The Widows’ Club

‘A quotation, actually,’ Faith said, pushing away her empty plate. Her smile disappeared. ‘Lily’s not the only one with emotional ties that are about to be cut. I told myself I had to do something about the house this year, and I’ve finally made a start.’

‘Are you selling up?’ Tara asked, unable to hide her shock. Faith talked about her house as if it were a shrine to her husband, and Tara couldn’t imagine her letting it go any more than she could imagine Faith letting go of the place Derek occupied in her heart.

‘Looking at things rationally, the house is too big for one person, and you never know, it might be fun living in some stylish city apartment with beautiful views.’ She took a moment to consider the possibility, then shook her head. ‘But no, Woolton is my home. I can’t leave.’

‘So explain. What was the quotation for?’

‘There are rooms full of furniture that have been left to gather dust,’ she said. ‘Assuming the antique dealer I met can improve his offer, and I’ll make sure he does, I can at least empty the rooms I don’t use. That way, if and when I do pluck up the courage to move, it should be less traumatic.’

‘One step at a time,’ agreed Tara.

‘And if Ella happens to notice, I might tell her I’ve donated all her family heirlooms to charity,’ Faith said, referring to her grown-up stepdaughter. ‘I doubt she’d care, but her mother would be apoplectic.’

Tara couldn’t believe some of the stories Faith had told her about Derek’s embittered first wife, Rosemary. Their daughter had grown up believing all the tales her mother had spun about her father, and sadly Ella and Derek had been estranged at the time of his death. Tara felt sorry for her, but as for Rosemary, any woman who continued to use her daughter to eke out revenge on a man long since dead deserved Faith’s spite. ‘You are wicked.’

‘I know,’ Faith said with a glint in her eye that faded as she looked over Tara’s shoulder. ‘Your stray lamb has arrived.’

After greeting April with a hug, Tara guided her towards the booth where Faith had remained seated. There was an awkward moment where April dithered, seemingly unable to decide if she should offer Faith a handshake or a hug, but, to Tara’s relief, Faith stood to embrace the new arrival.

‘Faith isn’t one of life’s huggers, but after three years of group therapy, we’re getting there,’ Tara quipped.

The two friends scowled at each other before Tara retreated to the counter to make April’s coffee. From the corner of her eye, she watched April take her seat opposite Faith.

‘I hear you’re an auditor,’ Faith said, raising her voice above the gurgle of the coffee machine. ‘We were hoping you’d cast an eye over the support group accounts to see if Justine’s been skimming something off the top.’

‘Actually, I’m an internal auditor so I deal more with governance issues, but I could take a look.’ April’s eyes were wide when she turned to Tara as she approached. ‘Is there a problem?’

Tara placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of April and took the seat next to her. ‘No, there isn’t. Justine’s far more likely to add money to our fund than take from it. Faith’s teasing and she really shouldn’t.’

Faith took the reprimand with a polite nod. ‘Sorry, that was mean of me, but I don’t like the way she’s been trying to overthrow Tara. Justine hates that Tara’s looked upon as the group leader while she’s left to do the admin.’

‘Which she does really well,’ Tara added in Justine’s defence.

Tara and Justine had been friends since school and had been there for each other during the most difficult times of their lives. Justine had been a source of great strength at Mike’s funeral, never guessing that she would be the next to wear the widow’s mantle three short months later when her wife died from sepsis.

Together, they had sought out an existing widows’ group, but they had stood out from the start. Tara was in her late twenties, Justine only thirty, and as much as the older women had welcomed them, their experiences of widowhood had been markedly different. There had been no talk of childcare, careers, or the pressure society placed on them to reinvent themselves. If anything, the others envied Tara and Justine’s youth and their potential to start anew.

‘And Justine doesn’t only manage the budget,’ continued Tara. ‘She takes care of all the social media, and puts a lot of time and effort into organising us all. I couldn’t do what she does, but someone could easily replace me.’

‘That’s not going to happen,’ said Faith.

Turning to April, Tara said, ‘I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. The group is a family of sorts and Justine is like a sister to me. There really isn’t a problem between us and if ever there was, I would deal with it.’ Tara knew Faith had good intentions, but she didn’t want anyone taking sides. There were no lines to be drawn, not on her behalf. To Faith she added, ‘So can we please leave her alone?’

‘Noted,’ Faith said as she and Tara locked eyes. The moment passed and they both relaxed as they turned their attention to April.

‘Can I tempt you with some cake?’ Tara asked.

‘I haven’t had much of an appetite lately,’ April replied, ‘but it looks beautiful.’

Ignoring the refusal, Tara cut a slice and left the plate within reach. ‘You can take some home for your mum and dad, if you like.’

‘You’re living with your parents?’ Faith asked. ‘Oh, sorry. I heard what happened to your husband. No wonder you moved out.’

‘I’m not sure I could have slept there again even if I’d tried,’ April agreed with a shudder. ‘And being looked after is probably what I need right now, but to be honest, I didn’t have a choice. Jason and I had been renting our flat, and I couldn’t afford it on my own. I had to rely on family to cover the cost of the funeral, and my first priority is to pay them back before looking for a place of my own. Jason didn’t have life insurance or a pension.’

‘It happens more often than you’d think,’ Faith said. ‘My Derek died in a car crash just over four years ago. He was twelve years older, so you’d think he’d be better prepared, but he’d cashed in his pension as part of the divorce settlement with his first wife. He left me his business, but I don’t know the first thing about imports and exports and most of his contracts were verbal. I was lucky to keep the house when the company folded and its assets were stripped. My parents died when I was a teenager, so there was no one to bail me out.’

Tara looked over the rim of her coffee cup. ‘Enough of the sob story. Tell her about the compensation.’

Faith’s expression was sheepish. ‘OK, so maybe my financial circumstances weren’t as dire as I’m making out. Derek’s accident was caused by a mechanical failure that was supposed to have been fixed. He’d taken his car back to the dealership several times, but my guess is they simply reset the warning light and charged us a small fortune for the privilege. I agreed an out-of-court settlement, but I’m starting to regret it. I could have taken them to the cleaners if I’d been in a better frame of mind, but I’d just lost my husband. Derek’s death was needless, that’s what hurts me most.’

‘That’s awful,’ said April. ‘And what a thing to go through while you were in mourning, although I can understand why you settled. It feels wrong moaning about the money side of things. It shouldn’t be important, should it?’

‘But it’s a reality we can’t ignore,’ Tara replied. ‘Life would be so much simpler if we could deal with the emotional and practical elements of grief separately, but when the worst happens, everything hits you at once. So yes, April, you are allowed to complain about the financial mess you’ve been landed with, to us and the group. And don’t feel guilty about being angry with Jason once in a while.’

April’s laugh was hollow as she pulled the slice of opera cake towards her. She teased a corner of the cake onto her fork and didn’t look up when she said, ‘I’ve been angry with him so much lately.’

Tara’s eyes narrowed. Her instinct had been right – there was more to her story than April had been able to share so far.

‘Do you want to talk about it? Was there something you needed to say at the group meeting but couldn’t?’

Above their heads, there was the roar of an aeroplane climbing to the skies and April finally lifted her gaze.

‘In the months before Jason died … he’d changed. He had been a constant in my life, and suddenly he wasn’t – it was like he was somewhere else, or maybe he just wanted to be. There were times when he wouldn’t look at me and other times when he couldn’t do enough.’

‘But you said at the meeting you thought his change in behaviour could have been linked to his brain haemorrhage,’ Tara said.

April shook her head. ‘It’s what I’ve tried to tell myself, but according to the doctors it would be unlikely. I think Jason was up to something.’

Faith was blunter, as always. ‘Was he having an affair?’

‘It crossed my mind at the time, but not enough for me to accuse him. There was nothing specific, and then shortly before he died everything seemed to right itself. Stupidly, I thought I’d got my old Jason back,’ April said, blinking away tears. ‘And I’m glad I didn’t say anything. He would have died believing I didn’t trust him.’

‘And if he was having an affair, chances are he would have denied it anyway,’ Faith replied.

‘Exactly, but now that he’s not around to challenge, my nagging doubt has become a full-blown obsession. Am I being paranoid? Is this some cruel side effect of grief?’ April asked. She continued to look at Faith: she would pull no punches.

‘We’re blessed with natural instincts for a reason,’ Faith said. ‘Only people with something to hide, or something to hide from, dismiss it as paranoia. Have you checked his messages? His emails?’

‘Yes, and I hated doing it, but I hated myself more when I couldn’t find anything more incriminating than Snapchat on his phone.’

‘Sorry for being a techno-phobe, but why would that mean anything?’ asked Tara.

‘Messages are time-limited. You don’t have to go to the trouble of deleting them and you don’t run the risk of leaving an audit trail behind if something unexpected happens to you,’ April said, mashing her cake with the fork. ‘As far as I was aware, Jason never used it, so why was it on his phone?’

‘And that’s one of the questions you’ve been left with that Jason can’t answer,’ Tara said, recalling April’s lament to the group.

‘It hasn’t stopped me looking,’ April said. ‘I was finally given online access to his bank accounts last month and I’ve been going through his statements line by line. I’m not sure, but I might have found what I was looking for. There were some biggish cash withdrawals before and after Christmas, and I know for a fact Jason hated using cash. I can only presume it was to avoid any record of his purchases.’

Faith leant over the table and took the fork and plate from April before she pebble-dashed them with ganache. ‘Was it enough to buy a hotel room?’

April shrugged, misery etched on her face.

‘I’m sure there are lots of other explanations,’ Tara suggested. She wondered if Jason might have been into drugs, although this theory was only marginally better than the possibility of an affair.

‘Do you have any idea who he might have been seeing?’ asked Faith, having already reached a judgement.

April didn’t answer immediately. ‘Not really, but what Steve said in the group about friends getting involved with other friends’ partners struck a chord. I look at my girlfriends and wonder if one of them is grieving more for Jason than she should. I’m tempted to come right out and ask each and every one of them, but I’m not sure that’s a particular rabbit hole I want to go down.’

‘I’d say that’s a good call,’ Tara said, taking April’s hand and giving it a squeeze. ‘You don’t need to come up with all the answers straight away. Take it one day at a time.’

April glanced down at Tara’s fingers. ‘Is that your wedding ring?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, lifting her right hand to examine the gold band. ‘I swapped it over when I was ready to accept that my future was no longer as Mike’s wife.’

‘Same here,’ Faith said, wriggling the third finger of her right hand.

‘Did you find someone else too?’ April asked.

‘No chance. Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of love, and I’m over the moon for Tara and Iain, but it’s not for me, not any more. I prefer being in control of my own fate.’

‘I wish I could say the same.’

‘Oh, April,’ said Tara gently. ‘It’s early days and you have a lot to process.’

‘I know, and I can’t tell you how good it feels to talk about this at last.’ April paused and chewed her lip. ‘Will the rest of the group understand? Has anyone else gone through something similar?’

‘None of us had perfect marriages,’ Tara replied. ‘As much as I loved Mike, I spent a lot of time resenting him for stealing my dreams. I had every intention of moving to Paris until I found out I was pregnant. I’m not saying I didn’t love the life we made together, but there’s a reason I’ve created a little corner of Paris in Hale Village.’

Tara wasn’t sure if April noticed she had evaded the question, but Faith did.

‘And you don’t have to raise this in the group if you don’t want to. It’s none of their business, and besides …’ Faith reached over to squeeze April’s hand as Tara had done. ‘You have us.’

Tara couldn’t hold back her smile. She knew Faith would like April. ‘And it’s not as if the main group are ever short of things to talk about, so you’ll still have lots in common with them. You’re not alone, April. Not any more.’

RESPONSES

Petersj @Petersjhome

Replying to @thewidowsclub

I hope the police are investigating this so-called support group of yours. These were vulnerable people you were dealing with. The situation should never have been allowed to get out of hand.

Jodie @iamJPriestly

Replying to @Petersjhome @thewidowsclub

You’re out of order blaming the group. It’s been my lifeline and no one could have predicted what happened.

Leanne Thompson @LTReports

Replying to @iamJPriestly

Hi Jodie, I’m a freelance reporter and would love to hear your story. Can we meet?

Jodie @iamJPriestly

Replying to @LTReports

Fuck off Leanne

4

The tap of stiletto heels ricocheted off the walls as Faith Cavendish surveyed the empty room. Behind her, she heard the soft wisp of socked feet and the scratch of pencil on paper.

‘Is that everything we agreed?’ she asked.

‘Looks like it,’ the man said, stuffing a tattered sheet of paper into his pocket. He was middle-aged, but his voice sounded older, with the telltale rasp of a smoker. ‘For a small fee, the lads could take those bags of rubbish too.’

Faith followed his gaze. ‘Those bags of rubbish are my husband’s clothes,’ she said, ‘and I’ll decide what to do with them in my own good time. We agreed a fee and I expect payment in full, no deductions.’

The man gave her a broad grin, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. It was a shame because he might be attractive if he were to take better care of himself, not that Faith was interested. The antique dealer’s only appeal was that he had offered the best price for furniture that had been in the house longer than she had.

‘I authorised the payment not ten minutes ago, Mrs Cavendish. It should be in your account if you’d like to check.’

Faith let him wait as she used her phone to access her account. Her balance looked satisfyingly healthy. ‘Fine, we’re done,’ she said.

As she led the way back out onto the landing, there was an echo to the house that hadn’t been there before. Three of the five bedrooms had been emptied during the course of the day, leaving only her bedroom and the home office untouched. She had convinced herself that she wouldn’t notice the difference, but she did. The house had been plundered.

Faith strummed her fingers on her crossed arms as she waited for the dealer to lace up his battered brogues at the front door. She regretted insisting that he and his workforce remove their shoes before entering the house. She wanted them gone, but this remaining invader showed no sign of leaving when he straightened up.

‘If you change your mind about the other pieces we talked about, let me know. I have a buyer who would snap up that dining table.’

‘I’ll bear it in mind.’

‘Or if there’s anything else I can do,’ he said. His grin suggested there was more than a business deal on offer. ‘I’m sure it’s a difficult time for you, but once you find a new place, give me a call.’

He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Faith had given him a sob story about losing her husband and needing to move out to clear his debts and the fool had swallowed it, hence the generous quote. He thought he’d sized her up; a lonely widow in need of a man to save her. How wrong he was on all counts.

She could tell him that she was more than capable of taking care of herself, that she had spent most of her life being happily independent before Derek swept her off her feet, but Faith didn’t explain herself to anyone. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve already found a place,’ she said. ‘I’m moving to Marbella.’

His grin disappeared. Outmanoeuvred, the would-be Romeo stepped outside, but as he crossed the drive, he took one last cheeky look over his shoulder. ‘I don’t suppose you’d like to send me an invite when you’re settled in Spain?’

Refusing to dignify the comment with a response, Faith was about to shut the door when a woman stepped through the gates the dealer had been closing behind him. Faith’s stepdaughter, Ella, was in her late twenties but had none of the nonchalance of youth. Her back remained stiff as a board as she gave the antique dealer, the van, and then Faith a curious look.

‘You’re moving to Spain?’ she asked.

Reluctantly, Faith opened the door wider and invited Ella inside before the neighbours could hear any more of their conversation. Despite the tall shrubbery and expansive gardens, someone had been snooping: Ella’s arrival on the day a removals van was parked out front was no coincidence.

Derek had warned Faith that his divorce had been acrimonious but his ex-wife’s bitterness was something to behold. Rosemary had been particularly aggrieved that her ex-husband had kept the family home despite her agreeing to a generous divorce settlement and plundering funds that would one day cost Faith her widow’s pension. One or two neighbours had remained loyal to the first Mrs Cavendish, and Faith guessed she had Mr Newton next door to thank for Ella’s arrival. A wronged wife of twenty-odd years was always going to out-trump the usurper widowed after only six.

Faith placed her hands on Ella’s shoulders and air-kissed her on both cheeks. With a reassuring smile, she said, ‘I told him I was leaving the country just to get rid of him.’

Ella’s shoulders remained tense. ‘And who was he?’

‘An antique dealer. I thought it was time to declutter.’

‘You’ve been getting rid of stuff?’

‘I’ve emptied some of the bedrooms, that’s all.’

Ella’s eyes grew wide as her gaze travelled up the sweeping staircase. One of the emptied rooms had been Ella’s bedroom although she hadn’t stayed a single night in the house since the divorce. Derek had let her take everything that was hers and it had remained a rarely used guest room ever since.

‘Sorry, should I have warned you?’

‘I know it’s your furniture and you have a right to do what you want with it,’ Ella replied, ‘but …’

‘You don’t have to tell your mum,’ Faith replied, feeling a swell of sympathy for her stepdaughter, caught in the middle of a battle that was already won as far as Faith was concerned.

‘Can I take a look?’ Ella asked, hanging her coat on the polished oak newel post.

She took the stairs without waiting for a reply and disappeared into the largest of the three emptied rooms. Her old bedroom was bare apart from the bin bags the antique dealer had offered to take away.

‘I can’t decide what to do with those,’ Faith explained when she caught up with Ella. ‘If there’s anything you want, please take it.’

Unable to watch Ella tear open the bags, Faith pulled back a curtain and looked out across the gardens. The detached house was in a prime location in Woolton Village and although it was only six miles from Liverpool city centre, she could see more treetops than rooftops. Glimpsing the dense woodland that marked the boundary of Woolton Golf Course, she felt a pang of sadness as she recalled the raucous dinner parties she had hosted for Derek and his golfing buddies. Her heart suffered another blow when she turned to find Ella scavenging through the remnants of the life that had been wrenched from her.

‘It’s all his rubbish,’ Ella said, straightening up. ‘I don’t want any of it.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Faith replied, clenching her jaw. ‘He cared a lot about you.’

‘Dad cared only for himself. You’re lucky he didn’t live long enough for you to work that out.’

This was Rosemary talking, not Ella, and any argument would be useless. There were times when Faith wished she could wash her hands of the whole family, but since Derek’s death, she and Ella had formed a friendship of sorts and for as long as Faith remained in this house, she was the curator of Derek’s legacy and his daughter was a part of that.

Faith tipped back her head and blinked hard before returning her gaze to Ella. ‘I loved your father,’ she whispered. ‘Can you at least respect my feelings?’

Ella looked down at the sleeve of a dark suit reaching out from the open neck of a bin bag. She prodded it with her shoe. ‘I’m sorry, but I hate to see you pining away for Dad. You deserve better,’ she said, her voice softening. ‘You know, moving to Spain might not be such a bad idea. Isn’t it time for a fresh start?’

Faith considered her response, knowing it would be reported back word for word. Amongst Rosemary’s many grievances was the terms of Derek’s will, which had seen the lion’s share of his estate left to Faith. What had they expected when Ella had effectively divorced her father in sympathy with her mother? The answer was obvious. They were waiting for a nice little handout should Faith sell up and move away. This was why Ella had been sent over. This was always why.

‘If I do move, you’ll be the first to know.’

‘So you are thinking about it? Is that why you’re emptying the rooms?’

Faith winced before she could disguise her feelings. She had expensive taste and in the last four years, money had been slipping through her fingers at an alarming rate. She had tried to cut back, going as far as taking a two-week cruise this year instead of the usual four, but it wasn’t enough, and the proceeds from the sale of furniture was no more than a stopgap. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Ella or anyone else for that matter.

‘Come on, let’s go downstairs. I’ve missed lunch and I’m ravenous,’ Faith said. ‘I saw my friend Tara the other day and she sent me home with the most delicious cake.’

‘I care about you, Faith,’ Ella said, not easily distracted. ‘You’re still young. You need to move on.’

‘Thank you for your concern,’ Faith replied, ‘but your efforts would be better spent helping Rosemary to move on. I’m happy where I am and as far as I’m concerned, the only way I’ll be leaving here is in a box.’

As Faith approached the village hall, she caught a glimpse through the window of Steve and a couple of the others rearranging the chairs for their meeting. The foyer meanwhile was devoid of life, although someone had been busy setting out mugs on the trestle table and there was a tower of pre-packaged muffins sitting next to them. Following the sound of a running tap, she found Justine in the kitchen: undoubtedly the culprit responsible for the supermarket fare.