What His Wife Knew by Jo Jakeman

Author:Jo Jakeman [Jakeman, Jo]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473560598
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2022-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Beth Lomas

With Oscar home where he belonged, I felt a huge sense of relief. Even in this reduced form, it felt right that he was here with me. Molly was staying at her dad’s house hoping to rebuild her relationship with him. She said it was just until she could find a job, and that she’d go wherever work took her, but I was hoping that she could be persuaded to make a life here in Hellas Mill once she saw how lovely it could be. And how much I needed her.

Only now that Oscar was dead did I realise that my entire life had revolved around him, his family and his friends. He had been my best friend and we had done everything together, leaving me little time for other friendships. Since Esther and Vince had gone home I’d not heard from them. Harvey hadn’t called. Miriam was silent. I wondered whether I was considered part of the Lomas family anymore. For the sake of the children, I hoped so. But, in case we were being set adrift I had to start looking to the future.

I stood in front of Oscar’s open wardrobe with a stack of cardboard boxes, and a handful of black bin-liners. It was a high diving-board moment; something I was dreading but would ultimately be worth it. Today I felt strong enough to tackle it, but who knew what tomorrow would bring. I slipped Oscar’s shirts from their hangers and held them to my face. I touched his cuffs and thought of the times I’d helped him as he’d struggled to get his cufflinks in and remembered how I’d watch his reflection in the mirror as he tied a Windsor knot. Strangely intimate moments that I hadn’t realised I’d miss.

I folded the shirts carefully, as if Oscar might wear them again one day, and laid them in the bottom of a cardboard box. The ties I lay flat, and then I changed my mind and wound them into tight balls like a tray of Danish pastries. He owned about thirty ties but only wore four of them regularly. All were Christmas presents from the children or me. I wished I’d been more inventive in my gift-buying, but Oscar decided that Christmas presents and birthday presents for each other were a waste of money. We struggled to find something the other wanted and would inevitably spend money that wasn’t necessary. ‘Commercialism gone mad,’ he’d say.

‘Remember the reason for the season,’ Esther used to say, as if to celebrate Christmas with gaiety was an affront to God himself. I always thought that any reason to show people how much they were loved was a good thing. However, Hallmark’s profit margin around Valentine’s day was enough for my husband to declare he would never celebrate such a thing. Cards? Waste of money. Restaurants? Overpriced, to take advantage of romantic sops. He said he didn’t need a specific day to tell me he loved me. Now I looked

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