Wife Swap: When you’ve married the carbon copy, what happens when the original reappears?

by Roz James

  Eighteen months later in Australia she met Vivien, and for the first time she realised that she wanted more than casual sex. She was tired of the chase, and even more of how shit she felt the next day, or the walk of shame when she skulked out someone’s hotel or apartment in the early hours. She was weary of the drama too, when someone misunderstood or chose to ignore the conditions she thought she’d made clear from the outset, no strings, no promises, just fun and sex.

  Vivien was from Newcastle. Estranged from most of her family, she had no ties to her hometown. Kara extended her stay and, when nine months after meeting her she returned home to Glasgow, they returned together.

  They worked for a few months to build up some savings and applied to university in Glasgow to undertake postgraduate teacher training. Both were successful, their experience making them ideal candidates. That graduation, a year later, couldn’t have been more different. They were living together, sharing a flat with three other girls. They celebrated with a meal with Kara’s parents, then a club with friends from the course and their various placements. Celebrating not just their qualifications, but the jobs they had been offered and would soon start in Glasgow schools.

  Later at home, after making love, Vivien knelt by the bed, and before Kara could take in what was happening she’d proposed. Kara had no doubts as she replied. “Yes, yes...yes.” She was incredibly touched when Vivien asked to take her name, understanding that she had no loyalty to her family. She wanted to be as linked to Kara as she could be.

  Kara shut the album, shellshocked. What was suddenly, completely, utterly apparent and something that had honestly never occurred to her before, was that Vivien, her wife, was the spitting image of Natalie. They could have been twins. She closed the album and sat back, her hands over her face. Christ what have I done?

  She replaced the album in the box, her hand brushing the small red box that sat at the bottom, its velvet battered from her journeys. Kara lifted it, opening it slowly, taking in the white gold ring with a small round diamond. It looked tiny now, but she recalled saving for many months to buy this, using birthday and Christmas money, as well as all her tips. It was her intention to take it on their travels and propose when she found the most appropriate moment, the most breath-taking location.

  Despite their split, she’d still taken it with her, not giving up hope that Natalie would join her. When this didn’t happen, she had considered selling it, and at one particularly low moment had to stop herself from throwing it into the sea. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do so and had brought it home. She recalled putting it into the box next to the album. She hadn’t looked at it since.

  Kara had only recently followed Vivien to Dundee. It had always been Vivien’s dream to work in a boarding school. She had spent her childhood attending similar schools, her parents working abroad in countries where international schools didn’t exist, or if they did they didn’t choose to bring her with them. Unhappy and alone, spending most holidays with friends, she’d struggled without her family and wanted to offer support and love to kids she believed unlucky enough to have the same fate.

  “Christ Kara, why do these people have kids to just ship them out to others to look after them? I was eight for fuck sake, eight! Far too young to be sent away from family, from everything familiar... I was scared to death.” Kara had held her as she had cried, gently rubbing her back and whispering into her hair, promising her she would never be alone again. Their treatment of her had ruined Vivien’s relationships with her parents, she’d never forgiven them. She was an only child too so didn’t even have siblings to lean on. She had left to travel and never looked back, so much so that Kara had never even met them. Before they married Kara had tentatively broached inviting them to the wedding, worried that Vivien would later regret their lack of contact and involvement in such a meaningful day, but Vivien had been adamant; as far as she was concerned she no longer had parents, she had created her own family, reassuring Kara that this was all she needed.

  When Vivien had spoken to her about applying for a position as a senior teacher and housemistress at Holmford House, a private boarding school for girls in Dundee, Kara couldn’t deny her. As an author she could work from anywhere with electricity and a reasonable internet connection. Already Viv would come home talking about kids who reminded her of herself, scared kids crying themselves to sleep with homesickness, whom she had comforted. Kara knew she would bring them home with her if she could. She had found her calling.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Natalie was already aware of Kara’s presence in her hometown. She vividly recalled when she found out. It was the first day of the school term after the summer holidays and she was cooking dinner when Lou returned home. She looked up and smiled as she bound into the kitchen, taking in her wife’s fit lithe body, brimming with energy.

  “So, how was the first day back after the holidays, and most importantly how’s the new boss?” Natalie knew how important it was that they got on, Lou was headstrong and exuded confidence which could be perceived as, and sometimes actually strayed into, arrogance. There was little love lost between her and her previous manager, Margaret McGuire, who she had considered old, set in her ways, and disapproving of her lifestyle. She hadn’t been wrong. The fight she had to be allowed to run a Pilates class for her students had been unreal and still rankled. This was despite her doing so for free, sometimes in her own time too, as well as doing all the research and resulting Health and Safety tasks, including numerous risk assessments. They’d both been glad when she retired, particularly Natalie who’d regularly had to calm her wilful wife down following their interactions. She wouldn’t have put it past Mrs McGuire to try and discipline her before she left, as some kind of perverse parting gift.

  Lou hugged her from behind, kissing her neck, before letting go and taking a bottle of water from the fridge and sitting at the breakfast bar facing her. “Well I can’t say it wasn’t a challenge to get up this cold morning, particularly when a certain someone got to stay in our warm bed, bloody Uni terms, but the day wasn’t all bad.”

  “Come on Lou, don’t keep me in suspense, what’s she like?”

  Lou leant back in her stool, suddenly looking serious. “Well... well actually Natalie it’s not possible you have a twin, or a sister you don’t know about is it?”

  Natalie snorted, stopping her chopping. “Of course, I was part of a fanatical twin experiment, didn’t I mention it?” She scoffed. “Yeah right, you of all people know my past. My mum tried so hard for kids it’s not likely she’d have given one away, and I take after my mum’s side of the family in looks, everything, you know that. Why do you ask?”

  “Because Vivien, my new boss, could be your double Nat, that’s why, it’s eerie. When Tom brought her into the staff room there was a moment when I thought something awful had happened and you’d come to get me. She is so like you it’s untrue.”

  “Really!”

  “Okay there’s a few differences. She’s about the same age, possible a few years younger, similar height and build, her hair slightly lighter and longer, darker eyes, and once she opened her mouth it was obvious, she’s got a Newcastle accent, but otherwise she’s you babe.”

  “Well they do say everyone has a doppelganger.” She smiled wickedly. “Maybe I’ve just sent a clone to keep an eye on you at work.”

  “Fuck, I have moved to Stepford!”

  Natalie laughed. Louise’s description of the mothers bringing their kids to Holmford house at the beginning of term in their Porsches, Mercedes, SUVs and Range Rovers; with their fake tans, endless gold jewellery, professionally straightened hair and designer clothing, had led to them jokingly describing them as Stepford Wives. “Didn’t Tom prepare you?”

  Lou coughed. “You’re joking, you know he’s got no observation skills, otherwise he’d have seen Miss Young’s affair with the janitor long ago, given it went on for two years right under his nose... and I’m led to believe in his office.”

  “Mm
, so aside from being breathtakingly beautiful what’s she like?”

  Lou reached over and stole a piece of the chicken Natalie was chopping, smiling as her wife pretended to stab her with her knife. “No idea, I haven’t spent much time with her yet, but she seems nice, and from what she says progressive. Not that that would be hard compared to her predecessor. The Flintstones would be progressive compared to her.”

  “Well that’s good.”

  “Oh, and she’s gay too, married to a woman, Kara I think she called her.”

  Natalie’s ears perked up, she tried not to look too interested. Kara wasn’t a name she had come across in years. “Kara, what’s their surname?”

  “Daniels.”

  “You said Vivien’s from Newcastle?” Natalie swallowed; it couldn’t be...

  “Yes, but her wife’s Scottish apparently, they’ve just moved here from Glasgow.”

  Natalie looked down at her board, concentrating on her preparation as her mind churned. She didn’t want Lou to see her expression. She was sure she had also gone pale. She forced a response. “That’ll be a change.”

  “Yes, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve offered, once they are settled, to show them around. If we are all off at the same time that is, seemed like the friendly thing to do.”

  “Yeah, what does her wife do?”

  “Kara? I think she mentioned she’s a writer, I’ll find out though, Vivien was in Tom’s office most of the day. Anyway, I feel pretty dirty I’m going to have a quick shower.” She fluttered her eyelids, she’d missed her wife today, used to spending her days with her over the holidays. “Care to join me?”

  “No, I’ll need to keep an eye on dinner, it’s not a good time for me.... hopefully in a couple of days.”

  Lou walked towards the stairs, looking back over her shoulder grinning. “Shame, maybe I just need to ask my Stepford wife if you’re not up to your matrimonial duties.”

  Natalie chuckled. “Do I need to be worried?”

  “No babe, not unless she offers to take me on her desk or directs me given she’s my boss. You know how power does it for me... Professor.”

  Natalie chased after her, swatting her behind with the spatula. “Mm, maybe I’ll just need to put you over my knee later and show you who’s boss, what do you say?” She could hear her laugh all the way up the stairs.

  Opening the fridge Natalie poured a large glass of wine, leaning back against the fridge door and swallowing it in one mouthful. It can’t be...can it? Of all the scenarios Natalie had envisaged, and there had been many over the years, she had never imagined that Kara would turn up in Dundee. She’d wondered if she had become a teacher. Attending education courses and conferences she’d always scanned the attendee lists, expecting that at some time she would come across her. For all she knew though Kara had chosen a different career or met someone while travelling and now lived abroad. Her appearing in Dundee, married to her wife’s new boss, was not what she had foreseen. Given the time that had passed she’d assumed it would never happen.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Vivien woke to the sun streaming in the bedroom window, her head pounding. God we need to prioritise blackout blinds or move to another room until we do. Looking at her watch she realised it was nearly eleven a.m., not surprising given it had been after three when she eventually made it home. She groaned at the thought.

  She spied the glass of water and paracetamol packet on her bedside table. Kara knew her so well. She gratefully swallowed the tablets, draining her water glass, already wanting more to address the dehydration fuelling her headache.

  Naked she walked into the bathroom, noticing her bloodshot eyes as she headed for the shower, and her clothes scattered around the room as she’d tried not to wake her wife as she came to bed. Parts of the night before gradually returned to her memory as she washed the sweat, probably 40% proof, from her pores. She wondered how Lou was feeling this morning, but she’d discovered she was almost a decade younger, and she was definitely fitter, maybe her body could handle it more. She smiled as she thought of how much she liked her new friend, touched when she had insisted Vivien texted her to confirm she’d got home safely after the taxi had dropped Lou off first.

  She dried her hair with her towel, leaving it to fully dry naturally; something she often did at the weekend to give it a break from the styling products she used daily to control her curls. Pulling on sweatpants and a tee-shirt she headed downstairs. There was no sign of Kara as she made herself strong coffee, the top-quality machine an integral part of the new expensive German designed kitchen they’d recently installed, and something they’d both seen as essential. Toast made and buttered, she took it into the large conservatory. She sunk into what had quickly become her favourite chair, comfortable and with the best view of the garden.

  Vivien recalled how the kitchen area and conservatory were what had ultimately sold them the house, they could clearly foresee and appreciate the lifestyle they could have as they wandered around it. Her promotion and moving to Dundee with its less expensive house prices compared to Glasgow, allowed for a three-bedroom detached house instead of a flat, with the outdoor space they both craved. Everyone thought authors were rich, but Kara wrote for a niche market and was the first to admit that her writing would ever be unlikely to make them more than comfortably off, unless, as she joked, some Hollywood Producer suddenly fell in love with one of her stories and wanted to make the UK film version of the L word. Then she had promised to whisk them off to LA to live in the lap of luxury. Until then Dundee was their home. She wasn’t ready to become a housewife, her work far too important to her.

  The previous owners hadn’t lied, the conservatory, now bathed in light, wasn’t one of those rooms which was too hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It had a real tiled roof and walls to just under waist height and was centrally heated too. They’d bought the furniture it contained, its dark base and large cream cushions, as well as the garden furniture, from the couple given they were retiring to their already furnished villa in the Costa Del Sol.

  Sinking into the deep cushions she sipped her coffee, looking out over the well-kept established garden. As the owners had shown them around the house, they’d been told their life story. They’d lived there for forty years, bringing up their children in this house, extending it upwards and to the side, from a small bungalow into the larger house it now was. They’d been keen gardeners, and environmentally conscious, dividing their garden into an area with wildflowers to attract bees and insects, a small grassy area, smaller since their kids left and no longer needed the football/volleyball court, and a later addition of an outdoor kitchen and dining area. She took it all in, although she could see the December frost it was a clear, bright sunny day.

  When they’d bought the house, in the excitement of the move and new job, she could foresee their children playing there. Good job they don’t need to be conceived naturally. There was still no sign of Kara, despite that by now she must have heard she was up. She was obviously cocooned in her office, although it was Saturday, the door firmly closed.

  The third bedroom had allowed for a decent sized separate office for Kara, in the eaves of the house; as opposed to her previous space, the corner of the guest room in their two bedroomed Glasgow tenement flat. Vivien had been aware it wasn’t ideal, whenever they had visitors her wife had been unsettled, having to tidy her stuff away, unable to work, however it hadn’t been off limits to her. Somehow there was an unspoken message that this office was Kara’s room, with no need for her to enter it, particularly if the door was closed, like now. She might as well have a do not disturb sign on the door.

  It was Saturday too, looked like their plan to paint the dining room was on hold. Still she couldn’t really blame Kara given the time she had rolled home, and that she was hardly up before midday.

  Vivien sighed, sipping her coffee and feeling like it was bringing her back to earth, as she thought about the night before. She’d been excited about meeting Lou for a nig
ht out. Until then they’d had the occasional drink after work but, approaching their first weekend off together, Lou had suggested a night out. She also wanted to introduce her to the Dundee gay scene that she’d told her about. Giving her somewhere to drag Kara to, if she ever managed to get her out the house.

  They had been to three bars, and were already beginning to feel no pain, before they had bumped into two of Lou’s friends, Alice and Zara, a couple she had known since arriving in Dundee. Vivien liked them and it was obviously mutual, as they asked them to accompany them to a gay club. Before they knew it they’d agreed to go, it was a woman only club that took over a gay club on the first Friday of every month.

  Lou had been keen immediately it was mentioned, her excitement obvious. “We need to go Vivien; I never get to go dancing these days.”

  “Natalie not into it?”

  “Nah, says she grew out of it after Uni. Not surprising really, she had to grow up fast.”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Oh come on, it’s fate Viv. Even I didn’t know about this club, and the chance of it coinciding with us both having a weekend off again is nil. It’ll be years until we could go again. We’ll be old and grey by then.”

  “Well me maybe.” Vivien hadn’t needed much convincing; she was enjoying herself and it had been years since she’d been dancing. She remembered texting Kara to prevent her worrying, trying unsuccessfully to block out the relieved look she’d seen on her face when she’d told her not to wait up.

  The club was packed when they arrived, and the dance floor already full. She recalled watching Louise dance with her friends when she went to the bar, it was her round. There was a queue a few women deep and they promised to keep a lookout and assist her when she was close to getting served. Louise looked incredibly relaxed. She had removed her leather biker jacket, leaving a white vest top over black jeans that clung to her like a second skin, her strong sculptured shoulders and muscular arms, honed by years of Pilates, now very much on show. From the appreciative looks of women in the club, Viv wasn’t the only one who had noticed.