My Husband’s Lies: An unputdownable read, perfect for book group reading. Caroline England
shopping and the bills in the remainder of the week. Though in fairness, Ian does his bit; he irons if there’s sport on the television and he hoovers at weekends, pretty fair in her view. But then Ian is a good man. Except when he’s watching his beloved United play football, he’s an even-tempered, easy-going guy; they make a good team.
A football approaches and she runs, hoofing it accurately to a boy from her class. His freckled face colours with embarrassment. Jen should know better than to interrupt the boys’ game, but she was sporty as a girl and finds herself with daughters who prefer their mobile phones, television and music to sporting activities. ‘Do you wish we’d had a boy?’ she used to ask Ian, pretending a boy would have been nice for him rather than her, but now that Anna is nearly nine, capable of creating a website, let alone dressing and feeding herself, she can’t imagine wanting another child, either boy or girl; it would be too much like hard work.
The sudden spurt of activity has left her breathless. She knows she should lose a few pounds, but dieting feels like hard work too. Her daughters are all skinny. She wasn’t ever thin, not that she minded. Girls like to be skinny for boys, but in her experience, males prefer a little flesh. But the fact is Holly is too thin. She eats well enough, but doesn’t put on weight. Would it be weird to take her to the doctor? A sort of Munchausen by proxy? Plump mother taking skinny daughter to the doctor’s? And anyway, would Holly comply with such an embarrassing request?
She glances at her watch, a fake designer brand bought on their last holiday to Turkey. It’s Wednesday, her half-day. Toasted teacakes for lunch, she thinks. Thank God butter’s back in vogue.
The doorbell rings at two. Jen licks her fingers and flings open the door, but it isn’t Ian’s Amazon delivery of books. It’s Will Taylor, looking smart. Like a rugby player setting off on tour, the central button on his suit jacket looks precarious, as though it might pop any moment.
Her heart jumping, she steps back in surprise. ‘Oh, Will. Hello!’ She glances at the kitchen, catching the breakfast disarray and the second half of her teacake on a plastic Disney plate. ‘Was I expecting you? Did you text?’
A shadow passes across his face and he turns briefly to his car. ‘No. Sorry, I was passing, so I thought I’d see if you were in.’ His eyes come back to hers. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Of course. No problem, come on in.’ She tiptoes in her socks and pecks him on his cheek. ‘Excuse the mess. I was just having my lunch.’ She examines his tense face, anxiety replacing surprise. ‘Is everything OK? Is Penny OK? I’ve been really worried.’
He smiles but looks weary. ‘I know. Thanks for your texts. I’m sorry I haven’t phoned for a proper chat since the wedding but …’ He follows Jen through, sits at the table and rubs his forehead. His hair is receding, but he keeps it cropped short. His head is the right shape, she always finds herself thinking, he suits it like that.
‘Tea or coffee?’ she asks brightly to cover her embarrassment. She changed into a hoody and jogging bottoms the moment she arrived home. The outfit isn’t as clean as it could be and the fresh butter mark doesn’t help. ‘How about a teacake? Toasted or plain?’ She presents the open tin with a flourish. ‘You can smell the sultanas. Mum baked them and they’re delicious. My fingers are still buttery.’
She makes for the kettle but Will catches her wrist. There’s a frown on his face and his voice is low. ‘To be honest, I’d rather …’
The burn of his touch rushes to her cheeks. ‘Talk?’
‘Yes.’ He smiles faintly. ‘Talk like we used to.’
She sits down on the chair next to him. Takes a deep breath. Tries to look him in the eye. ‘No, Will, we promised.’
‘I just need you right now.’ He puts a hand to her cheek, his eyes hollow and dark. ‘I never stopped needing you.’
Flinching from his touch, Jen tries to swallow the flood of emotion before speaking. ‘No, Will. You’re not being fair. To any of us. We said a clean sheet after your wedding.’ She gazes at his face. ‘It was hard, really hard, but we’ve done so well—’
He drops his hand, sits back and closes his eyes. ‘Fair dos. I miss you. I miss us. That’s all.’
She turns away to the sink and busies herself with the kettle as she steadies her breathing. His suggestion’s a surprise, his lack of fight even more so. She wishes she could ignore the clutch of concern mixed with ache in her chest. She starts to count to ten but turns after five, returns to her chair and takes his large hand. ‘Are you OK, Will?’
‘Yeah. I’m OK.’
His drained handsome face doesn’t match his words; she can feel herself falling.
‘Are you really OK?’
He lifts her hand to his lips. ‘You’ve no idea how much I miss you,’ he sighs.
Will lies on his front; he always lies on his belly after sex. He closes his eyes, sighs with a smile and nods off. In the old days Jen didn’t like it; his turning away made her feel slighted and used. She wanted to be cuddled and kissed, to be told how great their lovemaking had been. Perhaps it was because sex in a bed was so rare; she counted it up once: sex in a bed with Will before marriage to Ian and after. The after far outweighed the before. In her marital bed too. Yet she never felt guilt, at least not the guilt she should have. What did she and Will always say? That it wasn’t really betrayal because they’d been together forever. But of course that wasn’t strictly true.
She leans over, inhaling the familiar smell of mild sweat and deodorant, kissing the back of his broad shoulder. ‘I have to leave at three to collect Anna from school.’
He immediately turns, his face closed and sleepy. ‘But we haven’t had a chance to talk.’ He hitches up the bed and puts his arm around her, pulling her close. ‘I shouldn’t have broken up with you before uni,’ he says into her hair. ‘I have no idea why I did it. I should have begged you back before … before it was too late.’
Before marrying Ian Kenning at twenty-one. Giving birth to Maria three months later.
Like his visit, the words are a surprise; Will hasn’t said them for a long time, but still she doesn’t reply. There’s no point reminding him that he thought the grass was greener, that he wouldn’t have as much fun in his fresher’s year with a girlfriend holding him back.
That he broke her bloody heart.
‘Tell me about Penny,’ she says instead, needing to know sooner or later. She takes a breath and steels herself. ‘Tell me what happened at the wedding; tell me why.’
He’s silent for a while, then he kisses her forehead. ‘I had to pay for the cost of the door the other day. Thank God Dan came with me to the room. My legs were like jelly. Another minute and who knows?’
‘Do you really think she would’ve done it?’ Jen asks, but Will stares ahead, saying nothing. ‘It’s OK,’ she adds, her heart racing with the sudden need to know everything. ‘We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’
Will inches down the bed, pulling her with him. He looks at her thoughtfully, then leans forward with a gentle kiss. ‘I don’t want to talk about it, if I’m honest. But then I’m offended no one is asking me about it. It just adds to the weird embarrassment of it all. She’s remarkably fine, actually. Her doctor arranged a home treatment team for the first few days, prescribed medication, and now she’s having counselling, on her own to start with and then with me, if she wants. Of course, it should be her bloody mother, but I doubt she’d agree …’
Jen’s heart slows. She pictures Penny in her underwear, pale-faced and dead-eyed, on the hotel window ledge. Over the past couple of weeks, she hasn’t let herself dwell on reasons why she would do something so extreme and so public, but still there’s a huge sense of relief. ‘Oh right, so she did it because of her mum?’
‘Not directly, but in Penny’s head … God, I don’t know what