The Single Wife : 'Liane Moriarty meets Elin Hilderbrand in an addictive summer read'

by Ella Grey

  “Ben calm down,” Robin said mortified, as everyone in the immediate vicinity turned to look. Sensing an escalation, another stewardess moved towards them.

  “Well, I ain’t offering her no nuts am I?” the man asked, puzzled.

  “That’s not it,” Ben explained. “She’s hypersensitive. Severely.”

  “Ain’t my fault if people can’t control themselves,” the man went on, unmoved. “I paid my fare same as everyone else and nobody’s gonna tell me what I can and can’t do.” As if to prove his point, he tore open the bag and put a handful of peanuts in his mouth, while Robin moved back, terror-stricken.

  “Please sir, we need to take off. Again, I’m really sorry for the inconvenience but –”

  “Hey,” he said, raising his voice and looking nastily at the stewardess. “Me and my family ain’t had nuthin’ to eat since this morning and we’re hungry. We’re not movin’ and I ain’t puttin’ away no peanuts, my wife ain’t puttin’ away no peanuts, and my son ain’t puttin’ away no peanuts for some stuck-up Park Avenue Princess. So there.” He sat back and his wife looked on approvingly, satisfied that her husband was the right man to put these troublesome city-slickers in their place.

  But then she looked up at Robin and seemed to recognise the terror in her eyes. “We didn’t mean any harm,” the wife said to her, and then to the stewardess. “But my boy here, he gets antsy when he’s hungry and so does Max. We don’t mean any harm. And with my kidneys, we really can’t move seats.”

  “That’s OK ma’am, but we really need to take off now. So if you and your husband could just put those away, there shouldn’t be any issue.”

  “Or if you lot had just assigned a nut-free zone as requested, there wouldn’t be an issue in the first place,” Ben seethed. “But you just don’t care, do you? You just pack in as many idiots are you can fit – who cares?”His annoyance was in full flight now, which is more than could be said for the rest of the passengers on Flight 81268. “It’s totally unacceptable and I won’t have it.”

  Then to Robin’s horror, he opened the overhead locker and removed their luggage. “Come on, hon we’re going,”

  “What?”

  “Sir, if you could just –”

  “I said, we’re going. Forget it. You can bet this is the last time I fly with this godforsaken airline.”

  Robin looked from Ben to the stewardess, to the peanut-crunchers and back to her boyfriend again, but at that stage she didn’t care where they went as long as it was out of here, away from all the staring, the pointing, the whispered remarks.

  Providing a nut-free zone was at the discretion of the airlines, so truly Ben had no right to be so hard on them. But she suspected he was weary of the fact that her (life-threatening) allergy could be so all-pervading.

  “Really sir, there’s no need …” The voice of the stewardess trailed off as she realised that Ben wasn’t to be placated.

  Sitting in the taxi from the airport back to their Lower East Side apartment, and yet another weekend ruined, Robin smarted with embarrassment.

  “I made it clear when I made the reservation, really I did,” she said, looking miserably at him and trying to convince herself more than Ben.

  He took her hand in his. “It was my decision to get off that plane. There’ll be other weekends, and anyway it’s not your fault.”

  But of course it was her fault, Robin knew. It was always her fault.

  2

  Leah took a deep breath – a very very deep breath. This was easily the most terrifying experience of her life. She had done many frightening things over the years – bungee-jumping in France, white-water rafting in Belgium, not to mention going through the very scary motions of setting up a business in Ireland – but this, this was the most terrifying of all.

  The night before, she hadn’t been able to sleep, she was so sick with nerves, and she had spent much of the night in her kitchen experimenting with new recipes for her handmade chocolates.

  It hadn’t been a wasted night either to be fair, as she’d come up with a raspberry and white chocolate truffle combo that was absolutely delicious – Berrylicious actually, which was exactly what she intended to name the new creation.

  She took another deep breath and sat for a few moments more in her little Fiesta before getting out.

  You can do this, she told herself. You can do it. Unfortunately, the message wasn’t being relayed to the butterflies in her stomach.

  Despite her student ambitions to become a pasty-chef, Leah found that time abroad after her degree had unexpectedly led her catering career in a totally different direction.

  Eager to further her knowledge and experience, she had spent a few years in France working under the stewardship of a renowned Belgian dessert chef and chocolatier. Her own speciality at college had been pastries and desserts, but working alongside such an artisan and master of his work, Leah unexpectedly fell in love with the intricate handmade chocolatier craft.

  In order to hone her growing skills, she spent a further eighteen months away in Brussels and while there approached with gusto the challenge of marrying delicious flavour combos with the finest chocolate.

  By the time the initial apprenticeship was over and her own skills were polished to perfection, Leah was hooked on the artistry of chocolate-making. There was no doubt in her mind as to where she wanted to go with her career, and when she returned to Ireland she immediately set about going into the confectionery trade.

  At the time of her return a couple of years before, the country was still in the throes of an economic boom and, following a huge leap of faith (and an equally huge start-up loan), Leah began her own specialised handmade chocolate company.

  She named the business Elysium, the Greek for ‘a condition of ideal happiness’, which she felt went some way towards doing justice to her stuff.

  While the handmade chocolate business was a thriving Irish trade, there was little in the way of high-end artisan gift options. Thanks to her time in Belgium, she decided that the packaging and presentation should be equally as important as the chocolates themselves. Her signature use of rich purple and gold ornate boxes, covered in beaded silk and wrapped in delicate muslin, soon became hugely popular with card-and-gift stores and tourist retailers.

  It was true what they said about finding something you loved and never working a day again she thought, because she absolutely adored her job.

  Josh, her boyfriend, often complained that she worked way too hard, but as far as she was concerned it was the best job in the world.

  Recently she and Josh had set up home together in a one-bed rented apartment on Dublin’s Southside. Their relationship was going great, the business was going great, Leah was six months away from her thirtieth birthday and life was great.

  But, she thought finally getting out of the car, if she could just get today over and done with, then life would be even better. As Josh had pointed out before leaving for work that morning, all she could do was her best.

  Unfortunately, Leah knew from experience that her best would probably not be enough.

  She jogged up the steps and into the building, her dark ponytail swinging as she went. She felt strange wearing her hair like that outside of the kitchen, always thinking that the style looked particularly childish on her, probably because of her huge brown eyes and round face.

  The ponytail had been Olivia’s suggestion – apparently it never failed. And since the ponytail trick had evidently worked for her best friend, Leah was prepared to take her word for it. She was prepared to try anything if it helped her through today’s ordeal.

  She gave the rather dour-looking receptionist a friendly smile. “Leah Reid,” she said by way of announcement when the other woman didn’t reciprocate. “My appointment’s at ten.”

  From the receptionist’s eventual curt nod towards somewhere behind her, she deduced that she should take a seat on one of the plastic chairs lined up along the wall. She sat back, and despite herself began nervously wrin
ging her hands together. Then she stopped herself, realising that at a time like this, greasy, sweating palms were exactly what she didn’t need.

  She picked up a magazine and was about to check her horoscope when she realised that that particular issue was almost three months out of date. She turned instead to the problem pages. Troublesome spouses and illicit affairs were always in vogue.

  “Ms Reid?” She looked up, startled, to see a small, middle-aged man with a clipboard and more importantly, what seemed like a kindly face, looking questioningly at her.

  Leah stood up, relieved. This guy looked like a bit of a pussy-cat. Maybe this mightn’t be such a disaster after all.

  “Great day, isn’t it?” she babbled as she followed him inside the office, habitually falling back on the great Irish conversation starter. Well, it was either that or the Dublin traffic and Leah could hardly start moaning about that with him, could she?

  Two minutes in the room and all her hopes about this guy being a pussy-cat were cruelly dashed. He asked to see her driver’s licence and, when Leah handed it to him, recoiled as if he’d been burnt.

  “Out of its sleeve, please,” he ordered, his expression po-faced as she obliged. Yikes. Seemed she’d already got off to a bad start.

  Nonetheless, she steeled herself and tried to act confident – but not too confident – as he began the questioning. The first one was actually quite simple for her, something about the correct situation in which you should dip your headlights.

  “Well I never drive at night,” she answered pleasantly, “so that doesn’t really apply.”

  He looked at her. “Can you answer the question please, Ms Reid?”

  Leah thought for a second. “Well, when another car is coming towards you I suppose, otherwise you’d blind him. Not that it makes any difference, people just tend to blind you anyway, which is exactly why I avoid driving at night.”

  He said nothing and went straight on to the next question, this one about the right of way on roundabouts. Leah was pleased – this was one she knew very well.

  “When you approach a roundabout, you have automatic right of way.”

  He looked at her. “Explain further?”

  “Well when you approach a roundabout and you’re not planning to go round it and you just want to go straight through it, then you are automatically free to do so.”

  By his face, Leah wondered if she had said something wrong. But no, roundabouts were her thing, the one situation where she was completely confident she was in the right.

  The problem was other drivers who didn’t know how to use it properly and Leah thought wearily, there was always one. She hadn’t the heart to beep her horn at the poor eejits (usually men) who didn’t know what they were doing, but the problem was they always honked at her.

  A few minutes later it was time for the main event, and she trotted out of the building, leading him to where she had parked the car.

  To her surprise, he asked her to walk around it, ostensibly checking for broken mirrors and lights etc, and refused to entertain Leah’s protests that of course everything worked fine, wasn’t the car only two years old?

  Then he mortified her by asking her to recite the Fiesta’s registration. Why would anyone need to know that, Leah thought, when if she had forgotten where she’d parked, it could easily be found by pressing the alarm on her keys and following the sound? She knew it was a two-year-old Dublin registration but that was about it.

  Would something that simple mean a fail? she worried now, as she moved up a gear and drove towards the main street.

  She had just about remembered to put up her ‘L’ plates beforehand, Olivia having reminded her that not displaying her learner plates would definitely mean an instant fail. It had taken her close to an hour to find a place that stocked the stupid things, and nearly another trying to stick them to the blasted windscreen.

  Leah cast a quick eye towards the tester in the passenger seat, being careful not to swing her ponytail too much – the more elaborate swings, Olivia warned her, were only for checking her mirrors. He was marking boxes and, as far as she could see, wasn’t watching her driving at all.

  A bit rude, she thought. All these months she’d been dreading taking this test – for the third time – and hardly sleeping the last few days thinking about it, and then your man couldn’t even be bothered to test her properly. .

  Leah looked up and quickly slammed on the brakes when she realised she had just been about to drive right through a zebra crossing – with of course the obligatory Hollywood-movie mother and buggy directly in her path. Yikes. She gripped the steering wheel and smiled beatifically at the tester.

  “Nice reaction time, eh?” she said, a little unnerved by her own forthrightness. It must be the adrenaline making her giddy, she thought, checking her rear-view mirror before moving off again.

  The roads were crazy this afternoon – traffic was crawling at a snail’s pace and it was as though the entire population of Dublin knew Leah was sitting her driving test and were out to make things hard for her.

  Take this person, she thought, spying a woman in one of those huge SUVs coming towards her, on her way back from the school run, a determined look on her face that suggested she wasn’t going to stop for anyone. As she came closer it became even clearer that this particular woman wasn’t going to stop or give way to anyone, Leah included.

  She mentally recited the rules of the road. The other driver’s side of the road was obstructed by parked cars and Leah’s was clear. Which meant she had the right of way, didn’t it? It meant that she was perfectly entitled to keep going, and the other driver had to stay out of her way didn’t it? Right, so she would keep going and Madam would just have to wait until the road was clear.

  So Leah did keep going and … oh blast her, Madam kept going too. They were getting closer, each eyeing the other, neither willing to give an inch, until finally, in sheer desperation, Leah edged up on the kerb and onto the path. While Madam drove past with a face on her that would sink the Titantic and not a wave, a nod of thanks … nothing.

  She steered to her right and the Fiesta’s two wheels toppled none-too-gently back down onto the road again.

  Her heart pounded. Blast it, blast it, blast it … would your man see that as initiative? She wasn’t sure. Though, nobody was supposed to drive on the path, surely? There was nothing in the rulebook, mind you, but … she groaned inwardly, just wishing she could open the door and tell the bloody tester to feck off for himself.

  This was not going well. First she’d been a bit vague on the questions, then she couldn’t remember the Fiesta’s registration, not to mention the close call with the zebra crossing … and now this. Was there anything else that could go wrong at this stage? Anything at all?

  Ah sure she might as well keep going and just hope for the best.

  But, no sooner had Leah made her brave decision to push on through, one of the ‘L’ plates she had so painstakingly positioned on the windscreen earlier, came unstuck and plopped into her lap.

  Well. She’d definitely failed it now, hadn’t she

  The look of pure horror – or was it terror?– on the driving tester’s face quickly answered Leah’s unspoken question.

  3

  Olivia was cleaning the bathroom and wondering how Leah was getting on, when the phone rang.

  “I’m really sorry to disturb you like this,” she heard her manager say with genuine regret, “and if I could have avoided phoning you I would, but if we don’t operate soon, I think the poor little mite could die.”

  Her insides tightened. “Oh Alma, no – what’s happened? Which one?”

  “He’s just been brought in. By the looks of things he was run over, then some kind-hearted soul,” Alma added with heavy irony, “tossed him into the ditch to die. I don’t know how long he’s held on but he was found by someone this morning out walking their own dog.” Her voice softened. “I don’t even know if we can save him but –”

  “I’ll be th
ere in ten minutes,” Olivia said decisively. On call or not, the very least she could do was try. She put the phone down, grabbed a coat from the cupboard under the stairs and hastened back into the living-room.

  “Let’s get your coat on, pet,” she announced to her daughter.

  A qualified veterinary surgeon, she worked part-time at an animal shelter within driving distance from Lakeview, the village in which she and her four year old daughter now lived.

  Less than an hour’s drive from Dublin, Lakeview was very much a quintessential summer tourist town with locally owned pubs, shops and a gorgeous café along one short main street.

  Olivia had moved there to be closer to her parents who’d retired to the sleepy little village years before, and she lived in Cherrywood Green, a small mature estate on the other side of town.

  She hated having to drag Ellie the eight or so miles to the shelter but there was no time to call on her mother to babysit. Ellie normally loved ‘helping out’ with the animals but with such an emergency neither Alma nor Olivia would be able to humour her this time.

  “It’s not Angel is it, Mummy?” her daughter asked, her eyes wide as Olivia helped her into her coat. An elderly abandoned dachshund, Angel had been at the centre for sixteen months, and the little dog and Ellie had formed a bond within seconds of setting eyes upon one another.

  Olivia knew that Ellie would have mixed feelings should poor Angel ever be rehomed. As would Olivia herself. Every dog, cat, pony and ferret had a special place in the hearts of all the employees and volunteers of Paws & Tails Refuge Centre.

  “No this little guy was just brought in,” she explained, closing the front door behind them and hurrying her towards the car. “Alma thinks he was hit by a car.”

  It wouldn’t be the first or indeed the last hit-and-run victim upon which Olivia had operated. She’d been working at the centre for years, having gone there not long after she and Peter had bought a house close by, originally intending to spend some time there before something better came along.