Vivien Hampshire - How to Win Back Your Husband

In fact, he could almost believe, from the sudden and complete wiping of her very existence from the family archives, that Nicci was no more than a figment of his imagination and the last decade of his life had never actually happened. Even the wedding photo in its silver frame, which had always held pride of place, had mysteriously disappeared from the sideboard in his parents’ flat, leaving a rectangular gap in the dust yet to be filled with any sort of replacement.

But, when it came to girls, the last thing Mark was looking for right now was a replacement, however well-intentioned his mother’s hopes for him might be. Almost from the moment he’d first seen her, in that ridiculously cute witch costume with a spider’s web inexpertly drawn across her cheek, he’d known that Nicci was the only girl for him, and breaking that feeling was not going to be easy.

He stopped at a refreshments van and queued for a tea, blowing on his hands to combat the cold until the warmth coming through the polystyrene cup was able to do the job for him, and then looked about for Simon. They always tried to get here early, and usually managed to track each other down before it was time to go inside the ground and make their way to their seats. Simon being six foot four helped. Add a bobble hat to the top of that and he was fairly easy to spot in a crowd.

‘Hey, Mark!’ Simon loped towards him. ‘Tea looks good. You could have got me one.’

‘I thought you’d have been on the beer, Si. Tea’s an old man’s poison!’

‘Nah. Saving myself for later. Big session lined up for Rudy’s stag do. Wanna come?’

‘I don’t even know Rudy, whoever he is!’

‘Why should that matter? More the merrier!’

Mark waited while Simon fought his way to the front and got himself a drink. He was a good bloke, his brother-in-law. They’d hit it off right from the start, Mark nervously wiping his feet as he stepped into Nicci’s family home to meet her parents for the first time, and Simon only in his teens then, bouncing with energy and peppered with spots. He’d very quickly become the younger brother Mark had never had, and whatever was going on, or not going on, between Mark and Nicci now, the two men had already decided that it was not going to affect their own friendship.

‘So, how is she?’ Mark asked as they moved along the street, trying to keep the tea in their cups as people rushed past, bumping and jostling as they went. Somehow, despite his determination to let nothing but football matter this afternoon, Nicci had wormed her way back into his thoughts.

‘Nic? Okay I think. Not seen much of her, to be honest, but Mum’s spoken to her a fair bit. I think she’s bearing up. She does seem genuinely sorry though, mate. You know, for that business with…’

‘Jason. It’s okay. You are allowed to say his name.’

‘I don’t think it’s still going on, or anything like that. She doesn’t talk about it, to tell you the truth. Or him. Still…’ Simon fell silent for a few moments, as if realising a change of subject was probably called for. ‘Any news about the house?’

‘Not really. I spoke to the agent yesterday. A few people have been round to view it, but there’ve been no offers. I wonder if we’ve priced it a bit on the high side?’

‘Need every penny you can get, I should think. Both of you. Can’t be easy starting out again. I think Nic’s considering coming back home for a while after it’s sold. You know, while she gets her bearings and decides what to do with herself. Mum’s quite excited about having her back where she can keep an eye on her. She’s been spring cleaning like mad in her old room.’

‘That’s good. I don’t like to think of her having to rent some scrappy little flat like mine. Home with your mum sounds like a good place to be, for now at least. Has she still got the Take That posters on the wall, and that old pink teddy on the bed?’

‘Yep. That room hasn’t been changed one bit since our Nicci left home. Like a shrine, it is. No matter how many of my mates might need to sleep over, no one’s ever allowed to sleep in Nic’s bed, except Nic. Good job we’ve got a guest bedroom and a decent-sized sofa! You know, it’s almost like Mum’s always expected her to come home one day.’

‘Really? Being married to me was just seen as a temporary measure then, was it?’

‘Nah. I didn’t mean that. Mum’s always been really fond of you. Still is. But Nic’s still her little girl, you know, and she needs to make sure she’s all right. Just like she would if something was to happen to me, I guess. Mum can’t wait to start looking after Nic again. The old dressing gown on the sofa with hot water bottles and chicken soup routine… It’s what mothers do, isn’t it?’

‘Nicci’s not ill, Si. It’s a marriage break-up. She doesn’t have the lurgy!’

‘Maybe not. But she is in need of a bit of TLC, I think. Anyway, come on, back to business. We’re here for the game, and there’s only fifteen minutes to kick-off.’

They went through the turnstiles and made their way to their seats in the stand, and for the next hour and a half Mark was able to push all remaining thoughts of his ex-wife and her bloody lover out of his head and revel in the glorious fact of the Blues scoring two cracking goals and shooting straight to the top of the table.

***

Nicci walked into Albie’s just after six o’clock and nodded to the man himself, who was vigorously wiping glasses dry behind the bar. She went in search of Jilly. It was their regular after-work haunt, somewhere they could slip their shoes off in one of the cosy booths and indulge in a generous helping of Albie’s finest Rioja. They didn’t often come in on a Saturday though, even if they’d been out shopping together, mainly because they were in the habit of going straight home to spend time with their husbands at the weekend, curl up on their respective sofas, check their lottery numbers and watch Casualty .

Nicci felt her stomach tighten in a little knot at the memory. She hadn’t really appreciated the joyful ordinariness of that kind of a Saturday night while it was happening, but now it was no longer an option, even thinking about it hurt.

Jilly was already sitting at their usual table in the corner, an open bottle and two glasses in front of her. She budged up a bit, half standing to adjust her skirt, which was starting to ride a fraction too high up her thighs, and took her bag off the empty seat beside her to make room.

‘So, why are we here, exactly?’ Nicci said, once she’d settled herself. ‘You said something about a Plan B, and I’m not even sure I know what Plan A was. So, what’s it all about? Another of your mysterious master schemes? And, by the way, you told me you weren’t supposed to be drinking.’

‘Oh, stop being my mother. One won’t hurt. And as for the Plan B thing, I may have been a tad melodramatic there! It makes us sound like a couple of spies. No, I thought we should sit down and have a little chat about things, that’s all. You know, away from everyone else, and without the party atmosphere. Just the two of us. We haven’t done it often enough lately.’

‘Chat about what exactly? You’re not still trying to set me up with a new bloke, are you? I’ve told you I’m not ready for any of that. I’ve only just lost the last one.’

‘Maybe not. But it is time you stopped mooning about like a sad-eyed puppy. Although I’m not sure lost is actually the right word. Thrown away, more like. And Mark’s not going to be coming back, is he? No, don’t you look at me that way, Nic. You know it’s true. And you know it’s your own fault.’

‘Jilly!’

‘Well, it is. No use pretending otherwise. You could have talked things through, you know, made more effort to sort out whatever it was you found so deadly dull. And stuck to your guns about the baby thing too. Chucked something at his head to shake him up a bit, even. It might have made a difference, or got his attention anyway.’