Perfect Wives

by Emma Hannigan

  Carl arrived in the lift, looking a bit shaken. ‘It mightn’t be a good plan to use this fella too often,’ he said. ‘It shuddered to a halt for a minute. I jumped up and down and it got going again. But I wouldn’t fancy being stuck in there for too long.’

  ‘Have you got the keys?’ Francine asked, feeling more stressed by the second.

  ‘Certainly have. We’ve connecting doors so at least we can keep an eye on the children,’ Carl said. ‘Now, let’s see what the rooms are like.’

  The hotchpotch of clashing red-wine and moss-green patterns that greeted them was bad enough, but the musty smell of damp was vile. The connecting doors didn’t quite fit the description in so far as they didn’t exist. There was simply a space where two doors might have been once upon a time.

  ‘Well, in fairness the hotel did mention connecting rooms rather than doors,’ Carl said, with a good-natured grin. Francine went into the bathroom. The brown tiles, some of which were cracked, made the place look more like a cheap oven than the marble-encased luxury she’d been hoping for. Two sad-looking brown towels were the only nod towards the fluffy bathrobe and slippers she’d had in mind.

  The queen-sized bed sagged and already Francine could imagine waking with Carl’s elbow lodged in her neck.

  ‘Ooh!’ Cameron exclaimed, from the other bedroom. ‘We’ve got bunk beds!’

  Francine and Carl wandered into the adjoining room.

  ‘I’m the eldest so I get a top bunk.’ Cara threw her bag and iPod on to one.

  ‘I’m next so this one’s mine.’ Conor tossed his Nintendo on to the other.

  ‘I’m happy under here. It’s like a little house,’ Cameron said.

  ‘I don’t mind where I sleep,’ Craig said, and claimed the last bed.

  Francine found the children’s room utterly depressing. The old metal bunks were made up with random covers and shapeless pillows. Their bathroom was similar to the other, except for its avocado décor.

  Howie was having the best time. Sniffing like a demon, he cocked his leg against the double bed and prepared to pee.

  ‘No, Howie!’ Francine yelled.

  ‘It might improve the smell in here,’ Carl said, as a naughty grin crept across his face. ‘It’s kind of depressing, isn’t it?’

  ‘You can say that again,’ Francine said. ‘Still, the children don’t seem to mind. Let’s go and have a bit of brunch in the bar and investigate the swimming pool,’ she suggested.

  ‘You’re right. Even if it’s a bit shabby it won’t stop us having a lovely time. The views are magnificent!’ Carl joked.

  When she parted the grey net curtains Francine had a perfect view of the hotel skip, along with a pile of rusting tractor parts. ‘Ugh, bloody hell, Carl, look at that!’

  ‘Well, the deal didn’t actually state whether or not it included a sea view,’ he said wryly.

  ‘I don’t think I can handle staying here,’ Francine said. ‘I’m beginning to break out in a sweat. It’s really horrible.’

  He put his arms around her and rocked her back and forth. ‘It’s a total dump. Hand on heart, it’s all my fault. I might’ve known it was too good to be true, considering what we’ve paid for the break,’ he said. ‘But the kids are delighted. The dog is going to blow up, he’s having so much fun sniffing, and we’re away from the usual stresses and strains of life. Let’s just try and make the best of it, yeah?’ He tilted her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. ‘This is one of those situations we’ll laugh about in years to come.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to that,’ she said, ‘because right now all I’m doing is dreading the thought of lying on those god-awful lumpy pillows and avoiding getting a verruca in the bathroom.’

  ‘You’re not getting into the spirit of this at all!’ Carl laughed. ‘Sure a verruca never killed anyone. And we’ll appreciate Verbena Drive all the more when we get home.’

  ‘Come on, Mum and Dad, let’s go and explore,’ Conor said enthusiastically.

  ‘Who’s hungry?’ Carl asked, as he and Francine wandered into the children’s room.

  ‘Me,’ Cara said. ‘What’ll we do with Howie while we eat, though?’

  ‘Let’s see where he’s allowed to go and take it from there,’ Francine answered.

  ‘Can we bring our swimming gear now?’ Craig asked, as he unzipped the suitcase and began to throw all the clean clothes on to the grubby carpet.

  ‘Craig, don’t!’ Francine said. ‘I have the swimming things in a separate bag. Don’t leave your clothes on the carpet. It’s not overly clean. Here’s the swimming bag so let’s get out of here,’ she said.

  They all chose to take the stairs, nervous of the small tin box the hotel called a lift.

  Following the signs, they found the bar. It was hardly a hive of activity. In fact, the clientele was made up of an old geezer, accompanied by a grimy black and white Jack Russell tethered to the high stool with a piece of twine.

  ‘Good morning!’ Francine said. The man didn’t respond.

  The children were staring at him. He was well turned out in a three-piece tweed suit. He continued to stare ahead as if he was on another planet.

  ‘Hi, there. I’m Carl Hennessy.’ Carl held out his hand. Nothing.

  ‘Perhaps he’s deaf,’ Francine whispered.

  ‘Or he’s given up talking unless he feels like it,’ Carl said, out of the side of his mouth.

  They all jumped as the man lunged forward and banged his empty pint glass on the counter.

  A round woman, dressed in a nylon overall with far too much rouge on her cheeks, appeared, waving her little fat arms.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ she said, in pleased surprise. ‘I’m Mrs Clear, proprietor, cook and housekeeper all rolled into one!’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Clear. We’re the Hennessy family and we’ve come for a mini break,’ Francine said.

  Mrs Clear waddled around from the back of the bar and shook hands with each of them, asking their names. ‘All beginning with C, except for your good self, Francine,’ she pointed out happily.

  ‘Yes!’ Francine was thrilled that she had picked up on their initials quirk.

  ‘Can I get you people a bit of food or a drink?’

  ‘Both, please,’ Carl said.

  Another loud bang from the old man’s glass made them jump again.

  ‘Good man yourself, Podge,’ Mrs Clear said, patting him on the back. ‘I’ll sort you out with a fresh pint in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’ Turning back to the family with a warm smile, she continued, ‘What had you in mind? A cold snack, like a sandwich or a salad, or would you all eat a bit of a fry?’ She looked at her watch.

  ‘A fry would be a lovely treat, wouldn’t it, children?’ Francine asked.

  They all nodded and took a seat. The ancient pleather-covered couches were sticky and not too clean. The chairs were fit for the skip and the chipped dark-wood tables were mismatched and bockety.

  ‘I’ll bring a bowl of water and a few kibbles for your dog too,’ Mrs Clear said, as she waddled away. Howie seemed to find the presence of the Jack Russell calming. He lay on the floor facing the little dog and stared at him.

  ‘We could all end up with E. coli,’ Francine hissed to Carl.

  ‘This is very awkward, all right. If we can’t eat the food I think you’ll have to stuff it in your handbag.’

  ‘It’s Miu Miu, Carl, and not the size of a shopping trolley! Where do you suggest I stuff six cooked brunches?’ In spite of herself Francine began to giggle. Carl’s shoulders shook as he tried to muffle his laughter.

  As they were sizing up the kids’ pockets, Mrs Clear returned with a massive tray.

  ‘Now, I’ll give the children and the bowler theirs first. Mammy and Daddy’s are on the way.’ She chuckled.

  The full Irish breakfast looked stunning, with everything from scrambled eggs to fresh field mushrooms. When she returned with Francine and Carl’s, she also brought freshly baked brown bread, country butter and home-made jam.

>   ‘Enjoy that and you can have a chat about what you might like for your dinner. I don’t do menus,’ she explained. ‘I’d rather cook what’s in season. I’ve a lovely rabbit if you’re that way inclined but I can’t recommend the goose enough.’

  The children gasped.

  ‘Is it a real goose?’ Cameron asked.

  ‘Certainly is.’ Mrs Clear chuckled.

  ‘And someone’s pet bunny?’ Craig asked, horrified.

  ‘He was a wild fella that was out the back,’ she said easily. ‘Maybe you might like my home-made burgers with nice thick chips? I was thinking of a baked Alaska for your dessert,’ she said, clasping her hands over her round tummy.

  ‘That sounds wonderful,’ Carl said. ‘I’d say you’d be hitting the nail on the head with burgers and chips for this lot. Francine and I adore goose, don’t we, love?’

  ‘Mm.’ Francine’s mouth was full of brunch.

  ‘That’s settled, then. I’ll do a lovely potato and apple stuffing with roasties and gravy – I can taste it already! Podge loves a bit of roast so he’ll be happy too.’ She nodded towards him. ‘I call him the silent man! Sure he was never any different growing up. He’s ten years older than me and Mammy always said I was sent to balance him out. I talk enough for the two of us!’

  At that point she left them to finish their breakfast.

  ‘I have to hand it to Mrs Clear, she mightn’t be brilliant at cleaning but there was nothing wrong with that food,’ Carl whispered.

  ‘Certainly wasn’t, and my handbag is still safe,’ Francine said, as they began to giggle again.

  The children were dying to go swimming so they shouted goodbye into the kitchen behind the bar. ‘Cheerio, folks, see you later,’ she called back.

  ‘Bye, Podge,’ Carl said. If the man heard he didn’t acknowledge it. Howie had gobbled his breakfast and finished his bowl of water. As he passed the little dog at Podge’s feet, he wagged his tail and yipped. The smaller dog sniffed him and yapped back.

  ‘Howie’s made a friend,’ Cameron said. ‘This is a great place.’

  As they made their way gingerly along the corridor towards the pool, Francine had to admit she felt more relaxed than she had for a long time. The hotel might be a bit closer to Fawlty Towers than the Ritz, but it was certainly serving a purpose. The Hennessys were having fun together. This time yesterday she had felt as if she’d never smile again, let alone giggle into her breakfast like a teenager.

  The pool was better than they’d imagined. It was certainly compact, but as they were the only ones using it that didn’t matter.

  After their swim, they decided to take Howie out for a walk. It was a crisp, clear November afternoon, and the sun shone for a spell. Howie was beside himself, bounding around happily as the children chased him up a field. Francine inhaled the fresh country air and held Carl’s hand as they walked for miles. Out there, with nothing but green and an expanse of clear sky, she felt grounded once more.

  ‘Doesn’t nature bring the fragility of life to the fore?’ she mused to Carl.

  ‘Ah, it’s always good to step outside our day-to-day bubble,’ Carl agreed. ‘We’ll be all right, love,’ he said, as he squeezed her hand.

  Francine smiled. She hoped he was right.

  Chapter 32

  Jodi knew it wouldn’t take long for the press to contact her once Mac decided to tell their story, but even she was surprised when the World News phoned the following afternoon. Less than twenty-four hours, she thought wryly. That was pretty impressive – even for Mac.

  ‘I’ll do a press release tomorrow. Of course you’ll be on the list. Thank you for your interest,’ Jodi said, as she hung up.

  Noelle answered on the first ring. ‘So he’s finally done it,’ she said.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘Do you know what? I’m ready. It’s time for me to stop running from the past, Noelle.’

  ‘Attagirl. Now, with regard to Darius …’

  ‘That’s different. We’ll leave it as it is.’ Jodi was firm.

  ‘As you wish. I’ve organised a press conference and you need to be in the Regal Crown Hotel in London tomorrow at eleven. I guessed you’d want to get straight back so I’ve booked day-return flights and a car. Lovely Kate will look after Saul,’ Noelle said.

  ‘Great. I don’t like him missing school and I’ve more hope of avoiding the paparazzi if I come home.’ Jodi sighed. ‘They’ll probably arrive in Bakers Valley but they’ll get bored quicker here. Once you’ve seen one hedge you’ve seen them all.’

  They chatted about what Jodi would say and Noelle wished her a pleasant journey.

  On automatic pilot, Jodi pulled on her Hunter wellies, Puffa coat and a hat. The biting November breeze stung her cheeks as she marched determinedly up the avenue to Sebastian’s kitchen door and knocked as loudly as her freezing knuckles would allow.

  Sebastian opened the door and, without thinking, Jodi flung herself into his arms.

  Wordlessly he led her to the sofa. ‘Jodi … I … I don’t know how to say this to you,’ he stuttered, ‘but all I can offer you is friendship. I’m too damaged and hurt to be anything more …’ He looked grief-stricken.

  ‘That’s all you can offer? Sebastian, I’ve only ever yearned for people who care about me. Real people who have my back. If you can be one of those, you’re offering me the biggest prize of all.’

  ‘But I thought you might want more.’ He blushed. ‘Forgive my presumptuous arrogance. I thought for a moment that you were expecting us to …’

  ‘Sex makes things messy. It’s never helped me in life. If we can be there for one another without the mess, that’s good enough for me.’

  Pulling the Aran knit rug from the back of the sofa, he wrapped them in its warmth, cradling her in his arms protectively.

  ‘My life is about to splash like an exploding tin of paint all over the press,’ Jodi confessed.

  ‘Why?’

  Once Jodi began to talk it was as if a dam had breached inside her. She told him all about her relationship with Darius, that she adored him but that their marriage was a sham.

  ‘But why would you do such a thing? A girl like you could have any man,’ he said gently.

  ‘Once upon a time Darius was my saviour. I couldn’t face the bad press and I wasn’t strong enough to shoulder the truth. But I’m older and wiser now. I’ve finished running away, Sebastian,’ she said, as tears began to fall again. ‘I’ll never talk about Darius to the papers, though. We both owe it to Saul to keep that part secret. But some day soon we’ll have to stage an amicable split. For both our sakes.’

  ‘And now?’ Sebastian wondered.

  ‘Now it’s time for me to face Mac.’

  ‘Surely he can be silenced again.’

  ‘No. I’ve paid in more ways than one. He won’t be quiet for much longer, no matter what I say or do. So the time has come. Tomorrow will be awful but, as I know only too well, the press will feast on my pain. I’ll be everywhere for a couple of weeks and then some other poor sod will take my place.’

  It was time to collect Saul from school and pack for their brief trip to London.

  ‘I could mind him for you tomorrow, if you like?’ Sebastian asked shyly.

  ‘Would you do that for me?’ she asked, as she shrugged her coat on.

  ‘It’d be my pleasure. What time do you need to leave for the airport?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s the problem. I’ll have to go at five in the morning.’

  ‘No bother,’ Sebastian said, a farmer once more. ‘Sure I’ll be up anyway. Tell the lad I’ll be there when he wakes and I’ll drop him to the school in my vintage car.’ A sad smile spread to his eyes. ‘Blake used to love it when I did that.’

  Jodi hugged him again and thanked him for the offer.

  As a few dainty flakes of snow flitted past, she pulled the zip on her Puffa coat as high as it could go. Oddly, she didn’t feel cold any more.

  Moments
later, Saul was jumping up and down in front of her. ‘Sebastian’s taking me to school in his olden-days car!’

  ‘You bet!’ Jodi said, grinning.

  ‘That is going to be the best thing ever,’ he said. Normally if Jodi told Saul she was leaving, even if only for a short time, he’d fret and make her feel guilty. But the promise of a trip in the vintage car and Sebastian’s company changed all of that.

  ‘We love Sebastian, don’t we?’ he said, holding her hand as they walked home.

  ‘Yes,’ Jodi affirmed. ‘We do.’

  Chapter 33

  Francine squirmed as they crawled between the nylon sheets at the hotel. ‘It’s awful in here. The goose was delicious and Mrs Clear is a dear old lady but these sheets smell faintly of wee,’ Francine said, shuddering.

  ‘Don’t move around too quickly there, love, or you might cause a spark with the friction,’ Carl teased her.

  Once again she found herself giggling at the awfulness of the room.

  ‘Besides,’ Carl continued. ‘If we were in a five-star place with Egyptian-cotton sheets and snooty staff, they mightn’t have appreciated Cameron’s singing during dinner.’

  ‘Or Howie joining in!’

  The creaking of the bunk beds in the adjoining room ceased as the children fell asleep. The early start coupled with the fun-filled day had truly tired them out.

  With no kitchen to escape to, Francine was forced to try to sleep. ‘Carl?’ she whispered, into the darkness.

  ‘No!’ he said, laughing. ‘That stench was Howie, not me! I know I’m a man and you think all men are louts after drinking beer but, seriously, give me the benefit of the doubt.’

  Francine giggled.

  ‘I told Mrs Clear not to feed him sprouts.’ Carl laughed.

  ‘I never knew Golden Retrievers liked baked Alaska either.’ Francine snorted.

  The older woman had thought it perfectly normal to bring a proper dinner for Howie. Fair enough, she’d put it into a dog dish but he’d had the full works, including apple sauce.

  Old Podge and his Jack Russell, Sniff, had been catered for too.