Page 21 of Wife After Wife
“Oh yes, that one all those years ago wasn’t the last. He’s very careful, but one develops an instinct. So... why don’t you get a nanny, spend more time with Harry, just the two of you. Go on a few weekends away, make him feel the center of attention. It’s going to be hard to forgive him, but you two have been through such a lot. Youcanwork it out. I bet the affair was just for sex. Probably meant nothing.”
“No. He loved her. He told me. And he won’t abandon his son.”
“Oh. Really? But... that’s good too? That he’s meeting his obligations? Don’t move away, Katie. You have friends here, and Harry’s close to work. If you bury yourself in the country, he won’t be home until god knows what time. You could grow further apart.”
“He’s never home until late anyway. I have to face the truth. Things will never be the same. I have to make a life for myself and Maria that doesn’t depend on Harry being around all the time. I really need that fresh start.”
Saying it out loud gave form to the emotions and thoughts that had been whirling around in her head since Saturday.Things will never be the same.But she could make the most of what she had, even if that didn’t include trust.
•••
Harry and Katie reached a compromise—out of London, but not the deepest countryside. They sold Berryhurst and bought a beautiful period house in Hampton Court. It was only half an hour into Waterloo, was reasonably close to the Surrey Hills, and Maria would go to an eminently suitable Catholic school within walking distance. Life Mark II was about to begin.
CHAPTER 9
Katie
June 1991
Katie Paragon, well, I’ll be damned!”
Katie turned to see a woman wearing a red Frisbee-shaped hat on a mass of frizzy brown curls. Her generous bust jiggled as she bounced up and down in excitement, holding her arms out wide.
“Good grief—Heather Althrop-Brown!” said Katie, relieved she’d managed to locate the name, filed underAncient History/School. She stood to hug her old friend. “It’s Katie Rose these days. How wonderful to see you!”
“Still Althrop-Brown for me. Can’t be doing with the whole name-change nonsense. Can’t hyphenate either—husband’s surname is Hartington-Green. Also it sounds like an Essex village. That’s him over there—the short bald one chatting up the redhead.”
Katie introduced Harry, Charles, and Cassandra. They were seated at a round table in a marquee, at Gemma and Jonathan’s wedding reception.
Maria was a bridesmaid and hadn’t taken kindly to being trussed up in a froth of lemon yellow. Her vocabulary now included a disproportionate number of words forstupidandno, most of which she’d used when Katie told her the happy bridesmaid news.
She was a feisty child. “Fire in her eyes,” Germaine had said. “You need a firmer hand.”
Katie was enjoying herself more than she had in a long time. She’d bought a cerise suit and matching hat and shoes, and had had her hair cut in layers after Cassandra told her, “It’s time to ditch the bob.” Everyone said it suited her.
The noise in the marquee was increasing, in direct proportion to the number of empty wine bottles scattered across the tables.
“Come and sit with me for a bit,” said Heather, linking her arm through Katie’s. “We’ve got so much to catch up on.”
Soon the pair were roaring with laughter as they knocked back champagne and reminisced about boarding school.
The music started, and the bride and groom took to the floor, slow dancing to “Lady in Red.” Harry would be making some derogatory remark about Wet Jonathan’s poor taste in music. He loathed Chris de Burgh.
“They’re playing your shong!” Katie said, pointing at Heather’s red dress.Oh, I seem to be a little drunk.And why the bloody hell not!“C’mon, Heather, keep up!” She topped up their glasses and raised hers toward Heather. “Chin-chin!”
“Bottoms up!” said Heather. “Hey, well done on the husband front. What a bloody dish—and rich with it!”
Katie looked over to Harry, jaw-droppingly handsome in his dove-gray morning suit, and her good mood dropped a few notches. A curvaceous blonde was sitting in Katie’s seat, leaning forward toward Harry, her eyes locked on his.
Cassandra and Charles had joined the couples smooching around the dance floor, and Katie had a sudden longing to be up there with Harry. When was the last time they’d slow danced?
Nearly two years after she’d rumbled his affair, things between them had inched back to some sort of even keel. Bennie had moved to St. Albans, and last year had married the local vicar, the Right Reverend Gilbert Blunt. For some reason Harry found this hilarious. They were toofar away for Harry to visit often, but he sent regular payments for Henry. Bennie’s last note had suggested it might be better if Harry stopped seeing his son, as Gilbert was keen to adopt and didn’t want to confuse the little lad.
The subject of Bennie and Henry now rarely came up. Which was fine by Katie.
She knew they’d never reclaim the happiness of those early years together, but as time went on she realized this was just how things were for so many people. Why had she ever thought she and Harry would be different? He probably still loved her but wasn’tinlove with her. It was enough.
She hadn’t become pregnant again (yet) but, acknowledging the wisdom of Cassandra’s advice, had tried not to make an issue of it. Recognizing that she needed a life of her own, she’d begun training as a counselor specializing in fertility issues. Harry didn’t think it was a great career move, but if she could help others who’d been through what she had, that was good enough reason for her.
