The Other Wife: A sweeping historical romantic drama tinged with obsession and suspense. Juliet Bell

sighed, before rapping forcefully on the door with her knuckles.

      It was opened by a big woman. She had short brown hair and dark eyes. Her dress was grey, with no colours or pattern. Everything about her was so very different to my mum, with her long blonde hair and her pretty clothes and big light skirts that swayed as she walked and ran. The woman peered down at me for a second without smiling. Then she stepped back. ‘You’d better come in.’

      The room was so pretty that, for a minute, I almost forgot to be scared. There were bright swirling patterns on the walls and a deep carpet that made me want to take my shoes off and let my toes curl into the softness. Everything in the room was new and shiny and clean. There were lace curtains around a big window, and I could see the sky. I felt a bit better then. I had been afraid that in this big brick house, I wouldn’t be able to see the sky. There were coloured shiny things on a shelf. I stood on my tiptoes to reach them.

      ‘Jane. Don’t touch that. Come back here!’ The big woman’s voice was loud and screechy. Had I done something wrong?

      She looked me up and down. ‘I am your Aunt … I’m Mrs Reed. You’re going to be staying here with us, Jane.’

      I nodded, but I didn’t say anything.

      Mrs Reed stared at me, apparently expecting something more. She turned to the woman who had brought me here. ‘Is there something wrong with her?’

      ‘I’m sure she’s just nervous,’ the woman said. ‘I’m sure she’s a very bright child, really.’

      ‘We’ll see about that. Jane, take your bags to your room. It’s down that corridor. The last door on the right. You do know right from left, don’t you?’

      I nodded.

      The last door led to a little room, with a bed and some drawers. I put my bags on the bed. It was a pretty room. The bedclothes were pale pink, and felt soft under my fingers.

      ‘That’s my old stuff.’

      I turned around to see two big children standing in the doorway. The girl was a bit older than me and had dark hair and a little button nose. The boy was even older. These must be the cousins I’d been told about.

      ‘Thank you for sharing your things with me.’

      ‘I’m not sharing anything with you,’ the girl said. ‘Mum said you could have my old stuff, but don’t ever touch anything of mine. Ever.’

      ‘Or mine,’ her brother said quietly. ‘We didn’t ask you here. We don’t want you here. We hate you.’

      I wanted to cry. But I didn’t. I wanted Mum to be proud of me for being brave.

      ‘I didn’t want to come here either,’ I said.

      ‘Don’t you talk to me like that!’ His face went pink with anger.

      I took a deep breath. ‘Mum says everybody should share everything. It’s mean if you don’t.’

      He parroted my words back at me in silly sing-song voice. ‘Everybody should share everything.’

      His sister laughed.

      The boy continued. ‘You’re not on that hippy farm anymore. Things are different here. This is a proper family, not your druggie commune. You’ll have to behave yourself now.’

      I didn’t know what he meant, but I was suddenly very, very frightened. ‘But I’m going back there? Soon?’

      ‘Don’t be silly.’ Mrs Reed appeared in the doorway. ‘The police have shut the whole place down. Thank goodness. The things that were going on there. Drugs. Free love. God knows where my sister is by now. And with who. She’s not fit to look after a child.’ Her lips pursed. ‘She probably doesn’t even know who your father is.’

      ‘She wouldn’t go anywhere without me!’ Mum had always been there. Other people had come and gone but Mum had never left me. Never.

      The woman who had come with me in the car was standing behind Mrs Reed, her bag over her shoulder. ‘Jane, we explained this. Your mother isn’t allowed to look after you anymore. The police have closed the commune down. Some people have gone to jail.’

      I shook my head. Nobody had explained anything. ‘But…’

      The woman had already turned away. Mrs Reed followed her along the corridor and a second later I heard the door open and slam shut.

      Mrs Reed marched back into the room.

      I jumped up. I was desperate. Nobody had said anything about Mum going away. ‘Mum wouldn’t leave me. You have to find out what happened to her.’

      ‘Enough.’ Mrs Reed folded her arms. ‘You’re my niece, so I won’t have people saying I turned you away, however glad I might be to be rid of you, but in my house you live by my rules. And the first rule is this – you do not ever mention my slut of a sister again.’

      ‘But she’s going to come and get me…’

      ‘No. Understand this, Jane Eyre. Your mother will never set foot in this house, and you will never see her again.’

       Chapter 2

       York, England. 1966

       Betty

      Betty ran out of Mrs Oakley’s house at a quarter past five like always, but it wasn’t Mummy standing waiting for her. Instead her father bent down to talk to her as she came towards him. ‘Hello, little firefly. I’m picking you up today because Mummy’s had to go away for a little while.’

      Betty frowned. Mummy always picked her up. She said it was easier that way because Daddy had to work and sometimes people got funny when he came out with them. The front door to Mrs Oakley’s neat little house was still open, while the childminder watched her charges go on their way. ‘Mr Earl?’

      He turned towards the voice. ‘Mrs O. What can I do for you?’

      ‘Is Pam not well?’

      ‘No. No. She had to go away for a bit.’ He lowered his voice. ‘For her nerves.’

      ‘Right.’ Mrs Oakley looked away somewhere over Betty’s father’s shoulder, not at his face. ‘Well, I’ll be happy to have the bairn back once her mum’s all better and can drop her round.’

      Betty felt her daddy’s hand rest on the top of her head. His voice was quieter than usual. ‘It’s all right. I’m working on the production line at the moment. Regular shifts, so I can bring her before work.’

      Mrs Oakley glanced from side to side at the neat little houses that butted up against hers, and the other parents who were picking up their children. They chatted to each other, but none of them spoke to Betty’s father. They didn’t even look at him.

      ‘I don’t think so. It’s not really…’ She stepped back into the hallway. ‘Not really right for you in this area.’

      Betty’s father’s voice raised now. ‘But she’s my daughter.’

      ‘Well, yes, but…’ Mrs Oakley peered around the door at Betty. ‘You’d not really know, would you? She takes from her mother.’

      The door swung closed with a definite thud. Betty’s father stood very still for a moment. The net curtain at the window of the house next to Mrs Oakley’s twitched slightly. Daddy took her hand. ‘Come on, Betty girl. We’ll get a fish supper and listen to records. Shall we?’

      Betty nodded. She didn’t like fish, but, when Mummy wasn’t there, Daddy let her pull the crispy batter off with her fingers and just eat that dipped in the bright green mushy peas. She leant against Daddy’s hip while they waited in the chip queue. ‘Will Mummy be coming