkened. ‘Daddy.’

After a moment, Lucas asked, ‘Am I sitting in Daddy’s chair?’

‘It’s possible. It looks as though it’s been here for a long time.’

Eve chased a bean round her plate.

In the morning Eve and I led the boys down the steep path to the tiny beach. After the rain, the mud was as sticky as toffee, and the boys squealed with joy. As we slid and slithered down, moisture from the thick clumps of vegetation seeped into our clothes. The air was heavy with salt. The leaves and branches as we brushed past smelt of it and left its residue on our lips.

Down on the beach, the tide was retreating, leaving dark patches on the stones. Gulls screamed overhead. The boys ran madly up and down, calling to each other. I sat on a rock and watched them.

My feet were wet and, under my jacket, I was shivering almost uncontrollably. Nathan had loved this place. That much I knew, but little else. I had never asked why, or which was his favourite spot, the best bay to swim. I had been silent. Metaphorically, I had turned my back. ‘You know, Minty, you don’t know me very well at all,’ he had once accused me.

If only I had taken the time to answer him. If only I had sat down, there and then, and said, ‘Let’s talk, Nathan. Tell me.’

To find myself, so ordinarily materialistic and without grace, at the mercy of such pain, impotence and ugliness was bewildering – it was like being dashed this way and that in a tide as strong as the one peeling back the water from the sand.

Eve beckoned to Felix. ‘Felix, come. There is something here.’ They huddled together and inspected an object in the sand.

Lucas circled them. He was cross and sang very loudly, ‘Look at me. Look at me.’

Long ago in the Vistemax office, before the sea-change had taken place in me, I had told Rose, ‘I don’t have a family. Who wants one? I don’t have children. Why hang a millstone round your neck?’ Now I had a family, and the intolerable weight of the millstone tugged and pulled at every bone and muscle.

‘Mum!’ White legs flashing under his green shorts, hair pushed off his forehead by the wind, Felix came over the shingle towards me with a goosefleshed arm outstretched. ‘See what I’ve got.’

He unclasped his hand to reveal a perfect mermaid’s purse.

After lunch of bread and cheese, the boys were chased upstairs and put to bed for a rest. I left Eve grimly washing up and complaining of the lack of hot water, got into the car and went to find provisions.

The nearest supermarket was on the outskirts of Penzance. It was busy and noisy. This was the beginning (as Paige would have it) of the new economy, a different fiscal regime. I chose cut-price jam and chicken breasts, the least expensive butter, and every own-brand that I could bear to buy.

I drove away, slightly nauseous. The wind had dropped, and warmth from the sun had crept into the still air. The sea had turned into a gentle wash. It was a beautiful day, and out at sea, boats of all sizes were scudding across the water.

When I got back, Eve had taken the boys down to the beach, and I could hear their shouts. I unpacked slowly and awkwardly, unable to shake off an overpowering, almost frightening feeling that Nathan was in the cottage.

In the end, I snatched up my jacket and went outside. The coastal path passed directly in front of the cottage, and I headed towards the point. After a while, I increased my pace until I was almost running, my feet bouncing over the turf and stones. The sun was blinding, and the sea, shallow near the cliffs, a transparent turquoise. The seabirds wheeled and dived noisily to the rocks. As I rounded a corner, the wind hit me and I slithered to a halt.

I smelt sea and turf and the freshness of the air. I faced the bay, where water, rock and vegetation shimmered, a mysterious and beautiful trinity. I knew that Nathan had been there. Maybe he had stood exactly where I was now and my feet were planted in the ghostly imprint of his.

I stood and listened to the unfamiliar music made by the wind and the waves. Its chords beat in my ears and, unwillingly, suspiciously, then with relief, I gave myself up to its sensations.

I knew then why Nathan had come to Priac Bay. Why he had loved it so.

A week later, we returned to Lakey Street late in the evening, almost speechless and dirty from the journey, and fell into bed.

I woke to find Lucas on my bed, wrapped in his duvet, which he must have dragged in. Reluctantly, I focused. ‘Hello, sweetie. How long have you been there?’

‘Ages and ages.’ His treble voice piped in the silence. ‘Why didn’t you wake up, Mummy?’

‘Because I was tired.’

‘I wanted you to wake up.’

I knew Lucas was trying to ask me something, but I was unsure what it was. ‘You’d better come in.’ I lifted up the edge of the duvet and Lucas, importing the morning chill, climbed in. He snuggled into me, and I smelt sand, salt and seaweed.

I waited.

‘Do you think Daddy can see us?’ His voice wavered.

I squinted down at him. He stared back, trying so hard to be composed. ‘Probably.’ Then I collected my wits. He wanted certainties. ‘Yes,’ I said.

‘I can’t see him.’ His fair, rather stubby eyebrows twitched into the frown that was becoming habitual.

I stroked the skin between his eyes until the frown was smoothed away. ‘We have to believe he’s there.’

Lucas edged closer to me, and I slipped my arm round him. ‘Daddy was nice, wasn’t he?’

‘Very’

‘Millie says her daddy is bad. He went away too. Daddies shouldn’t go away.’

‘Sometimes they can’t help it, Lukey.’ Lukey… Nathan’s name for him. ‘Your daddy couldn’t help it. You must remember that. It’s different for Millie’s daddy.’

Lucas considered. ‘Millie’s daddy said he couldn’t help it.’

I pulled Lucas as close as I possibly could. ‘Lukey, you must listen to what I say. Millie’s daddy is different from yours. Yours would never have left you unless… unless he had no choice.’

I was thankful that neither Poppy nor Sam could hear me.

‘Will I get a new daddy?’ Lucas asked.

I spooned my body round him. He was tense, and there was a lick of sweat by his hairline. Every one of his bones was so fragile, and I was shaken by terror for his safety. ‘No, sweetie-pie. You only have one daddy.’

Outside the bedroom, the sun made an appearance. Fastened on to me, Lucas relaxed, his breathing slowed and he tumbled into one of those instant childish sleeps.

Cautiously, I eased myself out of bed and went into the boys’ room to check on Felix. He wasn’t there.

Oh, my God, where was he?

Then I spotted him at the bottom of the stairs, which faced the front door, sitting bolt upright. He was dressed, sort of, in one blue sock, and a T-shirt squashed over his pyjama top. His treasured, tatty bit of blanket was scrunched between his knees, and he clasped his teddy bear to his chest.

He was sitting utterly still, with an air of saint-like patience and expectation, of determination far beyond his years.

I ran down the stairs, sat beside him, my heart fluttering with anxiety. ‘What are you doing, Felix?’ I pulled him close. ‘You gave Mummy a fright. I didn’t know where you were.’

At my touch, Felix stirred, and seemed to return from somewhere far away. His eyes were so blue, so trusting, so bright. ‘I’m waiting for Daddy to show him my treasure,’ he said, and opened his hand in which lay the mermaid’s purse.