The Younger Wife(9)

‘Dad!’ Tully tried again, but the waiter was already approaching the table.

Stephen glanced at the wine list for a second or two before sighing helplessly. ‘A bottle of your best champagne, please. And four glasses.’

‘Three,’ Heather corrected. ‘None for me.’

Stephen frowned at her. ‘Really? You’re sure?’

Heather wasn’t sure. Heather was rarely sure of anything. It was an unappealing trait, she’d always thought. Get a spine, she told herself constantly. Be more decisive. She’d decided yesterday that she wasn’t going to drink today. Or at the very least, she’d only have one. It had felt like a prudent decision at the time.

Heather never trusted herself after a couple of drinks; she relaxed a little too much. All the bad decisions she’d made in her life, all the ones she regretted, had happened after a couple of drinks. Today she wanted to be on her best behaviour. After all, she knew how she must look to Stephen’s daughters. A new, younger girlfriend. They’d assume she was a gold-digger or someone with daddy issues. She’d suggested they wait another six months or more before she met the girls, but Stephen had insisted. She envied his certainty that they would love her. It was yet another thing that she wasn’t sure of.

Three sets of eyes were staring at her. She had, she realised, made a faux pas. Heather had spent enough time in the middle-class world to know the rules, even if she didn’t understand them. Champagne was a team sport. When it was suggested, regardless of the time, date or occasion, the correct response was to squeal and clap. If someone didn’t want to partake, the wind was taken out of everyone’s sails.

‘Just one glass,’ Stephen cajoled. ‘It’s a special occasion.’

‘All right,’ she said. ‘You’ve twisted my arm.’

‘So,’ Tully said, the second their glasses were full, ‘what’s this announcement?’

‘Tully has always been like this,’ Stephen told Heather. ‘When she was little, she was the one up at dawn, desperate to open her Christmas presents, while Rachel was still fast asleep.’

‘Dad!’

‘Fine.’ Stephen smiled, reaching for Heather’s hand. ‘I’m very excited to tell you that Heather and I have decided to get married!’

Heather hardly dared to look at Rachel or Tully. Unlike Stephen, who seemed utterly certain that his daughters would be delighted for them, Heather knew how this was going to land. No matter how polite this family was, no matter how hard they slapped on the strained smiles, this was not going to be good news for them.

‘Well,’ Rachel said. ‘Well, that’s . . . wow, that’s really . . .’

Tully didn’t even attempt to hide her horror. ‘You can’t get married. You’re already married to Mum!’

Stephen’s smile dimmed only the slightest bit. ‘Straight into the logistics, that’s my Tully-girl.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll admit, there are some things that need to be worked out. And I’ll include you both every step of the way. But the main thing is . . . Heather and I have decided we want to spend our lives together.’

‘Include us every step of the way with what?’ Tully demanded.

Heather picked up her drink and took a large sip. She felt a whisper of irritation at Stephen. Why had he been so determined to announce it now? They should have taken it slower. Met the girls a few times first, then announced the engagement down the track. She hadn’t even worn her engagement ring. She was delighted about the engagement – ecstatic, even! – but sometimes even the most charming of men were hopeless when it came to reading a room.

‘You’ll wait until . . . until after Mum passes away, I assume,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s not like this is going to happen soon.’ It was ostensibly a statement, but Rachel looked at her father for confirmation.

Heather took another sip of her drink.

‘Well,’ Stephen said, ‘obviously Mum is very healthy – physically, at least. And’ – Heather felt his gaze on her, but she studiously avoided eye contact – ‘we can’t keep our plans on hold forever.’

The girls fell silent. At a table nearby someone started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and a waiter appeared with a cake.

‘So . . . what are your plans?’ Rachel asked finally.

Stephen sighed. ‘I’ve met with Bill Thompson, and he said we can be granted a divorce, under these circumstances.’

‘You’re going to divorce Mum?’ Tully cried.

‘It’s just a formality, Tully-girl. Mum doesn’t even know we’re married most of the time. And of course I’d continue to look after her – and you. Mum would get sixty per cent of our assets, which would be handed down to you two after she passes.’

Tully and Rachel appeared so bewildered, Heather didn’t know where to look.

Eventually Rachel was the one to speak. ‘This is a lot. I don’t know quite what to say!’

‘Why don’t we drink to it then?’ Stephen suggested, lifting his glass.

Hesitantly, the rest of them followed suit. But after they clinked their glasses together, Heather was the only one who took a sip.





4


TULLY


The day after the lunch, Tully sat in the car park of Westfield and looked in the rear-view mirror. Items were strewn all over the back seat of her Range Rover, spilling into the footwell – a silk camisole, a pair of Lululemon running leggings, a leather wallet. There was also a fine gold necklace, a pair of toddler scissors, and a packet of post-its. A random assortment of items, but it didn’t matter what it was. That’s what most people didn’t get about her habit. It wasn’t about the getting. It was about the taking. She’d determined, a while back, that she was an addict. When the urge to put something into her handbag or stuff it under her sweater overcame her, she was powerless to stop herself. Most of the stuff she stole was later stored in the garage, stuffed under beds or dropped off at charity shops. Heather’s wallet, for example, she’d handed in to the police station yesterday with all cash and cards accounted for.