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

by Emma Davies

  ‘No,’ I reply. It’s a small, quiet noise that sits in the space between us. ‘But I’m sure she has appreciated you being here.’ I can’t believe I’m going to say this. I thought at one time that I would have got down on my knees and begged if it would have made Sam stay. ‘And it’s probably for the best.’

  ‘Probably.’ Sam holds my look for a moment, his eyes clear and bright in the sunlight. ‘But it’s been good to see you again, Alys. To know that you’re okay, settled.’

  ‘And that you didn’t ruin my life after all?’ But I smile; it’s not meant as a rebuke. ‘I should thank you actually,’ I say. ‘I think you’ve given me just the kick up the bum I needed. You’ve made me realise how complacent I’ve become and that maybe now is the time to make a few changes.’

  ‘Well now you’re just being kind,’ replies Sam. ‘I don’t think I had anything to do with it at all.’

  But he has, I know he has.

  I dip my head. ‘We may have to agree to disagree but, either way, it’s been good to see you too. To know that you’re okay… Settled.’

  He smiles at my repetition of his words. There doesn’t seem much else left to say. He picks up his cup of coffee and drinks half. ‘It’s weird, isn’t it? One minute you’re twenty with your whole life ahead of you and the next you’re fifty, looking backward, and knowing that, whatever happens, just the passage of time inevitably means that your best years have already gone by.’

  ‘Ah yes, but some of us have made more of those years than others,’ I say. ‘I mean, look at you and all that you’ve had to contend with. And yet you’re incredibly successful. You put The Green Room on the map and there aren’t many people who can say that about their lives. I think I always had ambition, just not at that level. But who knows, maybe I’m a late bloomer.’

  ‘Or maybe your life is just too small for you now,’ replies Sam. ‘That happens. It’s a bastard when it does but…’ He fingers a crumb of his biscuit. ‘We grow out of things, Alys. We grow out of people too.’

  He isn’t looking at me, and I can’t tell from the expression on his face who he’s referring to. Is it him doing the growing, or is it me? And if it’s me, it begs the question just who I’ve grown out of…

  I stare out across the marketplace, at all the people going about their daily lives, and I can’t help but wonder if any of them feel the way I do now. I check my watch and pick up my paper cup to finish my coffee. I think it’s probably time to go before one of us says something dangerous, or thinks it. But I haven’t banked on the way that Sam never dodges difficult conversations.

  ‘Will we see each other again?’ he asks.

  His voice is light and his face, when I look at it, open and relaxed. But there is still an ambiguity to his question, and I need to be sure I answer it the right way.

  ‘Well, I would imagine it’s inevitable, from time to time. I don’t know exactly how Esme sees her future but I think she’s planning on being with The Green Room for quite a while. I’m sure there’ll be occasions when you’re needed here. Or you’re simply just around, as Theo’s dad… and Nancy’s ex-husband.’ My words dry up. This isn’t what he meant and we both know it.

  Sam smiles. He could always tell when I was being evasive. ‘Perhaps I should rephrase my question,’ he says. ‘Do you want to see me again?’ He pauses for just a second. ‘That’s not an invitation by the way, I’m just interested to know. Because I think at least one of us needs to admit that it would probably be a very, very bad idea.’

  He sighs. ‘I’m not doing this very well, Alys, but what I’m trying to say is that I can’t ignore what you meant to me all those years ago, just as I suppose the same to be true for you. That doesn’t mean that we should do anything about it. For our families’ sakes, for Hugh, for Theo and Esme… for us too.’

  ‘I agree. For heaven’s sake, Sam, apart from anything else we’re not the young kids we were when we got married. We’re different people now, with a lifetime of experiences and hopefully wisdom between us. And don’t worry, I don’t feel slighted, what I feel is grateful. I won’t pretend that seeing you again hasn’t been a shock, but what it has done is settle all those “what if” questions that I’ve been carrying around for years.’

  He smiles a little sadly.

  ‘I think it’s human nature, isn’t it?’ I continue. ‘To hang onto issues from our past we think are unresolved, to carry them with us and harbour little hopes and dreams of a life that could have been so different. The trouble is in doing so we lose sight of the life we actually have. I think I understand that now.’

  Sam nods, squinting into the sun. He’s staring past me, looking at something in the distance, whether real or in his head I can’t tell, but as I watch him, a smile turns up the corners of his mouth.

  ‘I feel I should offer a toast,’ he says, picking up his coffee cup once more. ‘To the future?’

  ‘Yes, to the future, and all who sail in her.’ I lean forward to collect my bag from Sam’s feet. ‘I should get going,’ I say. ‘I’ve got books to read, if nothing else.’

  ‘You have,’ he replies, reaching for his stick. He pushes himself up from the table, taking a moment to centre his balance, and then draws in a breath, looking around him as if noticing the beautiful day for the first time.

  ‘What are you going to do now?’ I ask.

  ‘I wasn’t sure,’ he replies. ‘But you know, I think I might go and have a look around the cathedral. I promised myself I would before I went home.’

  ‘Oh, you should. It’s the most complete Norman cathedral in England, did you know? And the gardens are beautiful too. There’s a stillness there that is so…’ I trail off, trying to find the right word.

  ‘Still?’

  I laugh. ‘Yes, absolutely. They’re very still.’

  Sam takes a step forward. ‘Then I shall do just that.’ He pauses a moment. ‘Thanks for the coffee and the diabetes,’ he says. ‘And I’ll see you on Friday at the opening.’

  I nod.

  ‘Wearing your green dress?’

  ‘Quite possibly,’ I reply.

  I watch as he moves away, his slow rocking walk almost painful to watch. I turn to collect our empty cups and the paper bag that held our biscuits and I’m just about to pop them in the nearest bin when I hear my name.

  ‘If you’ve got nowhere you need to be,’ asks Sam. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to accompany me to the cathedral? One last heated debate about architecture for old times’ sake?’

  ‘Is Tom going to be there?’

  My dress lies on the bed, its cost momentarily forgotten as Hugh refocuses his attention.

  ‘His name’s Sam, Hugh, you can’t go around referring to him as Tom. In fact, you mustn’t, for Theo’s sake as much as anything. For all I know he has no idea his dad ever went by any other name.’

  Hugh tuts. ‘Yes, well whatever his name is, is he going to be there?’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ I reply. Not a lie as such. ‘I can’t just pointedly come out and ask, that would look odd. But, given the occasion, yes, I would say there’s every chance Sam will be there.’

  Hugh thinks for a moment, scuffing his toe against the carpet. ‘Then if you don’t mind I’ll give the party a miss.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ I hiss, furious. ‘This is Esme’s big night. For goodness’ sake, Hugh. I don’t especially want to see Sam again but all you have to do is be civil to him. Just a polite hello, there’s no need to say any more.’

  I narrow my eyes in confusion, wondering if I’ve missed something. ‘You know you’re pouting like a six-year-old,’ I say, suddenly remembering something from a few days ago. ‘And I got the impression that Sam wasn’t very keen about meeting you either. In fact, that he had no intention of rekindling your friendship. Did something happen between you?’

  ‘Well, I should have thought that was obvious,’ says Hugh. ‘You did. You’re the thing that happened between us.’ But then he stops dead. ‘Hang on a mi
nute, when did Sam tell you this?’

  Too late I realise I’ve let slip something I shouldn’t have. But there’s also something not right about what Hugh just said either. My head is spinning. ‘Hugh, how can I be the thing that happened between you and Sam, when you and I came after we’d split up?’

  But he’s not about to be sidetracked. ‘No, no you don’t. Don’t try to deflect this back onto me. Answer my question, Alys. When exactly did Sam mention that he wasn’t keen on meeting me again?’

  I swallow. There’s no point trying to lie when Hugh will never let this drop. I’m going to have to tell him. ‘When he came to see me a few days after I bumped into him at the shop. He came to apologise for his behaviour. To do the decent thing, Hugh. It would have been rude just to ignore the fact that we’d met, however briefly it was, and so he came to say he was sorry, for all the hurt and the upset he had caused, and to try to explain why.’

  ‘I didn’t realise you’d seen him again,’ Hugh replies, coldly, completely ignoring the facts of what I’ve just said.

  ‘No, and I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this.’

  His eyes are blazing. ‘So when did you meet? My God, Alys, did you let him into our home?’

  ‘So what if I did?’

  ‘After what he did to you.’ He shakes his head. ‘I can’t believe you would do that.’

  I let out a sigh of frustration. ‘For goodness’ sake. You’re making him out to be something of a monster.’

  ‘He is a monster, Alys. He ruined your life.’

  ‘No, he didn’t, Hugh. You made sure of that.’

  His eyes grow wider as I see my barb strike home. And my heart sinks. I really shouldn’t have said that.

  ‘And what’s that supposed to mean? What are you trying to tell me now? That you’d rather I hadn’t come to your rescue?’

  I stare at him. ‘No, of course not, don’t be so silly…’ I trail off, as I realise what it is about his words that’s irritating me. ‘Is that how you really see it; that you came to my rescue? I thought we’d fallen in love, Hugh, or is that not what happened at all? Did you plan to rescue me all along?’

  ‘Oh, and who’s being silly now?’

  ‘Am I? I don’t think so. I’m just wondering why you’re having such trouble accepting that Sam and I simply bumped into one another and, whether you like it or not, neither of us can change that fact. Neither can we ignore it. Sam tried to do the right thing and now you have a problem with that too. It isn’t as if it actually changes anything, but at least he bothered to try to explain.’

  Hugh looks as if he’s going to argue further, but he won’t; criticising Sam at this point would only make him look bad. But he hasn’t finished.

  ‘And so once he’d finished explaining, what did you say to him?’ he asks.

  ‘Simply that I accepted his apology. What else could I do? And yes, I told him that he’d hurt me, and that over the years I’ve thought of a million and one things I could say if we ever met. But do you know what, Hugh? In the end none of it matters, so that’s what I told Sam. I thanked him for coming to see me and I wished him well in the future, knowing that once the restaurant is open it’s unlikely we’ll ever need to see one another again.’

  I raise my eyebrows. A challenge. ‘So, that being the case, do you think that you could try to do the decent thing, for Esme’s sake, and come to the restaurant opening, be polite to Sam if you meet him, and draw a line under this like I have?’

  Hugh’s eyes flick across to the bed. ‘And you’re wearing that dress, are you? Even though it cost a ridiculous amount of money.’

  ‘Yes I am,’ I reply. ‘I haven’t bought myself anything in a long time. I even had to attend your sister’s engagement party wearing something the whole family has seen on at least ten different occasions. Not that you did, I might add. How much did your suit cost, Hugh? So this time, for Esme, and for me actually, I thought I deserved to treat myself. And don’t tell me we can’t afford it. Not when I earned every penny of my redundancy from Harringtons.’

  There’s something unfathomable in the depths of Hugh’s eyes, but then he stalks from the room without saying another word. And it isn’t until afterwards that I realise he never answered my question about how I came between his friendship with Sam.

  14

  Esme looks as though she doesn’t know whether she wants to jump up and down with excitement or run and hide. One single mistake is all it would take. A dish over-seasoned, a sauce burned, a plate of food dropped and The Green Room’s opening night will be a disaster.

  The press are due to arrive at any moment, and the rest of the guests in half an hour, so for now there are just the five of us standing in the kitchen. Where Sam is, I have no idea.

  Nancy looks amazing – confident and assured – but then she’s the only one out of all of us who is used to events like these. Used to working a room with press and reporters, columnists and fellow chefs, even the odd celebrity. It’s not going to be quite as high-profile an event as it would be for The Green Room in London, but for Esme and Theo it may as well be. It’s their first taste of being under the spotlight.

  ‘And whatever else happens,’ says Nancy, ‘I want everyone to enjoy themselves.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ remarks Theo, sliding a look at Esme, who rolls her eyes.

  ‘Well of course it is,’ she counters. ‘We all know what we’re doing. And I have the best team there is: professional, committed and, above all, extremely talented. There’s nothing to go wrong.’ She winks. ‘Besides, tonight is a showcase event, so we’re well ahead of the game. And, as you know, preparation is everything and we are very well prepared.’

  My eye is drawn to the counter tops where rows and rows of plates are laid out. The guests are all being served the same set course so everything that can be done in advance has been and the menu has been specifically chosen with this in mind.

  Nancy checks her watch. ‘Right, I must go through, ready to meet and greet.’ She straightens her dress, breathing deeply. ‘Do I look all right?’

  ‘Gorgeous,’ answers Esme, turning to me. ‘And so do you, Mum.’ Her face is alight with happiness and my heart swells a little more. If only Hugh shared her sentiment. He’s only just stopped sulking, but he’s here and, as I glance at his smiling face, at least prepared to make an effort.

  He looks around the kitchen. It’s the first time he’s even been to the restaurant. ‘So, you’re all prepared then,’ he says. ‘Everything under control?’

  Esme nods, biting her lip a little now that Nancy has gone. ‘As we’ll ever be,’ she says. ‘Although maybe you should ask me that in half an hour…’ Her eyes flick to the huge clock on the wall. ‘Actually…’

  I nod. ‘Yes, we should let you get on,’ I say. ‘You can’t begin to get yourselves organised if we’re hanging around.’ I touch a hand to Hugh’s sleeve. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a drink and leave them to it.’

  Hugh follows me out into the main restaurant where there are already quite a few people gathered. I’d asked Nancy to seat us unobtrusively at the back but, even though our table is tucked away, it still affords a wonderful view of the room. We’ve no sooner reached it when a young woman materialises in front of us. She’s wearing white from head to toe.

  ‘May I get you something?’ she asks, smiling. ‘Some champagne perhaps?’

  ‘Just something soft for me, please. An orange juice if you have it.’

  She smiles her assent, nodding at Hugh in turn.

  ‘I’ll have the champagne,’ he replies, but before he can sit down, the waitress indicates that he should wait a moment. She slides the chairs away from the table, offering a seat first to me and then to Hugh before melting away.

  Hugh holds my look, raising his eyebrows. ‘Very slick,’ he comments before looking around the room. ‘So who’s coming to this shindig anyway?’ he asks.

  ‘I really have no idea,’ I reply. ‘I haven’t asked, but in any cas
e, even if I knew the names I doubt I’d be any wiser. I’m guessing they’ll be local dignitaries plus a few friends. I know Nancy has also drummed up a bit of publicity by running a competition, giving six couples a chance to be the first to dine here.’

  The waitress reappears carrying a silver tray which holds our two drinks. She places them on the table before retreating once more, only to reappear seconds later with a jug of water and a platter filled with little morsels that smell divine. ‘For the table,’ she informs us.

  Hugh stares at the plate of food as if he’s never eaten before. ‘God, I’m starving,’ he says. ‘But heaven only knows what this is.’

  ‘They’re lemon and garlic artichoke crostini,’ I inform him. Which he would know if he’d been listening to what Esme had been saying at the dinner table the night before.

  He pops one in his mouth, chewing slowly, before nodding. But it’s such a grudging gesture it makes me want to slap him. In fact everything about Hugh is irritating me tonight, I don’t know why. I take a sip of my orange juice before standing up, keen to do something which will break my mood.

  ‘I’ll be back in a second,’ I say. ‘I forgot, but I’d promised Esme I’d take some photos of the big day for her.’ I pick up my phone and head back to the kitchen.

  I can’t tell at first whether Esme is laughing or crying but, as I enter the room, Theo pulls her into a hug. They cling together for a moment or two and something about the relaxed way they fit together catches my eye. But then they pull apart, laughing, a little embarrassed, and I realise that all I’ve seen is the easy familiarity of people who work together day in day out. At least that’s what I tell myself it is.

  Esme pulls a face. ‘Bit of a wobble,’ she squeaks, flapping at her pink cheeks. ‘But I’m okay now. It suddenly hit me what’s happening tonight.’

  Theo smiles. ‘Yes, a room full of people are going to have a wonderful meal,’ he says and Esme flashes him a grateful look.