A Wife On Paper

by Liz Fielding

  Even as she said it, she realised how stupid that must sound. What kind of emergency called for a ride on the London Eye? Not that she had any intention of going on it. But the driver—who’d probably heard everything in his time—just said, ‘Yes, ma’am’, and set off enthusiastically enough in the direction of the huge wheel that carried people high into the sky over the Thames.

  Enthusiasm was no match for the slow-moving traffic, however. The meter was moving a lot faster than the taxi and, caught up in a bottleneck at Hyde Park Corner, it occurred to her that she could have got there quicker on the Underground. That she was wasting her time as well as her cash.

  Guy and Toby would undoubtedly be five hundred feet above London before she could get there. In fact, the longer she lingered in traffic, the more she was beginning to regret chasing after him. What was she going to do? Berate him in front of the queue for a popular tourist attraction?

  And what was she going to say to him anyway? You can’t buy my house, I won’t let you. It wasn’t her house and he could do what he damned well pleased. He’d bought an apartment as an investment, why not her house? It had, after all, belonged to his family once, and if he wanted it back it was nothing to do with her.

  ‘This is it, miss,’ the driver said.

  ‘What? Oh…’ Her desire to reach her destination had waned with every passing click of the taxi meter. She had to go home before she made a complete fool of herself. Think this through calmly…

  One look at the fare stopped her from telling the driver to turn around and take her back. In the interests of economy, the return journey would have to be made via public transport and she opened her purse.

  ‘It’s okay, I’ll get it.’

  And this time when she looked up, it wasn’t the totally scary ‘Eye’ looming over her, but Guy, taking charge, paying her fare, opening the door as if he’d been waiting for her. Expecting her. And ‘calmly’ went right out of the window. Perhaps it was just as well that Toby’s, ‘Mummy! Uncle Guy said you’d come!’ gave her a moment to catch her breath.

  ‘He did?’ She looked up. With his back against the sun, his face was shadowed, unreadable. ‘You did?’ she demanded.

  ‘It must be difficult letting Toby out of your sight just now. Especially with someone you don’t know very well.’

  It had been a stupid question, inviting a smug male response, but he was better than that. Kinder, to let her off so lightly. ‘I, um, hoped I hadn’t let it show.’

  ‘You didn’t.’

  He just knew?

  For a moment she felt warmed by his understanding. Then reality caught up with her. ‘Are you telling me that what you said about the house was just a ruse to get me to follow you?’

  She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or infuriated by that but before she could make up her mind he said, ‘So what took you so long? Come on, we’re ready to go.’

  She glanced up at the wheel. ‘Already? I thought you’d have to queue.’

  ‘I phoned ahead and booked while you were taking your time about answering the front door.’

  Toby caught at her hand and began dragging her towards the boarding area. ‘Come on, Mummy!’

  ‘Oh, but I don’t have a ticket,’ she protested, digging in her heels.

  ‘I booked three.’ Oh, right. Now he was a smug male… ‘It’ll do you good,’ he assured her in the most maddening way. ‘In fact, I believe you’ve already got a little more colour in your cheeks.’

  She didn’t doubt it. But it had nothing to do with fresh air.

  Restrained by her son’s presence, she couldn’t say the word she was thinking, but she gave Guy a look that would have left him in no doubt. He just grinned.

  And took her breath away.

  He’d smiled at her before. Once, twice, maybe, when Steven had introduced her. Restrained things that hadn’t reached his eyes. As if from the beginning he’d disapproved.

  This was something else.

  ‘Come on,’ he said impatiently, as she remained glued to the spot. ‘You know you want to ask me about the house. Once we’re aboard you’ll have me at your mercy.’

  ‘Ple-e-e-ease, Mummy!’

  The combination was lethal. How could she possibly say no?

  It would be okay if she didn’t look down, she told herself, as she allowed herself to be ushered into the capsule along with the rest of the group. So long as she didn’t stand up, kept her eyes on the distant horizon, she’d be fine. The trick was not to look down. Not even to think about looking down…

  Toby ran straight to the far end of the bubble so that he could see everything. ‘Oh, wow!’ he said. Then, ‘Look, Uncle Guy! Look, Mummy!’

  So much for sitting on the bench in the middle, as far away from the ‘view’ as possible. At least she didn’t have to speak. Guy pointed out the sights as, slowly, they began to rise, allowing her to turn her back on it as if she was more interested in something far in the distance on the opposite side.

  Realising that Toby didn’t want facts, that all he wanted to do was look, Guy turned to her. Perhaps it was her white face, her even whiter knuckles, that gave him the clue that she wasn’t entirely comfortable. Or maybe he just wanted to give her the chance to talk.

  Whatever the reason, he took her arm and said, ‘Let’s go and sit down.’

  ‘But Toby…’

  ‘He’s fine.’

  Intellectually she knew that. But intellect had nothing to do with a fear of heights.

  ‘Ask me about the house,’ Guy said, as he eased out her clenched fingers and led her across to the bench, keeping her hand between his as he sat beside her. ‘It’s why you came.’

  ‘Is it? I thought it was because I was a fretful mother.’ He didn’t reply. Fair enough. They both knew it was a delaying tactic. A putting-it-off moment because she didn’t want to know what he’d done. Whatever it was would be wrong. ‘Well, have you?’ she asked irritably. ‘Bought it?’

  ‘It’s your home. Now it’s safe.’

  Oh, good grief, he had!

  ‘And, I promise you, you’ll hardly know I’m there.’

  ‘There?’ She caught a glimpse of the Thames dropping away from them, felt a familiar sickening lurch in her stomach. This was more important. ‘What do you mean, there?’

  ‘That’s the “among other things” I mentioned. I’m going to convert the attic into a small self-contained apartment to use when I’m in London.’

  About to demand to know what gave him the right to think he could do any such thing, she checked herself. He’d bought the house. He had every right. Since her mouth was open and she had to say something, she said, ‘Won’t it be a bit of a squeeze after the Thames-side loft conversion with every luxury?’

  ‘I won’t miss it,’ he assured her.

  ‘Miss it?’ Miss it? ‘Are you telling me that you’ve sold it?’ she demanded. She’d assumed he was simply increasing his property portfolio. Using the opportunity to let the loft conversion at some fabulous rent. And the sinking sensation in her stomach had nothing to do with her fear of heights. ‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had to sell it to buy the house?’

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to force myself on you in this way.’ He didn’t look exactly distraught, but then he’d as good as admitted he hated the place. Even so…‘Fortunately, I’m not around that much.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it just be cheaper to pay the rent until I get myself sorted out? If you’re that worried about Toby being homeless?’

  ‘It isn’t just Toby, though. Is it?’

  ‘Steven wouldn’t expect you to take care of Matty and Connie.’

  ‘He asked me to take care of you and Toby. It seems to me you’re all a package and it really is easier to do it this way.’

  It certainly would be no simple matter rehousing Matty…

  ‘But you could have just renewed the lease.’ She didn’t want him to have bought the house, she discovered. That was too…personal.

  ‘That was my first th
ought,’ he said. ‘There’s no easy way to tell you this, Francesca, but your landlord gave Steve six months notice to quit four months ago. You only had a couple of months before you’d have had to move out.’

  Surprisingly, she didn’t feel any huge sense of shock. The revelations of the last week had taken her beyond any place where she could feel shocked. Steven had known he was on borrowed time, that there was nothing he could do to put things right. Her only regret was that she hadn’t overridden his insistence that she shouldn’t send for Guy sooner. In time.

  She couldn’t find it in her heart to blame him for lying to her, even when he had been dying. Keeping up the pretence. There was no point. He was gone and all she could think about was the stress he must have been under. Keeping up the front of a successful businessman. The doting husband and father. The lavish gifts. Never letting it show. For months…years…

  No wonder he’d been so adamant that she need never get involved with finances. It was the last thing he had wanted.

  ‘Poor Steven,’ she said at last. ‘How he must have suffered. No wonder he asked you to marry me. He obviously couldn’t think of anything else to do.’

  Guy blenched. The compassion in her voice sliced deep into the hope buried so deep within him that he had dared not acknowledge it.

  Despite everything, she couldn’t bring herself to blame his brother for the magnitude of the disaster he’d brought on her. She should be railing against what he’d done to her. Instead she felt empathy.

  Any hope that one day she might recover from her loss sufficiently to see him as anything other than Steve’s disapproving brother was dealt a mortal blow.

  ‘Do you think that the stress might have been a factor in his death?’ she asked. ‘He went down so fast. I did ask him if I should get in touch with you, but we all thought he’d have more time. At the time I was just grateful he didn’t linger, suffer more, but—’

  ‘Francesca,’ he said, desperate to stop her blaming herself. ‘There was nothing you could have done. His charm, his persuasiveness, were his greatest gifts. He fooled me more times than I can remember.’ Had fooled him into parting with a ‘deposit’ for the house. ‘Believe me, he was irresistible and he knew it.’

  She almost smiled. ‘There’s no need to be kind.’

  ‘Not kind. Realistic. You’ve nothing to blame yourself for.’

  She looked at him for a moment. Then nodded. ‘Thank you.’ Then, ‘I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this mess. You really don’t have to buy the house. We’ll manage somehow.’

  ‘It’s—’

  ‘And don’t tell me you’ve bought it already. It takes weeks, months to buy and sell property.’

  ‘Most of it spent with the papers sitting in some lawyer’s pending tray. Tom Palmer has a century of papers on that house. Nothing has changed in the last ten years—’

  ‘Except the extension.’

  ‘Except the extension,’ he agreed. ‘Fortunately, the owner didn’t know about that, or it might have caused you some problems. As it is I’ll have to sort it out with the planning people.’

  ‘No. It didn’t need planning permission. Steven said…’ She stopped. ‘Oh, great.’

  He reached out, lightly touched her hand. Immediately withdrew it when she jumped as if scalded. ‘Forget it,’ he said abruptly. The only way this would work was if she thought him completely oblivious. Just doing his duty… ‘It’s done. Your home is safe and you can stop worrying about what’s going to happen to Matty and Connie and the stray cat. You’ve been through enough.’

  ‘How did you know about the stray cat?’

  ‘Give me some credit for imagination. You’ve got everything else. And, since you were denied the rescue dog, there had to be a stray cat.’

  Guy didn’t sound particularly impressed and she didn’t blame him. Was that the way it had always been? Steven messing up. Guy bailing him out.

  ‘You can’t do this, Guy,’ she said. And she wasn’t just talking about the house. ‘I won’t let you.’

  ‘It isn’t in your power to stop me, Francesca. Besides, as I said, it’s already done.’

  ‘You can’t have exchanged contracts.’

  ‘I can and I have. All that was required was the finance and the will.’

  She knew she should be grateful, but she wasn’t. She was just angry. ‘This is stupid. We are not your responsibility.’ She looked up at him, trying to read his face. Nothing. He seemed to be able to lock down his emotions. Keep them hidden. ‘What did Steven say in that letter he left you?’ A lot more than was in the not-really-a-codicil to his will she was certain.

  ‘He was concerned about Toby. That’s all.’

  It came out so easily that she had the feeling that, anticipating the question, he’d rehearsed his answer.

  It wasn’t all. She could see from his eyes that it was far from all. And from the set of his jaw that he wasn’t going to tell her any more.

  ‘You must see that it’s the sensible solution for everyone,’ he continued. ‘I don’t need a vast apartment sitting empty half the time. You need a home for Toby and everyone. And you needn’t worry about the future, either. With Steve dead I had to make a new will. I’ve left everything to you.’

  ‘Guy…’ Her voice caught in her throat.

  ‘I find it’s the things you don’t allow for that catch you out.’

  Every time, she thought.

  She thought she’d met Prince Charming, was having his baby, had thought that life was going to be happy ever after.

  Then she’d walked through the door of a restaurant and discovered that life wasn’t that simple.

  It had been an illusion, of course. That moment when she’d looked at Guy Dymoke and had a momentary vision of what ‘happy ever after’ really meant. It had been over so quickly that she had managed to fool herself into believing that she’d imagined it. It hadn’t been difficult. Seconds later she couldn’t believe he was the same man. He’d been so distant, cold, living up to Steven’s description so completely that she’d managed to put the moment behind her. Which was just as well. She was already on a path from which there was no turning back.

  Except that Steven had lied. Lied about himself. Lied about his brother. And she had lied, too. The only part of their relationship that wasn’t a lie, it seemed, was Toby. She looked at the sturdy little boy standing a few feet away from her, completely absorbed by something below them.

  ‘Don’t leave your estate to me. Leave it to Toby,’ she said, when she’d recovered sufficiently to speak. ‘He’s your heir. At least for now.’

  ‘You are his mother. You will take care of him. And as my wife you can inherit everything without the Chancellor taking his cut.’

  ‘Oh, please! You’re not seriously going to marry me as a tax avoidance measure?’

  ‘If I fell under Matty’s metaphorical bus, you’d have to sell the house to pay inheritance tax. This way makes more sense.’

  ‘It makes sense if you haven’t got a heart, but since we’re talking about the unexpected, let’s really go for it.’ She looked at him, demanding a response.

  ‘What’s on your mind?’

  ‘This. We get married. You live upstairs in your little apartment. Me and Lame Ducks Incorporated are spread out all over the rest of your house. That’s what you have in mind, right?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Okay. Now tell me this. What happens when you meet the girl of your dreams and fall in love?’

  Fran had to ask the question, even though the very idea of him falling in love drove daggers through her.

  ‘That’s the one thing that isn’t going to happen, Francesca.’

  His conviction shook her momentarily, but she pressed on. ‘Guy, I know you spend most of your life in the wilderness, chipping lumps off rock looking for oil and minerals—’

  ‘Really it’s a bit more technical than that,’ he objected.

  ‘—but you do return to civilisation occasionally. And please don�
�t try to kid me that you’re gay. That wasn’t a submarine I saw in the bath…’

  Oh, sugar! Blushing furiously, she found herself trying to shovel the words back in with her tongue, covering her hot face with her hands.

  He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even make some snippy comment about getting some ‘colour in her cheeks’. He said, ‘It isn’t going to happen, Francesca.’ She frowned, forgetting her embarrassment. ‘I’ve already met the only woman I ever wanted to marry. She was in love with someone else.’

  She knew without question that he wasn’t trying to make it easy for her. He was telling her the plain, unvarnished truth. And because she knew instinctively that, for him, love once given would be given for ever, she felt something, some small spark of hope, die inside her.

  And all she could say was, ‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea.’

  ‘I’ve learned to live with it and Steve knew. That’s why he asked me to marry you. It’s no big deal, and this way if I do fall off a mountain or get eaten by a crocodile, you’re taken care of. I can go away without having to worry about you or Toby.’

  How ironic. How perfect. They were both in love with someone who could never return their love. They were the ideal couple.

  ‘So? Can I go ahead and confirm the arrangements?’

  ‘What?’ Then, ‘Oh, yes. I suppose so,’ she said, finally surrendering to the inevitable. ‘When did you have in mind?’

  ‘As soon as possible.’

  She took in a deep breath.

  ‘There’s no point in waiting. It’s purely a business arrangement. I promise you won’t find me in your bath—with or without submarine—on a regular basis.’

  That’s what was so terrible. If it had been unbridled passion there would be some excuse…

  ‘Steven is scarcely cold in his grave,’ she protested.

  ‘It was his idea,’ he reminded her.

  ‘He was dying. Desperate.’

  Whoever he was in love with was wise to steer well clear, she thought. This man could break your heart without even trying. To know that he loved someone else was difficult enough…

  ‘This is madness,’ she said. ‘Impossible.’