The Other Woman

by Jane Green

  “So who is he, then?”

  Sally rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you didn’t see Whispers in the Dark.”

  “Well of course I saw Whispers in the Dark,” I say. “Didn’t everyone? Why, was he in it?”

  “Not in it,” Sally says, as the footsteps of Fran and Marcus clunk down the staircase. “He produced it.”

  “Oh, right,” I say with a shrug. Marcus and Fran are just walking back into the kitchen when I spot a broad-shouldered man with messy hair.

  “Are you two okay?” Fran asks, dashing over to the oven to rescue the soup that is bubbling over the edge of the pot. “We’re not being terribly organized today, I’m afraid. Oh, do you know Charlie?”

  “Hi, Charlie, I’m Sally.” Sally sashays over with arm extended.

  “Nice to meet you.” His smile is warm and friendly, his handshake firm, and Sally is instantly smitten, gazing at him even as he disengages and introduces himself to me. And okay, she does seem to have good taste in this instance. He’s very ordinary until he smiles, but when he smiles his entire face changes, and I have to say I am rather taken aback. When he turns away, I wink approval surreptitiously at Sally and give her a discreet thumbs-up, and she grins, and then he looks at us and we both pretend to be busy admiring the kitchen tiles.

  “Where are the kids?” I ask when drinks have been handed round and everyone has been given a role in putting the meal together.

  “Outside.” Fran gestures her head toward the garden as I splutter in amazement.

  “Outside? Are you nuts? But it’s January. It’s freezing!”

  Fran shrugs and rolls her eyes. “You try telling that to twin four-year-old girls. They insisted.”

  I move over to the window to watch two mini-Michelin men, bundled up in orange and scarlet puffa jackets, chase each other laughing around the garden.

  “I wish my son would insist on going outside in winter,” Charlie volunteers. “Or any time of year for that matter. He’s a TV addict, which would be fine, if slightly antisocial, if he were older, but for a five-year-old it’s rather worrying.”

  “It would be more worrying if he were watching Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” Marcus says, drying up a casserole dish.

  “No, far more worrying if he were watching Tom and Jerry,” Fran says. “I cannot believe how violent that show is.”

  “But we watched it growing up and we turned out all right,” Marcus says.

  “Yes, but still.” Fran shakes her head. “We know far more about child psychology now than our parents did, and few of us want to make the same mistakes.”

  “Is Tom and Jerry really that awful?” Up until now I’ve always felt completely out of my depth in conversations about children, or indeed about any child-related subject, but now that I’m about to get married, now that I’m secretly growing a child of my own, I feel perfectly qualified to join in, to ask questions, hell, to even offer opinions, if it comes to that.

  “Who knows?” says Marcus. “But I was regularly smacked as a child, and I don’t know a single person who would smack his child now.”

  “I’ve smacked Finn,” Charlie admits slowly, grimacing as he speaks, knowing he’s saying something so politically incorrect this may be the last time he’s ever invited here.

  “No!” The whole room turns to stare at him, eyes wide, mouths open in shock.

  “Yes. I know. It was awful and I swear I felt worse than he did, but he knew he wasn’t allowed to draw on the walls, and he watched us, even as we said no, and picked up the felt-tips and did it anyway.”

  “Do you really feel it warranted smacking?” Fran asks.

  “It’s the only time I’ve done it, and yes, I felt that at that particular time it did warrant it, but I’d like to think it’s a last resort, and not something that is ever done out of anger.”

  “I can see your point,” Fran says diplomatically. “It’s just that I’ve never needed to with the girls. Maybe if they did something incredibly disobedient I might.”

  “Nah, you wouldn’t,” Marcus laughs. “You’d sooner smack me than smack the girls.”

  Fran smacks him.

  “Ow! See?” Marcus rubs his arm and gives Fran a fake wounded look.

  Sally turns to Charlie Dutton. “Do you have any more children?” she asks in her politest voice as I try to suppress a smile, knowing full well that Sally probably knows everything about Charlie Dutton, had doubtless spent Friday afternoon Googling him instead of working on the launch of the new Calden.

  “Nope. Just Finn.”

  “So where is Finn today?” Sally still fishing.

  “It’s his mother’s weekend this weekend. Shame, because he loves Annabel and Sadie.”

  Fran turns from the stove. “Not to rub it in, Charlie, but when the girls asked who was coming and I told them Finn’s daddy, they got so excited because they thought Finn was coming.”

  Charlie shrugs, an air of sadness about him that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. “One of the problems of divorce. It’s just so awful for the kids, and so difficult to plan anything when their bloody mother announces last-minute changes in plan.”

  Fran breaks into the awkward silence that threatens to follow by clapping her hands and ordering everyone to the table, then opening one of the French doors and calling the girls in from the garden.

  The girls are immaculately behaved. They sit, side by side, on a bench at one end of the table and pick at their food while giggling together over jokes that none of the adults could even dream of understanding.

  Fran and Marcus laugh, and bicker, and contradict each other, and I just sit and bask in all of it, so happy to be back here, so relieved that these lunches haven’t changed during my absence, and I realize I haven’t laughed this much in what feels like ages. Charlie attempts to join in our discussion, even though he is being monopolized more and more by Sally, but it looks like the fix-up is going well, and by the end of the meal there’s a definite chemistry between them, which is lovely, and well deserved.

  And then the plates are cleared and a lemon meringue pie (“Don’t ask.” Fran rolls her eyes yet again. “It’s the girls’ favorite…”) has been set on the table, and Charlie, whom I’ve barely spoken to, turns to me.

  “So Marcus tells me there’ll be wedding bells for you in a few weeks. Are you excited?”

  I pause for a second. Excited? It barely seems to encompass what I’ve been going through for what feels like months now. Nervous? Yes. Apprehensive? Absolutely. Stressed beyond belief? Most definitely.

  But excited?

  “This is going to sound crazy, but frankly this whole thing has become so immense and so overwhelming, I don’t think I’ve had a chance to become excited.”

  “And,” Fran interjects on my behalf, “Ellie has the future mother-in-law from hell who basically thinks it’s her wedding. Not that we’d know anything about mothers-in-law from hell,” she says with a sideways glance at her husband, who frowns.

  “I thought you and my mother were getting on famously these days,” Marcus says, slicing the pie.

  “Famously? Ha! Let’s say we can just about bear one another. Anyway, no talking about toxic in-laws. We decided a long time ago that was a taboo subject in this house.”

  “Well, you brought it up,” Charlie grins.

  “I know. And thanks a lot. Did you ever want to be invited back?”

  Sally and I help to clear the table as the men take the twins down to the local park. Sally bombards Fran with questions about Charlie, and when she finally takes a break to go to the bathroom, both of us watch her leave, shaking our heads and smiling.

  “She is a lost cause, you know,” I sigh, “but at least he seems like a nice guy.”

  “I know. He’s not the problem, she is. It’s yet another heartbreak waiting to happen, but what could I do? She practically begged me for an introduction.”

  “I’ve missed this.” I look around the kitchen, at its antiqued yellow cabinets and bright orange Le
Creuset pots stacked up on shelves, the perfect heart of the happy family home. “I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve been here, and I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve got Dan’s family to think of now.”

  “Oh, God. Don’t remind me.”

  “You know what? Once you have children, it will all change. You just keep your eyes on the prize. This is what it’s all about, creating your own family. Trust me, I learned the hard way, but none of them matter, parents, in-laws, any of them, not once you have a family of your own. This is what’s important, this is what allows you to put up with the rest of the shit.”

  “So you’re telling me I should get pregnant?” I grin, not sure I can keep it to myself for much longer.

  “Just as soon as you’ve stepped off that aisle. There’s nothing you want to tell me, is there?” Fran gives me that narrow-eyed look again, and I falter, about to say no, when she squeals and throws her arms around me. “I knew it! I knew it!” she says, hugging me, and now it’s too late.

  “Shh,” I warn, delighted that I can finally share it with someone. “I’m only a few weeks, so we’re not telling anyone yet.”

  “Don’t worry.” She places her hand solemnly on her heart and then throws her arms around me again. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

  8

  I peer round the living-room doorway at the gang of people amassed to toast us and wish us good luck with our wedding, only two days away now, and I smile at how much I am enjoying seeing my flat filled with people and noise.

  I have always been so solitary, such a loner, and never knew just what I was missing in not forming close friendships. I love that I have been able to adopt Dan’s friends, and that a whole new world has opened up for me in the process.

  Lily sits on the sofa, Tom on the floor between her legs. Anna is on Rob’s lap in the oversized armchair. Richard, Dan’s brother, is also on the floor, back resting against the sofa, and Dan is on the other chair, beer in hand, bare feet resting on the coffee table.

  “Can you believe you’re getting married in less than a week?” Lily gets up and comes to join me in the kitchen, elbowing me out of the way as she starts to wash up the discarded pots and pans.

  I laugh, because it still feels so unreal, and yet there are times, like today, when I feel that Dan and I are already married, have been married for years. Perhaps this is how you know when you’ve met your partner, perhaps it is exactly this level of comfort that assures you they must be, after all, the one, because I have never had this with anyone else.

  I scrape the last of the food into the garbage can and place the plates gently in the sink. “It feels very strange. In the beginning I spent so much time focusing on the day itself, the party, that I didn’t even think about the commitment, and now that”—I raise my eyebrows—“my mother-in-law has taken over all the arrangements, all I can think about is the commitment.” I look to the doorway and lower my voice. “And frankly I’m terrified.” Anna walks in to join us, and they both laugh, as do I, to soften the effect of the words.

  “Seriously,” I continue, “I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m making the right choice, that Dan is absolutely the right man for me, but it still freaks me out that this is it. No more men. No more flings. The same man for, what? Forty, fifty years?”

  “Oh, God,” groans Lily. “Don’t put it like that; you make it sound horrific,” and we all laugh.

  “Do you think the men think the same thing?” Anna asks. “Do you think they think about it?”

  “Probably,” Lily says. “My biggest worry was getting rid of the exes.”

  “They were still hanging around?” I look at Lily, surprised.

  “Tom was still best friends with two of them. I had to put a stop to that!” she laughs, then looks at me. “What about Dan?”

  “It was never an issue,” I say, which it wasn’t, but even if he had still been friendly with his exes, I’m not sure it would have been a problem for me, jealousy never having been something I’ve suffered from.

  I know he’s in touch with Sophia, his girlfriend from the university and the couple of years afterward, but she is married herself and living in Spain, and when she sends the odd e-mail he reads it aloud to me. Nothing to worry about there.

  And there were the obligatory flings through his twenties, and a three-year relationship that ended a couple of years ago because he just couldn’t see himself spending the rest of his life with her, and, a few months before meeting me, Lainey, who had run off with the actor.

  Everyone, by the time he or she hits the thirties, has a history, and it never bothered me. I would have been more worried if he’d never had a long relationship.

  “He’s only in touch with one of his exes,” I say. “Sophia, but they went out together years ago and she lives abroad. It doesn’t bother me at all. Quite honestly I’m happy he’s had long relationships. At least it shows he’s a person who knows how to commit.”

  Anna leans back against the kitchen worktop. “I never ever thought about the commitment when I married Rob. Past or present. I was so caught up in the wedding I don’t think I even realized it was real until we were back from the honeymoon.”

  Lily grins. “So you’re one of those girls that I keep reading about who just gets married for the sake of getting married?”

  “I suppose,” Anna says. “Just thank God it all worked out.”

  “How long have you two been together?” I venture.

  “Together six years, married four.”

  I’m surprised. Most of the people I know who have been married for longer than two years have at least one child by now. “I didn’t realize it was so long,” I say diplomatically. “Have you thought about planning a family at all?”

  “I think we’re probably ready now. There was so much we wanted to do first, but we’ve pretty much gone to all the places we wanted to go to, stayed in all the hotels we wanted to stay in, so we’ll probably start trying soon. Lily’s my inspiration.” She looks at Lily, who laughs self-deprecatingly. “What about you, Ellie? Any plans?”

  Oh, it’s so bloody hard to keep this a secret, and every time someone asks this question—which seems to be averaging out at about nine times a day—I have to fight the urge to tell them, and I can’t help wondering whether they’ve already guessed.

  Because, just for the record, I’m huge. Seriously. I can’t believe how enormous I feel. I had my final fitting last week for the wedding dress and even the saleswoman was surprised.

  “Oh,” she had said, frowning. “Most of our brides lose weight before their weddings,” and I had just glared at her as she made some adjustments to loosen the fit.

  And Dan has pointed out that I keep stroking my stomach. Absentmindedly while queuing for a sandwich, standing in front of the bathroom mirror at work to reapply my lipstick, lounging on the sofa trying to read while Dan watches his beloved football or rugby. Each time I touch my stomach I can’t help but make the connection to the growing life inside me.

  But I can’t tell these girls. Not yet. Not until after the honeymoon.

  “We both want a family,” I say, “but we haven’t really sat down and talked about when exactly. In the abstract I’m definitely ready, but I know I don’t have any idea quite how your life changes with kids.”

  “It does change, and it is a huge adjustment,” says Lily, “but I can’t ever envisage not having the kids now; they’re just the center of our world.”

  “Which is why you didn’t bring them with you last Saturday when we had lunch?” Anna laughs innocently.

  “Trust me, that was for the grandparents. Their one day a week with the kids.”

  “Are they your parents or Tom’s?” I ask.

  “Tom’s. Mine still live in Yorkshire, but Tom’s are so close that we try to drop them off at some point every weekend. As much as we love them, it’s lovely to have a break every now and then.”

  “What are Tom’s parents like?”
>
  “Great,” Lily says. “I couldn’t have wished for nicer in-laws.”

  Anna and I groan simultaneously.

  “I know,” Lily laughs. “That’s the reaction I get from everyone, but really, they’re incredibly sweet. They love the kids and they love me. Actually, I would count Sandra, my mother-in-law, as one of my friends.”

  “Okay,” Anna says, “so what’s the secret?”

  “Honestly? I think it’s just acceptance. Rather than trying to make each other into something she’s not, or wishing each was something, or someone, else, I think we just accept one another as is, and it works.”

  “Clearly,” Anna says through gritted teeth, “you’re a much nicer person than I am.”

  “I hate to say it,” I add, “but I have to agree with Anna. I don’t think I could be nearly as tolerant as you.”

  Lily shrugs. “All I tried to do was find a way to make it work.”

  “Make what work?” Richard walks into the kitchen. “Any chocolate in this house, Ellie?”

  “Of course.” I smile, knowing my future brother-in-law’s penchant for sweet things. “Would I really be the kind of woman your brother would be marrying if I didn’t have a constant supply of chocolate?” I walk triumphantly to a cupboard and open it to reveal boxes of Aeros, Kit Kats, Double Deckers.

  Richard puts a hand to his heart. “Ellie, I never realized this but I think you’re a woman after my own heart.”

  I smile, warmed by the flattery. “Take a load into the other room,” I say, as Richard helps himself.

  “So what are you women talking about in here?” he asks, before he walks out of the doorway, and Anna, without thinking, says, “Evil mothers-in-law.”

  “Oh?” Richard turns around and raises an eyebrow at me as I stand there feeling the flush rise, completely mortified, but to my surprise Richard isn’t taken aback by it, he just says coolly, “So you’ve discovered the evilness of my mother, then?”