What Holly's Husband Did

by Debbie Viggiano

I gasped. Jeanie had been singing to Alex. Hadn’t she? If she hadn’t been singing to Alex, who the hell had she been singing to? My eyes pinged back to my husband who was still standing with Ray and… I gaped at the third man… Sebastian.

  Oh my God. Jeanie’s married lover was Sebastian!

  50

  Satisfied that she’d extracted revenge by publicly humiliating Jeanie, Izzy calmly returned the microphone to the gobsmacked lead singer, before jumping down from the stage and exiting the double doors of the Mayflower Suite. Two seconds later, a distraught Tabitha and white-faced Sebastian ran after her. Izzy had been determined to shame Jeanie, and had succeeded, but acting in the moment of red-hot anger she’d given no consideration to the feelings of her own daughter, nor to Jeanie’s children, and most definitely not to Jeanie’s husband. Now that Izzy, Sebastian and Tabitha were out of the picture, all eyes were on Ray, the cuckolded husband. He seemed to be welded to the spot, weeping openly with his stunned son and daughter now by his side, their arms wrapped around each other as they sobbed together. Simon and Alex moved as one, guiding the three of them towards the very doors that, only moments earlier, Izzy and her splintered family had moved through. As the doors swung shut after them, the crowd’s focus switched to Jeanie who was still standing on the stage, not knowing which way to turn, visibly reeling from her private world publicly crashing down around her. She was shivering violently, her face contorted with shock and grief. Had it been only moments ago that the crowd had been loving her, revelling in her audaciously sexy performance, her figure the envy of so many women and lusted after by many of the men? But now, she was reviled. A marriage wrecker. Trollop. The sort of woman that the sisterhood despised, and who men wanted to stay away from in case their wives gave them a hard time. It was one thing to flirt with the idea of extra-marital temptation, but quite another to give in to it and have everything blow up in your face. From the expressions on the faces of some men, it was apparent they were identifying with Sebastian’s demise.

  ‘What an idiot,’ one man was saying to another. ‘He’s lost it all. A lovely wife, nice kid, and have you seen the family home? Bloody incredible. He won’t be living there for much longer now he’s got a wife to pay off.’

  ‘Quite,’ said another. ‘No way would I risk losing my missus and kids for a few minutes of stolen fun with some tart who happens to have tits the size of watermelons. What a fool Sebastian has been!’

  The audience were chuntering now, their anger growing as one of the men pointed a finger at Jeanie and yelled, ‘Homewrecker!’

  She burst into tears, just as Caro and David climbed onto the stage, rushing towards her, David flinging his jacket over Jeanie’s shoulders as someone in the crowd lobbed a plastic beer glass which was quickly followed by another, and then a plastic wine flute.

  ‘Rubbish to rubbish!’ screamed a woman, who I recognised as one of Izzy’s loyal cronies.

  The whole drama, from start to finish, had barely lasted thirty seconds, but somehow it felt like thirty minutes.

  ‘I must go to her,’ I said to Jack, immediately circumnavigating around the angry crowd’s perimeter as Caro and David guided Jeanie through the double doors and out into the foyer beyond. I wondered what was happening out there. Had Ray caught up with Sebastian and recovered enough to throw him a punch?

  Before I’d even reached the exit doors, I was aware of Jack, now on stage, talking into the microphone.

  ‘The show’s over, folks, but the party is still on.’

  The band immediately launched into Tainted Love, which might have been appalling coincidence, but I didn’t pause to give it further consideration.

  Crashing through the doors, there was no sign of Izzy, Sebastian or their daughter, but in the foyer all hell was breaking out between Ray and Jeanie, with their kids firmly in their fathers’ camp.

  ‘You BITCH!’ Charlotte was screaming at her mother.

  ‘Don’t talk to your mother like that,’ Ray automatically chided, before wiping a hand across his eyes and saying, ‘but Charlotte’s right. You ARE a bitch, Jeanie.’

  ‘How could you do that to Dad?’ demanded Harry. ‘And how are we meant to face our mates at school on Monday?’

  Harry wasn’t old enough to think about anything other than his world and what his gossiping classmates would make of it all. He’d yet to register the bigger picture, the upheaval of his parents’ marriage that had been tossed without any warning into an emotional shredder, or the very serious fall-out, addressing which child would live with what parent if things weren’t salvageable. And right now, I had no idea if Jeanie’s marriage was beyond repair, or if Ray would even want to stick around to fix it. His eyes were brimming as he looked at Jeanie.

  ‘Why?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m sorry!’ Jeanie cried, making to go to him, but Ray instantly put his hands up, as if to push her way. She stopped in her tracks, her face crumpling. ‘Please, Ray. Don’t do this to me.’

  ‘Don’t do this to you?’ he cried, tears rolling down his face. ‘Jeanie, this is all your own doing.’

  ‘I know!’ she wailed, ‘and I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.’

  It was in that moment that Ray’s face changed from abject hurt and sorrow, to full-blown fury.

  ‘I think everyone here knows damn well it was Sebastian that got into you.’

  Jeanie looked like she’d been physically struck.

  ‘Please, Ray,’ she whispered, ‘don’t speak like that in front of the kids.’

  ‘You forget, Mum,’ Charlotte piped up, ‘that we might be kids, but we’re not tiny anymore. We know exactly what you’ve been up to. I can’t believe that my own mother has been cheating on my dad. And did you have any idea what you looked like up on that stage?’ Charlotte’s eyes were blazing. ‘You looked like some sad middle-aged woman, trying to pretend she’s still “got it”. Instead you made the biggest fool of yourself and, ultimately, us. You’re an embarrassment to your family. But most of all, you’re an embarrassment to yourself.’

  ‘Charlotte, you don’t understand,’ Jeanie sobbed.

  ‘No, she doesn’t,’ Ray spat. ‘None of us do. Come on, kids. Let’s go home. And you,’ he stabbed a finger at his wife, ‘you can find somewhere else to sleep tonight. Go to your lover.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to Sebastian!’ Jeanie cried, her chest heaving as she burst into fresh tears, ‘I want to go home with you. I love you.’

  But Ray and the children weren’t listening. They’d already turned on their heels and were striding along the corridor, towards the car park. Alex and Simon followed, Alex talking in a low voice to Ray, keeping him calm, uttering soothing advice, urging him to sleep on things and not do anything rash.

  Caro moved over to Jeanie, as did I.

  ‘What am I going to do?’ she sobbed.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, taking hold of her hand. It was cold in mine, the fingers wet from where she’d been wiping her face. ‘Ray is devastated. Right now, he needs some space.’

  ‘Come home with us,’ said David. ‘Holly’s right. You both need some space.’

  ‘I don’t want space,’ Jeanie sobbed, ‘I just want my husband.’

  I stared helplessly at my friend. She’d had a mid-life crisis and gone off the rails, taking so many people with her into the sidings. Even though I now knew the name of her lover – knew it wasn’t Alex – there was a part of me that held back from Jeanie still. I knew why. It was because she’d flagrantly kissed my husband at the start of the night. What had that been about? Simply a case of riding high on over-confidence? Or trying to make Sebastian jealous? Either way, I didn’t feel able to extend the hand of friendship and offer her a bed for the night in the Hart household.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Caro gently.

  ‘Do you want me to come with you?’ I asked Caro, ‘just for a while.’

  ‘No,’ said David, replying for his wife. ‘I think you’re forgetting that this is your husband’s birthday part
y. You need to stay here, with him.’

  ‘Of course,’ I said, relieved that I could step out of this drama. I felt I’d had enough of my own recently.

  ‘Can you do me a favour, Holly?’ asked Caro.

  ‘Absolutely, just name it,’ I replied.

  ‘Let our kids stay at yours tonight? I don’t think young ears should be listening to all this, especially if Ray comes around later to talk to Jeanie.’

  ‘You’re right,’ I agreed.

  I gave Jeanie’s hand a final squeeze, before Caro and David led her away.

  51

  Despite it being Alex’s party, he wasn’t interested in staying. He seemed out of sorts, and I put it down to the very public meltdown of Jeanie and Ray’s marriage.

  ‘I’m tired, Holly,’ he said, as we stood outside the Mayflower Suite, the pounding music making the double doors reverberate. ‘If you want to stay, then do so.’

  ‘But it’s your birthday, darling,’ I said, trying not to wheedle. ‘You can’t leave.’

  ‘I can, and I am,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ll go and say my goodbyes, and then order a mini-cab. Are you coming with me, or not?’

  Disappointment flooded through me. Bugger Jeanie and her sordid love affair for wrecking Alex’s party, not to mention the considerable financial outlay it had cost me. Everything was spoilt. Why did the best-laid plans never work out? And bugger Alex for always being tired. I was fed up of it. Sophie had already gone back inside, Caro’s children trailing happily after her. I could see them through one of the thin glass oblongs in the doors, dancing energetically and looking, luckily, like nothing awful had happened. Why should I further spoil her evening by saying we had to go home? I was also still smarting with annoyance at Annabelle. Still, if Alex went home, at least Annabelle wouldn’t have the opportunity to appropriate my husband for the rest of the evening. It was true – every cloud did have a silver lining.

  I sighed. ‘If you really want to go, then do,’ I said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘But if you don’t mind, I’ll stay. After all,’ I smiled tightly, ‘the suite and the band cost a fair bit, so the rest of us might as well get my money’s worth.’ I realised the comment sounded rather bitter, but was beyond caring. ‘I won’t cancel the return mini-cab. I’ll be back with all the children a little after midnight.’

  ‘Okay, and I’m sorry to do a bunk from my own birthday party but –’ Alex shrugged – ‘all that business with Jeanie and Ray has left rather a sour taste in my mouth.’

  ‘I thought you were tired,’ I said accusingly.

  ‘That as well,’ said Alex hurriedly. ‘Look, I’ll see you later.’ And with that he planted a hasty kiss on my cheek and made off to Reception to call a cab. I stared after my husband wondering what sort of man was constantly tired, so much so that he couldn’t even stay to his own party. I looked at my wristwatch. It was only half past eight.

  I walked back into the Mayflower Suite and caught Sophie’s eye. She grinned and waved as she danced with Lizzie, Joe and a large group of school mates. At least they were all having a good time. It made up for the disappointment of Alex not being here. And actually, perhaps I should take a leaf out of Sophie’s book? I’d paid for this chuffing party, so I might as well enjoy it. I spotted Mum and Dad with Aunty Shirley, Jack and Simon. I’d quite like to button-hole my brother and see if Ray had given any last-minute indication of things being repairable with Jeanie. They were all laughing and dancing rather badly. For them, the earlier drama was forgotten. Perhaps I would ask Simon about Ray tomorrow instead. For now, it was nicer to let the music claim me. Moving across the floor, I joined them. But within five minutes, Simon made his excuses to leave, saying his ex had texted him and wanted to talk.

  ‘Good luck,’ said Dad, clapping Simon on the back.

  I spent the next hour happily doing Ceroc with my father and jiving with Jack, washing down copious amounts of booze to cool me down when hot and out of breath. When the band switched tempo and the lead singer sang a love ballad, I found myself once again swaying with Jack, my body pressed up against his, and familiar stirrings rippling through me.

  ‘For the second week running,’ he whispered into my ear, ‘I’m dancing with the most beautiful woman in the room.’

  I laughed. ‘You do say the nicest of things.’

  ‘Only because it’s true,’ he assured.

  I was too happy to protest. I leant into him, enjoying his proximity, the smell of aftershave on his skin, the warmth of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt, and the touch of his hair tickling my hands that were now lightly meeting at the back of his neck. The urge to run my fingers through his hair was overwhelming. I wasn’t the most beautiful woman in the room. In fact, I wasn’t beautiful at all. Attractive on a good day. But Jack certainly made me feel beautiful. It was late now. Indeed, nearly time to go home. As we moved slowly in a tight circle, my eyes scanned the crowd for a woman who was most definitely very beautiful. Annabelle. My gaze flicked from left to right, my irises like searchlights in a prison camp, seeking the enemy out. For, in my head, Annabelle was indeed an enemy. She wasn’t here. I tensed as the sickening realisation dawned that I hadn’t seen Annabelle for hours. Not since my husband had left his own party.

  52

  When the minicab came to a stop outside our house, I practically threw the fare at the driver, so keen was I to get inside the front door. Sophie, Joe and Lizzie were taking an extraordinary amount of time to get out of the cab, and I suspected they’d shipped a few sneaky drinks at the party and were slightly the worst for wear. Leaving them to sort themselves out, I stuck the key in the lock and almost fell into the hallway in my haste. Rupert jumped out of his basket, bug-eyed, yawning, tail wagging in welcome as he stretched his front paws out, head down, bum up, and went off to greet the children.

  ‘Alex?’ I called.

  The lights were off downstairs, and I took the staircase two at a time, practically crashing into our bedroom. As the door flew backwards, Alex regarded me in annoyance.

  ‘Do you have to make such a racket?’ he complained.

  ‘I thought you were ash-leep,’ I slurred.

  ‘Well if I was, I’m not now,’ he said petulantly. He was sitting up in bed, glasses perched on the end of his nose, a book between his hands.

  ‘You said you were tired,’ I said accusingly.

  ‘I was,’ he replied, ‘and still am.’

  ‘So why aren’t you ash-leep?’ I demanded.

  ‘I’ve been dozing on and off, but didn’t nod off completely because I found myself listening out for you.’

  ‘Is that so?’ I squinted at him suspiciously.

  ‘You’re sounding very punchy,’ he sighed. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘What’s up?’ I stared at him incredulously. In the last few hours Annabelle Huntingdon-Smyth had called my husband her hero before suspiciously vanishing, one of my best friends had publicly wrecked her marriage, my carefully planned surprise celebration had back-fired, the birthday boy had abandoned his own party, and now he had the audacity to ask me what was up?

  ‘Where’s Annabelle?’ I demanded.

  ‘How should I know?’

  ‘Where is she?’ I repeated, my eyes full of accusation.

  ‘If you’re going to create a scene, Holly, shut the bedroom door.’

  I flicked the door shut with my foot. It clipped a hovering Rupert on the nose and he let out a squeak. I was momentarily torn between whipping the door open again to give the dog a cuddle or marching over to Alex and slapping him.

  ‘I’ll ask for the last time, where is she?’

  Alex lifted the duvet. ‘Not under here.’ He leant out of bed, peering underneath. ‘Nor here,’ came his muffled voice. Straightening up, he opened a bedside drawer. ‘Nope, she’s not in there either.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘She was here earlier.’

  ‘What, in this drawer?’

  ‘Don’t be facetious!’ I howled. ‘She left the party soon after
you did. Now why might that be, hmm? Was it, perchance, because you are her hero? Did she follow you home, Alex, while you dashed ahead, hastening into the bedroom, twirling around in the en-suite, before emerging in your Superhero tights and cape all set to wow her?’

  ‘I’m not sure Annabelle likes her men dressed in tights and capes,’ said Alex, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

  ‘I can’t carry on like this,’ I said, drink and shredded nerves catching up with me. I stuck out a hand and leant against the wall, suddenly feeling a need to be propped up.

  Alex got out of bed and came over to me. He was naked and his body smelt of lemon shower gel. He put his arms around me and hugged me tight.

  ‘You’re doing it again, Holly.’

  ‘Doing what?’ I demanded.

  ‘Making drama where there is none.’

  I froze. Was I? Oh my God, he was right. My anger, riding so high up until that moment, did an instant U-turn, evaporating faster than kettle that had boiled itself dry. Silent, I slowly nodded. It was true. I was running old patterns again. Jealousy. Insecurity. Wild accusations. My thoughts once more turned to seeing my doctor for a psychiatric referral. Here we go again. Round and round in never-ending circles. This had to stop, once and for all.

  ‘Hey,’ Alex said softly, ‘go downstairs and get a nightcap for the two of us. We’ll drink it in bed together. Have a snuggle.’

  ‘Can’t you get it?’ I asked in a small voice.

  Alex released me and stood back, arms outstretched, hands indicating I look at his body.

  ‘I’m not dressed. I don’t want Caro’s kids and our daughter seeing me.’

  ‘Oh, right. Okay, I’ll go. Brandy?’

  ‘Lovely,’ he replied.

  I paused, looking at his face. Was I mistaken or… did he just waggle his eyebrows? In which case… oh my goodness! My husband was sending out secret signals. He wanted to cosy down in bed together. Have a brandy. Warm his extremities up. And snuggle. Secret code for getting intimate. I didn’t need telling twice.