The Wife's Choice: An emotional and totally unputdownable family drama

by Emma Davies

  I nod. ‘Which we did, and it helped, I think. Laid a few ghosts to rest, that kind of thing.’ Stirred up a few too, but I’m not going to mention that.

  ‘So how have you left things between you?’

  Her question surprises me. ‘I don’t really know. I mean, it’s not as if we—’

  Nancy reaches out a hand. ‘Would it help you to know that I’m with someone new?’ she says, a slight smile on her face. ‘With Sam’s blessing, I might add.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I stop to think. Does it make a difference? It shouldn’t really… Although perhaps the question I should be asking myself is to what does it make a difference?

  It’s hard to know how to answer her question, but I clear my throat, as much to marshal my thoughts as anything.

  ‘I think it’s like you said the other day,’ I begin. ‘About fear and being scared of changing… I was in a bad way when Sam and I split up. I already knew Hugh as a friend and when things began to develop between us, I realised I needed him, and I needed the comfort, safety and security that I knew marriage to him would bring. But I guess now I can see that the trade-off for my marriage to Hugh has been the loss of me – the things that make me who I am. I’ve become a certain person over the years, but not necessarily the one I thought I was going to become. Does that make any sense?’

  I wait for her to nod before continuing. ‘And I think meeting Sam again has reminded me of the person I was before, that’s all. He sent me some information too, about a job that I’ve always wanted to do, and if I decide to go after it, then I don’t think I’m going to stay the same. I find that a little…disconcerting. But really, that’s all there’s been to meeting Sam again; setting in motion something that I wasn’t expecting and, who knows, it might turn out to be a very good thing indeed. But whatever I decide to do, Sam will be going back home soon and I’ll be getting on with my life too. And that’s exactly the way it should be.’

  ‘Don’t have any regrets, Alys, not when you have the chance to change your future.’

  ‘No, not regrets as such. Just a slight worry about the repercussions of things changing.’ I pause. ‘But actually, it’s Esme that I’m more concerned about now…’

  Nancy looks up, startled.

  ‘I’m worried that this might be a little awkward for her. Not because I want to hide my past history with Sam as such, just that… well, you know how kids view their parents. She’s going to think this is weird…’

  ‘I hadn’t thought about that,’ agrees Nancy. ‘But you’re right. She’ll think it’s very weird. I mean, God forbid a parent should have had a life before they came along. Or be a person in their own right, other than just their mum.’

  She picks up her mug again and swallows its contents. ‘No, I think that as far as your relationship with Sam is concerned, for now at least, there’s no need for Esme or Theo to know anything beyond the fact that you’ve just met him – in his role as my ex-husband, Theo’s dad and one half of The Green Room. It doesn’t have to be any more difficult than that, does it? In fact, it’s all very simple really.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I agree, nodding eagerly and mightily relieved that Nancy is so astute. ‘Perfectly simple.’

  13

  I can’t remember the last time I went shopping, not for something like this anyway. A sparkly, expensive show-stopper of a dress that will cost far too much money and I will probably hate when I get home. But that’s not the point. I am not going to The Green Room’s opening in the same bloody thing I’ve been wearing for every special occasion, including Scarlett’s engagement party.

  And I haven’t even mentioned it to Hugh. Not just the circumstance of buying such a frivolous outfit but the opening either. If he’s been paying attention, he’ll know when it’s taking place – Esme has mentioned it enough times. But whether or not he’s actually taken in that this is an event which means a great deal to his daughter is another thing entirely. I’ll speak to him about it later of course, but first I want to see how I get on today because, ironically, Harringtons has always been the place to go to buy anything like what I’m after, but now is the last place I’m going to look.

  I stood in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom last night for quite some time, staring at my reflection. The wardrobe door was open, its contents all saying the same thing – we’re old, we’re plain, and we’re nearly all the same colour. But the loudest message of all, the one being shouted by nearly everything I own was, we’re boring, and I could hear it clear as a bell. I wasn’t deluded enough to think that I could ever wear anything that Esme would favour, but I did sneak into her room for just a second to retrieve the stunning red dress she had recently worn and hold it up against me for a moment. I’d had a dress like this once. Before.

  I didn’t try it on. I wouldn’t, not without asking Esme first, but in any case I doubt it would have fitted. But just the feel of the soft slippery fabric, the colour of it and the way it lit my face was enough for me to remember what it had felt like all those years ago. Because, more than anything, that’s how I wanted to feel.

  I’m now standing peering into the window of a shop I’ve never been in before. It has that slightly intimidating look about it, the one that says you can’t just drop in here nonchalantly in your lunch hour, with scruffy shoes on and wearing an ill-fitting uniform. If you come in here, you should at the very least attempt to look gorgeous first. So I’m really not sure whether I’m going in now, but there is the most amazing green dress in the window that I know I may live to regret not buying if I walk on by. I’m just at the point where I’ve convinced myself to stop having foolish ideas when I catch the eye of an immaculately made-up woman inside who gives me such a dazzling smile I can’t turn away. I push open the door and try to remember that I am free to leave at any time.

  Except that I don’t, not for at least three quarters of an hour, and when I do I’m clutching a bag containing a dress that actually made me flinch when I was told the price of it. And then I remembered the lump sum that will soon be winging its way to me, courtesy of my redundancy, and something rather wicked came over me.

  The whole process has taken far less time than I imagined it would and I’m now in something of a quandary. I could go straight home, but somehow the thought of returning sooner than planned doesn’t appeal. I’m already walking, heading back up towards the marketplace automatically, but I stop and look around me, as if seeing the possibilities of my freedom for the first time. And, as I do so, I catch a flash of sunlight on glass and I know I’m going to do something I haven’t done in a very long time.

  The library isn’t particularly busy, but then its great glass edifices have always given it a feeling of space, its layout allowing customers plenty of room to browse. I pause for a moment to stare up at the sky through the intricate ceiling dome, feeling a little thrill of excitement ripple over me. All these books, all this knowledge, stories and facts at my fingertips. Where on earth do I start?

  I know where I’m going to end up, but I want to savour my journey there, to take my time and explore. So many things I’ve missed over the years and I chide myself for being so foolish. How could you do this to yourself, Alys? Be so neglectful of a part of you that you should have tended and allowed to bloom, but instead have let wither and die. No, I remind myself, it’s not dead, not completely extinguished of life, merely dormant, waiting for the right conditions to allow its rebirth.

  Once upon a time I would have known what I was looking for. I would have recognised the authors’ names, their titles, but the sea of novels in front of me now is uncharted water and I have no idea where to begin. A display pulls me forward and within minutes I’m lost, drinking in words greedily as if I’ve been wandering in the desert for days without water. I smile inwardly at my sudden appetite, knowing that I can’t possibly eat all that I want to. I catch the eye of a man standing opposite who already has an armful of books.

  ‘I tell myself that just one more won’t hurt
,’ he says with a smile. ‘And then I wonder why my arms feel twice as long by the time I’ve carried them all home.’

  ‘I haven’t even got a clue where to start,’ I reply. ‘I’ve got out of the habit of reading lately, and when I say lately, I mean years and years. And now, looking at all these books, I’m wondering how I could ever have let that happen. Silly, isn’t it?’

  He gives me a sympathetic look. ‘But you’re here now, that’s the main thing. And the books don’t seem to mind. I’ve promised so many that I’ll get to them one day, and they’re still waiting, but so far none of the words have wandered off to find a reader who’s more reliable than me. Believe me, it’s never too late,’ he says, looking fondly at a table of novels. ‘But if you need a recommendation, this blew my mind.’ He pushes a navy-blue book towards me, embellished with a golden starburst on the cover. ‘And we’re talking serious book hangover…’

  I pick up the book, laughing. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘That’s exactly what I need.’

  He gives a small bow. ‘And when you’ve read that, come back and I’ll recommend another fix. We’ll have you addicted again in no time.’

  I frown at him quizzically before he moves the pile of books he’s holding slightly to one side revealing a small white pin badge.

  ‘Oh…’ I reply, light dawning. ‘You work here.’

  There’s another bow. ‘At your service,’ he says. ‘And I’m here every day so there’s no excuse. My name’s Max.’

  ‘Alys,’ I reply, momentarily taken aback by the charm of the young man in front of me. ‘And thank you. I will – come back, that is.’

  He leans forward. ‘And tell me, Alys. Are you a member of the library…? I’m just wondering, as you said you hadn’t been reading recently.’

  ‘Oh…’ I hadn’t even thought. I put down my things, pulling my handbag around so that I can rummage in it. ‘I would have been, years ago, but…’ I pull out my purse, turning to the stuffed section in the back that houses my collection of things I keep just in case. And eventually I find it; a little dirty, battered, and almost certainly out of date, but my old library card.

  Max holds out his hand, giving me an amused look. ‘I tell you what. You carry on browsing, take as long as you like, and when you’re done, pop to the front desk over there, and ask for me. I’ll have a new card ready and waiting for you and we can get all your details up to date. How’s that?’

  ‘Amazing,’ I reply, grinning. ‘Max, I shall be forever in your debt. There’s just one last thing you could help me with…’ I lean towards him and whisper something across the space between us.

  He grins. ‘Well now,’ he says. ‘You and I are going to get along like a house on fire. Up the stairs,’ he adds, pointing. ‘And away to your left… We’ve a lovely new Robert Frost anthology if that takes your fancy.’

  ‘How did you know I was a fan?’ I ask.

  Max gives me a pointed look. A very knowing look. But then simply smiles, raises my old library card in salute and walks away, still carrying his bundle of books.

  I pick up the blue-bound title that he recommended and head to the second floor, feeling almost light-headed with pleasure at the thought of so much to explore. I haven’t felt this way for a very long time, not since…

  I thrust the thought from my head and turn resolutely to the left as I reach the top of the stairs. That was then and this is now, but I’m still determined to enjoy myself.

  I have no idea how much time has passed when a hand enters my field of vision to the right. It’s holding a slim volume out towards me.

  ‘You should definitely read this,’ says the voice, and I can hear warm amusement in its tone.

  I turn to see Sam’s eyes ablaze with light, the little flecks of gold within them dancing in the sun.

  ‘Hello,’ I say.

  He smiles, but he looks tired. ‘Why, Alys, you wouldn’t be looking at poetry now would you?’

  I’m holding several books, their distinctive Faber and Faber bindings a giveaway. ‘I might be,’ I say, grinning. ‘What are you doing?’

  Sam looks around him as if wondering where he is, and I groan inwardly at the stupidity of my question. ‘Um…’ he replies, not wanting to state the obvious. ‘Although actually what I have been doing more recently is sitting at that table over there watching you. Were you aware that you still smile while you’re reading? I’d forgotten you do that.’

  I lift a hand to touch the corner of my mouth. ‘Me too,’ I reply. ‘But then I’d also forgotten how much I enjoyed doing it.’

  ‘I can tell,’ he says. ‘You look more… relaxed. Happier.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Sam nods. ‘More like your curly-haired self.’

  There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence when I wonder whether he is going to say anything further. But he doesn’t. Neither of us is going to comment on the spirals of hair that spill across my shoulders and down my back. I’m wondering how to reply when Sam shifts his weight audibly from one side to the other, passing his stick between hands.

  ‘Listen, we don’t have to go straight away – I’m quite happy to sit and wait – but if you’re done here, would you like to go and grab a coffee?’

  I know what the answer should be, but it isn’t the one I give. ‘Actually, that would be lovely,’ I reply. ‘And it probably is time to leave. I think I’ve got more than enough books to keep me going. For the time being at least.’

  Sam glances at all the titles I’ve already collected. ‘Well, the good thing about libraries,’ he says, ‘is that you’re not just limited to the one visit. You can always come back.’ His eyes are twinkling in amusement.

  ‘Oh, I’m definitely going to do that,’ I say. ‘I haven’t even started on the history of art books.’

  Max is true to his word and ten minutes later, books checked out with my new library card, Sam and I are sitting on one of the picnic tables at the back of the market square. It’s safer this way, being out in plain view of the public instead of tucked away in a coffee shop somewhere, less intimate somehow. Besides, there is a stall here that does the most amazing cakes and biscuits.

  I leave Sam to settle himself comfortably while I go and buy our coffees. The market is busy; it’s always bustling, and in the summertime there’s often nowhere to sit. Except that when I return I can see that Sam still has the whole table to himself. I slow as I approach, watching a young mother with her daughter looking for a place to stop. The child is fractious, carrying a carton of fruit juice, but even so, after a glance in Sam’s direction, the woman continues walking. And I wonder if Sam even sees this any more; this subconscious decision-making that goes on around him all the time. And my heart goes out to him. He deserves so much better than this.

  I lay our drinks down on the table, dropping the paper bag that contains our enormous cookies. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d like,’ I say. ‘But then I remembered that you always had a passion for Toffee Crisps so I hope that’s still the case.’ I push the bag towards him. ‘These can almost give you diabetes just by looking at them. But every once in a while, just so good.’

  Sam grins. ‘Diabetes,’ he says. ‘The one condition I don’t have. Excellent. I shall enjoy it no end.’

  I take my seat beside him, pulling out my own cookie, which is studded with chunks of Snickers bars. ‘I decided to apply for that job,’ I say. ‘Or at least, not quite apply, but I’ve been looking on their website and they offer volunteer placements too. So that’s what I’m going to do. For the time being, anyway, and then who knows? Once I have some experience, and have brushed up on my knowledge and skills, maybe one day there will be a job at the end of it. But I’m never going back to work in Harringtons, or any other shop, and I am not going to sit at home watching my life pass me by.’

  Sam’s mouth has dropped open and my own eyes widen in response to what I’ve just said. Up until that moment I hadn’t even been sure that I’d made up my mind, but I clearly have, and with a conviction I didn�
��t even know I possessed.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That all came out a little more… forcefully, than I intended. I think I might have been bottling it up rather.’

  But Sam merely raises his eyebrows. ‘I’m glad,’ is all he says, before taking a huge bite of his cookie. He chews for a moment, a look of pleasure growing on his face. ‘And yes, I do still have a passion for Toffee Crisps.’ He drops his gaze to the floor where my bag sits tucked into the side of his legs. ‘I have a confession to make,’ he says, looking back up at me with a mischievous smile. ‘I had a tiny peek at what you’ve bought. A new dress… Is that for the grand opening?’

  ‘It’s green,’ I reply. ‘I thought it would be appropriate. But now that I think of it… probably everybody will be wearing green.’

  ‘Well I won’t be if that’s any consolation.’

  I catch the look in his eye. ‘Not really,’ I say. ‘And I can’t believe how much money it cost me. I’ve never spent that amount on a dress before. Never spent that amount on anything before come to think of it. I don’t know how I’m going to explain it to Hugh.’

  ‘Don’t.’

  I shake my head. ‘No, I have to. I’ve never been very good at hiding things, and I’ll only fret about it if I don’t.’

  ‘Ah, Alys… You always were so honest.’

  I lower my biscuit. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I ask. I can’t fathom the expression on his face.

  ‘Nothing,’ he says lightly. ‘Just an observation. Not everyone is as truthful as you.’

  A sudden heat floods my face, and I shove in a mouthful of biscuit to hide my feelings. That’s not true at all.

  But if Sam has noticed he makes no show of it. ‘Well, whether you tell Hugh or not I’m sure you’ll look lovely.’ He pauses a moment, studying his coffee cup. ‘You know, after Friday, Alys, I’ll be heading home… not straight away, but a day or so afterwards. Nancy doesn’t really need me here, it’s just for moral support really, although I’m not sure she even needs that. But, once they’re open, there’s no more real reason to stay.’