by Ella Grey
The Single Wife
A Novel
Ella Grey
Revised and Updated 2nd Edition.
© Little Blue Books, 2005.
The right of Ella Grey to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author. You must not circulate this book in any format.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Contents
Note
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Endnotes
Note
This book was written, produced and edited in the UK, where some spelling, grammar and word usage will vary from US English.
Prologue
LATE NINETIES
‘Man Plans – God Laughs.’
It was the uni gang’s last summer together before going their separate ways and given the conversation, she couldn’t help but recall that old Yiddish proverb.
“Andrew will be our sports hero - obviously,” Amanda declared positioning herself comfortably against her boyfriend’s broad chest as she pushed a fair curl away from her pretty face.
Kate rolled her eyes. “You worked overtime on the crystal ball for that one,” she muttered caustically. He was already set to sign with a rugby club post graduation, so it wasn’t exactly a reach.
Amanda gave her a withering look. “And you’ll end up in politics lecturing us all - as usual.”
There had never been any love lost between those two who always managed to rub one another up the wrong way, and she thought wryly neither tried to hide it.
“So what about you, babe?” Andrew returned the attention to the one who craved it the most. “What’ll you be?”
“Famous of course,” Amanda tittered. “A huge name in music or modelling or make it big on TV. Dunno, I haven’t decided yet.”
“Yeah, I can see it now, The Amanda Langan Show,” Peter piped up sardonically.
“And what about you pretty boy?”
He was arguably the best-looking one in their little ragtag group; his dark eyes, sculpted jawline and sallow complexion making for a breathtaking combination.
“You’ll have to ask the missus about that one,” he replied winking.
Amanda’s head shot up, aghast. “You haven’t… proposed…?”
She hid a smile. If any couple going down that road, Amanda was determined it would be her and Andrew. No way would she let plain oul Olivia Dunne steal her thunder by beating them to the punch.
Peter laughed, apparently reading her thoughts. “If I do, I guarantee you’ll be the first to know. After Olivia obviously.”
She exchanged a furtive grin with Kate, both certain that Amanda was already working on a way to get a proposal out of her boyfriend before - god forbid - anyone else pipped them to the post.
“So, that’s settled then,” Andrew said, sitting forward and recapping on his fingers. “Amanda’s the celeb, I’ll be the sporty one, Peter and Olivia will save the world, Kate’ll help with the paperwork … and Leah will end up owning her own restaurant. Who’s left?” he ventured and she winced, trying not to let her discomfort show.
This was exactly why she hated these conversations – they always seemed to highlight her own lack of talent, dearth of personality, her … oddness. She wasn’t attractive, talented, bombastic or caring. She was just the Boring One, the quiet weirdo who faded into the background.
Much to her relief, Olivia appeared then, followed closely by Leah.
Saved …
“Hey, it’s about time,” Peter piped up. “Where did you two get to?”
“Shopping,” Leah replied, her mouth full as she sat down.
“So what have we missed?” Olivia asked, squinting at the sun and trying to get comfortable on the grass.
“Amanda dusted off the crystal ball and is making a stab at guessing our futures,” Kate informed her, another roll of her eyes.
“Oh, I love conversations like this,” Olivia sat forward, warming to the subject. “Let me guess, Andrew big in sports, Leah – oh, I dunno – a really famous TV chef or … what?” Seeing Amanda’s poisonous glare, she stopped short. “Sure out of all of us it’s obvious Leah’ll be the big shot.” She winked mischievously.
“And you will be …” Olivia paused a little, and again her insides twisted self-consciously. “Hard to tell just yet but something big, I’d say. Something unexpected. And what did ye say about me? Hold on a sec, let me guess, I will be … the Settled One,” Olivia chuckled. “I’ll get my degree, and maybe work for a couple of years until we marry,” she looked at Peter, who shrugged easily. “Then happy enough to stay home and rear all our brazen kids,” she added with an impish grin.
They were so easy together, so comfortable, so… perfect for one another… she mused, her heart sinking a little.
“I’ve an idea,” Andrew announced sitting up. “We should place a couple of bets. See if Amanda does become a TV star or Leah a famous chef, or you two end up getting married …”
Peter guffawed. “Any excuse for a flutter.” He lay back and rested his head on one hand. “It’s an idea though. We could do it and then find a way to check how all’s panned out – or not. A reunion maybe.”
“Yes!” Amanda enthused, future visions of herself rocking up in designer clothes replete with glamorous lifestyle, no doubt. “Be great fun seeing how everyone’s getting on …”
“It would be a bit of craic,” Olivia enthused. “And since this’ll be our last summer together, good excuse as any to catch up.”
“I dunno,” Kate said. “People make these stupid promises all the time at
graduation …”
Olivia harrumphed. “Well, it’s worth planning at least?”
Realising she was outnumbered, Kate held her hands up in mock surrender. “OK, OK, whatever,” she groaned. “I still think it’s mad – who’s to say we’ll even want to see one another in the future. To say nothing of tempting fate.”
“Ah, don’t be so negative. Are you in or not?”
“I’m in.”
“Good stuff,” Olivia sat back on her heels, eager to start organising. “So we’ll meet up where …?”
“Why not here?” Leah gestured toward the lake.
“Grand. Same spot by the water, so. But when?”
“Oh late afternoon, I think, so some of us can get a bit of shopping in beforehand,” Amanda suggested airily.
“I think she meant when – as in what year?”
“Oh, OK …maybe a decade or so – or is that a bit long?”
“Not feckin’ long enough,” Kate muttered under her breath.
“Right,” Olivia pronounced determinedly. “Soon we all graduate out into the big bad world to do our own thing. Chances are some of us will stay in touch, chances are some of us … won’t.” She gave a sideways glance at Amanda and Kate. “Still, for the sake of our friendship and everything we’ve shared, all seven of us agree to reunite here in … five summer’s time?” She checked the date on her watch. “Same time, same place.”
“To our last - and next - summer!” Leah raised her glass and the others duly followed, their expressions joyous with the promise of things to come.
All with the exception of Kate, who still looked sceptical.
Amanda glared at her.
“I’ll go along with it, but trust me, these things never work out,” Kate muttered with a shake of her head, though her eyes twinkled as she grudgingly raised her drink in a toast. “But sure nobody ever listens to me …”
1
SIX YEARS LATER
Robin stood awkwardly in front of the security guard. Her heart hammered as he ordered her to hold out her arms. She did so, crucifixion-style. He began to pat her down quickly and impersonally and she wondered why she always felt so guilty.
Ben stood on the other side laughing, having just sailed through like every other time.
But even if Robin did manage to get by without incident, the guards nearly always spot-frisked her anyway. With her shoulder-length auburn hair and light complexion, she looked as Irish as the next woman, so why did JFK airport security always peg her as a potential terrorist?
Inquisition over, she joined Ben on the other side.
He shook his head. “Every, single, time,” he joked. “Now come on, better get going.”
Robin quickened her step and the two hastened towards their departure gate. They’d been lucky to reach the airport in the time they did with Friday afternoon traffic across Manhattan beggaring belief.
She had lived in NYC for all this time and still couldn’t get used to the unrelenting traffic. Luckily the cab-driver had driven like a man possessed to get them to the airport in time.
“Have you got the boarding cards?” she asked Ben.
“Me? I thought you had them,” he replied seriously, though she knew by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he was only teasing. Hopefully.
“Not the time, Ben,” she scolded. “Not when this plane is about to take off.”
“Ah, they’d never leave without us.”
At the gate, they duly produced their Irish passports.
“Yeah it is me, really,” her boyfriend joked trying to lighten the tone. “Sure I know I’m miles better looking in real life but there you go.”
But there wasn’t the slightest response to his attempts at friendly humour and the man eventually handed back their passports without comment.
“Jaysus,” he said to Robin on the way down the gangway. “Do none of these guys have a sense of humour anymore? It’s only a short hop down the road.”
Robin was really looking forward to this. She and Ben hadn’t had a break away in ages. OK, it was only a few days in Washington, but she was really looking forward to her first visit to the capital. Manhattan could be claustrophobic and things had been so hectic at work lately they could both do with the breather.
Still she felt an automatic sense of discomfort as she handed over her boarding card inside the aircraft door.
“Straight down on the left-hand side – 10B and C,” the stewardess informed them pleasantly.
She and Ben made their way slowly down along the aisle, bumping past people shifting their luggage about and trying to get settled.
Robin reached Row 10 and was about to take her seat and let Ben stow their bags overhead as was their routine, when a familiar scent hit her nostrils. Instantly, she turned around and motioned for him to follow her back up the aisle.
“What is it, hon?” he asked but with a quick glance at the seats directly behind, he soon saw what was bothering her.
“You sit down – I’ll talk to them,” Robin looked around for a stewardess.
“Are you sure? I’ll come with you if –”
“No, I don’t want to make a fuss,” she said grimacing.
Seeing a stewardess approach from the other end of the plane, Robin waylaid her. Trying to keep her tone low so as not to be overheard by anyone in the immediate vicinity, she quickly outlined the issue.
“Let me look into that, ma’am,” the woman said, a little warily, “but as you can see the aircraft is almost fully boarded – it may be difficult to reassign seating.”
“Look,” Robin said softly, trying her best to sound reasonable, “Please understand that I’m not blaming you, but I did make the request ahead of time and was assured …” She trailed off, spotting a woman seated in the row next to them blatantly trying to eavesdrop. “If you could just maybe take another look at the seating arrangements, I would really appreciate it. Or perhaps we could just move seats altogether?” She smiled graciously hoping her polite approach would work.
“I’ll see what I can do,” the stewardess said, heading for the top of the aisle.
Robin felt all eyes on her as she stood there waiting for the other woman’s return, and despite her protestation that she could deal with the matter herself, she was relieved when Ben joined her.
“What’s happening? Are they going to move them?”
“We’ll soon find out,” she said, seeing the stewardess approach. But by her expression, Robin knew immediately that her request had been ignored. Again.
“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” the stewardess confirmed apologetically. “I really don’t know what happened. Obviously reservations didn’t pass your request to check-in. And since this is such a small aircraft …” She trailed off as if to imply that in such a cramped space, what different could it make?
“I don’t believe this,” Ben interjected hotly. “It’s the same thing every time we fly with you lot – how come AA can get it done, Delta can get it done, but your crowd –”
“Calm down,” Robin soothed, though she was just as frustrated.
“How about I talk to the passengers in question?”
Robin hated the way people looked at her like she was a raving hypochondriac – the way the stewardess was looking at her now. But she wasn’t just looking for attention or special treatment. She only wished that were the case.
“That’s all we can do, I suppose,” she said wearily, but one look at Ben as they followed the stewardess back down towards their seats told her that he was fit to burst. She kept her distance as they approached the passengers seated behind Row 10.
“Excuse me,” the stewardess said pleasantly to a middle-aged woman accompanied by what looked be her husband and young son. “So sorry to inconvenience you, but could I request that your son put his snack away for the duration of this flight? Or if maybe we could move you to another seat near the front …”
“Whaddya mean?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “With my kidneys I need to be close by the
girls’ room. Anyway, what’s the problem? National Security mean no-one’s allowed eat anymore either?”
“That’s not the case at all, ma’am,” said the stewardess soothingly. “We’ll be serving refreshments once airborne and some complimentary snacks too, so if you could –”
“They better be complimentary – and not at those darn New York prices…” the woman’s husband interjected. “Anyway, the engine hasn’t even started and my boy here is hungry.” He glared at the stewardess. “I don’t see any sign around here saying you shouldn’t eat when you’re hungry.” With that, he reached forward and took a packet of nuts from his seat-pouch.
“I’m making a polite request for you to please put those away, sir,” the stewardess repeated her plea. “I appreciate your confusion but we have a passenger with a medical condition seated in front of you today.”
The man leaned forward and looked up at Ben. “What - you addicted to junk food or somethin’?”
“No but my girlfriend has a nut allergy,” he announced irritably.