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

by Emma Davies

  ‘Okay,’ she says eventually, weighing up whether what I’ve said makes sense to her. ‘But that still doesn’t explain why Dad was accusing you of seeing him.’

  ‘No, I know. And I’m just as confused about that as you are. But that’s down to your dad and me to sort out. He has very… fixed… ideas sometimes, and I suspect this is just one of those times. I’ve been trying to do things a little differently over the last few weeks as well and your dad doesn’t always respond well to change.’

  ‘But you are different, Mum, anyone who knows you can see that. I mean, your hair for starters, you never used to leave it curly.’

  ‘You said you liked it.’

  ‘I do. It’s just so different, seeing it that way all the time. It’s just not the you I know.’

  And I suddenly see how vulnerable she is.

  ‘I’m still your mum, Esme, and I always will be. But that’s not all I am. If I’m doing things differently it’s because I want to. Because I’ve reached a point in my life where things are changing, and all I’m doing is responding to them. You’re working now, your education is behind you. You’re on your way, Esme, and you don’t need me to hold your hand any more. I’m not working at Harringtons either, and that was a big part of my life, for a very long time. So it’s making me think about things, that’s all.’

  ‘Nothing to do with Sam?’

  I smile. ‘Actually, I think it has a lot to do with Sam, but not in the way you’re fearful of. I think meeting him again has simply reminded me of my younger self, about the dreams I had, the kind of person I wanted to be. And I’m not saying I’m unhappy about the way things are now. It’s just that I can also see that now is the right time to make a few changes. And I’m simply enjoying exploring the possibilities.’

  She nods, and then smiles suddenly. ‘Jeez, Mum, classic midlife crisis…’ She stretches out her legs and yawns, and I can sense she feels that the conversation is coming to an end.

  What on earth do I do now? Do I let her just go? I return her smile, rolling my eyes. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘I still think it’s weird though,’ she adds. ‘About Sam. I mean, what are the chances of any of this happening? I like him though,’ she adds. ‘To answer your earlier question. Theo thinks he’s a bit of a prat sometimes but I think that’s just a father and son thing myself. They’re so alike, but Theo just can’t see it.’

  She pauses. ‘And it sounds awful, but I’ve never really met anyone like Sam before – you know, with so many scars and stuff. It freaked me out to start with. I wasn’t really prepared for what he would look like, but once you stop thinking about it you realise how nice he is. He makes me laugh and he does this thing where he… I don’t really know how to explain it, but when I tell him something, even when it’s to do with the business and he’ll have heard it umpteen times before, he looks at you like you’ve just discovered sliced bread. Does that make sense?’

  More than you realise, I think, sadly, as I nod.

  She’s looking at me carefully and I know what’s coming next. ‘Does Nancy know, and Theo?’

  ‘I’ve told Nancy,’ I reply. ‘I had to. Not because I didn’t want to tell you, but because as soon as I saw Sam I realised that it might cause difficulties for you. The last thing I wanted was for there to be any bad feeling between any of us. Nancy was incredibly understanding, which given her own relationship with Sam was particularly—’

  ‘Well yes, she would be, wouldn’t she? I mean she—’ Esme breaks off abruptly. ‘It’s okay, never mind. Sorry, go on, Mum.’

  ‘All I was going to say is that Nancy was lovely about the whole thing and she understood perfectly why I was concerned about you. She also agreed with me that there was no real reason for it to be a problem unless we made it one. That with Sam due to go home there would be a very small number of occasions when you would see him and—’

  Esme frowns, interrupting. ‘But he sees Theo all the time, so there’s every possibility that I’ll see Sam too. I mean, Theo and I are friends and we…’ She breaks off as her phone pings, a smile creeping over her face as she reads the message that has flashed up.

  ‘Talk of the devil,’ she says, a broad grin now on her face. She waves her phone. ‘Theo keeps getting sent more and more photos of the opening night and he passes them on. Either that or he recounts conversations he’s had with his mum. Honestly, he’s still so excited about it, he’s even worse than I am. I just about manage to calm down and then he sends me something else.’

  ‘You get on well, don’t you?’ I say, watching her reaction.

  ‘Who? Me and Theo?’ She pauses as if to think for a moment. ‘Yeah, we do, we just sort of clicked.’ A smile begins to play around her face. ‘Actually, Mum, it’s weird, I feel like we’ve known one another for years. Does that sound silly?’

  I’m glad I’m sitting down as a wave of dizziness hits me, leaving me reeling. There’s a horrible fluttery feeling in my chest as if something is trying to get out, and I have to wait several seconds before I can tell if my heart is even still beating. I stare at the floor, reminding myself to breathe.

  Esme’s still talking and I have to drag my attention back to her, but I’ve missed what she was saying.

  ‘Are you and Theo dating?’ I blurt out. I have to know.

  Esme blushes, her eyes wide. ‘No! We’re just really good friends, you know, but…’

  Esme has never been able to hide anything from me. ‘You’d like there to be more?’

  She doesn’t answer straight away, and with every tiny moment of time that passes her answer becomes even more clear. She sighs and screws up her face. ‘I dunno, Mum. I mean, it’s probably not a good idea, is it?’

  I’ve always cherished my relationship with Esme, grateful that as she’s grown older she’s still remained open and honest with me. And I’d do anything for that not to change. I never wanted to break her heart.

  I open my mouth, forcing out the words. ‘Esme, there’s something you need to know about Theo…’

  ‘What? I know he doesn’t have a girlfriend because he told me. Oh…’ She stops. ‘Well, I suppose he would, wouldn’t he?’

  I look at her sadly, at the curious smile she still wears. ‘No, it’s nothing like that.’ I draw in a breath. ‘Esme, when Sam had his accident it was a truly horrible time… things were all over the place and I… I wasn’t well. And I wasn’t thinking about anything much, only Sam, and him getting better. Everything else was on hold and…’

  I can see her expression changing, the puzzlement in her eyes. She’s wondering why I’m telling her this. Why I’m talking about Sam when I’d mentioned Theo’s name.

  ‘And so it wasn’t until after, when I’d moved, that I even began to think about how I was feeling and…’

  Her back is stiffening. She’s beginning to work it out.

  She sits forward. ‘No…’ she whispers.

  ‘I’m so sorry… Esme… I never wanted to keep this from you. But I was already pregnant. Sam never knew, he—’

  ‘Shut up!’ Esme lurches to her feet, nearly falling over me in her haste to run. ‘Just shut up!’

  ‘Esme, wait!’ I scramble to get up, clutching at her as she passes me. But I’m too late.

  She’s gone and the sound of her door slamming above my head shakes any last hope I had from my heart.

  21

  I’d forgotten what it was like. That feeling of being caught in the middle of a storm, its fury shaking everything to its very foundation. You don’t know when it’s going to end or what the trail of devastation will be when it does. And it’s just how I felt when you were in hospital.

  I would tense every time a car went past, or if there was the slightest noise from outside, a fresh wave of adrenaline setting my pulse racing and my stomach lurching in shock. It was the waiting that did it, creating a hyper-alert state that there was no respite from. Every phone call could bring news, every car might bring a visitor. Anything and everything had the p
ower to transform how I was feeling, to send my spirits soaring with hope that things would be okay, or send them plummeting with news of more setbacks, more difficulties to be faced. And it’s just the same now.

  Esme left the house two hours ago and, despite sending texts and leaving messages, I’ve heard nothing from her. I know she’ll be okay, she won’t have done anything stupid, and by now she will have arrived to begin her shift at The Green Room, but I feel helpless, adrift in the pain she must be feeling that I can do nothing to alleviate. She’s a grown adult and yet I still feel like the worst mother on the planet. You shouldn’t cause your children pain, should you? Tear their world in two? And I have no idea how to make things better.

  I think about calling Tash, confiding in her, but what would I say? It would feel like breaking a confidence; letting someone else know about Sam when Esme has only just found out. Besides, even though I know that Tash would keep it to herself if I asked her to, these things have a habit of getting out and I don’t like the thought of the rest of the family knowing. Especially not Angela with her judgemental comments; I don’t think I could cope. And imagine how much harder this would be for Esme.

  The afternoon stretches ahead of me in a seemingly never-ending number of hours to fill, and I’m grateful that Nancy’s tuxedo is giving me something to occupy my time. Every crystal and sequin I sew on has to be carefully placed so that the distribution of them is even, and with each one I complete I’m having to stop and consider where the next should go.

  So with Nancy already on my mind, it’s no real surprise when there’s a knock on the door in the middle of the afternoon and I open it to find her standing there. She takes one look at me and marches into the hallway with her arms outstretched.

  Her hug is fierce and tight and just for a few seconds I can believe everything might actually be okay. She draws away from me, a hand placed on each of my arms so that she can hold me at a distance, scrutinising my face. Her gaze is difficult to withstand but I’m grateful for it because it’s a no-nonsense face. A face that says, tell me all about it and we’ll sort this.

  She draws me into the kitchen, where she immediately walks to the window and stares out into the garden.

  ‘You know, this is such a lovely room, isn’t it? It struck me the first time I was here, but this is exactly the kind of space I’d like. Somewhere flooded with light, cosy but practical, and yet not one of those minimalist modern kitchens where you’d be afraid of putting down a teaspoon.’

  Despite myself, I laugh. ‘I think that might mean I need to tidy up a bit,’ I say, looking around at the detritus left behind by lives in motion.

  ‘Not at all,’ comes Nancy’s quick reply. ‘This is lovely just as it is. You have a very good eye.’ She gives me a sudden bright smile. ‘Actually, would you do me a favour?’ she asks.

  ‘If I can…’

  ‘Then give me a couple of hours of your time. I probably shouldn’t even be doing this, but a house has just come up on the market that could be exactly the thing I’m looking for. But I know from the agent that there’s been quite a bit of interest in it already and I don’t want to miss out. Would you come and have a look at it with me? I’d love to have your opinion.’

  Nancy is looking at me with such an expectant air of excitement that I’m finding it hard to refuse. ‘If you really think I can help, yes, of course. When’s the viewing?’

  Her response is to pull out her car keys from her pocket and dangle them in front of me, grinning. ‘Now?’ she replies. ‘Or rather, if we leave now, it will be perfect timing.’

  I look around the room, at my sewing strewn across the table, at my dirty mug on the side. And I have no idea whether I’ve even brushed my hair or put on any lipstick.

  ‘Where are we even going?’ I ask, collecting my handbag from the cupboard under the stairs, enjoying the fact that I don’t even care.

  ‘The seaside,’ declares Nancy, triumphantly. ‘Apart from anything, a healthy dollop of ozone will do you the world of good.’

  I stare after her as she walks back out into the hallway, following in a daze. I don’t even look back as I pull the door closed behind me.

  Moments later we’re bombing along in Nancy’s bright-red sports car, expertly cutting through the traffic in town. She keeps up a constant stream of inconsequential chatter until we’re out onto the coast road where the traffic is thinner and the sky suddenly wide. She gives a heartfelt sigh.

  ‘Ah, that’s better, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘The sun and the open road… nothing like it. I feel more relaxed already.’

  I look at her sideways, amused by her behaviour. It’s been very clear to me since the moment she arrived at our house that Nancy is well aware of both the state I’m in, and the cause of it. She might not know all the details, but she knows enough, and yet, apart from the comment about the seaside air, she hasn’t made any mention of it. She turns slightly, catching my look.

  ‘All in good time,’ she says, turning back to look at the road, and I’m left under no illusion as to what she’s referring.

  I sit back and let the scenery slide past me.

  ‘So tell me about this house then,’ I say. ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘The last piece of the jigsaw hopefully,’ she replies, throwing me a mysterious glance. ‘Other than that, it’s not overly big, and it’s old, but I don’t know much more. I have a contact at the estate agency but they told me to ignore the details and just look at it with an open mind,’ she explains.

  ‘Odd,’ I comment.

  ‘Not really,’ she replies. ‘They know me quite well.’

  She smiles and once again I’m left feeling as if there’s something in Nancy’s words which goes far beyond what she’s actually saying.

  The rest of the journey is almost silent, but I don’t mind. It’s companionable instead of awkward and I’m actually quite enjoying being out and about, a change from my usual routine. Strangely, things don’t seem so oppressive away from the house. And I suspect that this has been Nancy’s intention all along.

  Fifteen minutes later as we glimpse the sea, Nancy pulls off the road and follows a much smaller lane inland for a mile or so. Shortly after, the sight of two gateposts signifies that we’ve arrived at our destination. The entrance is tight but Nancy navigates it skilfully, and passes through onto a driveway which sweeps away to our right. At the end is a small flint-stone cottage, nestled among the trees which surround it. I give her a cautious look because at first glance it seems far too small for anything she would require.

  She fishes in the pocket of the car door and pulls out a set of keys, holding them aloft. ‘Shall we go and have a look?’

  I look at the cheeky expression on her face. ‘Nancy, just how well do you know this estate agent?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh, quite well,’ she says airily and climbs from the car.

  As we approach I realise that the drive has actually brought us to the rear of one side of the cottage and, skirting around to the front, I can see that it’s actually much bigger than it looks. I’m shading my eyes from the sun, trying to sort out the jumble of windows and doors, when a flash of something catches my eye. I walk forward together with Nancy onto a lawned area bordered by tall shrubs, and it’s there that I realise the silvery spark I saw is actually the glint of sunlight on water. Spread below us, in a sweeping semicircle, is the sea, fringed by a perfect strip of sand.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Nancy almost punches the air. ‘I was told to expect the unexpected, and wow… Just look at that!’

  I spin around, trying to orientate myself, but still not quite able to work out how the sea can now be so close in front of us. I’m speechless.

  Nancy gives a gleeful shriek and sets off towards the house, leaving me trailing in her wake.

  And the sea view is not the only thing that’s surprising about the house. We’re ten minutes into our tour of the ground floor when Nancy pulls open another door, probably expecting to find more reception rooms. What lies ahead, h
owever, is a short corridor with a window either side, and beyond that another kitchen. She looks quizzically at me before suddenly stopping dead. She races through the kitchen to the room on the other side.

  ‘It’s two,’ she shouts. ‘Alys, come and look. It’s two cottages… joined together… Oh my God, this is perfect!’

  ‘So, come on,’ says Nancy a little while later. ‘Honestly, what did you think?’

  We’re sitting on a bench at the end of the garden, looking out to the sparkling blue bay in the distance. Nancy is beaming from ear to ear and it’s very clear to see how she feels.

  ‘Do you need to ask?’ I reply. ‘Although… do you really need two cottages? They’re both beautiful but how will you join them together? It doesn’t look like it would be that easy.’

  But Nancy smiles. ‘It’s very simple,’ she replies. ‘Because I’m not going to.’

  I give her a quizzical look. ‘But why?’

  She puts a finger to the side of her nose in response. ‘Never mind that for a minute,’ she says. ‘What about the cottages themselves, what did you think to those?’

  I don’t even need to think about it. I’d live here in a second. ‘Beautiful,’ I reply. ‘Light, airy, but incredibly homely too. If I could I’d put my slippers on right now and curl up with a book in the chair by the window. And those fireplaces…’

  Nancy nods. ‘They were lovely, weren’t they?’

  She looks so incredibly happy that I reach out my hand to give hers a squeeze.

  ‘Yes, I think this will do very nicely, very nicely indeed…’ She turns to me. ‘Now all I have to do is convince your daughter not to leave.’

  My mouth drops open. The conversation has turned so quickly and in the excitement I’d actually forgotten about this morning’s events. ‘Esme?’

  ‘Hmm. Didn’t I say? She handed her notice in this morning.’ Nancy squeezes my hand in return. ‘She doesn’t mean it, of course. She was upset, anyone could see that. No, not thinking straight at all. So when I knew I was coming here, I hopped in the car to fetch you. I thought a different environment might make it easier for you to tell me what’s happened. Much more so than at home.’