His First Wife's Secret

by Emma Robinson

Genres: General Fiction; Family Life; Literary Fiction; Women's Fiction

Synopsis

‘Wow!!! Where to even begin?? Mind you, it’s hard enough to write this with blurry eyes through tears!!… It really dragged me deep into the story until I came out the other end with tears streaming down my face… An absolutely page-turning, tear-jerking beautiful story.’ Bookworm86 ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

The tears began to flow. ‘I can’t do this on my own,’ Emily sobbed. ‘I don’t know how.’ When Emily’ s husband dies in a terrible accident, she’s not the only wife he leaves behind. Because, before their whirlwind romance and Emily’s discovery she was pregnant, Pete had been married to Caroline for more than twenty years. A devastating tragedy had torn them apart. But there was a part of Pete that had never fully left his first wife and a secret that would bind them together, forever. Finding herself lonely, heartbroken, and forced to face life and motherhood alone – Emily is surprised that Caroline offers her support. But Emily knows she needs someone she can trust and rely on. Even if it’s the woman her husband loved before her. A tentative friendship develops and their lives become entwined. Their bond grows ever stronger as Caroline steps in to help when Emily’s baby arrives unexpectedly early. But it’s not just Caroline hiding a secret. Both of the women who once loved Pete have things they can never admit, without risking a friendship that might be the only thing keeping them both afloat. When grief begins to take its toll on Emily, she feels sure that Caroline is the only person who can save her and baby Dylan… But should she trust the woman he loved before her – with her life… Or her child’s? An utterly devastating, but ultimately uplifting, emotional women’s fiction novel about friendship, motherhood and loss. Perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult, Susan Lewis and Jojo Moyes. Readers are loving His First Wife’s Secret : ‘Oh, the feels... aaaalllll of the feels!! This book is emotional, heartbreaking and bittersweet friendships all rolled into one. Grab the tissues for this one, you’ll need them and you’re not going to want to stop reading until the very end.’ Goodreads reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Wow. Wow… It has been a long time since I have read a book in one sitting… but I could not put this down! I absolutely loved it from start to finish. As soon I read the prologue I was already reaching for the tissues!’ Goodreads reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ Tugs at the heartstrings and brings a lump to the throat… So much tenderness and emotion… I’ve been unable to put the book down… A wonderfully moving story that has a perfect ending.’ NetGalley reviewer ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘This book was read in less than a day. I reluctantly put it down to go on the school run today, but stood at the school door reading… This is how obsessed I was… Absolutely stunning.’ Chloesreadingroom ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘Absolutely loved it. It felt very real, and threw up a whole heap of emotions… a totally absorbing, emotional rollercoaster of a book that you won't want to put down.’ Maddy’s Book Blog ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘I finished this beautiful and emotional and heartbreaking read in almost one sitting and have had to wait a few days for the book hangover to subside before writing my review… An absolute delight to read… Had me in tears.’ The Fiction Café Book Club ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

‘ I loved this book! It was a heart-breaking, emotional story… I wasn’t even a chapter in when I found I couldn’t put the book down… It is an emotional read, and it does pull on your heartstrings, but at the same time it’s gripping and you find yourself waiting with bated breath to find out what secrets are being held. It was an absolutely wonderful.’ Stardust Book Reviews ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Release date: April 15, 2021

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 350

Sample

Caroline had perfected the art of spending time alone, which included stretching the most everyday activities to fill the acres of time she had to spare. She dangled the teabag in the hot water, watching the liquid darken. It was possible to waste at least five minutes this way. And this was her second cup since she’d got in from work an hour ago.

This particular mug was her favourite. If it’s not one thing, it’s your mother, written in dark blue across the front. Jamie’s idea of a joke. She only washed it by hand these days, scared that the dishwasher might fade the letters.

At least there were biscuits. Chocolate digestives from yesterday’s trip to Tesco. By walking up and down every aisle, she’d managed to make that last over an hour. An hour and a half if she included the trip to the café. She’d bought a gossip magazine to hide behind while she drank a latte, still unable to concentrate for long enough to read a book. It was a waste of time; the magazine was full of celebrities that she didn’t recognise. She watched the wrong kind of TV to know who they were.

Once the tea was ready, she took the unopened packet of biscuits through to the lounge. There wasn’t even any housework to do: the room was immaculate. Even the cushions on the cream sofa – which they’d waited to buy until Jamie was safely out of the sticky fingers and crayons stage – were fully plumped. Tea on a coaster on the low glass coffee table, biscuits open, television switched on. Usually, she’d take three biscuits from the packet and put them on a plate. Having the whole packet within easy reach was dangerous. But it was Friday night: time to go wild. She’d only just flicked onto Netflix and started to scroll through American sitcoms when the doorbell rang. Who could that be?

At the door, her neighbour’s son Robbie smiled at her sheepishly, his breath visible in the cold January evening. ‘Only me. Guess what I need?’

Caroline pretended to consider her answer. ‘Well, it won’t be my classical CD collection or fashion advice, so I’m guessing the spare key?’

He laughed, in the way you do when you’re eighteen and a friend of your parents makes a lame joke. ‘Yeah, I went out without mine this morning and Mum and Dad aren’t back from work yet. I’d wait, but I think they’re going out for dinner. It’s date night apparently.’ The quotation marks in the air and poked-out tongue made it clear that any romance between his parents was a cause for mockery.

It was what he did next that really did it. He scratched the side of his head, just behind his ear. A small movement but it hit her in the stomach like a fist. He looked just like Jamie.

Her face must have given away her shock because Robbie frowned. ‘Are you okay, Caroline?’

She squeezed a smile back onto her face. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just remembered something is on the cooker. Wait a sec, I’ll get your key.’

Robbie’s door key was in a small pot in the hallway cupboard. A pottery bowl which Jamie had made in his Year Eight art class. Creative arts were not his strong point and the memory of him presenting it to her and suggesting she was more than welcome to give it to her worst enemy for Christmas made her smile. She hooked out the key and was handing it to Robbie when Pete pulled up outside. As he unfolded his lanky frame from behind the wheel of his shiny sports car, she glanced at her watch. It was early for him to have left the office.

‘Cheers, Caroline.’ Robbie waved the key at her. ‘I’ll drop it back later.’

‘All right, Robbie?’ Pete covered the length of the gravel path in three strides. It was his long legs that had first attracted her to him in their third year of university. The novelty of a boyfriend who was actually taller than her. He stuck his hand out to shake Robbie’s. ‘Still forgetting your key?’

‘Yeah. Don’t tell my mum. She’s already been on at me about being more responsible when I go off to uni in October. She doesn’t think I’ll cope without her.’

Of course. He was off to Exeter this year. A-level results permitting.

Was Pete thinking the same thing as her as they both watched Robbie hop over the low fence into his own front garden? She poked him in the arm. ‘What are you doing here at this time? Have you been sacked?’

Pete grinned. ‘Very funny. I wasn’t in the office. I had a meeting on the other side of Vauxhall. Anyway, let me in. I’ve got something to show you which might make you smile.’

He was already undoing the top button of his pinstriped shirt when she stood back to let him in. His suit jacket, she knew, would be hung up over the back seat of his flashy car so that it didn’t get creased. The backdraft of his aftershave smelled expensive and too strong to have been applied long ago. Was that for her benefit?

As he passed her, he shook a small sachet of some kind of granules in her direction. She peered at it. ‘What the… What is that…?’

‘It’s Space Dust. I was in a shop today and they had it on the counter. I couldn’t help but think of that time we bought it for Jamie. Do you remember?’

How could she fail to remember? He’d been about four. They hadn’t told him it was popping candy; he’d had no idea what to expect. The look on his face when it had started to explode on his tongue had been absolutely priceless. Even now, it made her laugh. ‘As if I could forget that. My poor baby boy. He looked like something terrible was happening and you couldn’t explain it to him because you were laughing so hard at his face.’

Pete sat in his usual place and ripped open the packet. ‘You can talk. Anyway, as soon as it wore off, he was holding his hands out for another hit.’ He raised an eyebrow at her and held out the packet. ‘How about it?’

She sat on the sofa next to him; they were both creatures of habit. ‘Are you serious? You bought that for us to eat?’

Pete waved the packet. ‘Are you chicken?’

She shook her head at him. ‘That was the same line you used on me twenty years ago when you forced me to go on that awful roller coaster at Alton Towers.’ Still, she held out her hand.

Pete chuckled to himself as he tipped a small pile onto her hand.

She brought her palm to her lips and poured the Space Dust onto her tongue, wincing as she did so. The taste was definitely worse than she remembered. A manufactured strawberry tang with enough additives to pickle an onion.

Pete watched her. ‘That bad, eh?’

It started to pop and fizz on her tongue. ‘Your go.’

Pete straightened out the packet and held his head back as he tipped the entirety of the rest of the contents into his mouth. His eyes widened and he moved his lips to vary the sound of the crackling candy, making the clicks and cracks louder and quieter.

Caroline couldn’t help but laugh at him. He’d always been such a big kid; it was part of his charm. When they’d married nearly twenty-five years ago, he’d been the joker of their group and he hadn’t changed at all. Even once they’d had Jamie, he’d been the one all the kids wanted to play with. Maybe that was why he still looked younger than his forty-eight years: his childlike enthusiasm.

Twenty-five years. A quarter of a century. How could it possibly have been that long ago? If you’d asked her a few years ago if she felt any different from that wide-eyed twenty-two-year-old with long blonde hair, she would have shaken her head. People always said that she looked younger than her age, too, but the last couple of years had changed more than her hairstyle.

Pete crushed the packet in his hand. ‘I’ll stick this in the bin. Then shall I make us a drink to get the taste out of our mouths?’

Despite what her friends thought of him, he was still kind and thoughtful, not just funny. When he arrived, he could lift her mood. ‘Actually, I’ve already got one here. I’d just made it when Robbie knocked.’

There was no need to be in the kitchen with him to know how he was making his drink. He always mixed the instant coffee and the milk together before adding the boiling water, citing some theory about not scalding the granules. Years of marriage limited the number of surprises. Well, almost.

Changes in a marriage happen imperceptibly. You can’t live like you’re on your honeymoon forever, of course. For one, it would be exhausting. But when do you start taking each other for granted? Not noticing if your wife has cut her hair or your husband has stopped giving you a kiss before he leaves for work? How far do you go down that path before you look back and realise that you are closer to being roommates than lovers?

Pete was already drinking his coffee when he walked back in. Spotting her mug, he pointed at the slogan with a grin. ‘I’d forgotten that cup. Do you remember the one he bought for me? “You’re one of my favourite parents.”’ He laughed and it was like watching Jamie. Dark blue eyes. Wide grin. ‘He was such a funny kid.’

They would always have this, though. These shared memories. Stories about Jamie when he was a child and they were exhausted but proud parents. No one else would remember how beautiful he was when he would finally give in to sleep. How funny, dancing to the Teletubbies music in his romper. The first joke he told them about the fairy who hadn’t taken a bath.

This was what she couldn’t give up. What she tried to explain to her friends when they told her that she shouldn’t let him in. That she needed to move on.

Because Pete didn’t live here anymore. He was with Emily now. And Jamie was gone.

The decor of the Priory House toilets was as tired as Emily herself felt. Whereas the offices and corridors were sleek and modern, the walls of the ladies’ toilets – which were shared by all the companies who rented space in the block – looked as if they’d been lucky to see a lick of paint in the last five years. Clearly the company that owned the building were more concerned with impressing prospective clients than they were with the comfort of their existing tenants.

Emily leaned in towards the mirror and checked her teeth. The hard ginger biscuits she’d been nibbling to stave off nausea had a habit of sticking to them. Her puffy face looked back at her. She undid the top button of her blouse. Maybe a bit of cleavage would distract people from the extra weight she was carrying. Then she buttoned it up again.

The door to the bathroom opened and Amy rushed in. ‘Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to me. I’m bursting.’ She slammed the door of the cubicle shut.

Emily laughed. ‘Better now?’

Amy’s voice came through the cubicle door. ‘Much. I couldn’t get the customer off the call. I’ve been jogging from one foot to the other for the last ten minutes.’

Emily knew how that felt. She didn’t pass a toilet without going in these days. Always better to be safe than sorry. She turned to the side and appraised her body. Fourteen weeks in and there was still no bump. Instead, she had just thickened from the boobs down. She felt like an overfilled sausage.

The toilet flushed and Amy joined her at the basins. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. We’re all going for a drink tonight after work. Are you coming?’

Just the thought of the beery smell of the Admiral Nelson made her queasy. ‘I don’t think I can make it tonight.’

Amy flicked water at her. ‘Come on. We miss you. It’s not half as much fun when you’re not there making us laugh. If I have to listen to Katie from finance talk about her wedding video one more time, I am going to hurt her or myself. Do you know she still refers to her friends as “my chief bridesmaid” or “Paul’s best man”? We know you’re married, Katie sweetheart, you don’t need to keep reminding us.’

Emily laughed. She related hard to Amy’s irritation. One of the reasons she’d decided to leave Ipswich and move to London was because all her friends back home seemed to be in a race to get married and pop out babies before they hit thirty-five. She’d been certain that a change of scene and friends who still wanted to go out and have fun would be a good idea. How ironic.

Amy stopped rubbing her hands and looked at Emily via the mirror. ‘Oh, no. Please don’t turn into one of those girls.’

Emily frowned. ‘What girls?’

‘The ones who get married and then never see their mates again.’

‘I am not.’ It wasn’t her husband who was stopping her from wanting to go to the pub. It was hard to suppress a smile just thinking that sentence. Her husband. She had a husband. She was a wife.

It had all happened so quickly that if not for the platinum band on her finger, she’d feel as if she’d made it up. Just her and Pete, three weeks ago, with Pete’s friend Steve and Amy for witnesses. They’d all gone out to lunch afterwards at an insanely expensive restaurant in Chelsea. For a moment, she’d considered asking friends from back home, but that would have meant another level of organisation that she didn’t want. Plus, they would have been confused by the lack of fuss and frills. Wouldn’t have understood how romantic and exciting it had been. At the restaurant, when she hadn’t been able to choose her dessert, Pete had ordered every single one on the menu and asked the waiter to box up the ones she hadn’t eaten. That night, they had taken them to their bedroom and used them as sustenance into the early hours of the morning.

Still, she did feel guilty about flaking out on trips to the pub. Before she and Pete had got together, the group from Priory House had been her whole social life: they were the only people she’d known in London. She and Amy had got quite close after bonding over fishbowls of Aperol Spritz and Emily’s pitch-perfect impression of her bombastic managing director at the news agency. Amy had been a good friend during the ups and downs of the last few years, which was why she felt guilty that she hadn’t yet told her about the baby.

According to the forums she’d found online, there was divided opinion over when you should tell people about your pregnancy. Generally, there seemed to be a consensus that it shouldn’t be announced to the wider world until after the first scan at twelve weeks. As soon as they’d had that first scan and everything was okay, she knew that she should have told Amy. One of the upsides of not having a very noticeable bump was that she’d been able to put it off up until now. But she needed to tell someone. Otherwise, it just wouldn’t feel real. ‘I don’t want to come to the pub because I can’t drink at the moment.’

Amy narrowed her eyes. ‘Is there something wrong? Or are you on one of those Paleo, keto diet things?’

Maybe if she made her laugh, it wouldn’t be so bad? ‘Kind of the opposite of a diet, really.’ She splayed one hand on her stomach and the other on her lower back and did the stereotypical pregnant pose. Raised an eyebrow.

Amy froze. ‘You’re pregnant?’ It was a millisecond wince and then it was gone. ‘Congratulations. That’s amazing news. I didn’t even know you were trying; you kept that quiet.’

Damn. The jokey pose had been a bad call. Emily wasn’t about to stick her other foot in her mouth by telling Amy that she hadn’t been trying for very long, but she must have sensed her hesitation.

‘Oh my God, was it an accident? You lucky cow.’ Her eyes were shining.

Emily could have slapped herself round the head. Now what should she say? Which sounded worse? That she’d got pregnant quickly or that they hadn’t planned a baby at all? ‘Oh, Amy. Don’t cry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that…’

Amy waved her apologies away while rummaging around in her bag to find a packet of tissues. ‘Don’t be silly. I’m made up for you, really, I am. Maybe if I follow you around for a bit, it might be catching.’

Emily opened her arms to wrap her in a hug, but as she leaned forwards, Amy shook her head. ‘Don’t. Or I really will start blubbing. Tell me how you’re feeling.’

That was a trickier question.

She’d done the first test on her own, thinking that there was no point freaking Pete out unless she was definitely pregnant. After seeing the two blue lines, she’d waited another two days before telling him, nervous about what he might say.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, he had jumped up from the sofa and whooped. His utter joy had been infectious. This is going to be so wonderful, Em. A baby. I can’t believe it. This was something they would share: a happy, bright new future for them both. Even after Pete’s unexpected proposal, their whirlwind registry office wedding and the regular scouring of Rightmove for a house within their budget, it still hadn’t felt as if this was real. Once they had a child of their own, though, he would really be hers.

Family was important to them both. Pete had been through so much unhappiness. For so long, the loss of his son Jamie had cast a long, unmentioned shadow over any plans. She understood that, of course, and she loved him for his big heart. But moving into the future with her didn’t mean he had to forget Jamie. She’d lost her mum three years ago and still thought about her every day. If anything, she missed her even more now, with the baby coming.

The marriage proposal had been a genuine surprise. Having been through a divorce, she’d assumed that Pete would be in no rush to walk up the aisle again. But he’d been adamant. The next few weeks – finding a dress, booking the registry office, trying on rings – had passed in a wonderful dream. A week after their frosted January wedding, they’d had the first scan and seen black-and-white proof of their healthy baby. She’d even allowed herself to start looking at pushchairs and cribs. But the last few days, something had changed. It was difficult to explain, but she had this sense that something wasn’t right. Physically, she was fine, but she couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was about to go wrong. That maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.

But how could she say any of that to Amy? ‘I’m really good. We’re very happy. Tell me about you. How are things going with your new role?’

Although they worked in the same building, she and Amy worked for different companies on separate floors. Amy blew her nose then nodded. ‘Yes. It’s good. I’m working long hours to get everything up and running but I’m enjoying it. Stuart isn’t that impressed.’

Emily had only met Amy’s boyfriend Stuart a handful of times but couldn’t understand what her friend saw in him. ‘Oh, really? Missing you at home?’

Amy shrugged. ‘Missing his dinner on the table more like. I think I spoiled him during the gardening leave at the end of my old job. He got used to me making moussaka and lasagne and generally waiting on him hand and foot.’ She smiled, but it wasn’t much of a joke.

Emily had to tread carefully. Any criticism of Stuart put Amy on the defensive. She attempted a jokey tone. ‘Maybe you should sign him up for a cookery course, then he could make dinner for you.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Never gonna happen. I’m lucky to come home to half an Indian takeaway. Anyway, I’ve been trying this new diet to increase my fertility. My acupuncturist told me about it.’

It made Emily’s heart hurt how hard Amy was working to get pregnant. Acupuncture, herbalists, reflexology: she was trying everything. Stuart refused to see a fertility expert and didn’t want Amy to either. He seemed to think that they hadn’t been trying long enough to resort to that. Emily had her suspicions that he didn’t want a baby at all, but she’d learned to bite her tongue. ‘Oh, yes, what’s that?’

‘Oatmeal, beans, veggies. No red meat. No pasta. I’ve got vitamin supplements too. Obviously, I shouldn’t be going to the pub either, but I really need just one glass of wine.’

Emily couldn’t hold back any longer. Here was her beautiful friend, turning herself inside out to have a baby. ‘Have you thought any more about going to see your doctor? There might be something really straightforward that would help.’

Amy avoided Emily’s eyes by looking at her own reflection. ‘We’re going to give it a few more months. See what happens.’

It was so difficult to reconcile her bright, ballsy friend who was so successful at work with the person in front of her who was happy to hand over the reins to her boyfriend about her own body. ‘If that’s what you want.’

She turned back and nodded. ‘It is. Things have been a bit… difficult lately. I don’t want to rock the boat.’

‘What do you mean?’

Amy was very loyal. It was one of the things Emily loved about her. ‘Stuart seems a bit down. He’s struggling to get work.’

Stuart was a freelance graphic artist, and he worked from home – although the few times Emily had been back to their house after work, he seemed to have packed up for the day, playing something on his PC which involved headphones and a lot of swearing. ‘I see.’

She shrugged again. ‘Just a rough patch, I. . .