Stand-in Wife Read online

  “He was a colleague—a doctor—who became a friend. When our shifts coincided we’d lunch together in the staff canteen or later at a little deli a block away from the hospital. At the beginning there was a few of us, then gradually…” Merry began picking at her nails, cut short, unpolished, the nails of someone who never had time for small vanities.

  “I knew I was skirting a line,” she continued, “but I thought Luke understood there was a line—that we were friends who flirted. When he kissed me, I could no longer pretend our lunches were innocent. I felt so guilty, so ashamed. I went home and told Charlie everything.”

  Harry woke up, saw his mother and clamored to get into bed with her. Viv positioned him next to Merry’s good leg. Half-asleep, Harry cuddled against her with his blankie, sucking his thumb and looking the angel Viv had already learned he wasn’t.

  “You named him after Houdini, didn’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. How did Charlie react to the confession?” As if she couldn’t guess.

  “Angry.” Merry swallowed. “And so hurt. He knew those lunches constituted more intimacy for me than crazy monkey sex. He stormed off to Ross’s, and moved into his mother’s house a week later.”

  “You mean that was it?” Harry started to squirm in his mother’s hold and Viv grabbed him off the bed before he could do any damage, distracting him with her half-eaten brioche. “What about when he calmed down?”

  “He refused to discuss salvaging our marriage. You’d think after eight years and two kids I’d earned the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Of course you’d earned it,” Viv asserted. “The way you used to run after that—” Merry caught her eye and she shut up. “You still love him.”

  “That’s why when he started dating Susan I knew I had to move out of Auckland. I don’t want to become a martyr like Mum.” Their parents had recently separated and Mum was currently “finding herself” on an extensive tour of Europe with a couple of girlfriends.

  “Heavens, no. I wouldn’t let you. And you’re not throwing yourself on your sword now,” Viv added decisively, “which is why I’ll keep impersonating you until we can get a transfer. You’ll need to stay in Auckland Hospital at least one night to explain the cast to Charlie anyway. But we could say the break’s simpler, couldn’t we?”

  “You be me?” Merry stared at her. “That’s crazy.”

  “Exactly why it will work. It’s so insane no one will consider it.” When Merry protested, Viv leaned forward. “Think about it, Mere. I haven’t been home in two years. There’s been no opportunity for comparisons. And nobody knows I’m in the country. Ross saw the person he expected to see, even though I was dressed nothing like you. He was puzzled when I couldn’t tell him where Tilly’s camp was but all I had to say was something Merry-ish—you’d mentioned you were worried Tilly’s sleeping bag wouldn’t be warm enough—and we were back on track.”

  “You might be able to fool Ross but you’d never fool Charlie.”

  “Normally, I’d agree with you. But your grieving ex is going to be way too busy burying his mother to pay any attention to me—you. And let’s face it, you’ve already acted so out of character by having a flirtation—because that’s all it was, Mere, and Charlie’s an idiot for thinking otherwise—that you’ve paved the way for any slipups I might make.”

  “What about the funeral? You won’t know any of Linda’s friends and relatives.”

  “Sweetie, you’re the scarlet woman. You’ll be lucky if they say hello.” Her sister winced. “And Linda being such a tyrant has one upside—none of our family will feel compelled to go if you phone and say you don’t want them there.”

  Merry straightened. “Harry!”

  Viv turned to see her nephew break into a trot, crushing her brioche in his fist as he made a break out of the room. She caught up to him in the corridor and he squealed a shrill protest as she scooped him up. “I get exactly how you feel, honey, but Mummy needs us so suck it up.” Holding him away from her body to avoid being smeared with chocolate she returned to Merry’s room, nudging the door closed with her hip before putting the toddler down.

  Harry threw himself on the floor and screamed, ignoring his mother’s soothing calls from the bed. A nurse poked her head in to remind Viv that “this was a hospital,” then did a double take between the twins. In desperation, Viv gave the toddler her cell.

  He beamed at her through crystal tears and held it to his ear. “Dog?”

  “Tell that mutt he better not be anywhere near my shoes,” Viv requested, and turned to her sister. “You can phone work, ask for a week’s bereavement leave. So what do you say?”

  Merry was chewing her lip, a good sign. “Tilly will work it out. She’s highly intelligent.”

  What parent didn’t say that about their kid? “I’m sure I can fool an eight-year-old.” As long as I remember to say mummy not mommy.

  “Tilly’s seven! See how little you know about my life?”

  “That’s why I have you on speed dial… Which reminds me, we have to swap cells.” She tried to ignore Harry gumming hers. “You give me daily instructions and details of who I’ll encounter and if I get stuck I’ll sneak away and phone you.” Viv warmed to her theme. “I even booked a one-way rental so I can drive your car home. And if, by some remote chance, Tilly figures it out I’ll tell her the truth and swear her to secrecy.”

  “You mean that Mummy’s lying to Daddy?” Merry folded her arms. “No, Viv, I’m not dragging my child into this.”

  “It might not come to that, Mere, and look at the alternative. Charlie finding out is not a good thing right now. For him, for you or the kids.” She paraphrased Ross. “What if he decides to lobby for custody? With his inheritance, he’ll have more resources. I’m thinking of the greater good here.”

  “By adding lie on lie?”

  “Did the truth help when you told Charlie about Luke?”

  “No,” Merry admitted reluctantly.

  “Think big,” Viv encouraged. “Whenever I’m stuck it’s because I haven’t been thinking big enough.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to rush you but if I’m getting back to Auckland by ten, you need to make a decision.”

  Her twin’s cell started to buzz on the bedside trolley. Merry gulped as she checked the caller. “It’s Charlie.”

  “We can do this, Mere.”

  Her sister shook her head as she picked up the phone. “I have too much to lose.”

  She’d got that right. “I need to tell you what Ross—”

  “Hello, Charlie?” Merry turned away from Viv’s desperate gestures to catch her attention. “I’m so sorry about Linda…. How’s Tilly taking it?…I don’t deserve your thanks…Can I just say…Okay, I’ll let you finish first.” As she listened, a range of emotions flitted across her sister’s face.

  “Mere,” Viv whispered urgently but her twin ignored her.

  “What did I want to say?” Merry gulped. She blinked and two tears trickled down her cheeks. “Tell Ross to drive safely. I’ll see you soon.” Hanging up, she clasped the cell to her breast and looked at Viv.

  “I’m a bad person,” she said brokenly. “But this is the first time in months he’s spoken to me with any warmth.”

  “So we’re doing this?”

  “We’re doing this.” Merry gazed at her son babbling nonsense on Viv’s phone. “And God help me if we can’t make it work.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  LOOKING IN THE REARVIEW mirror, Ross checked his niece asleep in the backseat. Her mouth was slightly open and the pink faux fur edging Tilly’s hood stirred under her breath. Her dark lashes stood out against her tearstained cheeks as pink as the quilted anorak she’d refused to take off for the car journey. Turning down the car heater he indicated a lane change to the motorway exit and nudged his front-seat passenger.

  “Nearly there, Charlie,” he said in a low voice.

  His brother opened his eyes, his normally ruddy complexion pale with grief. “I’m
awake.” He glanced behind at his daughter, then at the off-ramp approaching through the misty morning rain. The buzz cut he’d adopted when his light brown hair started thinning highlighted his solid jaw and jutting brow, and made him appear older than his twenty-nine years. Today he looked forty.

  “You get any sleep?” Ross asked.

  “No. I’ve been thinking about what needs to be done. Drop Tilly off, go to Mum’s…” His voice wavered and he bought himself a recovery moment by pulling a pen and paper out of his day pack. “Phone people,” he added gruffly, making a note. “Meet with the funeral director, check in at work.” As the owner of a small construction company he generally had three builds on the go at any one time.

  “Shit,” Charlie muttered under his breath. Glancing at his brother, Ross saw him frowning. “I rescheduled some critical jobs to make time for camp and the Master Builders’ conference next weekend.” Charlie was on the committee. “At least two will have to be squeezed in before the funeral. That doesn’t leave much time to organize the service Mum would have wanted.”

  Bells and whistles, knowing Linda.

  “I can help.” Officially Ross was on sick leave for another month. Unofficially he haunted the SAS’s headquarters, rehoning what skills he was able to.

  Without comment, his CO had begun using him, usually as a guest commentator at instructor classes on his particular area of expertise—demolitions.

  Sometimes, like yesterday, he sent Ross home to rest. “More haste, less speed,” he’d reminded him. But rest and Ross were incompatible.

  “I couldn’t ask you,” Charlie asked. Ross had made it clear over recent months that family and friends came second to his rehab goals.

  “You’re my brother.” No matter what I felt about your mother. “And you’re not doing this alone. What’s on your list?”

  Charlie stared blankly at the notepad. The poor bastard was still in shock. “Ordering flowers, choosing hymns and sorting out catering for after the service.” He tried to smile. “Right up your alley.”

  “I’m on it.” Mentally Ross scanned his female acquaintances but none jumped out as a culinary-skilled, flower-arranging churchgoer.

  His brother’s former neighborhood—where they were now dropping Tilly with her mum—was lined with staked saplings that reflected the age of the subdivision. Aspirational living, according to the real estate brochures. All Ross saw were characterless brick bungalows and crippling mortgages, but hey, each to their own. After the separation, Charlie had moved into his mother’s so he could still afford the payments and in turn lessen the disruption for the kids. Ross hoped Meredith appreciated it.

  He pulled into her driveway, and turned off the engine but Charlie made no move to wake Tilly.

  “Give me a minute,” he rasped. “It comes in waves, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Sometimes Ross sat out on his deck in the dark, cocooned by the surrounding bush and let pain off its leash. It didn’t always come back when he called. Seventeen months after the ambush, he found it hard to grasp that his SAS brothers, Lee and Steve, wouldn’t walk through the door, clap him on the shoulder and say, “It was a bad dream, Ice. We’re the Indestructibles, remember?”

  Acceptance was a thousand little daily adjustments—a thousand little deaths. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “Listen, you want to stay with me a couple of nights, rather than at Linda’s?” His place was in Muriwai, a black-sand beach on the coast, a forty-five-minute drive west.

  “It’s easier being in town but…” Charlie looked up hopefully. “You could stay with me?”

  “Well…” Ross would have sworn he’d kept his expression neutral.

  “No, stupid idea. Forget it.”

  “Of course I’ll stay,” he said. “If you need me to.”

  Charlie took a deep breath. “Let’s get drunk tonight.”

  “I’ll add beer to the list after flowers and hymns.” Unfastening his seat belt, Ross got out of the car. “Take your time, I’ll handle the bags.”

  Removing the luggage from the trunk, Ross opened the gate then kicked it closed as Salsa bounded over with a welcome yip. Seemed he and the dog were back on good terms. As he rang the doorbell he noticed Charlie had hunched forward in the car, shoulders shaking.

  Throat tight, Ross turned to the door. Thirty seconds passed. He jabbed the buzzer again and peered through the sidelight. Finally he saw Meredith hurrying down the hall, tying her hair into a ponytail. She seemed flustered. Salsa growled.

  Ross glanced down. “Quit that.”

  Today, she was dressed in her customary jeans and T-shirt, no makeup. After overhearing her conversation yesterday, he no longer believed her harassed-mom act. “Hey,” she said breathlessly, as she opened the door. “I wasn’t expecting you for another half hour.”

  “Not interrupting anything, I hope.”

  “Of course not.” Meredith glanced toward the spare bedroom.

  Ross pushed past and went to the doorway, scanning the room. No doctor scrambling through the window.

  “Don’t scare me like that,” he growled, then registered the clothes sticking out of the suitcase, half-unzipped on the bed. “Going somewhere?”

  “Sorting out summer clothes…” Without bothering to fasten it, she shoved the case under the bed.

  “We’re barely into spring. And it seems an odd thing to be doing the day after Linda’s death.”

  “I don’t have to explain anything to you. Where are the others?”

  “Coming.” Why was she being so furtive? Surely she wasn’t planning a runner with the kids? He’d meant to frighten Meredith into behaving through his throwaway comment on custody, but hell, not this much. Ross told himself to quit being paranoid but every instinct prickled. “Where’s Harry?” he said sharply.

  “In his highchair eating a—”

  Crash!

  They heard a faint “Uh-oh.”

  They both sprinted toward the kitchen, nearly tripping over half a dozen oranges rolling the other way. Harry was leaning over his highchair next to the kitchen counter looking at the upended fruit bowl. He had banana smeared on his chin, a crust of bread in one chubby fist and a carving knife in the other. He greeted their arrival with a two-toothed grin, then the blade glinted as he pointed it at the bread in his hand.

  Meredith gasped. “Give me the knife, Harry.”

  The small chin jutted. “No!” As she stepped closer the baby twisted his body away which brought the knife tip even closer to his tiny thumb.

  Meredith stopped.

  “Look!” Picking up three of the fallen oranges, Ross started juggling them. “Bet you want one of these.” Still juggling, he moved closer. “Go ahead, take one.” Entranced, Harry leaned forward, reaching for them. The knife clattered to the floor and Meredith dived for it. Ross handed his nephew one of the oranges and he sank his teeth into the rind. His face contorted as a shudder went through his small frame.

  With a reproachful look at his uncle, he threw it. “No!”

  Salsa leaped, caught it in midair and ran.

  Ross dropped to eye level with his nephew. “Don’t play with knives.”

  The baby offered him his soggy crust.

  “Apology accepted.” Ross glanced toward Meredith. She’d dumped the knife in the sink and stood with her back to him, shoulders slumped.

  “Accidents happen,” he reassured her. “Even to good mothers.”

  She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. “I wish I could say that made me feel better.” She turned suddenly. “So if you think I’m a good mother why—”

  “Mum!” Tilly ran into the kitchen and wrapped her arms tightly around Meredith’s waist. “Nana Lin’s not really dead, is she?”

  In her pink tracksuit with her feathery brown bangs clipped back in two garish butterflies, the sturdy little girl appeared like any other seven-year-old. However Ross knew that five minutes in her company was enough to make people remember that on both sides of the family she had uncles in the SAS and gran
dmothers who could politely be described as strong-minded.

  From birth she’d ruled the roost; lately Ross had noticed her dictatorship had become less than benevolent. Apart, her parents had become guilt-ridden putty in her Machiavellian hands. Since he’d started pointing this out to her father, Ross was no longer Tilly’s favorite uncle.

  Cheek pressed against her mother’s waist, she glared at him now, her gray eyes—same color as his—two chips of steely determination over a cute button nose and rosebud mouth. “Uncle Ross is making it up.”

  Meredith gathered her daughter close. “I’m afraid it’s true. Nana Lin really is dead.”

  “But I don’t want her to be,” she wailed. Normally that was all it took.

  “I know it’s hard.”

  Tilly pulled away from her mother. “You smell funny.”

  “I…have a new perfume.”

  “And you look different, too,” Tilly accused.

  “I put a color rinse through my hair and had it layered.” Meredith actually seemed scared of her seven-year-old’s disapproval. Ross shook his head.

  “Well, I don’t like it.” The little girl burst into sobs. “I want things to stay the same.”

  His irritation melted. She’d been through a lot lately; no wonder she was acting out.

  “Oh, Tilly,” Meredith took her daughter in her arms and rocked her. Seeing Tilly upset, Harry began to whimper. “It’s okay, darling,” Meredith called, then bent her head to Tilly’s. “Can we be brave while Harry’s in the same room? He’s upset seeing his big sister crying.”

  Tilly sobbed harder.

  Ross released his distressed nephew from his highchair. “Let’s go find Salsa and that orange, hey?” Leaving Meredith to soothe Tilly, he and Harry followed flecks of rind down the hall. Glancing outside, he saw Charlie had stopped in the garden to take a call on his cell.

  They found the dog next to the suitcase under the bed in the spare room, chewing on a strappy leopard print sandal with a lacy black G-string tangled around one paw. His sister-in-law was definitely leading a double life.