What Holly's Husband Did

by Debbie Viggiano

  Ray nodded. ‘It’s not too big a deal really. I’ll do some overtime to get the bank balance back into the black. We’re not that overdrawn. I panicked and over-reacted. Jeanie’s been quite canny with the house-keeping, although I was starting to wonder why we were eating so much beans on toast,’ he said, attempting to joke.

  ‘Would you like to come in for a coffee?’

  ‘Thanks, Holly, but I won’t. Is Alex in? It’s only right I should see him too.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll get him for you.’

  Alex was initially prickly with Ray, and I decided to leave the two men alone to smooth their respective ruffled feathers. I wandered back into the kitchen to finish stacking the dishwasher, listening to the odd word float after me as both men chatted about misunderstandings and wanting to clear the air. I still had the telephone in my hand after talking to Jeanie. I popped it back on its base and stooped to resume stacking the dishwasher. But as I slotted a plate into the rack, I froze. Suddenly I was re-winding the conversation with Jeanie. She’d said that she and her lover were going to stop seeing each other. And she’d also said that the two of them had made that decision last night.

  Last night, she’d been with Alex.

  41

  ‘You look nice,’ said Alex, as he slipped on his dinner jacket and stood back to admire himself in the full-length bedroom mirror.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. Three hours of exfoliating, tweezing, blow-drying, curling, manicuring and following one of Sophie’s recommended beauty vloggers on how to apply evening make-up, all for the lukewarm compliment of “nice”. Such a bland word.

  ‘So do you,’ I added.

  ‘So do I what?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Look nice.’

  ‘I was hoping you might say dashing and handsome,’ Alex replied, adjusting his dickie-bow and preening at his reflection.

  I didn’t respond. It was taking every ounce of effort on my part not to start a full-scale row after Jeanie had disclosed chatting to her lover last night, and “trying” to stop the affair. I now realised that both Jeanie and Alex had given ridiculous excuses for their meeting. If such a rendezvous had truly been to hand over a payment towards Charlotte’s secret orthodontics treatment, then why hadn’t Jeanie just given me the money to pass on to Alex the last time we’d had coffee together? “Shh, Holly. Don’t tell Ray, because he doesn’t know I’ve been raiding the house-keeping, but make sure you give this envelope to Alex, please. There’s one-hundred quid inside.” Their excuses were so rotten, they stank. And Ray was just as big a fool as me for not spotting it.

  ‘You’re looking very po-faced,’ said Alex, turning away from the mirror. ‘What’s up?’

  I gave my newly tonged curls a quick spritz of hairspray and prayed they wouldn’t drop, then reached for my evening bag.

  ‘Nothing’s up,’ I snapped, instantly thinking of Jeanie again, who’d recently bragged that a certain part of her lover’s anatomy was always up. Up and up and awayyy, as her tingling fanny exploded into a climax of shooting stars, rockets and inter-galactic, orgasmic—

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ Alex frowned. ‘You were grimacing just then. As if in pain.’

  Oh I was in pain, all right. But it wasn’t physical. It was emotional. A terrible gnawing ache swooshing around my body, as if it had taken up residence in my circulatory system.

  ‘I told you,’ I scowled, ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Alex replied, sounding peeved. He followed me out of the bedroom and down the stairs. ‘By the way, it would have been nice if Sophie had bothered to say good-bye to me before going off to Caro’s. Our daughter’s manners seem to be on the poor side an awful lot these days.’

  ‘She did say good-bye,’ I said defensively, ‘but you were flat out on the sofa in front of the telly. It’s not her fault you were fast asleep.’

  ‘Okay, no need to get narky.’ Alex raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I can’t help it if my job knackers me out.’

  ‘Something certainly knackers you out,’ I said caustically, ‘or should I say someone?’

  ‘One or two of my patients are very demanding,’ Alex agreed.

  ‘Yes, I had heard,’ I replied, the lid lifting slightly on my simmering anger. ‘A little bird told me you’re going to try and refrain from such demands. Awfully good of you both.’

  ‘I have no idea what you’re wittering on about,’ said Alex, sitting himself down on the bottom step of the staircase and slipping on his shoes. He leant forward to do up the laces. ‘Are you putting Rupert out for a last wee, or shall I?’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I said sweetly, ‘you conserve your energy for tying both your shoelaces and self into knots.’

  I walked off in a cloud of perfume, Rupert at my heels, and opened the back door. A gust of wind blew in, raising goose bumps on my bare arms. I was wearing the slinky long black evening dress I’d bought to wear to Alex’s surprise birthday party next Saturday. It was a shame he’d see me in it twice in as many weeks, but then again, after his earlier tepid compliment, would he even notice? The dress’s front panel blew out slightly as another cold draught curled around my legs, separating the split that went nearly all the way up to my pants. I’d be flashing a lot of flesh tonight. Good. I wanted other men to stop and stare, and Alex to be proud and say to whoever he was talking to, “The woman over there who’s turning so many heads, you say? Yes, of course I know her. She’s my wife.”

  Rupert hopped back in, and I locked the door. He clambered into his basket with the sigh of one who had the weight of his owners’ problems on his hairy shoulders. Perhaps he noticed the atmosphere in this house sometimes and didn’t like it. I paused to consider him for a moment. He did look sad.

  Alex appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Can you stop prevaricating. The minicab is here.’

  ‘Hang on a minute. I’m worried about Rupert.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong with him?’

  ‘He looks depressed.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Alex tutted. ‘Give him a chew, and then get your coat on. I don’t want us being late.’

  I went to the cupboard under the sink and pulled out a plastic container full of doggy treats. Rupert instantly bounced out of his basket, ears up, eyes alight, tail beating a tattoo against the floor.

  ‘You old fraud,’ I said, as he gently took the dental stick from my hand. But then again, he wasn’t the only one good at deception in this household.

  * * *

  When we arrived at the venue, Jack was already there. Alex was immediately waylaid by one of the portly trustees, leaving me to greet Jack on my own. As he kissed me on both cheeks, my stomach did an enormous flip-flop. He was looking impossibly handsome in his tuxedo, like someone out of a James Bond movie.

  ‘You look stunning, Holly,’ he said, appreciatively eyeing my dress’s side splits. ‘You’ll be upstaging the celebrity they’ve booked to draw the raffle later.’

  ‘Give over,’ I said, blushing with delight.

  ‘I hear it’s Harriet Montgomery.’

  ‘You hear correct,’ said Alex, coming over and shaking Jack’s hand. ‘Harriet is on the verge of a massive comeback. We’re very lucky to have her here tonight. Let’s have a drink, Jack, while we’re waiting for your plus-one to arrive. I’ve just had a message that there was a muddle-up with the taxi firm, but her car is now on its way.

  ‘No problem,’ said Jack. ‘I’m sure your lovely wife will look after me until she arrives.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Alex, signalling to one of the waiters who was circulating with a silver tray loaded with champagne.

  The waiter glided over, inclining his head respectfully, as if we were royalty. We took our drinks and thanked him, and he reversed away, almost bowing and scraping. Alex spotted somebody of importance and excused himself.

  ‘Oh good, I have you all to myself,’ said Jack lightly. His eyes twinkled as they met mine. I nearly fainted. ‘Here’s to a lovely evening,’ he raised his
glass, ‘and, indeed, all lovely things.’

  Oh my God, was he flirting?

  ‘Y-yes,’ I nodded, ‘lovely… lovelies.’

  I took a greedy sip. Well, glug, actually. Steady, Holly. You don’t want to get disastrously pissed and show him your caesarean scar, do you? The reception area was filling up with hundreds of tuxes and glittery evening gowns. And to think I’d been boycotting events like this! I took another sip of champagne and reflected. I was pretty damn sure Alex had hugely played down these occasions, making them out to be very dull and full of old fogeys with dandruff over their dinner jackets. Across the room, I could hear Alex poshing-up his accent as he haw-haw-hawed with Sir Digby Something-or-Other, a revered patron of the organisation.

  ‘How’s the book coming along?’ I asked Jack.

  ‘Brilliantly,’ he smiled. ‘But never mind that. What have you been up to since your thoroughly entertaining dinner party?’ He was doing that thing again with his eyes. Twinkling.

  ‘Oh, nothing much,’ I shrugged. ‘Just a two-day stint at Alex’s practice, and then—’

  I paused, taking care over what I wanted to say. How exactly did one describe feeling like you were going mad as you lurched from doubt to suspicion regarding your husband and best friend pulling a fast one?

  ‘—being very busy wasting a lot of time,’ I concluded vaguely, and gave a little laugh. It came out sounding horribly brittle.

  ‘Is something troubling you?’ asked Jack. ‘I can’t help noticing that whenever I see you, you always look so sad.’

  Embarrassed, I necked the rest of my champagne and grabbed another from a circulating waiter.

  ‘Well,’ I blustered, ‘not so much sad, probably more mad,’ I nodded my head. ‘After all, I’m the mother of a teenager who has quite a lot of surly moments.’

  Jack smiled. ‘And the sister of a brother who loves to wind you up.’

  ‘Well, quite!’ I nodded, gulping down more champagne. ‘Simon loves nothing more than making jokes at the expense of others.’ Absent-mindedly I ran one hand along my chin, making sure the little hair he’d teased me about was not, even now, sticking out. My brother would have me believe that I had rogue hairs so long they trailed across the ground tripping everyone up.

  ‘And,’ continued Jack, softly, ‘let’s not forget the husband who barely notices you.’

  My glass, en route to my mouth, froze mid-air. I couldn’t quite believe what Jack had just said. Did I truly look sad all the time? And was it really so glaringly obvious to others that I had a husband so disinterested in me? But before I could deny such a statement, the man himself was bearing down upon us with Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth on his arm. My heart sank. She was holding on to Alex in a very proprietorial way. I saw the heads turning, as I’d rather hoped they might for me thus making Alex so proud. Instead, as he bore Annabelle across the room, quietly acknowledging the waves of envy directed at him, he looked like the cat who’d discovered the stolen milk was ice-cream with a 99 Flake stuck in the middle.

  ‘Jack,’ said Alex, all smiles, ‘I’m so sorry to have left you alone with Holly. You must have been bored to tears.’ I opened my mouth to say something, but then shut it again and went bright red. How acutely embarrassing. And probably true. I had been boring, talking about my daughter’s moods and my brother’s iffy banter. Jack was a neurosurgeon attending a related charity event, for goodness sake. I should have been attempting to make intelligent conversation about … about … cranial stuff. No, Holly, not ‘stuff’! Don’t you remember how scathing Alex was the last time you used that word? I stared at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me. I shouldn’t have come. Alex would have been much better holding court with the intellectual Annabelle.

  ‘She’s here at last!’ Alex was saying, his mood jocular. ‘Let me introduce the two of you without further ado. Jack, this is—’

  ‘I know who she is,’ Jack interrupted.

  My head snapped up just in time to see Jack looking politely at Annabelle who, it had to be said, was staring at Jack as if he had leprosy. Her lip curled into a sneer.

  ‘Well look who it is,’ she mocked.

  Alex’s face, previously wreathed in smiles, was swiftly transforming into one of bewilderment. ‘Have you two met?’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Jack pleasantly. ‘Annabelle is my ex-fiancé.’

  42

  As the four of us stood in our little group, it seemed as though the background noise and crowd receded at warp speed leaving us in our own private bubble. For a moment nobody spoke. The undercurrents were whizzing around, like orbiting electrons with us as the nucleus.

  ‘How are you, Annabelle?’ said Jack, eventually.

  His tone was so devoid of emotion he could have been talking to Aunty Shirley, rather than a woman he was once, presumably, passionately in love with. I looked from his face to hers. Jack’s expression was benign, but Annabelle’s features had contorted into one of pure rage. She reminded me of Rupert when he was squaring up to another dog. All peeled-back lips and bared teeth. A sneaky look at my husband revealed a shell-shocked expression and, it had to be said, one that conveyed he was also a little put out that the luscious Annabelle had ever consorted with Jack.

  ‘How am I?’ Annabelle hissed. ‘How am I?’ she repeated, this time sounding incredulous. ‘How the hell do you think I am?’ This last sentence was delivered at increased volume causing heads to turn, this time out of nosiness rather than admiration.

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Jack mildly, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.’

  ‘You went off to Africa without me!’ she said, her tone now one of accusation.

  ‘You were invited to come along.’

  ‘I didn’t want to go.’

  ‘Evidently.’

  ‘You should have abandoned the trip and put me first.’

  ‘It was work, Annabelle. Not a holiday.’

  ‘You could have taken a different job. I’d have done it for you,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘I wanted to help people elsewhere in the world. A golden opportunity arose. It wasn’t forever. As you can see, I’m back.’

  ‘Well don’t expect to crook your finger and have me come running. Because it won’t happen.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Jack pleasantly.

  ‘Anyway, I’m with someone else now,’ her eyes flicked briefly to Alex, and the action wasn’t lost on me.

  ‘In which case I’m very happy for you. Presumably the gentleman isn’t here, or he would have been able to accompany you tonight?’

  Annabelle’s eyes flicked to Alex again, but this time he didn’t catch her look and appeared to be discreetly studying his fingernails. My inner antenna roared into life. It was now swivelling about, on red alert, watching body language, listening for clues.

  ‘The gentleman can’t accompany me because…’ she paused, as if thinking how best to answer Jack’s question, ‘it’s complicated,’ she concluded.

  I gulped. So … so she wasn’t actually denying her man was here, just answering evasively. Stating that the romantic situation was difficult. Which, of course, it was. I already knew that her lover was a married man. And, of course, if that man were Alex it would indeed be doubly complex. Her man was here, but not with her. As such. Seemingly, Jack was alive to Annabelle’s caginess.

  ‘Yes, it’s always complicated when we love someone who is married to someone else,’ he said smoothly.

  Too flipping right. My brain was working overtime here. Did my husband have two lovers? Or was I going doubly mad?

  Annabelle’s eyes narrowed, and she was about to reply when Sir Digby walked over to our little group and tapped Annabelle on the arm. Immediately the background noise roared into life and the crowd zoomed back into focus.

  ‘Annabelle, darling,’ said Sir Digby, ‘our celebrity is here. I’d love to introduce you before we go in to dinner.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Annabelle, finally letting go of Alex’s arm and instead a
ccepting Sir Digby’s proffered elbow. She turned and walked away without a backward glance.

  ‘Well,’ Alex blew out his cheeks, evidently rattled.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Jack dryly. ‘That will teach me not to ask the name in future of a plus-one you team me up with, Alex.’

  Alex was looking at Jack like one might regard a piece of dog poo on the bottom of a shoe.

  ‘This puts a very different complexion on things,’ he said. ‘Annabelle looked absolutely shattered to see you, Jack. Forgive me, but as a long-standing supporter of this charity, her feelings come before yours. Therefore, for the rest of the evening, I would ask that you permit Holly to partner you, and I shall look after Annabelle. I will ask Sir Digby to take care of adjusting the seating arrangements.’

  I opened my mouth to protest, but then shut it again. It was the perfect excuse for Alex to spend the entire evening with Annabelle, seemingly coming to her rescue like a knight in shining armour – albeit without the bloody horse. I glared at him, but he avoided my gaze.

  ‘I hope you don’t get too fed up with Holly’s company,’ said my husband, reminding me that I had nothing of interest to contribute to conversation or, indeed, this evening, ‘but I will endeavour to rescue you wherever I can.’ And with that Alex hastened after Annabelle and Sir Digby, leaving me once again with flaming cheeks and feeling totally inadequate. As I watched my husband disappear through the throng, I turned to Jack apologetically.

  ‘This isn’t turning into a very good evening for you,’ I murmured.

  ‘I disagree,’ said Jack. ‘I now have the most beautiful woman in the room all to myself.’

  I reddened a bit more, but out of embarrassment. It was obvious he had only said that to make me feel better, especially after my husband had let it be known that poor Jack was now saddled with a mind-numbingly boring woman.

  ‘Um,’ I said, uncertain what to say next, so terrified was I of making tedious conversation. ‘Look, if you don’t want to talk to me, I’ll quite understand. In fact, I’m happy to take a taxi home and let you circulate without me hampering you. I’m clueless about trigeminal neuralgia and brain surgery – don’t know the frontal lobe from my elbow – so you mustn’t be afraid to say so.’