Elizabeth Buchan - The Second Wife aka Wives Behaving Badly

‘Sometimes you sound like Nathan,’ I remarked.

At that, she flinched and reflected for a moment. ‘But Nathan would have asked what could be more important than supporting your sons at sports day’ She shaded her eyes, watching Lucas. ‘At least, that was the sort of thing he said to me.’

‘Rose, I didn’t want to be late.’

Felix tilted back his head. ‘Are you talking about my daddy?’ He blinked his blue eyes. ‘Did Daddy run in races?’

‘I’m pretty sure he did, Felix.’ There was a proprietorial note in Rose’s voice – to which I objected. Lucas came running over, the windmill in full sail. He was grubby and happy. He brushed past without seeing me, and flung himself against Rose. ‘I was very fast.’

‘Yes, you were. Felix and I are hoarse from shouting.’ She placed a finger on the rosette pinned to his shirt.

‘Lukey,’ I said, feeling the flame of jealousy, ‘hello. Let me see your rosette.’

Rose looked up, and read my thoughts. She could almost have said, But you took Nathan . Instead, she raised her eyebrows and murmured to Lucas, ‘Have you said hello to Mummy?’

I clasped Lucas to me. I don’t know why I didn’t defend myself and explain to Rose why I had been late. There was no reason for me to defend Poppy, except perhaps a curious loyalty.

Rose stacked the plastic picnic plates and mugs. She swept up the crisps packets and stowed them in the cool bag. ‘Have you eaten? There’s a sandwich left.’

‘No, thank you.’ My voice shook.

Rose’s self-command was perfect. She dusted a shard of crisp from her finger. ‘Now that you’ve turned up, I think perhaps I should go.’ She picked up a canvas bag and hitched the handle over her shoulder.

A couple of yards away, a toddler was roaring for its mother, a posse of children were playing tag, darting between the spread rugs, and one of the teachers was telling off a sullen girl with scraggy plaits. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve been at a sports day’ Rose pointed at the roaring toddler. ‘Presumably it has a mother. By the way…’ She hesitated. ‘Minty, I don’t know what you’d say to this, but Felix has been going on about a kitten. Would you allow me to get you one? I know a source.’

‘No,’ I said flatly. ‘No kittens. No cats.’

‘OΚ. It’s just that it might help Felix -’

‘Perhaps we shouldn’t repeat this,’ I said. ‘It’s too difficult. I’m sorry I ever involved you with the boys.’

‘How silly, Minty’ Suddenly an angry red patch appeared on Rose’s neck, and she was transformed from the cool creature of a moment ago to someone who was seriously angry. ‘It can’t do any harm and I’m interested in them. I like them.’

‘Even so, Rose.’

‘Nathan was right.’

‘And what was he right about? What did you both conclude during your cosy chats?’

Rose stared at me, and her features hardened into acute dislike. ‘Nothing.’ She hitched the strap of her bag further up her shoulder and walked away.

I worked late into the night on the resurrected Middle Age idea. ‘ If we accept that time is an artificial construct,’ I wrote in my notes, ‘then what matters is experience. Experience is what tempers us and helps us to carry our mistakes. It also helps us to understand that death, which is waiting, informs life.’

Was that correct? Did I believe it? As a theory it sounded good, and convincing, and the people to whom it applied were the cream of the earth: the rounded, complete, mature personalities. It would be nice to think that I was among them.

I pushed aside the notes. The idea required further work because it was still gestating. It needed time to grow wings.

I rubbed my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, which required cutting – goodness knew when that would be possible.

What had Nathan been right about?

What had he and Rose agreed about me?

I was on the switchback again.

I went to make some tea and, on the way, glanced up at the landing where the ironing-board was and where Rose, when she lived here, had placed her desk. She was still in this house, Nathan too.

I put the kettle on, unlocked the back door and went outside into the summer night.

What had Nathan and Rose decided between them?

I sat down on the bench and ran my fingernail along the table. There was lichen growing on it, and it needed scrubbing. I remembered Nathan sitting opposite me at this table. We had been married for three years and one day. Because it was such a warm evening, we were having supper outside, seafood pasta – I was eating the seafood without the pasta – and we had embarked on a negotiation as to where we should take a holiday.

‘I want somewhere hot,’ I said, as I always did so my pitch held no surprises.

He dug his fork into the pasta, twirled it expertly, then lifted it to his mouth. ‘And I want to go Cornwall,’ he said, as he always did.

‘I’ve looked up a place on Rhodes. Nice villa by the sea. The boys would like it.’

‘The boys are too young. When we took Sam and Poppy…’ Nathan did not continue. He put down his fork and looked everywhere but at me.

That was the moment when a voice in me articulated clearly, ‘Do you realize you’ve taken on enough history to fill a library?’

I got up, went inside and rattled in the cupboard for salt. I was ashamed and devastated by the revelation and also, curiously, calm because everything was now crystal-clear.

Nathan would never let go of his past life, could never let go.

He followed me into the kitchen. ‘Minty, this has got to stop. I can’t pretend I didn’t have Poppy and Sam.’

‘No,’ I said.

Upstairs, one of the twins called. Nathan and I turned our heads in the direction of his cry. ‘You or me?’ asked Nathan.

On that at least we were united.

Now, in the kitchen, I ran hot water into the sink and plunged my chilled hands into it. Then I boiled the kettle and took a cup of camomile tea up to bed where I drank it. I switched off the light and lay down. After a while, I put out my arm and let it rest in the space that Nathan should have occupied.

Rose did not reply to the messages I left on her answer-phone. I allowed two days to elapse. Then I took myself round to her flat after work.

She answered the door. She was dressed in a skirt I recognized from Prada, a leopard-print cardigan, and a necklace of large wooden beads. She looked wonderful, and not very surprised. ‘I suspected you’d turn up sooner or later.’

She did not invite me in, so I summoned my best brand of gall. ‘You didn’t answer my calls. I’ve come to sort things out.’

Rose kept her hand on the door, and I said, ‘Rose, if we get this over and done with, then it’ll be over and done with.’

Eventually she stepped aside. ‘Come in.’

The sitting room was a mass of flowers and smelt gorgeous. ‘I’ve just landed a one-off slot on a gardening series for television,’ she explained. ‘I’m doing small city gardens. People have been kind and sent flowers.’

‘Who with?’

‘The Activities Channel, but it’s being made by Papillon. It probably won’t get a large audience, but you have to grab these opportunities. Anyway, it’ll be fun.’

‘Papillon? That must be Deb.’ I glanced at the label on a huge bunch of lilies, which read, ‘Love from Hal’. ‘How is Hal?’ I asked.

‘Fine. Busy’.

‘I often wondered if you’d marry him.’

‘As it happens, he has asked me.’ Rose pointed to the blue chair. ‘Sit down, Minty.’

I avoided the blue chair where Nathan had died and sat on the sofa. ‘Why not marry him?’

‘I like what I am. I’m fine as I am. I don’t want change anything,’ Rose replied, but her voice was not entirely steady. ‘Hal’s the sort of person who never leaves you, and he hasn’t. So…’ She fell silent. ‘I don’t know what to think. I may or may not. Probably not. I don’t want the disruption. I’ve got used to thinking of myself as independent.’ A flash of uncertainty and doubt. ‘It’s difficult at my age… so…’ She switched the subject. ‘Say whatever you want to say, then go. Let’s not waste each other’s time.’