The Younger Wife, page 24
‘I’ll go give Sonny a hand,’ Darcy said, placing his beer on a low table. He’d been playing with the boys earlier, while half-a-dozen women looked on, salivating. It was another feather to his cap that he was a natural with kids.
Rachel and Dad remained where they were. A moment of awkward silence passed between them. Rachel surveyed the people standing around them, but she felt Dad’s eyes on her.
‘He seems like a nice guy,’ Dad said finally. ‘It’s nice to see you with someone.’
‘It’s nice to be with someone,’ Rachel agreed, smiling at someone walking past.
‘He’s being good to you?’
She nodded, sipping her champagne.
‘It’s a good time for our family,’ Dad said. ‘There’s only one thing that would make it even better.’
Rachel looked at him at last. ‘And what’s that?’
‘If I could make things right with you.’ Dad’s voice shook just the tiniest bit. ‘I’m sorry things have been strained between us these past few months. I should have told you about Fiona. I wish I had.’
‘Dad –’ Rachel started.
‘I’ve made mistakes,’ he said over the top of her. ‘But you can’t really believe that I would hurt your mother, can you?’ His tone was pleading.
Dad held her gaze for several moments, before his face fell.
‘I just wish I understood, Rachel. Why would you start thinking this now? Did I ever lay a hand on you or your sister?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘Did your mother seem unhappy in her marriage to me?’
Rachel thought about that. Her parents had had their moments, but overall the answer was no: Pam hadn’t seemed unhappy. Her mother adored her father. Rachel had never known her mother to shrink away from Dad or be afraid to voice a contrary perspective. They always seemed like a strong couple who respected each other’s opinions and beliefs, even when they differed. That was what made her suspicions now so confusing.
‘Listen, I know you want to figure out what that hot-water bottle money was for. I’d like to know too. I wish we could just ask your mother. There are a million times every day that I’d like to ask your mother something. I’d like to know if she remembers who I am, and if she knows who Heather is. I’d like to know if she understands how much we all love her. But there’s so much in this world that we will never know, Rachel.’
He sounded so sad, it stirred something in Rachel. Something intangible and slippery – a little like doubt. After all, it was possible that she’d got the wrong end of the stick. It was possible that she’d let her desire for closure, an answer to the mystery, cloud her judgement. It was possible that, just as Tully was shoplifting all over town, this was her way of grieving her mother.
It was possible.
‘It might be too much to ask,’ Dad said, ‘but more than anything I’d love to hear you say that you believe I’d never hurt your mother. The idea that you think I could, it just . . . it keeps me awake at night.’
Me too, she thought.
‘I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true,’ he said. ‘But if it is true, it would mean everything to hear you say it.’
Around them, the party hummed on. A waiter offered a guest a canapé. Someone tittered with laughter. And they were inside a little bubble right in the middle of it all. Dad looked like he might cry. Rachel wanted to say it more than anything. The instinct to please her father ran deep, even now. She opened her mouth, tried curving it around the words she needed to say. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.
57
HEATHER
This was her life, Heather thought. This was her life.
She was sipping champagne and nibbling canapés and laughing. The restaurant was fancy, but low-key. The guests were interesting and intelligent. The family was here, even the little boys, who tore around the place creating happy mischief. Stephen had invited some colleagues, all very nice people who congratulated her and wished her well. Mary, who’d become something of a close friend these past couple of months, was here too.
She’d continued her weekly counselling sessions with Inna, which had been wonderful, even though they had taken their toll. She was delighted to realise that her husband-to-be was not abusive, but at the same time it was hard not to be able to trust herself. If she was capable of getting something so wrong, how could she ever trust herself again? It was a perfectly normal fear, according to Inna, who assured her it would pass. The main thing was that she had things clear in her head now. Her father was a bad man. Stephen was good. The falls, the trips, the miscarriage – they were accidents. Stephen would never hurt her. He would never hurt anyone.
‘Can I have everyone’s attention, please?’
Heather looked around. Stephen was standing on a chair, gesturing for guests to pay attention. When he caught Heather’s eye, he looked a little guilty. He’d promised not to give a speech. Heather didn’t like the attention. At the same time, she knew she’d have a hard time keeping him quiet. It was a social occasion, and social occasions always brought out the emotion in Stephen.
‘It is a delight to have you all here tonight,’ he started. ‘If you’re here, it means that, whether you are an old or new friend, you’re among my and Heather’s nearest and dearest. We have had a rather . . . unconventional courtship. And I’ll admit it’s one that took me by surprise.’ At this he looked directly at Heather and smiled so warmly, she found it hard to think of anything but how lucky she was. ‘I have been very fortunate in my life. I’ve known a lot of joy. A couple of years ago, I thought my time for joy had ended. And I was okay with that. It seemed fair, after all the happiness I’d had, that I should know suffering. Now I find that I have a new chapter ahead with this amazing woman . . . I don’t even know how to express my gratitude. So’ – he gestured to Heather – ‘I’d like to raise a glass to my lovely wife-to-be, Heather Wisher. Tomorrow, Heather Aston.’
Heather drained her champagne and collected another glass from a circling waiter.
‘Heather Aston,’ everyone chorused.
Stephen climbed off his chair and came to her side. He pressed his lips against her forehead and she leaned against the solid mass of him. In the past few months, he’d become such a haven for her. Such a comfort. A week ago, after discussing it with Inna, she’d told him the truth about her parents. Inna had convinced her that Stephen wasn’t going to change his feelings for her over it, and after a while she’d come to believe that. Still, she’d been unprepared for his response.
‘I was wondering when you’d tell me.’
Heather had stared at him. ‘You knew?’
He smiled sadly. ‘Your mother was brought into the hospital I worked at all those years ago. Doug Wisher’s name was spoken for months at work. When you told me your surname and said that your parents had died, it wasn’t hard to work out who you were.’
‘But why didn’t you say anything?’
‘I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.’
Heather couldn’t get her head around it. ‘You weren’t worried about getting involved with a woman whose father killed her mother?’
‘Only insofar as it was affecting you. Which it seems it has been these last few months. I’ll admit, I was a bit heavy-handed when it came to the alcohol. I read that your dad was a drinker, and I worried about what that might mean for you. And then, when you started to have the violent episodes and were accusing me of hurting you, I worried more. I assumed you were projecting things, but I didn’t want to push you to face anything you weren’t ready for.’
‘You really are an amazing man,’ she said.
But it turned out that she wasn’t the only one with a confession to make, and Stephen had something he wanted to get out into the open.
‘I was married before Pam,’ he told her. ‘To a woman called Fiona Arthur.’
‘It was a long time ago, while I was in my twenties. Pam and I never told the girls about it, but they got wind of it recently, so I told them. Now that they know, I wanted you to know too.’
Heather had been surprised to learn there’d been a wife before Pam, but she had to admit it paled in comparison to the confession she had just made. And there was something about sharing these secrets that made her feel closer to him.
‘I just need you to know that you are safe with me, Heather. I would never hurt you. I promise.’
‘I know,’ she said.
And as she stood in his arms the night before their wedding, she did.
58
RACHEL
‘Are we having a picnic?’ Mum asked, looking at the manicured grass. It was the fourth time she’d asked in as many minutes. And, indeed, it would have been a lovely day for a picnic. The sun was shining, the sky was blue – it was a perfect spring day.
‘Yes, Mum,’ Rachel said, and Mum beamed. She’d always loved it when she was right about something (even when she wasn’t). The first time she asked, Rachel had explained that they were going to a wedding, to which Mum had of course asked, ‘Whose wedding?’ and Rachel had looked at Tully and they’d both come up blank.
Mum was in a cheery mood, her spirits lifted perhaps by the sunny day and all the people dotted around the grass. As Dad said, Mum had always liked a party. Maybe Dad was right. About everything.
‘Time to go in,’ Tully said, when the last of the guests had entered. Heather hadn’t arrived yet, and they thought it would be wise to get Mum into the chapel before she saw the bride and asked who she was. They’d decided they weren’t going to do the traditional walk down the aisle with Heather, and Rachel was grateful for that. It was going to be a strange enough day without that ceremony, and everyone decided Rachel and Tully would be far more useful looking after Mum.
Still, like good bridesmaids, they’d paid Heather a visit that morning and found her with the typical nerves – her brow a bit sweaty, her hands shaking. Rachel was glad Heather hadn’t insisted that she and Tully wear elaborate matching gowns and have their hair and make-up done. Instead, Rachel had done her own make-up and chosen her own outfit – a long, navy blue dress with cap sleeves and an empire neckline. She had to say, she felt quite beautiful.
‘Show time,’ Tully said.
Tully entered the chapel first, and Rachel followed with Mum on her arm. It wasn’t a formal procession, thank goodness. The music didn’t change and people didn’t stand. But most of the guests were already there and they turned and smiled. The chapel was tiny, and people were stuffed in cheek by jowl. Still, Rachel had to admit it looked beautiful. The flowers were tasteful. There was a harp playing softly.
Mum waved to people as Rachel walked her down the aisle, as if it were her own wedding. It was funny – Rachel had definitely not been a fan of the idea of bringing Mum today, but it was actually rather a lovely touch. Periodically, Mum glanced at her, as if for reassurance, and Rachel smiled back. She didn’t know if Mum recognised her today, but she knew Mum felt secure with her, and that was enough.
Rachel saw Darcy in the crowd. She was grateful he had come. Part of her thought it would be better to leave him out of it, to let her muddle through this peculiar family situation on her own, and yet there was definitely a comfort in having someone there to support her. Things had been good between them. With Darcy, she felt like she’d taken back her sexuality from that man on the beach and reclaimed it as her own. She accepted the bad things that had happened to her, as well as the good that had come from them.
They reached the altar and Rachel tried to guide Mum to her seat, but Mum continued walking towards Dad, beaming at him with recognition.
‘Well, hello,’ she said, heading straight for him.
Rachel felt the room hold its collective breath.
‘Mum,’ she started, but Dad just held up a hand, stopping her.
‘Hello, Pamela,’ he said to Mum, holding out a courtly arm. ‘Don’t you look beautiful? May I take you to your seat?’
‘Aren’t you a gentleman?’ she said with a giggle.
Dad walked her to the front pew, and she sat beside Rachel. Rachel had to hand it to her father; the crowd loved it. You couldn’t wipe the smiles off their faces.
He’d only just returned to his position at the altar when the music changed. Everyone rose. Mum stood too, looking eagerly towards the back of the room. Rachel casually took hold of her hand to prevent any more unauthorised movements.
Heather appeared, looking radiant. Her dress was off-white, A-line with a floor-length embroidered veil. She’d decided to walk herself down the aisle, since neither of her parents were alive. There was something dignified and elegant about it.
Dad looked as proud as can be, flanked by Miles and Locky, who were looking very irritated to be in suits and kept pinching one another. Dad was every bit the image of a man in love. Mum too watched Heather coming up the aisle with a smile. When she noticed Rachel watching her, she leaned over. ‘Doesn’t she look lovely?’
‘Yes,’ Rachel agreed. ‘She does.’
Heather arrived at the altar and the guests took their seats. Everyone except Mum. Rachel tugged on her hand. ‘Sit down, Mum.’
But Mum just stood there.
‘Mum,’ Rachel tried again quietly. She could feel a hundred sets of eyes boring into the back of her head. ‘Mum, can you please . . .’
But her mother shrugged her off and walked towards the altar. Towards Dad.
59
HEATHER
Heather felt unwell. Part of it was wedding day jitters, the other part, perhaps, the drinks she’d had last night to calm her nerves. Still, she’d managed to get herself dressed and ready this morning without having a breakdown. She’d practised her deep breathing in the car on the way over. She’d smiled at the happy faces of the guests (mostly strangers) on her way down the aisle. Then she’d seen Stephen . . . and all her nerves faded away.
Until Pam joined them at the altar.
‘Hello, Pam,’ she said uncertainly. She could feel the tension in the room. Stephen looked apologetic.
For a moment, Heather didn’t know quite what to do. Then she noticed Pam looking at her posy. ‘Would you like these?’ Heather said, holding them out to her. ‘They match your outfit beautifully.’
Pam beamed. ‘You think?’
‘Definitely.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Pam took the flowers and happily returned to her seat.
Crisis averted.
‘All right,’ the celebrant said, sounding relieved. ‘Let’s do this, shall we?’
The celebrant started by welcoming everyone. Then she went on to share some observations about love. As she talked, Heather felt Stephen’s eyes on her. Kind eyes. She was doing the right thing, she was sure of it. Almost one hundred per cent sure. This was her fairy tale. She was having her happy ending.
She’d had a call from her dad last night. It was the second call he’d made since her visit. ‘Nothing else to do,’ he said the first time, when she’d asked why he was ringing. ‘Pretty boring in here.’ They didn’t have long to chat; within a few minutes a recorded announcement informed them that the call would end in sixty seconds. In that first brief call she’d told her dad that she was an interior designer (and then she’d had to explain what that meant). Then, last night, she’d told him she was getting married. He’d been excited to hear that.
‘A doctor,’ he said, then whistled. ‘Good work, Heather.’
It was good work, she supposed. A girl like her, clawing her way from the bottom of society’s ladder to a higher rung. No thanks to him.
The celebrant began the vows with a call for the rings. Stephen produced them from his own pockets, after announcing that he hadn’t trusted his best men (Miles and Locky) with the honour. Everyone laughed.
As they continued with the proceedings, Heather noticed that Pam was starting to look a little restless. Rachel and Tully were doing their best to settle her, but eventually Stephen gestured at them to let her be. Immediately, Pam was out of her seat. She headed toward the altar determinedly. She looked like a woman on a mission, Heather thought . . .
60
TULLY
Tully liked to think she’d become pretty zen since she’d started therapy, but she had to admit this whole affair was pushing it. It was supposed to be a wedding, for heaven’s sake! Instead she felt like she was herding cats.
Dad had insisted on having Locky and Miles as his ‘best men’ – which was all glory and cuteness for him, all pain-in-the-arse for her. She was the one who’d had to strongarm them into tiny little dinner suits and then forbid them to play on the grass. She was the one who had their little fingers poking her in the butt during the service, accompanied by their constant asking to go outside and play and, also, were there any snacks? And, as if this circus wasn’t enough, now Mum was wandering around the altar while the entire congregation ignored Dad and Heather’s exchange of vows and watched her with bated breath, waiting for her to do something.
It wasn’t civilised, Tully thought. This was why people liked civilised things.
Mum was standing at the altar now, holding Heather’s posy. What are you thinking, Mum? Tully wondered. Do you know what is happening? Are you aware that you are being usurped before your very eyes? Tully wasn’t sure. Mum had seemed perfectly happy at first, but she was definitely getting a little restless now. She placed her posy on the altar table, and picked up a large candlestick. The celebrant looked a little nervous about it, but it appeared everyone had decided to pretend nothing unusual was happening. How very middle class of them.
‘I now pronounce you husband and wife,’ the celebrant said finally. ‘You may kiss the bride.’
There was an outburst of cheers as Dad and Heather shared a (thankfully chaste) kiss. It startled Mum, who looked around worriedly, wielding her candlestick. Dad and Heather beamed and waved at the crowd, until the celebrant invited them into the sacristy to sign the register. They were followed by the little boys, who took off at a run. Rachel and Tully went after them, collecting Mum along the way and taking her with them, for her own safety as well as everyone else’s.
