Deep in her thoughts, Melissa hadn’t realised Poppy was tugging on her hand. ‘Mummeee,’ she said, scowling up at her, ‘why are you standing in the middle of the hall crying?’
‘I’m not,’ Mel said, blinking quickly.
‘Yes, you are. You’ve got wet cheeks,’ Poppy pointed out, her innocent eyes wide and now dark with worry.
‘I’m not crying, sweetheart,’ Mel assured her, quickly bending to pick her up. ‘I got shampoo in my eyes when I washed my hair, that’s all.’
Pressing her close, she gave her world-wise seven-year-old a firm hug, and tried to quiet her own rising panic. Poppy had looked at her as if she were mad. Was she? Or on her way to being? There had been a time when her grip on reality felt as elusive as sea slipping through sand. Simple, everyday tasks had been beyond her.
She couldn’t allow that to happen again, to be so emotionally dysfunctional she couldn’t care for herself, let alone her family. Her chest tight, she studied Poppy’s confused little face and steeled her determination. She would not to drift off to that faraway place and abandon her children.
Poppy leaned back, searching her face curiously in turn, as if she didn’t quite know what to make of her. ‘Where’s Jade?’ she asked.
Mel mustered up a smile. She couldn’t blame the child for that, she supposed, given her own odd behaviour lately. ‘On her way,’ she said. ‘She popped out to see a friend, but she’ll be back before Daddy and I go out. Let’s go and get your jim-jams on, shall we? And then you can help Mummy put some make-up on and make herself beautiful. What do you think?’
Poppy studied her for a second longer. ‘But you are beautiful, Mummy,’ she said, her expression concerned and earnest all at once.
Mel swallowed hard.
Twenty-Six
MARK
Mark drove home fast, cursing his thoughtlessness all the way there. He’d gone behind Mel’s back. There was no point in denying it. The whys and wherefores wouldn’t matter to Mel. He had. And he was sorry. But if Mel imagined, for one minute, that he would ever use anything that had happened between them as an excuse to… No way. Mel must know him well enough to know he would never risk losing his family, losing her.
Pulling haphazardly up on the drive, he took a breath and then pushed through the front door, cautioning himself to calm down. He was the one at fault here. He had no idea what was going on with Mel – he was worried about her, now more than ever – but, whatever his motives, he’d obviously made the situation a whole lot worse.
‘Daddeee!’ Poppy greeted him as usual, gleefully barrelling into him as he stepped into the hall, closely followed by Hercules, who seemed to be back on form.
Mark patted the dog and then scooped Poppy up into his arms. She was in her pyjamas, also as usual. The make-up though? Mark studied his daughter’s glossy red lips and smoky grey eye shadow with bemusement.
‘I’m beautiful!’ Poppy announced, pressing her small hands to her blushed cheeks and beaming at him.
Mark widened his eyes. ‘Undoubtedly.’ He smiled, pressing a kiss carefully to her nose so as not to smudge her. ‘Where’s Mummy?’
‘Trying her wardrobe on,’ Poppy supplied.
‘Ah,’ Mark nodded. ‘Not sure it will suit her, but…’
‘Not really the wardrobe, silly.’ Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘She’s trying some clothes on so she can look gorgeous.’
Mark quietly thanked God for the apparent normalcy – apart from Poppy’s makeover – that seemed to prevail. ‘In which case, I’d better go up and make myself gorgeous in case I’m too scruffy to be seen out with her.’ He smiled, turning for the stairs.
‘Wait.’ Poppy jiggled and pointed to the lounge, where Scooby-Doo was in full swing, judging by the sounds from the TV. ‘Mummy said I could watch the end of my programme.’
‘Bed as soon as it’s finished,’ Mark said, lowering her to the floor. Straightening up, he watched her scoot back to the lounge, and then turned back to the stairs with a shake of his head – and stopped dead.
‘Well?’ Mel asked, searching his face as she paused partway down.
‘Um…’ Loosening his collar, Mark looked her slowly over, taking in the five-inch heels, the long shapely legs, the tight, short red dress that fitted her every curve, and which Mel had previously declared made her look tarty. Mark had disagreed, he recalled, assuring her it made her look red-hot. His gaze travelled higher, pausing at her breasts over the low-cut neckline, and then upwards to her face. She was wearing makeup – plenty of it, unusually. It was the hair that really grabbed his attention, though.
‘Wow,’ he said.
‘Wow in a good way, or a bad way?’ Mel asked, studying him carefully. From her expression, however, Mark felt she wasn’t seeking his approval.
‘Good,’ he assured her. ‘You look… stunning.’ He didn’t lie. She looked breathtaking. Slightly perturbing, though, was that she didn’t look like Mel. Mark didn’t dare say he’d loved her hair the way it was, a fiery hot copper.
‘I thought I’d try a new look,’ Mel said. ‘Variety’s the spice of life, after all,’ she added, holding his gaze as she joined him in the hall. ‘Isn’t it?’
Noting the innuendo in her tone, Mark wasn’t sure what to say. He’d hoped to apologise, but here in the hall, with Mel scrutinising him, a defiant expression on her face, and Jade looking on from the galleried landing, didn’t seem quite the right time.
‘I’d, er, better get changed,’ he said, nodding upwards. ‘I’ll be two minutes.’ Smiling uncertainly, Mark headed on up, puzzling over this change in Mel. She’d smiled back, but… there had been something there, hiding beneath her cheerful expression. But she did look good, fantastic, and she seemed in control. Mark couldn’t help thinking it was forced though, that she seemed to be working hard at it.
Meeting Jade at the top, on her way into the nursery, Mark followed her in to have a quick check on Evie. Finding her sleeping, he breathed a sigh of relief, and turned back to the door, almost falling into Jade in the process. He hadn’t realised she was standing behind him.
‘Sorry,’ he said, catching hold of her forearms as she stumbled backwards. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No,’ she assured him. ‘Shhhh.’ She smiled, pressing a finger to her lips and gesturing him out of the room.
‘You’d better get a move on,’ she whispered, once they were on the landing, pointing down to where Mel was now heading for the lounge, calling Hercules to go out for a wee as she went, ‘or you’ll be in even more trouble.’
Clearly he was in trouble then. ‘Yeah, I think I might have some apologising to do.’ He smiled half-heartedly, guessing that Mel had ‘shared’ with her what an idiot he’d been.
‘Chocolates,’ Jade suggested. ‘They work for me.’
Mark nodded and dipped his head in appreciation. Chocolates were a no. With Poppy’s dairy allergy, they made it a rule not to have any in the house. Maybe flowers, he thought, and then wondered how they might be interpreted.
‘If it’s any consolation, I gathered you were just trying to get a female perspective,’ Jade offered astutely.
‘I was. Backfired a bit, though, didn’t it?’ Mark rolled his eyes at his own ineptitude. ‘I’ll try a grovelling apology, I think. And the most expensive thing on the menu. We shouldn’t be too late back,’ he said turning to the main bedroom. ‘You have all the numbers in case of emergencies, yes?’
‘All to hand,’ Jade assured him. ‘I’ll ring you if I need to, but don’t worry. I’m sure there won’t be any problems.’
Twenty-Seven
JADE
Well, there wouldn’t be any problems here. As for what might happen in the restaurant…
Jade watched Mark walk towards his bedroom, looking troubled, as he would be by his wife’s peculiar behaviour and trollopy appearance. Then, humming softly to herself, she headed along the landing to her own room, where she retrieved a shoebox from the top of her wardrobe. Pondering the side effects of the va
rious drugs, she was replacing the packet of slow-release capsules under the few bits of memorabilia she kept there when someone tapped lightly on her door.
Quickly snapping the lid back on the shoebox, Jade stuffed it well back on the shelf. It was Mark at the door – Melissa always called out ‘just me’ in an irritating singsong voice. Jade’s mouth curved into a smile. Turning for the door, she hitched her T-shirt over her head, tugged it off and unsnapped her bra. Then, reaching for the dressing gown Melissa had so kindly provided her, she pushed her arms into it, holding it loosely enough at the front to expose a good expanse of milky white breast as she yanked the door open.
‘Oh, my!’ Jade blinked, suitably mortified, as Mark got the desired eyeful before turning away. ‘I’m really sorry,’ she mumbled, the door now partly closed as she peeped shyly around it. ‘I thought it was Melissa.’
‘My fault,’ Mark said, as a gentleman would. ‘Please accept my apologies. I’ll announce myself next time.’ He was kneading his forehead in that way he did – flustered, obviously. Bound to be.
‘Apology accepted,’ Jade assured him, tying her dressing gown tight to expose a lot less of herself. ‘I’m decent now. You can turn around.’
Nodding, Mark turned back, looking decidedly uncomfortable. That was to be expected, she supposed. Jade continued smiling, her gaze grazing over him as he stood there, looking achingly sexy in a navy linen jacket with a light blue shirt underneath, dark jeans and leather belt. Her eyes rested briefly at belt level before travelling back to his face. Tall, dark and heart-stoppingly handsome; he was hers. Or he very soon would be.
‘I just wanted to let you know we were leaving.’ He smiled nervously. ‘Poppy’s still in the lounge. We’ll be back around eleven.’
‘I’ll come right down and fetch her. Enjoy,’ Jade said brightly, as he headed for the stairs. ‘Don’t drink too much.’
‘I won’t. I’m driving.’ Mark waved a hand as he went on down.
‘All the more for Melissa then,’ Jade called after him. The whole bottle would be good.
* * *
Poppy fell asleep in record time, Bedtime Peppa tucked cosily up with her and Hercules lying protectively at her feet. Jade scowled at the dog and then tiptoed out. Then back in again to feed the goldfish. Sprinkling the requisite pinch of food into the bowl, she bent down to peer at the fish, eyes wide and making a guppy mouth as she did. The water was getting dirty again, she noticed. Sighing, she tipped another more generous dollop of food in. Knock yourself out, Nemo. What kind of a life was it, swimming around in circles in shitty water anyway? Cruel, Jade thought. She gave him another sprinkle for good measure, and then, turning to poke out her tongue at Hercules, eased the door quietly shut behind her and crept out.
Peeping into the nursery, she noticed a little hand flailing in the cot and realised it was time for Evie’s feed. ‘Coming, sweetheart,’ she assured her, and then, humming, she went back to her room to collect her Boots bag before carrying on down to the kitchen, where she picked up the sealed container of milk Melissa had left in the fridge and tipped it down the sink. It was a good job she’d started weaning Evie as soon as she’d moved in – she congratulated herself on her foresight as she prepared the formula. With her careless mother stuffed full of drugs, breast milk would obviously harm the poor little mite.
Milk in the microwave, she slipped back upstairs and lifted Evie out of her cot. She was now wide-eyed and alert, looking forward to her bath, followed by a warm, cosy feed and a soft lullaby.
‘She’d probably let you slip through her hands and drown you in the bath, wouldn’t she, Angel, hmm? Or stuff you in the kiln and fire you. Silly Melissa.’ In sweet singsong tones, she addressed Evie by her proper name, which suited her far better. She laid her carefully on the changing mat to undress her.
‘You’re a gorgeous little girl, aren’t you?’ Pulling her little sausage arms and legs gently from her pink stripy sleepsuit, she saucered her eyes and smiled down at her, laughing as Evie smiled back. Then she blew on her tummy, causing Evie to chuckle delightedly.
‘Mummy’s perfect little Angel, aren’t you?’ she said, standing up and hoisting the naked little baby high in the air. ‘Don’t you worry, sweet girl, Mummy won’t let naughty Melissa hurt you. Daddy would be heartbroken, wouldn’t he, hmm?’
Holding her as high as she could, which Evie just loved, Jade twirled her around and around. ‘Piss off,’ she hissed over her shoulder, as Hercules growled at her from the landing.
Twenty-Eight
MELISSA
‘She’s absolutely amazing. I have no idea how I managed without her,’ Melissa said, regaling Emily and Adam with tales of their perfect babysitter. ‘She’s fantastic with the kids, isn’t she, Mark?’
‘Er, yes. You already said so, though, Mel.’ Mark looked worriedly from her to her wine glass.
Mel ignored him. She’d only had a couple of glasses. And someone had to fill the awkward gaps in the conversation, since Mark didn’t seem to have much to say for himself, unsurprisingly. ‘She literally fell into our laps,’ she gushed on, talking to their friends, rather than to him. ‘I mean, it was just dreadful, her house catching fire like that, but the timing couldn’t have been better from our point of view. Mark likes her too, don’t you, Mark? Then again, he’s quite partial to blondes. Thus…’ Plucking up a strand of hair, Mel indicated her own transformed locks.
‘It’s different,’ Emily said, glancing between Mel and Mark. ‘I still think I prefer your own colour, though. In fact, I was saying to Adam I wished—’
‘Can’t afford to let things shlide, see, we women.’ Mel waggled her wine glass in Emily’s direction. ‘I mean, having a baby’s the most natural thing in the world, isn’t it? We should just pop ’em out…’ Poking a finger in her mouth, she attempted to pop her cheek. It didn’t quite pop, but they’d get the drift. ‘And then bounce back to our beautiful, slim selves. Course, we’d have to be beautiful to start with. And slim.’ Mel furrowed her brow, pondering her pre-baby body forlornly.
‘Good job you’re both of the above then.’ Adam paid her a compliment, bless him, in the absence of one from her husband, whom she was obviously embarrassing, judging by the uncomfortable look on his face. Mel didn’t much care. She was so bloody angry. How dare he sit there in judgement of her.
‘But it has to be effortless,’ she went on determinedly, knocking back the contents of her glass and planting it on the table. ‘Lisa’s effortless, isn’t she, Mark? Like an adorable, natural little pixie.’
Mark glanced down at that, drawing in a long breath – quite clearly embarrassed.
‘I can’t believe she can hold her own as a police officer. Ooh, pardon me, I mean a detective sergeant.’ Mel flapped her hand, pseudo-apologetically. ‘Probably holds everyone else’s, as well,’ she added bitchily. Then, chuckling at her wit, whilst biting back a sudden urge to burst into tears, she reached for the wine bottle.
‘It’s all gone, Mel,’ Mark pointed out gently, glancing warily at Emily as he did so.
‘Oh well, we’ll just order another then.’ Mel waved the bottle by way of attracting the waiter’s attention.
‘The time’s getting on, Mel,’ Mark started. ‘Maybe we should—’
‘We’ll have another Pinot Grigio, please,’ said Mel, smiling sweetly and fluttering her eyelashes at the waiter as he came across to their table.
The waiter nodded politely and, apparently oblivious to her subtle flirtations, reached to relieve her of the empty bottle. Ah well, his loss. He was probably gay. Far too good-looking not to be. Mel looked him over, giving Emily a conspiratorial wink. ‘Adam’ – she turned to him – ‘another red?’
Adam glanced at Mark and then back to her. ‘No. Thanks, Mel, I’ve had more than enough,’ he said, with a gracious smile.
‘But you’re not driving,’ Mel reminded him. ‘You came in a taxi. What was the point of that, for goodness’ sake, if you didn’t intend to have a drink? Go on, go wild. Y
ou only live once.’
Adam reached up a hand and scratched behind his ear. A habit he was prone to when he was agitated, Emily had once confided. He looked a bit agitated. Mel squinted at him. Probably because of Mark sitting there looking so bloody po-faced.
What had he got to be miserable about? It was she who was supposed to be miserable, wasn’t it? Was she spoiling everyone’s evening? No. Shooting Mark a scornful look, Mel reached to grab his still three-quarters-full glass. ‘Here then. You might as well finish Mark’s,’ she said, pouring the remainder of the red wine into Adam’s glass. ‘He’s obviously not going to.’
‘Doesn’t look like I am either,’ Adam pointed out, pulling back out of splashing distance as most of the contents of the glass spilled onto the pristine white tablecloth.
‘Whoops, sorry!’ Mel closed one eye and smiled wanly. ‘Never mind. I’ll order you a single glass instead.’
‘Mel…’ Mark caught hold of her arm as she waved the glass in the air. ‘He doesn’t want one.’
‘Oh?’ Mel turned to glare at him. ‘And you’ve decided that for him, have you? Clearly you’re a mind reader now, as well as perfect in every other possible way and a genius when it comes to women’s feelings. I mean you’re just so flipping clever, I’m in awe. Particularly at how you cleverly managed to text Lisa about the little secret between you while she was sitting in my kitchen!’
The silence that followed was profound, made more obvious by all the diners in the restaurant seeming to stop clattering cutlery as one and turn heads in their direction. Mel didn’t care about that either. Was she at fault here? For what, exactly? Making a monumental effort to have a good time when the man she’d thought she could trust implicitly had betrayed her? Did he really expect her to believe Lisa’s feeble attempts to convince her they’d done no more than swap intimate texts? Hah!
The Babysitter: A gripping psychological thriller with edge-of-your-seat suspense Page 12
