Free Any Other Name by Emma Newman

adjustment. A Charm has been placed upon you, as on all new Iris brides, Catherine, just as it was placed on me.”
    Cathy’s tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her heart, which had been settling into a normal rhythm, started to pound again. “What Charm?”
    “Only an Iris man may touch you now. If a man other than William touches your skin, it will leave a mark on you and burn him.”
    “What?” Cathy sounded stupid in her shock.
    “I was just as surprised as you were. Take a moment,” Mrs Iris said, offering her the cup and saucer again. She set it back down when Cathy just stared at it.
    “What if my brother kissed my cheek?”
    “He must not.”
    “What if… what if the Shopkeeper shook my hand?”
    “He must not, Catherine. You must always attend public functions gloved, and only ever present your hand. The mark, I am told, lasts until your husband chooses to lift it.”
    “This is awful!” Cathy stared at the ring. “Did he know?”
    “William? No, his father will be speaking to him now.”
    But you knew, Cathy thought. She’d only met William’s mother twice, very briefly, and had no idea what she was like. If her own mother was anything to go by Cathy knew it would be best to stay calm and not show any anger. That always closed down the conversation with her mother and set them at odds. Perhaps, if she did things differently right from the start, her mother-in-law could be an ally.
    “I can see it’s a shock but, as my mother-in-law said to me, only a woman who covets the touch of another man would be upset by this.”
    Cathy pressed her lips together, choking on the beginning of a tirade against the patriarchy and how that kind of thinking allowed this barbarism to continue. Could she keep it all in long enough to get through this conversation, let alone the rest of the day? The rest of her life? No, just today, she promised herself, just shut up and get through today and then you can find a way out.
    Her silence was making Mrs Iris uncomfortable. “I suggest you drink your tea. When you’re ready to go to the reception, put on the gloves and I’ll escort you back in.”
    Cathy looked at the silk gloves. The thought of putting them on to go and smile and curtsy after this make her feel sick to the stomach. Holding in the rage and the urge to sob was making her chest ache. Shouldn’t she say something? Wasn’t quiet conformity to this misogynistic farce perpetuating the problem?
    “I didn’t want to marry either,” Mrs Iris said gently. “In fact, I doubt any marriage that has taken place in front of that tree was entered into with a glad heart. It will get easier.”
    “How did you cope?” Cathy asked. “Didn’t you feel angry?”
    Mrs Iris picked up her tea cup and saucer again. “Anger is not becoming in a lady. I knew that pushing against the inevitable would only make it hurt more. Let it go. It’s done, find new friends, find a hobby, bear your children and you will be left in peace.”
    “I’m not like you,” Cathy said, unable to stop her voice cracking. “What if I can’t just grin and bear it?”
    “Then you have to learn, or your life will become insufferable very quickly.”
    Cathy broke down, unable to hold it in any longer. She expected a savage verbal attack, but instead felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.
    “I can see how hard this is for you,” she said, speaking softly, “and I’m not without sympathy. But I know there are plans for my son, and he will need your total support. Don’t make his life more difficult. He’s a kind, loving boy and, if you let him, he’ll be kind to you.”

 
    5
     
    Max leaned heavily on the walking stick, doing his best to ignore the terrible aching in his back as he held his position on the other side of the spy-hole. Petra sat beside him, ear pressed to the wall, making notes. Occasionally she shook her head at Mr Ekstrand’s attempts to be sociable with the Master of Ceremonies in the living room on the other side