My Husband's Lies

by Caroline England

  ‘Last time we had a chat about Will’s …’ Debbie smiles. ‘Is the word reticence a fair one?’

  Penny nods. More than reticence, if she’s honest. Staring absently at the TV, not always picking up when she calls. No kisses or cuddles. Friendly when they speak but absent somehow. Still, he perked up no end when Jen called him on Sunday. Apparently Dan had gone AWOL, no one could find him. ‘Then why are you smiling?’ she asked when he told her. His eyes had flickered before giving her a hug. ‘There’ll be a new baby by tomorrow. That’s always good news. That’ll be us one day, Pen. You know, when you’re better.’

  Debbie’s watching as usual. ‘How do you find that?’ she asks.

  It takes a moment to answer. Will dashed out after Jen’s call and was absent for hours. To see Seb at the hospital, of course. At least that’s what he said.

  She comes back to Debbie’s question. ‘Oh, it’s fine; that’s just the way he is. You know, male emotional reserve. Though …’ Her heart racing, she pauses. She’d like to be honest, tell Debbie about her anxiety about Will’s strange behaviour, the urgent need to connect and start trying for a baby again, but this woman is assessing her mental health. She doesn’t want to say anything which might appear irrational or cause her to dig deeper. ‘Sometimes it’s nice to talk, though.’ She smiles thinly. ‘Like now, I guess.’

  ‘How does male emotional reserve make you feel?’ Debbie presses.

  The word pops in Penny’s head. ‘Isolated,’ she replies, surprising herself by saying it out loud. But it’s true, very true, when your husband is everything.

  Debbie is gazing. ‘You feel lonely at times. How about friends?’

  Friends? Not really. She had her medic pals at uni, but they dropped her, of course. Like a bad penny. Ironic, really. ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘To talk to. Your dinner party friends, for example.’

  Penny thinks about the question. Could she talk to Jen, properly talk? Affectionate and kind, she would make it easy, but she’s part of the A Team, too partial somehow. And of course there was that stupid paranoia she felt around her at the wedding; she doesn’t want to think about that. Which was why she didn’t invite her to the races and asked Lisa instead. She’s really friendly, perhaps that would work. People from work? Heavens no. And who else is there? She pictures the dairy aisle in Sainsbury’s. Not just alarm, but fear on his face. Oh God; she frightened everyone away.

  She mustn’t scare Will; she must never perturb him.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ she says. ‘It would be too embarrassing.’

  ‘You talk to me. Some people like to listen and assist if they can. I’m sure there’s someone out there who would help. Any harm in trying?’

  ‘I suppose not,’ she replies, but her mind has already roamed. A baby, Will’s baby. That’ll be us one day, he said on Sunday. Such lovely words; music to her ears. And a loving hug too.

  But why is she certain it was to hide his lying eyes?

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Jen

  Jen writes the word ‘Tuesday’ on the whiteboard as usual. She turns to thirty pairs of eyes looking at hers, some tired, some bored, some interested, but all shapes and sizes and colours. She has hazel eyes and Ian has blue; Maria and Anna have brown, Holly blue. It’s what one expects, it’s normal, isn’t it?

  She looks at the teacher’s empty chair at ten, wondering how to manage the day on her own, but as if by magic, the door is flung open and Mrs Cross appears, ruddy-faced and windswept. ‘Sorry I’m late, class,’ she says, ‘but there was an accident on the way to school. A cyclist got knocked off his bike. Fortunately he’s fine as he was wearing his helmet, so that’s a lesson to you all …’

  As the morning drags by, Jen sits at her corner desk, trying to focus on reading time rather than the clock. She feels guilty and furtive, which is silly when she’s doing nothing wrong. She has a long-time lover and a daughter who might be his, but today she’s only going to the doctor’s to find out why her middle child is so thin. She’s being accompanied by an attractive man who isn’t her husband, that’s true, a man she loves very much, but only in the platonic sense. If she wasn’t so stressed, she’d laugh. ‘It’s like a bad Richard Curtis film!’ she’d say to Ian, and he would chuckle and say, ‘Then why do you watch them so often?’

  Feeling ridiculously like one of the schoolkids, she walks self-consciously to the front of the classroom, whispers to the teacher that she’s desperate for a pee and could she leave early for lunch. Then she trots to the road at the side of the church, hoping Dan will be waiting so she can dive into his car without anyone seeing. He’s a good-looking bloke, with those beautiful eyes, and of course his contagious smile, but even as a girl she never fancied him. Too dark-haired Irish-looking, too like her older brothers. And her rotten bloody dad. Still, it’ll be an excuse if anyone comments. ‘Oh, he’s one of my brothers,’ she’ll say. No one will know that her real brothers have lost hair at the same rate as they’ve put on weight. Not that there’s anything wrong with a balding head, so long as it’s the right shape.

  There’s a moment’s panic when she stops; she can’t see Dan. Then his car pulls out of a space in the car park.

  ‘I was a few minutes early,’ he says. ‘Tell me where I’m going.’

  Unsure if her heavy breathing is from the dash or from nerves, she doesn’t speak for a moment as she steadies it.

  Dan puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘OK?’ he asks.

  She glances at him, thinking how tired he looks. Then remembers he’s the father of a new baby boy. ‘Oh, Dan. Sorry, I’m miles away! How’s baby Teddy? And Geri?’

  As he suppresses a yawn, Dan tells her about the palaver after she left the hospital on Sunday night. How a midwife finally examined Geri and discovered the baby was breached. She had a caesarian section under general anesthetic not long after; it was all pretty scary, but everything’s good.

  ‘All’s well that ends well, mother and baby are fine.’ He gives a sapped smile. ‘I have a son, Jen. Eight and a half pounds of son. Who would’ve thought?’ He seems to drift for a moment before focusing again. ‘They’ll stay in hospital for a few days. I’m under instructions to buy all the delicacies Geri has deprived herself of for the last nine months, starting with every type of blue cheese I can lay my hands on, as well as—’

  ‘Cigarettes and port?’

  The quip emerges as a croak and Dan reaches for her hand.

  ‘Everything will be fine, Jen. I’m sure of it.’

  The journey takes only minutes. ‘Ready?’ Dan asks, once they’re parked.

  The surgery door opens with a swish and warm air. Jen tells the receptionist she’s there, then they sit huddled in the waiting room looking at snaps of Teddy on Dan’s mobile.

  ‘I bet we look like lovers, which is pretty ironic,’ Jen whispers.

  They fall silent for a time.

  ‘Do you know for sure?’ Dan asks eventually.

  She thinks about the Bluebell Woods. She’d only just recovered physically from Maria’s birth, but found herself lying on a grass velvet carpet under a canopy of budding trees, surrounded by bluebells and having unprotected sex with Will. ‘No,’ she replies. ‘Not for sure.’

  Dipping into her handbag, she pulls out her battered mobile and brings up a recent snap of her wavy-haired middle daughter. She hands it to Dan and watches his face. ‘She’s twelve now, around the same age we first met at St Mark’s.’

  Dan doesn’t comment. ‘Does Will know?’ he asks.

  Jen shakes her head, the urgent need to cry stifled by the loud announcement of her name.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’

  She tries for a smile. ‘Now that would be weird.’

  It’s the same doctor as before. There’s a ladder in her tights and her hair has escaped from its bun. ‘What can I do for you today?’ she asks, her face weary.

  It’s hard not to scream with frustration. But how would the young woman know this moment
has haunted her every waking moment for many days? She’s not telepathic. One patient leaves, another comes in.

  Jen takes a deep breath. ‘My daughter had a blood test last week. Holly Kenning? The results are available today.’

  The doctor asks for Holly’s date of birth, then stares at her screen for some time. Jen watches her eyes move as she reads through the notes. She finally turns her head. Deep shadows beneath her eyes emphasise their paleness. ‘Graves’ disease,’ she says. ‘Also known as—’

  The blow is expected, but still it’s a shock. It’s a punishment, of course. God’s judgment for what she’s done. Jen knows she’s crying, but there’s nothing she can do; she needs to fetch Dan so he can ask the questions she’s unable to voice. She scrapes back the chair, but the doctor is dipping her head and passing a tissue.

  Her face is a little perplexed. ‘Of course you’re concerned,’ she’s saying. ‘But hyperthyroidism is not uncommon. There’s really no need to worry, Mrs Kenning. It can be treated quite easily with the right medicines. You probably know it better as an overactive thyroid gland.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Nick

  ‘Morning people! Lovely day!’

  Nick turns to the resonant sound of Will’s voice. He’s wearing a mac which looks at least two sizes too small. ‘Talk of the bloody devil,’ Nick says. He nods to the raincoat and laughs. ‘Have you put on three stone or are you wearing Penny’s clothes again, Will?’

  Penny appears from behind Will’s umbrella. ‘I know, Nick. I told him it was too small.’

  Will looks down at the coat and shrugs. ‘To be honest, I don’t think it’s mine.’

  ‘Whose is it, then?’ Penny asks, surprisingly sharply.

  ‘No idea, must have nicked it or done a cheeky swap.’ He opens the coat to look at the label and grins. ‘Expensive make and thank God I did. This bloody weather.’ He turns to Penny and pecks her lips. ‘Right, wife delivered. Now for the train tickets. See you in five.’

  ‘Make sure we’re in the right place and that the train hasn’t been cancelled,’ Penny calls as he disappears again with the umbrella. She gazes at his back, a strange expression on her face, before turning with a small jerk to Lisa.

  Nick watches the rain as the women chat. It’s pelting down in silver stripes, even worse than their wedding day. He did the gentlemanly thing by covering his wife with the umbrella all the way from the bus stop to the railway station, but his left trouser leg is soaking. ‘Worse than bloody Aberystwyth,’ he says, voicing his thoughts and realising too late from Lisa’s meaningful frown that it’s a tactless thing to say in front of Penny.

  Sighing, he turns away. He can’t do or say anything right these days. To Lisa, to his parents. And Patrick, poor Patrick. Lisa tried to have one of her brainstorming sessions to analyse what Patrick had meant by his fishing comment, but hot with shame, he had to stop her. He’d tricked his big brother into talking about something which upset him. No, not upset; distress, deep distress. A grown man rocking like a child. It just wasn’t normal.

  Nick shakes the mental image away. It’s still shocking and horrible. Thank God Jen isn’t here today; she’d be bound to ask questions. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

  Will’s voice brings him back. He’s shaking his umbrella and nodding to the suited men on the other side of the tracks. ‘Poor sods. They’re on the wrong side. The train’s due any minute; they’re going to miss it.’

  Nick watches several brightly dressed women join the racegoers on the opposite platform. They’re wearing ridiculously high heels and those stupid feathery things on their heads he can never remember the name of. He glances at Lisa, glad she isn’t wearing one. She tried on three or four dresses last night that would’ve been more suited to a nightclub than a day at the races. He knew better than to say so, but thank God she didn’t choose one.

  She appears at his shoulder. ‘There’s a train coming the other way. Are you sure we’re on the right side?’ she says in her nurse’s clear voice.

  Will glances at the tickets in his hand. ‘Yup. Chester is south from here.’

  Lisa nods to the train pulling up on the opposite track. ‘But that’s the Liverpool train. Isn’t Chester near Liverpool?’ she asks.

  Will looks again at the tickets, then at his watch. ‘Oh fuck! How did I get that wrong?’

  Penny shakes her head, frowning. ‘I asked you to check, Will. Didn’t you check?’ she asks, her voice unusually high-pitched.

  Silently they watch the train depart. Nick raises his eyebrows and meets Lisa’s eye, then opens an app on his mobile. ‘No need to panic. We can catch the next train to Crewe and change there. Only twenty minutes difference.’

  Unusually flushed, Will shakes his head. ‘Sorry, guys. My fault. Must be losing my marbles.’

  Patting him on the back, Nick laughs. ‘Just bloody glad it wasn’t me!’

  Penny and Lisa step back to their seats and continue to chat. ‘Sorry,’ he hears Penny say. ‘You know Will’s usually on the ball, but he’s been really distracted recently. He works too hard and sometimes even I can’t track him down. Then when I—’

  ‘Distracted flipping husband, tell me about it!’ Lisa interrupts. ‘Oh brilliant, here’s the train.’

  Noticing his trousers have finally dried, Nick sips the champagne. It has taken a few glasses to do its thing, but the tension in his shoulders has gone, he feels pretty damn chilled and relaxed. He’s put a twenty-pound note on every race so far, and though he hasn’t won, he’s backed each way and his horses have been placed, so not a complete disaster.

  Penny and Lisa have stayed chatting at their table mostly, but he’s moved around between the bar, the stalls and the paddocks with Will and a couple of other guys, commenting on the women, the jockeys and the horses.

  They now move to the damp grass, watching the sleek animals be led around a paddock. The ground is a little squelchy from the rain, but the breeze has replaced grey clouds with white, and the sun’s peeping through.

  ‘Here come the jockeys,’ one of the lads says. ‘I know they look small on the horses, but they’re actually bloody tiny!’

  Nick looks at Will, waits for the inevitable quip, which comes almost immediately. ‘A job for you here if IT falls through, Nicky boy,’ he says with a grin.

  Shaking his head, he turns to the clusters of noisy women in the tent and watches for several moments. Mutton dressed as lamb or too tarty, he thinks. Lisa looks gorgeous today. He’s done bloody well.

  ‘Botox R Us or what?’ he says when Will moves to look too. ‘And what’s with the eyes?’

  ‘False eyelashes, according to Penny,’ Will replies, sipping his champagne and looking at the women disinterestedly. Then he does another take, staring for a moment.

  Nick follows his gaze. ‘Someone you know?’

  Will shakes his head. ‘More losing the bloody plot.’ He nods to an attractive dark-haired woman. ‘Thought she was Jen for a minute.’

  ‘Really?’ Nick replies, not seeing the similarity. He comes back to Will’s frown. ‘Have you seen her recently? She seemed a bit quiet at Dan’s. And have you noticed she’s lost weight?’ He grins. ‘Still has the big …’

  He does Will’s usual ‘big boobs’ motion with his hands, but Will has turned back to the horses.

  ‘OK, a hundred on number seven,’ he’s saying.

  ‘Bloody hell, a hundred quid?’

  ‘A chestnut beauty. I have a feeling about this one,’ he replies. ‘I’ll put on a bet, then buy another bottle. Raise a glass to Dan.’

  ‘God, yeah. Dan Maloney, a father! Bloody hell, a tiny newborn, that’s scary.’

  ‘Yup. Rather him than me. See you back at the table.’

  Nick makes his way through the tunnel, dodging a boisterous group of men on a stag party. He climbs the steps by the stalls, turning to the sound of a siren below. A woman has been placed on a stretcher and a man is by her side with an anguished face, yet people are still mi
lling by, drinking, laughing and chatting, oblivious to his distress. It reminds him of Patrick, his constant brother Patrick. What did he do? Why was it his fault? But there’s the stab again, of disloyalty and guilt.

  Climbing towards the members’ lounge, he still feels the shame, but it’s punctured by the sight of his wife in her emerald green dress. She’s standing next to Penny on the balcony, smiling her stunning smile. It lifts his heart to the heavens.

  ‘I’ve had a good look around,’ he says when he reaches her.

  ‘And?’ she asks.

  ‘You’re the most attractive woman here.’

  Lisa gives him a peck. ‘Think you might be just a little biased. And pissed,’ she says. ‘But thank you, I’ll take it.’ Lifting her glass, she grins. ‘Any more where this came from?’ She nods to Penny, her eyes wide with meaning. ‘We needed some fresh air, but we’re going back inside.’

  When Nick returns to the table, Penny and Lisa are talking, so he takes out his mobile, sending a text to a mate at work to berate him for not picking a winner, but asking for another tip nonetheless. Then he tunes into Lisa’s conversation.

  ‘You’re flipping amazing, Penny. Will adores you. It’ll just be work worries. There’s no way he’d leave you …’ she’s saying.

  Turning to Penny, he sits back in surprise. Her face is blotchy, her eyes glassy with tears. She’s holding a bunched tissue and Lisa is rubbing her back.

  ‘Everything OK?’ he asks.

  Pushing Penny’s glass of champagne away, Lisa nods at him. ‘A soft drink or a coffee would be good,’ she says.

  Nick stands at the bar, briefly turning back as he waits. Bloody hell, that was strange. He’s never seen Penny cry before, not even when she was led silently through his wedding reception by Will. Even then she looked composed, her face like white chiselled marble. It was the blip of his wedding, astonishing when you think about it. Yet so easily superseded. His obsession. Oh God, poor Patrick.