The Millionaire's Wife

by Shalini Boland

  I exit the Land Rover, lock it and pull my thin scarf up over my nose. The air is colder here than back home by the coast, the wind is biting and I’m not dressed for it. I walk across the gravel car park towards the entrance. A chalk board outside the main entrance proclaims a two-for-one deal for OAPs in the café on Mondays to Thursdays. Maybe that’s why the car park is almost full.

  I haven’t spoken to Fin for three years. I wonder if I’ll even recognise him. If he’s changed at all. If he’ll see differences in me. I push open the glass door, relieved to be out of the stinging cold. I’ve never been here before. The door swings closed behind me and I find myself standing in a vast shop displaying homewares, plants, garden ornaments and gifts. Normally, it’s the kind of place in which I’d enjoy browsing. Not today.

  A rumble of chatter and the clattering of plates and cutlery drifts from the café at the other end of the building. I wonder if he’s here yet. My heart is in my throat. I shouldn’t have come, and yet, did I really have any choice?

  I find myself walking into the café, scanning the room. I’m a normal person doing normal things. Except there’s nothing normal about this meeting.

  The café is a self-service place where you queue up with a tray to order your food and drinks. There must be around thirty or forty tables in the place and most are full. It’s not the small, quiet café I envisaged. A hand on my shoulder startles me and I turn.

  ‘Anna.’

  After all this time, Fin still has the ability to make me catch my breath, and I hate myself for betraying Will like that. Fin looks just the same . . . No, now I look more carefully, I see he’s somewhat changed. His cheekbones are more defined and he has a little more stubble on his chin. His hair is shorter and he’s dressed more smartly than he ever was when he was with me. Gone are the surfy, casual clothes. In their place are designer jeans, an Aran sweater and a navy, wool military-style coat. But he’s still Fin, and all the memories come rushing back, twisting at my heart and making me wish more than ever I’d stayed at home today.

  His hand comes up to rest on the arm of my coat and he leans in to kiss me on the mouth. I jerk backwards, the scent of him still so familiar, even after all this time.

  ‘What?’ he says, his jawbone tightening.

  ‘I’m married,’ I stutter.

  Fin’s face darkens. ‘So was I, remember?’

  I’m seized by the urge to run away, but I can’t go until we’ve spoken. Until everything is resolved. I don’t want to leave here until I know for sure that I will never have to see Fin Chambers again.

  ‘Shall I get us coffees?’ he asks, letting go of my arm.

  ‘Okay. I’ll find a table.’ I turn away from him abruptly and try to gather up my thoughts, to stop them scattering all over the place. First things first, I need to find an empty table. I pick my way through the diners, barely able to walk, clenching my fists to stop my hands shaking, the smells of lasagne and fish, coffee and warm bread mingling with the scent of old people’s talcum-powder and perfume.

  ‘You can sit here, love. We’re just leaving.’ A woman to my right gets to her feet. Her friend is pulling on her coat.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘Is it still cold out?’ the woman asks.

  ‘Freezing,’ I murmur.

  ‘We’ve been putting off leaving,’ her friend says. ‘Been sitting here since eleven thirty, haven’t we, Mary.’

  ‘We came for coffee, stayed for lunch, and persuaded ourselves to round off the day with afternoon tea.’ They laugh and I force a smile.

  ‘So, I suppose we better go and brave the arctic winds out there.’

  Normally, I’d be happy to join in with their friendly chat, but my mind is blank. All I can do is nod and inflict them with my rictus grin. Eventually, they leave and I slide into one of the empty chairs. The table is covered in crumbs, napkins, dirty cups and plates. My gaze drifts over to the queue where Fin still waits to be served. He’s not looking my way.

  A waitress comes to clear the table with a smile and a few pleasantries; another one comes along with a cloth to clean up the crumbs. They’re efficient, friendly. No wonder it’s busy in here. I wait, staring ahead through vast windows which look out onto the nursery – rows of plants and saplings waiting to find a home.

  ‘I got you a latte.’ Fin has returned. He sits opposite me and puts our drinks on the table.

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply. But I know I won’t be able to drink anything. His proximity has unleashed emotions I thought I’d buried.

  ‘You look good, Anna. Really good. How are you?’

  I stare at my coffee, unsure how to reply. I haven’t come here to sit through an eternity of small talk. There are things we need to get sorted once and for all. I place the palms of my hands on the damp table and look him in the eye, hoping my voice won’t betray my nerves.

  ‘I need to get on with my life, Fin. And you should get on with yours. This . . . all this is screwed up. I don’t want anything to do with it. Like I said, I just want to get on with my life.’

  ‘Nothing’s changed, Anna.’ His voice is soft and works its way through to the core of my body. But these feelings he’s stirring up are echoes of another time. They’re not real. I can’t afford to pay them any attention.

  ‘Everything has changed,’ I reply.

  ‘I still love you,’ he says rubbing at his cheek. ‘And you know you have to do this.’

  Is he giving me a choice, or is he threatening me? I can’t tell. ‘You don’t get it, Fin. It’s over. And you can’t still love me – you don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve changed. I’m not the naïve little girl I was back then. God, we haven’t seen each other in years. Haven’t even been in contact. We can’t just meet up out of the blue and carry on like nothing’s changed. I have a life with–’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ Fin leans forward. ‘This was what we agreed – not to see each other. This was our plan. You can’t just–’

  ‘No!’ I lower my voice and carry on. ‘This was what you agreed, Fin. This was your plan. Never mine. I never thought you would–’

  ‘You can’t turn this all onto me, Anna. It was for both of us.’ He blinks furiously. ‘This can’t be happening. Do you realise what I’ve just done for you.’

  ‘Don’t say that. You didn’t do it for me.’ I think about the text and the news report. Bile rises in my throat. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t see you again. I thought, after I left back then, that would be the end of it.’

  ‘The end? It was just the beginning. It was the start of everything.’

  I shake my head and try to calm my breathing. ‘No. It wasn’t. Whatever you’ve done, Fin. This has to be the end of it.’

  ‘Do you love him?’ he asks, pressing his fist against his mouth.

  I bow my head, scared to look him in the eye.

  ‘I kept my side of the bargain,’ he says. ‘We have something incredible. We always have. I can still feel it and I know you do, too. We love each other, Anna. You can’t bail on me now. You can’t.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Fin. It’s over.’ I say the words, ignoring the deep pull of attraction. ‘Whatever we had . . . it’s been over for a long time. I thought I made that clear.’ I grip the edge of the table, scrape my chair back and rise to my feet, desperate to get away from him. From the danger that surrounds him.

  Fin rises too, comes around to my side of the table and grabs my upper arm. He’s close enough that no one would be able to see anything amiss.

  ‘You’re not going,’ he hisses. ‘Not without promising me that you’ll do it. That you’ll keep to our agreement.’

  ‘Let go, Fin,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘There is no agreement. There never was. And if you did something you shouldn’t have, it’s nothing to do with me. You’re delusional. You need help. Seriously.’

  ‘Bitch,’ he mutters, squeezing my arm so hard I give a muffled whimper. But I hold his gaze, glaring at him until he lets go. At this point, I don’t know or ca
re if anyone in the noisy café has seen or heard our exchange.

  ‘I mean it, Fin. Leave me alone.’ I need to get out of here. I’m barely able to see in front of my face, my eyes are filling with tears and I desperately try to blink them away before they fall. Before I go, I stammer out a final warning. ‘Contact me again and I’ll call the police. In fact, I should–’

  ‘You’re just as much a part of this as I am,’ he murmurs. ‘You tell anyone and I’ll make sure they know you’re just as involved as me.’

  He’s not bluffing.

  ‘Oh, and Anna.’

  I should leave right now, not listen to any more of his crap, but instead, I push my fingertips down on the table to steady myself and look up at him once more. His eyes have lost their anger, his face suddenly blank. ‘If you don’t go through with it,’ he says quietly, ‘then I promise you I’ll do it. I’ll give you a month. One month.’ He gives me a last, piercing look, then turns and walks away.

  I can’t speak. Can’t respond to his outrageous threat. I watch his back as he leaves. I should go after him, tell him to listen to me, to leave me alone. Make him see sense. But I’m not strong enough to speak to him again. Instead, I let him leave. Stupid of me. Stupid. Stupid.

  An elderly couple have appeared, hovering at my table. I straighten up, gesture to them to take it and begin making my way towards the exit, threading my way through the tables and chairs, past the happy pensioners drinking tea and eating cake, oblivious to the fact that my life is disintegrating.

  A hand taps me on the shoulder, making me jump. I stop in my tracks and swing around to see a young, perfectly made-up woman with shiny hair. She’s vaguely familiar. Then it comes to me – she’s the receptionist from the tennis club. What’s her name again? I can’t remember. I really don’t want to speak to her. I’m not in any fit state to speak to anyone. I’m on the verge of breaking down. I square my shoulders and fight back the urge to sob.

  ‘I saw you sitting over there,’ she says, ‘and I thought it was you. How are you, Anna? Haven’t seen you at the club for a while.’

  ‘No, I’ve, er, I’ve been a bit busy.’

  ‘My mum and dad live here. I’ve brought them out for coffee and cake.’

  ‘Lovely.’ I force a smile. Please, God, don’t let me cry. I can tell she’s waiting for me to tell her what I’m doing here. To tell her about the man I was with. I wonder how much of our exchange she witnessed. Did she see the aborted kiss when we met? The intense conversation? The argument at the end? Shit. We should have met somewhere more private. Too late now. I bet she’s going to say something – if not to Will, then to someone else. The gossip will fly round the club and everyone will be speculating whether or not I’m having an affair. I’ll have to tell Will something before it gets back to him. Mandy! That’s her name.

  ‘Sorry, Mandy, I’d better dash. I don’t want to get caught up in the rush-hour traffic.’

  ‘Sure, of course. Hope to see you and Will at the club soon.’

  ‘Yes, definitely.’ I smile again and have uncharitable thoughts about how she must be loving this. But, I don’t know that for sure. Maybe she’s a sweet girl and gossip is the furthest thing from her mind.

  I leave the café and walk back through the gift shop, the bright, piped music jarring with my thoughts. Out through the double doors into the arctic wind, I battle my way across the car park. Fin could be out here, sitting in his car watching me. He’s clearly insane. I shiver and keep my gaze focused straight ahead. Finally, I reach my car, open the door and climb into the driver’s seat. My whole body trembles. I can’t think straight. I want to rest my head on the steering wheel, but if Fin’s watching . . . I can’t let him see how much he’s unnerved me. I don’t want him to see me at all. I shudder. I have to get out of here. I switch on the engine and the lights. I leave the car park and head for home, my mind and body numb.

  Driving in a daze, I barely register the route, the traffic, any part of the journey, my mind swimming with this afternoon’s events. I can’t pretend this isn’t happening. I have to do something to stop it. But what? I never imagined I’d ever be lucky enough to meet someone like Will. Someone I feel so comfortable with. Someone who never makes me feel anxious and on edge. I realise now, looking back, that was how Fin used to make me feel – like I was standing on the edge of a precipice, constantly worrying about how he would react to everything. It wasn’t a healthy relationship.

  But now . . . What happens now? This is the life I want to keep. I can’t give it all up because of someone else’s desires. Someone else’s twisted plan.

  As I hit the lanes and crossroads of Dorset’s small towns and villages, I become hopelessly snarled up in rush-hour traffic. I turn on the radio to try to drown out my thoughts, but nothing can stop the avalanche of fear trying to smother me.

  It takes almost two hour to get home. Finally, pulling into our driveway, momentary relief hits as the electric gates whirr shut. Safe. For now.

  I stumble in through the front door and tense up as I hear Will’s voice in the kitchen. Who’s he talking to? I can’t cope with visitors. I wonder if Will will sense my betrayal. If he’ll know I’m keeping secrets. I put my hands to my cheeks, certain the truth is there for all to see. But then, I tell myself, I haven’t actually done anything wrong. All I did was meet up with an ex-boyfriend to tell him to leave me alone. I take off my coat and head towards the kitchen. There’s no one else here – Will is in front of the bay window, on his hands and knees, playing with Bo.

  Bo charges over to me and jumps up, his needle claws sinking into my jeans. I scoop him up and kiss the top of his silky head, trying to keep hold of his tiny, wriggling body, dark thoughts momentarily receding.

  ‘Oh yes, you’re a good boy, yes you are, yes you are.’

  Will joins us and we both start talking in silly voices to Bo who’s lapping it all up, enjoying the attention.

  ‘Have a good afternoon?’ Will asks, competing with Bo to try to land a kiss on my lips.

  I put Bo down on the floor and kiss my husband properly before stretching my arms above my head, trying to work out the kinks in my neck after such a tense drive home.

  ‘It was okay,’ I reply. ‘Traffic was terrible though. I went to a garden centre.’ I hadn’t been planning on telling Will where I’d been, but since I bumped into Mandy, I couldn’t take the chance of him finding out.

  ‘I thought you were going shopping, as in clothes shopping.’ Will raises an eyebrow. ‘A garden centre?’ He sits opposite me and looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

  ‘I know right. Getting all domesticated in my old age. No, I just wanted to get some ideas for some pots out the front. It’s a bit sparse out there. Thought it could do with some colour.’

  ‘Ok-ay. So what did you get?’

  ‘Nothing.’ I fake a laugh. ‘I couldn’t decide. There were so many choices. I think I might need some help choosing. Maybe we could go together sometime?’

  ‘Yeah, sure. And then, maybe after that, we could go Zimmer-frame shopping.’

  I throw a cushion at his head which he manages to dodge. ‘Mock all you like, Blackwell, but flowers are proven to lift spirits and nature is good for the soul.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’m just teasing.’ He raises his hands in surrender.

  ‘Oh, and weirdly, I managed to bump into two people I know.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Mandy from the tennis club.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know . . . Mandy on reception. The one with all the make-up.’

  ‘Oh. Oh yeah, I know. I wouldn’t have put her down as a garden-centre person either.’

  ‘She was with her mum and dad. They live nearby.’

  ‘And who was the other person?’

  I bend forward to stroke Bo, trying to hide my flaming cheeks. ‘Someone I used to work with at Charwood.’

  ‘The leisure centre, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Haven’t seen him in years, so we had a quick
cuppa and a catch-up.’

  ‘Anyone I know?’

  ‘Don’t think so.’

  ‘Well, I’ve only got an hour before work. Anything you want to do?’

  I release a sigh of relief before crossing the room and snuggling up to him. ‘No. Let’s just chill for a bit.’

  Will pulls me close and I try to slow my beating heart. Hopefully, I’ve covered my tracks. If Mandy does decide to gossip, at least I’ve already told Will who I was talking to. But this lie, it’s chipping away at what we have together. It’s making us less real somehow. Less pure. And I know things aren’t about to get any better.

  Chapter Fifteen

  January 2014

  As my eyes snapped open, the events of yesterday came rushing in, a spring tide of unwelcome thoughts and emotions. I closed my eyes again, wishing sleep would take me back to oblivion, but no such luck. My hands rested on my flat stomach. I couldn’t believe there was a little human in there. A mixture of me and Fin. It was . . . strange. I took a deep breath and sat up. Sian’s bed was empty, a scribbled note resting on her crumpled quilt:

  Had to go to work. Didn’t want to wake you. Mum and Dad also at work.

  Hope you’re okay. Help yourself to breakfast. Spare key on hook. You can stay as long as you need. Text me if you like. See you later.

  S x

  I leant down and reached into my bag, pulling out my phone. I checked and saw that Fin had left me numerous messages – all worried and apologetic, telling me he wasn’t going in to work today. That he was at home waiting for me. That he wanted to sort things out. Suddenly I could breathe again as yesterday’s despair evaporated. As long as Fin was on my side, everything would be okay.

  I tapped out a quick text saying I was on my way. My next shift wasn’t until this afternoon, thank goodness. So I’d have time to get home and make up with Fin. As I got dressed and put Sian’s borrowed pyjamas in her wash basket, my stomach gurgled. But I had no time for breakfast. Fin was waiting at home for me. Hopefully, there would be no more mention of getting rid of our baby. Hopefully, we were about to plan the next stage of our lives together. With hope swelling in my chest, I grabbed my bag and left Sian’s without taking up her offer of the spare key. I wouldn’t need it now that Fin had apologised.