The Second Wife aka Wives Behaving Badly

23

I worked late into the night on the resurrected Middle Age idea. ‘ If we accept that time is an artificial construct,’ I wrote in my notes, ‘then what matters is experience. Experience is what tempers us and helps us to carry our mistakes. It also helps us to understand that death, which is waiting, informs life.’

Was that correct? Did I believe it? As a theory it sounded good, and convincing, and the people to whom it applied were the cream of the earth: the rounded, complete, mature personalities. It would be nice to think that I was among them.

I pushed aside the notes. The idea required further work because it was still gestating. It needed time to grow wings.

I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, which required cutting – goodness knew when that would be possible.

What had Nathan been right about?

What had he and Rose agreed about me?

I was on the switchback again.

I went to make some tea and, on the way, glanced up at the landing where the ironing-board was and where Rose, when she lived here, had placed her desk. She was still in this house, Nathan too.

I put the kettle on, unlocked the back door and went outside into the summer night.

What had Nathan and Rose decided between them?

I sat down on the bench and ran my fingernail along the table. There was lichen growing on it, and it needed scrubbing. I remembered Nathan sitting opposite me at this table. We had been married for three years and one day. Because it was such a warm evening, we were having supper outside, seafood pasta – I was eating the seafood without the pasta – and we had embarked on a negotiation as to where we should take a holiday.

‘I want somewhere hot,’ I said, as I always did so my pitch held no surprises.

He dug his fork into the pasta, twirled it expertly, then lifted it to his mouth. ‘And I want to go Cornwall,’ he said, as he always did.

‘I’ve looked up a place on Rhodes. Nice villa by the sea. The boys would like it.’

‘The boys are too young. When we took Sam and Poppy…’ Nathan did not continue. He put down his fork and looked everywhere but at me.

That was the moment when a voice in me articulated clearly, ‘Do you realize you’ve taken on enough history to fill a library?’

I got up, went inside and rattled in the cupboard for salt. I was ashamed and devastated by the revelation and also, curiously, calm because everything was now crystal-clear.

Nathan would never let go of his past life, could never let go.

He followed me into the kitchen. ‘Minty, this has got to stop. I can’t pretend I didn’t have Poppy and Sam.’

‘No,’ I said.

Upstairs, one of the twins called. Nathan and I turned our heads in the direction of his cry. ‘You or me?’ asked Nathan.

On that at least we were united.

Now, in the kitchen, I ran hot water into the sink and plunged my chilled hands into it. Then I boiled the kettle and took a cup of camomile tea up to bed where I drank it. I switched off the light and lay down. After a while, I put out my arm and let it rest in the space that Nathan should have occupied.

Rose did not reply to the messages I left on her answer-phone. I allowed two days to elapse. Then I took myself round to her flat after work.

She answered the door. She was dressed in a skirt I recognized from Prada, a leopard-print cardigan, and a necklace of large wooden beads. She looked wonderful, and not very surprised. ‘I suspected you’d turn up sooner or later.’

She did not invite me in, so I summoned my best brand of gall. ‘You didn’t answer my calls. I’ve come to sort things out.’

Rose kept her hand on the door, and I said, ‘Rose, if we get this over and done with, then it’ll be over and done with.’

Eventually she stepped aside. ‘Come in.’

The sitting room was a mass of flowers and smelt gorgeous. ‘I’ve just landed a one-off slot on a gardening series for television,’ she explained. ‘I’m doing small city gardens. People have been kind and sent flowers.’

‘Who with?’

‘The Activities Channel, but it’s being made by Papillon. It probably won’t get a large audience, but you have to grab these opportunities. Anyway, it’ll be fun.’

‘Papillon? That must be Deb.’ I glanced at the label on a huge bunch of lilies, which read, ‘Love from Hal’. ‘How is Hal?’ I asked.

‘Fine. Busy’.

‘I often wondered if you’d marry him.’

‘As it happens, he has asked me.’ Rose pointed to the blue chair. ‘Sit down, Minty.’

I avoided the blue chair where Nathan had died and sat on the sofa. ‘Why not marry him?’

‘I like what I am. I’m fine as I am. I don’t want change anything,’ Rose replied, but her voice was not entirely steady. ‘Hal’s the sort of person who never leaves you, and he hasn’t. So…’ She fell silent. ‘I don’t know what to think. I may or may not. Probably not. I don’t want the disruption. I’ve got used to thinking of myself as independent.’ A flash of uncertainty and doubt. ‘It’s difficult at my age… so…’ She switched the subject. ‘Say whatever you want to say, then go. Let’s not waste each other’s time.’

My mouth and throat were dry, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask her for a drink. ‘I want to know about you and Nathan.’

‘Nathan and I were married. We had two children. I had a good job. Then I hired you and brought you home to meet him over spaghetti. You know the rest.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s not what I am asking.’

Rose was keeping something back. The light played on her honey hair and creamy skin. In the past, Nathan had touched that hair and skin. They had belonged to him.

Thirsty, and burning with humiliation, I asked the question that had to be asked: ‘Rose, did you take Nathan back as a lover?’

Rose shifted in the chair. Slender but not too slender, toned and groomed, she was a world away from the frazzled working mother I had first encountered in the Vistemax office. Yet she was vulnerable too. It’s difficult at my age. And vulnerability had its own eroticism. Of course Nathan would have wanted her back.

She placed her hand on her chest in the region of the heart. ‘It feels like a stone sitting on my chest, mourning Nathan. Like a gigantic attack of indigestion.’

‘I know,’ I said.

We could ask each other, Do you weep for him, like I do?

‘Do you?’

You’re not answering the question.’

‘That’s because I’m not going to.’

I bit my lip. ‘Tell me, Rose. What was it you and Nathan decided?’

‘He said you were ambitious.’

‘So was he at my age. So were you. You had a fight with him about going back to work.’

The hand on her chest curled into a ball. ‘It’s irrelevant now. Old, old ground and I don’t wish to go over it.’

‘Old ground for you, perhaps.’ I closed my eyes for a second. ‘But Nathan didn’t like it, and it was a source of friction.’

‘For God’s sake, Minty, what do you want?’

‘I suppose…’ I said miserably ‘… I want to tell you that he wasn’t really happy with me. And that he regretted leaving you.’ I hesitated, and then I forced out the words through gritted teeth. ‘Did he come back into your bed?’ Rose made a noise between a laugh and gasp, but I ploughed on: ‘Nathan had been there so many times before…’ Yes, he had shared the everyday language of small noises and touch with Rose. He had listened to her breathing in the night, heard her clean her teeth, fill the kettle… ‘It wouldn’t have been such a big step.’ Rose held up a hand to stop me, but I ignored it. ‘I could never share the long history you had with him. I could never compete. You were always there, ahead of me. Always.’

‘Stop it, Minty.’

I had wit enough left to obey her.

Rose flashed a wry smile. ‘I want never gets.’ It was a saying we’d used often in the office. Once. Years ago. Timon, the editor, had always wanted more books, fewer books, different ones. I want never gets. Except, in that case, ‘I want’ usually did get. She continued, ‘When Nathan first told me he was having an affair with you, I asked him why he’d told me. If someone’s having an affair, they should be very clever and very secret. I still believe that.’

‘Nevertheless I need to know.’

Rose’s smile had vanished. She leant towards me to emphasize her point, and I smelt her jasmine scent. ‘I don’t have to tell you anything, Minty.’ She spoke without malice, almost gently. ‘You lost the right to my confidences long ago. I don’t have to discuss anything with you and I certainly don’t feel I have to help you sort things out.’

She got up and disappeared through the door, then returned with a bottle and glasses on a tray. ‘You’d better have some of this. Hal brought it from Italy.’

As I accepted a glass, my blouse dug into the flesh under my arm. ‘The boys ask after you quite a lot.’

Quick as lightning, I picked up the flash of delight that lit her face. ‘The boys…’ Her voice was soft, almost possessive. ‘They are sweet.’

My instinct was to hiss, ‘Keep off my sons.’ Unreasonable, I knew. I looked down at my hands and struggled for mastery of myself. ‘Old friendships and old loyalties. Do you remember? You talked about them at that supper when I first met Nathan. How hard it is to shake them off.’

She smiled grimly. ‘Believe me, I could shake you off, Minty, with no trouble at all. It wouldn’t take much.’

She meant it, and I flushed – not with anger but despair. As the woman who had pinched her husband, I was culpable, pitiable and all the other things that Rose cared to name. And yet all those years ago, I had witnessed her rush into the office, too-pink lipstick smudged, sweater ill-fitting, swearing that Nathan/the children had been difficult/demanding/cross, and I’d thought it was the other way round.

I drank my wine, and looked around the room. In its calm, ordered magnolia and cream, with the blue touches here and there, it reflected what Rose had become. And it was a room that had been arranged entirely to the satisfaction of its occupant. ‘There are advantages to living alone,’ I remarked.

She understood what I meant. ‘Actually, yes.’

We exchanged a glance. Funnily enough, we do understand each other Rose put down her glass and said, ‘Nathan and I were married for a long time. We knew each other well. Just as… just as… you and I do. It was easy to pick up conversations.’ She got up and walked over to the window ‘My life with Nathan was private until you came along. If our marriage had bad patches, and areas of blindness, it was ours and it worked, until you prised it apart. Then everyone took a good look, and it was open house.’ She turned and stared at me, calm and steady. ‘You’ll admit that I don’t owe you anything, Minty. No explanations. No loyalty.’

‘Nathan came here because he wanted comfort, and conversation,’ I cried. ‘He didn’t find them with me. Your bed would have been a natural progression.’

She leant her forehead against the curtain. ‘Could be.’ She sighed. ‘Why don’t you stop now and go away?’

‘Because I’m angry with myself, Rose, but I’m also angry with Nathan.’

She swung round sharply on her heel. ‘Didn’t you once say to me that Nathan is dead – dead? Didn’t you? In your so-matter-of-fact way?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Then leave him alone. Give him some peace.’

‘You’re right. I shouldn’t be here.’

‘Quite,’ she said coldly. She poured a second glass of wine and hugged it to her chest. I made no move, and she said, ‘Aren’t you going? Go.’

What did the self-help manuals have to say on the subject of the second wife apologizing to the first? Those books that encouraged people to believe they could take a grip on their lives and make changes, that concocted dazzling fantasies of resolution, forgiveness and other castles in the air?

‘I want to say sorry to you,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t realize what I’d done until I’d married Nathan and had the boys. Then it all seemed different, particularly when I grasped how disappointed Nathan was… at times. He used to look at me sometimes, and I could see how he hated what he’d done. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for me, but that he’d realized how much he cared for the things he’d discarded.’

Nathan had used Rose badly. I had used Rose badly. I already knew that the full import of one’s transgressions don’t really hit home until years after the event. The manuals don’t mention that one. It was probably too complicated a subject for them to tackle.

‘Poor Minty,’ said Rose, and her irony cut me to the quick. She remained hunched over her wine, neither drinking it nor looking in my direction. ‘You were welcome to him,’ she admitted. ‘He had hurt me so much. Sometimes I thought I’d die of the hurt. But you know the aphorism “This, too, will pass”? It’s true, it does. Thank God. When he turned up here on the day he died, I didn’t make him particularly welcome. Actually, I didn’t want him here. I was busy. He could see that, and he was disappointed. But I didn’t feel I had any reason to put myself out. I had spent so long shaking free, and Nathan’s problems were not mine… I could no longer engage with him, not in the way he wanted… Actually, I blame myself for that.’

‘It was a shame,’ I managed. To be unwanted when you are dying must be terribly hard…

She gave a choking sound. ‘For God’s sake, he left me for you. Remember?’ She turned an anguished face towards me. ‘Remember?’

‘I think of it most of the time. Never more so than now.’

Rose made a visible effort. ‘You have the twins to consider. Sam and Poppy suffered. You may think that they were too old, but they weren’t and they did. I blame you and Nathan for that. There was nothing I could do to help them. You can’t inflict your anger and mistakes on your children.’ She twirled her glass between her fingers. ‘I won’t let you.’

A tiny pulse beat in Rose’s temple and, no doubt, one did in mine. I fixed on the blank television screen in the corner of the room. ‘I’m truly sorry about Poppy and Sam.’ For good measure, I threw in, ‘Poppy’s taken it out on me. She’s a fighter.’

Rose bent down and picked up a tiny mother-of-pearl button. ‘That’s Poppy for you. Sam’s struggling a bit at the moment. I’m a little worried about him and Jilly… The job in America has thrown them both. They seemed so good for each other, but you never know. I want to be around to help, but I’m busy earning a living and getting on with my life and they have to sort themselves out.’ Her voice was tender. ‘Much… much as I love them.’

The tenderness excluded me. ‘They’re growing older, as I am, Rose, and more invisible.’

‘Just as I felt, then.’ She added, in a kinder voice, ‘Grief saps the confidence, Minty. I can tell you that. But it can be fine in the end. Believe me.’ She gestured at the room. ‘When Nathan left, I felt I’d failed myself and the children, but I survived. It took blood and tears, but I did it.’ She balanced the button on the palm of her hand. ‘Nathan did what he wanted to do. I failed to see that he was changing. And why shouldn’t he change? It was his right. But I didn’t see it then. So, it wasn’t all your fault, you know.’ She was letting me off the hook, a little.

The wine had loosened my tongue. ‘Roger and Gisela Gard came to dinner once. Believe it or not, I was playing office politics. One of the twins was naughty and Nathan dealt with it. I saw Roger watching him and I could almost hear him thinking, This is a man who’s lost his stuffing and brimstone, and the thought flashed through my mind that it was better to be dead than a failure.’ I put down my wine glass. ‘The question is, did I wish Nathan’s death on him, Rose? Did I?’

Rose swirled her wine round her glass. ‘When Nathan left, I thought how much easier it would have been as a widow rather than a dumped wife. For a start, no one could have said it was my fault, unless I’d fed him hamburger and chips every night. If he’d died, the situation would have been easier to handle.’

‘Yes.’

She put down her glass, and the gold ring gleamed. ‘I still would have lost my job to you, wouldn’t I?’

‘Probably,’ I conceded. Τ wanted it and I reckoned loyalty in the office was an old-fashioned concept.’

‘And now?’

I thought of Chris Sharp. ‘Much the same.’ I looked down at the carpet. ‘Was Nathan trying to humiliate me when he asked that you be made the boys’ guardian?’

‘Perhaps he was thinking of what was best for them.’

‘Perhaps.’

Rose took my hand. The touch of her flesh on mine was unexpected. ‘Minty, what you don’t understand is… I had got away. Finally. At last. I had stopped dreaming about Nathan. I wasn’t about to involve myself in his life again. I had cut him off.’

I allowed my hand to rest in hers and told her what festered in my mind. ‘I never loved him, Rose, not truly. Not really truly. Not heart, soul, body and mind. He knew he was getting older and wanted different things, and I wasn’t going to make it easy. If I’d loved him, I would have let him… oh, go to Cornwall, a million things.’ My fingers pressed Rose’s. ‘I think he felt desperately alone.’

Rose took away her hand. ‘I’m going to show you a letter, Minty.’ She went to the desk in the corner, picked up a small Jiffy-bag, pulled out an envelope and handed it to me.

I spread out two closely written sheets of paper. ‘My dearest Rose…’ Didn’t ‘Dearest’ mean closest to my heart?

I have no right to ask what I am going to ask, but I have an idea it might be necessary. If you receive this letter, which I am lodging with Theo, then I will have judged correctly.

I am writing to ask you to remember that you were once good friends with Minty. If you are reading this, it means she is on her own with the twins. Of course, I have no idea how long that might be for. When I came over to see you in the flat, I asked you if you would be a guardian if anything should happen to me and to her, and the boys were still under age, and you said you would consider it. I can’t think of anyone better to ask. It is a huge thing to lay on you, especially given our history, but I know you through and through, Rose, and there is no one I trust more…

For a moment, I could not continue. ‘Oh, Nathan…’

‘Are you OK?’ asked Rose.

I nodded.

All I can say in mitigation for my actions towards you is that the complications of feelings and impulse take us to strange places. They certainly took me away from you, whom I loved, to Minty. But I loved Minty, too, and I want to say the following. There is so much in her to admire (you spotted it first when you became friends) and that still holds true. It has been difficult for her, and not as she expected. Thus, I ask you again, if she ever needs it and asks you for help with the boys, or even if she doesn’t ask you, please will you do it?

I put down the letter, picked up my bag and got to my feet. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this? I know I hurt you beyond words, but you should have told me.’

Rose’s response was short and simple. ‘Yes.’

‘It would have made everything easier to bear.’

‘Yes, I suppose it would. But I wasn’t thinking about you, Minty.’

So Rose had taken her revenge on me with her silence, and I could have expected no better and no less.

My head swam, and I wanted very badly to go home. I managed to say, ‘He knew I never loved him properly. Truly, properly.’ I was weeping openly. ‘It’s in the letter.’

Rose folded it and put it on the desk. ‘When he left me, I stopped loving Nathan the way he wanted. It was inevitable. There was no other way of surviving.’

We looked at each other. In that exchange lay the past we had shared, mourned and regretted. She picked up the Jiffy-bag. ‘One more thing. He asked Theo to send this to me. I think it’s a diary of sorts. I haven’t read it, Minty. Or only a little bit. I couldn’t. You should take it.’ She placed the envelope in my hands and I peered inside. It was the missing notebook.

That, too, had gone to Rose.

The hardest thing of all to govern is the heart and I had finally understood that I couldn’t blame Nathan for the struggle with his. If one’s own nature and impulses are unfathomable, then to reach into other minds to make sense of the rage, passion and loyalties that lie within them is impossible. In our separate ways, Rose, Nathan and I had cheated each other and, in doing so, cheated ourselves.

‘We must try harder, Rose, to make something out of this,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we must.’

On my return to the house the boys, who had been watching for me at the window, ran out to greet me. I scooped them up, and hustled them inside. Then I closed the front door, leant against it and breathed deeply.