Page 148 of Wife After Wife

When she’d begun to make money and a life for herself, she started to say no. Then one or two of the nicer men she’d dated had made it through the armor, and she felt something, responded in a way that told her this might actually be pleasant, if she worked on suppressing those negative memories.

And then she’d met Frankie, who finally lit her fire.

Could she have both Harry and Frankie? Frankie was bad for her, she knew that. But he had a hold over her she couldn’t break. Harry was good for her. She’d felt herself sparkling under his gaze tonight. She knew it wasn’t her mind he was attracted to, but he did seem to enjoy her company.

Why? She had no idea. She was no Katie or Ana. Had no education, no particular talent. And she was damaged goods. But perhaps Harry would help her put all that behind her, launch her into a new life of comfort and security—maybe even fame. He’d been pretty interested in the reality TV idea.

She snuggled further into the arms of this man who was so knowledgeable, confident, and worldly. His arms tightened around her, and she felt something new: safe.

CHAPTER 46

Harry

January 2009

You can’t beat a real fire, thought Harry, feeding another piece of the dead Christmas tree into the wood-burning stove.

“One more time, Daddy?” said Eddie, from the sofa.

“Really? I’ll be saying it in my sleep!”

Harry returned to sit beside his son. On this chilly winter’s night, Eddie was snuggled into his fluffy green dressing gown. The pointy white teeth of the dinosaur hood framed his little face, which looked so much like Janette’s it tugged at Harry’s heart.

“The more it snows

Tiddely pom...”

As he read the Winnie-the-Pooh hum, Eddie joined in with the “tiddely poms.”

Harry had worked from home that day, as England was in the grip of something that belonged in the Arctic. Or perhaps it was from Russia with love. The Russians were of course in the habit of bringing over things capable of causing paralysis.

Deep snow had caused much of England to grind to a halt, and inthe process had transformed the garden and Richmond Park beyond into Narnia. Harry had spent the afternoon making a snowman with the children, and hauling them through the park on the sledge. It had been a carpe diem moment, abandoning the computer for the outdoors and acting like a kid, throwing soft little snowballs at Eddie and proper ones at Eliza, who was deadly accurate with return fire. It was time to get her some top-notch tennis lessons.

When they arrived home, their hands had been numb with cold, and Lisa had made them mugs of hot chocolate to warm them up.

“No marshmallows in mine,” Harry had said, patting his tummy, and Eliza reminded him of the time Ana had called him a Tubbybelly.

“You remember that?” Harry had been surprised—she could only have been three or four.

“Yes, I don’t remember doing many things with Mummy, but that was the day we went to the pirate-ship park with Chess and Helena.”

Harry tended to block any thoughts of Ana that tried to wheedle their way in, but for once he allowed himself to remember. That had been the morning of his accident. They’d been making bacon sandwiches in the Chelsea house, the summer sun streaming in through the French doors.

Harry closedThe House at Pooh Corner, and his thoughts of Ana. “Right, young stegosaurus. Time for bed.”

“I’ll take him, Dad,” said Eliza, jumping off the armchair where she’d been curled up with her own book.

He experienced a moment’s sadness at the new name—he wasn’t Daddy anymore. Eliza was growing up so fast, already a mini version of the smart woman who was surely going to blaze a trail through whatever field she chose. In her school reports, her teachers had run out of adjectives to describe her abilities. Mostly they just began, “Eliza continues to...” alongside the usual bank of As and asterisks.

“Come on, Iddie,” she said. Lisa’s Kiwi pronunciation had become his nickname.

Eddie slid off the sofa, his slippers making a soft thud on the thick carpet.

Harry switched on the TV, where that night’s episode ofDirty Rascals, his popular reality TV series, was about to begin.

“Oh, Dad, you’re not watching that rubbish again?” Eliza said.

“It’s work. I was supposed to be doing that today, remember?”