‘Look,’ said Matt, ‘you’re clearly in a pickle. Let me get some caffeine into my veins and then I’ll drive you home.’
‘I live in North London,’ Rosie sniffed. ‘It’s not exactly round the corner.’
‘It’s not the other end of the country either,’ said Matt.
‘Okay.’ She was aware she didn’t sound very grateful. ‘Thanks,’ she added. ‘Do you have a bathroom I could use?’
‘To your left,’ said Matt. ‘I’ll grab that coffee.’
Rosie flicked a switch and pushed her way into the bathroom. She gasped. It was the size of her lounge. One wall was mirrored. For a moment Rosie failed to recognise the stricken blonde that stared back at her. Chalk white face. Black shadows under troubled grey eyes. She had a feeling those eyes would look a good deal more troubled before the day was done. Of one thing she was sure. Her old life was over. A new start was imminent. Whether she liked it or not.
Debbie is currently adapting this story and re-working it as a novel. Watch out for ‘The Perfect Marriage’ to see what happens to Rosie!
BETRAYAL
‘Well I’ve definitely caught him out this time Jennie.’ I hurled the evidence across the kitchen table. My aim, never good, meant the bra abseiled into Jennie’s coffee.
‘Calm down Poppy,’ she fished a black strap out of her mug.
‘Bitch!’
‘What?’ Jennie looked startled.
‘The bra’s owner. She’s a bitch. A slapper. Whore!’ I warmed to my subject.
‘Right.’ Jennie held the bra up. ‘Big girl isn’t she?’
‘That’s an understatement. Whoever owns that bra is in danger of giving herself a black eye.’ I snatched the offending article from my best friend.
‘Thanks very much,’ she said tartly. ‘We can’t all be small and perfectly formed like you Poppy.’ Jennie stared in dismay at her own burgeoning bosom.
I dangled the lacy hammock between forefinger and thumb, as if a piece of dog turd. My lip curled. ‘She must have an IQ the same size as her bust measurement.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Because nobody intelligent would have left their lingerie lying around for wifey to find. Oh no! Not content with shagging my husband, Mrs Big Tits violates my private space and SHAGS HIM IN THE MARITAL BED!’ My own chest, a perky 34B, heaved from the exertion of shouting. I glared at Jennie furiously. She gazed back at me, wide eyed. ‘Sorry,’ I muttered. I dropped the offending garment. Put my hands to my temples. Massaged vigorously.
‘Poppy, why don’t you have a calm chat with Bill. There might be a perfectly innocent explanation.’
‘Really?’
‘Really!’
‘You mean,’ my brow knitted, ‘like Bill might not be shagging a Katie Price wannabe because, oh I see, he’s a cross-dresser. Like Alex Reid. A closet tranny hmm?’
Jennie swallowed a mouthful of coffee. ‘Well it’s possible.’
‘Oh give over.’
‘You’re a stay-at-home Mum,’ Jennie pointed out, ‘which isn’t conducive to bringing a mistress home. How’s Bill going to smuggle her in? “Oh hello darling, this is Fifi. We’re just popping upstairs for a bit of how’s-your-father. Carry on with the ironing. We’ll keep the noise down.” It’s just not possible.’
‘Ah but I was away at the weekend. Great Granny Elsie wanted to see Clemmie. Elsie is almost ready to collect the Queen’s telegram. Each time I see her there’s a part of me that worries it will be for the last time. So I never say no to her.’
‘Well I still can’t believe Bill would bring somebody here.’
‘I can. And here’s the evidence.’ I prodded the bra. ‘I wonder who she is. Christ, what if I know her?’
What a horrifying thought. I took a sip of coffee. Was it too early in the afternoon to add a slug of gin? My eyes flicked to the clock on the kitchen wall. Nearly time for the school run. It wouldn’t do to turn up at the school gates breathing Mother’s Ruin over Miss Peters. Miss Peters who bore a strong resemblance to Katie Price. Miss Peters, I tensed, who had a chest the size of an unmilked cow.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Jennie.
‘I know who this bra belongs to.’
Jennie looked alarmed. ‘Who?’
‘Miss Peters.’
‘Oh don’t be ridiculous Poppy.’ Jennie made a long arm and reached across the table to the biscuit tin. ‘Clemmie’s teacher is fresh out of uni,’ she bit into a Hobnob, ‘and an absolute darling. No disrespect to Bill,’ she licked a crumb off her lips, ‘but Miss Peters is not going to be interested in a forty year old dad with no hair.’
‘Not necessarily,’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘At Parents’ Evening Miss Peters did quite a lot of simpering to Bill. Told him he looked like Jason Statham. Bill was strutting around like Jack the Lad for days on end.’
‘You’re over-reacting,’ Jennie rubbed her hands together, crumb detritus scattering over the table. ‘Plus you have Clemmie to think about. If there’s anything going on – I said if Poppy – it’s just a dalliance.’
‘A dalliance?’ I looked at Jennie in amazement. ‘Does that make it all right then? Would you be calm if Dan had a dalliance?’
‘Dan!’ Jennie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Dan isn’t interested in sex. The only thing that gives him an orgasm is the business making another million. I’m sick of his disinterest in me.’
‘But we are in recession Jennie. You could be a bit more sympathetic for Dan. It’s that last million that bought your gorgeous house, paid for your Porsche and had you holidaying in Barbados.’
‘Money isn’t everything,’ Jennie sniffed.
‘Neither is sex,’ I said sharply. I didn’t like Jennie knocking Dan. He was a sweetheart. Secretly I had a bit of a crush on him. Dan was everything Bill wasn’t. Alpha breadwinner and devastatingly handsome. If he was my husband, instead of complaining about Dan’s attention to profit and loss columns, I’d plonk myself down on his lap in his big executive chair, throw in some budget tips and Dan would declare, “You see Poppy? That’s why I married you. Beautiful and brainy”. And then he’d hug me. Tight. Snog me. Hard. And the chair would start to swivel as we kissed, on and on, round and round, and we’d be giddy with lust, and then he’d scoop me in his arms, stride manfully up the stairs, rip off–
‘Are you all right Poppy? You’re panting.’
I jumped guiltily. ‘Yes. Fine thanks.’ Dear God. My husband was having an affair and here I was in the middle of one myself – albeit on a fantasy level – and with my best friend’s husband no less. Get a grip Poppy. I stood up, gathered the empty mugs and put them in the sink. ‘I’ll have it out with Bill tonight. There’s nothing to lose.’ Apart from a husband, said a small voice in my head.
Later, when Clemmie was asleep, I found Bill shaving in the bathroom. He was naked apart from his boxers. A freshly drawn bath awaited him, soap bubbles popping softly. I stood framed in the bathroom doorway. Took a moment to contemplate. Strolling over, I wrapped my arms around Bill’s waist, hugging him from behind.
‘Don’t Poppy.’
I stiffened. ‘Can’t I give my husband a cuddle?’
‘I don’t want to nick myself.’
‘You usually shave in the morning.’ I released him and regarded his reflection in the mirror. ‘Why are you shaving now?’
‘I’m going out shortly.’
My stomach contracted. ‘Where?’
‘Geoff called earlier. He was working late. When he went to lock up he couldn’t find his key. So I said I’d pop in and do it.’
‘Pop in? The office is forty miles away Bill.’
‘Well I don’t have a choice. Geoff can’t go home until the place is secure. Nobody else has a key.’
This was true. ‘So,’ I joked, ‘you’re shaving to look nice for Geoff?’
Bill sloshed the razor back and forth in the basin. ‘No,’ he said evenly, ‘I’m shaving because I have an early start tomorrow morning and won’t have time to faff about.
I’ll be up and out of here by six.’
‘I see.’ I didn’t see. I didn’t see at all.
Bill stepped out of his underpants and into the bath. ‘Shut the door on your way out.’
Well, if that wasn’t a dismissal, I didn’t know what was! I left my husband to it and went downstairs. In the kitchen, Bill’s mobile phone rested on the table. I paused. Listened to sounds of splashing. Now a tap running. Good. Picking up the mobile, I checked the call log. Geoff hadn’t phoned. Instead the log displayed a number belonging to someone called Jay. Who was Jay? Male or female? Last month Bill had mentioned a new receptionist. Was she the mysterious Jay? I checked for texts. None. I put the mobile phone down and instead went to the landline. Picking up the handset, I punched out a number.
‘Mum? Bill has to go out for a while. Fancy keeping me company? Fab. See you soon.’
My mother lived half a mile away. Five minutes later she came through the front door bearing a bowl of trifle and a DVD.
‘I thought we could have this while watching a slushy film,’ she kissed me on the cheek. ‘Oh hello Bill,’ she greeted my husband as he came down the stairs in a cloud of aftershave.
‘Hello Vi,’ Bill hugged his mother-in-law dutifully. ‘Sorry to dash off. I have to do a colleague a favour.’
‘What a nuisance,’ Mum sympathised.
Bill turned to me. ‘Don’t wait up. I’ll go through my emails while I’m there. Break up the driving time.’
‘Right,’ I nodded. ‘Bye then.’ I shut the door after him. My mother had disappeared into the kitchen. She was rattling around in the cutlery drawer for dessert spoons. Outside, Bill’s car engine turned over. On impulse I grabbed my car keys. ‘Sorry Mum,’ I called out, ‘can you hold the fort?’
‘But Poppy, where–?’
‘Won’t be long,’ I trilled and slammed the door after me.
Bill had gone. But not far. His car’s headlights lit up the road ahead. Jumping into my hatchback, I floored the accelerator. Seconds later I dropped back – gave way to another vehicle. It wouldn’t do to be spotted in Bill’s rear view mirror. He was heading towards town. Not work then. The office was in the opposite direction and via the motorway. Ten minutes later he swept into Sainsbury’s car park. I slunk into a space two aisles away. Bill had parked up next to a sports car. I killed the engine. Sat rock-like. My heart was suddenly beating in my throat. Bill was emerging from his car. And – hang on – the driver’s door on the sports car had opened. A pair of shapely legs unfolded. Moments later the woman’s identity was revealed. My heart lurched. I stared in disbelief. Jay. Not the name Jay, but the initial. J for Jennie. I watched, frozen, as my husband and best friend rushed into each other’s arms. Kissed passionately. Broke away. Kissed again. Bill’s hands now squeezing Jennie’s bottom. And then the grief hit me. Tears spurted from my eyes. But with a jolt I realised my grief was not for Bill. It was for Jennie. The agonising loss of my best friend.
The lovers pulled apart. Jennie hastened round to the passenger side of Bill’s car. Seconds later they zoomed off in a cloud of exhaust. This time I didn’t follow.
An unexpected rap on the passenger window nearly sent me into orbit.
‘Poppy, it’s me.’ A familiar face peered through the glass.
‘Dan?’ I exhaled shakily.
The door handle rattled. ‘Unlock the car.’
I wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands and released the central locking.
‘Are you okay babe?’ He sank down beside me.
I gazed at Jennie’s husband in disbelief. ‘What–?’
‘I followed my dear wife. Looks like you had the same idea.’ He reached for me. ‘Come here. You need a hug.’ His body was warm. Welcoming. I relaxed against him. ‘I suspected for ages there was someone else. Your husband is welcome to her.’ I pulled away. Dan took in my stricken face. ‘Sorry Poppy. That was inconsiderate. For all I know you might want to fight for Bill.’
‘No.’ I rummaged in the glove box for a tissue. Blew my nose. ‘I don’t want Bill. I’ve only been going through the motions for Clemmie’s sake.’ I gave a strangled sob. ‘It’s Jennie I’m going to miss.’
Dan took my hand. Squeezed it. ‘Don’t give her another thought Poppy. I know. I’ll be your best friend instead.’
I gave a watery smile. Dan was lovely. Always calm, even in a crisis. ‘How come you’re not in bits?’
‘Because I’m over Jennie. She’s a greedy, calculating woman. Seeing her with Bill was the final nail in the coffin.’ He smiled at me kindly. ‘How about we get out of here? Go and do whatever it is best friends do.’
‘Well,’ I managed a shaky laugh, ‘they drink a lot of coffee.’
‘And regularly see each other,’ Dan added. His tone caught my attention. He held my gaze.
‘Yes,’ I said softly. ‘They see a lot of each other.’
‘Good,’ Dan tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. It was a familiar gesture. Tender too. ‘Then let us begin.’
REALISATION
Lisa checked her reflection in the bedroom mirror. It was time to tell Anthony it was over.
She reapplied a fresh layer of pink lipstick, pressed her lips together, and then pouted to check the overall effect. Nice. Like her. Well, once nice. Eighteen months ago she’d strayed from the path of being nice to being – there was no other way of saying it – a cow. A tart. Slapper. Bitch. Correction. Mistress.
How the heck had it happened? Even now Lisa struggled to recall crossing that line. The life changing line. The one where her boyfriend had dropped the bombshell that he was married.
‘But it’s not a problem,’ Anthony had assured. ‘I’m leaving Mandy soon. It’s little more than a marriage of convenience. We’re like brother and sister.’
So Lisa had waited another couple of months before broaching the subject of Anthony moving in with her.
‘Oh babe. I’m so sorry. But I can’t. Not yet. Mandy’s father has died. She’s grieving. It would be mean to leave her right now.’
Two more months had limped by.
‘House prices are rubbish. If we sell now, it will be negative equity. I don’t want us starting our lives together owing the bank thousands of pounds.’
Six months later.
‘Mandy’s mother is ill. She’s in a terrible state.’
Who? Mandy? Or the mother? Lisa hadn’t liked to ask.
Seven months later.
‘It’s Christmas. I can’t leave Mandy at Christmas. That would be callous. But I promise you this babe. I’ll see you at some point on Christmas Day.’
By the end of Christmas Day it was Lisa’s turn to be in a state. She’d sacrificed seeing her own family for Anthony. But he’d never shown up. He’d called her at nine o’clock in the evening to say Mandy’s mother had taken a turn for the worse. Lisa had been so mad she’d flung the Christmas pudding at the kitchen wall.
Lisa stood back from her reflection. Right. Time to do this. She strode across her bedroom floor, marched down the stairs and flung the living room door open.
‘Anthony,’ her voice came out as a croak. She coughed and started again. ‘Anthony, I’m sorry, but this has got to stop.’ Lisa padded across the carpet and stood in front of him. She looked at his beautiful face. The dark hair tousled just so. Eyes the colour of delphiniums. A hint of five o’clock shadow brushed the chiselled cheekbones. Her eyes welled. God this was so hard. ‘It’s over. I can’t do this anymore. It’s tearing me apart. I’m wasting the best years of my life waiting around for you. My birthday. Christmas. New Year. They were all events that came and went. Without you.’ She blinked back the tears and glared at him. Anthony deflected Lisa’s glower with a smile. His eyes crinkled so beautifully at the sides. A touch of ruggedness. A heap of sexiness. Lisa put up a hand. ‘Don’t try and disarm me. Your smile hides a spiteful streak Anthony. I’m sorry for your wife and the problems she’s had. But if your marriage was truly over, you’d be with me. Not her. You’ve lied to me all along.
Right from the very start when you led me to believe you were a free agent. You made sure I was madly in love with you before you shattered my world and broke my heart. I should have walked away. But I believed you. Fell for all your crappy excuses.’ Lisa paused. Anthony was still smiling. The smarmy bugger. She shot him another look. Venomous now. ‘You’re a bastard. And a smug bastard at that. Because this time,’ Lisa tossed back her hair defiantly, ‘I’ve caught you out. Yes really! You’re not unhappily married are you? You were just telling me that because you wanted to have your cake and eat it!’ Lisa’s eyes welled again, but this time she lost the battle. Two fat teardrops spilled down her cheeks. ‘You see, I saw you both. Together. In the High Street.’ The tears caught in the back of Lisa’s throat. Her words started to come out in gasps. ‘H-holding hands. L-laughing together. I was,’ she gulped, ‘d-doing some shopping. The Sales. And suddenly,’ she paused, desperately trying to compose herself, ‘there you b-both were...side by side...and...and it was...it was l-like a knife...c-cutting...through my heart,’ Lisa’s chest heaved. She was in real trouble now. The tears had turned to a river. Snot trails threatened. Anthony stared back at her. Still smiling. Still not saying anything.
Beside herself now with anger and grief, Lisa lunged forward. Her hand was balled into a fist, and her aim was spot on. Knuckles connected with cheekbone. There was an almighty crack. The framed photograph of Anthony fell from the coffee table to the floor. Glass fractured. Blood seeped from Lisa’s hand. Anthony looked up at her, his smile frozen in time.
Lisa stepped back. She felt better. Not much, but enough. Enough to stay strong. All she had to do was repeat everything she’d just rehearsed. Anthony would be here – if he kept his promise – in five minutes.
When the doorbell rang, Lisa was ready. She blew her nose and squared her shoulders. Walking into the hallway, she released the catch on the front door. Lisa felt shockwaves ripple through her. It wasn’t Anthony.
Mixed Emotions Page 2
