Dead to Her

by Sarah Pinborough

  “Weed?” He twisted around in his seat to face her. “Where the hell did you get that from? Don’t tell me you bought it from one of those tramps you feed? Who knows what could be in—”

  “Calm down, it wasn’t mine. Keisha found it.” She let out a half-laugh. “You’ll never guess where. In Eleanor’s stuff. Hidden in with her underwear apparently. There was morphine and needles there too.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “So be glad I didn’t try that.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Anyway, you’re the one who wanted me to be friends with her.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t mean turn into some kind of college dropout and embarrass yourself.”

  “Oh, screw you, Jason.” Her patience snapped. He wasn’t her father. “It’s not a big deal. You’re going away for a whole weekend tomorrow and you’re pissed that I had some fun?” Some fun. She’d kissed a girl. She’d actually kissed a girl.

  “Yep.” Jason pulled back onto the road, faster than he needed to. “Puking out of the car sure looks like fun.”

  They sat in silence while her stomach roiled once more. She swallowed hard, pretty sure she was going to be sick again.

  “William will lose his shit if he finds out she looked through Eleanor’s things.”

  “I wasn’t planning on telling him,” Marcie said. “And you’d better not either. Can we let it go now? Or I’ll hurl again all over your legs.” She gave him a grimace of a smile and he begrudgingly smiled back.

  “Sometimes I forget you’re still pretty young.”

  Yeah, she thought. Sometimes I do too.

  It was dark when she woke, head throbbing and mouth acid dry. Her stomach muscles ached as she carefully sat up and drained the glass of water Jason had put there for her before she’d passed out. As she lay back down she didn’t reach for him as he slept beside her, one arm stretched out under his pillow.

  She was going to feel awful tomorrow. Was it the weed or the tequila or the combination that had wrecked her? Probably all of it. The grass had been strong. Stronger than anything she’d ever smoked and she was very much out of practice. Had Keisha been sick too? Probably not.

  Keisha. God, what an afternoon. Marcie still couldn’t get her head around it. Everything felt upside down, all that hatred gone. They were alike, there was no denying it. Both from tough backgrounds, both a lot younger than their husbands, both being forced into a mold that wasn’t their shape. Both alone. There were differences too, though. Marcie hadn’t married Jason for his money. Yes, it had been attractive to have a man who could look after her, but she’d loved him when they got together. She still did love him.

  Didn’t she? A worm of doubt wriggled through her veins. All the money she was spending on the house—that was boredom. The social climbing. How much did it actually matter to her? The way he’d been so quick to close down her business rather than help find ways to make it work. None of it made her want to have his baby. To tie herself to him forever.

  He’d swept her off her feet at the start, that was for sure, but how did she really feel about him now? His secrets. The way he looked at Keisha. Just needed the bathroom. If it wasn’t Keisha on the phone, who was it? Was a lot of how she felt built on resentment?

  Keisha. Her thoughts came back to Keisha, as they had ever since she’d turned up on William’s arm. Now sober, with all the angst of her hangover kicking in, she burned with embarrassment at the kiss. What if Keisha told William? No, she wouldn’t. Or would she? There was something unpredictable about Keisha. How easily she’d opened up about her past. Keisha was a sharer. A dangerous thing. What if she got drunk around Iris or Virginia and told them? The dancing. The kiss. The weed. They all thought Marcie was second rate already, this would make her a joke. Oh God, what had they been thinking?

  Marcie rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball. There was no point in worrying about it now. If Keisha brought it up, Marcie’d blame it on the cocktails, laugh about it, and hopefully they’d both forget it ever happened. She closed her heavy eyelids, sleep coming to take her again. She’d kissed a woman. It wasn’t that weird.

  No. The thought slipped in as she drifted for once too deep into the darkness to even hear the quiet buzz of Jason’s phone as a text came in. What was weird was how much she’d liked it.

  20.

  Steam billowed out from the sliding door as Keisha stepped under the shower jet. She’d turned the water up as hot as she could stand, wanting to burn herself free of him, free of everything. She’d feigned sleep while Billy got up to go and use his stupid treadmill, but the truth was that she’d barely dozed for more than half an hour or so all night. Even the call she’d crept downstairs to make hadn’t lifted her mood, and she’d kept her eyes on her feet as she went, sure that if she looked up in the night there’d be ghostly boys coming from every corner to drag her into the darkness. Maybe the Valium wasn’t going to be enough this time. It was hard to stay shining and bright and confident when in so many ways she felt trapped and afraid. After what had happened with Marcie, she should feel good. More than good. Everything was going better than she could have hoped for. But then there was Billy with his Jekyll and Hyde ways.

  She let the hot water pummel her shoulders, but where the spray from the jets cut across her buttocks, she winced. He had not been sweet and gentle and pathetic Billy last night. He’d taken two Viagras, eager to enjoy her loose mood and maybe punish her for it too. Perhaps she’d shone too much when he got home. Maybe he wanted that all for himself. Whichever, when they’d gone to bed he’d wanted to experiment. Play out some fantasy, he said. She cringed inside, remembering it. The spanking she could cope with, but this time he’d taken it up a level, using his belt. At first it was just teasing, light and playful, but that didn’t last long. Seemed it had to get harder to make him harder. The less he could fuck easily, the meaner his sex got.

  She scrubbed her skin, trying to focus on the good things. The future. The reassuring words on the phone. The sex had probably lasted only an hour or so before he fell asleep, but it had felt like an age. She’d wanted to cry. Especially when he went in there. She could just about cope with a fat old man when he was gentle, but not when he was grunting obscenities while hurting her. She wasn’t made for this. She couldn’t switch off and just do it, no matter how hard she tried.

  The fact that she’d been so stoned had made it worse. It made her emotional. That grass had been good but weird, leaving her head heavy and fuzzy, as if it were something stronger. Trippy had been the wrong word. It had been dreamy. But she knew only too well how dreams could turn quickly to nightmares—the ghostly boy, the boy, the boy who wasn’t there—and after the dream of her evening, the hour of sex had become a nightmare.

  How could she have seen Billy as such an adoring puppy when they were in London? Harmless. Impotent. Sweet. Maybe sweetness belonged to those in the middle, not the poor or the rich. She knew she wasn’t sweet. She wasn’t a good person, she knew that. Cursed. Why had she presumed he would be? Maybe wicked recognized its own.

  What was he going to be like today? Snappy with her? She wasn’t entirely sure that, after it was done, Billy overly liked himself when they’d had that kind of sex, and she figured it was easier for him to blame his urges on her than on himself. To say she brought it out in him. She was going to have to be extra nice to him today and make him feel better about it. Just the thought weighed her down in her bones.

  She turned toward the water and tilted her face into it. She’d feel better when her hangover and comedown were over.

  “Got room for me in there?” Through the steam Billy’s naked body appeared as he pulled open the door. “I’ll soap your back if you soap mine.”

  She laughed and smiled as her heart sank. She didn’t want him near her. Not when she’d just gotten clean. She had to toughen up. Everything was going well. Her mind drifted back to the double dose of Viagra Billy had taken last night and, as she closed her eyes and let the water soothe her, ignoring his hands on her, s
he thought how much easier everything would be if it had given him a stroke.

  21.

  “So sorry I’m a little late,” Elizabeth said. “I forgot I’d offered to go check on Emmett and Virginia’s place to sort their mail, and that took longer than expected, and then I had to go to the bank and there was such a long line. After that, I went to feed Midge for Iris, which should only have taken thirty minutes or so, but I couldn’t find him anywhere.” She wiped away an imagined hair from her forehead, her natural dark curls tight and short in the humid air. Marcie had never seen Elizabeth look so flustered. “He hasn’t eaten yesterday’s food either. I’ll go back and search properly later but I’ve told the pool boy and gardener to check anywhere outside he may have gotten stuck before they finish up.”

  “He’ll be back,” Marcie said. “Cats like to wander. He’s too old to have gotten too far.”

  They were at the club, in the luncheon pavilion, Marcie having had a blissful morning lying out by the pool, the sun glittering diamonds on the surface, freshly squeezed orange juice by her side, and a terrible trashy novel to half-read while Jason, her deceptive handsome husband, had been at work. Now he was here by her side, looking relaxed for once. William had joined them after a round of golf. Maybe that’s why Jason looked happier. He hadn’t had William trying to take back the reins at work.

  “I’m sure you’re right, and yes, he’s old and sick, but Iris just adores that cat. If anything happens to him, she’ll be devastated. Anyway,” Elizabeth continued. “Sorry I missed you at the office. Here’s your travel details.” She handed an envelope to Jason. “Flight leaves this afternoon at four thirty and a driver will be waiting to take you to the hotel. I’ve emailed it to you as well.”

  “You want to stay for some lunch?” William asked.

  “Oh no, I’ve got a million things to do today. You know how it is. And Zelda has some family coming in by bus for her weekend off. I’m going to give them a ride. But thank you. Oh.” She squinted in the sunlight. “Here’s Keisha. My, she suits those tennis whites.”

  The comment sat somewhere in tone between an honest compliment and a snide snub, and Marcie wasn’t sure which Elizabeth intended. Her stomach knotted and she automatically reached for her wine, thankful she had her shades to hide behind. What was it she was feeling anyway? Cringing embarrassment? Yes, but not just that. A hint of nerves too. Excitement maybe. Jesus, she needed to get a grip. It was just a woman, not Tom fucking Hardy. There was no reason to be so flustered. Keisha obviously hadn’t said anything to William, because Marcie would have heard by now. It had been nothing. A stupid drunken moment. No reason to feel so odd. Still, sweat prickled on the backs of her thighs and her position in her chair suddenly felt awkward.

  Keisha, on the other hand, looked totally relaxed, pausing at the pool area gate, chatting her goodbyes to May and Charlene. God, poor Keisha, sharing her tennis lesson with them. Never had two duller YummyMummies walked the planet. They were both older than Marcie, forty at least, under the Botox and fillers, and, as she recalled, had loathed each other until bonding over IVF and their subsequent miracle babies, Joshua and Megan. Spoiled and whiny, both of them. But then so were their mothers.

  “She does, doesn’t she?” William said, as Keisha strolled toward them, a big smile on her face as her hips rolled in that confident, sexy, tilted-forward walk. Marcie could see Jason watching her, taking it all in, and it still rankled, the way she became invisible when Keisha was around, as if she were nothing. Jason wasn’t the only one studying Keisha. Behind the expensive tinted glasses, all eyes in the pavilion were watching her, filled with mischief and gossip, eager to get a glimpse of the young black gold digger who’d replaced the saintly Eleanor Radford. Women leaned in closer to one another to comment with wry smiles, William no doubt the butt of the jokes. Keisha didn’t notice as she sauntered by. Marcie had always noticed when they were whispering about her. Felt each glance like a knife. Keisha was either oblivious or used to it. Maybe women always looked at her like that, as if she were a threat who had to be dealt with. At least Marcie had had the good grace to be meek when she’d slid in among them.

  “I’ve passed your number to Keisha, by the way,” William said. “Thought you could help her with some ideas for the party, seeing as you two are getting along.”

  “No problem.” Marcie’s heart was pounding as Keisha finally reached them, leaning forward to kiss William—a nice display for the crowds—and she tingled as she remembered the feel of those soft, painted lips on hers.

  “So,” Keisha said, as she sat down, one hand holding William’s. “They’re abandoning us for the weekend, Marcie. What will we do while they’re gone?”

  “Whatever you do, not so much tequila,” Jason cut in, answering for Marcie, which was a good thing because her throat had inexplicably tightened a little, and the joke let her laugh it out without looking like a giggling idiot. “God no,” she finally said. “I think I actually died for a while yesterday.”

  “We should do something though,” Keisha said. “While the cat’s away and everything . . .”

  “We’re going to be having a sedate weekend of golf and early nights,” William said. “So perhaps you two should have dinner here. I can make you a reservation. Save your energy for when I’m back, honey.”

  Marcie wanted to laugh. What did William sound like? Save your energy. It was pathetic, really, this need in older men to impress younger women. Maybe they were the only women some men could impress. “I’ll call Julian and Pierre. We could have them over to your place for brunch and see what they can do for your Fourth of July party. But it’s not that far away, they may be booked up.”

  “They’ll do it,” William said. “Julian used to be like family.” His mouth tightened at the same time as a solitary wisp of cloud drifted across the parched sky, and Marcie couldn’t tell if the shadows were from that or a slight darkening of his mood. Maybe he didn’t overly like the boys. Maybe Julian had been a favorite of Eleanor’s. She’d have thought the couple would have been too pansy for old-fashioned William.

  “Hey!” Keisha suddenly exclaimed. “I almost forgot. Guess who Charlene says she was sure she saw at the mall yesterday?”

  They all looked at her.

  “Jacquie. Charlene said she called after her but she couldn’t have heard. She was too far away to catch up with.”

  “Jason’s Jacquie?” William said.

  “Can’t have been Jacquie.” Jason’s voice was cold. “She wouldn’t come back here. Must have been someone who looked like her.”

  Marcie barely noticed as the waiter brought her salad. Jacquie? Sneaking back into town? After she’d raged and cursed at Jason, even as she walked away with a lot more than Jason had to give her in the divorce, yelling, I’d rather die than come back to this snake-infested place and I’m not talking about the wildlife!

  No, it couldn’t have been Jacquie. If it was, she’d have breezed into the club for lunch with one of her old friends to rub Marcie’s nose in it.

  “I guess not then,” Keisha said, drawing her chair up closer to her oozing burger. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

  But if it was Jacquie, Marcie wondered as she picked up her fork, what could have brought her back here?

  22.

  It had been a long time since Marcie had slept naked, but after a shower she’d stretched out on the bed, the open shutters to the Juliet balcony letting the evening breeze in, enjoying the air on her skin. She’d felt such a surprising rush of freedom she hadn’t even bothered to put any underwear on.

  It was odd being in the house alone. It was far too big for two people, let alone one, and without Jason there it felt enormous. A beautiful Italianate seven-bedroom mansion that somehow felt like a mausoleum. For what though? Her marriage perhaps. Jason with his bad moods and secret phone calls—if it wasn’t Keisha then who was it?—and eyes for other women. She hadn’t heard from him since they’d landed and she wasn’t surprised. Distracted didn�
�t cover Jason at the moment. And now, on top of everything, maybe Jacquie was back. Was that bothering him? Did he already know? Jason liked to be in control, she knew that, but maybe he was learning that women often only gave the illusion of submission.

  God, she was bored with thinking about Jason, and now she had her own distraction. It wasn’t thinking of Jason that had her sleepless in the night. She looked at her phone again. Keisha had texted almost immediately after William had left for the airport. Let’s do something this weekend. Kx. Marcie hadn’t answered, not right away. She wasn’t sure why. The quiet drumming in the pit of her stomach that screamed both danger and excitement. Was it the memory of that kiss?

  No, not even that. It was the reminder of who she’d once been. Free. Wild. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. If she went back to that, who knew where all this would end? Running away in the grip of a scandal and working in a diner after screwing up her life? A person could only do that once with any sense of energy and she’d used up her shot. It wasn’t worth the risk simply to have the thrill of something illicit. In the end she’d set up Sunday brunch with Julian and Pierre and sent a formal text back to Keisha saying she’d see her then. There had been a pause and then, Okay thx. I’m about all weekend so if u get bored before then let me know.

  Still though, Marcie couldn’t sleep. It was one thing to tell yourself not to do something, but it was quite another to stop thinking about it. Her mind was turning over and over, her body tingling, while her head went places she never ever thought she’d go about someone she actually knew. Hot places, as if now that she was no longer worried that Keisha would tell William, something had been unlocked inside. Doing the kind of things she’d only seen in porn. It was ridiculous, and yet she couldn’t stop.