Donna closed her eyes, thanking God she hadn’t got carried away and dragged Mark up there. ‘Quick,’ she beckoned him in, leaving the door on the latch.
Simon darted upstairs whilst Donna hovered nervously in the hall.
‘Donna, I can’t find my cap,’ Simon called. ‘Any ideas?’
‘Dressing table, right-hand side.’
‘Nope, not there.’
Hell. Donna flew up the stairs.
‘Got it,’ Simon announced, dragging the cap from under the dressing table and promptly plopping it on the bed.
‘Noooo! Not on the bed.’ Donna dashed over to snatch it up. Hats on beds were terribly bad luck, didn’t he real…?
‘Donna?’
Oh, God. Donna’s heart stopped dead.
She turned around, trepidation snaking its way icily down her spine.
Mark dragged confused eyes slowly from Donna, to a still-uniformed Simon. ‘Jody was texting me to say there was no rush, so I, er…’ Mark stopped, his gaze now fixed on the one silly fishnet dangling from the edge of the bed.
He looked back to Donna, trailing his eyes from the top of her boots, to the too-short hem of her dress, to her breasts; then to her face, his own face a kaleidoscope of emotion, from disbelief through fury to contempt.
Donna stepped towards him. ‘Mark, I…’
Mark stepped back, the look in his eye freezing the words on her lips. ‘Not bad, is she?’ he addressed Simon calmly, who stood immobile and apprehensive.
‘It’s not how it…’ Simon faltered. ‘We weren’t…’
‘Right little goer, in fact,’ Mark cut him short.
Donna’s heart flipped in her chest. ‘Mark, it’s not what you…’
‘But, you know, I’m thinking she might be right,’ Mark went on angrily, ‘not on the bed, sunshine, because if you do, I might just have to break your neck.’
‘He forgot… his… coat,’ Donna stuttered.
‘Now there’s a coincidence.’ Mark sneered sarcastically.
‘Simon, tell him!’ Donna beseeched.
Simon though, under Mark’s unwavering glare, was apparently dumbstruck.
‘Mark, for God’s sake, he’s gay! You met him in the pub.’
‘Right,’ Mark laughed contemptuously. ‘So, not your brother, rather your sister?’
‘No.’ Donna shook her head hopelessly. ‘Please listen, Mark. I can’t explain if you…’
‘No explanations necessary, Donna,’ Mark assured her, an angry tic going at his cheek. ‘Gay, bi-sexual, whatever. It really doesn’t bother me what sort of perverse erotica does it for either of you.’
Donna’s stomach turned over. ‘Mark, don’t, please. I…’
‘Oh, and I obviously forgot something else, didn’t I?’ Mark dragged disgusted eyes away from her, pulled out his wallet and tossed two twenty pound notes at her feet. I’m assuming you’re not charging full price as we didn’t have full sex?’
Donna stared at him, stunned.
‘Maybe I’ll ring and make another appointment.’ Mark broke the palpable silence. ‘Maybe not. Oh, the dress suits you, by the way. Very appropriate.’
He ran a hand across his neck and turned away.
‘Look,’ Simon found the use of his voice and went after him, ‘I know how it looks, but…’
Mark swung around, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side, pure murder in his eyes. ‘Get out of my face,’ he seethed, ‘before I’m tempted to do something I might well regret.’
‘Mark, don’t!’ Donna placed herself bodily between them, her heart racing. ‘You’re acting like a child. Let Simon…’
She stopped, flinching as Mark raised his hand; to rake it through his hair in that demonstrative way he had, she realised that immediately, but Simon’s reaction, born of some protective instinct, was to lurch forward and grab Mark’s arm.
He might as well have stung him with a cattle prod. The next few seconds flashed by in fast-forward. Something snapped in Mark’s eyes. In one swift movement, he reached over Donna and clutched at Simon’s collar. Simon backed off, stumbled and fell.
‘Stop it!’ Donna screamed, and pushed Mark away, hard. ‘Stop it! He’s been in the hospital, for God’s sake!’
Bewildered, she turned away to help poor Simon to his feet and seat him shakily on the edge of the bed. Then, furious, she turned back to Mark.
‘You’re no better than Jeremy.’ She looked him up and down, appalled. ‘Get out.’
Mark didn’t budge.
‘I said, get out, Mark. Go!’
Ashen-faced, Mark moved hesitantly towards her. ‘Donna, I… Is he all right? Christ, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean — ‘
‘Don’t bother, Mark.’ Donna glared at him. ‘Just go, will you.’
****
Donna tried to see things through Mark’s eyes as she held the silly dress against her in front of the mirror. Oh, God, it was short. Far too short to be flaunting herself in front of another man in — in her bedroom. How else could it have looked to Mark than how it did? She cringed inside, picturing the scene.
As for the rest of her… Donna looked herself over and groaned. She’d slept so fitfully, her hair had died of fright in the night. It was vertical. All she needed now was a blue rinse and she could go to the party as Marge-flipping-Simpson. Her complexion wasn’t up to much either, not so much pale, as grey, apart from a teeny triangle of blusher.
Did she care, she asked herself. Yes, was the short answer. After Mark’s onslaught of insults last night, Donna would quite like to find one or two redeeming features, tonight being party night, to which she’d absolutely had to go, for Simon’s sake. Right now, she looked like an extra from Dawn of the Dead and her only redeeming features were her retro-sixties earrings, which she’d gone to bed in.
What she needed was an outfit that would disguise her haggard bits and enhance her good bits. A sheet, she mused, with peepholes?
He’d had no problem with the length of her dress when he’d slid his hands up her thighs though, had he? Her tummy flipped and dived.
No, it wasn’t about the dress, she realised despondently. Mark’s problem had been jealousy, which was surely an indication of his true temperament. Whatever he saw, whatever he thought he saw. Whatever erotica he thought she was into — a word she’d have to look up in the dictionary to know where to start, there were no excuses for violence. And Simon, a kind, considerate man, had been on the receiving end of that violence.
‘Cooee,’ came a familiar voice outside the bedroom door, ‘only me. Are you decent?’
‘No,’ Donna replied glumly.
Simon came in anyway. ‘Oh, dear, no you’re not, are you?’ He came across the room to peer at her at close quarters. ‘Ye Gods, woman, you look dreadful. You’ll be scaring the guests away.’
‘Thank you, Simon. Most considerate.’
‘Come on.’ He sighed, plucked the dress from her grasp and tossed it aside. ‘Evelyn and Alicia are downstairs, ready to give you moral support and a makeover.’
‘Oh, goody.’ Donna eyed her bed longingly, as Simon hustled her past it.
The bush drums had obviously been beating then, Simon no doubt having rung Alicia, Alicia then straight on the phone to Mother with hot-gossip.
‘Make way.’ Simon flapped a hand as they met Matt on the landing. ‘Relationship casualty in need of urgent girl-talk.
‘Ooh, I like that.’ He stopped to peruse Matt’s tee shirt, emblazoned Weapon of Mass Destraction, his casualty carelessly abandoned behind him. ‘Recent purchase?’ he asked, hopefully.
‘Internet,’ Matt informed him, bending to heave little Jack into his arms, who hero-worshipped Matt wherever he went. ‘I’ll email you the addy.’
‘You’re an angel.’ Simon beamed, and turned back to pluck up Donna’s hand. ‘Come on then, sweetie, let’s get you psychoanalysed and sorted,’ he said, heading purposefully onwards.
‘Ping,’ said Donna, indicating Matt’s shining halo as she wa
s dragged past him.
Matt glanced at the ceiling. ‘Taking Jack into Protective Custody,’ he said, heading for his bedroom and PC-play heaven in delighted Jack’s eyes.
‘An absolute angel.’ Donna blinked gratefully over her shoulder, then almost slid down the stairs after Simon.
‘Here she is,’ Simon announced, leading her into the lounge. ‘Make yourself comfy, Dons,’ he said, oblivious to the fact that Donna lived there. ‘I’ll go and make some espresso with a little dash of hair o’ the dog. That’ll put the colour back in your cheeks.’
Donna wasn’t sure she wanted any more colour in her cheeks. She flushed furiously as Evelyn flew out of her recliner and immediately demanded, ‘What did that despicable man do to you, my darling?’ as if Mark had broken the lock on her chastity belt.
‘More to the point,’ Alicia unfurled her feet from the sofa and patted the seat next to her, ‘how did he do?’
‘Alicia, behave,’ Evelyn gave her a no-nonsense look. ‘Donna’s been through a trauma.’
‘Trauma?’ Alicia sat back with a smirk. ‘Snogging a gorgeous policeman? I don’t think so.’
Donna blinked. ‘How do you know I?’
Simon poked his head back around the door. ‘Sorry, Dons,’ he said sheepishly, ‘but you know what Alicia’s like, she wanted chapter and verse – and obviously I couldn’t help but see,’ he waved a finger at the window ‘… a bit, when I climbed down from the bedroom.’
Evelyn looked to the window, then to Donna, one plucked eyebrow raised archly. ‘So, you were kissing Mark in the lounge, while Simon was up in the bedroom?’
‘Snogging,’ Alicia offered, sitting up to attention now. ‘Heavily. Tongues and hands.’
‘Yes, but Simon’s no threat to anyone, is he?’ Donna pointed out, blushing now to the tips of her ears. ‘Especially dead,’ she added, with a scowl.
‘And then Mark caught you both together up there, semi-clothed?’ Evelyn asked, incredulous.
‘Donna was semi,’ Simon supplied informatively, swinging back in with the espresso-laden tray. ‘I was suited and booted in Mark’s spare uniform.’
Evelyn, normally unflappable, came over all faint and willowy. ‘Well,’ she said, sinking down next to Alicia, ‘no wonder the poor man lost his temper.’
She looked at Donna, astonished. As did Alicia.
Donna laughed, flabbergasted. What was this? A trial? Her trial? ‘Excuse me,’ she huffed, indignantly, ‘but would you like to explain why you’re all looking at me as if I’ve been caught posing in the Centrefold of Playgirl?’
‘Er, that would be Playboy, Donna,’ Simon ventured.
Donna glared at him.
‘It’s just that Playgirl is… Well, it’s where you’ll find men on the centre…’
‘Shut up, Simon!’
Simon dutifully zipped his lips.
Donna turned her glare back to her mother and sister. ‘Now then, first of all, the only reason I was semi-dressed was because I was trying on my fancy-dress. Secondly, if anyone here is a poor man, it’s Simon.’ Donna got into the role and pointed at him, deciding if she were on trial, she better blooming well defend herself.
Simon, bless his socks, took his cue and nodded sadly.
‘He was the one on the receiving end of violent behaviour. Mark was the one dishing it out, so why on earth does everyone seem to be leaping to his defence?’
‘In his defence though, Donna, he did find us in a rather compromising position,’ Simon pointed out.
‘But we weren’t doing anything!’ Donna countered, despairingly.
‘That’s not quite how it would have looked from Mark’s point of view, Sweetie, me in his jacket, both of us in the bedroom, your fishnets discarded willy-nilly.’
‘Fishnets!? Ooh, well done, Donna.’ Alicia looked mightily pleased for her.
Evelyn looked mortified. ‘With go-go boots and a mini dress.’ She pressed a hand to her brow. ‘Oh, Donna, Donna, where is your fashion sense?’
‘I’m not sure.’ On the basis that she couldn’t afford to follow fashion, Donna felt a bit miffed. ‘I think I left it in the charity shop.’
Wondering whose side her mum actually was on, Donna turned back to Simon. ‘Simon, I don’t like to point out the hole in your defence of your attacker, but you’re gay, remember?’
‘Mark didn’t know that though, did he?’ Simon paused to pluck up Findus, who’d hopped into the lounge in search of tasty laces. ‘We didn’t actually converse in the pub, did we, and I don’t wear a sign around my neck, Donna.’
‘Well, there you are, then.’ Evelyn said, helping herself to coffee and biscuits. ‘Mark had very good cause, I’d say.’
Mark’s side then. Donna stared at her mum disbelieving, who had a ladylike nibble of her biscuit, and completely missed the point. ‘Good cause?! He lost his temper, Mum! Hit first and asked questions later. And even if he had asked and didn’t like the answers, he did not have good cause for violence.’
Donna’s cheeks were blazing now. She was close to losing her temper. Could they not see? There was no excuse for hitting out like that. For saying the dreadful things he had.
‘Donna, I know you’ve reason to be upset, sweetie,’ Simon ventured, ‘but I think most people would be inclined to lose it a bit if they found their loved one practically in bed with someone else, don’t you think?’
Donna shook her head. Yes, they would, probably, but… Mark didn’t know her. If he did, he’d know that that just wasn’t her.
‘I’d certainly lose it,’ Alicia put in. ‘I’d boil his bunny and serve it up in a pie.’
‘There’s also one small detail you might be overlooking, Dons,’ Simon said, from where he was seated in the armchair, his hands placed sensitively over Findus’ bunny ears ‘I grabbed Mark’s arm first, didn’t I? So, if Mark’s a condemned man, I suppose I should be hung along with him.’ He smiled sympathetically and offered her a chocolate biscuit.
****
‘He checks on his father most days, you know?’ Evelyn remarked ever-so-casually to Simon on the way out. ‘A lot of men wouldn’t. And then, there’s his little boy, of course, whom he obviously adores. Such a caring man.’
Evelyn sighed expansively and glanced over her shoulder at Donna.
Simon sighed too and placed a hand on his heart, which was obviously all aflutter.
‘What are they, a double act?’ Donna whispered to Alicia, as they followed them up the hall.
‘They’re just looking out for you, hon,’ Alicia smiled reassuringly.
‘I know.’ Donna smiled wanly back, but wished they wouldn’t.
‘I think Donna could do a lot worse.’ Evelyn reached for her coat.
‘Well, just between you and me, so do I.’ Simon nodded sagely as he reached for his sou’wester.
‘Simon…’ Donna gave him a despairing glance.
‘What?’ Simon saucered innocent eyes. ‘Can I help it if I’d rather have been caught in flagrante with your boyfriend, than you?’
Donna blushed, furiously.
‘Ring him, Dons.’ Simon gave her shoulders a quick squeeze. ‘He’s scrummy, and he’s nice with it. You know he is. Give him a chance.’
‘Do you want me to speak to him?’ Evelyn asked, tugging on her coat. ‘I’m round at Dot’s tomorrow. He usually calls on Robert on Sunday evenings.’
Robert now, was it? Donna arched an eyebrow. It wasn’t so long ago that the man had nil intellect and Neanderthal manners: Mark’s father. She hadn’t even met him.
‘Mum, if I want Mark spoken to, I’ll speak to him.’ Which she probably wouldn’t, Donna suspected, because she doubted Mark would climb down off his moral high horse and speak to her.
‘Well, just give me a ring in the morning, if you…’
‘Mum! I’m a big girl now. I have a big son to prove it. I can fight my own battles.’
Evelyn looked crestfallen. ‘I know,’ she conceded, ‘but once a mum… Ring me anyway.’
&nb
sp; Evelyn headed for the door, then stopped, and turned back. ‘I don’t mean to fight your battles for you, Donna.’
Simon loitered, not sure whether to get on his bike or not.
‘See you later,’ Alicia mouthed and steered him on.
Evelyn glanced at the door, once it was closed. ‘It’s just… Well, I know, you don’t want to be like me, Donna, seeing everything as a crusade, even relationships.’
Oh, Lord. Donna glanced guiltily down. Now she’d gone and upset her mum, too.
‘The thing is though, darling, I’ve had to fight — most my life, really. Not to be defined by society. Not to be defined by the men in my life. I didn’t want my daughters to be stifled in the same way.’
‘Mum, I…’ Donna started, feeling awful now. Her mum had always done her absolute best, even with no support from her husband.
Evelyn held up a silencing hand. ‘I’m just trying to say I’m beginning to realise a bit of give and take might sometimes be in order. Your Mark has had a small part to play in that. I’m sorry,’ she said, as Donna glanced down again, ‘but I thought it should be said.’
‘As for you,’ Evelyn did what Mark did then, eased Donna’s chin back up, ‘I can see you know what you want in a man. You’ll make your own decisions. Just don’t make hasty ones based on bad experience, hmm?’
Donna nodded, then gave Evelyn a huge hug. ‘I won’t,’ she promised. ‘And I’m quite proud to have a mum who cares enough to want to fight people’s battles, actually.’
‘So long as I don’t do so stridently sometimes,’ Evelyn guessed. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ve promised to look in on Robert. Lord knows why. I have to remind him who I am half the time. And then he’ll probably insult me. Do you know what he offered me the other day? Iced buns.’
Donna crinkled her much-furrowed brow as Evelyn turned for the door.
‘Said I could be his Calendar Girl anytime. I mean, do I look like Helen Mirren?’
Donna hesitated. ‘Um, now you come to mention…’
‘Honestly, men.’
‘They’re all the same,’ Donna finished, smirking as Evelyn’s walk developed a definite wiggle.
Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. Page 22
