Page 86 of Wife After Wife
“OK. Well. That’s all quite surprising, but I wish you luck. Hope it doesn’t come crashing down, for your sake.”
She left.
Why were Nate and Terri worried about her future? Did they honestly think she couldn’t look after herself?
•••
The King Henry VIII was heaving with villagers. The noise level was deafening, as Christmas Eve revelers sang along with Slade’s “Merry Xmas Everybody” blasting from the jukebox. Tinsel was strung across the oak beams, and the delicious cinnamon-spiced aroma of mulled wine filled the pub.
“Let’s have two of those,” Ana shouted to Merry, pointing to a blackboard. On it was a chalk drawing of a glass of steaming red wine and the wordsKing Henry VIII’s Favorite Wassail! Only £2:50 per glass.
Why was this pub named after the tyrant who’d beheaded Anne Boleyn, the locality’s most famous historical figure? That didn’t seem terribly supportive.
“I’ll get them,” called Merry. “See if you can find us a square foot of space.”
Ana saw faces from her childhood—people she’d been at junior school with. She wondered whether to join two girls she remembered who were standing at the bar. It would be preferable to being alone with Merry, who was full of nervous energy, like a coiled spring.
Her sister had arrived home yesterday. Ana had caught today’s four o’clock from Victoria and had spent the train journey (not to mention the past few weeks) wondering what to say to her, rehearsing it in her mind. She’d wondered—would Merry be back to her old self?
As soon as Ana had dumped her case on the hall floor, the answerbecame clear. Merry had appeared and wrapped her in a hug, then burst into tears. Her hair was back to its old shade of honey blond. Or at least, the top half of it was. The rest was grown-out bleached, and the soft curls had gone limp and straggly. She’d lost weight, and there were dark rings beneath her eyes.
“How do you think Merry’s looking?” her mother said, her voice worried, when they’d had a moment alone after dinner. “It’s so sad, what’s happened to her, losing Will.”
“It’ll take time.”
“At least you seem to be doing fine, Ana, considering you were meant to be getting married about now.”
“It was for the best, Mum. Like I said on the phone, the holiday romance didn’t really work in real life.”
“Yes, well. Let that be a lesson to you. Think carefully before you commit yourself again.”
Perhaps now wasn’t the time for an update.
“Why don’t you two go to the pub later? You don’t want to be stuck here with us on Christmas Eve.”
No, she wanted to be with Harry. But he was spending Christmas with Megan and Charles, then driving over to Wales to see his daughter.
Ana elbowed her way to a space near the fireplace and, while she waited for Merry, thought back to the night before. Harry had taken her for dinner at the Ivy, and it was their first proper “date” together. Although aware Harry was well known, she’d been taken aback at the level of interest as people whispered behind their hands, pretending not to gawp. And dining with a person of such influence had been a revelation. Under the attentive eye of the maître d’, waiters had hovered like personal slaves, ready to top up their glasses or brush a crumb off the tablecloth.
The home secretary had stopped by their table, and Harry had exchanged a backslapping bear hug with Kenneth Branagh and an air-kiss with Emma Thompson. This all seemed to be business as usual for Harry.
As the evening progressed, however, she’d forgotten about the others in the restaurant as Harry told her what the past week had meant to him, how she made him feel. Then he’d taken her hand, stroking her palm, sending waves of heat racing through her body... and dropped something into it. She’d looked down to see a little box wrapped in gold paper. “Merry Christmas,” he’d said, the flame between them reflected in his eyes, flickering, playing on those long, dark gold lashes. “Go on, open it.”
The ring sparkled in the candlelight, an enormous ruby set in two circles of diamonds.
“It’s bloody difficult, choosing for a style icon, but—”
“Harry, it’s perfect...”
Ana wrenched her mind back to the present and craned her head toward the bar. Merry was still waiting to be served. Not so long ago, the crowds would have parted like the Red Sea, and some hopeful man would have asked her what she was drinking. But Merry’s flame had gone out, and now she was just another girl fighting to be noticed.
Finally she arrived with the drinks, and they clinked their glasses together. It felt nice to be out of London. Ana felt Harry’s absence as an ache, but the breathing space was probably good for her, and the Merry situation needed sorting.
“Bloody hell, that was a mission,” said Merry. “So, dear sister, let’s skip straight past my train wreck of a life and ask what’s going on with yours. I was sorry to hear you dumped Percy. He seemed nice. Unlike a certainshitI was stupid enough to get involved with.” She spat out the word.
“Pretty busy at work.” Should she say something now? Or would that ruin Christmas for everyone? She didn’t want to be responsible for familial drama.
“How long are you going to stay in Scotland?”
