Who Needs Men Anyway?

by Victoria Cooke

  ‘I’d like to think the Emsworth family name will continue.’ She raised a well-shaped and highly expectant brow at me. Before I could answer, the front door opened, and as I craned my neck around the door, was relieved to see James putting his briefcase down in the hallway.

  ‘Good evening, ladies.’ He walked in, looking as handsome as ever. He loosened his tie as he came over and gave me a kiss, squeezing my arm knowingly.

  ‘Oh, James, it’s good to see you.’ His mother beamed at him as he walked around the breakfast bar to greet her.

  ‘You too, Mother,’ he said, kissing both of her cheeks dutifully.

  ‘We were just talking about children.’ I cut into their little embrace, so James would know what I’d been dealing with. He gave me a quizzical look.

  ‘Oh, let’s not bother him with that. He’s just walked in.’ Frances waved a dismissive hand. ‘Why don’t you sit down, James, and Charlotte will get you a glass of wine.’ She shot me a look before putting the salmon in the oven, and I dutifully went to get wine. The last thing I wanted was to cause more tension. I returned to find Frances telling James how wonderfully hardworking he was. I handed him his wine, and as his mother turned her back to finish chopping some salad, I felt his hand graze my bottom. I smacked it away playfully and went to set the table, feeling a little bit lighter.

  ***

  I paced the living room, waiting for Megan to arrive. Right on time, I saw her car at the gate, and I pressed the button on the intercom to open them before she even rang. There was a part of me that hadn’t even expected her to turn up, and who would’ve blamed her? I could only assume she was going through hell. It had driven me mad to the point that I’d almost considered James’s mother turning up a welcome distraction – until she accused me of being menopausal that was.

  When I opened the front door, Megan smiled cheerfully and bounced inside in a brightly coloured top with a ‘unicorn’ emblazoned on it. I wondered if her upbeat demeanour was just a front and eyed her suspiciously, scrutinising her face, looking for cracks in the façade. There was nothing notable.

  She caught me looking at her. ‘Is everything okay? Has my mascara smudged?’ She wiped a finger under her lash-line.

  ‘Everything is fine. You look . . . well. Really well, in fact,’ I said, trying to conceal my surprise.

  ‘I had a Guinot facial yesterday. It was a present from Mike,’ she gushed. She was happy. She didn’t catch him! He must have changed his plans. ‘Anyway, how are you?’ She furrowed her brow in concern. ‘Did your cramps die down?’

  It took me a moment to figure out what she was talking about, and I nodded, too busy reeling at how slippery Meandering Mike was. I needed a better plan. ‘I bet Mike was glad to have you home early?’ I pressed, needing to know why my plan had failed.

  ‘He was out when I got home.’ She shrugged. ‘Let’s get started then.’ While she fiddled with her iPhone trying to get some music to come on, I replayed the conversation Mike had had with the waitress over in my head. He’d definitely said ‘come over.’ I was sure of it.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I continued, not willing to let the subject drop yet.

  ‘Well, I did ring him on the way home to tell him I’d be back early, but he was already leaving to go to the gym. It was nice to have the TV to myself though.’

  I knew my part of the plan hadn’t been flawed. She’d warned him. I could picture them, all red-faced, scrabbling around for their clothes before escaping into the evening.

  ‘Anyway, come on – we only have an hour today.’

  She gave me an intense sixty-minute workout, but while I went through the motions, my mind was plotting a better, more foolproof plan.

  ***

  When it came off the printer the next morning, it looked fantastic. One of the charities I organised fundraisers for was a local hospice, who just so happened to be in need of a wheelchair-accessible swing – and they were five hundred pounds short. A few weeks earlier, I’d come up with the idea of a raffle and donated the prize of one night at the Halcyon Hotel with a two-course meal and use of the spa thrown in. Raffle tickets would be five pounds, and one hundred per cent of the proceeds would go to the charity. My intention was to sell them at the brunch I was throwing but I’d had a better idea.

  I’d spent the morning putting together a promotional flyer with photos of the spa, and it all looked very enticing. All I had to do was get waitress woman to buy a ticket, and hope she’d share the prize with Mike. But first, I had to make it look like the tickets were selling out. The next hour or so was spent using my address book to fill in the names and addresses of people who had already purchased tickets – just not to their own knowledge. Then I took some money from the safe and stuffed it in the tin before putting on my charity lanyard and heading over to the café.

  I walked in and spotted her straight away, pottering behind the counter.

  ‘Oh, hello, what can I get you?’ she asked. The nice filter coffee lady was nowhere to be seen and I wasn’t chancing the push-button cappuccino.

  ‘Nothing, actually. I’m here from the Springwell Children’s Hospice and was hoping to sell off one of my last few remaining raffle tickets to raise money for a new disability swing. If I could just show you what the hospice manager is hoping to purchase, you’ll see what a great addition it will be.’ I handed her a booklet from the hospice with a picture of a child enjoying a similar swing elsewhere.

  ‘Oh, yes it does look wonderful, but—’ she said politely sliding the booklet back towards me.

  ‘I could tell when I walked in you had a kind heart and for just a five-pound contribution, you could not only help the children at the hospice, but also win an all-expenses stay at the Halcyon Hotel in Manchester next weekend. The package includes a spa day and evening meal with a Prosecco welcome and one hundred per cent of the ticket money raised goes to the charity.’ I held up the hotel poster, which she eyed with interest.

  The corner of her mouth twisted. ‘Oh go on then! Yes, I’ll buy a ticket. I’ve always wanted to stay there; it looks gorgeous doesn’t it?’

  I struggled to control myself. This is even easier than I’d imagined.

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ I said, plastering on a smile. ‘Can you just fill in your contact details here for me so I can get in touch if you win?’

  She bent down to fill in the heavily populated form and emptied five pounds from her tip jar before handing it over.

  ‘Thank you, and good luck.’ I grinned at her before leaving. On my way home, I dropped off five hundred pounds to the very grateful manager at the Springwell Hospice and sent a text to Megan.

  I want a Pilates reformer for the gym. Would you mind coming with me to choose one on Saturday?

  ***

  Friday morning was the day of my brunch. I wanted to raise money for the local dog rescue centre and with the guests all pulling out to pamper themselves for Lauren’s ball, I was worried nobody would show up. The banquet hall was set up for the fifty original guests but Emmy and her posse had already taken that number down to forty-two. However, they’d donated eight hundred pounds between them, and paid for tickets, which was very kind but I was still in panic mode at the thought of empty seats. I’d almost caved in and invited Frances and her cronies.

  I stood nervously, greeting people as they trickled in, smiling politely and pointing out the drinks trays when my breath caught in my throat at a recognisable, ear-piercing shrill: ‘Charlotte.’ Mwah, mwah. Lauren had arrived and air-kissed both of my cheeks before I’d had time to register her appearance. ‘This is very cute.’ She gestured to the room.

  Cute? It was lavish with thick white tablecloths and matching chair covers, good quality silverware and champagne being served by fully clothed, handsome men. I doubted even Frances would have found anything negative to say. Okay, that was far-fetched.

  ‘Thank you for coming, Lauren,’ I said, not wanting to make a scene.

  ‘Yes, well I can’t stay long what with the
final ball preparations to tend to. I just thought I’d show my face and drop in a donation.’ She thrust a white envelope into my hand.

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’ I accepted it graciously.

  ‘Aw, sweetie, it looks like you needed me too. How many guests do you have? Fifteen?’ She attempted a sympathetic frown but her frozen brow didn’t crease.

  ‘There were fifty confirmed, which was the maximum for the room but I’ve had some last-minute cancellations.’

  She let out a loud, fake laugh and placed a hand on my arm, which I willed her to remove. ‘These Cheshire women – what are they like? They will be preening and pampering themselves for tonight no doubt.’

  ‘No doubt,’ I repeated through a tight smile.

  ‘I’ve one hundred and fifty confirmed for the ball. Tickets started at almost two hundred pounds so I know I’ll make a killing for my charity.’

  I took a deep breath; the last thing I wanted was for my voice to crack. ‘That’s wonderful, Lauren. What’s the fundraising for again? James was asking but I couldn’t remember. I just said that knowing Lauren, it would be a fantastic cause.’

  ‘Er, yes, it is.’ She swallowed hard and placed a meaningful hand on her chest. ‘It’s for victims of botched cosmetic surgery. These women have nowhere to turn, barely any rights, and the state doesn’t want to know. Our funds help to pay for legal fees and in some cases even corrective surgery so they can live the lives they dreamt of.’ There was a falter in her voice.

  ‘Goodness me, you’re an ambassador of hope, Lauren. What poor souls.’ Her smile indicated my sarcasm had escaped her, so I pushed it a little more, to ensure she picked up on something. ‘Such a cause must require a turnout of such great numbers. I wanted a smaller more low-key affair, classy and personal, you know?’

  ‘But isn’t that –’ Lauren paused to squint at a lady who had just walked in.

  ‘That’s Janet, you don’t know her – she’s in high-end retail.’ I sipped my champagne and walked off to greet Janet from Budgens’ who’d thankfully agreed to come and boost my numbers. Enticed by some free tickets at the last minute she’d even brought two friends along.

  Once we were seated and the smoked salmon and scrambled eggs were served, I started to relax and feel wonderful about raising money.

  It was 3 p.m. by the time I got home. There wasn’t time to get a blow-dry or my make-up done – I had to do it all myself so I went with straight and sleek since my hairdressing skills were just about up to the task of running a GHD over my already professionally straightened locks. The gown section of my wardrobe wasn’t sporting anything new, but I had a black off-the-shoulder cocktail dress from Reiss that I’d only worn to James’s summer ball the previous year, which nobody would have seen, so I decided on that. James walked into the bedroom as I was applying my make-up.

  ‘Why are you getting all dressed up?’

  I spun around to face him. ‘What do you mean? Why aren’t you showered?’ I asked, incredulous.

  He looked completely taken by surprise.

  ‘It’s Lauren’s ball tonight. Why aren’t you ready?’ I punctuated with a glare. ‘It’s on the calendar.’

  ‘Sorry, Charlotte, I hadn’t seen it. I’ve planned a Skype meeting tonight.’

  ‘Then cancel it! It’s Friday night for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘I can’t, if I’m not online at 8.30 p.m. sharp, there’ll be hell to pay.’

  ‘But having hell to pay with me isn’t an issue?’

  He let out a sigh and threw up his arms. ‘I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do. We got our wires crossed, that’s all. You’ll still have a good time.’

  ‘Of course I will, with Emmy and Lauren and co. It will be just fabulous,’ I stormed.

  ‘Aren’t any of your other friends going?’

  ‘Kate’s down in London and . . .’ I paused. ‘I will be fine.’

  Butterflies flapped about in my stomach as my car neared the hotel venue. When the driver approached my side of the car and opened the door, I almost asked him to take me home but, if I did that, it would give the women of Cheshire a few good weeks’ worth of gossip fodder. Instead, I put on my brave face and climbed out of the car. Half-naked, gold-painted men holding trays of champagne lined a red carpet up to the entrance and I grabbed a drink gratefully, guzzling it down in time for another one before I’d reached the entrance.

  ‘Oh, Charlotte, we’re so glad you came.’ Lauren was standing at the entrance in a garish gold, bottom-grazing dress. Her equally unpalatable husband was by her side.

  I smiled. ‘And what a lovely greeting.’ I gestured to the men.

  ‘Where’s that delightful husband of yours?’ The corner of her mouth twitched like she was enjoying seeing me arrive alone. Granted it was a little awkward turning up to events like that but she didn’t have to relish in my discomfort.

  ‘He’s busy with work – he has this huge case going on.’

  ‘Well, he needs a better team around him if he still has to work Friday nights,’ Lauren’s husband Giles butted in. ‘Tell him I could teach him a lesson or two.’ Patronising prick.

  ‘Never mind, Charlotte, there are some ladies from the bridge club who’ve also come alone. You can sit with them.’ I smiled in response and started to walk inside but felt Lauren’s hand on my arm. ‘I love your dress by the way. Isn’t it a 2017 piece?’ There was a hint of smugness in her tone.

  Anger exploded in my chest. I couldn’t take much more of this woman.

  ‘Yes, it is. Apparently, garments don’t spontaneously combust at the turn of a season – who knew?’ I spun on my heel and walked over to the bridge ladies, which looked like the casting couch for Cocoon. The rest of the evening was rather dull. The elderly bridge ladies didn’t work hard to include me in their conversation, which consisted mostly of loud repetition because one of them ‘didn’t like to wear her hearing aid any more’ and I found the ‘victim’ speeches a little self-indulgent. Obviously I’m sorry things didn’t go well for them but they’re all wealthy people; they didn’t need Lauren’s fundraising circus. I’d been working hard to drown out the narcissistic din of Lauren’s speech until hearing my name made my ears prick.

  ‘Now, Charlotte Emsworth held a sweet little gathering earlier today and I know some of you were invited but couldn’t make it and, well, it possibly lacked the anticipated support. She was trying to raise a few pounds for a dogs’ charity here in Cheshire and I thought the least we could do tonight, would be to dig deep and collect a bit of change for the cause. Since there are so many of you here tonight, I’m sure we can make a real difference.’ She shot me a glossy smile from the stage and my cheeks flamed. There was a round of applause and comments around the table to the tune of ‘what a considerate woman Lauren is’, and ‘what a lovely thing to do.’ But she wasn’t; she was belittling me on purpose.

  The speeches ended and as the music started, I saw Lauren heading over. Great. ‘Charlotte, I felt terrible about your little event failing today. It’s partly my fault, clashing the dates like that. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.’ She placed a dramatic hand on her brow. ‘I just hope my influence helps your cause.’

  ‘Oh, Lauren, I’m sure it will and honestly, don’t worry, organisation is quite a skill. We can’t all be good at everything all of the time.’ I managed a tight-lipped smile.

  Lauren nodded courteously. ‘Well, everything else has gone so well, I can forgive myself one little slip-up.’

  ‘Ha-ha yes.’ I laughed. ‘Probably just your age.’ I batted a hand flippantly to indicate to the bridge ladies I was teasing but it didn’t appear as though any of them were listening.

  Lauren laughed nervously. ‘Always the joker.’ She glanced around the table and when nobody was paying attention she leaned in closer. ‘But the jokes are on you. You’re a failure; everyone can see that and now you’re here alone, sat on a table of old biddies because not even your husband wants to be around you.’ My heart beat furiousl
y, so quick and powerful it reached my ears drowning everything else out. I couldn’t think or speak.

  Lauren turned to leave, smirking. I couldn’t let her walk off, thinking she’d won – and what popped out of my mouth next was neither well-thought-out nor elegant but knowing the ladies around the table wouldn’t understand, I went ahead anyway.

  ‘Hey, Lauren, stunning vajazzle by the way. How brave of you to show it off – good on you!’ I stared pointedly at her receding hemline, which she tugged down on self-consciously as her face reddened.

  ‘I think you should call a cab home. You’ve obviously drunk too much champagne – though it is free so who can blame you.’ With that she stalked off.

  I sat there for a moment, processing what had just happened and regret started to mount. Oh God. I threw my head in my hands. Why did I have to say that? I was sure there’d be consequences, not least because vajazzling was so 2011 and she wouldn’t be seen dead with one. I sighed before pulling out my phone and calling the chauffeur company. As I stood up to leave I heard the elderly lady with the hearing aid say a little too loudly to her friend, ‘Vaahjazzle, is that a new designer? I do like to keep up.’ Oh bugger, I thought. Now she turns her hearing aid up.

  ***

  I picked Megan up at her house and we went to the huge fitness warehouse on the outskirts of town. As Megan wandered around the leg extension and reformer machines, I observed her, oblivious to what she would soon find out. My heart ached for her as she seemed such a sweet, innocent soul. Not like the women at the charity ball – though I think it was safe to say I was well and truly out of that group. I bumped into Emmy in Budgen’s and said hello but she stone-cold blanked me. She just walked past with her chin up high as if I wasn’t there. She was like some queen-bee cast member from Mean Girls.

  I probably should have cared more but I had a family to make and cheaters to catch. They could go about saving themselves from the perils of bad surgery and I’d focus on my business. James wouldn’t be impressed when all the men found out but I’d deal with that issue when it arose.