“Did you hear that, Allie?” Mrs Burnley asked.
“I did.” Allie flashed a glance at Dawn. “You saw a rat?”
“Not exactly.” The elderly woman drummed her nails on the counter. “Your cat, the grey one, dropped it on my doorstep then ran away.”
“Oh. Do you mean Luna?”
“That’s the one. Total nuisance that cat, always leaving dead rodents on my step. Have to scrub it with bleach on a daily basis.”
“I am sorry, Mrs Burnley. But usually that’s a sign that a cat likes you.”
Mrs Burnley sniffed. “Only since you moved in with Chris.”
Dawn processed the information. Mrs Burnley lived a few doors down from Chris Monroe and Allie, and it seemed that Allie’s one cat, Luna, had been leaving gifts for Mrs Burnley.
But a fat white rat?
“It had no tail either. The cat must have eaten it first.”
Dawn gasped and Mrs Burnley turned to look at her.
“I know. Disgusting, isn’t it?”
Dawn nodded. “Uh… What did you do with the… rat?”
“Threw it in the bin, of course.”
“The bin in your front garden?”
“Yes, of course.” The older woman frowned at her.
“Right. Okay. Uh… thanks.” Dawn turned and hurried back over to Rick.
“What was all that about?”
She took a shaky breath as a wave of nausea hit.
“Dawn?”
“I don’t think it was a rat.”
“What was it then?”
“I think it was Wallace.”
“Wallace?” His eyebrows shot up his forehead. “You need to tell me what’s been going on,” he said.
And she did. Quickly, before the children returned to the table. She told him about finding Wallace and about him disappearing from her bag and about how she’d found the pink tissue paper outside and about Allie and Chris producing a replacement.
Rick listened carefully, then nodded. “So I’ll go and check her bin. Make sure.”
“Please. I don’t know if I could face it.”
“If it’s him… I’ll pop him home then come back for you.”
He pecked her on the lips, then said something to the children, before leaving the café.
And Dawn sat there with her half-eaten ginger biscuit in her hand and her mug of tea going cold, wondering how she would cope if she ever lost him.
4
The next day, Dawn was peeling potatoes in her mother’s small kitchen. Rick and the children were in the garden playing catch.
“They all seem happy,” Jackie Dix said as she gazed out of the window at Rick and her grandchildren.
“They are. It’s good for them to have some time together.”
“Rick still working late?”
Dawn nodded. “He has a lot on, Mum.”
“I understand that, love.”
Her mother turned to her and Dawn met her green eyes, so much like her own and Camilla’s, yet they carried something within them that told of hard times and disappointment.
“He’s a good man, Mum.”
“I know. But even so, good men can change if their heads get turned.”
“Please don’t.”
Her mother shook her head. “I don’t mean to, Dawn. It’s just…”
“Not everyone is like Dad.”
“Nope. You’re right. I just get scared for you and Camilla… and for my grandchildren. I don’t want to see any of you hurt.”
Dawn bit her tongue. Her mother had a heart of gold but she’d never recovered after her husband’s betrayal. He left when Dawn was eight and Camilla was ten, and now ran a bar in Benidorm with his third wife. Jackie had struggled to bring up her girls, working as a cleaner at several locations and taking in ironing just to make ends meet. Dawn admired her mother for what she’d done but also worried about her, as she’d never got over losing her husband. Although sometimes, it was almost as if she couldn’t allow herself to move on.
“I won’t be. Rick won’t hurt me.”
“I thought the same about your father a long time ago but I was blinded by love and lust. Fool that I was back then. I suspected that he was having an affair but I tried to ignore it. I loved our family life so much and the idea that he would risk it all for a fling was more than I could bear to entertain.” She shook her head. “Then the worst happened. I sometimes think it would have been better if he’d just died. At least he wouldn’t have chosen to leave us all then.”
Dawn’s mouth fell open.
“Oh, love, don’t mind me. Forget I said that.” She rubbed Dawn’s arm. “Anyway, how’re you feeling?”
“Not too bad this morning.” Dawn was glad of the change of topic. “Allie gave me some ginger biscuits and some more of that peppermint cordial and the combination seems to be helping. Here,” she handed her mother the colander of potatoes, “all done.”
“Right, you go outside and play with your husband and children and I’ll finish up here.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Dawn hugged Jackie then went out into the small back garden, her heart heavy with the knowledge of her mother’s pain.
“Another cracking roast, Jackie.” Rick rubbed his belly. “But I think I might have eaten too much.”
“Well that’s a shame as I’ve made Queen of Puddings for dessert.”
“Oh… well I suppose there’s a small space left.” Rick smiled. “What do you say kids?”
“Yessss!” they replied in unison.
Jackie’s desserts were legendary and when she had a chance, she took them to the café parties that Allie held. She wasn’t always able to attend them because of her work, but when she did, people complimented her on her culinary skills. Before her husband had left, Jackie had always seemed to be smiling and baking. She’d been there to greet her daughters when they got home from school, usually with yummy freshly baked treats for them to enjoy and a hot meal that they sat around and ate together. That all changed after her husband had gone and she’d become withdrawn, depressed and irritable – and that was when she was home – because with the hours she had to work, Dawn and Camilla became latch-key kids. It had been hard returning from school to a cold, empty house, with no delicious aromas of cakes, biscuits or cottage pie greeting them. So Dawn knew how awful life could be if a couple split up, for them and for their children. And she had carried the fear of being betrayed and divorced throughout her life. Her mother’s little reminders of how men could leave didn’t help at all, although she understood why Jackie worried. It was natural for a mother to worry, after all.
Jackie got up to take the plates out but Rick held up a hand. “I’ll do this. You and my gorgeous wife have done enough.”
He stacked the dinner plates then carried them from the dining room.
“Laura and James, if you look in the cupboard there, you’ll find the small bowls.” Jackie gestured at the Welsh dresser.
“I’ll go and help Rick. He probably can’t locate the spoons, knowing him.” Dawn got up and went through to the kitchen but Rick wasn’t there. She paused and listened. Perhaps he’d gone to the toilet.
Then she heard the low tones of his voice and looked through the window. He was out there, on his mobile phone, his cheeks flushed as he listened and nodded. She gripped the edge of the sink and watched him. Who was he talking to? He’d agreed not to take calls on a Sunday, as in the past, he’d been called into work on several occasions, and it always hurt Dawn to see him hurrying away when he should be spending time with his family.
He said something sharply, then ended the call and stuffed his mobile back into his pocket. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stared blankly at the fence dividing Jackie’s garden from her neighbour’s. He looked so far away, so removed from the energetic, light-hearted man she’d met all those years ago at university. Back then, they’d had so much fun together. They’d both been young, hopeful, enthusiastic about life and what lay ahead of them, and had sp
ent so many hours talking, planning, sharing their hopes and dreams, making love into the small hours of the morning and collapsing into bed as the dawn light flooded the sky. She’d been certain back then that this was the man for her, that he loved her as much as she loved him and that they’d always be together.
But that was then.
And this was now.
Rick was slipping through her fingers like sand in an egg timer, and she hadn’t the foggiest idea how to stop him.
As Jackie served the Queen of Puddings, Rick clapped his hands together.
“Laura and James, we have a very special announcement!”
The children dragged their eyes from the dessert to look at their parents. Dawn shifted on her chair. Rick took her hand and kissed it.
“You are going to have a little baby sister or brother.”
A tiny line appeared between Laura’s brows. “A baby?”
“Yes. In about five months, give or take a week or two.”
Dawn suppressed a nervous giggle. Rick was always so careful with numbers, even with this news. And perhaps he was right to be. After all, Laura had arrived a week later than her due date and James had arrived two weeks before his. So expected dates of delivery were not necessarily precise, and with the children, they needed to ensure that they weren’t expecting the baby to arrive right on time. Laura had a thing about times anyway, especially since Rick’s working hours had increased again, and she would no doubt mark the baby’s EDD on the rabbit calendar that hung on her bedroom wall and tick off the days as they passed.
“I want a brother.” James nodded as he accepted a bowl of dessert from his nanna.
“You can’t decide what you’re having, James.” Laura scowled at him. “It just happens.”
“But I don’t want a sister.” His bottom lip wobbled. “I have you.”
Laura patted her brother’s hand. “I will always be your sister but you might have another one. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”
“That’s right, sweetheart. So are we pleased?”
Laura nodded and James shrugged, so that would have to do for now. It was a lot for them to take in, but they’d have time now to get used to the idea. Dawn hadn’t wanted to tell them until the pregnancy was well established, because it would have been dreadful if they’d known, then she’d lost the baby. Of course, nothing was 100 per cent certain and things could still go wrong, but she was well past the three-month danger point, and had quite a bump already, so they had to tell them sooner or later. It was getting too hard to hide her belly all the time anyway.
“Here you are, Dawn.”
Her mother handed her a bowl and she took it then gazed at its contents. Growing up, Queen of Puddings had always been one of her favourites with its layers of light fluffy sponge, custard and jam, topped with soft, chewy meringue. But right now, she didn’t fancy it at all.
All she did fancy was cuddling up with her husband and having him stroke her hair as he told her how much he loved her and the children and how he’d never leave them. But he was currently tucking into his dessert, seemingly oblivious to her vulnerability, and blissfully unaware that she’d seen him on his phone outside, lost in conversation with someone who brought a colour to his cheeks that Dawn didn’t think she’d seen in quite some time.
5
Dawn set up the ironing board in the quiet house. Rick had left at six-thirty, as he always did on Monday mornings, and the children were in school. She usually liked this time of day, when she could put the radio on in the sunny kitchen, make a cup of tea and read a magazine or a book, get some chores done or just sit and think.
She’d been out to check on Wallace the second and Lulu, and had found them quietly nibbling on hay, so she’d given them some carrots, changed the water in the bottle that clipped to the front of the hutch, then gone back inside to switch the kettle on. The new Wallace sure was hefty for a guinea pig. She wondered for a moment what had happened to the other little Wallace. She had asked Rick the previous afternoon, and he’d managed to tell her that he’d found Wallace and brought him home, but then they’d been interrupted by Laura and it had slipped her mind. She was suddenly overwhelmed with guilt and concern, and the only way she could ease it was to blame her pregnancy brain and reassure herself that Rick would have put Wallace somewhere safe. Somewhere the cats from the café couldn’t find him, hopefully.
The thermostat on the iron clicked, so she picked a shirt from the ironing pile and slid it over the end of the board. She worked on autopilot: collar, sleeves, side, back, side. She’d done this so many times before that it was automatic, and before she knew it, she’d done four shirts and her tea was getting cold. She poured it down the sink then rinsed the mug.
Something was prickling at her subconscious and she’d been trying to keep it there, out of sight, not wanting to let it surface. But as she gazed at through the kitchen window at the generous garden – where even though it was still warm, the autumnal shades of red, orange and brown dominated – the question shot to the surface like a bubble and popped.
Was her mother right? Was Rick having an affair?
Her hand shot to her mouth. She knew that husbands and wives did cheat; she had her father’s behaviour as a prime example. Plus the media loved to parade gritty stories of celebrity marital problems and affairs at the public all the time. She knew people whose marriages had failed because of it and those who’d stayed together, trying to work things out after one of them had cheated, and often they tried to make it work because of their children. But she had never really believed that it could happen in her own marriage. Not between her and Rick; they loved each other, didn’t they? They had always sworn that they’d never disrespect each other in that way. But had Rick forgotten that as the years passed? Had someone in his busy, flashy, high-flying City job caught his eye and turned his head while his wife sat at home caring for their two children, getting fatter with her third pregnancy? Was Rick fed up with her or did he want to have some fun then come back to her? Could she allow that?
No she bloody well couldn’t.
She took a deep breath. Her thoughts were racing away here and she might be imagining it all. This was Rick she was thinking about. He wouldn’t cheat, surely? Not Rick.
She decided to leave the ironing for a bit and to check her Facebook page – that usually made her feel a bit better when worries rushed in. She could see if there was any news from her friends who’d moved away and from the friends she’d made at university. She retrieved the lightweight laptop that she shared with Rick from the study, then took it back to the kitchen, placed it on the kitchen island and switched it on.
It flickered into life and she was about to click on the Internet symbol when a folder caught her eye.
Rick’s Stuff.
And her mother’s final whispered words from yesterday – the ones she’d uttered into Dawn’s ear, just before they left – came rushing back:
“You should check his emails, Dawnie. Just to be sure. It’s not right that he’s working so late, especially with you being pregnant. I read just last week in one of my magazines that a woman found out her husband was cheating with his secretary – oh the cliché – just from reading his emails. He’d forgotten to close down the account after using the family computer. Check them, then you’ll know if there’s something going on.”
She hovered the mouse over his folder, wondering if she could really do this. It was wrong and she knew that to the bottom of her heart but she also needed to put her mind at rest. And Rick was at work, probably wouldn’t be home until late. If she did this, she could find the much-needed reassurance that she really was being silly.
She opened the folder and found several other blue folders, then clicked on the one labelled Passwords.
Bit daft having your passwords stored on here, Rick.
But then he had so many and was constantly having to change them as he’d forgotten them, so it seemed he’d decided to keep them all in one place. There were probably l
ots of people who did the same thing, in spite of the warnings about cyber security and hackers.
The folder opened and she found a six-page Word document with the names of accounts and the passwords next to them. She scanned down the pages, her heart beating hard and a sour taste filling her mouth. Because she knew this was wrong. Rick obviously didn’t have anything to hide but then he wouldn’t expect her to go snooping. He’d actually told her at one point that he’d made a list of all his accounts, just in case anything ever happened to him and she needed to access them. It would make things easier, he’d said. She’d tried to laugh it off, not wanting to think about the possibility of being without Rick, but he’d been true to his word and ensured that she’d know where everything was if she needed it.
Her eyes stopped on the heading Rick’s email account.
She shouldn’t really, but she could just take a peek then be done with all this worrying.
Before she could overthink it, she clicked on the Internet link and signed into the account with the password.
The first few emails were from the bank and PayPal. The next was from an online sports company that was headed FLASH SALE: 50% off selected lines today only. The next one looked more interesting. More worrying. It was from a Brianna Mandrell and the subject heading was FYEO.
FYEO?
Dawn’s heart raced as she realised what that meant.
For your eyes only.
What the hell?
Her finger shook above the touchpad.
Her mind was screaming at her to stop; it was better not to know.
But…
She had to know.
She opened it.
And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Dawn hurried up the path to The Cosy Cottage Café. She opened the door with such force that she nearly faceplanted onto the welcome mat. She steadied herself then glanced around. Five customers: two women, two male delivery drivers and Fred Bennett, an elderly man from the village who always came to the café on a Monday morning.
A Year at The Cosy Cottage Café: A heart-warming feel-good read about life, love, loss, friendship and second chances Page 14
