by Shari Low
Right on cue, the music changed and Val got an evil twinkle in her eye. ‘A wee one I asked the DJ to play,’ she quipped and Aggs spluttered with hilarity.
‘Before He Cheats’ by Carrie Underwood bounced off every wall. Val threw a pointed glance and a knowing smile in Mitchell and Celeste’s direction, and their stony expressions made it clear that they both got the message.
Trying and failing to hide her amusement, Aggs followed Val and Yvie off the dance area and they shuffled over to their drinks, left on a nearby table.
‘I bloody love you two,’ she giggled.
‘Understandable. We’ve got great dance moves.’ Yvie joked.
Val responded with a hug. ‘We love you too, pet. And don’t worry, he’ll be here.’
Aggs shrugged. ‘I’m not so sure. The thing is, his ex-wife texted him before he left today. He agreed to go and see her this afternoon and I haven’t heard from him since.’
She couldn’t miss the glance that went between Val and Yvie.
‘You two would be rubbish in a spy situation!’ Aggs teased, before giving a rueful shrug. ‘It’s fine. Really it is. If it works out with us, then great, because he’s the loveliest guy I’ve met in a long time, and if it doesn’t… well, I’ve been through so much worse. It’s just a blip.’ The words were coming out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince them or herself, even if her fingers were crossed the whole time she was saying it.
Yvie and Val were unceremoniously bumped out of the way as Marge barged in, arms outstretched. ‘Right, ma sweetcheeks, it’s almost ten o’clock and we haven’t been out to two parties in one day since the seventies. We’ve had a lovely time, but I’m getting Myra out of here before she pulls something. Either a muscle, or that bloke with the walking stick,’ she informed them.
‘Oh, Marge, I’m so glad you came,’ Aggs told her truthfully, giving her a grateful squeeze. ‘Come on, I want to say goodbye to Myra too and I’ll see you out.’
It took another fifteen minutes to actually get outside, given that neither Myra nor Marge could walk past anyone without either introducing themselves to strangers, or giving a full rundown of that week’s medical ailments to anyone with whom they had a passing acquaintance.
When they finally got outside, Aggs hugged them tight. ‘You two are good for the soul, do you know that? Thank you so much for today. I’ve loved it.’
‘Och, you deserve it, cookie. You take care of yourself and our Will.’
Really? Was there anyone here who didn’t actually know that she was seeing Will? Had there been an announcement on the news? A viral Twitter feed? Maybe a billboard somewhere?
‘Aye, still can’t believe he picked you instead of me,’ Myra sighed, eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘I think you only swung it because of the cakes. And maybe the thirty year age difference, but cougars are all the rage these days.’ With that and a hoot of amusement, they climbed into Marge’s Reliant Robin and off they went.
Aggs waved until they were out of the street and then stopped, took a breath, looked upwards and smiled.
Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad. Today has been amazing and I’m okay. I really am. I hope you two are dancing up there too.
She meant every word. They weren’t here with her right now, but look at the love that had surrounded her all day. All she needed to make it completely perfect was Will to arrive and they could tell the girls all about tomorrow’s trip to Paris. She was pretty sure now that they’d be thrilled for her.
Just as she was turning to head back inside, she stopped in her tracks as she spotted a car coming slowly down the street. Her spirits soared. Hopefully, that was Will. There was nothing that she wanted more right at that moment than to finish off one of the best nights of her life with somebody special by her side.
26
Mitchell
The fact that Celeste was itching to leave the party was, perversely, making Mitchell want to stay longer. And, yes, he realised that was petty, but having reached a low point of sneaking around a restaurant trying to spy on his wife, a bit of pettiness was far from the bottom of today’s barrel. By the time they’d finally got here it was well after eight, and he had no intention of bailing out after an hour. Besides, he was actually glad to be somewhere that was a welcome break from the clusterfuck at home.
He’d prised Celeste away from her chosen spot next to the exit, and now they were at the serving counter, in the throng of the action. The music was great, the food was sensational – Isla had apparently been secretly slaving away for days, working on curries, lasagnes, pots of chilli and, of course, all of the café’s exquisite cakes were there for dessert.
It was the atmosphere that he was enjoying the most, though, despite one or two obvious digs from Agnetha’s friends. He was man enough to take the message in the Carrie Underwood song on the chin and see the funny side. Her pals were just sticking up for Aggs, and the fact that she was obviously so well liked didn’t surprise him at all. Watching her now, she radiated happiness and, yep, she was looking absolutely gorgeous too. Not Celeste-type gorgeous, with the fillers and the expensive grooming schedule. But the type of natural beauty that radiated out of someone who was happy in her own skin and surrounded by love. The whole room was just one big party of fun, joy and warmth. Even if it was decidedly frosty in their corner right now.
‘Hey, old man,’ Isla chirped, stretching up on to her tiptoes to hug him. On the other side of him, he felt Celeste bristle. Of his two daughters, Isla was definitely the biggest challenge where her stepmother was concerned. Since Skye had come to live with them, she’d had a pleasant, even friendly, relationship with Celeste, but Isla didn’t follow suit. In fact, it was almost as if the older Isla got and the more she grasped Celeste’s role in the trajectory of their lives, the more disdain she had for her. He sometimes wondered if there was a bit of misplaced guilt there too, because when she was a kid, Isla had seen more than she should have, and that’s what had inadvertently pressed the button on the nuclear explosion that had decimated his first marriage.
It was not long after Alex Sanders’ second stroke, and Aggs was spending all her time over at her parents’, taking care of her dad in the evenings, helping her mum to feed him, to bathe him, to get him in and out of bed, while working in the café during the day to sustain their income at the same time. On the evenings that Mitchell was working late, Celeste had offered to help with the girls. Aggs was so grateful for the support that she didn’t even question Celeste’s motives. They fell into a routine. Aggs would work at the café all day, then pick the girls up from school and take them home for dinner and baths. Celeste would then come over and put them to bed, while Aggs went back to stay with her parents, to help her dad if he woke during the night and give her mum the chance to get a solid sleep.
When Mitchell came home from work, usually around 9 p.m., he’d have a glass of wine with Celeste and they’d talk for a while. They’d been seeing each other for a couple of years, but in his house, there was an invisible line that he didn’t go over. Somehow, his mind could deal with having incredible sex with Celeste at her place or in any one of many hotels in the city, but in the home he shared with his family? Absolutely not. He avoided any physical contact at all. But, of course, Celeste had to push it, to prove to herself that she could always have her way. One night, he’d got home a little early, around 8 p.m., and let himself in the front door. In the kitchen, Celeste was pouring a glass of red wine.
‘Kids in bed?’ he’d asked her, and she’d smiled that gorgeous, teasing, fucking irresistible smile of hers.
‘They are,’ she’d murmured, before taking a sip of wine and then walking towards him. When she’d kissed him, the taste of the red wine transferring to his mouth was suddenly the sexiest turn-on. On any other night, he would have stopped her, reminded her where they were, but not that night. He was tired, he was horny, and he wanted her. Without thinking, he’d dropped his jacket, picked her up and before his brain caught up with
the action, she was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table and he was standing between her legs and they were kissing and it was hot and their hands were everywhere and she was biting his tongue and…
‘Daddy, why are you kissing Aunt Celeste?’ It was one of the most devastating moments of his life. His nine year old daughter was standing in the doorway watching them, a frown on her beautiful face. Until the day he died, he would always be grateful that they were still fully clothed. What a fucking fool he’d been though.
‘Isla, get back to bed,’ Celeste had snapped, but his daughter didn’t move.
Instead, she’d stood there, eyes blazing at the woman whom she’d called ‘aunt’ since she could speak. ‘You said you were going to bring me up some water.’
Months later, when they’d moved out of the eye of the storm, he’d wondered if Celeste had deliberately set him up, knowing that Isla would come down for her drink, determined to force his hand. When they’d talked about being together, he’d always stalled her, said the kids were too young, it wasn’t the right time, they couldn’t hurt Aggs like that when she already had so much on her plate. ‘And what about me?’ his mistress would argue. ‘Don’t I matter? I’m going to lose just as much as you, but I’m prepared to do it so we can be together. I love Aggs, but I love you more. Nothing is more important to me than us. Nothing at all. Why don’t you feel the same?’ She’d goad him and he’d delay and then she’d goad him some more, but, to his eternal shame, he’d never once considered giving Celeste up. He couldn’t. She was like a drug, an addiction, and he couldn’t get enough of her.
That night Isla came downstairs, perhaps Celeste orchestrated it, maybe she didn’t. There would never be any way to prove it, but it forced him to act. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his nine year old daughter not to share what she saw with her mother, but at the same time, he couldn’t walk on eggshells until she did.
The following night, he and Celeste were waiting at the same kitchen table for Aggs to come home. She’d been with her parents for thirty-six hours, two day shifts in the café, then a night shift with her dad, and when she came in she was visibly exhausted, her eyes almost disappearing into the dark circles around them.
As soon as she saw their expressions, she’d reacted. ‘What’s happened, are the girls okay?’ she’d asked urgently.
‘They’re fine,’ Mitchell had told her hastily, then watched, feeling like the biggest bastard on earth as she visibly sagged with relief.
‘Oh, thank God. I don’t think I could cope with anything else today. Or this week. Or this year.’ She caught on to the fact that the atmosphere in the room was still sombre. ‘What am I missing?’ she’d asked warily.
‘Sit down, Aggs,’ Mitchell had said, voice breaking, dreading this with every fibre of his being. How could he hurt her like this? But how could he not?
‘No. I don’t need to sit down.’ Her eyes had darted from one to the other. ‘What is it? You’re freaking me out. Has my mum called while I was on my way home? Is it my dad? Has he…’
‘Aggs, we’re seeing each other,’ Mitchell had blurted. Celeste had stared down at the table in front of her, making no eye contact. ‘Celeste and me. We’ve been… we’ve been… together.’
Aggs hadn’t responded for so long that he wasn’t sure she’d actually caught what he’d said. Eventually, she’d spoken. ‘Is this some kind of twisted wind up?’ The hope in her voice almost broke him.
‘Aggs, I’m sorry, but we really are in a relationship. I’m so sorry. I…’ he couldn’t say any more because he was shamed to silence by the visceral pain that made Aggs reel like she’d been punched in the face.
‘You’re… you’re… no. This has to be a joke. Celeste? Celeste, tell me!’
No reply.
Aggs was shaking her head now, hanging on to the worktop for support, gasping for breath as she spoke. ‘No. You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t do that.’
Mitchell couldn’t take it any longer. The clichés had poured out of him. ‘I’m so sorry, Aggs. We didn’t mean to hurt you, it just happened and…’
‘Stop.’ Her whisper was deafening.
He’d expected her to scream, to shout, to call them every name, and they would deserve every single word of it, but she’d shocked him by simply reaching for her keys, then picking her bag up off the worktop beside her.
‘I’ll be back in two hours,’ she’d said, deadly calm. Her gaze went to Mitchell first. ‘You have your stuff packed and be ready to leave.’ Then to Celeste, ‘And you… we were family,’ she’d said, with visible disgust, making the point that it was past tense. ‘I just hope he’s worth it.’
With that, his wife had walked out of the door, head held high.
For months, they didn’t communicate unless it was absolutely essential. Aggs sold the house, moved in with her parents full time, and they’d both helped her to bring up the girls. Over the next couple of years, Mitchell and Aggs had patched over the cracks where the kids were concerned, with Aggs – and Mitchell would forever marvel at her strength and magnanimity – never, as far as he knew, saying anything negative to the twins about Mitchell or Celeste.
At the same time, Celeste was determined that the girls would accept her as a stepmother, so she took them shopping, treated them to manicures, to pedicures, to weekend trips and nights out at the theatre. Isla was a tough nut to crack though. She went along with it all, until she was around fourteen and old enough to choose where to spend her weekends. After that, she refused to go on the stepmother/stepdaughter bonding sessions. Or ‘blatant bribery’ as she so articulately, and accurately, called it.
Mitchell didn’t force the issue. As long as things were civil at family gatherings, and as long as Isla was happy to spend time with him alone every week, he could live with it. Now, neither Isla nor Celeste even bothered to make an effort with each other.
‘How are you doing, sweetheart? You managed to pull it off then?’ Mitchell gestured around the room at the party, which was now in full swing.
‘Yeah, where were you?’ Isla punched him playfully on the arm. ‘You were supposed to be here at seven. Mum’s face was a picture, you should have seen it!’ She rounded off the sentence with a pointed glare at Celeste.
Of course, she knew it would be her stepmother’s fault. Mitchell was a stickler for punctuality, whereas Celeste always preferred to be fashionably late. Unless it involved Aggs, that was. In the case of his ex-wife, Celeste pushed ‘fashionably’ late to a borderline rude ‘way too bloody late’.
‘Sorry, sweetheart, just one of those things. Time got away from us.’ Even as he was saying it, he could hear how lame it sounded.
Isla nudged him, full of mischief. ‘You should have brought the new sports car then – you might have got here quicker.’
Celeste’s eyes narrowed on Isla’s, while Mitchell rewound what she’d said in his head. ‘The new sports car?’ he parroted questioningly.
Isla shrugged, as she directed her answer at Celeste. ‘Yeah, the yellow one. Saw you climbing out of it at the yoga studio the other morning when I was opening up here. I assumed you’d been out for a test drive. Bit early, right enough. Must have been before eight. What day was that? Tuesday?’ Isla clasped her hand to her mouth dramatically, eyes popping as she took in Celeste’s face. ‘Oh no, have I spoiled a surprise? Were you buying it for Dad?’
Mitchell couldn’t even look at his wife. Tuesday morning. He’d been in London preparing a client brief on the Monday. He’d stayed overnight. Sounded like Celeste had had a sleepover too. How stupid to get dropped in the same street as Aggs’ café. But then, Celeste wouldn’t have been able to resist the offer of a lift in a car like that. And she was way too arrogant to think she’d get caught.
Every doubt, every worry, every feeling of mistrust that Mitchell had felt in the last couple of months rose up, took control, and blew all restraint out of the window.
‘A yellow sports car like the one Derek Evans owns by any chance? A Maserati
, if I’m not mistaken?’ he asked Celeste, then watched as the muscles in her neck tightened so much, he could see every throb and sinew.
He should stop now, but he couldn’t. He was on a roll.
‘The same Derek Evans who is a director of a soccer academy just outside Marbella?’
Her face was truly like thunder now, but still she stayed silent.
As always, the angrier he was, the calmer he seemed on the outside. He sounded almost nonchalant as he added, ‘Did you honestly think I wouldn’t check? That’s what happens when you take so long to get ready. Although, no wonder you needed a long bath, as I’m guessing that was also the same Derek Evans that you spent the day with in the Malmaison today.’
That was it – that was the moment that Celeste gave up the pretence. And when Celeste was in the wrong, she attacked and then bolted. He could write the playbook.
‘You what? Had me followed? You’ve been spying on me? You sad fuck. You know what, Mitchell? Sod it. Stay here. Stay with your family. They’ve always been yours, never mine. I’m done, Mitch. Just done with the whole bloody lot of you.’
With that, his wife answered several of the questions he’d been asking himself all day.
Was she having an affair? Yes, she was.
Was their marriage over? Yes, it was.
Was she leaving him? Right now, as she started heading for the door, he’d say that was definitely the case.
No matter what, he wasn’t going to let her go and find a taxi on her own. If they were finally being honest, they may as well go home together, hash the whole bloody lot out and get it over with.
‘Sorry, Dad,’ Isla whispered, and he could see that she was completely stunned over what had just happened. ‘I was just messing with her. I genuinely thought there was an innocent explanation.’
