The Silent Wife(100)

I nodded and stopped myself launching into a rude retort. Christ, it was bad enough Francesca making me feel like an outsider without random strangers joining in.

‘That was Francesca Farinelli, Caitlin and Nico’s daughter, who just won that race?’

I stared at her, wondering where she was going with this. Contrarily I wanted to keep that information to myself. I’d obviously been hanging out with Lara too often. ‘Yes. Do you know the family?’

‘Yes. I knew Francesca when she was a tiny baby. She’s a few months older than my son. But we moved to Newcastle and lost touch with them. It was just the name that rang a bell.’

I wanted to ask if she knew that Caitlin had died. I wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette of a conversation along the lines of ‘I didn’t break up their marriage, you know, she died.’

She paused for a moment. ‘Are they all still living in Siena Avenue in Brighton? Anna as well?’

‘Yes.’ I didn’t know how to add in, ‘Well, all if you don’t count Caitlin.’ If she carried on like this, I’d be watching my rear-view mirror for a tail on the way home.

I never used to be suspicious of strangers. Once, when Nico and I had been lying in bed, messing about, doing a silly list of the ten things we loved most about each other, he’d said, ‘I love how you assume everyone is your friend. How you chat to everyone, the woman in the post office, the dog tied up outside the supermarket, the bloke with the toffee vodka at the checkout.’

For whatever reason, I’d blundered through life for the last thirty-five years expecting a welcoming reception. But now I’d experienced what it was like to have someone wage a campaign of indifference and sometimes out-and-out hate, I was more guarded with everyone.

Poor woman. Here I was all secret squirrel when she was probably just a family acquaintance, casually interested in hearing their news from the last decade or so. I couldn’t help feeling slightly pissed off, though, that it fell to me rather than some other mutual acquaintance to break the news about Caitlin. But the moment passed before I managed to get the D-word onto my lips.

The woman put her head on one side. ‘I didn’t know Nico and Caitlin had got divorced.’

I was going to have to say it. I hoped she wouldn’t start crying. That really would be the ultimate irony, me comforting some stranger over Caitlin’s death.

‘Um, Caitlin died nearly three years ago.’

The woman gasped. ‘Oh my god! Poor Nico and Francesca!’

I hoped I wasn’t going to witness yet another person raising their eyebrows as they looked at me and thought, ‘Christ, he’s gone for a completely different type.’

But before I had to supply any more details, a boy about Francesca’s age walked up to us, his dark hair a tangle of wet curls. Francesca would have called him ‘fit’ for sure.

‘Hi Mum. That’s it. I’ve finished. They’ve cancelled the last few races because the electronic timing system has broken. We can go.’

The woman smiled and said, ‘This is my son, Ben. He swims for the Tyne and Wear under-fourteens.’

I said hello and tried not to stare. I didn’t feel as though I was meeting him for the first time. My brain was ferreting about, searching for where I’d seen him before. There was something so familiar about the way one eyebrow lifted higher than the other when he smiled, the front tooth that just crossed slightly over the other, those huge dark eyes.

‘Does that mean the girls’ under-14 freestyle 50m isn’t happening?’ I asked.

‘Nope. Everyone was packing up to leave down there.’

I was torn between disappointment at not seeing Francesca race again and pleasure that I could spend a bit of time with Lara and her dad before he had to go home.

Ben’s mum opened her handbag and fished out her purse. ‘Do you want to go and get a sandwich from the cafe before we drive home?’ she asked, handing him a fiver.

He took the money. ‘All right. Do you want anything, Mum?’

‘No, I’m fine. I’ll wait for you outside the front.’ She picked up her coat. ‘Nice meeting you. Have a safe journey home.’

I stood up. Some desire to prove I was as classy as Caitlin made me stick out my hand. ‘I’m Maggie, by the way.’

She hesitated, just for a second. ‘I’m Dawn.’





42





MAGGIE




I didn’t manage to get my filter in place in time. Or even rein in my index finger. I pointed straight at her, mouth open, which of course allowed the words, ‘You’re Massimo’s first wife’ to escape.

She nodded. ‘That’s me.’