Later that evening, when Suzy was putting the kids to bed, he dialled Ellen’s number. It was engaged.
He tried again around ten when Suzy was getting the supper. It was still engaged. She must have left it off the hook.
‘Damn you, Ellen,’ he swore as he banged down the receiver. If she wasn’t careful he would go off and have an affair with another woman. And he’d make sure she knew about it. That would hurt her and it would be good enough for her. It might bring her to her senses. She couldn’t go around treating him as if he was nothing, he thought, aggrieved. She was as bad as Alexandra Johnston.
Alexandra mooched around her apartment, sipping wine and chain-smoking. She was restless and bored. Chris Wallace was right, although she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know it. She was feeling deprived. Since her affair with Will had ended she’d kept herself very busy and too tired to think. But there were times . . . like now . . . when she felt like sex.
She thought of her encounter with Chris. He had fabulous blue eyes, she thought grudgingly. He was a fine thing but he knew it. There’d always been an edge between them. She never let him away with anything. She’d always kept her distance with Chris for some reason. But today had been different. The way he’d look at her had been a turn-on. Loath though she was to admit it, when he’d stood very close to her and stared into her eyes, she’d felt a . . . frisson. Chris knew how to use his sex appeal, she thought crossly. He was dead sexy, that was undeniable. He’d be great in bed. His type always were. She’d seen him operate over the years. Seen women fall at his feet. Well he needn’t try his tricks on her. She was impervious to his charm.
But was he impervious to hers? Alexandra drew on her cigarette. He’d come on to her today. He fancied her. Wouldn’t it be something to have a fling with him and then drop him. That would certainly give Mr Wallace a taste of his own medicine. Suzy was always saying he was having an affair. She was her own worst enemy. She irritated Alexandra beyond measure with her moaning and whingeing and negativity. She had her man. She wasn’t on the shelf. She had so much and she wasn’t satisfied. It was her own fault if Chris strayed, Alexandra thought unsympathetically. Any man would, if he had to listen to that carry-on.
Maybe she would get Chris to fall for her. Life was so boring at the moment. They could have a wild passionate fling, until she found someone else. Someone eligible! Then she’d give him the boot. Suddenly life seemed much more interesting, Alexandra decided as she poured herself another glass of wine and sat down to plan how she’d seduce the great seducer.
Ellen lay in bed wide-eyed. Even though it was gone midnight she couldn’t sleep. She was very aware that the phone was off the hook. She wondered if Chris had tried to phone her. Not knowing was tormenting her.
‘Please, please God, put him out of my head,’ she prayed in desperation. At least Miriam was speaking to her. That was a huge relief. She was going to think positive, she decided. Tomorrow she would go out into her back garden and start clearing it of weeds and brambles. It was a big undertaking. She was going to work on the garden until it was a showpiece. And hopefully she’d be so tired every night, she’d fall into bed exhausted. She wouldn’t have the energy to think about him.
Chris was mad as hell at Ellen. Her phone was constantly off the hook. If she wanted to play dirty so would he. He phoned her at work three days later.
‘If you won’t put your phone back on the hook I’m going to call you at work every single day,’ he threatened.
‘All right, Chris. I’ll talk to you tonight, but I think you’re really mean,’ Ellen murmured down the phone.
‘No, you’re the mean one,’ Chris growled. ‘I’ll talk to you tonight.’
At least he had the house to himself, he thought with relief as he dialled her home number later that night. Suzy was at a make-up party.
‘Hello.’ Ellen sounded very hostile.
‘Ellen, please can we forget this messing about? I want to be with you. I love you,’ Chris pleaded.
‘Chris, it’s over. It can’t go anywhere. You’re married. You’ve children. You’ve got responsibilities to them and I’ve got responsibilities to Stephanie. I should never have let you back into my life. It was the biggest mistake I ever made.’
‘Don’t say that, Ellen. Doesn’t it mean anything to you?’ There was a long silence on the phone. Then he heard her crying.
‘Why are you crying? Please don’t cry.’
‘I’m crying because you’re asking me the questions I once asked you. It’s so ironic, Chris. I never believed you loved me.’
‘I do, I do,’ he said urgently. ‘Let me come and visit tomorrow. Let me show you how much I love you.’
‘If you love me, Chris, you’ll never get in touch with me again. I have to start afresh. I can’t go on like this. Goodbye, love. Take care.’ He heard the click as she hung up.
Chris was distraught. ‘Don’t do this to me, Ellen,’ he muttered, staring at the receiver. ‘Don’t leave me.’ He dialled the number again.
‘Chris, for once in your life, think of someone else. Stop being so bloody selfish,’ Ellen raged.
‘I need you,’ he said desperately. Ellen hung up.
‘Fuck you, Ellen.’ He slammed the receiver into its cradle. If that was the way she wanted it, that was the way she could have it. He wouldn’t go crawling. There were plenty of women who’d give their eye-teeth to have an affair with him. Let there be no mistake about that.
He was a selfish bastard, Ellen thought in disgust. He was blackmailing her, emotionally. That had been a low-down rotten thing to do, phoning her at work and threatening to phone every day until she put the phone back on the hook. That was typical of Chris. To act like a child if he couldn’t get his own way. She was damned if she was going to feel sorry for him any more, Ellen thought indignantly as she went back out to the garden and started pulling weeds with a vengeance.
He was the meanest, pull, most selfish, pull, most childish, pull, immature man she had ever encountered. The pile of weeds rose in tandem with her indignation. She thought of every negative thing she could think of about Chris. She thought of every horrible thing he’d ever done to her. The ways he had treated her like dirt. Her cheeks flamed when she remembered their first encounter at Vincent and Emma’s wedding. Of how she’d sat waiting by the phone for him to call her and he hadn’t. If they hadn’t met at the house-warming party she might never have seen him again. It was a sorry day she did meet him, she thought furiously.
Her heart twisted as she remembered his reaction to her pregnancy. He’d have let her have an abortion if he’d known about it earlier. And then that dreadful day when Sheila and Mick had confronted him and he’d told them she wasn’t a virgin.
‘Bastard! bastard!’ she muttered as she tugged at a particularly stubborn weed. All the times he’d hung up when she’d phoned him. He hadn’t needed her then, had he? He only needed her when it suited him. He needed her now because she had dumped him. His pride was hurt, his ego was dented.
Maybe he did love her. He seemed very insistent that he did. His marriage to Suzy was a disaster, that was clear. But it was much, much too late for him to discover that he’d made a mistake. There was no future in their relationship. Ellen wasn’t going to risk an almighty scandal by living with a married man. If she hadn’t got Stephanie, she might think differently. But then, she thought as she wiped the sweat off her forehead, maybe not. Chris would never make her happy. She couldn’t trust him. Trust was everything.
She worked like a Trojan in the garden, telling herself over and over that he was a shit and he wasn’t good for her. She made positive plans in her head for the future. A future without him. Her arms and shoulders ached but that night when she went to bed she slept like a log.
C,
Let’s have dinner . . . My place.
A
Chris stared at the handwritten note in elegant script that had arrived in the post for him that morning. The cream embossed e
nvelope had personal written on it, so his secretary hadn’t opened it.
Alexandra wanted to have dinner with him in her place. Talk about being forward. He knew she meant a hell of a lot more than dinner. He couldn’t believe that she’d made the first move. She couldn’t even let him take the initiative, he thought in amusement. She was something else. It was obvious, though, that he hadn’t imagined the spark that had been there in the restaurant.
He thought of Ellen. Bitterness surged through him. Let her play hard to get, he wasn’t going to hang around. He lifted the phone and said to his secretary, ‘Get Alexandra Johnston of Stuart and Stuart’s PR for me, please.’
‘I got your letter, Miss Johnston.’
‘And . . . ?’ purred Alexandra.
‘Let’s have . . . dinner. When suits you?’
‘Tonight. Seven-thirty.’
‘I can’t tonight. Suzy’s parents are coming to dinner.’
‘Sorry . . . It’s the only night I’m free.’ Alexandra hung up. If he wanted to have an affair that badly . . . he’d be there.
She left work early and drove home to her apartment in Ballsbridge. She sliced smoked salmon and made up a salad with plenty of olives and prepared a dressing. She sliced brown bread in readiness, put everything in the fridge, set the table with her best crystal and her scented candles. Then she headed for the bathroom for a long lingering soak. She bathed and oiled her skin in scented creams and washed her hair. She’d had her legs waxed the previous week. Her skin was soft and silky. She shivered thinking of Chris making love to her. It would be a night to remember. She was going to be the best lover he ever had, she thought as she slipped into a satin dressing-gown.
He arrived at eight with champagne.
‘Dinner’s informal I see,’ he remarked as he lightly ran his finger over the satin of her dressing-gown.
‘Very,’ Alexandra said huskily as she opened her gown and let it slip from around her shoulders. ‘Let’s have starters . . .’
Chris’s eyes widened in appreciation.
‘I like informal dinners,’ he murmured, bending to kiss the creamy roundness of her breast.
‘So do I.’ Alexandra took his hand and led him into her bedroom. They kissed. He was a good kisser, she thought with pleasure as she started to undress him. When he was naked, she brought him to the bed.
‘Lie down,’ she ordered. She knelt over him and took the soft satin belt from her gown. She took one of his wrists and tied it to the brass bedstead.
‘What’s this?’ Chris looked astounded. Then she tied the other one.
‘This is going to be the night of your life,’ Alexandra murmured as she slid out of her gown and leaned down and gave him a long deep wet French kiss.
Suzy was furious with Chris. He’d raced in, rushed upstairs, pulled off his clothes and got into the shower. Then he’d calmly informed her that something had come up at work. The auditors had located a tax problem. He was going to have to spend the evening with his accountant sorting it out. He’d be very late, he told her. He was sorry about missing dinner with her parents. Her protests had been in vain. He was in and out in the space of forty-five minutes. There were times she could kill him, she raged as she stirred the hollandaise sauce that had gone lumpy on her. He was seeing someone. He was seeing that woman in Glenree. She knew it.
Her parents arrived. She made Chris’s excuses and served up dinner. She was like a cat on a hot tin roof. She thought they’d never go home. They finally left around ten, perplexed by her fidgety humour. Suzy phoned her babysitter.
‘I know it’s short notice and it’s late. Could you possibly come over for an hour? I need to do an errand.’
‘Sure, no problem, Mrs Wallace,’ Vivienne said cheerfully.
‘You’re a treasure,’ Suzy said gratefully.
Twenty minutes later she was on her way to Glenree. She was going to confront that bastard in his mistress’s house. Her father owned a butcher’s shop, on Main Street and Ellen Munroe lived over it. Chris’s new red Peugeot wouldn’t be hard to find parked outside.
She drove as fast as she dared, her heart thudding with anticipation as she left the lights of the suburbs and headed into the inky blackness of the country roads. By the time she got to Glenree she was almost sick with apprehension. She drove slowly down Main Street until she saw the butcher’s shop. She pulled in a few doors up from it and looked around for Chris’s car. It wasn’t to be seen. Maybe he had it hidden down a back lane, she thought in despair as she gazed up at the lamplit windows. Suddenly her heart froze. The door beside the shop was opening. She could hear the sound of laughter. A small petite woman stepped out. Followed by Ellen Munroe. Suzy recognized her from the funeral.
‘Goodnight, Denise, thanks for the help, see you tomorrow,’ Suzy heard her say.
‘You’re welcome. See ya,’ the woman called back. Ellen stepped back inside her hall and closed the door. Suzy stared at it in amazement. Chris wasn’t there. She’d been so sure. But if he wasn’t with Ellen where was he . . . and with whom?
Chris devoured the salmon and brown bread. He was famished. Alexandra was wild. Insatiable. He was exhausted. But it had been some night of passion. And he’d shown her a thing or two. She was very experienced. Far more so than any other lover he’d ever had. The sex was new, exciting. But he’d missed cuddling up afterwards the way he used to with Ellen. Alexandra was not the sort of woman you cuddled up to, he thought wryly as he watched her languorously sipping champagne. Still, it was good to be appreciated. He’d make the most of this little bonus until Ellen had cooled down and was ready to come running back to him.
Alexandra closed the door on her new lover and switched off the lights in the sitting-room. She was tired. Pleasantly so. It had been a deliciously satisfying evening. Chris was a very skilled lover. He hadn’t disappointed her. And she certainly hadn’t disappointed him, she thought smugly, remembering the expression on his face when she’d tied him up. That had driven him crazy. Alexandra smiled to herself. She had a few more tricks like that up her sleeve. She was looking forward to using them.
Suzy lay tense as a rattlesnake as she heard Chris come into the bedroom. It was gone three a.m. Could he have been out that late with his accountant?
He got into bed beside her.
‘Did you get everything fixed up?’ she asked tightly.
‘Yeah, it was a long session. Go to sleep, love, I’m whacked.’
I bet you are, Suzy thought bitterly as she lay, racked by torment, as her husband fell instantly asleep beside her.
She wanted to rake her long polished nails down the side of his face until she drew blood. He was having an affair. She knew it. He couldn’t look her in the eyes these days. Suzy bit her lip in the dark. Who the hell was the other woman? She’d get to the bottom of it. By God she would and when she did, there’d be hell to pay.
She lay unable to sleep, her thoughts racing. She’d always known this would happen. Chris was incapable of fidelity. She’d known it when she married him. It was her own fault. She’d made her bed and now she’d bloody well have to lie on it. Well he wasn’t going to get away with it. If she was miserable, he was going to be twice as damn miserable if she ever found out what bitch he was having a fling with.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma dragged herself out of bed. It was a damp muggy day. She felt hot and bothered. It was the pits being seven months pregnant in the summer. The last few months had really dragged. The baby kicked lustily in her stomach. Her big, fat, round stomach, with the silver stretch marks. She hated it. She hated herself. She hated being pregnant.
Julie Ann raced into the bedroom, ponytail flying. ‘Mummy, are we going to Nannie Pamela’s soon?’
‘Yes, as soon as I get dressed,’ Emma said irritably. Julie Ann was on her summer holidays and she got bored very easily. Emma constantly had to think up treats for her.
She stared out the window. The clouds were thick and oppressive. It was humid. There wasn’t a breeze to
stir the somnolent leaves on the branches of the trees.
‘Mummy, you look different. Your tummy’s sticking out,’ Julie Ann announced.
Oh Lord! thought Emma. They hadn’t told Julie Ann about the baby. She’d made Vincent put it off but she was seven months now, maybe it was as good a time as any. Julie Ann hadn’t seemed to notice Emma’s weight gain. But the flimsy cotton nightdress she wore didn’t hide a lot.
‘Julie Ann, I’ve a surprise for you.’ Emma sat down heavily on the bed and put her arm around her daughter. She’d grown so tall, she was getting to be a real young lady, Emma thought proudly.
‘What’s the surprise? Are we going to get a pony?’ Julie Ann was excited. She’d been begging her parents for a pony for ages.
‘No, even better,’ Emma said with false gaiety. ‘We’re getting a new baby.’
‘A new baby!’ Julie Ann wasn’t impressed. ‘But what about my pony?’
‘Wouldn’t you like a new baby?’ Emma asked, somewhat dismayed by her daughter’s reaction.
‘Babies cry all the time. A girl in my class, Katy Nolan, has a new baby and it makes such a fuss, Mummy. I think I’d prefer a pony.’
Privately, Emma was in complete agreement.
‘Is it in your tummy? Did Daddy put a seed in your belly button with his willy?’ Julie Ann stared intently at her mother’s protruding stomach.
Emma nearly passed out peacefully.
‘Who told you that?’ she asked weakly.
‘Katy Nolan said that’s how her mummy got her new baby,’ Julie Ann declared nonchalantly as she redirected her gaze from her mother’s tummy to admire herself in the mirror. ‘Mummy, do you think I could let my fringe grow? Fringes are only for kids. I’m nearly grown up. I think it’s time I started wearing lipstick too.’
‘You can let your fringe grow. No lipstick.’ Emma was mightily relieved that all talk of seeds and willies seemed to be forgotten. ‘Go and get your new hairband while I get dressed.’
Promises, Promises Page 47
