The Perfect Husband, page 6
I weakly raised my arm, not wanting to look at the injury.
‘Ohh, Sophie, I think it’s broken,’ she cried out.
‘It’s just a sprain. Ice will take the swelling down,’ Jay reasoned.
‘No! She needs to go to hospital. Now!’
‘Oh, come on! Don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?’
I watched as she shot him a look which silenced him.
Jay wasn’t the sort of person to back down. Nor did he like being told he was wrong.
Liv put her arm around me and started to help me off the beach. I looked back at Jay as he watched us walk away.
‘What were you thinking?’ she asked.
I shook my head. ‘I was looking for Jay.’
‘Why?’
‘He stormed off,’ I answered. I didn’t add why.
Liv looked at me. ‘I need to talk to you, Sophie. There’s something you need to know—’
‘I’ll take her from here, Liv,’ Jay cut in. ‘She is my wife.’
‘No—’ I began, but my words were drowned out as people came running towards us.
‘Oh my God! What’s happened?’ cried Anna, running towards me.
She was followed by Tom and Grace.
‘Oh, Sophie! Are you all right?’ Grace exclaimed. She looked at my cradled arm and then at Jay. ‘What happened?’ she demanded.
Jay ignored her.
‘Shit!’ exclaimed Tom. ‘Sophie?’ he questioned, searching my face. He turned to Jay. ‘What the hell, bro?’
‘She fell,’ Jay answered matter-of-factly. ‘Tripped over her wedding dress and landed hard on her left hand. I think she’s sprained her wrist from the impact. Lucky it was sand and not a rock.’
‘Nah, bro. That’s not a sprain. She’s broken her wrist. You see that?’ Tom said, pointing at my wrist. ‘I have my first aid certificate as a lifeguard and that’s bone bulging through the skin.’
I forced myself to look. ‘Oh God,’ I mumbled. I felt as if I was going to be sick.
Jay caught my eye. ‘You’re going to be fine, babes. I promise,’ he assured me.
I didn’t trust him.
‘Liv?’ I questioned, but I couldn’t see her.
I didn’t want to be with Jay. I wanted my sister.
I tried to move away from him, but Jay had his arm firmly around me.
I could see Liv ahead, talking to a taxi driver in the Driftwood car park. I assumed they must have either dropped someone off or were booked for a collection.
‘Sophie? Oh God, darling…What happened? One minute you were on the dance floor, the next you had disappeared?’ my mother asked.
I couldn’t bring myself to speak.
She expectantly turned to Jay. He ignored her.
‘This taxi will take you to hospital, Sophie,’ Liv called out.
‘Come on, babes,’ Jay said, not bothering to answer my mother as he guided me to the taxi.
‘Mum?’ I mumbled, but my voice became smothered by everyone else’s words. I wanted her to come with me. I didn’t want to be on my own with Jay.
Liv held the back of the taxi door open for me. ‘We’re really lucky as he’s just dropped someone off and is heading back to Truro.’
‘Liv? You’re coming with me? Yeah?’
‘Of course,’ she answered before Jay cut in.
‘I need to help her with her seat belt,’ he said, forcing Liv out the way.
‘I need my phone,’ I said.
‘I have your phone. Remember, you gave it to me,’ he replied. ‘Come on, we need to go,’ Jay insisted, shoving my long wedding train in after me.
‘Wait! Let me get my bag. I’m coming as well,’ my mother said, joining Liv as Jay slammed the taxi door in my face.
‘It doesn’t need all three of us, Joanna,’ Jay pointedly answered.
Without giving my mother or Liv a chance to respond, he jumped in the front passenger seat.
‘Just drive, mate,’ he instructed.
Horrified, I stared at my mother, standing there with Liv, shocked and equally outraged as the taxi pulled away.
Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I stared out, helpless, until they disappeared from view.
Did you see what happened on the beach, Liv? Did you? Did you see Jay twist my wrist back until the bones snapped?
The question played over and over in my mind.
Numb, I gazed at my reflection in the window.
I didn’t recognise the pale, traumatised face staring back.
Hot, salty tears trailed down over my lips as I stared at Jay’s silent figure in the front.
Oh my God, Sophie… who have you just married?
6
THE DAY AFTER THE WEDDING
I felt hot and bothered. My cheeks were flushed, and my skin felt prickly and clammy. The high temperature, coupled with the unbearable itchiness and burning inside my plaster cast was driving me insane. I imagined tiny red ants scurrying all over my hidden flesh.
I slowly breathed out, trying to steady my nerves as I walked up the steps to the Driftwood Spars high garden. I could feel my mother’s and sister’s expectant eyes watching me as I approached their table. They had typically sat outside to enjoy the azure blue sea and beach. I wished they were sitting inside. I was already irritated with the heat. I had a feeling that this meeting was going to make me feel even more uncomfortable.
‘Hey,’ I breezily greeted with a white-toothed smile. ‘Sorry, I’m late. I was waiting for Jay.’
He had returned hours later with no apology or explanation of his whereabouts. He had showered and changed and then insisted that I, in turn, get ready to meet my mother and Liv for lunch as planned. I had argued that I didn’t feel up to it, but he was adamant that we come to assure them I was fine, which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He refused to speak to me on the short drive to St Agnes, instead turning the music up to drown out my questions about where he had disappeared and why he had ignored my frantic calls and texts.
I sat down, avoiding their gazes, and picked up the opened bottle. I poured myself a glass of white wine and took a much-needed mouthful. I didn’t want to be here. Not now. Not ever.
‘You do know you’re not supposed to mix alcohol and codeine, Sophie?’ my mother chided. Her voice was concerned yet, razor-sharp.
Something was wrong.
Of course, something’s wrong!
‘It’s fine,’ I assured her. ‘One glass won’t kill me.’
I could see from my mother’s expression that it failed to appease her.
‘Where’s Anna and Grace?’ I asked, surprised not to see them. Nor were there any wine glasses for them on the table.
They had both messaged me, worried about my broken wrist and how I was bearing up, wanting to hear all about it at lunch. Even Tom had texted, checking I was okay and letting me know he would see me at the Driftwood with the others.
‘And Tom? He messaged that he would be here for 1.30?’
It was now 2 p.m., which made their absences even stranger.
‘Well…’ My mother faltered, cleared her throat. ‘I wanted to talk to you in private first, and so, Tom offered to show Anna and Grace around St Agnes.’
‘Ohh,’ I mumbled, feeling uneasy.
My younger sister’s large dark brown eyes burned me with their intensity.
‘I’m fine. All right?’ I snapped in her direction, unable to hold back my irritation at her for calling Ben and telling him what had happened. It was my wedding and my accident. And Ben was my ex-fiancé. Not hers.
Liv suddenly pushed her chair back and stood up. ‘I’m going to the toilet,’ she asserted, shooting me a look which implied she wanted me to join her.
I ignored the invitation. I wasn’t ready to talk to Liv.
Or my mother.
She waited a moment and, realising I wasn’t coming, glanced at our mother. Something unspoken passed between them. She then left.
‘Jay?’ my mother began, turning her attention away from Liv’s retreating figure to me. ‘I see, he didn’t want to come and see us?’ my mother questioned.
I knew she was annoyed by her tone. She typically spoke in a light, lilting, soft Scottish accent. This was heavier, swifter and harsher, more Dundonian than her usual refined, gentler Broughty Ferry inflexion.
‘He’s busy loading all the wedding gifts and our overnight bags into the Transporter. He’ll be joining us soon,’ I assured her, keeping my voice light.
‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Otherwise, one might suspect he was avoiding us. Which wouldn’t surprise me after stopping Liv and I from going to the hospital with you.’
I remained silent.
I watched as she played with her thick, long, sleek black hair, pulling it back from her attractive face. I was always surprised that she never seemed to age, despite now being in her mid-fifties. Whether her secret was botox and fillers, or a portrait hidden in the attic, like Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray, I couldn’t say. She would never share with me, nor would I ever offend her by asking. It was easier to accept that her genes and privileged life had played a part in preserving her youthfulness. She had married my father, fifteen years her senior, when she was barely nineteen and had me when she was twenty, something that I found unimaginable. And, remarkably, she looked the same as I always remembered her – breathtakingly beautiful.
In contrast to my mother’s sleek black hair, I had tight, coiled springs for hair, which, when left to their own devices, shot out in every direction. Despite the admiring comments my unruly, naturally curly, platinum blonde hair elicited, I had always felt cheated, coveting my mother’s dark, exquisite looks, inherited from her African-Scottish grandfather, who was abandoned by his unmarried mother who left him for a new life in Johannesburg at the turn of the last century. His Ghanaian father, an international actor and musician, paid a white couple in Broughty Ferry to raise him with their children.
‘Sophie?’ my mother prompted, dragging me back to our conversation.
Her conversation.
I knew my mother was furious, and I accepted she had every right to be. She had no idea what had happened to me from when I left in the taxi at 10 p.m. last night until my text this morning. She had endured hours of not knowing whether her eldest daughter was all right. She had called the hospital twice, and no one could update her.
She still hadn’t called me out on my earlier text. Her reply to my message had been terse. I felt bad for not calling her, but I knew if I had, my voice would have betrayed me, and I would have broken down as soon as she questioned me. I was still struggling to process what had happened and why. Jay’s atypical behaviour had hurt me to the core, and I couldn’t let my mother or Liv know because I was too chagrined. I knew they preferred my ex, Ben, to Jay. Ben had been a part of my family for so long. He had spent Christmases and birthdays with us and had been there to support the three of us when my father had passed. Grief had somehow distanced me from him, and we ended up taking a break from one another at his request. But I knew that was a convenient excuse for him having found someone else. I had struggled without him or my father, and the dark days and nights that followed were interminable as deep depression held me captive. Jay had stormed into my life then, much to my surprise and my mother’s dismay, and changed my destiny.
Our destiny.
Ben’s abandonment of me had allowed Jay in.
I took another sip of wine to stop myself from thinking about Ben and his kind, dark brown, almond-shaped eyes and gentle smile. He would never have talked to me or behaved as Jay had done. I could feel the pricking, burning sensation of threatening tears. I swallowed back the wine in a bid to drown my emotions. I didn’t want to cry, not here, but I couldn’t silence the regret that I had taken a chance on Jay.
Ben would never have disrespected my mother the way Jay had.
Or me.
‘He definitely has no children?’ my mother suddenly queried.
‘No!’ I spluttered, taken aback by her left-field question. ‘That’s an odd thing to ask.’
‘Is it, considering his age?’
I ignored my mother’s raised eyebrow.
She looked behind me and smiled as Liv returned.
‘Sophie was just saying that Jay will be joining us after all. It means he can explain himself why he didn’t return any of our calls, or texts.’
I took a sip of wine, looking at my sister over the glass. She had inherited not only my mother’s looks, her deep olive skin, perfect features and willowy figure, but also her temperament.
‘Ben texted me,’ I stated as she sat down.
I noted that she didn’t seem shocked to hear that he had been in touch. But then, why would she be when she had called him later in the evening? I resisted the urge to question why she would call my ex-fiancé. But I knew why.
‘Jay read Ben’s text and… Well, that’s why he stormed off.’
Liv frowned at this information. ‘That’s the reason he gave you?’
I stared at her, not understanding her meaning. ‘Yes. Why? What other reason would there be?’
I waited for an answer, but Liv didn’t respond. Instead, she glanced at our mother.
‘What? What aren’t you telling me?’
‘First, I think you should tell us what’s wrong,’ my mother suggested. ‘I can read you like a book.’
I looked at her, but I couldn’t speak. Shame silenced me.
Don’t protect him. Not now. Not because he’s suddenly acting as if nothing has happened. HE HURT YOU. YOU NEED TO TELL HER!
‘I’m serious, you can tell me anything,’ she insisted.
But I couldn’t bring myself to admit that he’d hurt me. I had willingly jumped blindly and madly into love with Jay without thinking about the consequences. How could I tell her what he had done to me? The names he had called me?
‘Sophie? Please, darling? I know you? I can tell something’s wrong. Did something happen last night on the beach?’
I found myself muttering the words: ‘Jay. He—’
7
I jumped as I felt heavy hands suddenly dig into my bare shoulders.
‘What were you about to say?’ Jay lightly questioned as his fingers pinched my flesh.
I shook my head, then tilted it up to meet his gaze, smiling. ‘Nothing.’
‘Now I’m intrigued. You were about to say something about me. Good, I hope!’ he said, laughing.
‘There’s only good to tell,’ I lied. ‘You scared me then!’ I said in an attempt to change the subject.
Jay laughed. ‘Yeah. I really surprised you, didn’t I? I’m sorry.’
I was struggling to keep up. I felt as if I was going insane.
I nodded, smiling at him while willing my body to stop quaking.
‘Are you okay?’ Jay asked, crouching down to me. ‘You’re shaking? Did I scare you that badly?’
‘No… Just the shock of last night catching up with me,’ I mumbled.
I avoided my mother’s gaze. She could always tell when I was lying.
‘Another bottle of wine?’ Jay asked us.
‘Not for me, thank you,’ answered my mother tightly.
I noted Liv’s stony silence at Jay’s sudden appearance.
‘Sophie shouldn’t be drinking alcohol while taking codeine,’ my mother interrupted as he poured the rest of the wine bottle into my glass.
‘If anything, the alcohol will help her sleep,’ Jay reasoned. ‘She’s had a horrendous night and didn’t get any sleep this morning because of the pain.’
‘None of us have had any sleep,’ my mother replied.
Jay straightened up.
I felt myself squirm inside. I looked up at him. For a brief moment, his relaxed, confident composure slipped.
‘Of course. And I’m sorry that I didn’t get back to you, Joanna. My phone died and, to be honest, I was a bit preoccupied with looking after my wife,’ he said, resting a hand on my shoulder.
I saw a dangerous flicker of anger cross my mother’s dark eyes. I could imagine her holding back from an old Scottish saying she often used with Liv and me as children to silence our irritable whining: Haud yer wheesht, ye wee scunner!
‘And this morning? You couldn’t contact me when you returned home from the hospital?’
‘Ahh… I thought Sophie had contacted you this morning?’ Jay asked, acting confused.
My mother simply looked at him.
‘You did, didn’t you, Soph?’ he asked, turning to me.
I mutely nodded.
Satisfied, Jay relaxed. ‘Right, I need a drink. It’s been a long night! And not the kind of long one I had intended on my wedding night!’ He laughed.
I could see from my mother’s expression she found the reference indecorous.
I felt embarrassed by him.
For him.
For me.
‘I think I’ve earned that pint after carrying all those wedding gifts down to the car park,’ he shared as he stretched his arms above his head.
As he left for the bar, I couldn’t help but note Liv’s startled look of repulsion at Jay’s belly bulging out from under his tight-fitting black T-shirt, accentuated by his otherwise thin body. I knew she was comparing Jay’s short, middle-aged body to Ben’s thirty-five-year-old, tall, athletic build. I was aware Jay’s height was his Achilles heel, not that it bothered me, but I was sensitive to how much it bothered him, especially since my ex, Ben, was his antithesis at six foot three. I resisted the urge to jump to Jay’s defence and explain that I had chosen him for his personality, not his looks. After what had happened with Ben, I doubted I could trust someone as attractive as him again. I had genuinely believed that choosing someone I thought was my best friend, my soulmate, far outweighed physical attraction. I had allowed my brain to rule my heart. But, recently, Jay’s arrogance had made me realise he believed he was as physically attractive as Ben, or anyone else, come to that.
I couldn’t silence the voice in my head. It kept repeating the same question, intent on driving me insane: how could I have got it so wrong?
‘I don’t like the fact that you are so far away, Sophie,’ my mother said once Jay had left. ‘It worries me you being here,’ she continued.
