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

by Emma Davies

‘Oh? I hadn’t realised he’d be there. I wouldn’t have thought it was his kind of thing.’

  Nancy grins. ‘What, a room full of empowered women? You may well be right.’ She wrinkles her nose and I get the feeling she’s weighing up whether to say something or not. ‘Actually, he’s coming to support me… Saturday is going to be a little… bigger… than I’d first anticipated.’

  ‘How come?’ I ask, as I fold up the jacket carefully and lay it on the table. ‘Have you got some bigwig reporters coming in to cover the story?’

  ‘No, nothing like that… Just…’ She comes to a halt. ‘I tell you what. How about I keep it as a surprise?’ She laughs. ‘I’m such a tease.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ I say, holding out my hand for the trousers that Nancy is still wearing. ‘I’m looking forward to it though. I can’t wait to see you in your tux, you’re going to look amazing. And I promise not to bring Hugh. A room full of empowered women is definitely not his kind of thing.’

  She gives me a sympathetic look. ‘Under the circumstances, that might be for the best.’

  I nod. I’m no more looking forward to seeing a repeat performance between Sam and Hugh than she is. And Hugh still doesn’t know I’ve told Sam about Esme. A sudden shiver ripples down my spine. I really don’t want to think about what his reaction is going to be.

  Nancy is still looking at me, an amused look on her face, and then she undoes the button and zip on her trousers and slips out of them in one smooth movement, handing them over with a cheeky grin.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘You’ll be able to meet the new love of my life on Saturday too,’ she says, pulling her own top back on.

  I wait until her head is free from it. ‘Nancy Carmichael. You dark horse, you. Why didn’t you say? Oh, what’s he like? Tall, dark and handsome?’

  She waggles a finger at me. ‘Nuh-uh. No details,’ she says. ‘I want it to be a surprise, so I’ll save all that until you meet.’

  She yanks her jeans back on, glancing at the clock as she does so. ‘Oh God, is that the time? I’d better run.’ She leans forward to kiss me. ‘Thank you so much, Alys. I can’t believe that you’ve actually made me a tuxedo. It’s going to look incredible.’

  ‘I think it will. And you’re happy to have all the crystals and whatnot, as we discussed?’

  ‘Oh, yes! The more the merrier. I want to sparkle.’ Her eyes light up and she flashes me a huge smile. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ She fishes in the pocket of her jeans, pulling out a scrap of paper. ‘This is for you. It’s Sam’s number.’

  I stare at the slip in her hand. A row of eleven numbers, neatly written, so innocuous and yet so dangerous.

  ‘I figured you might have need of it sometime. You know, just in case…’

  She’s already walking towards the door, where she stops to blow me a kiss. ‘Speak soon,’ she says. ‘And Alys… talk to Esme.’

  I stare at the empty space Nancy has left in my kitchen, wondering why on earth I can’t be more like her. She doesn’t let obstacles stand in her way, and it’s obvious she’s had just as many things to contend with. She’s had a long-term relationship break down for one. But even though she’s confided in me before that she’d had a few things to resolve, it’s obvious just by looking at her that she’s done exactly that. And now she looks fabulous.

  I look down at my baggy top and shapeless linen trousers. I’m not saying I want to wear things that are tighter, but I could at least wear something that fits. So I bought a nice dress, so what? It was one drop in a huge ocean of opportunities missed. The slip of paper with Sam’s number on it is still clutched in my hand and I lay it thoughtfully on the table. An opportunity missed? Or one yet to explore? I wonder…

  I find my phone under a pile of letters on the side and pick it up decisively. If I don’t do this now I’ll start work on Nancy’s jacket and kid myself I’m too busy to stop.

  The call is answered just when I think it’s going to cut to answerphone.

  ‘Alys, hi… Is everything all right?’

  ‘Hi, Tash, yes fine. Listen, I’m sorry to ring you while you’re working, but I wondered if you’re still running those aqua fit classes at the leisure centre?’

  ‘Yeah, tonight… Hang on a sec.’ She breaks off and I hear her say something in the background. ‘Sorry… Yes, on tonight at seven thirty. Every Monday. Or there’s one on a Friday afternoon for the over-sixties if you’re interested.’ I hear the smile in her voice.

  ‘That might be more appropriate given how unfit I am. But could I just come along tonight if I wanted to? I don’t have to have pre-booked or anything?’

  ‘No, just turn up. Don’t tell me you’re actually going to take my advice, Alys? See, my nagging does pay off. But do come, they’re great sessions, you’ll really enjoy it. And you’ll feel amazing afterwards, I promise.’

  I look at Nancy’s jacket. ‘Right. I’ll be there, seven thirty.’

  I end the call and pick up Sam’s number from the table, folding the slip of paper in half and stashing it in my pocket. Because I’ve realised what Sam’s number is. It’s a reminder of how I used to be. The curly-haired girl who thought she had the world at her feet.

  It’s still reasonably early when I get in, only a little after nine. I think Tash would have liked to have gone for a drink after the class and it was tempting, the evening is still warm and mellow, but although we chatted a little about my visit to see Becky at the National Trust, I told her I needed to get home. There are things that Hugh and I need to discuss and although I would have loved to confide in her, it wouldn’t be right. She’s family, and just a little too close for comfort right now. I need to sort out things with Hugh first. He’s been particularly quiet since our conversation the other day and I’m under no impression that it’s going to be easy. But I have to try. Every day that passes sends my guilt levels even higher.

  But the kitchen is empty when I enter the house, and my call of greeting is met with silence. My note is still on the side where I left it, along with the dinner I’d made sure I prepared for Hugh before I left. It was in the fridge and all he’d had to do was reheat it. But now it’s been abandoned in the warm kitchen, uncovered and spoiled. It makes me far crosser than it ought to, but it’s as if it’s been left there to make a point and I’m suddenly tired of my husband’s moods.

  A quick tour of the house confirms that he isn’t home and, returning to the kitchen, I dump the untouched food in the bin. He hasn’t had the decency to let me know where he is, but I can guess. His stomach will have got the better of him and, as his car is still in the drive and the local pub only five minutes’ walk away, no doubt he’s sitting in the beer garden tucking into steak and chips. That’s all I need. The possibility of a sensible conversation is slipping further and further away from me.

  I throw my swimming costume and towel into the washing machine and make myself some toast before sitting down to carry on with the embellishment of Nancy’s tuxedo. It’s nearer half past ten by the time I hear Hugh rattling the back door.

  Whether he imagined I’d be in bed by the time he returned I don’t know, but he looks surprised to see me as he lurches a little unsteadily into the kitchen.

  ‘I didn’t expect you to be home yet,’ he says, his face glistening with perspiration. It’s still a warm evening.

  I get up and fill the kettle with water, setting it to boil. ‘Didn’t you? Oh, I think I said in my note I’d be home between nine and half past.’

  Hugh opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. His tie is still around his neck, at half mast, and he pulls it off, dropping it on the side by the cooker. ‘Where have you been?’ he asks, narrowing his eyes at the mess on the table.

  ‘Hugh, did you even read my note?’

  ‘I read it, yeah.’

  I keep my voice light. ‘Okay, so you know I’ve been out with Tash then.’

  ‘That’s what it said, certainly.’

  I ignore him. ‘Would you like a coffee?’
I ask. ‘Or tea? Perhaps it’s a bit late for coffee.’

  He takes a couple of steps towards me. ‘What I’d like is an explanation. Of where you’ve been this evening. Or would you like me to guess?’

  I had hoped that Hugh’s steak and chips had been accompanied by a long, cool drink of Coke or something similar, but it would seem I was wrong. I wonder just how many pints he’s had.

  ‘Tash was working tonight,’ adds Hugh. ‘I checked.’

  Anger begins to unfurl within me. How dare he? It’s bad enough that he could even think I’m guilty of what he’s implying, but now he’s involved my brother-in-law too, and Tash when she finds out. Which she will.

  ‘I know Tash was working tonight, Hugh, because that’s where I’ve been, to one of her aqua fit classes at the leisure centre. It started at seven thirty, and ran for an hour. I got changed afterwards, and then helped carry her equipment out to the car. We chatted for a little while and then I drove the fifteen-minute journey home. I got back here about ten past nine, which you would know if you’d been here.’

  I throw a teabag into a mug and pour boiling water on it. ‘And do you know what’s really sad, Hugh? That I didn’t want to tell you what I was doing tonight because I knew you’d make fun of me. Or tell me why you didn’t think I should bother going.’

  ‘Well I don’t, you look fine to me.’

  ‘But what about me, Hugh? What about how I feel? I don’t feel fine. I feel frumpy and flabby, and just once it would be really nice if you could support me in trying to improve myself rather than mock me for it.’

  ‘Which is all very convenient, isn’t it? Given that your desire for self-improvement seems to have coincided with Sam’s return to the scene.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Hugh.’ I prod his tea viciously, fishing out the bag and dropping it in the sink. It makes me even madder that all the while he’s accusing me of spending a wild evening with Sam, what am I doing? Making him a bloody cup of tea. ‘You know, maybe all this has coincided with seeing Sam again, but perhaps it’s just because it’s reminded me what I was like when I was younger. When I had hopes and dreams instead of settling for the faded version of myself I don’t even recognise.’

  ‘Oh, I see, and that’s my fault too, is it?’

  ‘Yes, maybe it is! When have you ever supported any idea I had? Any thought about anything. You always have the better idea, even down to what I wear for goodness’ sake. Everything in my life is a compromise, Hugh, everything. In fact, some of it isn’t even a compromise, I just put up with what you want because I get fed up of arguing, of trying to make my opinion heard, knowing that you’re just going to bat it to one side. But I’m unhappy, Hugh. I’m forty-eight years of age and I have no control over my life and no idea where it’s going. And all you can see is me doing the wrong thing again. Has it never occurred to you that I might be doing all this for you too? For us.’

  Hugh doesn’t look convinced, but he is at least listening.

  ‘It can’t be a good thing having one person in our marriage unhappy, can it? And whilst it might not happen straight away, we’ll have an empty nest soon, and so maybe we should use this opportunity to plan how we want the rest of our lives to be instead of just complacently allowing them to roll along.’ I pause for a moment, marshalling my thoughts. ‘I didn’t want to tell you this before because I wasn’t certain it would come to anything, but I’ve applied for another job.’

  Hugh narrows his eyes. ‘I see, and you’ve been successful, have you? Is that it?’

  ‘Not exactly, no.’ I briefly explain about the conservation work. ‘So you see, although it’s voluntary to start with, in a few months’ time there’s every possibility that I’ll be earning again and—’ I come to a halt. It’s been on the tip of my tongue to mention my redundancy money, the fact that I know everything that Hugh has been keeping from me. But his belligerent expression confirms that telling him tonight would be disastrous. ‘It’s something I really want to do,’ I finish instead. ‘It was all I ever wanted to do, actually, you know that. And now for the life of me I can’t think why I didn’t.’

  ‘There seem to be rather a lot of things you’re doing without telling me just lately, Alys.’

  There’s such a supercilious look on his face that I want to slap him. But I can’t say a single word. He’s a fine one to talk, but how can I throw his comment back in his face without incriminating myself? I haven’t exactly been truthful. In fact, I’m as bad as he is right now.

  ‘So are you going to tell me where you’ve really been tonight?’

  Hugh’s words cut across my thoughts, his snide expression goading me. Too late I realise that he’s had a lot more to drink than I first thought.

  ‘I told you, I’ve been to one of Tash’s fitness classes,’ I reply. ‘You can ring and ask her if you want.’

  ‘And what good would that do? She’ll only tell me what I want to hear.’

  My thoughts are hurling themselves around my brain. I’m desperately trying to think of something to defuse the situation and then it comes to me.

  ‘Look, I’ve even got my costume here,’ I say, crossing to the utility room and taking my wet things out of the washing machine. ‘I might hang them on the line. They can stay out overnight, it won’t hurt.’

  I’m desperate to put some space between us so that Hugh can calm down. In a flash I’m through the conservatory and out into the garden, where I take my time to peg out my costume and towel. It’s late now, the garden illuminated only by the lights of the house, and I gulp in the still warm air, scented with the stocks that fill the border under the conservatory window. If I can just get Hugh to believe what I’m saying now it will all be okay. Stay calm and don’t react to his accusations with anything other than logic. He can have a cup of tea and sleep off the alcohol and tomorrow I can think more clearly about what I’m going to do. My conscience might be laden with guilt but I remind myself that, whatever he thinks, I am not having an affair. I brighten my expression and close the conservatory doors behind me, relocking them. There are footsteps behind me as I fiddle with the side of the door which always sticks.

  ‘So you see, like I said, the pool is the only place I’ve been tonight. I certainly haven’t been out with Sam and I promise I’m not having an affair with him. Why would I want to, when I love you?’

  I give the key one final jiggle, feeling it slide around, and then I turn, a smile ready on my face.

  Silhouetted in the doorway to the kitchen is Esme. ‘What’s going on, Mum?’

  I can feel my face draining of colour. There’s no way she wouldn’t have heard what I said, and I can see from her expression that she has.

  ‘Esme, crikey, is that the time? Have you had a good evening, love? Busy though, I bet.’

  But she ignores me.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she says again. ‘Who were you talking about?’

  I glance anxiously past her to Hugh who is leaning nonchalantly against the work surface, one leg draped casually over the other at the ankle. His expression is almost amused – you got yourself into this mess, it says, you get yourself out of it. He isn’t going to help me at all. I look back at Esme, my mouth open.

  ‘Oh, just someone we know… Someone at work.’ I nod at Hugh, willing him to agree. Maybe Esme didn’t hear exactly what I said. Maybe if we’re just vague…

  ‘No, you weren’t,’ she says, looking first at me and then at Hugh. ‘You said the name Sam… Who did you mean?’

  I can see she’s trying to work it out. Running the name through her head, checking the possibilities. But there’s only one person she knows called Sam. Her eyes widen.

  ‘Yes, good question, isn’t it?’ says Hugh, in response.

  She looks back at me. ‘Sam, as in Theo’s dad?’ she asks.

  ‘Esme, listen… Wait a minute…’ I put out a hand towards her. ‘It isn’t what it sounds like. Your dad and I were just…’ But I break off. I can’t tell her we were arguing, it’ll make thi
ngs seem even worse. I’m caught between the two of them. What on earth can I say?

  Esme takes a step backward, a look of horror crossing her face. ‘Oh my God,’ she says, slowly. ‘It is, it’s Theo’s dad… And you’re having an affair?’

  ‘No! Esme, I’m not, I promise you. It’s nothing like that.’

  But she’s shaking her head. ‘You are,’ she says. ‘It all makes sense now. Your hair, the new dress…’ Her hand is over her mouth. ‘But you don’t even know him. Christ, it’s only been what, three weeks?’

  Hugh lets out a snort of derision.

  I stare at him, my own horror mounting. My head is screaming, Hugh don’t do this. Please don’t do this.

  Hugh opens his mouth.

  Not in front of Esme.

  Not now.

  Please.

  ‘Oh, she knows him all right,’ he says. ‘She’s known him for years. And what a happy coincidence this has turned out to be. You get your dream job. And your mother gets her dream man back again. After all these years.’

  Esme’s face begins to crumple. ‘I don’t know what you mean, Dad. Mum, what’s going on?’ She’s close to tears.

  ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. I promise you. I’ll explain… But let’s just…’ I need to get her out of the kitchen. Away from Hugh. I have no idea what he’s going to say next and I can’t let her find out like this. It’s too cruel. ‘Let’s just go upstairs, Esme, I can explain.’

  Hugh uncrosses his legs, and stands upright, holding onto the counter tops for balance. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you, Esme, but your mother and Sam were once married.’ He gives me a triumphant look, which rapidly turns to puzzlement as Esme’s breath shudders into a sob.

  And with one final heartbreaking look, she flees the kitchen.

  For a second it feels as if there’s a vacuum in the room, sucking everything inside of it. I can’t breathe. There’s no air, no nothing. Hugh deflates like a slowly leaking balloon, suddenly and finally struck by the enormity of what he’s done.

  I cross the distance between us until I’m only inches away from him. ‘You bastard,’ I say. ‘You stupid, stupid bastard.’