Authors: Charlotte Oliver
But I had to put on makeup—Jack hated it when I went barefaced. He said it made me look like I didn’t care about him enough to make an effort.
What’s wrong with you?
I screamed at myself.
Don’t you remember what Tam told you?
Shh! Maybe Tam was wrong,
I retorted desperately.
Maybe he just wanted to pull me.
I knew that was stupid—Tam had made it quite clear that he
didn’t
just want to pull me. But it was a nagging doubt that I clung to. Maybe Jack—my husband—loved me after all. It was possible. I so badly wanted it to be true.
I stared into the mirror for at least a minute before I decided to slap on some foundation. And then some blusher, because I looked pale. And then mascara, because my eyes looked like they’d faded away to nothing. And then some lip gloss. Just as a finishing touch.
After doing all that, I had to blow dry my hair or I’d just look stupid.
I couldn’t help but be disappointed in myself as I stood there, dutifully combing out my tangles and parting my hair the way he liked it. Always so concerned with what he thought. Pathetic.
As a last attempt to rebel, I pulled on Sharon’s favourite royal blue sundress, the one with the circle skirt. Just the kind of vulgarity he hated. I stuck my tongue out at my reflection.
Then it was time to open the front door. Jack may see me immediately, depending on which way he was seated; he was probably looking out onto the garden this moment, waiting for me to step out.
I don’t want to do this. I hate him.
But he said he wouldn’t leave till he saw you. Doesn’t that say something?
I shook my head violently.
Keep it together. Remember what you know now. Things have changed—you can’t pretend they haven’t.
I don’t know how but I opened the door eventually, and I even kept my head up as I did it.
Is this how I always felt around him, before? So afraid?
I saw him. Or, to be exact, I saw his hair—the back of his head. And there was Sairi, and Michelle. Sharon’s gaze was trained on me, and I saw a flicker of something unreadable on her face as our eyes met.
She moved her head almost imperceptibly, beckoning me. I had to move. I had to walk, even though my whole body was screaming at me to run in the opposite direction. I caught more and more snatches of conversation as I neared the open French doors of the patio. This was it. Jack. I was going to talk to him. Maybe even touch him.
And he stood, turned around, and there was his face. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, cutting Sairi off mid-sentence. I hadn’t heard his voice in aeons and I was completely unprepared for the feelings it would evoke.
I stood under the shade of the milk-wood tree, caught on the threshold all over again, unable to decide. Do I go to him, fall on him, weep with joy and relief and regret? Or something else?
“Hello,” I said, trying to make my voice even. I was exquisitely aware of the sun on my back, bare in Sharon’s halter-neck dress.
“Come on,” I heard Sharon mutter. “Kitchen.” She ushered the other girls out, giving me another look. Another bottomless, cryptic look that I couldn’t understand.
But all this was peripheral. Jack hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “You’ve been on my mind so much,” he said sadly, and held his hands out to me, inviting me towards him.
Deep emotion seemed to smoulder in his words, and it was hard not to allow my own thoughts—my doubts, my decisions—to fall to ashes at the sound of it. This was an assault of some kind. Something was happening to me—I felt like Superman faced with a surprise package of kryptonite. Why did I feel so weak under his gaze? What unseen thread pulled me, inexorably, towards him?
Bravely, I remained where I was. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t betray myself like that, no matter how desperately I wanted to run into his arms. I saw him glance at my hand, my empty ring finger, and I felt a spasm of panic.
“I’ve missed you.” His voice was low now. He was coaxing me.
“What are you doing here?” I managed to say, my throat thick and heavy. I didn’t mean to sound rude, but it was all I could think to say.
He smiled sadly. “You’re annoyed with me for sending Tam. You are, aren’t you?”
“Of course not,” I replied, without thinking. I had thought I was so ready for this conversation, but now, almost reflexively, I wanted him to forgive me.
Love me again,
I begged silently.
Who knows what I felt
I
needed to be forgiven for. For leaving, maybe? But I’d had a good reason. A reason that was confirmed. I wasn’t going to bend.
“I know you’re annoyed. I’m sorry,” he said, earnest, stepping towards me. “It’s just that I knew you’d be angry with me for being such a knob. Tam’s the only one I trusted to talk to you sensibly.” He paused. “I would’ve rung if I’d had a number.”
I wanted to scream an apology. I managed not to. Instead I took a deep breath and said: “Why did you marry me? Iknowthatsoundslikeastupidquestion, butIreallyneedtoknow.”
“It’s not a stupid question. It’s a good question.” I heard an intake of breath. “Tam has told you a lot of upsetting things. Hasn’t he? About my inheritance?”
I was confused by the immediate, overwhelming relief that overtook me before I’d even comprehended what he was saying. Did this mean I didn’t need to interrogate him? That he was going to tell me everything? There was hope yet. Despite everything, there was hope.
Why had I given up so easily?
He still held my gaze, his face soft with concern. “Tam’s been bitter about the inheritance for a long, long time, darling. He’s not happy about me inheriting anything and he’ll do whatever he can to throw a wrench in the works. Even if it means splitting us up.”
I nodded slowly. This made sense. This was the truth.
“You must understand that I was only worried about the money because I wanted to give you the best life I could. And when the trustees told me that they doubted the authenticity of my claim— well, I admit, I threw in the towel. I thought you’d reject me if you knew the debt I was in.” He paused. “I want you back, Ava. Can you love me if I’m poor?”
Hot tears of relief and regret rolled down my face. Relief at what he was telling me, and regret for not believing the best of him.
“Darling?” he said after a few seconds’ silence. “Won’t you come over here? I’ve missed you so much.”
“Yes,” I whispered, hoarsely. And I stepped towards him. He clasped my hands in his and, just like that, we were wrapped in each other again, as if we’d never been apart.
Never again. Never again was I going to doubt him. How could I? How could I have thought he would lie to me? After all the love between us, that perfect understanding that we never had to force? I couldn’t believe I’d taken Tam at his word. Thank goodness it was all over now. “I’ve missed you so much too,” I said, tearfully, into his shoulder. “And I don’t care about the money. I never cared about the money. Do you remember when we—” I was thinking of when we were in Paris, running down the Seine after midnight, pretending to play tag. And how, after we made love, we went up onto the roof of the hotel and looked at the City of Lights, bright with promise.
But he cut me off. “We need to get to the airport, darling. We’ve got to get back. When is your ticket booked for?”
Don’t be so sensitive,
I reproved myself.
Don’t spoil this memory by getting upset with him. He just wants to get home.
“I’m not sure,” I said truthfully: “I haven’t booked a ticket yet.”
“That’s no good,” he said, pulling me away so we were eye-to-eye again. I thought his voice seemed hard, but I saw no change in his face. He was himself—wonderful, handsome, loving Jack, my favourite person on earth. Jack! Here in Cape Town. Here, coming after me.
“Let’s do it tomorrow,” I said quickly, “I would have, it’s just I haven’t had time.”
I searched his face, my confidence wobbling. Why would he ever need to lie? And anyway, if all he had to do was marry someone to get at the money he wanted, why hadn’t he married Jemima, for example? She threw herself at him enough. Why choose me?
The question rang in my brain. Of course! That was it! That was the key: why would Jack have married me when he had a million girls to choose from? The only explanation that made sense was the one that Jack had given me. And so it all made sense—that was why, in my heart, I’d forgiven him even before I understood. It was right. It made sense. All this had been nothing but a moment of madness.
“Tomorrow sounds fantastic,” he replied, smiling, and joy poured through me. When he stepped forward to kiss me, I nearly fainted with love. “And we’re going to work everything out, Ava. I promise. It’ll be like Paris again.”
“I love you.” I didn’t care that I sounded pathetic. I wasn’t pathetic. We were in love again, whole again, happy again—and it felt wonderful.
He smiled at me again, with that look of indulgence that made my knees weak. How had I got along without him? “Come on. Get your things. Let’s go somewhere lovely together.”
I couldn’t run back to the room quickly enough. Packing—clothes. My things. It was time to gather them up and leave this awful time behind. This time full of mistakes and misunderstandings.
Joyfully, I fished my ring out of its under-my-pillow hiding place, and nearly broke the chain trying to force it onto my finger. I would never take it off again.
I’m so glad nothing serious happened between Tam and I,
I thought, almost sick with gratitude.
Imagine if we’d slept together?
But I still felt a hideous pang of guilt. It had gone too far. I vowed to make myself an even better wife to Jack than he would ever need. Then, if he ever found out, maybe he would forgive me . . .
“What are you doing?” It was Sharon, behind me, come to look for me. I turned, wiping the tears of relief from my face, knowing that I must have looked suffused with shock and joy. Michelle stood at her side, looking worried. I suppressed a surge of irritation—some people didn’t know when to be happy. “Sharon,” I began, breathless, “you won’t believe it!”
“Let me guess,” said Sharon dully. Michelle elbowed her in the ribs. “What happened?” she asked sweetly.
I opted to ignore her lack of enthusiasm, and continued enthusiastically. Once she understood everything, she’d be happy for me, wouldn’t she?
“Tam was lying. He was lying all along! It turns out that Jack already
knew
what Tam had said to me. I didn’t even have to bring it up! And he explained everything so clearly. You see, Jack only wanted the money because he wanted to take care of me better—and then the trustees doubted his claim. I’ll bet it’s because Tam put ideas in their heads. And Jack says Tam—”
“—is pissed off about not getting an inheritance of his own? So he’s trying to ruin his brother’s chances? Really, Ava. I could have made that bloody story up myself.”
I felt as if she had slapped me. “Why do you have to ruin this for me?” I said, shocked.
She scowled. “You should be asking why you’re ruining things for yourself.” And with that, she got up, turned on her heel, and walked off.
I gaped with shock.
When I turned to Michelle to commiserate with her, I was pained to see the expression of pity on her face.
“Ava,” she said gently, “you’ve got to understand where she’s coming from.”
“Why does no-one want to see things work out?” I said, suddenly tearful. “Why’s she only satisfied when I’m miserable?”
She put her arm tightly round my shoulder. “You know that isn’t true. She’s only looking out for you. She wants the best for you.”
“What if Jack
is
the best for me?” I said, desperate.
Patient as Job, she said: “Maybe he is, Ava, but from where I’m sitting, at least, I can’t see why you’d believe him over Tam.”
“But I
love
him,” I sobbed.
“That’s just not enough,” she said sadly, as she squeezed my shoulder. “Not enough at all.”
I don’t know exactly why, but when she said that it made me so angry. I wriggled out of her grasp. “This is exactly what I thought was going to happen.”
Michelle looked resigned. “What, Ava?”
“I knew you’d think the worst of me, and of him. I knew you’d decide what was best, and try to force me to do it.” That was a lie. It hadn’t even occurred to me that my friends wouldn’t be happy for me. But telling the truth didn’t seem as important in that moment as hurting Michelle as much as I could—even though it wasn’t her who’d just walked out when I needed her. “All it is—is you’re jealous that I have a husband who loves me.”
“This isn’t secondary school, Ava,” said Michelle. She sounded tired.
For a moment, just a single moment, I saw myself through her eyes. I could see how ridiculous I was being. But I was so hurt, and I didn’t want to see it that way, anyway. I couldn’t turn back now. “You’re just jealous because you’re all alone.”
Michelle’s face broke into an expression of such sincere, heartbroken disappointment, that I wanted to fall at her feet in apology. But I just couldn’t do it. Things had gone too far.