Page 123 of Wife After Wife
Janette knewexactlywho she felt like. One of her all-time favorite books wasRebecca. Right now, she was very much the second Mrs. de Winter, forever in her predecessor’s tall, slim, elegant shadow, knowing she could never match up to her cool sophistication. Harry was, of course, the perfect Maxim de Winter—self-confident and erudite—while Terri was the mad Mrs. Danvers, forever watching through narrowed eyes, needling her with barbed comments, reminding Janette of her unworthiness to follow in Ana’s footsteps.
Janette had never understood why Terri and Ana had got on so well, being such different women. Ana’s smooth path to the top had been like Harry’s—the result of a privileged background, expensive education, and impeccable social network. Conversely, Terri was from a working-class family and had fought her way up entirely on her own merits.
Anyone who’d come up against Ana had been dealt with via a withering glance and frosty silence, while Terri would tell people exactly what she thought of them using the strongest language.
Janette knew they’d laughed about her. The silly little secretary with a crush on her boss. And now that she and Harry were together, Terri’s opinion of her seemed only to have worsened. Janette had appealed to Harry about Terri’s attitude, but he’d only laughed and said she was a law unto herself, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Don’t worry, it’s not just you,” he’d said. “She hates everybody.”
“Your girls coming up for your fortieth, Harry?” asked Terri.
“Yes. They’ll be staying at my sister’s. Six daughters between us—it’ll be quite the madhouse.”
“I can’t wait to meet Eliza,” said Janette. She was still in Wales with Katie, but Harry was hoping to bring her back to London soon.
He smiled. “You’ll love her. She lights up the room, and I know I’m biased, but that’s because she’s incredibly bright.”
“Takes after Ana, then,” said Terri.
There was an awkward silence, then Janette said, “Harry, you’re looking quite tired. Would you like to leave soon?”
“Who are you, his mum?” said Terri. “It’s his fortieth, for fuck’s sake!”
“I’ll give it another ten,” said Harry. “And in the meantime I need to... excuse me, ladies.” He headed off in the direction of the restrooms.
Janette knew what he’d do when he got there. Harry’s attempts to kick his painkiller habit seemed to have stalled.
•••
An hour later they were back at the apartment, and Janette was sitting beside Harry on the bed, giving him a massage.
“You know what, Janette?” he said as she gently kneaded his leg. The scars had faded now, and his recent exercise regimen had returned his body almost to the size it was six years ago, in Manchester. As she slid her hands up his muscular back, she once again wondered how this spectacular man had come to be hers.
“What, Harry?”
“Of all the things I could be doing to celebrate my birthday, I can’t think of anything better than this.”
“Really? That makes me very happy. I know I’m not beautiful or clever, like your wives...”
“Janette, don’t put yourself down. I don’t want beautiful or clever. I want loving and kind and sweet...” He flipped over and propped himself up on his elbows. “And maybe, as it’s my birthday...”
“The special underwear?”
“Well, that would be nice, but what I was going to say was, maybe you’d agree to be my wife?”
Harry
As they relaxed at Charles and Megan’s after a birthday lunch, Harry and Janette shared news of their engagement.
Harry caught the looks on their faces. They didn’t think Janette was a suitable third Mrs. Rose. He didn’t care. He was sure when they realized how happy she made him, they’d understand. Being with Janette reminded him of his early days with Katie. Life was easy—no dramas, no point scoring, just a comfortable companionship and cozy times in the bedroom. Plus, Eliza needed a mother, and Janette would be perfect.
“Bit soon, isn’t it?” said Megan.
Janette blushed, her eyes lowered.
“We’re not in Victorian times,” Harry said. “There isn’t a compulsory mourning period. Why would we wait?”
“Fair enough,” said Charles. “Congratulations, then. When’s the big day?”
Harry was grateful to his friend for addressing the question to Janette.
