She didn’t feel good about lying, it wasn’t in her nature to lie, but she forced herself to accept the idea that she wasn’t lying: she would tell Clive when the time was right. That time just hadn’t arrived yet.
Jude heard the crunch of Clive’s Jaguar pulling up outside the house. She could hear the upgraded sound system thumping through the car windows and through the double-glazed living-room windows into the house. Jude wondered how his ears could cope with the intense volume combined with the high-pitched belting sounds of heavy metal, his preferred genre.
She smiled to herself. Clive’s taste in music had barely changed in the time she had known him. In fact, little had changed about Clive Westbury in those twenty years. He was still as toned and boyishly handsome as the first day they met on her first day at campus.
“Crikey!” Jude bounced up, snapping out of her nostalgic memories as the silence of the curbed Led Zeppelin disturbed her. It meant Clive had left the car and would be in the house within seconds. She gathered her papers, frantically piling one on top of the other before throwing them into the red-leather magazine rack. She strategically placed her Interior Designer magazines over the papers so they were well out of sight, but definitely not out of mind.
Jude raced to the kitchen, yanking open the fridge. In her quest to get ahead of the project, she had been so utterly engrossed in her work that the time had been stolen from beneath her and supper had been as far from her mind as an alien invasion.
“I’m home, Jude!” Clive shouted from the hallway and the door slammed behind him.
Jude quickly poured two glasses of red wine and walked casually to the kitchen door which opened out into the expansive hallway, alive with flowers and family portaits. They too told the life-story of her marriage to Clive shown through a montage of naturally captured images.
Her heart fluttered happily as she stared up at them.
Jude watched Clive remove his tie just like he did every night, throwing it over the antique pine bannisters. His jacket followed within seconds. Clive’s routine was predictable and Jude liked that about him. His mood was unchangeably optimistic and that fierce determination he had engraved deep within him had never faltered. Clive Westbury got what he wanted.
He beamed at his wife, grateful for the reception and glad of the alcoholic offering.
Jude threw her thick blonde hair to one side as she leaned casually against the open doorway – it fell perfectly, wrapping itself around her shoulder and covering the top of her toned arm. Its length sat just above her breast, the ends of it twisted into silky locks.
Clive watched Jude. He knew she was deep in thought. He knew that because she always bit the skin inside her mouth when she was feeling pensive. He admired her perfect jawline which was made more prominent by the tilted angle at which she held her head. Her long neck was regal and flawless and her lips were covered in a natural gloss which enhanced their perfect shape.
“You look a bit tired, darling. Are you okay?” Clive kissed Jude on the lips as he took the wineglass. It was a perfect exchange.
“A little bit,” Jude answered with honesty.
“What’s for dinner?”
She looked around at her immaculate kitchen and stifled a snort. Even she couldn’t cook and keep the place so tidy. It was pretty obvious that little culinary action had taken place in that kitchen recently.
“I thought we might get an Indian delivered?” She raised her eyebrows. “What do you think?”
Clive looked around at the showroom kitchen and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s up to you, darling, I don’t mind.” He rubbed his eyes.
He was too tired to contest her suggestion and Jude felt rotten for not having dinner ready and waiting after his hard day at the office. After all, it was Clive who was keeping the roof over their heads, although it had been Jude’s inheritence which had provided the sizeable down-payment for the four-thousand-square-foot dwelling set admist twelve acres of land heavily protected by tree-preservation orders.
“How was the kids’ trip?”
Jude smirked as she recalled Anna’s half-cocked attempt at unpacking her suitcase. “Brilliant! Tom was on the black runs the entire week,” she boasted to her attentive husband. “And it seemed like Anna took the opportunity to sunbathe . . . with her goggles on . . . she looks like a panda.”
They both laughed.
“Where are they?”
“They’re at Mum’s.” Jude pulled open the hideaway drawer in the middle of the kitchen table, pulling out a wad of takeout menus carefully held together by a thick clamp. Everything had its rightful place in her house. She pushed the handles of the clamp together, allowing the menus to scatter on the table top. “They were desperate to see her. And she them.”
Clive nodded his head, deep in thought. “Okay.” He took a large gulp of wine. “Jude, are you sure you’re alright?”
Sophie’s phone bleeped to inform her that a text message was waiting to be opened.
She pulled the phone from the artillery-style jacket: R U free for lunch? Need to talk. Kath
Sophie looked up at Helena who it appeared was only now beginning to relax in the exclusive wine bar where they had met just ten minutes earlier.
“Hel, do you you mind if Kath joins us?”
Helena’s eyes widened. “Why would I mind? The more the merrier.”
Sophie replied to Kath: In Revolution James St. Not ordered yet. will w8 4u Soph x
Helena continually looked around her, taking in the type of place she never thought she would be in – not so soon after leaving Nathan anyway. The odd time they had been out together was in the student area of Manchester or to the local pub where the same age-old guys, barely breathing, continued to prop up the bar. This was a whole new experience for her and she had been rigidly tense when she walked through the door in her faded jeans and wearing Sophie’s top.
“What are you doing for the rest of the day then?”
Helena chewed the end of her straw. She was enjoying her drink immensely and cocktails during the day had never tasted nor felt so good. Each sip forced her deep into relaxation. She was a free woman.
“Now that I’ve got no bills to pay, Sophie, I thought I might go and treat myself to some new clothes. It’s been years since I’ve been able to do that.”
Sophie watched her best friend, who just a short while ago had her shoulders so hunched with nerves that they were close to her ears. But now all she could see was a woman with a bright future ahead of her, as a singleton for now perhaps, but a happy one.
Sophie didn’t know what her friend’s future held but she could already start to see signs of the old Helena resurfacing.
“Go for it.” She sipped on her sparkling water. She never drank on a working day. “You should get one of those tops, Hel, it really suits you.” Sophie beamed, determined to compliment her friend in order to boost her deflated ego. There was no acting involved when she was around Helena though – the girl who knew her through and through – including all her worldly secrets.
“I might just do that. Thanks for lending it to me by the way.”
Helena reached across the table and squeezed Sophie’s hand. She went to speak but closed her mouth quickly. But Sophie knew. She knew exactly what her best friend was thinking and no words needed to be exchanged to see just how grateful Helena was with her escape route and evacuation plan.
“Do you think someone would be able to fit me in at the weekend for a re-style and maybe some hi-lights, Sophie?”
“I’ll do it at home for nothing.”
Helena looked embarassed for the first time. “Please let me pay for it. I told you I’ve got money, Soph, I kept hold of most of the last bonus I got, just never told that loser. Plus, apart from food and bus fares to work, I’ve got no other outgoings any more – thanks to you.”
Her voice broke towards the end of the sentence and this made Sophie feel so good for her friendly deeds.
To the outside world it seemed tha
t Ms Kane was self-absorbed, the centre of her own universe. But it wasn’t true. It never had been. Sophie Kane was all about bravado when it came to suppressing her true emotions, but beneath the hard facade she had a heart that wished for a magic wand each time she saw someone in need. Sophie was the silent type who spent her money without discussing its tangible benefits with anyone. It was her business what she did with her impressive salary and Sophie had debit after debit going to some charity or another and whenever she heard people like Veronica Smyth say ‘Charity begins at home’ she would squirm inside, desperate to stand on her pedestal and put the world to rights – or instruct Roni how she could help put the world to rights – but she didn’t.
And she knew Roni wouldn’t.
Kath came rushing through the door, eyes red and skin paled to the bone. Both Sophie and Helena exchanges urgent glances.
Kath was a constant picture of health with glowing skin and clear eyes, all offset with unruly red hair which went with her unruly dress sense and unruly but contagious personality.
She dived onto the seat next to Sophie, keeping her back to the other diners to avoid embarrassment, bursting into tears the moment her frame collided with the furniture.
Helena shuffled closer to Kath to protect her from any peering audience in need of a little lunchtime entertainment.
“What is it, Kath?” she asked her softly. “What’s making you cry like this?”
Sophie handed her the white napkin, destroying its artistic folds and Kath dabbed her eyes with it, oblivious to the black streaks left both on her face and on the pristine linen.
“I don’t know!” she cried. “I can’t be sure – no, actually that’s rubbish, I can be sure it’s him.”
The women looked at each other in confusion.
“What’s him? Who’s him?” Sophie asked.
Kath lifted her head. Her eyes were heavy and she could barely look at her friends as the alien words left her mouth. Kath had always been afraid that once she said them it would become real and true. Just like it was about to become now.
“Jason,” she sighed. “It’s our Jason that’s been stealing the money. We caught him red-handed this time.”
Sophie gasped at the news and Helena swallowed hard, not looking at either of the women. She sobered up immediately.
“What are you going to do about it, Kath?” she asked.
Fresh tears rolled down Kath’s face. Her heart spilled drops of blood internally as it cracked painfully. She was unsure of what lay ahead as the tightly woven seams of bonded genetics frayed before her very eyes.
“I don’t know what to do.” Kath cried some more. She had given up putting on a brave face, she was too desolate for that. “What can I do? I mean, we suspected money had gone the other day – you know, the night we were in yours, Sophie, but as always we put the blame on ourselves when the money was short . . . but today we caught him – I caught him – hands in my purse pulling out what little I had in there to start with!”
“You could grass him up,” Sophie stated bluntly and Helena flinched.
“No way! I’d never do that,” Kath retaliated, taking staged breaths to calm herself. Her face contorted as she took in Sophie’s callous words. “How could any mother grass up her own son?” She was momentarily stunned. “Although I’m not sure I can have him living under the same roof as us any longer . . . not after what he’s done. It might seem like an overreaction to you both but it’s been going on so long now that we’re both at the end of our tether. It’s so difficult living with someone who steals from you. My nerves are on edge.”
“Could he stay with Neil until he sorts himself out?” Helena offered.
“Neil is fuming, Helena, wants to kill him in fact . . . but he will take him in to help us out. Jason’s still only nineteen so we need to know where he is and that he’s safe and if Neil doesn’t take him in he won’t be going anywhere. Let’s face it, we’ve no other family to help out, have we?”
Sophie said nothing but her mind raced as she thought of solutions to help out her friend who was clearly in crisis. Now was one of those very moments she needed that magic wand.
“You know, Kath . . .” Sophie was apprehensive but she continued bravely. She knew better than to offend people when it came to their children – the killer instinct kicked in every time – and she was fully aware that might happen any minute now, after Kath heard what she had to say. “Perhaps a spell away from the home might be the making of him?” Sophie dared herself to be outspoken on this rare and highly sensitive subject matter. “Now I’m not saying it won’t be the hardest decision of your life sending him away . . . but if all the other times when you’ve thought money was missing, Kath, were in fact down to Jason then it’s not a one off, is it? It’s something more serious and more sinister and who knows what he could go on to do. Crime has to start somewhere, doesn’t it? It starts with petty theft but can go on to serious offences and that’s what you need to think about.” Sophie took one last breath, hoping truly that her friend would see that her words were as impartial as they could be and meant for all the right reasons. “It might just be the making of him, Kath . . . as might grassing him up.”
Kath listened to Sophie like she always did. She didn’t always agree with everything Sophie said, but most of the time she could see that Sophie meant well. Unless she was in bitch mode. She clearly wasn’t now. “Sophie, if I put my own son in jail I might as well take the next cell to him because James would never forgive me, and do you know what else?” Kath’s eyes narrowed with fierce conviction and her lips tightened in a way her friends had never seen before. “I will never, ever give that witch the satisfaction of knowing that we’ve failed as a family unit . . . never . . . not while there is breath in my body. It’s just what she wants.”
“Kath,” Helena said calmly. “Jason wouldn’t go to prison for petty theft. His offence wouldn’t be serious enough for a jail sentence. This time I’m going to have to disagree with you, Sophie, by saying that doing that won’t help him. It would only make matters worse.”
Jude bent her head forward as the luminous hard hat was placed gently on it. She grinned as she stood back, catching her reflection in the window; she felt a part of things now.
She opened her black leather artist’s folder and pulled out a series of pencilled sketches, handing them to the architect who had accompanied her to Alderley Avenue for a scheduled meeting.
He smirked at her apparent desire to do both his job and her own.
“What are you paying me for, Jude? You’ve practically done all the hard work.”
“I’m not paying you, Sophie is,” Jude corrected him.
Her insides swelled with pride and exhilaration. She had always been keen on architecture and never wanted to just design the interiors of already manufactured projects. For this one which meant so much to her, she wanted to be a part of it from the very start, watching it grow from a dilapidated broken structure to a completed magnificent one which stood out from the rest with attitudinal charm. Jude wanted to be one of those specialists who could map out a structural blueprint for the building’s design, in addition to decorating, fixing and finishing it to perfection.
“They’re only ideas now, John. I wanted to share them with you so you could get a feeling for what I think the finished place might look like – in my own head anyway.” Jude was keen to clarify. She didn’t want him to think she was getting ahead of herself. She pointed to the wall in front of them. “It’s a pity really because that is a rock-solid wall and I’d hate to knock it down but I really feel that in order to maximise space we need to open up the downstairs – certainly at the front of the building anyway.”
John stared at Jude’s hand-drawn blueprints. Even the measurements were to scale and he was blown away by her level of detail.
“How come you know so much about architecture then?”
“Oh, I don’t really. I just had an interest in it when I was at Uni and I’ve followed it since. I
love Gaudi and Libeskind particularly, even though their work is completely contrasting.” She laughed.
“What about your own house, what’s that like?”
Jude was embarassed. She hated talking about herself. “Nothing special.”
They took the wooden stairs to the upper floor of the building. Like the rest of the unit the stairs were solid and reliable, in need of little work bar a coat of paint. But as usual Jude had other ideas.
“I’d like this staircase to be completely removed, John.” She hesitated, banging her hand against its solid wood. “I want to use the space here which is why it needs to go. It’s not the sort of staircase I had in mind, it’s way too old-fashioned. Ideally, I’d like a steel staircase fitted at the very back of the salon. It will cost a lot but I’d love it to start at the back of the building but, upstairs, come out at the front.”
John frowned as he listened attentively.
“It needs to be built at a difficult angle so that when the clients take the stairs at the back, when they get upstairs they suddenly find themselves at the front of the building.”
“Why?”
“Because the reception area for the beauty salon, which Sophie is going to charge rent for, is going to be upstairs and I want the clients who come up the stairs to be greeted with a light airy space which will be created by full-length windows giving amazing views of the street below.” Jude was on a roll. “That’s where the ‘luxury’ waiting area will be too – kitted out with leather sofas, a wall-mounted flat screen TV and the world’s most expensive coffee-machine!” Jude threw her head back and laughed. “Boss’s choice.”
Some Like it Hot Page 14
