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

by Emma Davies

  ‘Yes, they are,’ she agrees, firmly.

  I wave my phone. ‘Come on then, let’s get some photos for posterity,’ I say. ‘The two of you.’

  I’m about to wave my hands to signal that they should move closer together, when Theo’s arm goes around her shoulders, pulling her in. It’s an entirely natural pose as they both smile, relaxed for the camera, but I can feel my fingers tighten around the edge of my phone and a little flicker of anxiety gnaws at my stomach. Why didn’t I see this before?

  I think back to all the times I’ve seen them together, the occasions when Esme has mentioned Theo’s name. Is there anything more between them than just a good working relationship? No, I’m certain there isn’t. Esme would have mentioned something… wouldn’t she? I snap another shot.

  ‘Right, Mum, your turn. Let’s have some pictures of you. After all you look amazing in that dress. Just like Grace Kelly.’

  Theo comes forward. ‘You and Esme,’ he says. ‘I’ll take them.’

  And so I stand and pose and smile and try not to think about all the horrible things that could go wrong.

  There’s no sign of Hugh at our table when I return, but then I catch sight of him standing with a group of people who have obviously just arrived. The waitresses are hovering with drinks and there’s an awful lot of air kissing going on. The mayoress is among them, together with a couple of other men I recognise but can’t put names to. As I watch, Hugh shakes hands with one of them and I realise that despite his reticence about coming here tonight, he’s actually in his element. He’d obviously had no idea that Nancy would be quite so well connected with the local business community, and his position as manager of Harringtons makes him a perfect fit.

  Nancy is walking towards the group accompanied by a young man with a camera around his neck and, as he automatically takes charge of the group, arranging them for the official photos, I see Nancy look around. She waves as she spots me and comes hurrying over.

  ‘No excuses,’ she says, grinning. ‘Over you come. I want you standing next to me. As mum to one of my fabulous chefs you deserve to be in the limelight. Plus, I want everyone to see how amazing you look.’

  I pull at her arm. ‘But Nancy I don’t know anyone. They’re all bigwigs and I’m—’

  ‘Don’t you dare say it! You’re not just anything… Now, smile, because the sooner we do this the sooner we can all eat. We were so busy earlier I missed lunch and now I’m so hungry I’m terrified my stomach is going to make the most horrendous growling noise.’

  True to her word, Nancy positions me next to her as she stands poised and assured, smiling broadly for the camera. In a matter of moments we’re done and she rushes off to the kitchen to collect Esme and Theo to repeat the process. I’m left standing adrift beside an elegantly dressed man, who looks to be about the same age as me. He’s slim, silver-haired and has piercing blue eyes.

  ‘I’m Mark Lawrence,’ he says, holding out his hand, and there’s something about the way he says it that catches at my memory. His manner is direct although his voice softly spoken.

  I take his hand, frowning slightly. ‘I feel as if I should know you,’ I say. ‘Except that…’ I tap my head. ‘Nothing’s forthcoming.’

  He places a hand over his heart. ‘I’m devastated…’

  It’s a corny line and I’m just wondering whether he’s flirting when his smile broadens. ‘Although to be fair, I’ve changed quite a bit, whereas you look just the same as you always did…’

  I squint at him, desperately trying to work out where I should know him from.

  ‘Of course, I’m here in my official capacity this evening as a writer for Olive magazine. Given the occasion and the prominence of The Green Room, I’d have been here to cover the opening anyway. The fact that Sam and I went to uni together just makes this all the more agreeable.’

  And it comes to me. The memory rushing in, leaving my heart pounding. Because the last time I saw Mark was on the day I married Sam. The smile is still on my face. Does he know, I wonder, what came after the wedding? He must do… He’s stayed in touch with Sam, after all. He must know how things are now… I just pray that he doesn’t mention it.

  ‘Mark… Of course! Oh my God, but you’re…’ I break off, a hand over my mouth.

  ‘Half the size I was,’ he finishes for me, eyes twinkling.

  ‘Well, yes. Sorry… that was an awful thing to say.’

  ‘Not at all. A statement of fact. I was a big fat blob when you knew me and now I’m not. But, if you remember, I was also somewhat of an environmental activist and when I left uni and started work, got my own place, I decided to become a vegetarian. Giving up my fry-ups had an immediate effect on my waistline and I’ve never looked back.’

  I grin. ‘So I see. You look great! But you were studying politics, I seem to remember – what happened to that?’

  ‘I decided I was never going to make PM so a career in politics seemed somewhat irrelevant when I graduated. You might also remember I read English Literature alongside and that seemed the much easier option. I went into journalism and I’ve been with Olive since its inception. And how about you? What are you doing these days, Alys?’

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to reply ‘nothing much’, or that ‘I’m a housewife’, but then I realise that I don’t have to. I’m standing here, at the opening of a prestigious restaurant, wearing a gorgeous dress. I can be anything I want to be. In fact, it’s safer if I am.

  ‘I’m actually just about to do some retraining,’ I reply. ‘I’ve spent most of my life working with textiles in one way or another but now I’m refocusing on conservation rather than production.’ It isn’t a complete lie, I mean dressmaking and selling haberdashery are product based… sort of. And I don’t need to mention Harringtons; Mark will assume I moved on from there years ago. ‘Maybe it’s my age but I’ve always loved history, and the older I get the more relevant it feels.’

  ‘Then that sounds perfect.’

  We smile at one another, both wondering what else to say. But I can see that now Mark’s initial surprise at seeing me is over, he’s beginning to think a little more about the circumstances of the evening. If he’s here to cover The Green Room’s opening, then he’ll obviously know that this is Nancy’s endeavour, just as he’ll know why this new venture doesn’t include Sam. All of which must make him wonder why I’m here. Hugh is still standing a little way from me. I have no idea whether they’ve met, introduced themselves perhaps, or even recognised one another. But the chances of that are slender, surely? As far as I’m aware the two men have met only once and that was a very long time ago. There’s an outside chance Mark might think he looks vaguely familiar but that should be all… Unless of course, Sam has filled in the blanks for him.

  But I can’t just walk away, it would be rude. ‘So, are you here to write a nice piece for Nancy?’ I ask, directing the conversation back onto what I hope is safer ground. ‘I hope you’re not one of those writers who pens damning critiques because I can’t wait to see what’s in store for us tonight.’

  Mark smiles and I’m relieved that he’s happy to follow the conversation. ‘Not at all. It will be all good. I’ve long been a fan of The Green Room’s cuisine, so this will be very much a celebratory article.’ He glances over to where Theo and Esme have been posing for the photographer. It looks as if they’re just about finished. ‘In fact, I should probably go and get some background information, make sure I’ve got my facts straight and all that. Enjoy your evening, won’t you? It’s been lovely to see you again.’

  It might be my imagination but I’m sure his gaze settles on Hugh for just a moment before turning back to me. There’s a second or two where I think he’s going to say something, but then he checks himself.

  ‘It’s been lovely to see you too, Mark,’ I reply. ‘I’ll look forward to reading your article.’

  I scuttle back to our table, relieved to be tucked safely out of the way, and pop one of the little crostini in my mouth, wil
ling myself to relax. Hugh joins me after a few minutes and I see that most people are now taking their seats. They look happy, ready to enjoy the food, and I offer up a prayer for Esme that all will run smoothly.

  I needn’t have worried. If there are any panics in the kitchen, it certainly doesn’t show to those of us in the dining room. Plateful after plateful of exquisite food is brought out, from the porcini mushrooms with truffle oil to the robust white bean, parsnip and apple sausages, mustard mash with a heavenly cider jus; the food is delicious and the presentation nothing less than perfection.

  ‘Well, that was all rather good,’ says Hugh, wiping his mouth. ‘As you know, I’m not much of one when it comes to food like this, I’d rather just have a good steak, but yes, I enjoyed that.’

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue but there’s little point, I will never succeed in changing Hugh’s mind. And it would only spoil the evening.

  ‘Just wait until you taste the dessert,’ I reply. ‘I had a little sample the other day and it was utterly gorgeous.’

  Hugh straightens his knife and fork. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d been here quite as much as you have.’ His voice is cool.

  ‘I do have to drop Esme at work every day,’ I reply evenly. ‘And Nancy’s very friendly, she invites me in for coffee sometimes, as you know. That’s how we got talking about the dress I made for Tash,’ I remind him. ‘And why she asked me to make her tuxedo. It’s nice actually. Being included. Especially as this is such a big thing for Esme.’

  ‘Well, Nancy’s very gregarious,’ replies Hugh. ‘I will say that.’ He looks around the room, to where she’s circulating among the tables, stopping to chat every now and again, although her eagle eye is missing nothing. ‘But I’m pleased to see she’s on her own this evening. No Sam in tow. She clearly doesn’t need him.’

  It’s astonishing how Hugh can put his own unique slant on any situation and I can’t help but wonder why I haven’t noticed this before.

  ‘I don’t think tonight has anything to do with Nancy needing Sam or otherwise. They’ve had an incredibly successful partnership, don’t forget, and that’s what it was, a partnership. This is a different venture, that’s all, and Sam is just as keen to see it succeed as Nancy is.’

  Hugh scowls. ‘I don’t know why you’re so keen to defend him all the time.’

  ‘I don’t know why you’re so keen to put him down the whole time.’ I study his face. ‘You used to be friends, Hugh, what happened?’

  He’s saved from having to reply by the reappearance of the waitress who clears our plates. She’s followed by another moments later who lays down two plates, each filled with a generous portion of the heavenly panna cotta I was so lucky to sample earlier.

  Hugh picks up his spoon and with one last look at me proceeds to demolish his dessert. The discussion, if you can call it that, is over.

  I have no idea how many times the glasses have been topped up, but it isn’t until Hugh swigs back his remaining champagne that I realise how pink his cheeks have got. I stare at the jug of water on the table and pour myself a large measure, grateful to be keeping a clear head.

  The conversation around the room has continued at a steady hum throughout the meal, convivial and relaxed, but I’m suddenly aware that it’s dying away. No sooner do I realise that than a spontaneous round of applause starts up and I see Nancy walking back into the room with Theo and Esme in tow.

  I pick up the napkin from my lap, dropping it onto the table before standing and adding my own enthusiastic clapping to the mix. Esme looks a little like the proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights, but her face is split by a broad grin as Nancy leads her forward. She reaches behind her, catching hold of Theo’s hand to pull him forward, and I see their fingers entwine just for a second or two. I’m overjoyed that everything has gone so well for them all. Esme has fought so hard to get to this point, her single-minded determination getting her through, even when it looked as if Hugh wouldn’t budge and would try to push her into the career he had chosen for her instead of allowing her to study what she wanted. The fact that she’s now basking in everyone’s well-deserved praise makes me feel even more happy for her.

  Hugh is also on his feet, a smile on his face as he looks around a room full of people intent on showing their appreciation for the wonderful food they’ve just eaten. But I can’t help but wonder whether he is genuinely pleased for Esme or whether he’s just happy to bask in the reflected glory of being her father. I shake my head. I know I need to get rid of such thoughts, but they’re there and even banishing them won’t make me forget them.

  Nancy makes a brief speech, thanking everyone for coming, before asking for another show of appreciation for the chefs. There’s no need to say too much – she’s spoken to each and every person here individually – but it’s a signal as much as anything that the evening is winding to an end. Coffee will be served shortly and I guess after that people will begin to drift away. Some will be here for a while yet, wine and conversation still flowing, but, all too soon, Theo and Esme head back to the kitchen. There is still much to do. Opening night is just the start of things – from tomorrow the restaurant will be open six days out of seven and aside from clearing up there is much to prepare in order to leave everything in readiness for another working day. But I can’t wait until Esme eventually gets home to see her and so I slip from the table.

  Laughter sounds from the kitchen threshold and I don’t even think why as I enter the room. It hadn’t occurred to me that Sam would be here now, this late in proceedings, but as I spot him I realise that it makes perfect sense. He would never appear when there was a chance of being seen publicly.

  He’s standing talking to Esme and Theo, his arm gripping his son’s shoulders as he offers his congratulations. He looks over and I see his eyes widen slightly as he takes in my dress, the slight nod he gives me causing a wave of heat to travel over my cheeks. But I’m pleased by his reaction. That’s all it takes – a moment’s appreciation – and I wish that Hugh could have put aside his petty jealousy to show me that instead of making me feel as if I’ve done something wrong.

  Nancy is there too, radiating excitement into the room, and she waves when she spies me, beckoning me forward.

  ‘Come and say hello, Alys.’ Her smile is warm and I realise she’s trying to make this easy for me, trying to show me that she really is okay with me meeting Sam.

  ‘Well, what did you think?’

  ‘Oh, Nancy, as if you have to ask,’ I reply. ‘It was amazing. All of it. The food, obviously…’ I break off to beam at Esme. ‘And the restaurant too, which looks incredible, but what also struck me is how much people were enjoying themselves, how relaxed they looked. That type of atmosphere is something you really can’t manufacture, but you have it here, there’s no doubt about that.’

  Nancy nods, thinking about what I’ve just said, and I realise she wasn’t just looking for an easy compliment, she’s genuinely interested in hearing my opinion.

  ‘I think it’s all the plants,’ she says. ‘Seriously. We’ve always said that. I think they put people in a good mood.’

  ‘You may well be right,’ I reply. ‘But whatever it is, it’s working.’

  Esme comes rushing forward. ‘Mum!’ she exclaims, before throwing her arms around me, squeezing me in a tight hug. ‘Oh my God,’ she adds breathlessly, but she can’t say anything else, she’s completely overcome.

  I rub her arm as we pull apart. ‘You’ve done amazingly,’ I reply. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

  Nancy comes forward and places an arm around Esme’s shoulders too. ‘Time for one last victory tour then, I think,’ she says, beckoning to Theo. ‘Go on you two, go and bask in the limelight a little; people will be drifting off soon and they’ll want to say goodbye.’ She shepherds them towards the restaurant like a mother hen, shooing them away before turning to me with a warm smile and a meaningful look. I know that she’s done this so that meeting Sam here is a little less awkward and I’m
touched by the kindness of her gesture.

  And then he’s walking towards me, his face lit up. ‘Aren’t they brilliant?’ he says, his eyes dancing in the bright light. ‘Hello again.’

  He looms towards me, his fingers touching the bare flesh of my arm. I’m being pulled towards him. It’s a social kiss, no more, cheek gently against cheek, one on each side…

  And that’s okay until a voice from behind startles me, its harsh sound cutting through the room.

  ‘Hello, Sam…’

  15

  The atmosphere in the room changes in an instant, as if a blast of cold air is moving past me.

  ‘Hello, Hugh,’ replies Sam, stepping out to one side. He stares at my husband, silent and motionless, as I look between them helplessly.

  Hugh’s greeting was loud, meant to be assertive, but I can see now how uncomfortable he looks. I suddenly realise that this must be the first time he’s seen Sam since his accident, seen the damage that has been wrought. And I have no idea what he’s thinking.

  Sam lifts his chin a little. ‘Well now, how do you like what you see, eh, Hugh? What’s that look for? Surprised? Horrified? Or just plain annoyed that I’m here at all?’

  I’m acutely aware of Nancy standing a matter of feet away, a look of horror on her face. My own thoughts are in disarray. Why is Sam being this way? I understand that it must be a shock meeting Hugh again, but rubbing Hugh’s nose in the way he looks isn’t fair, surely? It’s almost as if he wants him to feel bad about it.

  I look at Nancy mutely. I don’t know how to stop this. It’s already gone too far. There is something happening here that goes way beyond the meeting of two people who haven’t seen each other in twenty-odd years.

  I take a step back towards Hugh, beseeching him to keep quiet, but his face is flushed from too much champagne and I can see that he’s not going to back away from Sam’s goading.

  ‘Just stay away from my wife, okay?’