by Kitty Wilson
Had Richard entered some kind of parallel universe or something? Was the myth behind science fiction actually proving itself here and now, unravelling the world order here in Penmenna in February?
‘What new business?’ He was fairly sure no one would ever think of Marion as anything other than dynamic and forceful. It had definitely been said, although perhaps not quite so politely.
‘Well, now I’m a single parent…’ Marion sniffed and perched on the other end of the sofa, pulling herself up to her full sitting height as she did so.
‘You’re not a freaking single parent – I’m here. I am right here.’
‘I am actually and I have been for a while. It is rather typical that now as I’m embracing it you decide to turn up in the village mid-week. Always contrary, Richard.’
Richard was many things and, he hoped, a man aware of his flaws. He was fairly sure contrary wasn’t on the list. He decided to change tack.
‘How have you explained changing the locks to them?’
‘A recent spate of burglaries.’ Marion’s lips shot straight back into their pursed expression when she had finished talking, nose still held high in the air. He had to give credit where credit was due. She played wronged wife beautifully.
‘Has there been a recent spate of burglaries?’ he asked, a little alarmed. ‘There hasn’t been one for a few years, and even then we both knew that Rafe had everything that had gone missing stashed in the shed.’
Marion fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. ‘Such a good boy. So kind of him to look after his things for his friend. His worst mistake there was being too loyal to a bad sort.’
‘Oh come on, Marion, it’s me. I am in the circle. I know the truth of our sons.’
‘Not any more you’re not.’
‘Right, okay.’ Richard felt a huge sigh leave his body. He was trying to be reasonable, but easy was definitely not Marion’s middle name. Her feisty fighting spirit which she twinned with an air of insouciance was both contradictory and so goddam appealing. He was so proud that she hadn’t diminished as she aged. If anything, she had become more Marion, although one would never have thought that possible. And he loved her.
‘Look, let’s start again. We have lots to talk about and we need to deal with what is going on here, the important stuff. Maybe just put our egos to one side and try…’
‘I think it was putting our egos in places they shouldn’t be is what got us here in the first place, Richard.’
‘Well, it wasn’t mine! I haven’t done anything I shouldn’t have.’ He was exasperated.
‘It was certainly something of yours, and I find it hard to believe ego wasn’t involved. Albeit not as much as your d—’
‘Marion, please. Let me talk – I think I know what’s going on now. I came home the other day to find Claudia tied to the bed…’
‘Are you joking me? You’re sitting here, expecting me to listen to this? Oh my God Richard! I always thought for all your faults you had a degree of sensitivity and now you’re regaling me with tales of your sexual—’
‘No, no, no, no!’ Maybe that wasn’t the best way to have started what he was trying to say. ‘I realized that on the day you came to the flat…’
‘On our anniversary weekend?’
‘Yes, yes. On our anniversary, I realized that Claudia was present and that she must have said something to you. You know me, Marion, you know me better than any other person on this planet.’ He made a grab for her hand and for a second she let his fingers curl around hers, trying to hide the fact that she had gulped a little. Then she shook her head decisively and pulled her hand away. Richard ploughed on.
‘You know I’m a bit naive, a bit stupid, sometimes too trusting; that’s one of the reasons we are such a good match – you protect me and I soften you. On that day Claudia must have said something to you and I don’t know what it was but recent events have given me an inkling and I promise you, I promise you there is nothing going on.’
Marion turned to him, a tear running down her cheek and he could feel himself beginning to well up, seeing her so upset. His wife, the boldest and bravest of them all was now sitting in front of him upset and he thought it might break him.
This was not something he was used to dealing with. He took his finger to the tear to brush it away and she shook her head again, pushing him off. ‘You can’t believe her over me, Marion, really you can’t.’
* * *
Marion wanted to believe him so desperately, so, so much. To turn the clock back, to go back to the way they were, but she didn’t dare. She was not going to be that woman who forgave her husband time and time again as he shagged all around the country. Safe in the fact that he could so with impunity, confident in his good wife waiting uncomplainingly at home. She would not do that.
She remembered the letters Serena had sent:
Your husband doesn’t come home for a reason.
She remembered the words the woman had spoken when she described the love Claudia had for her husband. No one felt like that about someone without something going on, not unless they were completely unhinged, and Claudia was a very successful hedge-fund manager so she had to be pretty damn stable.
She remembered her mother’s upturned face as she forgave waster after waster.
She remembered Hector, Richard’s best friend, saying over the summer how he had always respected Richard for being faithful for years when, as far as he was concerned, it went against the basic fundamentals of male sexuality. She had pooh-poohed him at the time, pitying him for being of such a mind, of lacking the depth, the maturity of her husband. Maybe Hector knew more about it than she did.
‘I’m sorry, Richard, I don’t believe you. I wish that I could but the facts speak for themselves. If you’re here to tell me that you have evidence that you haven’t done anything wrong then fine, show me. I’ve an awful lot of evidence to suggest that you have.’
‘I don’t know what to say. I’m innocent. I can’t provide evidence of something that didn’t happen, because it didn’t happen! It’s an impossible task. Why… how could you believe her over me? You and me forever, come on.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose.
‘Richard, I want to believe you, I do.’ She paused; everything she was saying was true, absolutely true, and she was crumbling inside knowing that the weaker she felt the stronger she had to appear. ‘But I can’t take the gamble. I haven’t got it in me to go through this another time. We’re done. Done. There is no trust left.’
And with that there wasn’t much more to be said.
Chapter Fifteen
She managed to get him to agree to not tell the children yet – who wanted Valentine’s Day tarnished with memories of their parents announcing their divorce? Talk about impacting future views on romance, and at the moment they were doing quite nicely.
She knew Rufus had taken a teddy bear clutching a heart for Freya in his class today – she knew because she had bought it. She had also paid for Rupert’s vast array of cards – her second son had sent out about ten cards all with a question mark inside; he had always been a boy who liked to hedge his bets. He’d also popped his initials on the back. He figured the smart ones would work it out and approach him, thus cutting out those not capable of critical thought.
She was less sure about Rafe but with the amount of time he had spent with Sophie recently and the moony grins on his face when he walked home afterwards, she was fairly sure he would have prepared something for today.
Richard’s attempt at a present this year was far too little and far too late.
Ooh, Marion could feel her temper rising as she thought of Richard and Claudia and tried to talk herself down. She’d just done her make-up and had needed to slap a little more on than usual, meaning she was a bit Real Housewives, but make-up had been a weapon of hers for some time, providing her with a confidence, a swagger, that she often only faked. She was not leaving the house looking as if she was out of control of anything.
It was a we
ird feeling, driving out of Penmenna. Usually she would be entrenched in the school hall by now, making sure that the Valentine’s dance ran as smoothly as it could and that none of the children were so hyped by being in the school after hours that they were hanging off the climbing bars or walloping each other with rulers – two things it seemed primary school children really liked to do when excited.
It was nerve-wracking leaving it in the care of the other members of the PTA, but this was her life now; she was going to have to step away. Some of these women had been in training for years now. They should be able to cope.
She hoped she had come across as independent and determined, rather than just coping, as she sat next to Richard on the sofa and tried to talk things through, but truth was she had found this meeting difficult. And when he had brought his hand up to wipe her tears away the whole of her had wanted to curl into him, to open herself up and sob it out alongside the one person in this world that had always seen who she was.
It was unfortunate that the one person who had always seen who she was, was the one person who had utterly betrayed her.
It was hard to believe their relationship and thus Marion’s whole life had been blown to bits by this man in front of her, by his actions, by his lies. And for all her fury – and there was fury consuming her, exploding out at times she didn’t need it and then hiding, submissive when it could be really helpful – today she just felt sad. A heart-wrenching sadness that this should have happened to them and their perfect family.
She had had to use all her powers of self-control to not reach out and stroke the crinkle from his brow, not pull him close and murmur into his hair that together they could get through this. The sadness coursed through her as she witnessed the pain and frustration of the man whom she had always helped with any struggles – as he had her – but for her to do so now, for her to comfort him and make everything right, would involve sacrificing herself.
She may have done it for this man, had it just been her. But she wasn’t simply Marion Marksharp wife, she was Marion Marksharp wife and mother. If she forgave the boys’ father now, she would be giving them permission to do the same in the future and there was no way on this green earth that she was going to give her three boys any excuses to grow up into the weak, selfish sort of man that she had despised from childhood. She hadn’t realized at that tender age that things weren’t quite as black and white as she had assumed, that things were more nuanced, but still, she would not have her sons thinking that cheating, along with lies, duplicity and the dishonesty that accompanied it was ever, ever alright.
Step bold, lip firm and eyes determinedly blinked, she left their home and headed over to Chase’s house.
The fact that she had to oversee a wedding proposal now and do so enthusiastically was not an irony that was lost on her.
However, she couldn’t afford to dwell on ironies, or may-have-beens or what-ifs. She had a business to build, three rather large and gaping mouths to feed and feeling sorry for herself was not going to achieve any of that. Hard bloody work, on the other hand, just might.
* * *
Hard bloody work currently involved hiding in the grasses at the top of Chase’s private beach and waiting for her two friends to appear so she could help cement their bond in the most romantic of moments. She supposed she was rather like the Cornish seaside version of Cyrano de Bergerac, only with a tiny microphone, much more attractive nose and no real burning passion for either of the people in the couple she was helping bring together.
She was safely in her place now with the torches lit to create a flaming path down to the barbecue and Bali bed. The bed was strewn with rose petals and long-stemmed roses intertwined around the frame. It looked fabulous.
The table had been set and Jenny had done a fantastic job; even Marion struggled to find a flaw, but then she had spent a whole two days a few years ago trying to teach Jenny about the importance of a perfect place setting. Not everyone was born with the knowledge, Marion knew that better than most. How one got to the age of thirty without understanding that a glass should be clean and the cutlery sparkling, Marion would never know.
The salads were set out and covered, the fish prepped and in a cool box ready to be put straight onto the gas barbecue. The cushions were all at the correct angles and the blankets were folded and draped exactly as Marion had wanted, the checks placed precisely so. Based on this it was impossible to see who was the strongest contender at the moment out of Jenny and Serena; she’d have to hear what was said about the Valentine’s dance and make a decision then.
‘I don’t know why you want me out here, darling, you hate the cold and it’s practically blowing a gale.’ Chase’s American accent carried, thanks to the wind, and Marion ducked down again. It was unlikely that she would be seen, but even though she was here at Angelina’s request, she was aware that hiding in some tall beach grass with a microphone attached to her as she spied upon a couple’s romantic dinner could be considered a little weird. The last thing she needed as she was building up her business was to be outed as Penmenna’s peeping Tom – especially when she had a strong feeling that Mickey, who frequented The Smuggler’s Curse, deserved that title.
‘It’s a Valentine’s surprise, darling… Ta-da!’ From the sounds of it they were now on the beach.
‘Oh wow, I didn’t expect this. Angelina, you are full of surprises.’ Marion could imagine the delight on her friend’s face in response to this; she couldn’t see it because her head was still tucked down and curled into her lap until Chase got settled.
There were some kissy squelching noises – she did hope they wouldn’t be doing a lot of that. Especially as whilst Chase had been looking around at the scene laid out, Angelina had very quickly grabbed her secret earpiece through which Marion could instruct her, and right now the kissing was being amplified far more than any person would ever, ever want.
Chapter Sixteen
The wind was picking up and Marion noted with pleasure that the Bali bed, barbecue and table all had piles of large stones and slates piled up around the legs in an attempt to secure them. The chairs, however, looked as if they were about to take off, and she uttered a quick prayer for the wind to die down.
‘Now, now this is important. Let me light the barbecue.’ Oops, this was the code sentence she and Angelina had discussed. When Ange said this, that would be Marion’s cue to jump in and start feeding her lines. The one advantage to the wind was that it may mask Marion’s whispering into the headpiece. What to say… um… what could you say when two people were gathered together for a romantic moment? Ah, of course!
‘Dearly beloved we are gathered here today…’ she began. Oh shit, that wasn’t a romantic start; that was what vicars said. Must have been all that prayer. Um…
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…’ Angelina parroted.
Oh gosh.
‘Sorry,’ Marion hissed, ‘I was nervous. That’s not what I meant!’
‘Sorry, I was nervous. That’s not what I meant,’ Angelina said gaily, waving around the long barbecue lighter. It wasn’t responding well to the wind.
‘Here, if I shelter you.’ Chase stood to the side of Angelina, blocking the wind and allowing her to successfully light the barbecue. ‘Are you alright?’ He looked at her with both tenderness and a little alarm. ‘You don’t sound very like you.’
‘Now, now this is important,’ Angelina said again desperately, clearly not knowing how to respond to Chase’s question. The woman never normally had trouble speaking – could she not think of something better than that?
‘I’m fine, I’m just excited. Now let me get this fish on the barbecue and we’ll be ready to go,’ Marion hissed into the mic.
Angelina repeated it. Marion didn’t need to be close to know that right now the woman’s face would be scrunched up tighter than a cat’s bottom as she picked the fish out of the cool box and placed it on the barbecue.
‘Now I am worried,’ Chase joked. ‘Have I just
watched you touch fish with your bare hands? Okay, what have you done with my actual girlfriend?’
‘I know, it’s absolutely bloody disgusting. I am never, ever doing that again,’ Angelina spat, forgetting her role for a second and reverting to her actual girlfriend form.
‘But it’s a testament to how much I love you,’ Marion added quickly, leading to Angelina, unusually obedient, saying so.
‘Really?’ said Chase, perplexion clear in his tone.
‘Yes,’ said Marion. ‘It’s two years to the day since we met, thanks to Marion; she’s fabulous, isn’t she? Such great clothes and hair and generally lovely…’ She knew it was naughty but she couldn’t help herself. ‘So I wanted to mark the occasion and make it romantic because it’s Valentine’s Day.’
Angelina repeated Marion’s words, snorting with laughter at the clothes and hair bit before composing herself for the more serious sentiment.
Then Marion watched as Angelina turned and wiped her fishy hands on Chase’s jumper. Marion winced; she knew him well and in all probability any sweater he owned wouldn’t cost less than £300. Mackerel on cashmere was not a particularly Chase look.
‘Oi!’ he objected mildly. Marion’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widening as Chase gathered Angelina into a cuddle and ruffled her hair. Okay, he valued Angelina more than his clothes; that was a sight she never thought she’d see. And boded well for this proposal. ‘Romance does not start with fish guts,’ he chided.
‘I couldn’t agree more, and yet you seemed to think mackerel fishing was a great idea for a first date so I thought I’d return the favour,’ Angelina retorted quick as a flash, her voice a little muffled as she whispered into his fishy jumper.
