by Kitty Wilson
‘Are you finished?’ Marion hissed from behind the door jamb. Jenny let out a scream but only for a second before she put her hand over her mouth.
Serena didn’t even look up.
‘Hello, Marion, yes, pretty much done. We can never have too many hearts.’
‘Excellent, in that case can you delegate all the finishing touches to someone else? If I remember rightly Rosy likes cutting out heart shapes, does a fabulous job. Then come and meet me outside in the school car park for A Very Important Job?’
This did cause Serena to react, placing down her scissors and turning in her chair. ‘Now that, Mrs Marksharp, is something I like the sound of. A job that sounds like an adventure – Jenny?’
‘Yes, yes, of course, Serena, Marion. How long will we be out for?’
‘For goodness’ sake, woman, as long as we need to be. I’ll see you by my car in five.’
Marion marched away, irritation clear in her step. As if Jenny was going to have anything more important to do.
It was becoming increasingly clear to her that Jenny, despite having been groomed for the top dog role for the last few years, just wasn’t going to make the grade. Jenny was good at barking out instructions when given permission to do so, fixing people (other than Marion) with forceful stares and collecting money. But leadership skills, they were something very definitely lacking.
Serena was shaping up to be far more interesting.
By rights Marion should hate her vehemently. Serena had committed heinous crimes against her. But Marion had learnt a thing or two over the past few years and was trying to apply it to life. Especially now she had learnt that everything could turn upside down in a fraction of a second.
She had never been a woman with many friends, certainly not female friends – either at school or university. She had always been drawn to men, enjoying their humour. Men were easier to understand; there seemed to be fewer complex codes shooting between them. If they liked you, they liked you, and if they didn’t then they didn’t bother. There was little of the covert one-upmanship that she associated with women. Men just bought bigger watches or cars if they had something to prove. Women were far more nuanced: they would pretend to be your friend and stab you in the back. Claudia being a perfect example.
Being involved in Penmenna School had taught her something about friendship, how it was formed over time and over events shared – ooh, she’d have to use that in her marketing. Everyone had different skills and brought something else to the table; the female friendships she’d seen here were collaborative and supportive, undermining the assumptions she had made before.
Some of the women working at the school had started to pierce her armour – she liked Rosy, respected Sylvie and had learnt that Alice was far more gutsy than she had given her credit for. And whilst she was still firm in the knowledge that she was the most efficient, and probably the smartest of them all, she now appreciated there were many ways to success that didn’t necessarily include having the loudest bark.
Not everything was black and white, and Serena was a great example of that. At first glance Serena looked perfect. A deeper look revealed considerably more. Marion knew that Serena was insecure in her standing in the village as a relative newcomer but was willing to sacrifice her own reputation to ensure her child got the best care and education. Playgroup had labelled her a troublemaker and Marion knew from experience that didn’t happen unless you were prepared to do battle.
If you applied those principles deeper – for Serena, Marion had – and looked at the poison pen letters Serena sent last year, a first glance would reveal someone who gained pleasure from inflicting pain. But at second glance those letters showed a woman who had placed loyalty to an old friend over doing what she thought was right.
Marion could understand loyalty.
What you saw with Serena wasn’t necessarily what you got. And even better, the woman had sass. She did her duty and did it well, efficiently and with a smile but baring her teeth when required. Marion liked that. She wanted to know more. And today she was going to.
Chapter Thirteen
‘We’ve got an awful lot to do,’ Marion informed Serena as she sat in the car beside her. Jenny had been given the keys to the van and told to meet them at Chase and Angelina’s. Jenny had been to the hard-to-find house before when Marion had staged a massive Valentine’s party when Chase moved to Cornwall two years ago. She’d been harping on about a repeat invitation ever since. So now she had one, albeit only in the capacity as Marion’s helper – the event she was planning for tonight was only for an audience of two.
And it was going to take a lot of help.
‘Then it might be useful if we get there alive,’ Serena retorted as she clasped the dashboard. ‘Seriously, Marion, slow down.’
‘It’s quite alright, dear. I do know these lanes like the back of my hand.’
‘Yes but whatever is coming the other way may not. And I don’t think 60 mph is a sensible— arggghh…’ She paused, closed her eyes and let out a long sigh as Marion sped around a hairpin bend. ‘…sensible way of driving down them.’ Her voice got louder, and faster, as the sentence continued. ‘Seriously, has no one ever told you this before? I swear I’m going to make you stop this car and get out and walk… oh my God, brace, brace!’ Serena’s right arm flashed out in front of Marion – that age-old trick of mothers across the world when in a car and sensing imminent danger – as a tractor suddenly came from a side road.
‘I never had you down for a wuss,’ Marion countered as she hit the horn heavily in fury.
Eventually, Marion turned into the driveway that led to Chase’s house. Serena’s mouth dropped and her eyes widened as they drove down the long, long driveway, pulling into a traditional half-moon gravelled entrance in front of an exceptionally modern, large building that screamed wealth, exclusivity and status. Three of Marion’s favourite screams.
‘Right, let’s get out, chip chop. We’ve got an awful lot to do and not much time. Ah, Jenny, good of you to join us. Serena, do close your mouth, I know it’s very grand but you’d better get used to it. You’re in the A-Team now.’
Serena raised an eyebrow at Marion but couldn’t help herself. ‘I do love it when a plan comes together.’
‘I’m Hannibal, dear, you can be… um… any of the others. If you both make a start unloading the van, I shall go and find the client.’
‘The client?’ Serena asked. ‘Is this not school stuff?’
‘Ho ho, dear, oh no, we’ve left that with the other ladies. You two have been specially selected to help me today, me and my very special celebrity friend. I haven’t had a chance to tell everybody so I would appreciate if you didn’t just yet, but you see standing before you Marion Marksharp, Cornwall’s latest business mogul and premier events manager.’ She flexed her muscles and giggled. This was all so exciting.
‘So not school stuff then?’ Serena did not look pleased or particularly excited, folding her arms and cocking her head to one side.
‘Oh, how exciting, Marion, of course I always knew you’d be brilliant in business. What are we doing?’ Jenny, on the other hand, was reacting properly, jumping up and down on the spot and clapping her hands. A little bit like a seal that perhaps wasn’t as bright as his brothers, but suitably enthusiastic nonetheless.
‘Thank you, Jenny dear, you’ve always been so loyal.’ The blonde woman puffed up with the praise. It was a rare occurrence.
Serena arched an eyebrow. Marion decided to ignore her surliness; some women didn’t appreciate an opportunity when it was presented. Such a shame – if only she could somehow meld the two women together then she would have the perfect person to take over her PTA crown when she retired.
She directed the women to unload the things from the van and pointed out the entrance to the winding path down to the beach, hidden in the shrubbery, before running in to check that Angelina was still keen on the plan. She was, although making a dreadful fuss about the importance of having h
er hair exactly so. Whilst Marion attached huge import to personal grooming, she was finding Angelina particularly irritating today. Although she supposed it must be quite a nice thing to be so secure that the only concern you had when you were about to propose was that your fringe wasn’t sitting right.
With her client suitably reassured, Marion headed back to join Serena and Jenny to make sure everything was set up perfectly for the evening.
It was as she was on the beach, the wind building up and whipping around their heads, amplifying the tang of seaweed and the squawk of seagulls, that her ringtone pierced the air. She saw Richard flash up again, his brown eyes and slightly hapless look filling the large screen. This face had so endeared him to her when they first met; he always looked as if he needed rescuing when the truth was he had been her rescuer.
Hold on, him? Your brain and hard work! You didn’t just pitch up at Oxford because of chance; you worked hard. She needed to change the narrative here. As much as she liked the idea of teenage Marion being rescued by her very own Prince Charming, it wasn’t strictly accurate and if she was going to feel a pang of heartache every time his picture flashed up on this screen then she needed to change that as well – maybe to a picture of someone drowning kittens or socks with sandals, something that would repulse her every time he rang.
‘What?’
‘Marion, darling…’
‘Don’t darling me.’
Richard sighed. ‘Look, I’m standing outside the house, the keys aren’t working. For a second or two I doubted myself, but you’ve changed the locks. Changed the locks to my home, Marion. That’s harsh. I wanted to be here to see the boys when they got in; I’ve got some good news to share. News that might change everything.’
‘Pfft. Of course I’ve changed the locks, and unless your news is that you’ve dipped your willy in so much TCP that it has dropped off, I don’t want to hear it, and even then you still wouldn’t be getting a key. You have your love nest in London. Why on earth would I let you see the boys?’
‘Because they’re my children. Honestly, Marion, if I thought a quick TCP wash was the solution then I’d happily bathe in the stuff, drink it even. But I know you’re going to want more than basic-level torture so let’s talk…’
She fought to keep the smile that was playing at the corner of her mouth at bay. He was right. There wasn’t a single soul in the world that knew her as well as he did – knew her, understood her, and celebrated it. She drew on all her self-control to stay silent because if she spoke, teased as she wanted to, he would hear the smirk and recognize it as a chink in her armour.
Richard continued, ‘We’re both adults, we want the best for the boys and that means doing this civilly. Could you come and let me in? Please.’
Marion wasn’t a complete monster. He was the boys’ parent too; they loved him. She was a big believer that her relationship with Richard would set the tone for the boys’ formations of relationships later in life. Plus, she needed someone to sit with them tonight whilst she helped Angelina with her proposal. But if he thought he was back in and sharing her bed then that wasn’t happening. Not a chance.
‘Right, yes. Give me an hour…’ She looked at Jenny, who was winding red roses around the Bali bed that Chase and Angelina had on the beach. ‘Give me an hour and a half and I’ll meet you and we can talk. And if you want you can see the boys this evening, I won’t be in anyway – I have a very romantic evening planned…’ She said the last bit airily; no harm in making him think that she was an international woman of mystery. It was going to be very romantic so it wasn’t a lie-lie. ‘But you cannot, absolutely not stay there. I am finding this difficult enough; it’s been very traumatic for me and we need to talk things out and you moving back in and acting as if nothing has happened will not help either of us long term.’
‘But nothing did happen! I never moved out!’ The exasperation was clear in Richard’s tone. ‘It’s my home…’ She heard his deep breath and knew he would now centre himself; he was not a fan of emotional outbursts and this phone call was enough to finish him off. ‘It’s okay, I’ll ask Chase if I can stay for a few nights.’
‘No!’ Marion squeaked. ‘No, you absolutely cannot stay with Chase.’ Trust Richard to come back to Penmenna after all these months away and immediately throw a spanner in the works of her new business. ‘You’ll have to stay with Alex, just for tonight.’ She changed her tone. Barking at him wasn’t going to work as effectively. If she wheedled he’d be more receptive; he’d think it reflected a softening. ‘Please, ask Alex, just for this evening.’
‘Okay, and I’ll see you at home in an hour and a half, spend the evening with the boys and tell them a bit about what is going on. They must be so confused.’
Marion thought they probably hadn’t noticed much of a difference – Richard had been absent and she had been doing all the work. Fairly standard. The boys would need to be told, when it was appropriate. Today was not that day.
‘Yes, we can talk, that sounds sensible. I’ll…’ She was about to say look forward to it, but it wasn’t true, so she stopped the words in time. ‘Um, I’ll be there. Goodbye, Richard.’ She pressed the red icon, ending the call, but there was a poignancy to the Goodbye, Richard that threatened to overwhelm her if she didn’t get control of it very soon indeed.
She closed her eyes and counted to three. She could do this. She could do all of this; she was Marion Marksharp.
Opening her eyes, she saw that Jenny had got all the roses at the wrong angle – dear Lord, help her. She was working with imbeciles. ‘Jenny White, what on earth do you think you’re doing? Were you really born this stupid or does your brain just leak out of your ears in small increments? Perhaps if I attached a bowl each side like earmuffs we could keep the bulk of it in, hmmm? Hmmm?’
Chapter Fourteen
Richard stood outside of the house feeling a bit of a fool. He quite literally didn’t know where to put his hands and feet to look as if it were perfectly natural for him to be waiting outside his house for his wife to let him in. Even the pint he had just sunk in The Smuggler’s Curse wasn’t making this any easier, although it had been good to catch up with Alex and Chase.
Both had been in the village when he messaged them, and as luck would have it both were together at Alex’s house looking at this year’s fundraising plans for Alex’s foundation in South Sudan and how they could best support everyone as the country struggled with a huge influx of locusts. Both were very happy to break and join him in the pub for a quick pint.
There had been a tricky bit when the assumption was he was back to take Marion out for Valentine’s Day, and he had not only had to correct it but tell them he was booked into a hotel in Treporth Bay and that he would be spending his evening with the boys as Marion would be out doing something else that she had disclosed was romantic and very definitely didn’t involve him. When Marion had spoken to him on the phone he realized that he couldn’t really stay with either Chase or Alex tonight because of the day it was.
There was only one thing worse when your marriage was disintegrating in front of your eyes and that was spending time with people who were still madly loved up, which both of his friends currently were. Alex he could understand: he was bowled over by Sylvie, who worked at the school, an ex-ballerina; she was pixie-like but had a strength to her that belied her tiny stature and wispy red curls. But Chase’s girlfriend was a nightmare, and Richard was used to high maintenance. Each to their own and all, but still. Watching either couple this evening would be horrible – feeling like a spare wheel and wishing he was curled around Marion, revelling in their crisp white sheets and smugness of a relationship that spanned twenty years.
But now he was here on the doorstep and she was not.
Just as he was thinking this, he saw her car pull up, careering around the corner in that terrifying way Marion had of driving when she didn’t have the boys in the car.
‘Had to drop Serena off.’
‘I thought you hated S
erena?’ Richard was puzzled as she stood in front of him, her body angled away so he couldn’t make any kind of move to greet her, give a cuddle or even a chaste peck on the cheek.
‘Well it turned out she knew more than I did. Lots of things aren’t as they were, Richard,’ Marion muttered at him darkly as she held the door open. ‘I suppose you had better come in.’
As they walked into the living room the dog came bounding out and nearly knocked him over as he jumped up, placing both paws on his shoulders and trying to lick his face.
‘Get down, Darcy.’ He laughed. ‘So good to see you.’
‘He thinks you’ve got food. Get down now,’ Marion said dismissively, before using her sternest voice on the dog, who slunk down and lay at Richard’s feet instead, fixing him with mournful eyes as if to say please come back and rescue me.
Richard wondered if he should just slink down and lie on the floor as well until Marion forgave him.
‘Right, do take a seat.’ She gestured towards the sofa and used her most formal tone. He knew Marion. He knew the barkier she got the more insecure she was feeling. He gave the dog a ruffle on its head and then held his hand out to Marion, a let’s-just-stop-all-of-this-right-now gesture. A plea. She ignored his outstretched hand and gestured briskly at the sofa instead.
He decided his best bet was to play along. He thanked her and perched on the edge of the seat and fiddled with his glasses.
‘Aren’t the boys going to think it’s a bit weird that we’re not spending tonight together, that I’m with them and you’re out?’
‘Nope, not at all. Rupert and Rufus will be at the school disco until seven o’clock and will be far more concerned about whether they can get Sarah to break the no more than ten sweets per child rule.’
‘And Rafe?’
‘Rafe is almost a teenager, in case you had forgotten; he doesn’t think of anyone other than Sophie White at the moment. They know I have a new business to run and won’t be at home as much as I was for them. They’re fine with that. It’s important to show them that women are dynamic, forceful innovators in the workplace and not limited to being stay-at-home mothers.’
