What Holly's Husband Did

by Debbie Viggiano

  ‘Annabelle was crying because she’s fed up not being able to be with her married lover.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know!’ I spat.

  ‘But her lover isn’t me, Holly.’

  And then my husband said something that totally took the wind out of my billowing sails.

  ‘Annabelle’s lover is Sir Digby.’

  44

  Alex brushed past me, slamming out of the house and leaving me, as always, feeling wrong-footed. My mind flipped back to last night. Indeed, Annabelle had spent quite a bit of time chatting and laughing with Sir Digby and, now that I thought about it, I did remember Sir Digby’s wife giving Annabelle some very frosty glances. But in the moment, I’d made nothing of it.

  I finished cleaning up the kitchen, took Rupert for a brisk walk, and then drove over to Caro’s to collect Sophie.

  ‘Aw, Mum,’ Sophie complained, ‘I’m not ready to go home. Lizzie and I are half way through making a vlog.’

  ‘Leave them to it,’ Caro laughed, ‘and tell me how the dinner-dance went. You look awful, so it must have been good.’

  I pulled up a chair at Caro’s kitchen table and flopped down. ‘No, it wasn’t good.’

  ‘You’re kidding,’ said Caro, busying herself with the kettle and mugs. ‘That’s a shame. Was it awful disco music? I always think a rubbish DJ can make or break an event.’

  ‘No, it was nothing like that, although I did end up dancing to somebody else’s tune.’

  Caro gave me a sidelong glance. ‘What’s that comment supposed to mean?’

  ‘Alex arranged a plus-one for a female charity colleague, Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth. She was meant to be partnering up with Jack.’

  ‘Jack? Are you talking about that heavenly man who was at your dinner party?’

  ‘The one and same,’ I nodded. ‘Except the universe was having a laugh last night, and it transpired that Annabelle was Jack’s ex-fiancé.’

  ‘That’s a coincidence. Did they have a good laugh about it?’

  ‘On the contrary. Annabelle had a hissy-fit, so Alex was forced to be her partner for the rest of the night.’

  ‘Oh dear. So that left you all alone with the delectable Doctor Jack,’ Caro chuckled.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, colouring up. ‘I’ll admit he’s easy on the eye but—’

  ‘Easy on the eye?’ Caro hooted with laughter. ‘That man is easy on everything!’ She waggled her eyebrows, then put two of her fingers together and kissed them. ‘One word. Yummy.’

  ‘Yes, all right, he’s yummy,’ I agreed. ‘But Jack isn’t the reason why the evening was spoilt.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  I contemplated my hands, twisting them together in my lap. The relief to unburden was immense.

  ‘If I tell you something, can you keep it to yourself?’

  ‘That goes without saying.’

  ‘Including not sharing it with David?’

  I saw Caro’s hesitation. ‘It’s hard not to let things sometimes slip out,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to tell David about Jeanie having an affair with a mystery man, but unfortunately drink loosens the tongue, and I can be rather partial to half a bottle of red on a Saturday night. Maybe if you’re hugging a secret, better not to tell me.’

  ‘Just try your best, eh?’ I said grimly, before continuing. ‘I’m making an appointment with a doctor on Monday.’

  Caro visibly paled as she set the coffees down on the table. ‘Why? Is it a health scare? Do you want me to come with you?’

  I smiled, despite my misery. ‘Bless you, no, it’s nothing like that. I think I need anti-depressants. Or counselling.’

  Caro’s brows knitted. ‘Holly, what are you talking about? Just tell me what is troubling you. And from the beginning, please.’

  I took a sip of coffee and deliberated whether to let everything spill out. But my mouth had already made the decision for me, forming words, spewing out the whole sorry mess of my marriage, from Alex’s sext messages last Christmas, to my lies about the superior bonk, the revelation that my sex life amounted to nothing more than half-a-dozen very brief couplings in a year, plus my suspicions about Alex’s erratic work hours dove-tailing with Jeanie’s fictitious visits to the gym, and that I didn’t know whether Alex was having an affair with Annabelle, Jeanie, or both.

  ‘Good God,’ said Caro, as I rattled to a close.

  ‘God’s not interested,’ I sighed, ‘because none of my fervent prayers have been answered. Oh, tell a lie. He answered my prayer for conceiving a child fifteen years ago. Believe me, that was nothing short of a miracle.’

  ‘Holly, you can’t seriously be telling me that you’ve been married all these years and, well, that it’s always been like this?’

  I nodded sadly. ‘Yes. But I just put it down to his job. Busy lives. Investing energies into a business and a home.’ I gave a hollow laugh. ‘Instead he was saying “open wide” to other women. And why stop at Annabelle or Jeanie? How many more mistresses have there been over the years? The fact is, I don’t excite my husband. And probably never have.’ And with that, I burst into tears.

  It was such a relief to have confided in someone. I hoped Caro would keep her promise not to tell David, but then again, so what if she did tell him? It wouldn’t go any further. And anyway, I hadn’t forgotten that David had been alive to the way Jeanie and Alex had huddled together at my dinner party, with David even suggesting the pair of them were having a fling. It wasn’t just my imagination running amok here, somebody else had noticed things weren’t quite right.

  ‘So where is Alex at the moment?’ asked Caro eventually.

  ‘Supposedly at Bluewater buying shirts,’ I sniffed, and wiped a hand across my eyes.

  ‘Perhaps he is!’ she said, injecting optimism into her voice.

  ‘Maybe,’ I acknowledged. ‘It will be interesting to see if he comes home with any shopping.’

  Our daughters suddenly appeared, in high spirits, keen to show us the vlog they’d made. I let my hair fall across my face, so Sophie wouldn’t see my pink eyes, but Caro firmly waved the girls away.

  ‘Not now,’ she said, ‘we’re chatting. You two aren’t the only ones with the monopoly on girly talk.’

  ‘But, M-uum,’ wheedled Lizzie. ‘We want you to check out our vlog!’

  ‘Later. Meanwhile, go and make another one!’

  The girls shuffled out, but not before raiding Caro’s fridge of chocolate and cola.

  ‘That will keep them quiet for a bit,’ she nodded, watching them go. She stood up and shut the kitchen door behind them. ‘Listen to me, Holly,’ she said, returning to her seat with a thoughtful expression. ‘I think you’re wrong. Jeanie wouldn’t do that to you. She’s our best friend. She’s admitted to having a fling, but she hates herself for it. I think even Jeanie would draw the line at bonking one of her bestie’s husbands and then bragging about it.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Yes, I do!’ she said.

  I shook my head. ‘I just don’t know what to believe, Caro. One minute I think everything is fine, that Alex and I are rocking along nicely together. Then suddenly Jeanie is hopping into Alex’s car for a rendezvous. Alex always comes up with a plausible explanation – a cash payment for Charlotte’s braces. But last night, another question mark arises. I find Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth in a clinch with Alex behind a potted palm. When I confronted him, he said he was consoling her because she was upset about her married lover being there with his wife. There’s always a credible excuse. It’s reached the point where I think he’s either an extremely good liar, or I’m going around the bend.’

  ‘No you’re not,’ Caro assured. ‘Look, it might well be that the explanations Alex gave you about being with Annabelle and Jeanie are completely genuine. And as for his sex drive, well, he does work hard. It’s perfectly understandable that his dental practice takes all his attention and energy. I do agree with you, however, that the pace of your sex life is a little…’ Caro paused to thi
nk how best to tactfully describe it, ‘quiet,’ she concluded.

  ‘Quiet?’ I snorted. ‘Alex’s libido is so flipping quiet I swear I hear it snoring. Which is why,’ I frowned, ‘it doesn’t make sense that he’s having affairs.’ I rubbed my eyes wearily. ‘I don’t know what to think anymore. Perhaps I’m nothing more than a sexually frustrated overly suspicious wife giving him a lot of grief over nothing.’

  Caro stood up again and went to her handbag perched on the worktop. She rummaged around for a moment, then pulled out her mobile.

  ‘I don’t know about Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth,’ she said, sitting back down at the table, ‘and certainly don’t have her contact details to track where she is right now. But both of us have Jeanie’s number programmed into our phones. Let’s rule Jeanie out of the equation once and for all over who her mystery lover is. I’ll call her on the pretext of asking about some homework. Let’s see if she’s at home with Ray, or whether she’s made an excuse to go out – like you feel Alex has.’ She gave a crafty smile. ‘Detective Caro is on the case!’ she said, flashing a smile to try and lighten my mood. She pressed the button by Jeanie’s contact details, switching the phone to loud speaker so I could hear the conversation. The line connected and began to ring. ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ she assured, reaching across the table and patting one of my hands.

  ‘Hello?’ said Jeanie, sounding breathless.

  ‘Hiya, it’s only me,’ Caro trilled. ‘I just wanted to ask you about a homework assignment that was set for this weekend, and whether it needs handing in tomorrow or—’

  ‘I’m out at the moment,’ said Jeanie. ‘Give Ray a call. He’ll know.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Caro, in surprise. ‘Okay, will do. Er, where are you?’

  Jeanie gave a throaty laugh. ‘Use your imagination,’ she said, before disconnecting the call.

  Caro slowly put the mobile down on the table. For a moment, we both regarded it in silence. When she next looked at me, her eyes were troubled.

  45

  ‘It must be a coincidence,’ said Caro quietly. ‘It must be, Holly. She wouldn’t do that to you, I know she wouldn’t.’

  Tears were running down my cheeks again. I tore off a piece of kitchen towel from the roll sitting on Caro’s table, patting my cheeks frantically, fearful of Sophie and Lizzie returning, and my daughter being alarmed at what was wrong.

  ‘I disagree,’ I shook my head. ‘If she can deceive her husband – the father of her children and supposedly her soulmate – then betraying a friend is nothing more than –’ I cast around for a comparison – ‘I don’t know, brushing a bit of flick off one’s skirt.’

  ‘Have you thought about confronting her?’

  ‘I came perilously close to it at my dinner party. Instead of asking her outright if it was Alex she was having the affair with, I wimped out and simply asked who her lover was. I’ve asked her a couple of times now, and she’s refused to tell me. That, in itself, is surely suspicious?’

  Caro shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I would have thought she’d have confided in me, but she hasn’t.’

  ‘She wouldn’t confide in you, because you’re best friends with me.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Caro nodded. ‘But hypothesising about whether Jeanie is or isn’t having an affair with Alex doesn’t give an answer. The best person to ask is your husband.’

  ‘Caro, I keep accusing him of all sorts, and he keeps denying it. If I ask him outright whether he’s bonking Jeanie, what do you think he’s going to say?’

  ‘Tell him you demand to know the truth,’ Caro said firmly.

  ‘And he’ll give me another display of eye-rolling facial expressions, hands on hips, heavy sighs, and stomping off with the hump. He doesn’t want a divorce, I do know that much.’

  ‘My God, you’ve discussed divorce?’ Caro shrieked, looking horrified.

  ‘Not in the way you’re thinking,’ I gave a ghost of a smile. ‘It was more, sort of, asking him if he was happy being married to a wife who, in the last year, has given him a hard time.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘He said he wanted to stay married because we had a lovely life together.’

  ‘Well there you go then!’ said Caro, her tone placating.

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ I gave a bark of laughter. ‘Some men simply thrive on having a mistress. Or mistresses,’ I said miserably.

  ‘Holly, you’re going around in circles again. Would you like to know what I would do in your shoes?’

  ‘What?’ I sighed.

  ‘I’d forget making an appointment with your doctor for anti-depressants. It’s a marriage guidance counsellor you need to see.’

  I chewed my lip. Caro was right. It would be blissful to unload to an impartial person who would supervise us, listen to our grievances, and no doubt come up with some good old-fashioned common sense on sorting our marriage out. I wasn’t quite sure how to persuade Alex we needed marriage guidance counselling, but maybe I’d tentatively discuss it with him later. If he hadn’t, in the meantime, eloped with Jeanie.

  I left Caro’s house feeling slightly better. By the time Sophie and I arrived home, Alex was back from Bluewater. Rupert greeted us ecstatically, and then bounded upstairs with Sophie. Suddenly I was alone in the hallway with Alex. He watched me pull off my shoes, a thoughtful expression on his face. Why was he hovering?

  ‘What’s up?’ I asked, shoving my feet into my comfortable old slippers.

  ‘Nothing,’ he shrugged.

  I brushed past him and padded off to the kitchen. It was then that I spotted my largest crystal vase, usually hidden away in a cupboard, out on the kitchen island. It was filled with flowers. The arrangement was huge, full of extravagant blooms, including white velvety roses and tangerine tiger lilies. Their perfume invaded the air, and I sniffed appreciatively.

  ‘Like them?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Yes,’ I said quietly. ‘They’re beautiful.’

  ‘They’re a sorry present,’ he said, coming over and putting his arms around me.

  I looked up at him, feeling a mixture of hope and despair.

  ‘Tell me what you’re apologising for,’ I said quietly.

  He blew out his cheeks. ‘Lots of things.’

  ‘Oh?’

  He nodded. ‘You’re right. I should have asked you to dance last night. That was very remiss of me. I spent too long trying to keep Annabelle occupied and away from Sir Digby’s wife who, it must be said, suspects her husband of being overly fond of Annabelle. I won’t deny that I was hoping the blind date with Jack would be a roaring success, and that they’d fall for each other. Such rotten luck that they’d already done that, and then fallen out as well.’

  ‘Yes, that was one hell of a coincidence.’

  ‘I’m also sorry that I implied you were boring. Everyone has different qualities. Just because Annabelle is an intellectual—’

  ‘Careful,’ I warned, ‘you were doing so well just then, don’t spoil it.’

  ‘Let me finish,’ said Alex. ‘You’re not dull, Holly. You have qualities that Annabelle doesn’t have. You’re a wonderful mother, a good cook, and a great home-maker. I can’t imagine Annabelle peeling a mountain of vegetables and whisking up one of your incredible roast dinners. She’s more likely to exist on edamame beans and mineral water. Nor can I visualise her colour co-ordinating cushions and curtains and soft furnishings. You’ve put this house together and made it the home it is. It’s beautiful. I suspect Annabelle would probably employ an interior decorator and furnish everything in ice-white.’ Alex tightened his grip around my waist. ‘And finally, I’m sorry I didn’t ask you to come along to Bluewater with me. You’re right, it would have been nice to have had some “us” time together. It was selfish of me to exclude you.’

  ‘Okay. Apology accepted. Did you buy any shirts?’

  ‘Several, and in lots of different colours. If you put them all together, they look like a rainbow.’

  ‘Good heavens, tha
t sounds very flamboyant.’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, it is a bit. Your brother made a bitchy comment to me at our dinner party about how I always wear black shirts, and had I thought about giving up dentistry and opening a funeral parlour?’

  I looked at my husband in amazement. ‘Since when did you start taking fashion advice from Simon?’

  ‘Since never,’ Alex said adamantly. ‘As it happens, M&S had huge posters in store of David Gandy modelling. He was lolling around in various poses with a cashmere sweater slung around his shoulders, and a long blade of grass stuck between his teeth. You know the type of pose.’

  I smiled. ‘Ah, so because David Gandy was wearing colourful shirts, and not Simon, that made buying them okay, yes?’

  ‘Precisely,’ Alex nodded. ‘As it’s my birthday next Saturday I thought I’d treat myself. I even bought the cashmere sweater,’ he added, looking a bit sheepish, ‘although you’ll be pleased to know I didn’t flag down a sales lady and ask if they sold grass.’

  ‘Yes, that might have been misconstrued,’ I smiled.

  ‘I’m not sure what Jenny will say when I walk into Reception on Monday morning dressed in lilac. She’ll probably think I’ve been sniffing the patients’ laughing gas.’

  ‘And you’ll find yourself the subject of gossip with all the nurses for the rest of the day,’ I giggled.

  ‘Perish the thought.’ Alex gave a mock shudder. ‘Anyway, enough about them. Are we good again?’

  I nodded my head slowly. ‘I guess.’

  ‘You guess?’

  ‘Alex, can I ask you a question without you hitting the roof?’

  There was a pause while he looked at me. ‘I know what you’re going to ask, Holly.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded his head sadly. ‘You don’t trust me, do you?’

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out other than a strangled sob.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he said, holding me even tighter. ‘Ever since those blasted, stupid, ridiculous, damned bloody texts last Christmas—’