The Actuary's Wife

by K T Bowes

  Nicky battled with the door handle and turned back to her as he squeezed through the gap. “Anyway, it’s not Sam. It’s Mr Arden to me.” The door closed behind him with a click.

  “Bloody hell!” Emma groaned and laid her head back on her forearms.

  Chapter 17

  “What are you saying?” Mr Dalton paled, the colour draining like a chemical reaction. He reached behind him for his chair and pulled it nearer so his bottom sank into its folds with relief. “Explain again.”

  “It won’t help,” Emma sighed. “I’ve been over and over it and the school is 155 years old. The Church of England built it in 1860. The bell was added five years later and if I could get up there, I might find another inscription relating to its dedication. We don’t have all the photos from that time but a very faded print of the building dated 1865 doesn’t show the bell or its housing. It wasn’t there.”

  “It has to be a mistake!” Mr Dalton balled his fists and his colour returned. “The bell was mended four years ago and it definitely said 1865 on it.” He glared at Emma and she felt pity for him as he postured and tossed his head in an attempt to regain control of the situation. “The celebrations are booked! Past pupils are flying in from overseas. The committee’s been working on this for years!” His eyes bulged and Emma winced, anticipating a medical emergency. “We can’t call it off now. Who’d know if we put away this damn plaque and pretended it didn’t exist?” His eyes glinted with a peculiar diamond hardness as he contemplated the unthinkable.

  “I’d know!” Emma let him hear the shock in her voice. “And I’ve taken digital scans of everything I’ve uncovered so far.” Except the plaque, she reminded herself. “Do it right, or don’t do it at all.” She pursed her lips and hoped he didn’t ask to see the plaque. Sam called in sick and Emma squashed the urge to give him hospital-worthy sickness of the kick in the nuts variety. A feeling in the pit of her stomach told her the plaque was in danger.

  Mr Dalton’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma said. “A parent doing this mightn’t have dug so deep into the history. They’d slap a few pictures on a display board and watch everyone spill coffee over the originals. But that’s not what you employed me for, is it? The remit you gave me from the Board of Governors was; to fully investigate, catalogue and digitise your archives, storing them in such a way as to ensure longevity for the generations to come.” Emma quoted straight from her mandate, written as a wordy and noble nod to history which would now damn and derail their plans. “That’s what I’m doing,” Emma said. “I’m preserving your history for future generations. If you want me to stop, I will. It can all go back into the attic and be forgotten for another 145 years. But the next person who looks through it will end up right back where I am.”

  “I feel sick.” Mr Dalton put his head on his forearms and took a few steadying swallows. He popped his head up and looked expectantly at Emma. “I’ll call an extraordinary meeting of the Board and celebration committee members. You can come along and talk to them and explain what’s happened.”

  Emma stood up and shook her head. “No thanks. I’m happy to write a timeline and give you a statement of what I found, but it’s best if I’m not there when you make your decision. At some point after the 1884 school photo was taken, someone removed the plaque from the wall and hid it. The 100th anniversary subsequently occurred five years too late, which is probably why everyone assumed this year should be the 150th. I believe in the truth and I can’t work with anything less. Let me know what the board says.” She stood and left the room, closing the door behind her and leaving the headmaster to his devastation.

  Emma dropped the timeline and supporting documents on the desk of the new school secretary an hour later, smiled and left. Outside the school gate she paused, contemplating the bus ride home only to repeat it an hour later to fetch Nicky. On a whim, Emma turned left and walked through the park, enjoying the kiss of the watery sunshine on her face. The journey west took ten minutes and Emma felt the day’s stress losing its hold on her.

  On Newcombe Street she paused, hoping Allaine didn’t mind having her afternoon gate crashed. The street felt familiar and Emma looked wistfully towards Rohan’s house at the other end, remembering her arrival in the market town as his guest a few months ago. She paused at Allaine’s front gate, curiosity getting the better of her. In a few short minutes, Emma had ducked down a lane between two houses and walked behind the row. Long gardens stretched out towards the lane and Emma’s footsteps shortened as she realised the futility of her mission. Only the upstairs windows were visible, too far away to allow her to snoop. She didn’t bother walking towards the back gate of Rohan’s house, turning on her heel and dragging her feet back up the lane to the street. She skirted the puddles and kicked at loose stones, pondering her spoiled relationship with a heavy heart.

  Emma hopped around on Allaine’s front porch before ringing the doorbell. Her boots were filthy and she slipped them off, struggling with the left one. The sound of a baby crying drew Emma’s attention and she stood up in her socks and peered up the street. A redhead stepped onto the pavement and Emma recognised the click of Rohan’s gate as it closed behind her. The baby had white blonde hair and kicked legs clad in a blue sleep suit; his cry pitiful. Emma watched as he screwed up his little face into a grimace and rubbed his eyes, the relationship to Nicky overpowering. Her breath caught in her chest as Rohan strode down the path, unlocking the dark Mercedes as he let the gate close behind him.

  Emma inhaled like a balloon on a fill setting, unable to release. She heard the moan issue from her lips and felt the world shift on its axis as her pulse rate increased. The redhead slipped into the back of the Mercedes and closed the door as Rohan started the engine, nosing the vehicle from between parked cars. Emma’s gasp exhaled in a whoosh of misery and she pressed a hand to her mouth as the expensive car slid past, still sporting the brick’s ugly dent in the passenger door. Rohan glanced up once as Emma galvanised herself and turned, hammering on Allaine’s door with her fists. She saw the dismay in his face and screamed for her friend. “Allie, help me,” she sobbed without dignity. “Allie, please!”

  The sound of screeching brakes filled the street as the door opened inwards and Emma tumbled into her friend’s arms. “Close the door,” Emma howled. “Close the door! Don’t let him in, please.”

  Allaine slammed the front door as Rohan shouted, his voice carrying through the glass panel. “Emma, please. Listen, dorogaya. Let me in!”

  Emma’s complexion was white with shock and she slid down the wall in agony as Allaine stared from her prone body to the front door. Rohan knocked on the glass, his voice sounding panicked and full of distress. “Emma, talk to me.”

  “No!” Emma’s friend defended her with loyalty and defiance. “Go away, Rohan. She clearly doesn’t want to see you. Get off my property or I’ll call the police!” Allaine swished the door curtain across the glass and threw herself on the ground next to Emma. “Sweetheart, what’s happened? What did he do?”

  Emma couldn’t talk. Her voice was strangled by the sobs which wrung from her chest until she felt she couldn’t breathe. The sound of a vehicle honking its horn at Rohan’s abandoned Mercedes drew him away from Allaine’s front door and she heaved a sigh of relief. “Shall I get Will?” she asked. “Is Rohan violent?” She didn’t seem reassured by her guest’s shake of the head. “Emma, you’re scaring me,” Allaine said, feeling the intensity of Emma’s hold on her arms. “How can I help you?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Emma repeated, over and over again. She clutched her upper abdomen and groaned. “It hurts so much. I can’t bear it.”

  “I’m calling Will.” Allaine stood up.

  “No,” Emma moaned. “You don’t understand.” She pushed herself sideways and lay on the beech parquet floor, her face white and her shoulders heaving, tears dripping off the end of her nose. “I think I’m gonna be sick.” The hand clamped over h
er mouth prevented the immediate action but as Allaine ran back with her washing up bowl, the sight of food stains and a piece of chunked up carrot stuck to the side were enough to seal the deal. Having eaten nothing, Emma threw up a cup of tea and a glass of water, Allaine rubbing her back with tender fingers.

  “There’s nothing left now,” she said eventually, taking the bowl away and washing Emma’s hot face with a wet tea towel. “Come outside and get some fresh air. We’ll sit on the bench and I’ll fetch you a drink of water.”

  Emma’s body trembled with involuntary spasms and she moved like an elderly woman. Allaine steadied her as they walked through the house and emerged from the back door like two octogenarians out for a stroll. “Sit here,” Allaine said with authority, tucking Emma’s coat around her knees. “It’s freezing but take deep breaths and it’ll help. I won’t be long.” She returned with a strange purple looking mixture fizzing in warm water. Emma pulled a face.

  “What’s that?”

  “Rehydration powders. You can take them while you’re pregnant, I checked. Kaylee had a dreadful bout of the squirts a few months ago and I had packets left.”

  Emma took a sip and tasted blackcurrant. She swallowed and struggled to hold the liquid in her stomach.

  “Keep going slowly,” Allaine urged. “You’ve clearly eaten nothing today and not drunk enough. It’s after lunchtime, Emma. You need to take better care of yourself for the baby’s sake.” She looked at her friend with maternal concern and stroked her forearm through the coat material. “Now tell me what happened earlier?”

  Emma lurched through her sad tale, beginning with Christopher’s bombshell about Rohan arriving in town but staying away, to the little family emerging from Rohan’s house further up the street. Allaine knitted her brows. “So, you think he’s got another family holed up at his place?”

  Emma nodded and took another sip of the drink. “The baby was identical to Nicky; white blonde hair and facial features. He even grizzled like Nicky used to. Rohan put them in the car and drove off and they’re the reason he stayed in town before coming home.”

  “So, how old did the baby look?” Allaine asked. “Maybe Rohan was involved with this other woman before you came on the scene and chose to stay with you after she discovered she was pregnant.”

  “The baby looked about a year old,” Emma sighed. “I only arrived four months ago. Rohan told me there was never anyone else, which means he lied.”

  “Will charged a guy with bigamy the other day,” Allaine said conversationally. “He lived two completely separate lives in different houses. There were four children in one and two in another. They literally lived within a couple of miles of each other. He only got caught out because a teacher moved from the school at the top end of town to that new school over near the industrial estate and he turned up for parents’ evening with a different family. She asked him about his son and the wife looked stunned. After that it detonated like a bomb and the wife went to the police. Will said he wouldn’t have the energy; the poor guy looked knackered and said he was pleased to be caught. Crazy hey?” Allaine looked sideways at Emma’s devastation and bit her lip. “Sorry, Em. I’m sorry. That was really unhelpful.” She put her arms around her friend as Emma dissolved into tears again.

  “What will you do?” Allaine asked later as the women sat in the kitchen. Emma pushed a biscuit round a plate in rigid, triangular motions and frowned.

  “Buy a car.”

  Allaine blinked and put her hand over Emma’s to stop the irritating movement. “Eat it, Emma. If not for you, then do it for your baby.” She watched as Emma took the smallest bite and chewed. “I meant long term. What will you do? Although I suppose you do need a car now, but that’s fine. You hated Rohan’s anyway.”

  “Yeah.” Emma swallowed. “Where do people buy cars round here? I haven’t noticed any garages in town.”

  “There aren’t many. People go to Leicester or buy privately.”

  “I can’t risk private sales. I don’t know enough about cars and Leicester or Northampton are a bit out of the way unless I go car shopping on a bus which seems ridiculous.”

  “Will’s selling his Ford if you’re interested. It’s a year old but probably too expensive.”

  “The little SUV with the wheel on the back? Why’s he selling it?”

  Allaine smirked. “Everyone at the police station calls it ‘The Girly Car’ and he’s had enough. He wanted it because it’s higher than a saloon but they’ve done nothing but make fun of him for the past year.”

  “The red one?” Emma took another cautious bite. “I like it. I’ll buy it.”

  “Hang on, you haven’t even driven it!” Allaine laughed. “And Will bought it new so I’ve no idea what he wants for it.”

  “It can’t be worse than Rohan’s big car and I like the look of it. Ask him what he wants for it and I’ll buy it. I’ll have to get insurance sorted though. I drove Lucya’s old car in Wales and it crapped out on us just before she died. I was on her insurance so never had my own.”

  “Ouch, that’ll cost you,” Allaine mused. “And you’re under twenty five.”

  Emma shrugged. “Anton left me enough.”

  “And you’ve got your little job at the school.”

  “Yeah.” Emma rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

  Allaine looked worried. “You sound like someone whose world is unravelling before her eyes.”

  Emma bit her lip and swiped away another tear. “That’s how it feels. Text Will and ask him and I’ll sort it out as soon as possible.”

  Allaine fluffed around on her phone, sending a text to Will and watching Emma fight the biscuit. She pushed a glass of water towards her. “Drink that too. And I’ll be cross if I see you treating your body like that again. You must eat and drink properly when you’re pregnant; it’s irresponsible.”

  “Yes, Mum,” Emma replied and reluctantly took a sip of the water. “Allaine,” she said, the glass half way between her lips and the table, “When the baby comes, would you be its godmother?”

  Allaine blinked as her phone vibrated on the table. “Really? Me?”

  Emma nodded. “I know it seems a bit inappropriate now, but I really want to know there’s someone lovely there for my children if anything happens to me. You’ve proved yourself over and over and I can’t think of anyone better. Would you consider it?”

  Allaine shook her head and Emma’s shoulders drooped. “Of course I don’t have to think about it, idiot. Yes, I’d be honoured. Where would you have the christening?”

  “I don’t know. Your church?”

  Allaine pulled Emma into a firm hug and kissed her on the temple. “If you want. We don’t call it a christening and we don’t dunk or flick water. We pray over the children and call ourselves prayer-parents. Then the child decides when they’re older if they’d like to be baptised and we do full immersion. But I’ll go anywhere you want me to, it’s up to you.”

  “Your way sounds nice,” Emma sighed. “Poor Nicky didn’t even get one.”

  Allaine gave her a squeeze. “Christen them both at the same time.”

  “Can you do that?” Emma said and smiled for the first time since she arrived. “My dad was an Anglican vicar and wore robes and stuff. It always seemed very formal and a little false. He blessed baby after baby and then never saw them again. At least everyone at your church knows Nicky from the times he’s been with you and Will.”

  “They love him,” Allaine snorted. “He stands on his chair and plays air guitar during the singing. He’s hilarious!”

  Emma nodded and ran her hands over her stomach. Her lips turned upwards in a tiny smile. “The baby’s moving again; just little flutters but I can feel it. At least I have Rohan’s children, even if I don’t have him.” Emma pressed lightly on her stomach, connecting with her child. Allaine put her hand over the top.

  “Then promise me you’ll take better care of yourself? If you’ve made me godparent then I’ll make
it my business to tell you off when you don’t. I take my responsibilities very seriously!” She shot Emma a stern look and the other woman nodded.

  Allaine’s phone buzzed in a continuous frenzy on the table and she picked it up and winked at Emma. “It’s Will,” she said, standing. “Hi, love. Emma’s interested in your car.” She pulled a face and rolled her eyes at Emma. “Sorry, I didn’t see your text; we were chatting. Ok, I’ll ask her. Yes, I’ll ask her now.” Allaine turned to Emma and named the price he paid for the new vehicle a year ago and the price he’d accept. Emma nodded. Allaine went back to her call and grabbed a pen and paper from the side, scribbling frantically on it. “Ok, I’ll look it up now. Yes, I’m sure she’ll let you know soon.” Allaine ended the call and fired up her laptop. “He wants me to check the retail price of that make and model online for you.”

  “Why?” Emma shook her head. “I trust him.”

  “He doesn’t want you to feel ripped off, I guess. Look.” Allaine spun the screen around and Emma peered at the pictures of cars, scrolling through myriad prices and bits of information intended to help potential purchasers. Allaine pointed at a picture of a blue SUV like Will’s. “That’s the same make and model but it’s got less mileage on it. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go to a garage? I can drive you there tomorrow if you like.”

  “No, it’s fine. I want the red one and Will’s set a good price. But what will he do if I buy his?”

  “Give me my little car back hopefully!” Allaine snorted. “I’ve had this old ute for years, since before we sold the farm and Will joined the police. He’s running around in that instead to avoid embarrassment. I use his red one or walk and last time I drove Kaylee to Brownies, he complained I made it dirty and he had to wash it again for the advert photograph. I haven’t used it since.”

  “So it’s here?” Emma looked interested. “I didn’t see it on the street.”

  “It’s at the back. We don’t keep our cars on the road. We drive down the lane and in the gate at the bottom of the garden.”