An Ideal Wife (22 page)

He had a slightly terrified look in his eye. “Yes?”

“You like Caroline, don’t you?”

He went bright red. “Caroline? I … I don’t know what you mean. I …”

“Do you? Like her? You can tell me if you do.”

He looked at me hesitantly, then managed a half nod. “I … She’s very nice. A nice girl. Way too good for me. And totally against the rules. She’s a client. But if you’re asking if I … like her, then yes, all things considered, when you put it all into—”

“There are two men hitting on her,” I cut in.

“Hitting on her?” Eric stood up, a look of outrage on his face.

“I don’t like the look of them,” I said, holding the door open so that he could see. “It seems to me that she could use some help. Some rescuing.”

“You think?” Eric asked, wide-eyed.

“I think,” I answered, nodding.

“Right, then,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Right then, here goes.” He half-skipped to the door, then turned back. “You won’t … tell …?”

“I won’t say a word,” I promised. I watched as Eric ran toward Caroline and pulled the men away from her. Immediately, I grabbed my bag and ran—out of Eric’s office, through reception, out the door, and down to the car park, as fast as my legs could carry me. I jumped into my car and sped off. I was going to the resource center to finally do something useful. But before I did, I had a few calls to make; the first one was to Ivana. As I’d expected, no one picked up. “Ivana,” I said, when asked to leave a message. “It’s Jessica. It’s about the trunk….”

THE ROAD DOWN TO WILTSHIRE seemed longer than usual. Helen was in the front of the car with me, and Giles was in the back; he’d called me to ask how things were going and had immediately offered to come when I told him. He was the last person I’d spoken to—after Ivana, Hugh, and Chester, and after my visit to the resource center. I’d been jubilant by the time Giles called—I felt amazing for having spoken my mind. I still did—confident and finally in charge of things. Even the men in the Hummer didn’t seem quite so ominous. Anyway, they were in London. And London was getting farther away by the second.

“I’ve never been chased by the Russian Mafia before,” Giles breathed as we drove down the motorway.

“Try acting as a decoy for them,” Helen said dramatically. “I had to keep them occupied so that Jess could escape this morning. Honestly, it was terrifying.”

“Was it?” I asked worriedly. “God, what happened? I saw you drop your bag.”

“What happened?” Helen asked, turning round so Giles could hear. “I’ll tell you what happened. I dropped my bag, and one of the guys came up and started to help me. But the other one saw you and wanted to get the first one back in the car to go after you.”

“You’re joking!” I breathed. “So what did you do?”

“Well, I had to stop them,” Helen said, her hands going up in the air for dramatic effect. “So I burst into tears. And that made the first guy feel sorry for me. He was asking me what the matter was, and I had to make up this whole story while the other one was chomping at the bit. And I knew that at any moment they could have taken out a gun or something. It was pretty intense, I tell you.”

“Wow,” Giles said. “You’re amazing.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Helen said airily.

“Were they Russian?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Helen said. “I think so.”

“What was the accent of the one you spoke to? Was it Russian?”

“Oh, Um, yes. Yes, definitely Russian,” Helen said authoritatively.

“Shit,” I said. “So they must be the Russian Mafia. I was hoping they might be something else. You know, like the police chasing me for a speeding fine or something.”

“In a Hummer?” Giles asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I said ‘hoping,’ not ‘expecting.’ Actually, it was more like praying, to be honest.”

“A Russian accent doesn’t mean they’re necessarily the Russian Mafia,” Helen said. “They could have been any Russian organized-crime gang. Or maybe they were former KGB agents.”

I was about to tell her that didn’t exactly reassure me, but I felt my phone vibrate and saw Hugh’s number flash up. Quickly, I rejected the call. Then, for good measure, I turned my phone off. I’d said all I wanted to say to him in my message; frankly, I never wanted to hear his voice again as long as I lived.

“And they came to your office, Jess?” Giles was saying.

“Yes,” I said, feeling a little less confident, a little less in charge. “Yes, they did.”

Helen turned around to look out the window. “Are they behind us now?”

I checked the side mirror nervously. “No. No one there.”

“Okay, then. We’ve shaken them,” Helen said, turning to Giles. “See? I promised you it would be exciting.”

I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Giles pull a face.

“Tell me again about this Lawrence person,” he said, apparently keen to change the subject. “Your mother met him on Facebook?”

“I guess,” I sighed. “I mean, one minute she’s asking me how to upload photos, and the next minute some guy called Lawrence is in the kitchen kissing her and she’s hanging up on me.”

“Sounds steamy,” Helen said.

I cringed. “Please, Helen. We’re talking about my mother.”

“So you’re going to chuck him out?” Giles asked, leaning forward. “Tell your mother to stop messing around and get married to Chester?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said.

“But I thought that’s why we’re going down there.” Helen looked confused. “To make sure Chester doesn’t flip his lid when he gets back.”

“It was,” I said with a little shrug, “but I’ve kind of changed my mind.”

“You have?” Helen asked interestedly. “Why?”

“Because …” I took a deep breath, then let it out again, slowly. “Because it’s not up to me how she lives her life. I mean, I’m hardly a shining example of how to go about things, am I?”

“You’re not having an affair,” Helen said.

“No,” I conceded, “but I am being blackmailed, and I do have the Russian Mafia on my tail, and I did just walk out of an interview that I needed to pass in order to salvage my husband’s advertising firm and retain our key client.”

Helen digested this for a moment. “You walked out?”

“There wasn’t any point in staying,” I said lightly.

“What happened to being ideal, then?” Giles asked, leaning
forward into the front seat. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but walking out of the interview probably doesn’t constitute ideal-wife behavior.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ideal,” I said. “I realize that now. I don’t think I ever will be.”

“Thank the Lord!” Helen said. “And Max loves you all the same, right?”

I shook my head. “Actually, I don’t think he does,” I said quietly. “But that’ll just make it easier when I tell him about Hugh, won’t it?”

“But—” Helen looked thoroughly confused.

“It’s okay,” I cut in. “Max said I’m not a looking-after sort of a person, and he’s right. He’ll find someone else, and I’ll … Well, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not a what?”

“A looking-after sort of person,” I said, choking up slightly as I remembered the way Max had looked at me—disappointed and resigned.

“Max said that?” Giles asked incredulously.

I nodded. “It’s no big deal. Actually, it’s a good thing. I’d never have measured up to Max. This way I don’t have to.”

“But—” Helen protested.

“But nothing,” I said firmly. “That’s the end of the matter.”

“So we’re going down to Wiltshire to … what, meet Lawrence?”

“To talk to Mum. And to hide the trunk,” I said.

“Doesn’t sound very exciting after all,” Giles said disappointedly.

“We’re still being chased by two men in a Hummer. Two Russian Mafia men,” Helen reminded him.

“That’s true,” Giles said, brightening slightly. “And, on that point, is there any reason that we’re driving below the legal speed limit? Shouldn’t we be racing against the clock or something?”

“I’m tired of racing,” I said. “Anyway, Ivana’s trunk is really heavy. I think that’s slowing us down. Besides, we’re here now. Look.”

Giles’s eyes were out on stalks as we pulled into the drive. “Oh my God, is this it? It’s amazing. It’s huge. It’s like a stately home!”

“Yeah,” I said, then frowned when I saw a car I didn’t recognize in the drive. Helen caught my look.

“That’s his car?” she whispered.

“I guess,” I said.

“So are you ready to face your mother’s lover?”

I nodded. “I’m ready,” I said.

I got out of the car, and Helen and Giles followed. I didn’t know whether to ring the doorbell or use my key, or what on earth I was going to say when I saw my mother—or Lawrence, for that matter.

But my mind was made up for me; the door opened and my mother appeared, her expression apprehensive. “Jess. You’re here.” She smiled at Helen and Giles. “Hello,” she said warmly. “So nice to see you both.” Then she looked back at me, her face anxious again. “I’m so glad you came. I need to talk to you. I need to tell you something.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “But first let me say something. I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain yesterday. If you’re in love with this Lawrence guy, then that’s fine. I’ll be supportive. If you want me to tell Chester that the wedding is off, I will. You’re my mother and I love you, and so whatever you want to do is fine by me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Mum said uncertainly. “If you say so. But—”

“But nothing. You heard her,” a voice said; Lawrence was walking toward us. “She wants you to cancel the wedding, Esther. I say do it. I say let’s tell Jess here the truth and start our lives together.”

“The truth?” I looked up in alarm. “So the wedding really is off?” I’d kind of hoped Mum would tell me that Lawrence had been a big mistake—or, better, a misunderstanding.

“No,” my mother said quickly.

“Yes,” Lawrence said, equally quick, then he smiled at me. “The thing is, Jess … The thing that your mother wants to tell you is …”

“Is?” I asked, turning to my mother when he trailed off.

She met my gaze awkwardly. “It’s about your father, Jess.”

It took me a few seconds to digest what she’d said. “My father?” I eyed her suspiciously. As far as I knew, I had no father. Well, obviously I had a father, but not one I could track down. He was an impoverished student who had moved to the States when I was a baby. My mother was afraid that he wouldn’t be able to provide for us, so she’d dumped him and told one of her rich suitors that
he
was the father. It had worked, too—for all of a few months. Then she’d got tired of the drudgery of motherhood and started to gamble, using his money. When that dried up, she turned to dodgy moneylenders, who became so keen to get their money back that she faked her own death and dumped me with Grandma.

“The thing is, darling, Lawrence … Well, he’s your father.”

“Father?” Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I looked at Mum uncertainly. “You’re joking, right? Because it’s not funny. It really isn’t.”

“I’m not joking,” Mum said fretfully. “He found me on Facebook.”

“On Facebook,” I said, turning to stare at this man—Lawrence—who was apparently my own flesh and blood.

“He … he just turned up,” Mum said. “I tried to tell you, but—”

“She’s right. I’m your long-lost dad, Jess,” Lawrence said, grinning at me. “The moment I saw Esther’s picture on that website I
knew I had to see her, knew I had to find you. The fact is, Jess, I’ve come home.”

I looked at them in disbelief. I could feel Helen and Giles standing stock-still behind me, waiting for my reaction. I watched my mother scrutinizing my face for a clue to what I was thinking. I didn’t know myself. I felt suspended in time, as if nothing was real, as if I was dreaming. I was finding it hard to breathe. It was the excitement. The fear. The surprise. I felt hot. I felt clammy. “Jessica? Jess? Jess, are you all right?” a voice said, and then there were dots in front of my eyes, dancing, getting bigger and closer. I tried to nod, I tried to speak, but I couldn’t; I was slipping downward. I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop the walls from closing in on me, blocking out the light as I fell to the ground.

And then everything went black.

“Jess! Jess, are you okay?”

I opened my eyes groggily. I was on the doormat outside the front door. Oh God. I pulled myself up to sit. I felt terrible. I’d fainted. I mean, what was I, the heroine of some swoon-fest or something?

“Darling, you look awful. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you like that.”

“I’m fine,” I said, as Helen and Giles helped me to my feet and through the door. Mum led the way to the kitchen. “I don’t know what happened. I just …” I stopped suddenly; the dots were there again, closing in on me, threatening to topple me once more. I took a deep breath and leaned on Helen, letting my head drop, trying to work out what was going on. I was at the house. Mum had been telling me about …

“He’s really …” I looked back to see Lawrence walking behind me. “You’re really—”

“Your dad. Yes, I am,” he said. He spoke easily, as if it was no big deal.

We’d gotten as far as the kitchen; Helen guided me toward a chair. “I think you need to sit down,” she suggested.

“He’s my father,” I said, my eyes wide as I sank into the chair. “I’ve got a father.”