Their Very Special Marriage (15 page)

‘Am I going to die from it?'

‘Not in the immediate future,' Rachel reassured him.

‘But there's no cure?' Michael guessed.

‘No. But I can make you more comfortable. The damage to your lung tissue means your lungs can't supply your blood with oxygen as well as they should do. So that's why your chest feels tight, you're short of breath when you walk and you've had that nasty cough.'

‘Even though I'm not bringing anything up?'

‘Even though you're not bringing anything up,' she confirmed. ‘I can give you something to reduce the inflammation which will help you breathe more easily. But you're also more likely to get chest infections, and you're vulnerable to TB. I'd recommend that you have a flu jab every year, plus a vaccination against pneumococcal infection, which is one of the most common causes of pneumonia. Do you smoke at all?'

‘No. I gave up twenty years ago.'

‘Good—because smoking will make your symptoms worse and will also speed up the progress of the disease.' She paused. ‘The good thing is that you're not exposed to silica any more. You can claim compensation under the Industrial Injuries Act—I can get some forms sent to you, and I can help you fill them in if you like.'

‘Thank you.' Michael shook his head. ‘Sorry, I can't really take this in. So when I was a potter, my job ruined my lungs?'

‘I'm afraid so.'

He bit his lip. ‘I'm retiring this year. Peg and me, we were going to go to Australia and see her cousins.'

‘You can still go.'

‘But if I can't breathe properly... I thought this was just a chest infection and it'd clear up with antibiotics. Or that it was asthma or something.'

‘I'm sorry, Michael.'

‘How long have I got?'

‘We can't tell. All we can do is keep a close check on you and give you regular X-rays.'

He stared at the floor. ‘I don't know how I'm going to tell Peg.'

‘She'll probably have a few questions, so if you'd like me to be there when you tell her, I can do that.'

‘Thanks, Doc. It's just...I wasn't expecting this.'

‘I know, and it's a horrible shock.'

‘Peg and me, we'd better make the most of every moment, then.' He swallowed hard. ‘I'll, um, ask Rita to make us an appointment, shall I?'

‘That's fine. Try and get her to squeeze you in for tomorrow.' Rachel smiled sympathetically at him and printed out a prescription. ‘This is for an inhaler—pretty much the same as you'd use if you had asthma. It'll help reduce the inflammation in your lungs and make it easier for you to breathe. I'll also send you for regular chest X-rays so we can keep an eye on what's happening.'

‘Right.'

‘If you find that breathing's harder than usual, I want you to come straight here and see me so I can check out if you have a chest infection and give you something to clear it up. I won't think you're being a nuisance—and if you leave it, you'll feel really rough,' she warned.

‘Message received, Doc.' He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I think I need to see Peg. Tell her I love her. It's things like this that make you realise what's really important in life, isn't it?'

‘Yeah. You take care.' Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat as he left her consulting room.

Supposing it had been Oliver seeing his GP and discovering that he had industrial lung disease? She couldn't bear the idea of him suffering. Or, worse, losing him.

Seeing Michael had confirmed what her heart had known
all along. She loved Oliver. She didn't want to lose him. Their marriage was definitely worth fighting for, so she was going to beat Caroline at her own game and make Oliver fall back in love with her and out of love with Caroline. If Oliver wanted someone more glamorous and less mumsy, then that was exactly what he'd get. Rachel wasn't going to confront him and make demands: she was going to let him choose for himself, so he'd stick with his choice and never regret it.

And she'd make absolutely sure that
she
was his choice, not Caroline.

She picked up the phone, switched to an outside line and dialled the other woman's number. To her relief, the vicarage answering machine clicked on. ‘It's Rachel,' she said. ‘I'm sorry, I won't be able to make lunch today.' Lying wasn't something that Rachel approved of. But sometimes you needed to bend the rules, and now was one of those times. ‘I've got a headache and I'm feeling rotten. Perhaps we can make it another day?' Not that there'd ever be another day.

Luckily Thursday was Sophie's full day at nursery and Rachel had the afternoon free. Another phone call—and a favour owed—meant that she was well on the way to phase one of her plan to save her marriage. She banished the little ‘what if?' to the back of her mind. There would be no what ifs. She and Oliver were going to make it. Full stop.

* * *

‘Are you sure about this, Rachel?' Yvonne asked. ‘I mean, it's a big change.'

‘I'm sure,' Rachel said.

‘Your hair's been mid-length for ages.'

‘It's time for a change.' No more scrunchies. She wanted
glamour
.

‘It's going to come as a shock. Short and a different colour,' Yvonne warned. ‘You'll look in the mirror and howl.'

‘Honestly, Yvonne, it's what I want. You know when you get into a rut and you've looked the same for years, and maybe you've grown out of the style?'

‘All right.' Yvonne looked thoughtful. ‘But I don't think red hair's going to be you.'

With mousy hair, the other option was blonde. ‘I don't want to go blonde.' Rachel definitely didn't want to make herself into a carbon copy of Caroline. She wanted
different
.

‘How about a compromise? A few copper highlights mixed with a few golden ones. It'll take a bit longer, but I think the results will be worth it.'

‘I'm in your hands. Just make me look...' Rachel sighed. ‘Well. As if I've made an effort.'

‘Is it your wedding anniversary or something?'

Something. Like my husband's having an affair, and I want to remind him what he's missing. ‘Let's just say I'm having a bad hair day,' Rachel said lightly.

Two hours later, Yvonne stepped aside and let Rachel see herself in the mirror.

‘Wow,' Rachel said softly.

‘Like it?'

Rachel nodded. Her new look was going to knock Oliver's socks off. All she needed now was a new dress, some new make-up...and for Ginny to babysit for her tomorrow night. Oliver wasn't going to know what had hit him.

* * *

‘Hello, love.' Rachel smiled at Oliver when he walked in. ‘Coffee?'

‘Thanks.' He frowned. Something was different about Rachel. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was different. Or maybe it was just the fact that her premenstrual bad mood had passed. At least she was smiling at him for once. ‘How are you feeling?'

‘Me?'

‘Caroline said you'd cancelled lunch because you weren't well.'

‘Oh.' She looked slightly taken aback, and Oliver felt his pulse speed up.

Was Rachel lying to him? But why? She hadn't been home, that was for sure, because he'd called her to see how she was feeling and ask if she wanted him to bring anything home. She hadn't answered the phone. At the time he'd thought maybe she just hadn't heard the phone—maybe she'd gone to lie down and had switched the phone off upstairs. Now he wasn't so sure. But if she hadn't been at home, where had she gone instead?

‘I had a headache. Probably because it's been hot today. I took a couple of paracetamol.'

Maybe he'd been right the first time and she'd switched the phone off upstairs and had a nap. Oliver felt himself relax again.

‘I thought it might be nice to go out tomorrow night.'

‘Hmm?'

‘Dinner. You and me. And then maybe Saturday afternoon we can have some family time—take the kids to the beach or something. We haven't been to the seaside for ages.'

True. Because parking at the beach was a nightmare in the summer months, particularly at weekends. ‘If it's as hot as it was today, it'll be crowded and we'll never get a parking space,' he grumbled.

‘Of course we will. A paddle, a sandcastle, an ice cream and then fish and chips. What do you say?'

If he said no, he'd look churlish. And she was right—they hadn't taken the children to the beach for a while. Maybe this was what they needed, some family time. Maybe then Rachel would relax, and the strain between them would dissolve. ‘OK.'

‘Great. Ginny said she'll babysit for us tomorrow night.'

She'd already organised it, without checking with him first? Then again, at least she was showing interest in him. ‘Have you booked somewhere?'

‘No, but I will.' She handed him a mug of coffee and smiled at him. ‘If I book a table for eight, that'll give you time to see Friday's last-minute panic appointments first.'

Her eyes were sparkling—he hadn't seen Rachel look like this in years. Not since very early on in their marriage, he thought. Definitely in the days pre-kids. So what had changed overnight?

Then his stomach felt as if it had dropped to the floor. Had someone else put the sparkle in her eyes?

No, of course not. He was just being paranoid. Worried that he'd lose her and someone else would snap her up before he realised what had happened. And she was right. Dinner out would be good for them.

* * *

So far, so good, Rachel thought the following evening. OK, so Oliver hadn't actually noticed that she'd had her hair done, and it hurt. Even the children had commented that her hair was a different colour and much shorter, and people had noticed at the surgery. But she shoved her disappointment aside. She knew it wasn't the kind of thing that Oliver, being a typical man, would notice, so she wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. At least he'd agreed to spend some time with her. That was the most important thing.

He'd actually called her from the surgery to say that he was on his way home. Their babysitter would be here any moment now. And Rachel had dressed to kill, in a little black dress she hadn't worn for months and the garnet-and-silver earrings her sister had bought her for her birthday. Tonight she was going to vamp her husband—to the point where he'd forget all about Caroline Prentiss.

‘You look, uh, nice,' Oliver said when he walked in the
door and saw Rachel on the sofa, both children cuddled up to her as she read them an adventure story.

‘Thank you.' She smiled at him. ‘Ginny's going to be here in a minute, so you'd better have a shower and change.' She deliberately uncrossed and crossed her legs, so Oliver would notice that her dress definitely didn't reach her knees—and she was wearing lace-topped hold-up stockings.

She was rewarded with a bloom of colour across his cheekbones.

Good. So at least he still fancied her. She could build on that.

‘I thought we could have a glass of wine, too.' They weren't going to get roaringly drunk, just have a couple of glasses, enough to relax them but also enough to put them both over the limit for driving. Champagne, maybe. Something to help her put the fizz back into their marriage and wipe Caroline from his mind.

‘I'd better stick to just one. Just in case we get called home.'

Just in case he got called out to a patient, more like, Rachel thought, suppressing a sigh. OK. She'd stick a bottle of champagne in the fridge for when they got back. ‘Right.'

She could see him looking at her legs, and hid a smile. Oliver always had been a leg man. And she was planning to wear very high heels tonight instead of the sensible flat shoes she usually wore. Tonight Oliver wasn't going to think about anything except his wife.

‘I'll, um, have a shower.' He was still looking at her legs.

‘See you in five minutes?'

Ginny was already there when Oliver came downstairs.

‘Have a nice time and don't worry about a thing. I've got your mobile phone numbers and the restaurant number in case of emergency, but there won't
be
an emergency,' Ginny said firmly. ‘Now, off you go.'

‘Thanks, Ginny,' Oliver said, kissing her cheek.

‘You're a star,' Rachel added. ‘Now, you two, behave—you do exactly what Ginny tells you and you go to bed when she tells you, OK?'

‘We will,' Robin and Sophie promised together.

Rachel smiled. If the children went to bed late tonight, they'd wake up late tomorrow. Which meant she'd get an early-morning cuddle with Oliver. A cuddle that might turn into more than just a cuddle. Her pulse beat hard with anticipation as Oliver opened the front door for her. She deliberately walked the way she'd seen models moving on the catwalk, one foot straight in front of the other to make her hips wiggle. And when Oliver opened the passenger door for her and his hand brushed over her bottom, her pulse speeded up another notch. It was working. Everything was going to be all right.

They'd chosen their food, Rachel had drunk a glass of wine perhaps a little too quickly, and she was just about to slip off one shoe and caress Oliver's ankle with her toes when she saw him grimace.

‘What?'

He retrieved the mobile phone from his pocket. He'd obviously switched it to silent vibrate mode.

‘Home?' she asked, worried.

He shook his head. ‘Rach, I'm on call. I can't ignore this.'

Why the hell hadn't he asked someone else to cover him for this evening? Just
one
evening, that's all she'd wanted. The disappointment must have shown on her face because he actually looked shamefaced, but he still answered the call.

‘I have to go,' he said when he'd switched the phone off again. ‘It's Niamh Brady—she's having a severe asthma attack and her mum's panicking.'