The Accidental Wife

by Rowan Coleman

  ‘OK,’ Kirsty said slowly, looking at the door. ‘Far be it from me to judge your insane reasoning, but what’s changed and made you so cross?’

  ‘I found out he went round to see Cathy. I knew he would. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it. But I hoped that he hadn’t because then there might still have been a chance for us. After everything he’s done to me I was still hoping for one last chance! I’m so stupid! But finding that out rather overshadowed all of his tears and declarations of remorse.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ Kirsty rolled her eyes. ‘That was nothing, it wasn’t even a kiss. It was barely a bit of hand-holding. It was all very repressed, all very Brief Encounter. Besides, Jimmy walked in at the last minute and broke it up.’

  ‘You knew?’ Alison exclaimed, finishing her drink and pouring herself another one from the bottle that Kirsty had left on the mantelpiece. ‘And you didn’t tell me?’

  Kirsty pursed her lips, looking at her watch as she folded her arms.

  ‘Right, now listen, she’ll be here in a minute so let’s get this straight. First of all, I’m doing you a favour here that you begged me to do even though I’ve only known you five minutes. And secondly, no, I didn’t tell you but neither have I told her that you offered to have sex with her husband. So can it with the condemnations, lady. I am not part of your Jacobean tragedy.’

  ‘Oh,’ Alison said, her crossness stalling and stuttering to a standstill. ‘Well, OK then.’

  ‘And if Catherine not kissing Marc is enough for you to doubt your genius master plan to remain locked for ever in a sham marriage then maybe she actually did you a favour.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Alison said a little sheepishly. ‘I heard that a lot of women are perfectly happy in sham marriages. They have the money, the status, sex with their personal trainers on tap …’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about sex with personal trainers,’ Kirsty said crossly. ‘Now let’s get this evening back on track and concentrate on what it’s really about. Getting you and Catherine talking again.

  ‘OK,’ Alison glanced nervously at the door.

  ‘Good, well, I’m nothing if not a good hostess. So help me microwave these curries.’

  *

  ‘I must admit,’ Alison said as she vigorously stabbed the film of one of the dishes, ‘I was surprised that she agreed to meet me quite so easily. What on earth did you say to her to get her to agree just like that?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Kirsty said, studiously reading the back of a packet of microwavable rice as if it held the secret to eternal life.

  ‘Nothing?’ Alison stopped stabbing, her fork hovering in mid-air.

  ‘Well, obviously she doesn’t know you’re going to be here!’ Kirsty exclaimed impatiently. ‘She would never have agreed to come then! No, this way is best, like ripping a plaster off a wound quickly. She’ll get here, she’ll be shocked and angry, possibly violent. And then we’ll all have a glass of wine and laugh about it.’ Kirsty bit her lip. ‘Hopefully.’

  Alison put down the fork. ‘I’m going home,’ she said blankly, heading for the front door.

  Kirsty stood in her way. ‘No you’re not. You’re the wound I’ve got to rip the plaster off.’ There was a sharp rap at the front door. ‘And besides, she’s here now. Don’t worry, this is Catherine. As far as I know she’s never hit anyone. Not since she decked that tart that slept with her husband.’

  ‘Hi!’ Catherine chimed as Kirsty opened the front door, determined to relax and enjoy the evening, even if she couldn’t stop thinking about Eloise. She handed Kirsty a bottle of sparkling rosé wine. ‘Do I ever need a drink. I hate it when the girls aren’t around, even if Eloise hates me. All I’ve done all day is pace around and think about …’

  Catherine tried to step past Kirsty and into the living room but Kirsty blocked her way. Catherine laughed and then frowned.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked sternly. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone and ditched me for Sam? Have you got him in there naked on the rug?’

  Kirsty stood on her tiptoes as Catherine peered over her head.

  ‘Now look,’ Kirsty said, ‘don’t get cross or say anything … loud. Try to remember that I’m your friend and I love you and believe it or not I listen to you. And so the only reason I’ve told this tiny little white lie is because I honestly thought that this was a really good idea, the perfect opportunity to banish all the demons and start afresh.’

  ‘What have you done?’ Catherine asked her, snatching back the bottle of wine on impulse.

  Taking a breath, Kirsty stood aside and let Catherine in.

  Alison was standing by the fireplace, clutching onto her glass of wine for dear life.

  ‘Hi, Cathy,’ she said. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

  ‘I’m going home,’ Catherine said, turning on her heel, but Kirsty stood with her back against the closed front door.

  ‘Normally it’s men I have to prevent from leaving,’ she joked for Alison’s benefit before lowering her voice. ‘No, you’re not leaving. Remember what you said to me? Remember that you said that when you saw her you didn’t hate her like you thought you would, that you even missed her a bit? Remember?’

  ‘I know, but I’m not ready for this, and you know I’m not ready, and that’s why you didn’t tell me.’

  ‘I know you. I know you’d never be ready. Just like you’ll never be ready to divorce Jimmy unless someone makes you. Well, now you have to be ready. Just give her a chance, see how it goes. Wouldn’t it be nice to just clear this whole thing up once and for all and forget about it?’

  ‘Look, I’ll leave,’ Alison said, cutting into their whispered conversation.

  ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, will everybody stop trying to leave before I start to take offence!’ Kirsty stared hard at Catherine, who returned the look with one that said, ‘I’ll get you later for this.’

  ‘No,’ Catherine said, backing away from the door and turning to face Alison. ‘No, don’t go. We’re here now and Kirsty’s microwave curries are famous for miles around.’

  ‘Good,’ Kirsty said efficiently. ‘Well, dinner will be ready in approximately forty-five seconds so let me take that bottle and your coat, and why don’t you two sit down and talk amongst yourselves?’ She paused. ‘Do you want it directly on your plates or in the plastic container? Only it saves on washing-up that way.’

  She waited as Catherine and Alison eyed each other warily.

  ‘Oh, what the hell, it’s a special occasion. I’ll put it on plates. You two can wash up.’

  ‘I didn’t know,’ Alison said, ‘that you didn’t know. I wouldn’t have come if I’d realised she’d set us up. I thought you were happy to come. I was really pleased.’

  ‘That’s Kirsty for you,’ Catherine said. ‘Full of idiotic plans.’

  ‘It’s weird seeing you after all of this time,’ Alison said tentatively. ‘You look great. I can see why my husband tried to kiss you.’ Catherine’s mouth dropped open and she looked over her shoulder towards the kitchen. ‘No, no, Kirsty didn’t tell me and neither did he. I just found out. I’m not going to get upset about it now. I just thought that as we’re here, on a new page, we might as well get everything out in the open.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Catherine said, with a shrug that hinted she wasn’t that sorry.

  Alison raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, don’t be too sorry. I offered to have sex with your husband.’ She tilted her head, adding a touch sharply, ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Did he accept?’ Catherine asked her, surprised by the tension she felt in her chest.

  ‘No, he turned me down flat. I never could get him to fancy me. All those years I used to follow him around … do you remember? He’s still a fox.’

  ‘I know,’ Catherine replied defensively, even though, to be quite honest, she hadn’t dwelled on her husband’s attractiveness for quite some time.

  ‘So how’s it going in here? ’Kirsty asked brightly as she came in with plates of steaming and largely orange
food, adding proudly, ‘I chopped that coriander.’

  ‘Awkwardly,’ Catherine said, shooting her friend a look that Kirsty studiously ignored.

  ‘Drink some more and that will sort that out,’ Kirsty said, opening another bottle of wine. ‘Now come on, dinner is served, and I haven’t slaved over this for, well, minutes, just for it to get spoiled.’

  There was silence as Kirsty refilled Catherine’s wine glass for the third time, watching her neighbour push a bit of irradiated chicken round her plate with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

  As she topped up Alison’s glass, Alison emptied it almost immediately.

  ‘It seems to be taking you two a lot of wine to loosen up,’ Kirsty observed, looking at the empty bottle. ‘At this rate I’ll have to go to the offy.’

  Neither of her guests replied.

  ‘OK,’ Kirsty said. ‘The way I look at it we can do one of two things here. Either we could treat this as a sort of therapy session. You two could air all of your grievances, talk about the sense of loss, the betrayal. You know, purge yourselves of all the bitterness and recriminations, hurl insults and accusations, make each other cry, and blah, blah, blah, or …’

  ‘Or what?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Go home?’ Alison added, hopefully, her eyes meeting Catherine’s briefly as for the first time in fifteen years they had something in common.

  ‘I’ve told you. Not an option,’ Kirsty said quite sternly, before erupting into a smile once again. ‘Or we can make my house Switzerland. We can pretend we don’t know anything about stealing husbands, abandoning friends, inappropriate passes and all of that sordid business you married types get up to, and just hang out and try to have a laugh. Tonight you are on neutral territory and from now on we shall not talk about anything to do with either of you. Here we shall talk woman to woman, friend to friend, and only of the truly important issues in today’s world.’

  ‘Which are?’ Catherine asked.

  ‘Me and how I can get Sam to like me, of course!’ Kirsty replied. ‘You two men-stealers must have a few tips on that between you. So drink up, we’ve got a lot of planning to do, and I always find the drunker I am, the better my plans get.’

  Kirsty put her palms on the table and looked around her. ‘Talking of which, where did I put that bottle of tequila?’

  ‘I’m not sure this is a good plan,’ Catherine said, screwing up her eyes as she sucked a wedge of lemon and then downed another shot of tequila.

  ‘Don’t be crazy, it’s a genius plan,’ Alison countered. ‘How could it possibly go wrong?’

  Catherine wagged an unsteady finger at Alison. ‘You would say that. You’re the girl who thought it would be a good idea to smuggle vodka into school in Coke bottles.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re complaining. I took the fall for that one,’ Alison said, turning to Kirsty. ‘Three days’ suspension I got, when she was just as drunk as me, only when I’m drunk I get all loud and hilarious, and when she’s drunk she gets all quiet and sullen so no one could tell the difference.’

  ‘I didn’t even know the vodka was in the Coke …’ Catherine began.

  Kirsty topped up their shot glasses. ‘OK, let’s recap the plan. We go round to Sam’s flat and then what?’

  ‘That’s as far as the plan got,’ Alison said, downing her shot.

  ‘That’s why it’s a terrible plan,’ Catherine said, her eyes watering as she downed her shot. ‘Going round to a man’s flat at past … one in the morning to spy on him qualifies as stalking, not wooing.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Kirsty said. ‘I can’t just turn up there and peer in through his windows to look at him. That would be wrong. Also, he lives on the second floor so it would be dangerous too. When we’re there I’ll tell him I love him and then … then he’ll know.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Alison said.

  ‘You are insane,’ Catherine said, leaning forwards on her elbows so that her nose was mere millimetres from Kirsty’s.

  ‘I told you,’ Alison said, tipping her chair back at a dangerously obtuse angle. ‘Sullen and morose, every time. She’s not a happy drunk.’

  ‘I am not sullen,’ Catherine protested, swinging her head in Alison’s direction. ‘I’m a very funny drunk. And anyway, it’s better than being a slutty drunk …’

  ‘Anyway,’ Kirsty said, slapping her palm down on the table, ‘Catherine, you should be pleased. You’re always telling me I shouldn’t try and play games with him, that the whole ignoring him thing wouldn’t work. Well, now I’m listening to you. Now I’m going to talk to him. Woman to woman. Man to man. Man to woman to … whatever. I’m following your advice so actually this is your plan that you’re dissing.’

  Catherine shook her head and began to stand up.

  ‘The pair of you are mentals and I’m not coming,’ she said, swaying forward and having to use the table to steady herself. ‘I want no part of this madness!’

  ‘Which is his flat?’ Catherine hissed as the three women crouched in the somewhat thorny bushes outside the Longsdale House apartment block.

  ‘It’s either that one,’ Kirsty said, pointing rather vaguely at three or four windows at once. ‘Or that one. Or that one. Or that one.’

  ‘The lights are on in that one,’ Alison said, pointing at one set of illuminated windows. ‘Let’s try that.’

  ‘Hang on!’ Catherine held her palms up in the universal stop sign. ‘What if it’s not his flat?’

  ‘Then we’ll try another one, obviously,’ Alison said.

  ‘That’s not a good idea,’ Catherine frowned at her. ‘I don’t know why, I can’t remember just at the moment. But it’ll come back to me.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ Alison said, making a ‘w’ with her fingers. ‘Whatever.’

  While they squabbled Kirsty had got up and was kicking about on the ground before bending down rather unsteadily and picking up half a brick she’d found whilst lurking in the bushes.

  ‘And what are you going to do with that?’ Alison asked her. ‘Brain him?’

  ‘No, I’m going to chuck it at his window – you know, like they do in the films,’ Kirsty replied, limbering up.

  ‘That will go right through his window, you moron,’ Catherine said. ‘If it even is his window. Come on, let’s find some stones, pebbles. If you’re going to throw stones at a random window you might as well do it properly.’

  ‘Swot,’ Alison said under her breath as she joined in the search for pebbles, on her hands and knees.

  ‘Bike,’ Catherine replied, as she clawed through the dirt.

  ‘Ladder,’ Kirsty added.

  ‘What?’ Catherine and Alison asked her, both at once.

  ‘Ladder. I could really do with a ladder,’ Kirsty explained.

  After a few minutes they had got together a handful of small stones for Kirsty to throw at the window that might or might not belong to Sam.

  ‘Right, I’m ready,’ Kirsty said, taking a deep breath. ‘This is it, girls. Showtime.’ She chucked the meagre handful with all her might and they peppered the soil about a foot and a half in front of her. ‘Oh. That didn’t go so well,’ she said, looking confusedly at the floor.

  The three women stood in silence for a moment, puzzled by the anticlimax.

  ‘I know!’ Alison shouted before she remembered that this was a stealth operation. ‘Sing him a song.’

  ‘Oooh, good idea,’ Catherine said, before immediately checking her enthusiasm for the plan. ‘Better than chucking bricks is what I mean. This whole thing is mainly a bad idea, but that particular part of it was a bit less bad than the rest.’

  ‘What shall I sing him?’ Kirsty asked them.

  ‘Well, what’s your song? What number sums up the precious moments that you’ve spent together?’ Alison asked her.

  Kirsty thought for a moment. ‘His mobile phone did go off once during sex. Apart from that we haven’t got a song, unless you count the combat training mega-mix workout at the gym. We used to take that class togeth
er.’

  ‘Well … how does it go?’ Alison encouraged her.

  ‘Sort of Da, da, da DA DA, da da DA DA, DA! DA! DA!’

  Catherine and Alison joined in with gusto, if not exactly any skill, and the three of them, leaning haphazardly against each other, sang at the tops of their voices.

  Once they’d run out of puff they paused, looking up at the lit window, waiting for a response. None came.

  ‘ ’S not working,’ Kirsty said, her shoulders drooping.

  ‘Double bastard glazing,’ Alison said. ‘Keeps out singing, which in my opinion is an unforeseen drawback. No wonder romance is dead in the modern world.’

  ‘We need to drink more,’ Catherine suggested. ‘If we drank more we’d have a better plan. I think I’m sobering up. For some reason I seem to have a terrible headache.’

  ‘Wait!’ Kirsty grabbed both of them and froze to the spot like a meerkat in the desert. The lights in the communal stairwell were coming on one floor at a time. Someone was coming down the stairs.

  ‘Hide!’ Catherine hissed, rugby-tackling the others into the bush just outside the door.

  ‘I’ve broken a nail because of you!’ Alison groaned miserably, wiping her muddy hand on her sweater. ‘Bitch.’

  ‘I wonder who’s going out at this time of night,’ Catherine said sombrely as they waited for the front door to open. ‘Must be a drug addict. Only a drug addict would be out now.’

  ‘Right, wait until whoever it is opens up and then rush the door,’ Alison said.

  ‘OK,’ Kirsty said. ‘Why?’