Their Very Special Marriage (9 page)

‘It depends,' she said, ‘on whether you want to stay married or not.'

‘I thought you were on my side, Cally?'

‘I'm not on anyone's side.' She spread her hands. ‘And
I've already told you what I think. You need to get your priorities sorted out.'

‘Yeah.' He took a swig of his coffee. ‘I hate Monday mornings. Everyone's saved up their weekend ailments. And because it was sunny yesterday, I've got a rash of bad backs because everyone did tons of gardening without bothering to stretch or warm up their muscles properly first. I've got a huge list of test results to chase—
and
I promised Rach I'd pick Robin up, because she's meeting her mother at the train station.'

‘I could pick him up for you,' Caroline offered.

Right. And by the time he got home, she and Rachel would have talked. A lot. And Rachel would be even angrier with him than she was now. Oliver couldn't face a full-blown row. The coolness between them was bad enough—he didn't want to risk making things even worse. ‘No, it's OK.' Then he realised that he had the best excuse ever. ‘He doesn't know who you are and we've taught him not to talk to strangers.'

‘Fair enough.'

‘I'll just have to shuffle my appointments about. Unless...' He gave Caroline his most charming smile. ‘I don't suppose there's any chance you could cover for me this afternoon, is there?'

‘Sure.' Caroline grinned. ‘You big chicken. I know why you're keeping me well away from your wife, you know. And you're being very silly.'

Oliver felt his face grow hot. ‘I don't know what you mean.'

But whatever Caroline was going to say, she stopped when the door opened and Prunella came in. ‘Dr Bedingfield, the lab's just phoned through with the results you wanted for Megan Garner.'

‘Thanks, Prunella. I'll come and get them.' Oliver smiled at the secretary. ‘See you later, Cally.'

* * *

Oliver was playing football with Robin in the back garden when Rachel and her mother got home.

‘Daddy, Daddy! Nanny's here!'

Sophie launched herself at him, and he caught her up and swung her round. ‘Hello, Princess Spotty.'

‘I'm not a princess, I'm a mermaid,' Sophie informed him seriously.

‘Right. Mermaid Spotty, then.'

‘Mermaids don't have spots.'

‘You do,' he said, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘Robin, come and give Nanny Ann a big hug hello.'

Rachel's mother greeted Robin with a hug and kiss. ‘You'll be as tall as your mum soon, if you keep growing at this rate!' she teased. ‘Hello, Oliver.'

‘Lovely to see you, Ann. Thanks for coming down and helping.'

‘My pleasure.'

He got a hug and a kiss from his mother-in-law, too—so maybe Rachel hadn't told her mother that things weren't good between them. That was a relief. Having Ann in the house might reduce the strain between them, then, rather than make things worse. Or maybe Rachel
had
told her mother, and Ann had pointed out that Oliver wasn't perfect—he was doing his best but he was only human, and any marriage needed a bit of compromising here and there.

But the hugs and kisses stopped there. Rachel had already gone to put the kettle on. He sighed inwardly. If she'd just kissed him hello, he'd have felt better about things. Was it so much to ask? ‘I'll take your things up, Ann.'

‘Am I in my usual room?' she asked.

‘Yes.' The spare room. The room that Rachel had spent yesterday evening tidying up—and when he'd asked if he could help, she'd simply snapped that perhaps he could give the children a bath for once. Oliver thought the children
were old enough to bath themselves without needing supervision, but had decided not to argue.

Rachel seemed less touchy over dinner. Ann was the perfect buffer, Oliver thought. He'd always liked Rachel's mother: Ann was warm and open and had accepted him right from the start. Unlike his own mother's attitude towards Rachel. Even the children hadn't completely mended the fences between them.

He needed to mend a few fences himself. Only he wished that Rachel would meet him halfway instead of expecting him to make all the effort. ‘Rach, I meant to tell you earlier—I had those test results back today. Megan's immune to chickenpox, so there's no need to worry. I saw her in the playground this afternoon, and told her the good news.'

‘Thanks.'

Was it his imagination, or were her eyes warm again? Please, let her be warm again. Please, he prayed.

To his pleasure, she didn't turn her back on him in bed that night. She actually cuddled into him. Hallelujah, he thought. Everything's going to be all right again.

And then she began stroking his thigh. He froze. They couldn't make love, not with her mother next door! He placed his hand on her wrist. ‘Rach. We can't.'

‘Why?'

‘Because your mother's sleeping in the next room,' he hissed.

She sighed. ‘Oliver, it's not as if we're teenagers, needing to creep around and pretend we're not doing anything we shouldn't be doing. We're
married
. It's perfectly normal for married couples to make love.'

‘Even so, it doesn't feel right.'

Almost as if she guessed at the source of his embarrassment, she said softly, ‘We can be quiet.'

He shook his head. ‘I'm sorry. It just doesn't feel right.'

She extracted her hand from his grip. ‘Whatever.' She
sighed. ‘Oliver, I can't remember the last time we made love.'

The accusation in her voice annoyed him. ‘And that's my fault, is it? When you always go to bed early?'

She scowled. ‘Says the man who spends most of his time in his study.'

‘I'm the senior partner. You know I have to put the hours in to do the admin.'

‘Maybe you should consider reorganising,' she said in a cross whisper.

Oh, no. Not this again. ‘Dad's always run the surgery that way.'

‘But you aren't your father. And, as you just said, you're the senior partner now. So surely it's up to you?'

‘No, it's not. I can't just throw everything away that he's worked for.'

‘I'm not asking you to throw it away! I'm just asking you to spend more time with us. The way you're carrying on, you're missing Rob and Sophie's whole childhood—and you won't get that time back.'

‘You're being unfair.'

‘Am I?' She shook her head. ‘The other day, you said I needed evening primrose oil. Maybe
you
need Viagra.'

And with that she turned her back, making it clear that the conversation was over.

Oliver lay there, fuming. How
could
she say something like that? He wasn't impotent! He was just tired—tired from working too bloody hard to give his wife and kids a nice life, keep his parents happy and keep the whole village well. It wasn't as if he was one of those men who came home from work, sat in front of the telly and didn't move for the rest of the evening, or the sort who spent every night out at the gym and the pub with his blokey mates—he was
working
. And he wasn't to blame for their non-existent sex life.
He'd made enough overtures. Every time Rachel had refused them, saying she was too tired. It
wasn't
his fault.

Resentfully, he turned his back. But sleep was a long, long time coming.

* * *

‘Toast?' Rachel asked as Oliver came downstairs.

‘Sorry, no time for breakfast this morning.' He grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl.

She frowned. ‘What's the rush? I thought surgery didn't start until half past eight.'

‘It doesn't. I've got a meeting with a drug rep.'

‘Right.'

‘Don't bother waiting dinner for me tonight. I'll go straight from the surgery to my course. I'll get myself a pizza or something on the way home.'

‘As you wish.'

Hell and double hell. She'd gone frosty on him again. But what was he supposed to do—give up his course? Make someone else see the drug reps? Oliver kissed the children goodbye and left the kitchen before he said something to Rachel he'd regret.

‘Why's Daddy angry?' Robin asked.

‘He's not angry,' Rachel said. Though she was. She was absolutely furious with Oliver. Her mother had come to help and he'd taken full advantage, meaning that he was spending even
more
time at work, instead of grabbing the chance to spend time with her. She forced herself to smile at her son. ‘Eat your breakfast. Nanny Ann's going to take you to school today, Rob.' She busied herself making Robin's packed lunch and checking he had everything in his school-bag.

When Ann returned from taking Robin to school, she distracted Sophie with some play-dough and sat Rachel down. ‘Will it help to talk about it, love?'

Rachel froze. Surely Fi hadn't told their mother about Oliver's affair? ‘What did Fi say?' she asked carefully.

‘Just that you were going through a bad patch. Which I can see for myself,' Ann said gently. ‘You're both tired, both working too hard.'

Rachel shrugged. ‘Don't tell me, tell Oliver. He doesn't think it's a problem.'

‘Maybe you need some time to talk. Why don't you go out to dinner tonight? I'll look after the children. They'll be perfectly fine with me.'

‘Thanks, Mum, but I can't. It's Oliver's course tonight.'

‘Tomorrow, then.'

Rachel sighed. ‘He'll be late home. Surgery always over-runs.'

‘Then just go out later,' Ann said. ‘Talk to each other. You're both tired, you're probably both snapping at each other, and resenting each other, too. Take some time out. Try and remember what you love about each other.'

‘Yeah.' She loved Oliver. She just wasn't sure that he still loved her. Especially now Caroline was back. His lost love. The woman he'd never, ever told Rachel about. The secret in his past that he'd never, ever discussed with her.

When she went to pick Robin from school that afternoon, her worries increased.

‘Caroline Prentiss? Really?'

Rachel knew that eavesdropping was a very stupid thing to do, that she'd only learn something she really didn't want to know, but she couldn't help herself. She listened in on the conversation.

‘Yes, she saw me this morning at the surgery for my blood pressure. She looked amazing. Not a line on her face, not even the hint of a wobble under the chin. You'd never believe she was getting on for forty. She doesn't look a day over twenty-five.'

Oh, great. So Caroline Prentiss was a glamour puss. Well,
she already knew that from Ginny. It had been too much to hope for that the years had changed Caroline into someone ordinary instead of someone stylish.

‘She's working at
our
surgery? I didn't think she'd come back after...well, you know,' the woman added in a whisper.

What? After Caroline had walked out on Oliver? Or after Oliver had broken her heart? I need to know, Rachel thought. I need to
know
.

She was almost at the point of turning round and talking to the mums behind her, asking them about Caroline. But then the classroom doors started opening and each child was let out as soon as the teacher saw someone was waiting for them, and the playground became the usual hubbub of shouts and laughs and screams of delight and feet thudding on tarmac, and the women behind her stopped talking about Caroline.

‘Mummy!' Robin ran straight to her.

‘Hello, darling.' Rachel hugged her little boy. ‘Had a nice day?'

‘Brilliant. We did art, and I made a puppet theatre, and...'

Rachel made all the right noises, but she wasn't really listening. All she could hear was that snatch of conversation.
She looked amazing. Not a line on her face... She doesn't look a day over twenty-five.
Rachel definitely had lines—in common with just about any woman who had small children. Lack of sleep played havoc with the blood supply to the skin below your eyes. Result—dark shadows, and lines which etched deeper with every broken night.

Whereas Caroline looked ‘amazing'. Designer clothes, Rachel guessed, and time to spend on herself so she looked good. Regular workouts at the gym, facials, time for a proper haircut, time to shop so that her clothes actually matched—all the things Rachel never did. Caroline Prentiss definitely wouldn't wear her hair pulled back in a scrunchie.
And hadn't Ginny said that Caroline was the type who could look fabulous in a dustbin bag?

How on earth could Rachel compete with that? She was just...ordinary. Just like all the rest of the mums in the playground—a little tired, a little harassed, never having enough time. Being glamorous was, well, a luxury. Something reserved for birthdays and anniversaries, and even then only if she could get someone to babysit the kids to give her an extra ten minutes with her make-up.

Feeling frumpy, defeated and generally out of sorts, Rachel stomped home next to her son, still making ‘mmm' and ‘lovely' noises in the right places.

* * *

Oliver was late home from his course that night. Had he stopped off to see Caroline on the way home? Rachel wondered.

No. Of course not. If she started thinking like that, she'd go mad. She didn't want to become a paranoid, jealous, nagging shrew. ‘Coffee?' she asked, forcing herself to smile at him.

‘Thanks.'

‘Soph's not asleep yet. Mum's reading her a story.'

‘That's nice.'

So Oliver was treading just as carefully as she was. Rachel suppressed a sigh. How had it come to this? ‘Do you want me to cook you an omelette?'

‘No, I had a pizza with some of the others afterwards.'

Right. So that was why he was late.

‘I did say.'

Great. And now her thoughts showed on her face. She sighed. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Me, too.'

But he didn't kiss her, or even hold her. And she couldn't bring herself to make the first move. Not when he'd rejected
her last night. ‘Um, Mum said she'd babysit tomorrow night. Maybe we could go out to dinner.'