Perfect Wives

by Emma Hannigan

Annie had done a great job with the older three, but the more time she spent at home, the more Francine was beginning to believe that the childminder had been spoiling Cameron and letting him away with murder. If she was going to be with him full time, Francine would end this naughtiness quick smart. Besides, she mused, it wouldn’t help her budding friendship with Jodi if her son was behaving like a gurrier.

  Francine drove out of the school gate feeling a little lacklustre. Jodi wasn’t as friendly as she’d hoped. Maybe the notion of using the A-list star as a new diversion in life wasn’t going to work out as she’d hoped.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning Jodi had to wake Saul. As she opened the curtains in his room and gently shook him, she felt like bursting with joy. Since he had been tiny Saul had always woken around dawn – until today.

  ‘Good morning, beautiful boy,’ she whispered, as she kissed his cheek. ‘Looks like the Irish air has worked its magic on you!’

  ‘Mummy …’ Saul stretched and rolled over to go back to sleep.

  ‘The bad news is that you have to get up right now for school. But the good news is that you’re having your first ever play date later on today,’ she reminded him.

  That was all it took. It was like he’d been turbo-charged. Seconds later Saul was happily eating his breakfast and choking on a glass of milk.

  ‘Take it easy, dude,’ Jodi advised. ‘School doesn’t even open for another fifteen minutes, and Cameron can’t play with you if you’ve choked to death!’

  Saul’s milk spewed out of his nose as he burst out laughing. He lay on the floor on his back with his arms glued to his sides, letting his head flop to the side and his tongue hang out.

  Jodi giggled and nudged him gently with her foot. ‘Off the floor, little man. Why don’t you brush your teeth and I’ll get your snack ready to put into your school bag?’ she said, swatting him as he skipped past.

  The phone rang and Saul gave a shout of delight. He snatched it up. ‘Hello, who’s speaking, please?’ he asked, looking deadly serious. ‘Daddy!’

  Jodi smiled and leaned against the door as she watched her son have a quick chat with his father.

  ‘I gotta run too, Dad. I’m very busy, you know,’ Saul said. ‘Here’s Mum.’

  ‘Hi, Darius, how are things going on set?’ Jodi fixed Saul’s school bag on his back.

  ‘It’s good to hear a familiar voice. Work is good but the other isn’t so great,’ he said cagily. ‘Did the magazine confirm the photo shoot for Friday week?’

  ‘They sure did. Look, try not to worry and I’ll see you next week,’ she said.

  ‘I have to go, sweetie,’ Darius said. ‘I only called to hear your voice for a minute. I’m being called to Makeup. Today’s going to be a long one. Give our boy a hug from me. Love you.’

  ‘Love you too and try not to worry about the other thing. Call me if you need me, yeah?’ Jodi hung up.

  As they walked towards school Saul was quiet. Eventually he asked, ‘Who’s being mean to Daddy?’

  ‘Nobody. Why?’ Jodi kept her voice and face even. Her heart was thumping and she hoped she was hiding her alarm.

  ‘Well, why were you telling him not to worry? Is he ill?’

  ‘Oh, no, darling. He’s just sad because we’re here and he’s on set away from us. That’s all,’ she lied.

  ‘Poor Daddy. Maybe the director will let him come and stay with us for a big bit. We could tell him Daddy’s on the verge of being burned-out,’ Saul mused.

  Jodi giggled. ‘You, my boy, have spent far too long around sets and melodramatic movie stars. It makes me more certain than ever that we’ve done the right thing by moving here.’

  Just like the previous morning, the school was buzzing with parents and children dodging past one another. The atmosphere was cheerful and Saul clearly couldn’t wait to get inside.

  ‘Good morning, Saul,’ Mr Matthews said. ‘Have you a high five for me?’

  ‘Sure do,’ Saul said, jumping to slap hands with the teacher.

  ‘Hey,’ Jodi greeted him.

  ‘How’s it going? Is Saul settling in okay?’

  ‘He’s really happy so far. He couldn’t wait to get here today.’

  ‘That’s a good sign. It’d be a bad reflection on me if he was clinging to the outside of the gate and yelling obscenities!’

  Jodi laughed. ‘There’s still plenty of time for that, I suppose. Don’t count your chickens!’

  ‘Believe me, I won’t. I know only too well that I’m in a precarious position here. Not only am I a blow-in British person, but I’m male. I saw more than one second glance yesterday when the parents arrived. I don’t exactly look or sound like cuddly Miss Myrtle!’

  ‘Ah, you get used to those double takes,’ Jodi said.

  Mr Matthews studied her for a second. ‘Once the children are happy and they like me, I hope to win the parents over bit by bit.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ Jodi said, before bending down to hug Saul goodbye.

  ‘There you are! Isn’t it a glorious morning?’

  Jodi stood up to find Francine smiling in front of her.

  ‘Today still okay for you?’ Francine went on eagerly.

  ‘Yes, totally. We’re really looking forward to our first play date,’ Jodi said, with a smile. ‘See you here at pick-up time as planned.’

  ‘You’re a dote. See you at twelve bells! Better run – I’ve three others to check on in various classrooms,’ Francine said, rolling her eyes. Before she could move, Jodi found herself being grabbed by the shoulders and air-kissed on each side of her face with the speed of a woodpecker.

  ‘Toodle-oo, Cameron!’ Francine called, as she fled the scene.

  As Mr Matthews began shepherding children to their seats, Jodi dodged past the congregation at the classroom door.

  Francine seemed really nice, but Jodi was utterly terrified of her. She’d never been able to deal with seriously outgoing people like that. Up until now it hadn’t been an issue. Darius was always happy to be the chatty, sociable one when they were out. Otherwise she could be quiet on set and people respected that. She’d use her scripts as a buffer or say she was keeping her mind on the role. Besides, most people were kind of star-struck when they met her, so she didn’t need to make any sort of lasting impression.

  When they’d moved here, she’d stupidly assumed the remote setting would afford her anonymity. She was starting to realise the exact opposite was on the cards.

  Realising she’d better have some food ready for her guests, Jodi grabbed the key of her Mini as soon as she got back to the cottage and drove to the village.

  The last time she’d pootled along the quaint street to view the shabby pre-makeover cottage, it had been like a ghost town. This morning it was a real hive of activity as most of the mothers from a five-mile radius seemed to have descended on the coffee shop and surrounding stores.

  The Spar supermarket was one of those massive modern ones, which looked like it would have all the supplies she needed. Finding a space easily, due to the size of the Mini, Jodi sauntered inside and grabbed a trolley. She turned away as she passed the impressive display of papers and magazines. She’d stopped reading them many years previously. Noelle had warned her against leaving herself open to hurtful photos and comments. ‘The journalists will stop at nothing when they’re looking for a story. If the real version isn’t juicy enough they embellish it,’ she explained. ‘You’ll do yourself the best favour of all if you just avoid them.’ After she’d sobbed over a pack of lies they’d written about her and Tommy some years back, she’d taken Noelle’s advice.

  As she made her way up and down the aisles, Jodi was astonished by the variety of products. She’d no idea what she should be serving Francine for lunch so she did her usual and stuck with prepared food. That way there was less chance of her poisoning her first guest. A quiche, some tubs of salad and fresh bread seemed like a good plan. Knowing Saul would stick his tongue out and make vomiting noises at it, she found a p
izza for the boys. Unlike herself at the same age, Saul had a highly trained palate. Jodi wasn’t often extravagant, but her lack of culinary skills had led her to employ a chef when they weren’t on set.

  ‘If you’re ever stuck,’ he had said, ‘buy a frozen pizza and add your own fresh cheese and salami to it.’

  Now she added a chunk of Cheddar and a packet of sliced peppery salami to her trolley, and hoped for the best. Then she thought of drinks and dumped a jar of instant coffee and a box of teabags in too. She reckoned Francine mightn’t be on board for drinking her herbal infusion. A chocolate cake in a box near the till looked as if it might be home made so she took that as well. If she put it on a plate, maybe Francine would believe she’d baked it in the Aga.

  She began to unload her items at the checkout. The dark-haired girl at the till looked as if she was going to lose her mind. ‘You’re Jodi Ludlum,’ she stated.

  ‘Yes,’ Jodi said, with a smile.

  ‘I feel like I’m going to vomit,’ the girl said.

  ‘Is that a good or bad thing?’ Jodi asked. She instantly liked the assistant. Unlike some people she’d encountered, she didn’t make her nervous.

  ‘It’s all good,’ the girl said, still looking green. ‘I’ve never met anyone famous before. You look exactly the same as your pictures in the magazines.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jodi said.

  The girl stood motionless and made no attempt to ring in any of the groceries. The items began to pile up in the small area so Jodi had to stop and wait. ‘Are you okay?’ Jodi ventured.

  ‘No. I feel like I’ve taken a dodgy acid tab,’ the girl said. ‘I heard some of the gossipy mothers from the school saying you’d moved in and all that but I never expected you to come in here. Like, I mean, Jodi Ludlum in Spar!’

  ‘Mad as it might sound, I eat and drink just like a real doll,’ Jodi said, blinking with an exaggerated vacant look on her face.

  ‘Sorry.’ The girl grinned. ‘I’m Gillian by the way.’

  ‘Good to meet you, Gillian. Have you lived around here for long?’ Jodi asked.

  ‘I’m from Dublin originally. It’s the usual story. I met a fella who couldn’t afford to live near the city so we moved here.’

  ‘How do you find it after living in a city?’ Jodi asked, with genuine interest as Gillian finally began to check her stuff through.

  ‘Ah, it can be a bit Valley of the Squinting Windows, you know. Lots of biddies who have feck all else to do but poke their noses into other people’s business.’ She snorted. ‘But you find that sort everywhere, really, don’t you?’

  ‘Certainly do!’ Jodi agreed emphatically. ‘I have to say I’ve found people really friendly so far.’

  ‘Of course you bleedin’ have.’ Gillian laughed. ‘You’re Jodi Ludlum! What did you think? That people would be horrible to you? I’d say you’ll be invited to enough coffee mornings now to keep you going until you’re fifty. They’ll all want a piece of you!’

  Jodi grinned as she shoved her groceries into the plastic bags Gillian handed her.

  ‘I’m meant to charge you for the plastic bags but I won’t bother,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks,’ Jodi said. ‘Well, it’s great to meet you, Gillian. No doubt we’ll be seeing one another a lot more. I’ve to go and get ready for my son’s first play date! He’s really excited.’

  ‘Cool! Who’s coming to visit?’ she asked.

  ‘Francine and Cameron. Do you know them?’

  ‘Know them? Francine is Mrs Bakers Valley. Working mum, millions of kids, perfect house, ideal husband, and does it all with a flawless smile. Think Career Barbie meets Stepford Wife and you’ve got Francine Hennessy.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Jodi said, feeling sick.

  ‘Ah, she’s not a bad auld skin, Francine, but she’ll probably run her finger over your sideboard and look for dust. Don’t be insulted if she offers to do meals on wheels for you and your son after you serve her shop-bought fare today either.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Jodi said biting her lip. ‘I’d burn water. I’m such an appalling cook and firmly believe everything tastes better with ketchup.’

  ‘Ah, you’re gonzoed so. Enjoy,’ Gillian said. ‘Do you want a hand out to your car with the bags?’

  ‘I’ll be fine, thanks.’

  ‘Can I take a picture of you to put on me Facebook page?’ Gillian said. ‘Or is that really uncool?’

  ‘Go on, then.’ Jodi smiled.

  She was still smiling as she let herself back into the cottage. There was very little she could do about her culinary skills between now and lunchtime, so Francine was going to have to take her as she found her.

  All the same, she still felt nervous. An image of her mother flashed into her mind. You’re nothing but a useless waste of space, Jodi. My life was fine until you came along.

  Even though it was years since her mother had died, Jodi still carried the scars of her childhood. To the world she was a superstar, but in her own head, just below the carefully guarded surface, she was still ‘Gyppo Jodi’, the awful name the children at her school had used to taunt her. ‘Your ma’s an alco and a druggy. You get bottles of beer for your birthday, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, you go on play dates to the pub!’

  ‘Bernadette Ludlum’s poor little sprog.’ That was what the men at the bar had called her.

  Back then there had been nothing Jodi could say in response. The only person who had shown her love was Nana. Bernadette allowed her mother to take Jodi each Sunday and Jodi lived for those days when she’d have a hot meal and feel secure, even if it only lasted a few hours.

  But Jodi Ludlum was different now. Bakers Valley was light years from Dayfield, the drugs-ridden council estate where she’d grown up. Francine might be akin to Nigella Lawson when it came to catering, but Jodi wasn’t going to allow herself slip into that mindset where she felt unworthy.

  Francine didn’t know her secrets and, as far as Jodi was concerned, she never would. All she had to do was keep herself to herself and things would be just fine.

  Back at the cottage, Jodi set the table with the pretty blue and white tableware the interior designer had bought. No wonder the bill for furnishings had been so high. The woman had thought of everything. She took a cake plate from a high cupboard, then looked around her stunning home with pride. She’d come a long way. Nobody ever needed to know she’d clawed her way to the top.

  Chapter 6

  At home, Francine was pacing the carpet. She didn’t know what to make of Jodi Ludlum. She’d stupidly pinned her hopes on finding a new best friend and a fresh source of entertainment rolled into one. This morning she’d done her best to be friendly and upbeat, but the other woman hadn’t really reciprocated. In fact, she’d made it pretty clear she was only having Cameron over to appease Saul.

  Still, Francine felt it was worth making an effort all the same so she’d headed directly for the hairdresser’s in Dublin. She wasn’t taking a chance going to Patsy above the chemist in the village. Everyone from here to Pakistan would know where she was going if she did that.

  Operation Jodi Ludlum had to be played out to perfection. Francine was feeling enough of a failure at the moment: she couldn’t run the risk of all the folk in Bakers Valley knowing she’d been at Jodi’s today, only to be shunned tomorrow. Jodi was very guarded and Francine wasn’t sure how to take her. Such uncertainty was new to her and she didn’t like it. Until this point, Francine had been a team leader who had always been comfortable in her own skin.

  With her hair blow-dried to a glossy shine, Francine rushed to a trendy florist to pick up a stylish arrangement. ‘It’s for a friend,’ Francine said, as she handed the sculpted piece to the girl at the cash desk.

  ‘That’s a lovely twist on the usual bouquet, isn’t it?’ the assistant remarked.

  ‘It’s for Jodi Ludlum. I reckon she’ll appreciate it,’ Francine said.

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Yes. We’re friends,’ Francine added, for good me
asure.

  ‘That’s pretty cool. What’s she like?’

  ‘Oh, she’s gorgeous when you get to know her,’ Francine gushed. ‘Very private, though.’

  ‘Right.’ The girl looked wildly impressed. ‘Well, give her my best. Tell her I love her movies, won’t you?’

  Francine promised she would and tried not to balk at the eighty-euro price tag for the flowers. If she hadn’t started this show-off conversation she could’ve said she wouldn’t dream of paying that for some skew-ways feathers and a bird-of-paradise shoved into glittery oasis.

  ‘Bye now,’ Francine said, and felt some of her confidence seep back.

  In Bakers Valley again, she stopped off at home to change her clothes. Her navy D&G cotton skirt, with a striped, nautical-style top and simple espadrilles, seemed an apt choice. Not too fussy, with a nod towards elegant chic. It was a typically Irish September day – the sun had come out and there was barely a cloud in the sky.

  Applying a slick of lip gloss, Francine surveyed herself in the full-length mirror in her dressing room. She’d never deviated from a size ten except when she was pregnant. Even then, she’d never allowed herself to put on more than two stone. Within eight weeks of giving birth each time, she was back to her usual weight. ‘If I don’t walk this flab off immediately it’ll settle and stay,’ she’d said to Carl.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, love. It’ll happen in good time. I know lots of other women who haven’t lost the weight after one baby, never mind four,’ Carl had said, after Cameron’s birth.

  ‘Carl, I’m not other women. I don’t give two hoots what everyone else deems normal. I’ll be back in my usual clothes by the time Cameron is eight weeks.’

  And she was.

  Her look was timeless rather than up to the minute. She believed in buying quality, not quantity.

  ‘Never buy cheap tailoring or jewellery,’ she had told Cara, from the time she was old enough to comprehend. ‘The cut of a well-made suit can never be copied. The look of a decent white-gold necklace can never be bettered by a tin counterpart. Buy cheaply and you’ll buy twice.’