Mike shrugged helplessly. ‘Sorry, mate. Rosie was at our place earlier. She came to say good-bye. Apparently she left you a note.’
‘Did she now?’ Dave’s mouth had become a thin line. ‘I suppose she’s gone to her mother’s. A woman always runs home to her mother at some point in a marriage, eh?’
Mike didn’t know about that. Karen had never trotted home to her mother in all the years she’d been married to him. He, on the other hand, had been known to occasionally flee to his parents’ place when Karen’s PMT had gone stellar.
‘I think you should call the police, mate.’
‘No,’ Dave’s response had been sharp. ‘I know who did this – well, who’s behind it. Got myself into a spot of bother, you see. I owe money.’
‘Oh,’ Mike had sucked on his teeth. ‘I can lend you a few quid if it helps.’
‘Really?’ Dave had looked at his neighbour hopefully. ‘How much?’
‘Would a couple of hundred see you all right?’
Dave had nodded. ‘Yes, Michael. But only if that figure has three zeroes on the end.’
Mike’s eyes had widened. ‘You owe somebody two hundred grand?’
Dave had nodded. ‘Ah, so what,’ he’d belched, ‘it’s only money.’ And then he’d started to laugh, a high-pitched mirthless noise that, moments later, had turned to tears. Is this what his life had amounted to? Out of control drinking? Gambling debts to loan sharks that he couldn’t begin to pay off? Mike had patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
‘I’d best be getting home. Can I do anything before I go?’
‘Yeah,’ Dave had sniffed, ‘take this ruddy pig off my hands. Give it to Karen and tell her she owes me a bacon sandwich.’
And now, late Saturday afternoon, Dave was wandering the streets. He’d spent last night’s dropped coins on scratch cards, and was currently reduced to searching for more dropped coins on the pavements. He didn’t want to go home because he was too frightened who might turn up. A stiff breeze lifted the collar on his thin jacket. Inside the breast pocket was Rosie’s letter. Bloody bitch. She’d left him for another man! Of all the potential lovers to pick, she’d shacked up with Matt Palmer. The bastard. Rosie had carefully chosen her words to suit her purpose, and written some nonsense about the guy merely helping her out, and that living in Penshurst was only a temporary arrangement. Yeah, right! And pigs might fly. Dave shuddered as a sudden image of the pig carcass flashed into his mind. What sort of cryptic message was that? A warning that he’d end up dead too?
The wind was picking up. It ruffled Dave’s hair, and tugged at his thin jacket. He pulled the front flaps together and zippered it up. It might be April, but a typical British Spring meant the weather was cool and frequently wet. A gust stirred up some rubbish on the side of the pavement. A lone beer can rattled off the kerb and bounced into the road. But what was that? Dave stopped and stared, hardly daring to believe his luck. Next to a pile of McDonald’s detritus, a twenty-pound-note was fluttering helplessly, caught between the burger carton and paper bag. Dave looked around furtively before stooping down. He snatched the bill up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. Straightening up, he resumed walking, at a faster pace now, his heels clicking along the deserted street. What a stroke of good fortune! The only dilemma now was how to spend it – the bookies, or the off-licence?
Dave decided to keep walking and let fate choose for him. If he came across a betting shop first, then he’d spend the twenty in there. If, however, he came across an off-licence, then he’d opt for the booze. He didn’t have long to wait. Ahead was Patel’s Corner Shop which sold everything from cheese and bread to lightbulbs and shoelaces – and lots and lots of alcohol. Two minutes later, Dave had exited the shop with a bottle of whisky in a brown paper bag. He moved into a side alley before breaking the seal on the bottle. His only thought now was to seek oblivion. Just for a little while. And then he’d seriously think about sorting his life out. Tomorrow. Or the day after. But definitely next week.
He tossed some whisky down his neck, relishing the fire in his gullet and belly. Already the harsh corners of reality were receding. And look! Just across the road was a park with some of society’s other misunderstood souls having a little get-together. They were sitting on a bench cuddling cans of super strength lager and bottles of cider. Dave could use some company. He’d go and say hello. Necking some more of the whisky, he staggered between a parked hatchback and a large transit van and made to cross the road.
The black cab seemed to come from nowhere. But by the time Dave had registered the vehicle’s presence, he was under its front wheels. His last thought was that he probably wouldn’t have to worry about money anymore. There was a squeal of tyres, and a thud. Moments later a broken bottle of whisky leaked its contents into spilt blood puddling across the tarmac.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy and Rosie huddled over Terry’s BlackBerry, staring at the text message from Tracey.
‘She doesn’t know who sent the message,’ Rosie exhaled slowly, ‘which means…I don’t understand how… but perhaps she doesn’t really know Terry after all.’
Lucy shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Nonsense! They’ve both signed off their previous text messages with their names. This is getting more and more curious. I don’t–’
At that moment the bedroom door’s handle rattled making both women jump.
‘Lucy?’ Terry’s voice sounded muffled on the other side of the wooden panels. ‘What are you doing, darling? Can you let me in please?’
‘Just a mo.’ Lucy’s fingers fluttered over the BlackBerry as she switched it off. ‘Rosie’s with me and is just trying on her bridesmaid dress. Two more ticks.’ She jerked her head at Rosie who immediately began making slamming noises with the wardrobe door while Lucy returned the mobile phone to its hiding place. ‘Coming.’ She scuttled over to the door and let Terry in while Rosie pantomimed straightening her dress and smoothing down the hemline. ‘Sorry, just checking Rosie’s dress alterations were perfect.’
Terry stepped into the room. His face was very pale. ‘Have you been in the bedroom long?’
‘No, in fact I couldn’t get in here to begin with. Somebody else was in here and the door was locked.’
‘Really? Do you know who it was?’
‘Sorry, no. Is it important?’ When Terry didn’t answer, Lucy ploughed on. ‘Is everything all right, honey? You look a bit wan.’
Terry forced a smile. ‘Fine. I’m fine. I’m missing you, darling. Come downstairs now and circulate. I’d like you to get to know Matt properly. He’s a really good friend, although lethal where women are concerned, so don’t go falling for him!’ Terry attempted humour to hide his anxiety. Too late he noticed his fiancée’s friend flinch. ‘Oh, sorry, you’re not by any chance the shag, er, I mean the cause of him failing to turn up for my stag do, are you?’
Rosie gave Terry a cool look. ‘I’m afraid I am the reason. Sincere apologies. Unfortunately Matt isn’t the only one who is lethal to the opposite sex. You see, I’m the same. I accosted your friend in broad daylight in Waitrose. I was stroking the cucumbers and happened to notice him fondling the melons. It only took a second to deduce that he, like me, had a food fetish. We went slightly berserk, bought several aubergines and a bunch of bananas, drove back to his place and a jolly good time was had by all. I’ve written a book on the subject. It’s called Fifty Ways with Fruit and Veg.’
‘Excellent,’ Terry laughed nervously. ‘Well, er, I’ll get back to mingling.’ He gave Lucy an imploring look. ‘See you downstairs, darling.’
As the door banged shut, Lucy stared at Rosie. ‘I can’t believe you just said that.’
‘Nor me,’ said Rosie. ‘I think suddenly being single has liberated me.’
‘Geez,’ said Lucy, ‘well for God’s sake stay away from Polly when she finally gets out of the bog. She’s a very conservative girl. She still thinks the G-spot is a brand of mouth freshener.’
Downstairs, Matt had extricated
himself from the predatory woman, but had now been button-holed by Terry’s Aunty Pauline.
‘A dear boy, my nephew,’ she was saying, ‘And now he’s met a lovely girl. Do you know Lucy well?’
‘Not yet, but I’m certainly hoping to chat to her properly before the end of today.’
‘Ah, talk of the devil,’ Aunty Pauline nodded, ‘she’s coming over to us.’
‘Hello, Aunty,’ Lucy kissed Terry’s aunt on both cheeks, ‘I love your pink dress. Are you looking forward to the wedding?’
‘That I am, dear, that I am. Now I mustn’t hog you, because I know this young man here is very keen to get to know you better.’
Lucy turned to Matt and shook his hand. ‘An absolute pleasure.’
‘I’ll leave you to it, dear,’ said Aunty Pauline, ‘I must go and talk to Polly who has finally come out of the bathroom. She’s looking very pale, poor love.’
As soon as Aunty Pauline was out of ear-shot, Lucy turned her attention back to Matt. ‘I think we need to talk.’
Matt smiled pleasantly. ‘What would you like to natter about? Cuckolding my best friend, or cuckolding my client?’
‘Neither. Tell me about Tracey?’
Matt looked at Lucy blankly. ‘Tracey who?’
Lucy gave a tinkle of laughter. ‘I thought so. You men all stick together, don’t you?’
‘I truly don’t know who or what you are talking about.’
‘Ten out of ten for being a very convincing liar.’
‘Perhaps you’d like to enlighten me.’
‘Sure. Tracey is my fiancé’s mistress.’
Matt stared at Lucy incredulously. ‘Terry is marrying you in three weeks’ time. There’s no way on this earth he’s having an affair with a female called Tracey, or anyone else for that matter. The guy is as straight as a die.’
‘Well that’s where you’re wrong,’ Lucy said icily. ‘I have evidence.’
‘I don’t believe you. If Terry was playing away, he’d have told me.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself that you’re privy to his secrets. I’ve discovered a string of damning text messages between him and this other woman.’
Matt shook his head. ‘Then all I can say is that I’m truly shocked. I honestly can’t believe Terry would do such a thing. He’s crazy about you, which is why I was so pissed off when I saw you with Gregory Tibor.’
‘Quick to judge aren’t you, Matt?’
‘Two wrongs don’t make a right. Is that why you’re having a fling with Gregory – to punish Terry?’
‘Never mind about my private life, Matt. You worry about your own.’
‘The difference between you and me, Lucy, is that I’m a single guy. I’m not hurting anybody.’
‘No?’ Lucy’s lip curled. ‘And yet you had a married woman in your bed last week and – surprise, surprise – she’s now moved into your apartment. Neat work for somebody with an untroubled conscience.’
‘Nothing is going on between Rosie and me.’
‘That’s not what she told Terry ten minutes ago. Just giving you the heads up if he asks about your melons. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must talk to my other guests.’
Matt watched Lucy stalk off with a sense of incredulity. Was she for real? And what the hell had Rosie told Terry? He didn’t have long to find out. Rosie was coming towards him, Luke on her hip.’
‘Have you been getting to know Lucy?’ she smiled.
‘You could say that,’ Matt nodded. ‘I can’t say I particularly like the girl.’
Rosie bristled slightly. ‘Ditto Terry. He rather carelessly referred to me as your shag.’
Matt sighed. ‘Regrettably Terry can be a bit course at times. It’s not personal.’
‘Oh well,’ Rosie said acidly, ‘I guess that makes it all right then, eh?’
‘Matthew!’ Terry was heading towards them both. A pregnant woman trailed in his wake. ‘You are a dark horse, my friend.’
‘Are you Rosie?’ the pregnant woman piped up.
‘Yes. You must be Polly,’ Rosie smiled. ‘Lucy was talking about you earlier.’
‘Oh, the relief of finding somebody here who has a baby, and who has been through the whole horrid pregnancy thing.’
‘Are you having a rough time?’
‘You could say that. I can’t stop puking from the moment I open my eyes.’
‘Eat something plain and dry as soon as you wake up. Ginger biscuits or crackers are perfect.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Terry nudged Matt, ‘I hear Rosie is a bit of a food expert. Or should I say sexpert?’
‘Does this have something to do with melons?’ Matt asked cautiously.
‘Ah ha, you old dog! I didn’t have you down for being so kinky.’ Terry turned to Polly. ‘Rosie and Matt do things,’ he stage whispered, ‘with fruit and vegetables.’
Polly looked confused. ‘As in cook them, surely?’
‘Not from what I’ve heard.’
‘What are you talking about, Terry?’ asked Matt.
‘Oh, that’s all right, old chap, your secret is safe with us. If you want to bonk a banana, you carry on. Gives a whole new meaning to having your five a day, eh!’
There was a stunned silence. Polly was the first to break it. ‘What exactly do you do for a living, Rosie?’
‘Funny stuff with food,’ Terry winked.
‘I’m a product tester,’ Rosie replied.
‘Is that what you call yourself,’ Terry guffawed. ‘What do you do then? Strap a pair of pineapples onto your chest before launching yourself off a wardrobe?’
‘I’m fritefly sorry,’ said Polly, ‘but I’m not following this conversation at all.’
Rosie gave Terry a chilly smile before turning to Polly. ‘I test dog food.’
Polly’s brow furrowed. ‘What, as in sniffing it?’
‘Yes, I do sniff it, but more specifically, I eat it.’
Terry stopped grinning and Polly instantly clutched at her mouth. ‘Excuse me,’ she made to shove her way through the group, ‘but I think I’m going to be sick again.’
‘Excuse me too,’ said Rosie demurely, ‘but all this talk of bananas and pineapples has made me a little hot and bothered.’ Rosie turned to Matt, her eyes very wide. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen, investigating the fruit bowl.’
Matt stared after Rosie before turning to Terry. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’ve all been talking about. Care to inform me?’
‘Er, not really, matey. Not sure if I haven’t perhaps got the wrong end of the stick.’
‘Easily done,’ Matt nodded. ‘In fact, talking of muddles, I need to ask you something, Terry.’
‘Fire away,’ Terry rubbed his hands together, ‘what do you want to know?’
‘A little bird told me that you’re playing away.’
Terry frowned. ‘Playing away? What are we talking here? Rugby? Football?’
Matt put his head on one side. ‘Come on, mate. Fess up. This is me you’re talking to. I’m referring to your bit on the side. Crumpet.’
Terry’s eyes nearly shot off his forehead. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Whatever gave you that idea?’
Matt looked Terry in the eye. ‘I know about Tracey.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Terry paled. ‘How the heck do you know about–?’
‘Terry, please tell me it’s not true,’ Matt looked appalled.
‘It’s not quite what you think, I swear,’ Terry looked mortified. ‘I’m not a bad person.’ A fine sweat had broken out on his upper lip. ‘Were you at Knole Park? Is that how you found out?’
Matt touched his friend’s arm. ‘Don’t distress yourself. I’m not going to say anything to anyone.’
‘Promise?’
‘You have my word.’
Terry nodded and exhaled shakily. ‘I feel so embarrassed…and ashamed. But, it’s like an addiction Matt – a drug.’
‘Hey, your personal life is that. Private. But be careful, eh? You wouldn’t want Lucy finding out. Ar
e you getting cold feet about the wedding?’
‘No!’ Terry gasped. ‘Absolutely not. I love Lucy with all my heart. Look, I will give Tracey up. You have my word. I’ll see her one more time, and then that will be it. No more.’
‘Sure. Just, you know, be discreet.’
‘Yes, yes of course. No more outings like Knole Park. And, er, I won’t say anything about your little fetish. You know…the bananas.’
Matt put his head on one side and considered. ‘The bananas,’ he said slowly. ‘Okay. That’s fine by me.’
‘We have a deal then?’ Terry’s voice shook slightly.
‘We have a deal. And don’t upset yourself. It’s nothing. A lot of guys do it, especially before they get hitched.’
‘Really?’ Terry looked puzzled.
‘Absolutely. Just don’t let it spoil things – you know, between you and Lucy.’
‘No, of course not. I’d die of shame if she found out. And you absolutely promise not to tell her?’
‘Scout’s honour.’
Terry nodded. ‘Excuse me for a minute, Matt. I just need to be alone for a moment, you know, to collect my thoughts.’
Matt patted Terry on the shoulder. ‘Sure. See you in a bit.’
Terry nodded and stumbled away. He looked a broken man. On the other side of the room, Lucy caught Matt’s eye and made her way over.
‘Did you find anything out about Tracey?’ she asked.
Matt took a deep breath. ‘I don’t think the woman in question will be on the scene from now on. Put it down to pre-wedding nerves.’
Lucy’s eyes flashed. ‘Likewise with Gregory Tibor.’
Matt gave Lucy a curt nod and headed off towards the kitchen to find Rosie. She was sitting at the table with Luke on her lap, spooning mashed banana into his mouth. Matt pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.
‘Did the fruit bowl come up trumps?’ Matt nodded at Luke’s sloppy meal.
Rosie grinned. ‘Sorry about that, but I think your friend Terry is a bit of a berk. He just brought out the worst in me. I hope I haven’t embarrassed you.’
The Perfect Marriage Page 9