‘I’m sure he wouldn’t mind in the circumstances.’
But Julia wasn’t about to stand up her only friends. ‘It’s ten minutes out of your way.’
‘Of course I don’t want you to get a taxi, Mum. We’re leaving now. See you soon.’
Rufus kept glancing at Scarlett as they drove toward her mum’s. She waited for him to say something.
Glance.
Nothing.
Glance, glance.
Silence.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Is something wrong, Rufus?’
‘No, not at all, darlin’!’ He reached for her hand as usual. ‘I’ve got the feeling something is different about you. New haircut?’
Well, thought Scarlett, in a manner of speaking. ‘I’ve got make-up on.’
‘Maybe that’s it.’ He signalled off the motorway.
Scarlett got a wicked thought. ‘I’ve also shaved my pussy.’
What?! She never said things like that.
He stared at her as they came to at a light. ‘You didn’t! Let me see.’
‘What, here? No way.’ Her heart was racing. She did have a dress on. He could see for himself if she got her knickers off.
This was crazy. Her mother was waiting for them just around the corner.
His hand found her thigh. He seemed to have the same idea. ‘Show me,’ he said. Her skirt lifted.
‘I can’t. I’m wearing pants.’
‘Take them off and show me.’
She glanced at the bulge growing in his jeans. ‘Let’s go somewhere.’ She wriggled out of her knickers and laid them across his thigh. ‘You can’t look,’ she teased. ‘Keep your eyes on the road.’
‘Jesus, Scarlett.’
They were near to the house where she grew up. ‘Turn left here. Behind those garages.’ She used to smoke back there with her next-door neighbour. In her wildest dreams she never imagined she’d have sex there one day.
They had to be quick, but neither of them were in the mood to dawdle.
They were only ten minutes late to Scarlett’s mum’s. ‘We haven’t done that in a while,’ Rufus said as he parked the car in front of Julia’s house. ‘I mean fun like that.’
She knew he meant to be complimentary, but that stung. Was it really usually such drudgery?
‘Are you ill?’ Gemma scuttled away when Scarlett made her way into their dad’s kitchen. ‘You’re flushed.’
Gemma totally overreacted if she detected so much as a sniffle. She didn’t get headaches. She got brain tumours. Her parents had no idea where this hypochondria came from, since neither of them were inclined toward overreacting. But Scarlett knew her sister went through a phase of reading The Complete Dictionary of Diseases before bed when she was about eleven. They’d pored over the terminology together, but only Gemma came away with a mortal fear of every lump and bump she’d found since.
It was a good thing she’d married a doctor. Finally, after years of dating wankers, Gemma met someone who thought she was just wonderful. She and Jacob were in love within weeks, engaged and married in a year. Not only was he a very good husband and in-law, he saved the NHS loads of money by keeping his wife and her imaginary ailments away from the GP’s surgery. Both the Fothergill family and the health service were very happy to have him in Gemma’s life.
‘You’re making a rare appearance,’ she said to her brother-in-law. ‘Have you killed off all your patients?’
His deep brown eyes twinkled as he flashed her a smile worthy of a toothpaste advert. ‘I couldn’t miss Felicia’s meal.’
She jostled him fondly. ‘You are such a suck-up.’
‘Come here, let me feel you,’ said Felicia, reaching for Scarlett’s forehead. The electric blue metal bangles piled up her wrist jangled merrily as she checked for a fever. She was always wearing Indian jewellery with the riotously-coloured tops and dresses that filled her wardrobe.
‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’ Scarlett waved away their concern. ‘We were in a rush to get here, that’s all. We had to pick up my mum first. Her insurance lapsed so her car was towed.’
‘That’s not like your mum,’ Felicia said, frowning. ‘It’s usually your dad’s kind of thing.’
‘Don’t tell Mum that.’ Scarlett looked guiltily into the lounge where Julia was talking to William. ‘You know how she hates to think she’s anything like Dad. She says it’s just an administrative error.’
Julia had been unusually vague about the car’s disappearance. It really wasn’t like her at all.
‘What’s that?’ Scarlett asked, noticing the Amazon boxes piled beside the table in one corner of the kitchen.
‘It’s your father’s train set. He’s going to run it round the top of the lounge.’
Others might have raised an eyebrow at a fifty-something man’s desire to establish a rail route round their lounge, but that was exactly the kind of thing that Felicia loved him for. She liked her whimsy by association. She could appreciate it in William without feeling any inclination toward it herself.
Rufus smiled wickedly at Scarlett when she went back into the lounge. It was a smile full of love, and lust. She felt her face bloom. Not in front of my parents! It didn’t matter how old she was or that they probably assumed she had sex with her husband. Around them she’d always be their little girl.
‘Is everyone ready to eat?’ Felicia asked. ‘What would you like to drink? Gemma? Jacob?’
‘Water is fine, thanks,’ Gemma said.
‘Are you detoxing again?’ Scarlett accused her. ‘I’ve told you that’s not healthy. Jacob, you’re the doctor, tell her.’
‘Actually, in this case water’s okay,’ he said, glancing at his wife.
‘I’m not detoxing. But I won’t be drinking for a while.’ The smile bloomed over Gemma’s face. ‘Or eating sushi or blue cheese or about a million other things I love.’
Scarlett stared at her sister. ‘ARE YOU?’
‘Is she what?’ William asked, startled by Scarlett’s outburst.
‘Pregnant? Gemma, are you?’
‘I am, honeypots! Eight weeks today.’
Tears sprang to Scarlett’s eyes. ‘Are you sure you didn’t just eat too much pasta? You’re not overreacting to a carb tummy?’ Gemma had suspected pregnancy, or coeliac disease, before. Besides, she couldn’t be pregnant when Scarlett was supposed to be the pregnant one.
‘Ha ha. I’ve taken the test. It’s official. Believe me, it was a surprise to us, too!’ Gemma noticed her sister’s tears. ‘Scarlett? Are you okay?’
She absolutely could not say anything about trying themselves. She’d only steal Gemma’s and Jacob’s thunder and shift attention to herself. And she definitely did not want that. ‘Oh, of course, I’m just overwhelmed,’ she said. ‘I do feel a bit warm, actually. Maybe I am coming down with something.’
A blanket of jealousy enveloped her so quickly that it was suffocating. She actually hated her sister at that moment. So much that she didn’t want her to be pregnant. How could she feel like that? She loved her sister.
No, she hated her.
Rufus moved to her side. ‘Are you okay?’ he whispered as the family circled Gemma and Jacob.
‘Yeah,’ she said, because what else was she supposed to say? That she’d been taking pregnancy tests for months and not telling him? It didn’t seem like quite the right time for that, or any other confession.
Scarlett couldn’t stop shivering the next morning. Only her eyes were hot. They burned even when closed, and her nose was streaming. She reached under the bed for the loo roll she’d staggered out of bed in the middle of the night to find.
Being ill did nothing to distract her from Gemma’s news, though. It just gave her another reason to feel sorry for herself.
‘How are you feeling, darlin’?’ Rufus set a steaming mug of coffee beside her and rubbed her back.
‘I’b so sick!’ she honked. The flu had come on so fast that she didn’t even have time to wheedle for sympathy. One
minute they were driving back from her dad’s and the next she had the plague. ‘I can’t do the classes today.’
‘Definitely not. You have to stay in bed and rest. I could ring in if you want, and look after you?’
She stared at her husband, her mouth open so she could breathe. When she inhaled through her nose, her nostril whistled. He really did love his feverish, dribbling, slack-jawed wife. ‘Would you?’
‘Of course.’ He kissed her in spite of the dribble. ‘I’ll ring them now. Stay in bed and drink your tea. Can I make you some toast?’
‘Do thanks, I’b not hungry.’
‘The dogs want to say h’lo,’ he said as he opened the door.
They bounded into the room, unfazed by their owner’s decline. Their little legs were too short to propel them to the mattress, though, and Scarlett dozed off again with one hand over the side of the bed to pet them.
‘No, dogs!’ Rufus shouted, startling her awake. Hazily she saw him on the floor beside the bed.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Your dogs found the loo roll,’ he said, gingerly scooping up a wet white lump with kitchen roll. ‘I think they got most of it out of their systems.’
She drifted back to sleep, thinking of loo roll and babies.
Chapter 13
‘Scarlett sends her apologies again,’ Rufus told Shannon as he kissed her flushed cheek. ‘She couldn’t even get out of bed today, she’s been so ill. But she promises she’ll see the show before it ends. It doesn’t look like you’re short of admirers anyway.’ He scanned the packed room where artists, their friends and families and, they hoped, a few real clients milled around clutching glasses of warm Pinot Grigio.
She didn’t need to tell him that the crowd belonged to other students. He knew everyone she did. Her family and a few of their school friends had already come and gone. Thinking about it, maybe she shouldn’t have rushed them out like she did, but it was for their own good. There was only so much polite talk about student artwork one could make without getting bored.
‘Poor Scarlett!’ Shannon said. ‘She sounds like she went down like a ton of bricks. I know how she feels. When I got flu last year I missed class for over a week. It was kind of you to come, though.’
‘A huge art lover like me? I wouldn’t miss it.’
‘What a liar,’ she said. ‘But I appreciate it.’
‘So these are yours?’ He took in the abstract paintings in front of them. ‘They’re really good. Did you use a brush? The paint looks trowelled on.’
Shannon glared at him.
‘I don’t mean trowelled on like your make-up! … I mean like one’s make-up. You don’t even wear make-up. I just mean I can’t see any paint strokes and it looks too thick for a brush.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Should I just go now? I can show myself out.’
She laughed. ‘It’s acrylic and palette knives. That’s why it looks trowelled on.’
‘I do like the colours,’ he said, trying to recover. ‘They’re not garish like those cheesy paintings they put in cheap hotel rooms.’
She followed his gaze as it wandered to her fellow student’s neon street scenes. They were definitely garish.
‘I suppose that’s a friend of yours,’ he said, knowing he’d been busted.
‘My boyfriend, actually,’ she said. ‘He painted his way into my heart with those neon acrylics and now we’re very much in love. We spend our weekends together touring Holiday Inns to admire the art.’
‘Just don’t tell Mr Darcy,’ said Rufus. ‘He’d never get over the heartbreak.’
They laughed over the Mohave Desert that was Shannon’s love life.
She spent the rest of the show avoiding eye contact with anyone she didn’t know. She nearly fainted every time a stranger approached her paintings. Please don’t talk to me, she thought. In theory it was fine to create art for other people’s enjoyment. But what if they didn’t enjoy it? What if they sneered or muttered about a lack of originality, or talent? She’d rather not know, thank you very much.
‘Shannon!’ Julian sang later, when he finally broke off from holding court on the other side of the gallery. ‘You’re coming for drinks, yes? It’s nine o’clocktail!’ He did a double-take when he noticed Rufus. ‘The delectable Rufus! Enchanté.’
Rufus just barely missed being kissed on the mouth. ‘Nice to see you again, Julian. Has the night gone well for you?’
‘I’ve sold three! And they were the expensive ones, too.’ He held his hand over his mouth to speak. Shannon and Rufus leant in to hear him. ‘They’re the ones I put the price up on, you remember the ones. The punters think they’re worth more now!’ When he threw his head back to laugh, the diamante choker at his neck sparkled. He was channelling Audrey Hepburn, demurely dressed in a vintage black dress with his dark hair in a man bun. ‘So… drinks, yes? You too, Rufus, of course.’
‘Sure, I’ll come along. Let me just ring Scarlett and see how she’s feeling.’
Julian put his hands over his heart. ‘Such devotion. The good ones are always taken.’
Shannon rolled her eyes.
‘Don’t feel obliged to come,’ Shannon told Rufus when he’d hung up. ‘You probably want to get home to Scarlett.’
‘No, actually I really want to. And drinks are on me tonight, by the way. You’re celebrating.’
‘I wouldn’t say that too loudly,’ she warned. ‘The other students will be on you at the bar like a pack of hyenas.’
Everyone went to a bar that they liked near the art school. It was one of those places that tried being all things to all punters – café, bar, laptop doctor, beard-trimming parlour and dog groomer, that sort of thing.
‘It’s packed,’ Rufus said when they got there. The huge, bright loft-like space was strewn with Formica tables, stackable wire chairs and millenials.
‘But it’s never too packed,’ she said. ‘Watch this.’
Two of the students found a tiny table with a lone chair. The girl begged another chair off a table nearby, then, like ants sent out into the forest, everyone in the group foraged through the bar till they’d found enough chairs.
‘The incredible expanding table,’ she said as they found their own seats. ‘A normal bar wouldn’t let you do it, but I guess student bars do.’
‘As long as they sell drinks they probably don’t care. Speaking of which, what would you like? I assume they don’t have table service?’
She smirked. ‘Pints cost two pounds on most nights. No table service. Go quick,’ she whispered, ‘before the others catch on.’
Too late. Julian was suddenly at her side. He’d changed into frayed boyfriend jeans and a form-fitting blue and white striped tee shirt. Julian’s fluid dress sense had caught Shannon off guard when they first met. She hadn’t run across any men who wore tights before, but when she thought about it, why shouldn’t they if they wanted to? In Victorian times a woman in trousers was scandalous and now they were the norm. Times change.
‘Catch on to what?’ Julian asked, knowing full well the answer.
‘Drinks,’ said Rufus. ‘Can I get you one?’
Shannon noticed a few heads turn their way. Don’t make eye contact, she willed him.
‘Something fruity, please,’ Julian answered. ‘Surprise me, as long as it’s non-alcoholic.’
As soon as Rufus made his way to the bar, Julian said, ‘Exactly how happily is he married, darling?’ He tugged on a lock of her hair. ‘Surely he’s too adorable to be off the market. He’d be perfect for you.’
‘Yeah, right, except that he’s my best friend. As is his wife… that’s his wife, Julian. Don’t be such a homewrecker.’
‘I’m just looking out for your needs, darling.’
‘I don’t have needs,’ she said.
‘You don’t?’
‘Nope, not me, none. I’m like a self-cleaning oven. No upkeep required. You don’t need to worry about me.’
‘Well, all right, but just remember, darling. It’s not h
ealthy to self-clean for too long.’ He looked toward the bar. ‘Uh-oh. She didn’t take long.’
Shannon followed his gaze to where Rufus was chatting with a Marilyn Monroe lookalike. She stood about a foot too close and kept touching him when she laughed.
Roxy the Rocket, the Class of 2017’s very own man-eater. She’d been round the campus more times than the Domino’s delivery guy.
‘Should we save him?’ Julian wondered.
‘Save him? We’re not twelve.’ She looked again. ‘He’s coming back.’
‘So is she.’
Sure enough, Roxy had wriggled her way in front of Rufus to be sure he got a look at her best side.
Shannon looked pointedly at the three chairs they’d gathered as Rufus handed out the drinks. Count them, Roxy, she thought. Three chairs, not four. ‘Hi, Shannon!’ Roxy made a big show of kissing her on both cheeks like they were friends. They weren’t friends.
She seemed to be accepting an invitation that hadn’t been made, the trespasser.
‘Rufus was just telling me about your paintings,’ she said. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t see them, but I’ll be sure to have a look tomorrow.’
Like her own work was so mesmerising that she couldn’t tear her eyes away to notice anyone else’s.
She hovered beside one of the empty chairs, making Shannon feel increasingly awkward.
Finally, Rufus said, ‘Sit, everyone. I’ll grab another chair.’ He set both his pints down – he wasn’t joking about cutting loose.
Roxy deftly shifted the woman beside her out of the way to make room for Rufus when he returned, just as Shannon caught Julian’s did-you-see-that face.
She’d seen it, all right.
‘Roxy was just telling me she sold all her paintings tonight,’ Rufus said as he sat. He gulped down most of the first beer.
‘It helps to know people,’ Roxy said. She even mimicked Marilyn’s breathy voice. Shannon thought she sounded like she needed an inhaler.
‘How did you do?’ she asked Shannon sweetly.
‘Okay,’ she murmured, watching Rufus start on the second pint. ‘I guess you had a lot of friends there tonight?’
Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts Page 9
