I sensed my own face pale at his scornful words. I was about to reply when I felt Jon’s reassuring hand on my elbow. “It’s easily done when you’re very close to someone. Often the obvious isn’t as evident as you might imagine. And to give Moya due credit, she’s told me many times I remind her of someone from when she was younger.”
His smile was composed as he glanced from Martyn and then gave me such a look of tenderness, it nearly took my breath away. Not only could this man act, he implied we were close.
Evie, who had been quiet so far, snuggled closer to Martyn and whispered in his ear. He glanced over at us, replacing his annoyed look with a far brighter one.
“Can I have a little hush, everybody? I expect you’re all wondering why we’re gathered here this Friday evening instead of waiting for Belinda’s gorgeous Sunday lunch, eh?” He passed a self-satisfied look round, making sure it lingered on me, I noticed.
Jon and I exchanged looks, and I gave a careless shrug, although I had a strange feeling. Something was up.
I glanced at Mum and saw how keyed up and expectant she looked. For the first time in years, I realised she looked really pleased. Whatever Martyn had planned, if it made my mum happy, I was all for it.
As we waited, I noticed Evie was standing ever so still with her hands clasped in front. She never took her eyes from Martyn.
“So,” he said as he took a measured look round the room. “I’m pleased to announce that,” he paused for effect before carrying on, “Evie has consented to be my wife.” At first, there was a slight pause, and then a few gasps broke out as Martyn continued. My insides somersaulted.
“We wanted you to know before we told our friends. Evie and I visited our favourite restaurant for dinner last night, and I, being as romantic as I am, went down on one knee and asked for her hand in marriage. It created quite a stir and everyone applauded. Even the maître d’ wiped a tear away from his eye, and there was no way she’d have said no, even if I’d had the slightest doubt she might have. Evie, my love, you can show everyone the ring now.”
Evie unclasped her hands and demurely held out her left one. Her smile stretched right across her face, and I caught a hint of happy tears sparkling between her sooty eyelashes.
Mum was the first to move and crossed the room to engulf the delighted pair in a hug. After that, everyone broke out with their good wishes and exclamations.
I found myself next to Evie and I kissed her cheek. “Evie, I’m so pleased for you. It’s wonderful news.”
She grinned and wiped a tear from her nose. “Thank you, Moya. I’m so glad you think so.” We hugged, and I stepped aside to let Angela kiss her big sister.
I noticed Mum beckoning Darcy over, and together they left the room, returning a minute later with the afternoon tea trolley covered with more canapés, champagne glasses and three bottles of champagne. So Mum knew beforehand what was afoot, I mused.
Martyn clapped his hands together in delight before giving her a hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek. “Thanks Mum!” He laughed and winked.
He removed the foil and eased the cork from the first bottle. There was a resounding pop and everyone tittered. After filling the glasses and asking people to help themselves, he raised his own glass.
“I just want to say, this is the happiest day of my life. As you know, when Evie and I first met, we fell in love immediately. I want to thank you for welcoming me into your family, especially you, Belinda.” He raised his glass a little higher. “To Evie and me and my new family.”
Mum blushed and shook her head. “I’m overjoyed that Evie met you. I’ve never seen her so happy or lovely. Evie, you’ll make Martyn a beautiful bride.” She sniffed, and I saw she was close to tears, as was Evie and even my hard-nosed younger sister, Angela.
Martyn produced a handkerchief and blew his nose, his eyes suspiciously bright. I glanced round for Jon and moved to his side.
“I never saw that coming,” I said in a low voice.
“No? I’d say it’s a good thing, wouldn’t you? He obviously loves her and is doing the right thing.”
I nodded. “I’m really pleased for them, and I know I can now happily get on with my life.”
Jon smiled and leaned nearer so he could whisper. “I hope that includes me, Miss Waterford?”
Looking into his face, I felt drawn to his unusual eyes. I couldn’t remember seeing flecks of topaz in anyone else’s. His smile was warm, enveloping me in tenderness. My stomach did a flip, and I thought I could really grow to like this feeling.
“You bet it does.” My lips quivered beneath his as he kissed me gently.
We moved towards the others, as I realised I hadn’t yet properly introduced Jon to everyone. The atmosphere was party-like, loud, with laughter—a real celebratory air. Jon was welcomed and included, and we were soon separated. I wandered back to refresh my glass and felt Martyn’s presence by my side.
“So, Moya, how do you really feel about this?” he murmured.
“I think it’s great. Evie deserves more happiness. She works hard…” My voice trailed away. Martyn was too close, I could feel his body heat, smell the wine and garlic olives on his breath.
“That’s okay then. I’m glad you feel that way. I thought at first you were shaken by it.”
“No, well, maybe I was surprised. You both kept it so quiet. Evie never said a word, but then she wouldn’t have, since you stunned her in the restaurant with your proposal. It was romantic.” I finished lamely.
“Moya. Moya. I am sorry this is so tough for you. And I so didn’t want it to be, believe me.” He frowned and cocked his head on one side while he poured me another glass of wine.
“What? No, it’s not. I’m not finding it tough at all.” I frowned, shaking my head.
My hand rattled my glass against the champagne bottle. Martyn reached out and steadied it, his fingers curling round mine.
“Yes, you are. And don’t think I’m fooled one minute by your ‘boyfriend’. I know you think you’re being clever producing him, but it’ll take more than that to convince me.”
“That’s rubbish!” I said hastily, while yanking my arm away and feeling as if I’d been touched by something loathsome. As I pulled back, I knocked the champagne bottle out of his hand, and it landed on the floor with a crash. I stared dumbly at the champagne dripping out of the neck of the bottle, which was lying on its side. Surely I hadn’t hit the bottle that hard? Had he dropped it on purpose to create a scene?
I looked up, sensing everyone’s head had whipped round at the noise, but I only noticed Evie staring at me with an annoyed look on her face.
Chapter 10
The next week proved to be a real stinker, and it started with a problem concerning the suite of rooms I rented for my work.
My landlord had always been fair when it came to charging me rent, especially as he took it upon himself to include and oversee any decoration or maintenance. The rooms were due to be repainted that month, and Neville Black, my landlord, rang to say he and the renovator would be round after work hours to see what needed doing.
I knew that some years previously and before I rented the property, the tenant at that time had had frozen pipes in the loft. On his return from holiday, he found the pipes had burst, causing flooding in the loft and ceilings.
I read somewhere old buildings could be subject to fungal decay, especially if the five-hundred-year-old building had oak beams, whose ends of joists sat embedded in damp walls. I suspected I had damp, as the upstairs sometimes smelt of mildew.
That evening, I listened in dismay to Neville and the renovator, David, as they expounded on the problem.
“Death-watch beetles infest old oak timbers which have been affected by fungal decay. Sorry, Moya, but if we’d known the walls were still damp, we could have prevented this happening. What we’re saying is, we could have prevented an infestation by making sure the timbers were dry.”
“But what can you do? Are you positive they’re death-watch beetle
s? How much work is involved? Can you spray something on the beams?” I threw my questions at them, thinking of my diary and my regular clients.
The renovator, who, I had been informed, was also an experienced structural engineer, shook his head. “Not really. The chemicals only reach into part of the timbers, and yes, we’re sure there’s an infestation in at least four beams. We’ve found holes—flight holes they’re called—where the beetles escape. The best and most effective treatment is to keep the timbers dry. In this case, we’re going to have to remove these beams, as are they’ve rotted at the ends. I wouldn’t advocate leaving them too long because it could be dangerous.”
I raised my eyebrows. “What? You mean the ceiling could come down on me? Blimey.”
He nodded. “Yes. If it was a mild infestation, we’d wait until the spring and catch the emerging adults with ultraviolet incestocutors. Unfortunately, this isn’t the case.”
After he had left, Neville turned to me. “I know this is a blow, Moya, but I want to be careful. I’d hate anyone to get hurt because of neglect.”
“How long are we talking? I mean, how long will I have to stop work before I can start again?”
Neville scratched his head. “With the removal and then putting the new beams in place, plus the decorating, we must be talking at least two weeks.”
Two weeks! Okay, so I had money in my savings to rely on. I wouldn’t starve, but more importantly my regulars weren’t going to be too happy.
“Perhaps the best thing would be for you to take a holiday,” he suggested. “When was the last time you had one?”
I frowned, maybe he had a point. It had been quite a while since my last vacation.
We discussed when the work was due to start, as I had to let my clients know in good time, and then I hurried home. I was seeing Jon that evening, and I needed to get showered and changed before he arrived.
***
Jon and I attended a concert at the civic hall, but the orchestra wasn’t the London Philharmonic and the string section left a lot to be desired. During the interval, we decided to leave the venue and go for a light supper in one of Jon’s favourite restaurants, a tiny French bistro.
“Sorry about the concert,” he said later as we finished the bottle of red Bordeaux.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s nice here and I was hungry.”
We stared into each other’s eyes and leaned nearer to each other until our lips met. I felt his hand on my cheek; it was a light kiss, a promise of what was to come.
I couldn’t put it off any longer and I didn’t want to. We paid the bill and left the bistro, hips touching, his arm around my shoulders. I felt his thigh, firm and long against mine. As we turned to each other and kissed again, I saw a light flare in his eyes. He knew it was to be that night, too.
We buckled up in Jon’s car and were on our way. I tried to keep the feeling inside dampened down by glancing out of the window, watching the ever-changing view of the town. I leant against the glass as we passed other cars beetling along the roads, coloured lights changing, couples waiting for buses, horns, sirens and engine sounds. I saw and heard them all and took nothing in. My heart thumped in my breast, I found it hard to catch my breath.
I felt…nervous. It was irrational, I know. But Martyn’s words kept churning around in my mind and were in danger of spoiling what should have been a magical moment. I wasn’t upset by his and Evie’s engagement, nor was I finding it tough because they were together. Far from it.
No, the only thing bothering me was Martyn deducing Jon and I hadn’t been a true couple. Not yet, anyhow. How had the louse guessed? Had he some means of spying on me? I squeezed my eyes shut, as if by doing so, I was forcing him out of my thoughts. I had to forget him—it wasn’t worth wasting time on him.
We rolled to a stop outside my door, and Jon switched off the engine before turning to me.
“This is my place,” I said inanely and gave him a tremulous smile.
“You okay?” he said, stroking a finger gently down my cheek.
“Sure. Come on, I make a darn good nightcap.”
He got out of the car, walked round and pulled me to my feet while I was still fumbling with my seatbelt and picking my handbag off the floor. “That sounds like a great idea.”
Inside, we shed out coats on the floor, forgot the nightcap and grabbed each other.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, once we had come up for air. “Oh yes, it was a good idea all right.”
Later, I crept into the kitchen, uncorked a bottle of wine, picked out two glasses and returned to my bedroom. We snuggled under the covers, drinking from each other’s glass, giggling like teenagers, and the next time we made love it was more than gorgeous...it was perfect.
***
“I really must go,” Jon said in the early hours of the morning as he struggled into his shirt. I lay back admiring his bare chest before he did up all the buttons. He had lost weight and it suited him. “Please don’t think I’m making this up, but I have to get home to let Tango out.”
Of course—his dog. We had both forgotten, and Jon looked forlorn when he told me the poor thing would be lying at home with his legs crossed.
Fully dressed, he sat down on the bed and stroked my face. “It was a lovely evening. I hope we can do it again. What about tonight?”
“Definitely,” I said and then lay back against the pillows feeling delicious and decadent and molten with desire as I watched him pause in the doorway and blow me a kiss goodbye.
“I’ll ring you,” he said before disappearing.
I don’t know what woke me some time later. The night was very dark; I could only see a faint light in the room. I lay as still as I could, listening to the night sounds, and thinking that my breathing sounded loud in my ears. The window was open a fraction, and I heard the distant traffic as it rumbled along the main road. A whistle from a passing goods train hooted as it tore through the station. A dog barked further along the street. A rasping sound like a shoe against brick scraped along the pavement right by my house. I sat up and felt for the bedside light switch, then paused as I thought better.
It was probably a cat, but I wanted to be sure.
I decided against turning on the light and instead scrambled from the bed, dragging a dressing gown round me. Slowly, I parted the curtains an inch or two and peered down into the tiny front garden, my breath fogging the glass. The nearest street lamp was three doors away, making my area poorly lit. I had fitted an outside light for when I came home in the dark, but I invariably switched this off when I went to bed. Perhaps I ought to have left it on.
As I stared, I listened hard, and this time, there was no doubt. Someone had just trodden over my shingle bed. There was no mistaking the familiar crunch of the gravel. I pressed my nose against the glass, and then I saw him. I say him, but it could have been a her, as the person was dressed in black, including the balaclava pulled across his face.
The figure was moving quickly, making erratic and sweeping gestures at the walls of my home, and as I watched for those few seconds, I caught a familiar sound and detected a smell which reminded me of fresh paint. In a flash, I realised what the trespasser was doing, and I felt my temper rise. How dare he!
Without another thought, I turned away from the window and raced across the carpet towards the stairway. I tried to keep my movements as quiet as possible because I wanted to confront him before he finished and scarpered.
Later, on reflection, I should probably have called the police first, but I doubted they would have arrived in time to apprehend him.
Reaching the front door, I detected a whiff of something nasty, but I ignored it and grabbed a heavy vase from the hall table, shot back the bolts and opened the door. Everything happened quickly after that.
“Hey!” I yelled, simultaneously drawing back my arm holding the vase and coshing him over the head and shoulder with it. I heard a muffled cry of pain, and the figure dropped what he was holding before darting through the
gateway and making for the road.
I cursed. If I had been wearing suitable footwear, instead of being barefoot, I would have given chase. As it was, I felt a sharp stab in my left heel and realised I had trodden on a piece of broken china. Fuming, I watched the intruder disappear down an alley opposite and knew he would soon be in a maze of lanes. Unless he was caught on CCTV, there wasn’t a hope in hell of apprehending him, police or otherwise.
I turned towards the front of my flat, stumbling over something lying on the ground and saw it was an aerosol can. As I looked up and stared in horror, I was confronted by a complete wall of filthy slogans.
I stood there shaking, reading in disbelief what had been sprayed in red paint on my window, bricks and door. Basically, I was labelled as a useless slutty fuck with a stinking come bucket of a vagina. Apparently, I didn’t worry whom I slept with, either…among other things. The absolute bastard!
I stumbled towards the door, crept inside and pushed it shut behind me. It was then I recognised the stench I smelt earlier. Tacked on the inside of the door was a small basket covering the letterbox. Only this time, the basket didn’t contain letters. It was filled with an offensive, stinking, dog turd.
I felt sick. My mouth filled with water, and I bent over and vomited again and again, until I was bringing up nothing but hot bitter bile.
Chapter 11
Although the police were sympathetic about my graffitied wall, they weren’t much help. The young constable sent from the station blushed a remarkable shade of red when he read the choice phrases, but apart from taking down the time and a description of the ‘artist’, he couldn’t give me any assurance that anyone would be arrested.
He said all the usual things, agreeing how bad and grossly offensive it looked and how graffiti made the area appear neglected and could well encourage more anti-social behaviour and crime. Had I notified my insurance company, as it might be difficult and expensive to remove myself? He gave me no confidence whatsoever, and feeling thoroughly depressed by then, I couldn’t wait for him to leave.
Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) Page 6
