My Husband's Wife(28)

But it helps to fill in the silent gaps. The sweet, kind, amusing man I met less than a year ago appears to have lost his sense of humour. Instead of being up and down, he’s now firmly down. He no longer tries to cuddle me in bed. But sometimes he takes me in the night – when we are both half asleep – with an urgency that makes me gasp.

‘A dinner party?’ he repeated when he’d finished his mouthful of macaroni cheese. Ed is polite, if nothing else. My latest imitation of a Delia Smith dish is distinctly runny, but he is manfully ploughing on. I’ve ‘progressed’ now from undercooked steak and kidney to overcooked macaroni cheese. Even with two salaries, our budget is tight.

‘Yes,’ I said firmly.

It had been Ross’s idea. ‘How’s it going?’ he’d asked when he’d rung to see how his information had worked out. His voice reminded me, to my shame, that I hadn’t even sent him a thank-you note. And the kindness in it made me well up. It’s strange what a bit of thoughtfulness can do. Or the lack of it.

‘Bit tense,’ I choked out.

‘Because of Ed?’

‘Why?’ My chest tightened. ‘Has he said something to you?’

‘No …’

‘What, Ross?’ My hands were clammy on the phone. ‘Tell me. I know he’s your friend, but I need to know.’ My voice was tearful. I was reaching out to someone I barely knew, but it was true. I did need to know the truth. I was fed up with lies.

‘Are you sure you want to know? I doubt it’s anything really. Just people stirring.’

‘Ross, tell me. Please.’ Surely he couldn’t fail to hear the note of desperation in my voice?

There was a sigh. ‘Davina is going round telling everyone that she had a drink with Ed last Tuesday. I’m sure it’s nothing.’

Last Tuesday? My mind spun as I tried to recall the week. He’d been working late. Suddenly I felt angry. This was my husband we were discussing. We might not have got things right yet, but there was still time. I wasn’t going to let this woman get in the way of my new start. The one I had planned before even meeting Ed.

‘Look, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. But if I were you, I’d do something about it.’

‘What?’ My voice came out like a croak.

‘Have her to dinner this very week. Have lots of people to dinner. Show her you’re a couple.’ His voice hardened. ‘Davina’s not a very nice person. You’re worth ten of her.’

Then, before I could say anything else, he added, ‘And don’t forget to invite me.’

Quite frankly, a dinner party is the last thing I need now that the case is gathering speed.

‘If we can show there was negligence on the part of the boiler manufacturer, it will have a huge impact on the whole industry,’ Tony had told me after agreeing to take us on. ‘But we’ve got a lot of research and interviewing to do. I’ll start with the expert witnesses. Meanwhile, I want you to interview this lot.’ He passed me a list of phone numbers. ‘They’re other people who have reported extreme changes of temperature in their boilers.’

‘Where did you get them from?’

‘It doesn’t matter. We just need to get cracking.’

There’s hardly been time for a break. I shouldn’t be taking one now. Yet here I am. Eight of us squeezed round the little table in our small flat, which I have somehow managed to make rather pretty with paper lanterns and lilies. Lilies everywhere. I bought armfuls from the market. The smell is overpowering.

I’ve also taken great care, on Ross’s advice, to use the ‘our’ word at every opportunity. ‘Our’ new sofa, which we bought together. ‘Our’ plans for Christmas. ‘Our’ wedding photographs. The message is clear. We’re a couple now. Maybe that’s why everyone could make it, despite the short notice. They’re curious to see how we are getting on.

It’s not hard to see that I’ve really got up Davina’s nose. In fact, she hasn’t stopped sneezing from the minute she got here.

‘I’m afraid I’m allergic to pollen,’ she says in between splutters as I remove the large vase from the middle of the table – just opposite her place setting. Obviously, if I’d known, I’d never have bought them. Probably not, anyway.

Ed’s face is a picture as he takes in his ex. He’s an artist. He likes things to look nice. And right now, Davina isn’t fitting the bill.

Even my coq au vin is quite passable.

I am triumphant.

‘Thank you for a lovely evening,’ she splutters before leaving on the arm of the boring man she brought with her. A different one from the last time.

Ross winks at me as he brushes my cheek goodnight.

‘Thanks,’ I whisper in his ear.

‘Any time.’ His eyes sweep over me. Surely he’s not checking me out? Although for once I think I look rather good. I’m wearing a simple white dress that covers the curves I’d rather not show, while revealing the ones that are more acceptable.

‘You look lovely,’ says Ed, as soon as the door closes. ‘At least Ross seems to think so.’

The thought occurs to me that a touch of jealousy on my husband’s part might not be a bad thing.

‘We might have a drink together next week,’ I say casually, as I pull on my washing-up gloves.