Back in the studio she wriggled her shoulders, struggling to get comfortable in her chair. She read out several emails from listeners and gave them her best advice while her stomach continued to roll. She cautiously eyed the messages dropping into her inbox.
Are you okay?
What on earth has your husband done?
You solve problems but never share your own.
Ginny bristled at the last comment. She needed to project a strong persona to her listeners and not display any weakness, to show she was a warrior, not one of the wounded.
She walked briskly home, staring straight ahead so she wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye in the street. Did her listeners think Miss Peach was unhinged, or did they believe what she’d said? Adrian could be touchy about any public attention.
A couple of months ago, Ginny had arranged for them both to appear in a feature for a local magazine. Her favorite photo from the “At Home with the Splinters” shoot was a little cheesy but fun, showing her feeding her husband a spoonful of mushroom risotto in their glossy kitchen. There was another photo of them standing arm in arm with Phoebe in the garden.
Adrian had taken part very reluctantly. He worked as the sales director for an upmarket car dealership, The Vehicle Emporium, and hadn’t been happy when the guys in the workshop had blown up photos of his ecstatic expression and plastered them all over the walls. The company owner, Nelson, had given Adrian a dressing-down about projecting the wrong image for the business. Ginny could only pray that Adrian’s teammates didn’t listen to her show while they worked.
She secretly thought the photos had been worth it. Adrian’s eyes were blue like Dutch pottery and his sharp cheekbones still made her belly flutter. The shots proved to Ginny she’d assembled the happy and stable family, marriage and home life she’d always longed for, something her own parents hadn’t managed to give her.
When Ginny arrived home, she still felt jittery and couldn’t wait for Adrian to return, to reassure her that Miss Peach was deluded. She took a moment to look out of her kitchen window and to take in the glorious view. They lived on a small crescent at the edge of the countryside and were surrounded by rolling hills. The long, landscaped garden had a pagoda at the end they’d had built to use for entertaining. She and Adrian loved to invite friends and neighbors over for prosecco and homemade pavlova in the summer.
Her husband had a smooth manner that made others feel relaxed in his company. His throaty laugh sounded like he was about to share a risqué joke. They were useful attributes for charming people and selling luxury cars, but not so much when it came to communication of a more personal nature. Only Ginny and Phoebe could spot the telltale signs of when Adrian was stressed, how his eyelids became pink and how his jaw tensed. If she ever questioned him about any worries he might have, it was like trying to pry open an oyster with a blunt knife.
Ginny made pasta and tiramisu as a cute hint at the surprise holiday location. She put the holiday confirmation printout under her table mat and rearranged the napkins several times while continually glancing at her watch. Adrian was already forty-five minutes late. Usually, it wouldn’t bother her, but Miss Peach’s words waltzed around in her head.
What am I supposed to ask him?she thought.
While she waited, she browsed shopping sites on her phone. Her eyes lit up at a pair of peep-toed heels she didn’t have in that shade of tomato. An electronic stomach-contracting belt had fifty percent off, a real bargain.
Although a voice in Ginny’s head told her she didn’t need any more stuff, she stabbed the buy button anyway. When she heard the front door open, she stuffed the phone into her jacket pocket and rushed toward the hallway. “Hiya.”
“Hi there,” Adrian said.
“Had a good day?”
“Fantastic.” He kissed her haphazardly on her cheek.
Ginny bit her lip, wondering if his voice sounded a little strained. She hovered around to see if he mentioned her show. As the seconds ticked away, relief trickled over her.
Adrian carried his briefcase into his downstairs home office where he kept a selection of toiletries and casual clothes in a small wardrobe.
She leaned against the door frame while he got changed. “I’ve made dinner and then I have something to tell you...” she said playfully.
“Yeah? Great, I’m starving. Something smells delicious.”
“I’ve cooked Italian for us.”
“Wicked,” Adrian said.
Ginny’s eyebrow twitched upward. Since when did he usethatword? When he emerged from his office, she tried not to stare at the indigo jeans that were so tight they made his legs look like chicken drumsticks. Surely, they were too young for a man of his age? When he walked into the dining room, she glanced at the logo on the back pocket and almost coughed at the expensive brand.
Last week she’d found a tube of fake tan in the bathroom and felt like giving him a hug. Just like her, Adrian must be trying to keep up appearances with his younger teammates at work.
Some of Ginny’s friends’ husbands had commissioned sleeve tattoos or bought motorbikes when they hit middle age, so she was getting away pretty lightly. She didn’t want to embarrass Adrian by mentioning anything.
“It’s not fair that Nelson keeps you at work late,” she said as they sat down at the dining table. She poured them each a glass of Chianti.
“It’s fine, the nature of the job.” Adrian checked out the label on the bottle and nodded approvingly. “There’s several new car models on the market at the moment and customers are taking more time making decisions in the current financial climate. Electric cars throw a whole new range of technologies into the mix.”
Ginny stifled a yawn. She sometimes found their dinner table conversation to be a little dull but, from her problem-solving, she knew lots of long-married couples felt that way. “I do think you’ve been working too hard recently, and you’re looking a little tired. Perhaps we should increase your B12 vitamins...”
