The Other Wife: A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense

The anger I’d got so used to carrying with me since I’d arrived at school flared up. I didn’t care about Christmas dinner or growing breasts, but I wanted to shake them and shout at them until they saw that not having those things didn’t matter one bit. Helen and I were perfectly happy without them.

Helen’s fingers closed around my hand and I pushed the anger aside.

‘Girls – don’t dawdle. The bus won’t wait for you.’ We all turned to see one of the nuns coming down the stairs, followed by a woman we had never seen before. ‘And Miranda, perhaps during Christmas you could think about our Lord and his teachings about being kind to others.’

‘Yes, Sister.’ The girls left quickly.

The sister smiled at Helen and I. ‘So girls, you will both be with us for the summer again?’

‘Yes, Sister.’

‘Well then, I would like to introduce you to our newest member of staff who has just joined us. This is Miss Temple.’

Miss Temple smiled. Her hair was dark red and her eyes were golden brown. She had painted fingernails. They were a soft, shiny pink and when she moved her hands, as she did when she talked, the pink caught the light. She wore a blue dress with a white collar, not unlike our school uniform, but on her it looked elegant. ‘You’re not a nun.’ The words were out before I could stop them.

‘No.’ Miss Temple’s smile spread wider.

‘Miss Temple is the first of our lay staff,’ the Sister explained. ‘We will be taking on a few lay teachers and house mistresses in the future. Miss Temple will be joining us as an English teacher when school resumes in February.’

‘And I will be house mistress here in the junior school,’ added Miss Temple.

Helen nodded. ‘Can we go now, please, Sister?’

‘Of course.’

We left. We slipped around the back of the boarding house towards the gymnasium.

‘Don’t you think Miss Temple is pretty?’ I was still a little dazzled by her.

‘I suppose so.’ Helen frowned a little bit. ‘Come on..’

‘Where are we going?’

I followed her along the edge of the sports field to the furthest corner of the grounds. This area wasn’t used for anything and it was overgrown with bushes. Helen pushed her way past the bushes and I followed her into a small open area.

‘Oh.’

There were flowers growing all around me. Yellow and red flowers that were in full bloom because summer was just starting. I could smell them too. There was something familiar about that smell.

‘It must have been a garden once,’ Helen said. ‘When I found this place, there were weeds everywhere. I pulled them out and the flowers grew.’

‘When did you find it?’

‘A couple of months ago. I wanted to surprise you. Miranda is wrong, Jane. This is your present.’

‘My present?’

‘Your Christmas present, silly. We can spend all our holiday here and no-one will disturb us. We can grow even more flowers together.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ I flung my arms around Helen and hugged her. As I did, I remembered where I had smelled the flowers before. My mother. I could barely remember her face, but I did remember the flowers she’d grown. The garden smelled like home and freedom, and memories, and Helen had made it for me.

I hugged my best friend even tighter as I said words I hadn’t said since the day I was taken away from my home.

‘I love you, Helen.’

Chapter 16

Betty

Betty leant on the veranda railing. It was a hot January day. Most people would be inside in the shade, but, even after all this time, Betty still loved the way the heat of the sun warmed her as it touched her skin. And she even secretly loved the way it turned her skin darker – it reminded her that she wasn’t Eliza Mason at all, no matter what everyone else might think.

The girls from school would go to the beach on the weekends and come in on Monday all red and sore, and complaining that they could never get a tan. Betty wasn’t like them. That meant they hated her. Betty had decided not to care. She’d decided that she hated them too.

A car pulled up to the garage. Richard’s new car, a present from his father for his birthday. She’d heard Richard boasting to his mates about the big red muscle car. It was a 1971 Falcon GTHO with racing stripes. He thought it made him powerful. It didn’t. It was the car that was powerful. Richard was nothing.

She slipped back inside before Richard got out of the car. She tried to avoid Richard as much as she could. He had ignored her for years, but just lately he’d noticed her again and she didn’t like the way he looked at her now.

She tied her hair out of her face and went down to the kitchen. The cleaning woman only came twice a week now. Mr Mason had decreed Betty old enough to manage most of the cooking and tidying. He only got someone in to help if he was having his disgusting work people over to the house. Then Betty was confined to the kitchen. She didn’t mind that too much. It was better than sitting at that table with the Masons.

It was time to start making dinner, so she put a pot of water on the stove to boil and started peeling potatoes.

‘What are you doing?’

The tone of Richard’s voice made her freeze.

‘Go away. I’m starting dinner. Your father will be angry at me if it’s late.’

Richard shrugged. ‘He’s not home yet. Went out with clients and won’t be back for ages. Plenty of time for a bit of fun.’ His smirk made Betty’s insides clench. She was sixteen. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘Piss off.’

‘I don’t think so. We’ve fed and clothed you all these years. It’s time you started paying us back. And I know just how you can do that.’

Betty shook her head. ‘No.’

Richard lunged towards her. She staggered backwards, cracking her hip on the corner of the big table. She stumbled. That was enough for him to get to her. He pushed her back onto the table and trapped her there between his arms and his body. She wriggled backwards. He laughed.

One hand grabbed her wrist. The other dug into her thigh. ‘You can pretend you don’t want to, but we both know you do, don’t we?’

His arm pushed down across her chest, and his free hand pulled at her knee, forcing her thighs wide. ‘Come on. I know you give it to the boys at school.’

His hand starting pulling at her skirt. Betty stared up at the ceiling, her panicking mind searching for something… anything.

She twisted her shoulders as hard as she could. It unbalanced him and she sat up, leaning forward, trying desperately to push him away. It wasn’t enough. She just ended up closer against his body. He laughed again. ‘I knew you’d be up for it.’

He held her tight against his body now, while he struggled with his own clothes. ‘I bet you like to suck cock, don’t you?’

A wave of nausea hit her. She leant forward as far as she could. One last effort. The pot for the potatoes was still on the stove. If she could reach that, then she’d have something she could hit him with. She reached and her fingertips brushed something – the handle? She tried to grab. The burning pain seared through her hand. She screamed without thinking. Richard looked behind himself. He pulled her hand into his grip, staring at the red welt that was appearing across her palm. ‘Does that hurt?’

Betty had no fight left. She nodded silently.

He smirked again. ‘Good.’

He tipped her back onto the table. Looking into his eyes, she saw a kind of madness there. Nothing would stop him now. Not her pleas, or her injury. Not even fear of his father finding out. She’d had boys before, but this was something else. They’d wanted her. Richard just wanted to have her, to show her that he could. Betty closed her eyes and pictured the fire. She concentrated on the burning sensation in her hand, and in her mind that grew into flames dancing in front of her, warming her. Carrying her away.

‘What in God’s name…?’

Richard was off her in an instant. ‘Father?’

Betty pushed with her uninjured arm, and pulled her knees up onto the table, dragging her skirt down to cover herself.

‘What in God’s name is going on here?’

Betty stared down at her blistering hand. She didn’t speak.

‘I was… she…’ Richard stumbled and stuttered over the words as he stuffed himself back into his trousers.

‘She what?’ His father’s voice was cool.

‘She started it.’

Betty shook her head.

‘She came on to me. Been coming on to me for months now.’

Mr Mason nodded. ‘And you couldn’t resist the urge?’

Richard bent his head towards the ground. ‘Sorry, Father.’

Betty waited for the consequences. She’d heard Mr Mason shout at his son through the walls sometimes. But instead of anger, Mr Mason just nodded. ‘Young men have needs.’

He stepped forward and slapped his son briskly across the shoulder. Then he looked at Betty. ‘And you fancied this one.’

Richard shrugged. ‘She was up for it.’

Betty burned with rage. ‘I was not. I…’

Mr Mason held up a hand. ‘Quiet. You’ve done enough.’

The older man was staring at her, though not with want, like she’d had from Richard such a short time before. This was something else.

‘My mates all want a go with her. That’s half the reason they all want to come round here.’

Mr Mason nodded. ‘That’s interesting. Very interesting.’ He turned back to his son. ‘I forgot the contracts for the Northam land leases. Could you fetch them? Should be on my desk.’

Richard hurried out of the room.

Betty still sat huddled on the table.

Mr Mason folded his arms. ‘I’m thinking I might get a new cleaning girl in.’

Betty nodded, confused.

‘Maybe it’s time you played more of a part in the business, if you know what I mean? Does that sound good?’

Betty didn’t know what he meant, but it seemed to mean less cleaning, so she nodded.

‘Good. We’ll have to get you some new clothes.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Nicer things so you’re nice for my associates to look at. I’ll give you money to go shopping. Would you like that?’

Now Betty understood. She was to look pretty and make people happy. ‘Yes, Mr Mason.’

Chapter 17

Jane

‘Sue says she did it with her boyfriend on New Year’s Eve. At a party.’

‘I bet she’s lying.’

‘No, she told me it didn’t last long, but they definitely did It.’ The two girls giggled wildly as they carried their bags up the stairs to the dormitories.

I watched them go. I hated the start of the new year. During the summer holidays, Helen and I got to be alone at Our Lady. For ten years now, summer had been my favourite part of the year. We would read and talk, and now we had the added joy of watching our garden flourish. The Christmas services with only the two of us and the nuns, rather than with a chapel full of giggling girls, were beautiful and I was able to feel the presence of the Lord in the calm and the music.

Then school would start, and all that peace was shattered.

This year we were moving into grade twelve. I was almost seventeen, almost a woman, according to the calendar, but nowhere near what the other girls would consider being a woman. I’d barely talked to a man outside of the priests at confession, and that certainly didn’t count. Those giggling girls gossiping about who had and hadn’t done it already lived in a different world.

I let myself out the back door of the boarding house. As a senior boarder, the nuns didn’t seem to mind if I went where I liked around the school grounds after lessons were over. The garden was wilting a bit in the late summer heat, but it was still beautiful. The roses were continuing to bloom, and we had trained a white bougainvillea from the neighbouring garden to climb to our side of the fence. Helen had said that that was a sort of magic – it was like stealing, but nobody lost anything. The more people loved and cared for the plant, the more there was to go around. There were tall sunflowers, their faces raised to the clear blue sky and delicate blue Agapanthus. Helen and I had made a shady bower, with green grass to sit on, and she was there now, resting against the garden wall and reading. Throughout the summer, this little oasis had given me so much joy, but now I found myself looking at the scene with a sense of disquiet. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked as I dropped onto the grass next to her.

‘This is our last year at school. What do we do at the end of the year?’

She put her book down and looked at me. ‘Will you go back to live with the Reeds?’

‘Never.’

She took my hand. ‘You’re still thinking about John, aren’t you?’

I nodded. It had been a long time before I’d even told Helen about that day in the sports shed and about my cousin coming into my room. Even now I couldn’t make sense of what he’d been doing. ‘He probably goes after prettier girls now.’

‘Oh, Jane. You are pretty. Don’t you know that?’

She always said that, and I always wanted to believe her. But when I looked at the other girls, I knew it wasn’t true. I was bony where they had curves. My plain brown hair was flat and fine, not glossy like some of the others. I barely dared to try putting on make-up. I didn’t know how to stop it looking like a painted mask. At best, I hoped to be forgettable.

‘I don’t know anything, Helen. I’ve lived here since I was just a child. We both have.’ I was realising rapidly that in a few short months we’d have to leave this place. We’d have to leave this garden. We’d have to leave the nuns and lay teachers who’d been our guides through life so far. And we’d have to go… where? I tried to explain what I meant.

‘The only time we leave is to go on school trips. We really don’t know what’s out there.’ The idea was overwhelming – there was a whole world waiting to chew us up. ‘Maybe we should stay here and become nuns?’

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