Still staring at her reflection, she rubbed her lips together. That shade of red did nothing for her. What would they say, these old friends of hers if they knew the truth? They thought she worked in public relations; in truth she did, but to be accurate it was private relations, very private. She wasn’t ashamed of what she did for a living, but she wasn’t sure her two friends would view being an escort as a good career move. Even a high-class very expensive escort.
Call girl. Hooker. Prostitute. Sex worker. She lifted a trembling finger to wipe away a smudge of eyeliner. It had been her choice. And now Megan was dragging her back to the place where she’d made that decision.
10
Megan sent text messages to both Beth and Joanne with the postcode of the new boutique hotel that sat less than a mile from the white cliffs of Dover and then waited for Trudy to come back from wherever she’d gone. She thought about Joanne’s reaction. Maybe it was a crazy idea to go back to Capel-le-Ferne but it seemed right to, as it were, return to the scene of the crime. Or non-crime as it really was.
The last time they’d been there, twenty years ago, they’d been students, finished with university, deliriously excited to have graduated, even more thrilled about the futures they’d mapped out for themselves. Or maybe it had been her who’d been so ecstatic, so certain about the future. Law, it was all she’d ever wanted to do. Now they were sophisticated women who’d made their way in the world. She loved her work with the Crown Prosecution Service; Beth seemed happy, if a bit stressed, in her role as detective inspector, and the ever-glamorous Joanne seemed satisfied with her corporate hospitality business. They’d all made it.
Megan rang the hotel whose reservations clerk was effusive and only too happy to accommodate her request for three of their best rooms. ‘I’ll be picking up the tab for all three,’ she told them, thinking it was the least she could do for having lied to them. Beth and Joanne would be understandably angry at her deception; Megan hoped she’d be able to make them understand… and to forgive.
The sound of a door opening made her stand restlessly and watch as Trudy came in, shaking her umbrella and sending droplets of water everywhere. It was an action designed to annoy; the water would stain the glossy walnut floor if it weren’t wiped up immediately. Instead of complaining, Megan went into the kitchen, grabbed a roll of paper towel and returned, tearing reams from it as she walked. Without a comment, she bent and mopped up the drops.
‘I’m sorry,’ Trudy said, putting the umbrella into the stand beside the door. ‘I’m being a bitch. I can’t help it; I’m just so pissed off at you.’
Megan reached out a hand and brushed the hair back from Trudy’s cheek. ‘I’m telling Beth and Joanne on Friday,’ she said quietly. ‘I decided it would be better if we went away for a night and to make it a bit like a pilgrimage of penance, I’ve chosen Capel-le-Ferne.’
Trudy stepped closer and, wrapping an arm around Megan’s shoulders, pulled her close. ‘It’ll be better when it’s done. I don’t know how you can have lived with it all these years.’
Easily, Megan wanted to say but didn’t, putting her arms around Trudy and hugging her tightly in return. She’d do anything for this woman she adored. If Beth and Joanne couldn’t bring themselves to accept her apology, and she lost their friendship in the process, then that’s the way it would have to be. After all, she didn’t have a choice, the truth had to be told to secure her future with Trudy.
Megan thought Trudy would thaw once she’d taken the step to tell her friends, but over the next couple of days she remained a little cool and distant, worse, she continued to sleep in the spare bedroom, saying simply that she needed space. The fear that she had damaged their relationship permanently haunted Megan. Had she made a colossal mistake by bringing up a secret from her past that she should have let lie? Honesty, she thought with a frustrated groan, was vastly overrated. And now, she had no choice but to go ahead and tell her friends the truth. It wasn’t going to be easy. She felt a tight knot in her stomach just thinking about their reaction.
When Friday morning came, half-afraid that either Beth or Joanne would cancel, Megan was pleased and relieved to see texts from both to say they’d see her there. She rang Beth and suggested that they drive down together. ‘We could stop for lunch on the way, what do you think?’
‘Probably not a good idea, Megan. I’ve asked for the afternoon off but you know what it’s like with my job. Safer if I meet you there, in case I get stuck at work with some emergency.’
Disappointed, Megan had to acknowledge that her friend had a point. ‘But you’ll definitely make it, won’t you?’
‘Stop worrying, I said I’ll be there. Why don’t you go via Royal Tunbridge Wells and pick Joanne up?’
Stressed as she was, Megan managed a laugh. ‘You just want to see if she’ll invite me into the house, don’t you.’ It was a constant source of fascination to both women that, although Joanne had lived in Royal Tunbridge Wells for several years, neither had ever been invited down to see the house. Hints that they would call in for a visit were always politely brushed aside.
Beth sniggered. ‘I live in hope.’
‘It would make sense, but I can guess the answer.’ The temptation not to ring, to arrive on Joanne’s doorstep and shout, Surprise! was strong but Megan resisted, said her goodbyes to Beth and pressed another speed dial button. As predicted, Joanne dismissed her offer to pick her up and said she’d prefer to meet there. ‘You sure?’ Megan said, ‘I could do a little detour and pick you up.’
‘No, thanks, I’d prefer to drive,’ Joanne said quickly. ‘I’m planning to go shopping on the way home on Saturday.’
‘Okay, in that case, I’ll see you there.’ Megan hung up and shook her head. She knew Joanne’s address and had looked it up on Google Maps. It was a lovely house, on a delightful street, so it wasn’t as though she were ashamed of it. There seemed to be no logical reason for her reluctance to invite her friends down. After all, Joanne had been in Megan and Trudy’s apartment several times and had stayed in their spare room a couple of nights. And they’d both been in Beth’s tiny house in South Croydon. Maybe it was something they could ask her when they were in Capel-le-Ferne. Megan knew Beth, in particular, hated the mystery of it all. It was strange too, because Joanne was one of the most honest, straightforward people she knew, so why this one oddity? Megan was still mulling over it when Trudy came into the living room.
‘I’m heading off to work,’ she said, wrapping a scarf around her neck. ‘Meeting a new client.’
Megan stood and held out her arms, afraid for a terrifying moment that Trudy would step back, relieved when she moved forward into her embrace.
‘I know you think I’m being unreasonable,’ Trudy said, her breath warming Megan’s cheek. ‘But this has been so hard for me. I thought I knew you so well. When this dreadful lie is out in the open, I think the pain will ease and slowly, everything will heal.’
‘Yes, of course it will,’ Megan said, breathing in her scent. She wished she wasn’t leaving, that there was no need to, that she could stay there forever wrapped in her lover’s arms. But she couldn’t. She dropped a kiss on Trudy’s cheek. ‘Shall I book dinner in Ricardo’s for tomorrow night?’
Pulling away, Trudy checked her watch. ‘I’d better get going. You’ll never get a reservation in Ricardo’s at such short notice. I’ll cook something, it’ll give me something to do while I’m waiting for you to come home.’ Then with a smile, she said, ‘Good luck, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Restless, Megan filled her time doing paperwork and answering emails. There was nothing that couldn’t have waited but she had an hour to kill and wanted to keep busy. Finally, at ten, she switched off her laptop and put it away. In their bedroom, she opened the wardrobe and considered what clothes she should pack. Joanne would, as usual, be incredibly glamorous and expensively dressed. Beth would probably arrive in her workday uniform of dark jeans, shirt, and jacket, all of which would be inexpensive and w
ell-worn and she’d change into something equally cheap for the evening. And despite it, she’d look absolutely gorgeous. Megan smiled. It wasn’t fair but it was the way it was.
Dragging a small overnight case down from the top shelf, she filled it with underwear, swimsuit, gym clothes and a dress for dinner that Trudy said made her look stunning. Her eyes softened at the memory. Love was a wonderful liar. No matter what Megan wore, she knew she would never look that good, although she certainly looked a lot better than she had when she was younger. She’d learned to buy well-cut clothes that accentuated her good features and hid the bad. Now, short skirts showed off her slim legs and tailored jackets added a waist where there wasn’t one. But no matter what she did, she’d still be a small, fairly unattractive woman and she frequently wondered what the slim beautiful Trudy saw in her.
Her bag packed, Megan double-checked what she’d put in, guessing she was taking far too much. She shut it, left it by the front door, and returned to the lounge to pull a blank sheet of paper from her briefcase. Picking up a pen, she chewed the end of it while she considered what to write. There had to be something profound and poetic that would fit the occasion, but if there were, it wasn’t coming to her – she resorted, in the end, to a maudlin cliché she thought would make Trudy smile, scrawling, I love you to the moon and back, across the page in her usual loopy writing and propping it against her pillow.
Megan stood looking at the page for a moment. Telling her friends, the truth was going to be horrendous but, if she had any doubts, she only had to think of how much she loved Trudy to know she had no other choice.
11
The White Cliffs Boutique Hotel was in stark contrast to the beauty of the countryside that surrounded it. A single-storey white building, it was flat-roofed, jagged-edged, and desperately modern, trying too hard to stand out in scenery that was famously stunning.
Megan pulled into the first free parking bay in the car park and gazed at the hotel through her car window. It had looked better in the photographs. Getting out, she stood and admired the grounds which did, at least, live up to their depiction on the hotel’s website. The clever use of a variety of palm trees, both in the ground and in huge pots, hinted at the sea just a mile away and tall grasses added movement, the winter sun highlighting their golden plumes as they swayed in the slight breeze. It was okay, Megan decided, taking out her case and walking the short distance to the entrance. Inside, they’d stuck to a contemporary look with a black and gold colour scheme that was almost too dramatic a contrast to the white exterior of the building. It took a few moments for her head, and her eyes, to adjust and then she smiled. It worked very well.
It was only one o’clock. She was the first of the three to arrive but she’d expected to be. Everything had to be perfect, and arriving early to ensure it was seemed like a good idea. The tall elegant receptionist who checked her in didn’t seem in the slightest bit perturbed when Megan said she wanted to check her friends’ rooms too. ‘If you’ll give me a moment,’ she said pleasantly, ‘I’ll call my colleague to relieve me and take you along.’
Minutes later, she opened the door into the first of the three rooms. ‘They’re adjacent rooms,’ she explained, as she walked across the floor to the window. ‘Identically furnished, with the same view and each has a door onto the communal patio.’
‘Excellent,’ Megan said, staring out and noting the comfortable outdoor seating. Maybe they could sit outside later and have a drink. ‘This is my room?’ she asked, turning to the receptionist, giving a slight smile when she saw the nod. ‘Okay, if I could have a quick look at the other two then?’
They were, as the receptionist had said, identical.
‘That’s fine,’ Megan said as they walked back along the corridor. ‘My friends should be here soon; would you please arrange for a bottle of Bollinger and three glasses to be sent to my room.’
The receptionist assured her that would be done and headed off leaving Megan to return to her room. She was pleased with it. It was both stylish and comfortable. Sitting on the king-sized bed, she bounced a little, pleased to feel how soft it was. She opened her suitcase, hung up her dress, placed the rest of the clothes she’d brought on one of the wardrobe shelves and took her toiletries through to the large en suite.
Unable to settle, she stood at the window and stared out at the garden without really seeing it, restlessly checking her watch every few minutes. She hoped they’d be here soon; her head was spinning with anxiety. She’d planned what to say, gone over the where and the how in her head several times, but she couldn’t anticipate how they’d receive it. Anger. Disbelief. Shock. All of that and more, she guessed.
Twenty years. It was a long time to carry a lie. She hoped Trudy was right and everything would be better when it was out. Megan ran a hand over her sleek bob. Better maybe, for Trudy, who only knew the story of the lie. Megan wasn’t so sure about Joanne and Beth; they’d been there, had witnessed it, had held her while she’d howled her pain. How were they going to feel when she tried to explain that she had been crying for something different?
She headed back to the foyer and had a look around, peering into the restaurant and the bar. A gin and tonic would have been the perfect relaxant, but she was afraid if she started she wouldn’t stop. It would be too easy then to chicken out of what she was going to do. What she had to do. Thinking of honest beautiful Trudy would keep her focused.
Restless and fidgety, Megan stayed in the foyer, sat into a large comfortable armchair and pulled out her mobile. She’d liked to have rung and spoken to Trudy to hear her voice, but Megan didn’t want to hear the slight chill that had lingered despite her words of love. Instead, she sent a text. Arrived safely, hotel is interestingly different, missing you already.
There was a pile of newspapers on the table beside her. Picking one up, she scanned the headlines with little interest, her eyes constantly drawn to the door as more guests arrived. But it wasn’t until nearly three thirty that she saw Joanne’s elegant figure push through the door and glance around. Megan waved and stood as she approached, holding out her arms. Joanne dropped her suitcase and they met in a brief comfortable hug. ‘A belated Happy New Year,’ Megan said, standing back. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘We lead busy lives.’ Joanne looked towards the reception desk. ‘I’ll go and check in while it’s quiet, drop my case in my room, and join you back here, shall I?’
‘Yes, do.’ Megan smiled at her and sat back into the armchair. ‘We may as well wait here for Beth. I have a bottle of Bolly waiting on ice in my room for whenever she arrives.’
‘My favourite, excellent. Hopefully, she won’t get delayed. I’ll be back in a minute.’ Joanne picked up her case and walked with an elegant sway to the reception desk.
Megan, worried about Beth’s no-show, had picked up her mobile to check for messages when Joanne returned almost fifteen minutes later looking elegant and incredibly sexy in black trousers, a cream silk shirt and, despite her height, sky-scrapingly high stilettos. She was the only woman, apart from Trudy, who made Megan’s heart beat a little faster.
Joanne sat in the chair opposite, crossed one long leg over the other and looked at her watch. ‘Beth’s very late.’
‘She definitely said she was coming, but I’m starting to worry. You know what her job’s like. I’ll give her a ring.’ Megan looked at her mobile with a frown. Everything was set, she didn’t want things to fall apart at this stage.
Joanne’s chair faced the window, so she was first to see the familiar figure hurrying across from the car park. ‘You can relax. Here she comes.’
Megan glanced up to see Beth pushing through the door. Megan dropped her mobile into her bag and stood to wave, seeing her friend immediately turn in her direction. A smile of pleasure flitted across Megan’s face. It was going to be fine.
They exchanged hugs. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Beth said. ‘Work was mayhem as usual.’
‘You’re here, that’s the important thing. Now,’
Megan indicated the reception desk, ‘let’s get you checked in.’ Relief washed over her. Everything was going to be okay.
Once she had checked in, they followed Beth to her room to drop off a holdall so tiny that Megan wondered if it contained anything more than a change of underwear. They were all chatting together without saying much as they headed to Megan’s room and the promised drink. The hotel had been efficient and very generous. A small table had been set with the champagne chilling nicely in an ice bucket, three champagne glasses and a small tray holding bowls of mixed olives and a variety of nuts.
‘Very nice,’ Beth said, pulling out one of the chairs and dropping onto it with a tired groan. ‘Just what I needed.’
Neither Joanne nor Megan fell into the trap of asking her if she’d had a tough morning. They knew the answer from old, and neither wanted to listen to a catalogue of the awful abuses she’d had to deal with since they’d seen her last. It wasn’t lack of interest, as such, more self-preservation. Some of the stories Beth had told them over the years were sordid beyond belief.
Picking up the champagne, Megan peeled off the foil, grasped the cork with the towel that had been left draped over it, and twisted the bottle. The cork came out with a satisfying pop. Filling the glasses, she returned the bottle to the ice bucket and, waiting until her friends had picked up their glasses, she raised hers in a toast. ‘To friendship.’
Joanne and Beth chimed to friendship back and they clinked glasses, sipped the champagne and murmured appreciatively.
‘You can’t beat it,’ Joanne said, ‘the best bubbles in the world.’
The Three Women Page 7
