The Accidental Wife Read online

  Contents

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Rowan Coleman

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sneak Peek

  Copyright

  Praise for Rowan Coleman:

  ‘Painfully real and utterly heartbreaking, every page will leave you an emotional wreck but, ultimately, this is a wonderfully uplifting novel about mothers and daughters’ Lisa Jewell

  ‘I can’t tell you how much I loved this book. It did make me cry but it also made me laugh. Like Me Before You by Jojo Moyes, I couldn’t put it down. A tender testament to maternal love’ Katie Fforde

  ‘Written with great tenderness, The Memory Book manages to be heartbreakingly sad yet uplifting too. You’ll hold your loved ones that little bit closer after reading this novel. I absolutely loved it!’ Lucy Diamond

  ‘The Memory Book is warm, sad, and life-affirming, with an unforgettable heroine who will make you laugh and cry. It’s a tender book about treasuring the past and living fully in the present; you’ll finish it and immediately go give your loved ones a hug’ Julie Cohen

  ‘Warm, funny and totally heartbreaking, The Memory Book is a wonderful read’ Polly Williams

  ‘. . . just stunning . . . incredibly beautiful . . . the story took me on a journey that was at turns, devastating and then so uplifting. It made my heart soar at the strength of the human spirit and how capable human beings are of true, selfless love. An unforgettable and courageous story . . . This story has the ingredients to capture the world’ Katy Regan

  ‘A heart-breaking story that will stay with you long after you’ve finished the book’ Carole Matthews

  ‘. . . terrific . . . incredibly moving but also witty and warm’ Kate Harrison

  ‘. . . breath-takingly gut-wrenchingly heart-breakingly wonderful. Exquisitely crafted and with huge emotional depth . . . extraordinary’ Veronica Henry

  ‘An absolutely beautiful, stunningly written story - you HAVE to read The Memory Book by Rowan Coleman!’ Miranda Dickinson

  ‘Heartbreakingly good stuff – just be sure to stock up on tissues’ Fabulous Magazine, The Sun on Sunday

  ‘This is a heart-rending story, but it’s also completely absorbing, uplifting, tender, sad and wise’ Sunday Mirror

  About the Book

  Alison James thinks she might be living the wrong life. She loves her husband Marc and their three children but somehow, in the process of building a perfect life for her family, she seems to have lost herself. And sometimes she worries that she’s being punished for how it all started – for the day she ran away with her best friend’s boyfriend.

  Catherine Ashley knows she’s living the wrong life. She adores her two daughters, but she’d always thought that at thirty-one she’d be more than a near-divorcee with a dead-end job. In those dark middle-of-the-night moments that come all too often these days, her mind still flicks back to the love of her life: Marc James. And she still wonders whether Alison stole her life as well as her boyfriend.

  Alison and Catherine have been living separate lives, a hundred miles apart, for fifteen years – since Alison and Marc ran away. But now Alison’s moving back to Farmington, the town in which they both grew up. And they’re about to find out just how different both their lives could still be …

  About the Author

  Rowan Coleman lives with her husband, and five children in a very full house in Hertfordshire. She juggles writing novels with raising her family which includes a very lively set of toddler twins whose main hobby is going in the opposite directions. When she gets the chance, Rowan enjoys sleeping, sitting and loves watching films; she is also attempting to learn how to bake.

  Rowan has written eleven novels, some of which include The Memory Book, The Accidental Mother and the award-winning Dearest Rose, which led her to become an active supporter of Refuge, the charity against domestic abuse. She is donating 100% of royalties from the ebook publication of her novella Woman Walks Into a Bar to the charity.

  Rowan does not have time for ironing.

  www.rowancoleman.co.uk

  @rowancoleman

  Also by Rowan Coleman:

  The Memory Book

  Dearest Rose

  Lessons in Laughing Out Loud

  The Happy Home for Broken Hearts

  The Baby Group

  Woman Walks Into A Bar

  River Deep

  After Ever After

  Growing Up Twice

  The Accidental Mother

  The Accidental Wife

  The Accidental Family

  Writing as Scarlett Bailey:

  Just For Christmas

  Married by Christmas

  Santa Maybe (digital short)

  The Night Before Christmas

  For Erol and Lily, my sunshine

  Acknowledgements

  I don’t think I have ever written a book before that focuses so strongly on female relationships and how crucial they are in a woman’s life, and when I began to write these acknowledgements I realised why. So many women are so important to me and to my writing.

  Thank you so much to Kate Elton for her unswerving faith in me that means so very much, and to both Kate and Georgina Hawtrey-Woore for the always wonderfully creative and intelligent editorial support they provide. Working with them is always a privilege and a pleasure.

  Thank you so much to my agent and good friend Lizzy Kremer, who works tirelessly on my behalf and to whom I have so much to be grateful to.

  Also, thank you to my oldest best friends Jenny Matthews, Rosie Wooley, Sarah Darby, Clare Winter and Cathy Carter. You girls have been a part of my life for so long, I never laugh so much as when I am with you and the continued support you give me is key to everything I write.

  I could not have written this book without the help of my new best friends Margi Harris, Kirsty Seaman and Catherine Ashley who were always there with offers of help, childcare and occasionally wine! Kirsty and Catherine were kind enough to let me use their names in this book and its only fair to point out that neither one of them is anything like their namesakes!

  Thank you to my mum who, I think above everything else, has taught me how to be a good friend.

  And finally, thank you to the token man in these acknowledgements, my husband Erol who is always there for me, always supporting me and whose love keeps me going. And of course all my love to my daughter Lily who is my sunshine and who makes me feel like spring is here, even on the darkest, wettest day.

  Chapter One

  ALISON JAMES FOUND that her feet could not move.

  ‘Goodbye fireplace; goodbye window; goodbye spider’s web; goodbye door knob …’

  As Alison listened to five-year-old Amy’s litany of farewells she thought of her husband in the car, his forefinger drumming against the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for her and Amy to come out and join the re
st of the family to go to their new home, their new life. The removal lorry had left almost half an hour ago and Alison knew that Marc was horrified at the thought of his widescreen TV languishing on the damp front lawn while the movers waited for someone to let them in. What he didn’t know was that for two of the family, at least, and despite all that had happened here, it was hard to say goodbye.

  The car horn sounded, three long bursts that made Amy jump.

  ‘Come on then, sweetheart,’ Alison said, taking her daughter’s hand. ‘It’s time to go to our new home. It will be very exciting, won’t it? A proper adventure.’

  Amy looked up at her mummy. ‘But I haven’t said goodbye stairs; goodbye loo; goodbye airing cupboard; goodbye …’

  ‘How about you just say one big goodbye to the whole house?’ Alison prompted her, even though she would be perfectly happy to wait while Amy bade farewell to every brick and board. She knew exactly how her daughter felt about leaving their London home because she was just as reluctant, particularly considering where they were moving to. Everyone else thought they were starting afresh, beginning a new life and turning a clean page. Only Alison understood that they were travelling back into the past, more specifically, her past.

  But the decision had been made and now it was impossible to turn back.

  ‘Is Farmington nice, Mama?’ Amy asked, closing her fingers tightly around Alison’s.

  Alison felt an echoing clench of anxiety in her gut. ‘Yes, darling, it’s lovely. It’s the place where Mummy grew up, remember? There’s lots of room to play and not so much pollution. And the school will be great. You’ll love it. Just think of all the new friends you’ll make.’

  Alison looked down at Amy’s small, quiet face; she could only guess at how terrifying this move must seem to the five-year-old.

  What her husband didn’t seem to be able to understand was that going home was nearly as terrifying for her.

  ‘Goodbye house,’ Amy said on a heavy sigh. ‘Be happy with your new family.’

  Then finally Alison forced her leaden feet to move and, leading Amy by the hand, she shut the front door on her old life for ever.

  ‘Get a move on, love.’ Marc leaned out of the car window. ‘I’d like to get us all in before dark!’

  Once in the car Alison looked in the rear-view mirror. Fifteen-year-old Dominic was slumped at the very back, his arms crossed, his woollen hat pulled down over his brows so his black hair fanned into his eyes, his beloved electric guitar in its case on the seat next to him. He was plugged into his iPod with his eyes closed, shutting the world out, displaying his disapproval at what was happening with a silent if not peaceful protest. Her middle child, eight-year-old Gemma, was staring happily out of the window, her legs drumming in anticipation of a new adventure, a new world to conquer and hundreds of new friends to make, possibly the only one in the whole family who was truly looking towards the future.

  Only Amy, who had her palms pressed against the car window, kept looking back. Only Amy was still saying her goodbyes even as they turned the corner and their old street was out of sight for good. Only Amy, who brushed away a tear with the heel of a hand and then plugged her mouth with her thumb and clung on to her toy for dear life, seemed aware of exactly what they had left behind.

  Only Amy and Alison, that is.

  ‘Come on Alison, it’s perfect, admit it?’ Marc had pressed her only six weeks earlier, when he’d told her he thought they should put the house on the market and that he’d found them the perfect place to move to.

  Alison had half looked at the details of the new house he had thrust under her nose the minute he’d walked in the door. That was Marc: he was an all-or-nothing kind of man. Things had to be done right away or not at all. He had made a mistake and now he was taking decisive action to fix it – decisive and drastic. The house in the photo was certainly much bigger than their current house, set in some grounds at the end of what looked like a long driveway.

  ‘There’s no way we can afford a house like this near enough to London for you to be able to commute, and if you think that I’m going to be stuck out in the country while you’re in town all week then –’

  ‘That’s not it at all, Al,’ he said. ‘I’ve been thinking, and, well, the dealership in Notting Hill runs itself more or less. It’s established. There’s no challenge for me there any more and I think we all need a change, a proper fresh start.’ Alison waited for the hard sell. Marc took her hand as he sat down next to her. ‘You need a change of scenery after everything that happened at Christmas, not to mention what’s been going on with Dom. That’s twice now he’s been brought home by a policeman, Alison. He’s already been cautioned for riding in a stolen car. What will happen next? Will we find a knife in his school bag or have the next policeman that turns up on our doorstep telling us our son’s been shot for looking at someone the wrong way? You don’t want that life for him, do you, Al? This is the prefect solution, and see where the house is.’

  Alison had stopped looking at her husband the moment he mentioned Christmas. Only Marc could refer in passing to something so painful and humiliating, as if what had happened was merely an inconvenience that a good holiday would sort out. But when she saw the address of the house, all thoughts of Christmas disappeared.

  ‘This house is in Farmington,’ she said slowly, feeling suddenly chilled to the core. ‘We’re not moving to Farmington.’

  ‘Why not Farmington?’ Marc asked her. ‘We’ll be much closer to your parents once they get back from their grand tour. They only live a few miles from Farmington. Besides, you grew up there. It’s the perfect place to bring the kids up. It’s surrounded by countryside, it’s got good schools and low crime rates … and look at what we’d get for our money over there compared to this place. So, why not Farmington?’

  ‘You know why not Farmington,’ Alison said, redirecting her gaze at him. ‘Marc, you’re incredible, you really are.’

  Mark stared at her wide-eyed for a moment or two as she waited for him to catch up.

  ‘What? You mean because of …? Oh, Al, don’t be silly. That’s all in the past now, long gone and forgotten. Nobody cares about that any more, not even your parents!’

  ‘I care!’ Alison told him, fighting to temper her tone because the girls were in the next room and Dominic would be home soon. It wasn’t so much upsetting him that she worried about, it was more how he would judge her if he found out what his father had planned for them. ‘Would you move back to Birmingham, to the place where your foster mother told you she didn’t want you living with her any more and that she was putting you back in care?’

  Marc removed his hand from hers and she felt the chill of its departure.

  ‘I wouldn’t move back to Birmingham because it’s a shit-hole,’ he said, reacting with anger, as he always did if Alison mentioned his childhood. ‘It’s not the same, and you know it. I got dragged up through foster care and children’s homes, kicked about from pillar to post. You had everything you ever wanted: a nice safe life, in a nice safe town, with nice safe parents. Is it so wrong that I want to give that life to my children, and especially to Dom, before he messes up for good?’

  ‘You don’t give him enough credit,’ Alison protested. ‘If you could have seen him in the school show, you would have realised how talented he is. Maybe if you talked to him every now and again –’

  ‘I have talked to him,’ Marc interrupted her impatiently. ‘I talked to him for hours after the car incident. I don’t know … I look at him and I see myself, Al. The boy needs straightening out. I think living in Farmington could be the answer.’

  ‘Look, if you want to move from here then fine, I’m not thrilled to live here any more either. But we don’t have to go to Farmington. That is the last place we should have to go,’ Alison told him bleakly. ‘The night I left there with you I knew I was never going back, I never could go back.’

  ‘Who cares now about what happened back then? It’s an age ago, Alison, it doesn’t m
ean anything now.’

  ‘Not to you?’

  ‘Of course not to me!’ Marc exclaimed. ‘Al, the last couple of months have been hard on you, you’re not thinking straight. If you were you’d see how perfect this is.’

  ‘Even so,’ Alison had looked up wearily at Marc, ‘it doesn’t have to be Farmington. There are a hundred towns like Farmington, two hundred – a thousand, even. Any one of those would give the children the kind of life you want them to have, but not this one, Marc. It doesn’t have to be Farmington. Mum and Dad don’t even live there any more!’

  Marc bowed his head, his hands folded in his lap as they sat side by side on the sofa. ‘When I came to Farmington I was a railway labourer,’ he began the story she already knew so well. ‘Working nights on the lines, sleeping all day in the park, drinking warm beer in the sun, waiting for some girls to walk by, hoping they’d give me a second glace. I was twenty years old and I was already dead, my life was going nowhere. I looked around that town, at those people and those girls, and I knew that it was a world I couldn’t ever belong to. I knew I’d go on drifting from one place to the next until the day I died. I didn’t have anything, Alison, until I met you. I didn’t even have myself.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ Alison tried to interrupt him.

  ‘You turned my life around. And now I have you. God knows, I don’t deserve you but I still have you and I want to keep you. I want to keep the family I love, with one successful business under my belt and another in the pipeline. I want to go back to Farmington, Ali. I want to go back to the place that rejected me back then and I want to own it. Most of all I want to deserve you.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Alison asked him, feeling suddenly inexplicably sad, ‘is that any better a reason to go back than mine is to stay away?’

  ‘We’re going back for you,’ he whispered, moving his lips over hers. ‘Because that’s the place where you and I started. It’s the place where we belong and all of the things you’re worried about are long dead and buried. I promise you when we’re there you and I will be happy again. You’ll be happy and I’ll be different. I’ll have more time to spend with you and the kids. Everything will be different, it will be better.’