Juliet Bell - The Other Wife - A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense

Betty pushed with her uninjured arm, and pulled her knees up onto the table, dragging her skirt down to cover herself.

‘What in God’s name is going on here?’

Betty stared down at her blistering hand. She didn’t speak.

‘I was… she…’ Richard stumbled and stuttered over the words as he stuffed himself back into his trousers.

‘She what?’ His father’s voice was cool.

‘She started it.’

Betty shook her head.

‘She came on to me. Been coming on to me for months now.’

Mr Mason nodded. ‘And you couldn’t resist the urge?’

Richard bent his head towards the ground. ‘Sorry, Father.’

Betty waited for the consequences. She’d heard Mr Mason shout at his son through the walls sometimes. But instead of anger, Mr Mason just nodded. ‘Young men have needs.’

He stepped forward and slapped his son briskly across the shoulder. Then he looked at Betty. ‘And you fancied this one.’

Richard shrugged. ‘She was up for it.’

Betty burned with rage. ‘I was not. I…’

Mr Mason held up a hand. ‘Quiet. You’ve done enough.’

The older man was staring at her, though not with want, like she’d had from Richard such a short time before. This was something else.

‘My mates all want a go with her. That’s half the reason they all want to come round here.’

Mr Mason nodded. ‘That’s interesting. Very interesting.’ He turned back to his son. ‘I forgot the contracts for the Northam land leases. Could you fetch them? Should be on my desk.’

Richard hurried out of the room.

Betty still sat huddled on the table.

Mr Mason folded his arms. ‘I’m thinking I might get a new cleaning girl in.’

Betty nodded, confused.

‘Maybe it’s time you played more of a part in the business, if you know what I mean? Does that sound good?’

Betty didn’t know what he meant, but it seemed to mean less cleaning, so she nodded.

‘Good. We’ll have to get you some new clothes.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Nicer things so you’re nice for my associates to look at. I’ll give you money to go shopping. Would you like that?’

Now Betty understood. She was to look pretty and make people happy. ‘Yes, Mr Mason.’

Jane

‘Sue says she did it with her boyfriend on New Year’s Eve. At a party.’

‘I bet she’s lying.’

‘No, she told me it didn’t last long, but they definitely did It.’ The two girls giggled wildly as they carried their bags up the stairs to the dormitories.

I watched them go. I hated the start of the new year. During the summer holidays, Helen and I got to be alone at Our Lady. For ten years now, summer had been my favourite part of the year. We would read and talk, and now we had the added joy of watching our garden flourish. The Christmas services with only the two of us and the nuns, rather than with a chapel full of giggling girls, were beautiful and I was able to feel the presence of the Lord in the calm and the music.

Then school would start, and all that peace was shattered.

This year we were moving into grade twelve. I was almost seventeen, almost a woman, according to the calendar, but nowhere near what the other girls would consider being a woman. I’d barely talked to a man outside of the priests at confession, and that certainly didn’t count. Those giggling girls gossiping about who had and hadn’t done it already lived in a different world.

I let myself out the back door of the boarding house. As a senior boarder, the nuns didn’t seem to mind if I went where I liked around the school grounds after lessons were over. The garden was wilting a bit in the late summer heat, but it was still beautiful. The roses were continuing to bloom, and we had trained a white bougainvillea from the neighbouring garden to climb to our side of the fence. Helen had said that that was a sort of magic – it was like stealing, but nobody lost anything. The more people loved and cared for the plant, the more there was to go around. There were tall sunflowers, their faces raised to the clear blue sky and delicate blue Agapanthus. Helen and I had made a shady bower, with green grass to sit on, and she was there now, resting against the garden wall and reading. Throughout the summer, this little oasis had given me so much joy, but now I found myself looking at the scene with a sense of disquiet. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as I dropped onto the grass next to her.

‘This is our last year at school. What do we do at the end of the year?’

She put her book down and looked at me. ‘Will you go back to live with the Reeds?’

‘Never.’

She took my hand. ‘You’re still thinking about John, aren’t you?’

I nodded. It had been a long time before I’d even told Helen about that day in the sports shed and about my cousin coming into my room. Even now I couldn’t make sense of what he’d been doing. ‘He probably goes after prettier girls now.’

‘Oh, Jane. You are pretty. Don’t you know that?’

She always said that, and I always wanted to believe her. But when I looked at the other girls, I knew it wasn’t true. I was bony where they had curves. My plain brown hair was flat and fine, not glossy like some of the others. I barely dared to try putting on make-up. I didn’t know how to stop it looking like a painted mask. At best, I hoped to be forgettable.

‘I don’t know anything, Helen. I’ve lived here since I was just a child. We both have.’ I was realising rapidly that in a few short months we’d have to leave this place. We’d have to leave this garden. We’d have to leave the nuns and lay teachers who’d been our guides through life so far. And we’d have to go… where? I tried to explain what I meant.

‘The only time we leave is to go on school trips. We really don’t know what’s out there.’ The idea was overwhelming – there was a whole world waiting to chew us up. ‘Maybe we should stay here and become nuns?’

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