My Husband's Lies Read online

  Jen

  Jen picks up the ‘St Mark’s’ place card and studies it for a while. Though the music is blaring and people are milling and chatting near their table, she can’t hear anything except the clatter of her heart. It has been racing since looking up to see Penny’s pallid face at the window, and even self-medicating with champagne hasn’t helped. They’ve been joined by Dan from the top table and though usually calm, he’s agitated too, repeating himself like a record stuck in a groove. He’s been brilliant all day, hurtling with Will to deal with Penny, then taking on the role as the only best man at the meal with aplomb, but it’s as though the trauma has only recently set and is playing on a loop.

  He’s shaking his dark head. ‘At a wedding of all places. I can’t believe Penny did that,’ he says again. Frowning, he turns to Geri. ‘She was humming when we got there, but after getting her to safety, she behaved as though everything was normal. Saying she had to dress and brush her hair, check her face in the mirror. Bizarre. Did she say anything to you in the church?’

  ‘No, I’ve already said, Dan, she seemed normal. Well, quiet, but she’s generally pretty quiet, isn’t she?’ Tapping a painted fingernail on her lips, Geri frowns. ‘God, it was only a few hours ago and it’s already hard to remember.’ Closing her eyes, she starts to describe Penny’s movements, but Jen drifts, the batter of her heart still loud in her ears. She tunes in again when Geri mentions Will’s name. ‘She was there when Will was fooling with your girls. It was funny to see them swallowed up by his wedding tails, then racing away. Poor Holly being lugged back under his arm like a sack of potatoes did make me laugh.’ For a moment she looks startled. ‘God, did I really laugh and say it was one of those joyous moments everyone remembers? I looked for Penny then and she was walking inside. Then, I don’t know … the confetti shot?’

  ‘Bloody unbelievable,’ Jen says, her thoughts popping out as words. ‘I wonder what was going on in her head.’

  Turning to the dance floor, she absently watches her daughters. They didn’t see Penny at the window, thank God. At least she doesn’t think so. Geri guided Holly and Maria inside before anyone noticed and she was on the way to clean Anna’s shoes in the ladies’, so she was carrying her.

  She sighs. One of life’s shocking turns; unexpected change in an instant. Her worries about Holly seem silly now. And besides, she looks fine. Her pretty face is flushed and she’s even laughing with Maria. Dancing and music; the two things they have in common.

  The only two things.

  Still finding it impossible to fully absorb what’s happened and shape how she feels, she glances at her watch. Bloody hell, look at the time! Enough theorising about Penny, it’s time now to focus. Pinning her hair behind her ears, she turns to Ian. ‘When should we take the girls up to the room?’ she asks. ‘It’s getting late.’

  He looks up from his mobile. ‘Another ten minutes? I’ll give them a warning.’ Putting his hand on her arm, he squeezes gently. ‘You stay and chat. There’s no need for us both. I’ll put them to bed and catch the end of Match of the Day.’

  ‘Thanks, love, you’re a star.’

  With a surge of affection, she smiles as her husband threads his way to their girls, his red hair flashed green by the neon lights. She observes for a few moments as he negotiates their departure. Her daughters’ faces go from truculent to defeated, from nodding to broad smiles. Bribery, she thinks, it’s the secret of parenting and works every time: money for Maria, football stickers for Holly and swimming tomorrow morning for Anna, she guesses. Of course Ian wants to escape to watch the football highlights and review the day’s scores, but he’s still a bloody star.

  She turns back to the table; Geri is studying her nails, Seb and Dan drinking in silence. She puts her glass to her mouth, then realises it’s empty. The speculation storms back. What the hell happened today? What was going on in Penny’s mind? She seemed fine for the photographs at the church. They stood together, chatting about the girls as usual, and she asked Penny if she was reminded of her big day. She was outside the hotel too, wasn’t she, when Will was larking around? Was that when she caught the puzzled look on his face, when he asked if she knew where Penny had gone?

  Leaning towards Seb, she studies him for a moment, wondering how he’s feeling. Worried for his big brother, she supposes. She knew him so well as a boy, but she hardly knows the man. His intense eyes seem focused on Dan and there’s a small frown she can just see beneath his long fringe.

  ‘Hey, Sebi. Any word from Will?’

  He turns his head sharply, looking startled. ‘No, not much. Just a text to say they’re home.’

  She sits back again, the palpitations still there. ‘What do you think he’ll do? He can’t just do nothing.’

  The words emerge louder than she intends, but no one has a reply. Then Seb seems to rouse himself. ‘I bought a couple of bottles of brandy for Nick. Good stuff. Think we’re bringing down the tone sitting here looking miserable. How about we polish one off in my room?’

  ‘A brilliant idea. You’re a bloody star, Sebi,’ she declares, standing. She grabs Geri’s hand. ‘Come on, pregnant lady. You can be my chaperone.’

  Vertical, she sways. God knows how much she’s already drunk, but she can’t feel it yet. She pictures Penny on the window ledge, so pale and so thin, wearing only her nude-coloured underwear. Drinking more is the thing. She’ll need the anaesthetic tonight.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Dan

  Trying to block out thoughts of his bizarre mission earlier, Dan piles from the lift with Seb, Geri and Jen. Though unsteady on her feet, Jen takes the room key off Seb and opens the door. Almost holding his breath, he watches her close the sash window. Then she piles cushions behind Geri’s back, throws off her shoes and curls her plump legs under her bum as though the bedroom is hers.

  Not sure where to sit, he takes the regency armchair and Seb sits opposite, his fringe flopping forwards as he pours brandy into glasses purloined from the bar.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t,’ Geri says, inhaling the honey-coloured liquid before sipping. ‘But this smells so expensive that a small taster won’t hurt.’

  Jen’s grin shows the dimples on her affable face. ‘Double for me.’ Tucking her dark bob behind her ears, she looks pensive. ‘I wonder how Will is. Nick and Lisa too. The wedding planner had anticipated rain, I’m sure, but that must have been a surprise.’

  Dan swirls his brandy, the prickle of amazement still there. ‘Shock, you mean. Thank God we were outside. I still can’t believe she did it. At a wedding of all—’

  ‘Change the record, Dan,’ Jen snorts. ‘We’re all pretty stunned. It’s not every day—’

  ‘Stop, for God’s sake, just stop!’

  They all turn to Seb. There’s a crack in his voice and he’s glaring at Jen. ‘You seem to be forgetting about Penny. How she must be feeling.’ He rakes back his hair. ‘Can any of us imagine? To do something so extreme. In public too.’ He puts down the bottle and pinches the top of his nose.

  Dan stares, astonished. Seb had seemed so passive up to now, but his features look broken.

  A burst of guilt spreading, he drops his gaze quickly. Penny has only been married to Will for a year or so, but of course she’s still Seb’s sister-in-law. Feeling he’s seen that shattered look before, he automatically stands and puts a hand on Seb’s shoulder. A memory from long ago surfaces, replaced moments later by Penny’s pale face, her strangely glazed eyes. Thrown back to the sensation of freezing flesh in his arms, he abruptly pulls back, his heart galloping. ‘You’re right, Seb. I can’t imagine.’

  With difficulty, Geri sits forward and stretches her fingers towards Seb. ‘We’re all with you there, Seb. I guess it’s just so surreal. You’re right, absolutely, poor Penny.’

  ‘Sorry, Sebi.’ Jen climbs off the bed and though so much shorter than him, she manages to fold him in her arms. ‘Me and my big mouth. You know what I’m like. Of course I’m worried about Penny too. We all are.’


  The four of them change the subject eventually, even manage a laugh as the brandy is poured and time drifts.

  ‘You did a great speech, Dan,’ Seb says, sitting forward. ‘Really funny. I thought Nick’s mum might faint, though. “What happened in Amsterdam should stay in Amsterdam. However …” You should have seen her startled face; I doubt she’s previously heard of a ladyboy.’

  Dan lifts his glass. ‘Cheers, Seb. I was pretty nervous. You know, without my straight man. Had to improvise.’

  Geri stands and yawns. ‘God, I’m shattered,’ she says. ‘I need my bed.’ She pecks Dan on his cheek. ‘You stay and enjoy that delicious brandy while the going’s good. Try not to wake me when you get back.’ She pats her stomach. ‘One lot of kicking is enough!’

  Catching her hand, he squeezes and smiles. ‘Quiet as a … goldfish, I promise!’

  ‘Night, Geri,’ Jen mumbles as the door clicks to. ‘I’m closing my eyes but I’m not asleep.’

  Dan lifts his legs, stretching them onto the bed. The dent left by Geri’s body is still warm. He briefly wonders what life will be like when two becomes three, before parrying the thought and turning to Seb. ‘So, where are you living now, Seb?’ he asks, holding out his tumbler for a refill. ‘You were probably ten when I last saw you.’

  ‘Thirteen. Swimming gala.’

  ‘Of course.’ Dan pictures the boy clutching his bronze medal, his face broken. He pushes the uncomfortable image away. ‘Did you keep it up, the swimming?’

  Seb rocks his head and stares at the ceiling. ‘For a while. All good things come to an end though.’ Then after a moment, ‘I’m living back home in Withington with my mum, just for now. I was living in France with—’

  He’s interrupted by a knock at the door. It’s Ian Kenning, his pale ginger hair sticking out on one side. ‘I’ve come for my wife … Ah.’ He laughs, looking at the bed. ‘As I suspected! Ready to go, love?’ He picks up Jen’s shoes, pulls her gently to her feet and guides her from the room, her eyes almost closed.

  Clearly too gone, Jen doesn’t speak. ‘See you tomorrow at the walk,’ Ian says, closing the door behind him.

  Seb pulls off his shoes and socks, then his waistcoat and cravat and lies in Jen’s place. He puts his arms behind his head. ‘The funny thing is that I can’t work out if I dumped her or if she dumped me. Claudia,’ he adds. ‘Fucking beautiful, hot-tempered, impossible.’

  Dan laughs. ‘Not all bad, then.’

  ‘Fantastic sex. Course that’s what I’m remembering. Not the tantrums, the viciousness, the lack of support. She’s a cunt, Dan. I just need to remember it.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Dan stretches his arms, still feeling the muscular pull from yesterday’s brutal game of squash with Will. Or perhaps from his fall backwards earlier, his best friend’s wife like a cold mannequin on top. Surreal. He really needs a piss but his legs seem paralysed by brandy, though his head feels surprisingly fine. ‘Sex?’ he says after a moment. ‘What’s that then?’

  Seb looks at him and smiles. ‘Timing,’ he says.

  ‘What, with women?’

  ‘No, your jokes. You have good timing.’

  ‘Like the swimming,’ Dan replies, thinking how different Seb looks when he smiles. From chiselled moody to an easy white grin in an instant.

  They chat about sport for a while, Dan remembering Seb was a great sportsman at school. Like the A Team at St Mark’s, each sport came easily, though swimming was his forte. He had a place at the University of Edinburgh to read Biomedicine, but his father died unexpectedly.

  ‘I’m beat,’ Seb says abruptly. Scraping his hair from his forehead, he stands. ‘I need sleep.’ He heads for the bathroom. ‘Kip here if you want.’

  Absently stroking the dark stubble already appearing on his chin, Dan nods. I’ll go in a minute, he thinks, closing his eyes. When he opens them again, Seb’s back in the room, rubbing his angular face with a towel. Broad shoulders, hairless toned chest, he’s just wearing briefs. Swimmer turned model, he now remembers, his mind far too sluggish. Of course Will had mentioned it. But things had gone sour, hadn’t they?

  Trying to remember the story, he gazes at Seb, then pulls his legs off the bed. ‘I’ll just have a piss and then go.’

  In the bathroom, he puts a hand against the wall to steady himself. The pee doesn’t come for a while. Then he stands at the sink, drinking water, briefly catching his tousled hair in the mirror, which he rakes into place.

  The room is dim when he returns. The glow from a bedside lamp accentuates Seb’s sculpted face. He props his head on his hand and gazes at Dan languidly. ‘Do you want to stay?’ he asks. The sheets are pulled away and he’s naked; his long limbs and tight torso are bathed in soft light.

  Dan’s impulse to make a joke is overridden by outrage. ‘What the fuck? You’ve got this all wrong.’ Backing away from the bed, he grabs his jacket, then points a finger at Seb. ‘Totally fucking wrong. Do you hear me?’

  His fringe falling forward, Seb sits. For a moment he stares, then shrugs and falls back. ‘Whatever,’ he says, pulling up the crisp sheet and turning onto his side.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Nick

  The tension finally squeezed from his face, his limbs, his whole bloody body, Nick winds his way around the balmy room, chatting to university friends and their partners, to people from work, to his aunties and uncles and cousins on his dad’s side. Everyone offers him a drink, but there doesn’t seem to be time to accept. The evening has rushed by; he and Lisa stayed close at first, holding hands tightly as they greeted their guests. Then the coven descended and Lisa was whisked away, enveloped in their noisy cachinnations at one end of the room. He hasn’t spoken to her since their first dance, but every now and then he watches for a few moments, taking in her laughter and friendly grin as she chats to the guests, still incredulous that the smiley girl he first saw on a dating site is now his wife. There was always a sense of something missing from his life, but that void has been filled like a foot in a snug-fitting trainer. The feeling of possession surprises him. ‘She’s mine,’ he says inwardly. ‘She belongs to me now.’

  He approaches his godparents. ‘Sorry it’s taken so long to say hello. Exhausting, this groom business,’ he says with a smile.

  Uncle Derek stands. ‘Let me get you a drink,’ he says. ‘You can’t be at your own wedding without a glass in your hand. What would you like, son?’

  ‘Pint of lager would be good,’ he replies, suddenly realising how thirsty he is. He takes Derek’s seat and turns to Iris. Although now into her seventies, her features are pretty and petite, and with her softly curled hair she looks much younger. But her knuckles show her age as she clutches his hand.

  Her eyes shine and she beams. ‘Hello, lovey. Don’t you look handsome. You and Lisa make such a beautiful couple. We’re as proud as punch.’ She digs into her handbag and pulls out a horseshoe-shaped trinket. ‘Course we’ve got you a proper present and a nice large cheque from Derek, but here, love. It’s for good luck. Remember to keep it upright.’ She slips it into his pocket. ‘Matt and Jamie send their love and congratulations.’

  ‘Thanks, Iris. How are they both doing? How many grandchildren is it now? I think Mum said five at the last count.’

  They chat for a few minutes about her sons and their children. ‘What’s she called again? Jamie’s wife?’ Iris asks, sliding her hand into his.

  Startled by the question, Nick has to think back to information gleaned from his mum. The younger son Jamie had married again, but what was her name? ‘Judith? Jude?’ he asks.

  ‘No, the other wife. The one who kept our Jamie too far from home. He wanted to come back from Bristol, but she wouldn’t let him. That one.’

  Ruffling his hair, he tries to remember the name of Jamie’s first wife, but Iris appears to have lost interest. She’s nodding towards Patrick, sitting apart from Lisa’s brothers who’re propping up the bar. ‘We need to find someone for Patrick now. But I don’t know who’d take hi
m on at nearly fifty. Even when he was little and played with my boys he was a funny little bugger.’

  The description takes Nick by surprise, but as he looks into Iris’s bright eyes, he realises she’s tipsy, very tipsy.

  ‘He’d have these uncontrollable tantrums over nothing and the only person who could bring him round was your Susan,’ she continues. ‘She just had a way with him, even though she was so much smaller. He’s talking to someone now, mind. They say people often meet a new love at a wedding. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

  Nick turns to look at his brother, then comes back to his godmother’s peachy face. ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me. Who is Susan?’ he asks. But her shining eyes have moved to her husband. He’s standing behind Nick, holding two pints of beer and a glass of wine in his hands.

  ‘Can you take this wine off me before I drop it, son?’ he says to Nick. And then to Iris: ‘Harry is sitting over there on his tod. We can’t have that on his son’s wedding day. Shall we walk over and join him?’

  Nick watches Derek and Iris wander off. Then he stands alone for a few moments, sipping his pint and glancing around. A girl from uni and a lad from work are smooching on the dance floor to ‘I’m not in Love’. The disc jockey is packing up, the St Mark’s table is empty, the number of guests has worn thin. The coven have stopped dancing and they’ve joined Lisa’s brothers at the bar.

  His drink almost spilling, Lisa catches him around the waist from behind. ‘It’s OK, we can go now. They’ll be here all night.’ Her voice is slurred and he realises that although he’s completely sober, he’s more tired and achy than he’s ever felt before. But he’s married now, he’s done it! He’s finally broken free; he has a perfect-fit-trainer lovely wife.

  They bid goodnight to the Swansea clan. Lisa’s father says a few words in his ear. Of advice, he supposes, he can’t decipher a word. But at least his new father-in-law laughs, unlike the bouncer brothers who stare at him steadily from their whisky tumblers as though they haven’t drunk a drop.