My Husband's Wife (8 page)

‘Oh, not really! A friend of mine wrote this article – well, not a friend exactly...’ She blushed. ‘Someone I met on a bench... well, actually, I met him before that... in a caravan.’ Her blush intensified. She felt instantly inadequate in the presence of this petite, gleaming, shiny-haired millionaire.

‘How funny.’ The woman beamed, showing her perfect teeth. ‘I’m Geraldine by the way.’

‘Yes.’ Rosie nodded. ‘I guessed as much. I’m Phil’s wife. Phil Tipcott? He’s working up at your place?’

‘Phil! Yes, of course! Oh God, you must hate me, keeping him and the whole crew working till all hours. I’m sure my name is mud.’ She gave a loud laugh and let her eyes roam over Rosie’s stretch denim M&S jeans.

‘Not at all. I think they’ve quite enjoyed the project,’ Rosie lied.

‘It’s so nice to meet you in person at last. I’ve heard a lot about you from Phil and you’re exactly as I imagined.’

Rosie felt a warm glow at the thought of Phil telling this sophisticated woman all about his family. ‘Do you know, it’s nice to chat to someone. I only get to speak to grubby workmen, don’t know a soul.’

Rosie nodded. Geraldine grabbed her arm. ‘Oh God! Not that Phil is grubby! I’m just putting my foot in it today.’ She laughed again, loudly.

Rosie laughed too. ‘No, you were right the first time – he can get quite grubby.’

‘I should let you go.’ Geraldine smiled. ‘Really, really lovely to meet you. Give my best to Phil, won’t you?’

‘I will.’ Rosie smiled and waved as Geraldine left. ‘Ha! Well I never,’ she muttered, then felt the bloom of self-consciousness at having laughed out loud in the local shop.

‘You okay there, Mrs Tipcott?’ Mrs Blackmore’s busty granddaughter asked from behind the till.

‘Yes thanks, love.’ She folded the newspaper and laid it on top of her shopping. ‘I’m fine.’ She couldn’t wait to show Phil.

*

Rosie fed the girls and ran the bath so they could both have a quick soak before bed. As they splashed in the bubbles, she sat on the loo and read Clark’s article. Naomi filled her cheeks with water and spat it at Leona, who wailed loudly.

‘Please, girls! Can’t I just have five minutes’ peace to read this? Naomi, please stop gobbing water at your sister. It’s not nice.’

‘I didn’t!’ She held her hands up with an expression so virtuous it was as if butter wouldn’t melt.

‘What do you mean? I saw you do it!’ Rosie glared at her.

‘I always get the blame!’ Naomi’s protest increased in both vigour and volume.

‘Because it’s always you!’ Rosie replied.

‘It’s not fair!’ Naomi slapped her palms down on the surface of the water and, to everyone’s surprise, bubbles leapt from the bath and began raining down on them.

‘For goodness’ sake!’ Rosie shook the droplets from the paper and folded it quickly to avoid another soaking.

Leona pointed at her mum and laughed so hard, she couldn’t catch her breath. Naomi followed suit until they were giggling and smiling, back to being the best of friends.

‘What are you two laughing at?’ Rosie couldn’t help but smile; their happiness was irresistibly infectious. It was only when she stood up and looked in the mirror that she saw the large crest of fluffy white bubbles that had landed on the top of her head, making her look part punk, part ice-cream cone.

‘Oh my goodness!’ She laughed, relishing the joy that often came from the smallest of things.

‘Well, I’m glad someone’s had a good day.’ Phil’s voice came from the landing.

‘Mummy’s got bird poo on her head!’ Naomi shouted.

Phil pushed on the door and shook his head at the sight of his wife. ‘Hey, guys. I’ll be downstairs,’ he added, sounding far more downbeat than the situation warranted.

Rosie put the girls into their pyjamas, turned back their duvets and clicked on the nightlights in their bedroom.

‘Right, you can have five minutes chatting to your dad and then it’s bed.’

The two little girls hotfooted it downstairs, wanting to make the most of those five minutes, which, if they were canny, they knew they could stretch to ten.

They actually managed fifteen. As Rosie wished them goodnight and closed their bedroom door, a welcome blanket of hush descended on the house, smothering the flames of chaos that had crackled brightly only minutes earlier. She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the day’s tiredness wash over her. Retrieving the newspaper from the bed, she crept downstairs and into the lounge.

‘You’ll never guess, Phil... Two things. Firstly, I met that Geraldine Farmer and she said to give you her best. She’s lovely! I think she was glad to have someone to chat to.’

He stared at her.

‘And secondly, that man I spoke to, the one who was staying in the caravans, I saw his article today, the one he was writing.’ She held up the paper.

‘What is it I have to
guess
, exactly?’ He looked up at her, his expression weary.

‘What?’ She was a little confused.

‘You said I’d never guess?’ he shot back irritably.

‘Well, nothing. I’m just saying, it was really strange, he said he was writing an article and then there it was in the paper!’

‘So, let me get this straight, you meet a man who says he’s writing an article, he writes the article he told you he was writing and then you see it in the paper. I don’t see what’s strange about it.’

Rosie placed the paper on the sofa. ‘What’s the matter with you?’

Phil pinched the bridge of his nose and sat back in the chair. ‘Nothing. I’m just tired.’

‘I brought your lunch up today, dropped it with your dad, and not a word of thanks.’

‘I never asked you to!’ he snapped.

Rosie stared at him. ‘No, you’re right, and more fool me for worrying that you might not get your lunch. Lesson learnt, Phil. Next time you forget your lunch or need something running up to your mum’s, which I do all the time, you can bloody whistle!’

She left him alone to stew and went to wash up the tea things and stack the dishwasher. She worked quickly, agitated by his mood and his remarks.

It was ten minutes later that he trod the cold kitchen floor and came up behind her.

‘Sorry, Rosie.’

She shrugged and carried on sorting the cutlery into the allocated pots in the dishwasher. ‘Doesn’t matter, it was only a stupid article, I just felt involved in some way, because I met the man who wrote it. Stupid, really.’ She was embarrassed.

‘It’s not stupid. It’s quite exciting. And I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.’

‘Taken what out on me?’

‘Everything – you know. I had a bad day, but it doesn’t give me the right to come back here and be grumpy.’ He ran his hand up her arm. ‘Forgiven?’

‘Course you’re forgiven. Everyone’s allowed to have a grump in a while, but let me help you. Talk to me. What’s up?’ She closed the dishwasher and faced him, tying her thick hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck and giving him her full attention.

‘Nothing really, just... everything.’

‘Is it having to go up to Mortehoe?’

‘What?’ He creased his forehead.

‘Your dad said you were up there on your own, finishing off, and he also mentioned that you found Geraldine a bit of a handful. Is it that? Because if it is, you need to tell Keith that it’s not fair on you. Tell him to send Ross or, better still, if she’s going to be demanding, go up as a pair, support each other, would that help? I can’t bear the idea of her giving you the runaround – you’re worth more than that. Although I have to say, Phil, that she was so nice to me today, I reckon if you took the time to get to know her, she’d be lovely.’

Phil looked at the floor and ran his sock over the tiled surface. ‘I love you, Rosie.’

‘And I love you, you dafty! Go sit in your chair and I’ll bring you a hot drink, how about that?’ She smiled, her voice soft, motherly.

Phil nodded and sloped back to the comfy chair in the sitting room.

It was the first week of July. All the windows of their little house on Arlington Road were open, making the whole place feel different. With the back door permanently ajar, the garden and house became one and their usable space doubled. She loved this time of year. The girls had just ten days left at school before they broke up for the summer holidays and they were already giddy with thoughts of what the summer might hold. Rosie, like most locals, had practically abandoned her car. To try and travel by road was a challenge too far. The town centre was gridlocked, not only with holiday traffic but also with idling pedestrians who had all the time in the world. They ambled across the roads, distracted by ice creams, chocolate-covered waffles and shared bags of fudge, their arms wide and draped with all manner of beach paraphernalia. They were too focused on getting to that wide stretch of golden sand to notice that cars, buses and tractors also needed to go about their business. The taxi drivers smiled for the first time in the year, but after a week or so of pulling fourteen-hour shifts, they were soon moaning about the lack of rest, unlike the other forty-odd weeks of the year, when they moaned about the lack of business.

Mel was in situ and filling out her timesheet when Rosie slid into the booth.

‘I’ve already done mine.’ She nodded at the sheet of paper on the table.

‘Someone get this woman a cloth to shine her halo! She’s already done her timesheet!’ Mel shouted into the busy café.

Rosie laughed and hid her eyes, employing Leona’s strategy. ‘I was only saying!’

‘I always, always forget and then it’s this mad rush to get it in on time. I have to make half of it up.’

‘You can’t do that,’ Rosie tutted.

‘You are such a rule follower.’

‘I am,’ she acknowledged. ‘If I thought I’d put the wrong hours in, I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I need to have everything organised, planned. Talking of which, what weekend is the big barbecue this year? Mid August as normal? I’ve got to ask Mo if she and Keith will do the usual and come and collect the kids after they’ve eaten. Then we can boogie the night away. They’ll take Tyler too, I’m sure, give you the night off. Plus I want to get my outfit planned.’

‘Oh God! I’ve just remembered the Baileys cocktails that Phil made last year. I was wrecked.’ Mel stuck out her tongue and winced. ‘They tasted like milkshakes, but, my God, I had the worst hangover I think I’ve ever had.’

‘I think one or two would have been fine, but it was the eighth or ninth that did it. Or it could have been that we’d had the bottle under the sink since Christmas.’

‘Please don’t remind me.’ Mel closed her eyes, as if even the memory was enough to make her queasy.

‘What can I do to help? Coleslaw and salads as usual? I was thinking of doing a fancy one I saw in my magazine, with couscous, lemon and mint.’

‘Ooh, couscous – get you, Miss Fancy Pants! Yes, please, that or coleslaw would be lovely. I’ll let you know the date when we’ve fixed it. Andy’s been dithering about the details, shock horror.’

‘Well, can you remind him that I need to put it in my social calendar. In fact...’ She considered this. ‘It is the
only
thing in my social calendar. How sad am I?’

‘Not sad, just too busy to fit everything in.’ Mel waved at the waitress. ‘Coffee and a jacket, Miss Shitstar?’

‘Of course.’ Rosie smiled at her friend.

‘So, is Kayleigh still sprinkling glitter with every smile?’ Mel asked as they waited to order.

‘Seems to be. I’ve only seen her in passing a couple of times, but, honestly, it was weird. Even spooked Mo and Keith, and you know it takes a lot to get them flustered.’

‘Unless we’re talking about a visit from the prodigal Kevin – they always go into a big flap over that.’

‘True. I suppose it’s a bit unfair, really. I mean, I’m fond of Kev, you know, and he is the baby and all that, but when I think how hard Phil works... And then when Kev turns up, it’s as if Phil’s invisible, and he’s a good son to them, as well as a good husband and dad. We’re lucky really.’

Mel waved again at the waitress and changed the subject. ‘I’m bloody starving,’ she said.

*

It was late afternoon and the girls skipped ahead. ‘Don’t cross any roads!’ Rosie shouted the usual warning as they made their way along Bay View Road. They started jumping up and down with excitement when they spotted their grandad’s van parked at the bottom of a driveway. Rosie texted him to make sure it was safe and within a minute Keith was strolling down the drive in his overalls.

‘Hello, girls! What a lovely surprise.’

They both ran forward and nearly sent his crouching form toppling as they flung their arms around his neck.

‘We break up in nine days,’ Naomi held up all her fingers and shouted, even though she was only inches from his face.

‘Not that we’re counting.’ Rosie smiled.

‘I know! Then what will you do for six whole weeks?’ He beamed.

‘I’m going to learn to skip and Mummy is getting us a new paddling pool because we stuck a fork in our old one.’

‘Don’t ask.’ Rosie closed her eyes briefly, pre-empting his questions.

‘And we are going to the beach and we are going to get a pony,’ Naomi finished.

‘We are not going to get a pony.’ Rosie corrected her daughter.

‘You said we could get a pet!’ Leona reminded her.

‘Yes, a pet! Not a pony! I was thinking a hamster, but preferably a fish.’ She rolled her eyes at her father-in-law.

‘Oh, come on, Rosie, don’t be mean, I think a pony is a great idea.’ He winked.

‘Well, Grandad, there’s only one person with enough land for a pony and that’s you.’ She threw it back at him as the girls shouted, ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ and ran around him, as though it was a done deal.

He chuckled. ‘Actually, do you know what, on second thoughts, I think a hamster or a fish sounds like a great idea.’

‘Phil not here?’ Rosie looked up at the three-storey building they were converting into six apartments.

‘No, love, he left early. Is he not home?’

‘I must have just missed him. I went for a coffee and a late lunch with Mel, then straight on to fetch the kids. What a shame – he could have come with me. Never mind, I expect he’s glad of the peace and quiet.’ She laughed as Naomi and Leona raced around the driveway.