The First Wife by Emily Barr Read Free Book Online Page A

Mia. Julia and I sat in the kitchen. I was not sure what to talk about, but I thought if I went back to attempting to act like a normal person, I might at least exert a positive force on Julia’s day. She might be fooled, though a part of me hoped she wouldn’t be, because I could imagine depressed mothers trying to pull the wool over her eyes and make her think they were looking after their babies properly: I hoped she could see through a bit of bravado.
    She took the cup I handed her, a huge mug with a baby’s handprint in paint on the side, and sighed.
    ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Lily, this is bliss. It really is. You make better coffee than they do in the shops, I swear.’ She smiled at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners, her dark hair sticking up around her head as though she had just stumbled out of bed. She sipped her drink and closed her eyes. ‘So you’re settling in?’ she asked, without opening them.
    ‘I’m fine,’ I told her, busying myself with my own drink, not looking at her.
    ‘Were you thinking of doing a course? You found our card at the campus, didn’t you? Were you looking at studying?’
    I nodded. The future was unimaginable. The fact that I had come this far was weird enough.
    ‘Maybe. I haven’t got A levels. I’m not quite sure what I could do,’ I managed to admit.
    She frowned slightly. ‘Now, isn’t that funny? I would have thought you’d have had lots of academic qualifications. All those books you have around you. You’re such a bright girl. If you want us to help you get set up with a course or something, I have a fair idea of how it’s done. Just say the word. You know, Mia’s talking about doing English in the sixth form now, even though she’s never been interested in books before, and I’m sure it’s because of you.’
    ‘Because of me ?’
    ‘Oh yes, she looks up to you enormously. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? There she is, fifteen, seething at the world. There you are, twenty, with your beautiful hair and your lovely clothes and all your books. She has a curfew – you get to arrange your life how you like it.’
    I had to laugh at this. ‘She has a curfew, and I never go out.’
    Julia smiled. ‘It’s the principle of the thing. You know, when we decided to let out the room, I was afraid we’d have a student living with us, coming back at all hours, being sick in the garden, all that. That’ll teach me to stereotype the younger generation.’
    I had no idea what to say to that. After a few awkward seconds, I decided to tell the truth.
    ‘I’ve never been drunk in my life,’ I said. ‘I lived with my grandparents and we had two glasses of sherry on a Sunday. Apart from that I’ve never had alcohol.’
    ‘No! You’ve never had a glass of wine?’
    ‘Never.’ I anticipated her next few questions. ‘Or beer, or champagne, or, I don’t know, vodka or whatever else there is. No. Never. If you look in my food cupboard, you’ll see I’ve got a bottle of sherry in there. It’s the only tipple I know.’
    ‘Well,’ said Julia, ‘we’ll have to remedy that. Will you have dinner with John and me tonight, Lily? I was going to try to make an effort and cook something nice anyway.’
    This threw me. I tried to say the right thing, but it came out very primly. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Only if you let me cook for you next time.’
    ‘You’ve got a deal.’

    Over dinner, Julia asked me about Christmas. I had just forced down half a glass of wine, so I was less guarded than usual. White wine was not the nectar that popular culture seemed to promise. I hated it. However, John had insisted on presenting me with a glass of red as well, upon hearing the shocking news about my inexperience, and that was even worse. In fact, I knew at once that it was beyond me. It was soupy and indigestible. White wine, therefore, looked almost palatable in comparison.
    Julia had cooked a vegetable lasagne. It was not the sort of food that Grandma would have sanctioned