Page 104 of Wife After Wife
Harry was besotted with his little daughter. He changed nappies, got up in the night, took her for walks in the buggy. Watching them together made Ana happy but, on the whole, motherhood hadn’t been great for their relationship. The return to bedroom normality was a relief, but there was something missing. She didn’t look too closely into what that was, for fear of finding out.
She hadn’t returned to work yet. They’d decided she could do with a decent break, after moving to their new Chelsea home and having a baby. So she didn’t have much of interest to talk to Harry about. She even bored herself, as she described walks in the park, sleeping patterns, baby milestones.
After nearly five years, Harry’s divorce had finally come through. Frustrated with Wolston’s failure to bend the law, he’d sacked his faithful old servant and employed a ruthless lawyer by the name of Cranwell. He was an obsequious snake who made Ana’s skin crawl, but he’d somehow managed to shave a few months off the waiting period. With her mother’s warning ringing in her ears, Ana had made sure everything was in place for their wedding.
They’d decided on a civil ceremony at the Chelsea Old Town Hall, followed by a reception at the Ritz. Harry had suggested keeping it simple, thinking Ana would be too tired to organize a big affair. Megan was too busy to help, having just had another baby, Helena, herself. But although Ana was prepared to downsize from the glorious castle she’d chosen for the aborted wedding to Percy, there was no way she was goingto relinquish any of the pomp and ceremony appropriate for her marriage to Harry Rose.
It was the long- (so very long-) awaited day, and Ana took stock of her feelings as she climbed the town hall steps. There was triumph; she’d finally made it, after all these years. She would be Mrs. Rose, wife of a powerful man whose influence was growing daily.
Happiness? That was there too. Though it was so entwined with triumph and relief that she wasn’t sure it deserved its own heading.
She swept into the ceremony room on her father’s arm, and triumph surged as she smiled at the eminent politicians, the business tycoons, a carefully chosen bunch of celebrities, as well as relatives and a small group from the office. She saw Maria, sitting with Megan. She must have been the only ten-year-old in history who’d askednotto be a bridesmaid, because she thought bridesmaid dresses were “stupid.” Charles was best man, of course. Merry had made her excuses.
Harry turned, and she saw his intake of breath, heard others as she passed. She was wearing a simple ivory silk gown that forgavenothing. Her shoulders were bare, and the back was cut low. Her glossy black hair was piled on top of her head in curls, and she held a small bouquet of creamy flowers. She was the living embodiment of the less-is-more fashion philosophy.
She noted the look of dismay on Janette’s face as she swept past.Never mind, Moneypenny. Oh yes, she knew about the silly little nickname that still made the ridiculous secretary dissolve into giggles.
But now Janette and all the others were behind her, and here was Harry, indecently handsome in a dark blue suit, looking at her like he used to all those years ago, when she was still a challenge.
The ceremony was short. When the celebrant said Harry could kiss his bride, he pulled her into his arms as though it was the first time, and happiness inched ahead of triumph.
She linked her arm through Harry’s and they made their way down the aisle, past VIPs, grinning friends and relatives, and Janette, whose puffy red eyes were ringed with smudged mascara.
They honeymooned in Menton, in an achingly beautiful villa shared with Eliza, the nanny, and a local cook and housekeeper. Days in the pool with Eliza, sleepy afternoons when the heat was intense, a little light sex, delicious meals outside under the stars, walks in the old town.
“It’s so divine here,” said Ana. “I could happily live in Provence. Maybe we should buy somewhere.”
“La Vie en Ana Rose,” said Harry. “Funny you should say that. Welcome to your wedding present.”
•••
“And baby came too. Not your traditional bonkfest, then,” said Terri, on Ana’s first day back at work, a month later.
“Not exactly, no. But it was lovely.”
“Glad to hear it. Welcome back, Mrs. Rose.”
Terri was the only person who seemed pleased to see her. “Fuck, you’re thinner than before you were pregnant. How’s that even possible?”
“Lack of sleep, probably. For new and less-fun reasons. Terri—what happened to your ‘fook’?”
“I’m turning into a southerner, innit? Anything you want to catch up on, babe, just buy me an expensive lunch and I’ll fill you in.”
Someone had taken over Ana’s old office, and she’d been allocated space on the finance floor. It was much bigger and had a great view over the Thames. But the department was silent, the accountants’ heads down, the only sound the tapping of keyboards and the ringing of phones, any conversation muted and murmured. Already she missed the buzz of the third floor, with its music and chatter, the creative vibe as people swapped opinions, ran ideas past each other.
Outside her door was her assistant Mark’s desk. He’d already disappeared on one of his fact-finding missions. In her absence he’d been seconded to the sales department, and she suspected he was back there, gossiping with his mates.
Next to her computer was a pristine notepad with neatly laid-outpens. She doodled a little artwork on the pad, just to put her mark on something. She needed to speak to Harry. Her managing editor role was a non-job, a sop. With the benefit of hindsight, she saw that clearly now. She didn’t want to be stuck up here shuffling papers while Rose forged ahead. She wanted to be part of it.
She picked up the phone. “Harry, please,” she said to Janette, fiddling with the cord as she waited.
“I’m sorry, he’s not here this morning. Can I take a message?”
“Where is he?”
A pause. “Shall I get him to ring you back this afternoon?”
“Does he have his mobile?”
