“They’re not your family are they?”
“Jean—I think you need to consider your actions carefully.”
“But you make it sound like I’m doing something wrong.”
Jean shifted in her chair, unable to get comfortable. Maybe the note-taking was taking things too far. But she needed to remind herself of what she saw.
“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or alarm you, but I just want you to think about what you’re doing. How it may seem.”
“And how is that?”
“That you may have a severe grudge against your daughter-in-law.”
Jean’s stomach churned. “That’s not what this is about.”
“But you can’t actually explain what your problem is with her can you?”
“That’s why I took the notes.”
“You should talk to your husband about this.”
“What’s the point when he won’t listen?” Jean stood up and walked towards the window. “You’re not listening to me either. I shouldn’t have come. Actually, I think it’s best that we forget about this altogether.”
Jean grabbed her notebook out of Sierra’s hand. Sierra stood up and tried to stop her.
“Jean, I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re doing really well.”
“I won’t be coming again.”
Jean dashed out of the office and found herself gasping for breath on the street. Pressing the pedestrian crossing button, she darted across the busy main road and headed down one of the side streets. Once she’d stopped, she located her car in the car park and sat inside for a moment. She just needed a moment on her own. Her bag was on the passenger seat. She took out the notebook and started reading the various notes she’d written about her daughter-in-law. The things she’d said, the list of things Jean believed she’d done wrong. There were a number of things. Jean had recorded it all. Everything she said to Jean, including her jibes and bitter jokes. The aftershave incident, the night Jean saw her in her garden, watching her. Purposely stopping her seeing the boys when Jean wanted to see them. The time Jean saw Derek talking to her in the garden. And the fact that he’d never mentioned it. Jean had every wretched moment recorded on paper and in her mind.
Emma was not going take her husband and her family away from her like she’d taken Eddie. Jean was not prepared to let that happen. She’d fight for her grandsons until the bitter end. Flicking through the pages, Jean wrote down today’s date and then put the diary back in her bag. Everyone may think she was crazy, but Emma was bound to slip up one day. And for Jean, that day couldn’t come soon enough.
Derek was sitting at the kitchen table, looking at his phone. Jean had prepared soup and bread rolls for dinner. She wasn’t in the mood to prepare anything else. Besides, it was cold outside, and the soup was warm and comforting.
Once she’d put the bowls of soup onto the table, she sat down and couldn’t look at Derek.
“Good day?” he asked.
“You know how it is.”
“It’s going to take time you know.”
A brief flash of a saddened smile crossed Jean’s face.
“I know.”
Derek sipped his soup. “Maybe we should go out for dinner one evening. Get out of the house.”
It had been ages since she and Derek had been out to dinner.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
Derek smiled. “And it will give us the chance to put all of this business behind us.”
“How do you mean?”
“All this stuff with Emma. The sooner you two can kiss and make up, the better. I’m not angry that she told me about your therapy. At least you’re getting the help you need.”
Jean cleared her throat. “I’m quite you see it that way.”
“A friend was telling me about this forum online. It’s where a group of grieving mothers get together and offer each other support. You should try it. Every little bit helps.”
Jean sipped her water. “I thought you didn’t agree with therapy?”
“I didn’t before. But speaking to Emma, she made me see that it’s not that bad really. And if it helps you, then I should support you.”
Jean wanted to spit. Those were Emma’s words, not Derek’s.
“So she spoke to you.”
“Well in a matter of speaking.”
“You’ll listen to her, but you won’t listen to me.”
“Come on, Jean.”
“You didn’t want to discuss it the other morning. In fact, you barely want to discuss anything with me these days.”
“Isn’t it any wonder,” Derek muttered under his breath.
“What?”
Derek pounded his fist against the table top.
“I can’t talk to you. Because every time I try, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”
“Don’t you dare make this about me, Derek? You’ve been making secret calls to Emma, and I want to know why.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jean threw her spoon down and stood up. “I saw you the other day in the garden. You were on the phone, and you looked tensed and worried. So that night I checked your phone, and it was Emma you were talking to.”
Derek’s nose wrinkled. “You checked my phone?”
“Yes, I did. Because you’ve been hiding things from me.”
“Where has this come from?”
“What were you talking about?”
Derek got up and stormed into the living room. Jean followed him.
“I can’t believe you checked my phone. Why would you do that? Don’t you trust me?”
Jean grimaced and slightly shook her head. “You’ve never given me any reason not to until now. Until I saw you talking to her.”
“Jean, it’s not what you think. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.”
Derek shook his head. “I’m not having an affair with Emma.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing like that.”
“Tell me what is going on?”
“If you must she’s worried about you being around the boys.”
“Being around the boys? What do you mean she’s worried about me being around the boys?”
He repeatedly swallowed, trying to find the right thing to say.
“It’s the way you’ve been behaving, Jean. Emma said the boys are scared of you. That’s why she hasn’t been around lately. If you must know I was defending you. Telling her, she’s nothing to worry about. But I’m not sure now.”
“Let me get this right. Emma wants to stop me from seeing the boys?”
Suddenly, Jean’s muscles felt sore. Derek sat down at the dining table. His head in his hands.
“Like I said she’s worried about you.”
“Like hell she is.”
Jean, stop this.”
“No, Derek. She can’t do this. I won’t let her.”
“There’s not a lot you can do is there. Unless you start meeting her halfway.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let her get on with her life.”
“But she’s got my grandchildren?”
“Jean, you haven’t got any choice. If you don’t stop hate campaign against Emma, she’ll make things difficult for you. Is that what you want? Do you think that’s what Eddie would have wanted?”
Jean nodded as Derek got up and held her.
“What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to leave everything to me. I’ll sort it out. You can’t do this alone.”
As Jean rested her head on Derek’s chest, all she could she could see in her confused mind was a picture of Emma’s face, smiling at her.
Chapter 15
“Are you okay?” Derek asked Jean the following Monday morning.
Jean was sitting at the dining table in the living room, pouring milk onto her cornflakes. She hadn’t really spoken to him that morning.
“I’m just nervous abo
ut work,” Jean said.
“You’ve nothing to be nervous about.”
Jean gazed at him. “Grief changes everything. You can think you know something, and then discover you never really knew it at all.”
Derek’s eyebrows squished together. “Right, well, I better be off to work myself.”
Jean smiled faintly as he kissed her on the cheek.
“Have a good day,” she said.
“You too, my love.”
Jean went back to work. Though the idea of liaising with colleagues and patients unnerved her, but it got her out of the house and stopped her thinking about Emma.
Alison agreed that she'd work part-time until she was able to increase her hours. Jean was fine with that. She agreed to work Monday, Wednesday’s and Thursdays, one to five-thirty pm. That shift pattern suited her fine as she settled back in.
She was glad to be back. As soon as arrived, it felt like home. Francis was in the kitchen making everyone coffee. While Jean had been away, a new receptionist called Natasha had been appointed. She was standing at the receptionist desk, waiting for openning time so she could let the patients in. Jean could already see them through the windows.
"I'm so glad you're back," Francis said as she handed Jean her coffee. "It's not been the same without you."
"I've missed you all," Jean replied. "Thanks for the coffee."
"You're welcome. What do you think of Natasha then?"
"She seems okay. A little lively, but I don't doubt that will do us some good."
"I suppose so. A bit scatterbrained though."
"Give the girl a chance. This is probably her first real job. It will be an experience for her."
"Jean Saunders, the voice of reason."
"Hardly."
"How are things at home?" Francis asked.
"We're getting there."
"It's going to be fine. I can't imagine what you're family have been through. But once you stick together then it will be alright."
"Thanks."
"I better go and sort these files out."
"I'm not quite sure what I'm to do today."
"I think Alison just wants you manage reception today with Natasha."
"Okay, I think I can manage that."
Francis went off to her desk and Jean went to the reception and started tending to patients. She was back in her element. Many of them were happy to see her and for a moment, she could forget about Emma.
It was hard not to give her any thought, but Jean had to focus on her work.
As the morning progressed and the patient cue lengthened, Jean was getting on with checking everyone in and letting the doctors know their patients had arrived. Just like the staff, Jean got on well with many of the doctors that worked at the surgery. In particular, DR Harris who Jean had known for years, and his father was her mother's doctor.
It was one of the reasons she liked working at the surgery. It was like a family.
But as Jean looked ahead in the cue, she noticed someone. A tall, dark-haired man was standing behind Mrs Grayson, an elderly patient of DR Harris.
It was Eddie. Jean was sure of it. But how can she be sure when Eddie was dead. Jean gripped her mouth as the young man smiled at her. She must have been going mad.
“Mrs Saunders,” she heard Natasha say. “Are you okay?”
Jean suddenly realised where she was. Gazing at Natasha, Jean felt dizzy, restless, and a tingling in her limbs.
"Excuse me," Jean said to Natasha.
Jean went into the toilets and bent over the sink. Was she losing her mind? That can't have been Eddie, as she knew he was gone. But for a moment, seeing that smile on that young man's face brightened her heart. Because she wanted to believe he was still with her, just for one moment.
Somehow, Jean had managed to make it through the work day. When she arrived home that evening, she saw Derek and Emma laughing in the kitchen. She was holding a cup of tea. Jean took off her coat and hung it up, before she entered the kitchen.
“Evening, love?” Derek said.
Jean gave a half-smile. “Evening.”
Emma sipped her tea, and stopped engaging with Derek immediately, as though Jean had interrupted a private joke.
“How was work?” Derek asked.
“Fine,” Jean said.
“Oh yes, you went back to work today didn’t you?” Emma added. “Good for you. It will do you good, getting back in the swing of things.”
Coming from anyone else, that comment wouldn’t have offended Jean. But every word that came out of Emma’s mouth felt like a dig at her.
“Yes,” Jean replied to her statement. “Where are the boys?”
“I dropped them off in town, told them to have a look around the shops. See if there was anything they fancied.”
There was a moment where everyone paused. And then Emma erupted into a fit of laughter, followed by Derek.
“Your face,” Emma said.
“Honestly, Jean, you didn’t think she was telling the truth did you?” Derek asked.
The two of them continued laughing, but it was plainly obvious that the joke was on her. When they realised that Jean wasn’t laughing with them, they both stopped.
“They’re in the living room, Jean,” Emma said.
Derek looked at Emma nervously. “Emma has cooked us a lasagne for dinner. That’s nice of her isn’t it?”
Jean glanced at the oven door. “Marvellous. I’ll just go and see the boys.”
Jean turned and went into the living room. She was sure she could hear Derek and Emma laughing. William and Jack were sitting on the couch watching TV. There were two glasses of milk on the coffee table. When they saw her, they both leapt up and ran into her arms. Jean squeezed them tightly, thinking about the young man she saw at the medical centre. These were her boys, who she lived for now. Who reminded so much of the son she’d lost.
Once she let them go, they returned to the couch and continued to watch the TV. Jean didn’t return to the kitchen, Derek didn’t seem to notice her anyway. She went upstairs and took the make-up off the face. She just wanted to freshen up. Take the troubles, not there were many, of her face. She also just wanted it to be her and Derek. Eating a meal together, talking about the day, moving forward. It seemed as though Emma was visiting quite regularly. Everywhere Jean turned, she was there. She just wanted her home, to herself.
But she realised that excluding Emma would mean excluding the boys, and that to Jean seemed inconsolable.
As she sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair, she was sure she saw the door handle twisting.
“Hello?”
Jean continued to brush her hair and there it was again. The door handle twisting. Jean got up and went to the door and pulled it open, there was nobody there. Stepping onto the landing, she bent over the bannister and could hear Derek and Emma laughing in the kitchen. She went into the bathroom, the two other spare bedrooms, and the cubby hole. There was no-one there. The TV was still on in the lounge. The boys were still in there. As she went back into the bedroom, she left the door ajar, and sat back down on the bed, and watched the door handle.
“Would you like some more wine, Jean?” Emma asked.
Jean looked up from her lasagne. It tasted delicious, but she wasn’t hungry.
“No, thanks. One glass is enough for me.”
Emma put the wine bottle down. “Are you okay?”
“I’m just tired that’s all.”
“I understand, it’s been a testing day for you hasn’t it?” Emma asked.
Jean gazed at her. “What do you mean by that?”
Derek looked at Emma, and then at Jean. “She just meant that with you going back to work after….”
“My son dying?”
Silence followed, and then Emma touched Jean’s hand. “It’s okay Jean. We all know how hard this has been for you. You don’t have to pretend around us. We’re your family.”
Something about that made Jean feel cold. She sipped her wine.
&
nbsp; “Emma’s right, love,” Derek said. “We don’t want you taking on more than you can cope with.”
“I’m coping just fine, thank you. Like I said, I’m tired. I just wanted to come home and curl up on the sofa, and watch rubbish on TV.”
Derek shifted nervously in his chair. Emma’s eyebrows drew together. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“Don’t be daft,” Derek said.
“I just thought a nice meal with the boys would do some good.”
“I have no problem with seeing the boys,” Jean said.
Emma’s chin tilted defensively higher, and she turned her chin slightly away. “So it’s me you don’t want to see.”
“No, she didn’t mean that,” Derek said.
Emma rose from her seat, dropped her tissue in her plate, and clapped her hands for the boys to come to her. They were on the couch, having eaten earlier.
“You don’t have to leave,” Jean said.
“I think it’s for the best,” Emma said.
“Maybe they can stay here tonight,” Jean said. “I can take them to school in the morning.”
They were walking into the hall. Emma was grabbing their coats off the coat rack.
“Maybe not, Jean. I think you need to rest. We don’t want anything upsetting the boys.”
“I’d never upset the boys. Ever.”
“Jean, just leave it,” Derek said.
Emma opened the front door and ushered the boys out.
“Say goodbye to Granny and Grandpa,” Emma said.
Derek and Jean hugged William and Jack. Emma hugged Derek, but not Jean.
“I’ll give you a ring sometime. Take care.”
Jean watched her and the boys walk to the car. Derek went behind them and helped the boys into the car. He then kissed Emma on the cheek and she got inside and drove away. Jean waved at the boys as they sped away, and the waved back, blowing kissed. She attempted to wave at Emma, but she didn’t even look at her, let alone wave.
When Derek got back in the house, he walked past her and went into the living room. Jean closed the front door.
That night, Jean lay beside Derek in bed. She could tell he wasn’t sleeping. She always knew. But it was obvious he didn’t want to talk to her. She turned her head slightly and touched his shoulder.
The Perfect Wife Page 10