Lucy Gordon: His Pretend Wife

‘It’s not fair for you to be facing this alone,’ Daisy said, starting to pour.

‘I’m not alone while I’ve got you.’

‘I meant a feller. Someone who’s there for you. Like Hetta’s dad.’

‘The less said about Tom Landers, the better. He was a disaster. I should never have married him. And before him was my first husband, who was also a disaster. And before him…’ Elinor’s voice faded.

‘Was that one a disaster too?’

‘No, I was. He loved me. He wanted to marry me, but I threw him over. I didn’t mean to be cruel, but I was. And I broke his heart.’

‘You couldn’t help it if you didn’t love him.’

‘But I did love him,’ Elinor said softly. ‘I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my whole life, except Hetta. But I didn’t realise it then. Not for years. By then it was too late.’ Anguish racked her. ‘Oh, Daisy, I had the best any woman could have. And I threw it all away.’

There was more than one kind of ghost. Sometimes it was the other person, teasing you with memories of what might have been. But sometimes it was your own younger self, dancing ahead of you through the shadows, asking reproachfully how she’d turned into you.

To Ellie Foster, sixteen going on seventeen, life had been heaven: an impoverished kind of heaven, since there had never been money to spare in her home or those of her friends, and there had been a lot of ‘making do’. But there had been the freedom of having left school. Her mother had tried to persuade her to stay on, perhaps even go to college, but Ellie had regarded that idea with horror. Who needed boring lessons when they could work in the cosmetics department of a big store? She’d seized on the job, and had had a wage packet and a kind of independence.

Best of all, she’d been gorgeous. She’d known it without conceit because boys had never stopped following her, trying to snatch a kiss, or just looking at her like gormless puppies. That had been the most fun of all.

She’d been tall, nearly five-foot eight, with a slender, curved figure and endless legs. She’d worn her naturally blonde hair long and luxuriant, letting it flow over her shoulders. To her other blessings had been added a pair of deep blue eyes and a full mouth that had been able to suddenly beam out a brilliant smile. She’d had only to give a man that smile…

What appalled Elinor, as she looked back over the years, was her own ignorance in those days. With just a few puny weapons she’d thought she could have the universe at her feet. Who had there been to tell her otherwise? Certainly not the love-struck lads who’d followed her about, practically in a convoy.

They’d formed a little gang, Pete and Clive and Johnny, Johnny’s sister Grace, and another girl who’d tagged along because Ellie had always been the centre of the action, and being part of her entourage meant status. She’d been a natural leader, that had gone without saying. And she wouldn’t be stuck long in Markton, the featureless provincial town where she’d been born. She could be anything she wanted. A model perhaps, or a television presenter, or someone who was famous for being famous. Whatever. The cosmetics counter had only been temporary. The city lights had beckoned, and, after that, the world.

Her seventeenth birthday had been looming, and as Grace had had a birthday in the same week both sets of parents had got together and held the party at Grace’s home, which had been bigger. Ellie had a new dress for the occasion. It looked like shimmering gold and was both too sophisticated and too revealing, as her scandalised mother had protested.

‘Mum, it’s a party,’ Ellie said in a voice that settled the matter. ‘This is how people dress at parties.’

‘It’s much too low,’ her mother said flatly. ‘And too short.’

‘Well, if you’ve got it, flaunt it. I’ve got it.’

‘And you’re certainly flaunting it. In my day only a certain kind of woman dressed like that.’

Ellie collapsed laughing. The things mothers said, honestly! But she gave Mrs Foster a hug and asked kindly, ‘When you were my age, didn’t you ever flaunt it?’

‘I didn’t have it to flaunt, dear. If I’d had-well, maybe I’d have gone a bit mad, too. But then I’d have lost your father. He didn’t like girls who “displayed everything in the shop window”.’

Ellie crowed with delight. ‘You mean he was as much of a stick-in-the-mud then as he is now?’

‘Don’t be unkind about your father. He’s a very nice, kind man.’

‘How can you say that when he wanted to hold you back, stop you having fun?’

‘He didn’t. He just wanted me to have my fun with him. So did I. We loved each other. You’ll find out one day. You’ll meet the right man, and you won’t want any fun that doesn’t include him.’

‘OK, OK,’ Ellie said, not believing a word of it, but feeling good-natured. ‘I just don’t want to meet the right man until I’ve done a bit of living.’

Oh, the irony of having uttered those words, on that evening of all evenings! But she only came to see it later.

‘Let’s get to this party,’ Mrs Foster said indulgently. ‘You’re only young once.’

Ellie kissed her, delighted, though not surprised, to have got her own way again.

The party overflowed with guests, with noise and merriment. The parents hung around for the first hour, then bowed to the unmistakable hints that were being thrown at them, and departed to the peace of the pub, leaving the young people alone. Someone turned up the music. Someone else produced a bottle of strong cider. Ellie waved it away, preferring to stick to light wine. Life was more enjoyable with a clear head.

The music changed, became smoochy. In the centre of the room couples danced, not touching, because that wasn’t ‘cool’, but writhing in each other’s general direction. She beckoned to Pete and he joined her, his eyes fixed longingly on her gyrating form. She was smooth and graceful, moving as though the music were part of her.

At first she barely glimpsed the stranger in the doorway, but then a turn brought her back to face him, and she saw that he was taller than everyone else in the room, and looked a little older. He wore a shirt and jeans, which were conservative compared to the funky teenage clothes around him.

What struck her most of all was his expression, the lips quirked in a wry smile, like a man showing indulgence to children. Obviously he thought a teenage rave beneath his dignity, and that made her very annoyed.

It wouldn’t have mattered if he clearly belonged to another generation. Older people were expected to be stuffy. But he was in his twenties, too young for that slightly lofty look, she thought.

Nor would she have minded if he’d been unattractive. But for a man with those mobile, sensual lips to be above the crowd was a deadly insult. His lean features made matters worse, being slightly irregular in a way that was intriguing. His eyes were a crime too, dark, lustrous and expressive. They should be watching her, filled with admiration, instead of flickering over everyone with a hint of amusement.

‘Who’s that?’ she yelled to her partner above the music.

‘That’s Johnny’s brother, Andrew,’ he yelled back, glancing at the door. ‘He’s a doctor. We don’t see much of him here.’

Johnny was weaving his way over to his brother. Ellie couldn’t hear them through the music, but she could follow their greeting, the way Johnny indicated for Andrew to join the party, and Andrew’s grimace as he mouthed, ‘You’ve gotta be kidding.’

She followed Johnny’s reply, ‘Aw, c’mon.’

And Andrew’s dismissive, ‘Thanks, but I don’t play with children.’

Children. He might as well have shouted the word. And her response, as she later realised, was childish. She put an extra sensuousness into her writhing, which made the boys shout appreciation and the girls glare. She’d show him who was a child.