Saze Monnivan: I’ve blocked anonymous users so “Anonymous”, can walk on! Good riddance! If I had a webcam teleport I’d pour my cup of coffee over your sick head.
Hey8tr: Turn on your webcam and show me your tits. Bet you ain’t got any. Bet you’re a freakily flat titted fat bitch. Flatty fatty, flatty fatty!!!!
GeoffBD: What the hell is wrong with this guy? “Hey8tr”, you need some serious help.
SxyGrrl: “Hey8tr”, if you are reported and traced you can be prosecuted. Even sent to prison. Saze, ignore him. He’s a sick man-boy. Wanted to say I think your fella is a doughnut. “GeoffBD”, heelllooooo – I’m just going to email you! ; )
***
Baked Surprise.
15:00
The bell above the bakery door jangled as I opened it.
‘Good afternoon,’ chirped a friendly, female voice from behind the counter. A head popped up. She had a box of cakes in her hand which she set on the counter top. ‘What can I get for you?’
I sniffed the warm, fragrant air. ‘Just a split tin loaf, please.’
She expertly whipped a loaf from the shelf and wrapped it in a paper bag. ‘One pound thirty.’
I dropped the money into her hand and accepted the loaf. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘You should have this.’
Her eyes were confused. ‘What is it?’ She accepted the case.
I opened the door before replying. ‘A little DVD your husband’s been passing around at work. You need to say no to the camcorder.’
Her scarlet cheeks told me she knew exactly what I meant.
Posted: 15:30 2 Sazements
Orange Michelle: Can’t believe you did that! OMFG bet Wayne is going to be in the dog house!
SxyGrrl: My ex had a secret stash of homemade porn DVD’s. I found them in the garage. I scraped all of them across the garage floor. Took me hours. He had a right go! I told him to shove them up his arse! Some had my sister’s name on them and get this… my friend’s name too! Turned out he was a serial cheater. I posted the “friend” DVD through her door, addressed to her husband. He’s a cage fighter! The rest I glued to my ex’s beloved car. You should’ve seen his face!
***
Hate Cat; Love Neighbours.
18:25
Mr Him strolled in late from work. He had his jacket slung over his shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. His tan had gone a tad streaky.
‘What’s this?’ I waved my phone in his face.
‘A phone?’
I pointed at a picture I’d taken of my laptop screen, showing my online bank account. I zoomed in on the image and shoved the phone under his nose. ‘Two hundred pounds withdrawn on Friday 15th at one in the morning.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘You withdrew that money because I was at home.’
Mr Him threw me a look. ‘And?’
‘It’s MY account!’
‘We live together and we share.’ Mr Him looked affronted.
‘What?’ Anger rose hot in my throat and I wished my words would scorch his eyebrows. ‘It’s MY account. You had no right to take it.’
‘If I knew you’d act this possessively over a little bit of poxy money, I’d have asked you first.’
‘And I’d have said no,’ I retorted.
‘Fine. I won’t do it again.’
‘I want it back.’
‘Whatever.’
I held out my hand. ‘Now.’
‘Oh for fucks sake,’ snapped Mr Him. ‘You’ll have to wait until I get paid. I haven’t got it.’
‘Balls.’ I plonked my hands on my hips, fish-wife like.
Mr Him delved into his pocket and pulled out a roll of notes.
‘Where did you get so much money from?’ I blurted out. ‘You just said I’d have to wait until you get paid.’
Mr Him stuffed some money into my hands. ‘I can never please you, can I?’
I watched him squirrel away the remaining notes. ‘Considering you’re so well off,’ I began sweetly. ‘You can repay me for those new trainers I bought you in the Christmas sales.’
‘But you paid for them.’
‘Only because when we reached the till, you said you’d forgotten your wallet and,’ I added gleefully, ‘they cost one hundred and forty pounds.’
Mr Him huffed and reluctantly pulled the roll of notes back out and tossed some into the air. ‘Happy?’
I picked the notes up. ‘Perfectly. I forgot to mention I returned the DVD to Wayne’s wife.’
Colour dropped from Mr Him’s face. ‘How do you know her?’ he asked slowly.
I smiled serenely. ‘She works in the bakery down the road. Has done for years, didn’t you know?’
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. I knew he said, no sorry shouted, something but I was too busy grinning and laughing to pay attention.
***
Two hours after Mr Him first graced me with his return he skulked off to the Golf Club. We’d not been on speaking terms since the money and DVD incident. I couldn’t strike up a conversation when all I wanted to do is to strike him with a heavy object. My tongue was sharp and his skin brick-like that each time I spoke, my voice was sharpened further. He still hadn’t notice the slit in his favourite jeans. I decided to make it larger.
Bugger, had cut a massive hole. Mr Him could fit a leg through it. Suspicion crept into my head, its fingers tapping my brain. I had the idea to knock on my neighbour’s door to see if Daughter could spend the evening there. Daughter is close friends with neighbour’s daughter. There was something I had to do.
Posted: 20:25 2 Sazements
SxyGrrl: OMFG! Can’t believe he actually nicked your money – what a tosser! Stop by my blog, I’m talking about the time I pasted glue over my sister’s horse saddle… revenge.
Hey8tr: You’re so fugly YOU should pay him for staying with you. That bloke’s a saint for even looking at your fat, skank-dog face.
***
Dry Club.
Having deposited Daughter with her friend across the hall, much to both of their delights, I had time to myself. It was driving me crazy that Mr Him cared not for responsibility and had disappeared off to imbibe himself again with Mr Dry. Mr Dry looked down his long nose from his vantage height every time we’d met and my throat constricted instantly, my tongue no longer sharp but stuck to the roof of my mouth. I cannot stand Mr Dry, I wished I could flood him with my scorn the same he dries me with his.
I changed into skinny jeans, leather jacket, and flat boots. I left my long curls loose. Mr Him prefers them straight but I don’t. I am more me with curls. The bicycle creaked in protestation as I wheeled it from the shed, obviously having accustomed itself to a life of non-servitude.
My legs were stiff from the two mile, uphill ride to the golf club. I tumbled gratefully, not gracefully, off the saddle. Realising the bike lock still hung on the wall in the shed, I shoved the bicycle into a darkened bush. There were only three vehicles parked in the car park and I doubted anyone would want to steal my rusty bicycle.
Gravel scrunched noisily under the thin sole of my boots. Soft light spilled from the building and cast a glow over potted shrubs which denoted the entrance. The night air bit at my fingers and I rubbed my hands together to warm them, wishing I’d worn gloves.
The door moved before I touched it.
‘Saze? What are you doing here?’ My nemesis swung the heavy door wide open, engulfing me with dry warmth.
‘Thought I’d surprise my other half.’
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ Mr Dry asked politely.
I nodded suspiciously. Mr Dry hooked his hand onto my elbow and guided me into the downstairs bar.
‘Shouldn’t we go upstairs? I thought you preferred the lounge bar?’ I asked.
Mr Dry looked shifty. ‘There’s a greater variety of drinks served at this bar.’
‘I’ll choose one from here then pop upstairs.’ I tried to read his closed face.
‘Have a seat.’ Mr Dry gestured at a chair.
‘What would you like?’
‘Sparkling wine, please.’ I followed him to the bar.
‘Honestly, take a seat.’
‘I’m quite capable of standing.’
Mr Dry flashed me a look. ‘I’m trying to be a gentleman. I’d advise you to take full advantage.’
‘Why are you being nice?’
‘When have I ever not been?’
I didn’t know how to answer him so I watched him place the order for drinks, one for me, one for himself.
‘Shall we sit down?’ He pulled a chair out at a table beside the windows which, in daylight, overlooked the terrace.
I lifted an eyebrow. ‘Upstairs,’ I said pointedly.
Mr Dry held out a pleading hand. ‘Sit, enjoy your drink.’
‘Look, I appreciate the effort. I know you hate me.’
‘I don’t hate you.’ Mr Dry peered into his glass.
I shook off my jacket and laid my mobile on the table. ‘What is it then?’ I clapped a hand to my mouth. ‘He’s with someone else, isn’t he?’
Mr Dry tipped his chin up and sighed.
‘He’s not getting away with it.’ I tore from the downstairs bar and flew up the wooden staircase to the first floor lounge area.
‘Are you okay?’ Mr Dry pulled my chair out for me once I found my way back downstairs.
I nodded and gulped my drink before responding. ‘Where the hell is he?’
‘I’ll buy a bottle, shall I?’ Mr Dry returned.
‘Meaning I’ll probably need it?’
Mr Dry’s back was rigid as he pointed at a bottle. His square shoulders were softened by a charcoal sweater. A heavy coat hung over the back of his chair. It appeared as if he had walked out for a quiet drink judging by his brown walking boots. In contrast, Mr Him had showered himself in aftershave, ironed a shirt, and slipped on a pair of patent shoes. Mr Dry turned to face me while he waited for the bartender to uncork the bottle, and smiled lopsidedly. I couldn’t return it. He raked a hand through his dark hair and looked away.
‘Must be serious. You’ve bought champagne.’
Mr Dry smiled tightly. ‘They’ve run out of cava. I assume you thought he was here with me?’
I nodded. ‘Obviously it isn’t true. I bet the two of you cooked it up, laughing at my stupidity.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Tell me what it’s like then.’ The champagne tasted fantastic. ‘You provide the cover for him.’
Mr Dry fingered the stem of his glass. ‘Unwittingly. I’m not who you think I am.’
‘Prove it. Tell me what you know.’
‘I’ve not shared a drink with your significant other since before Christmas.’
I digested his words slowly. ‘But he’s been out almost every night. He told me he was with you.’
Mr Dry sighed. ‘It makes it sound like we’re best mates.’
‘He says you are!’
Mr Dry reached for my hand. It felt strange but I couldn’t move my own. ‘He and I have never been mates, Saze.’
I couldn’t speak. It took all my strength to nod at him to carry on.
‘I’ve never agreed with the way he treats you or the way he brags at work and we’ve agreed to disagree. You’ve been with him for a long time.’ Mr Dry removed his hand from mine.
I found my voice at last. ‘He’s cheating on me, isn’t he?’
Mr Dry refilled our glasses.
‘How long for?’ My tongue clamped itself to the roof of my mouth.
‘Since I’ve been working with him.’ Mr Dry’s dark eyes sought mine.
My hand shook as I drank from the refilled glass. ‘With the skinny bimbo from your work?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. He’s quite the bragger.’
‘I bet he is.’ The champagne went down really well, especially compared to the news my long term partner was a long term cheat. ‘Who?’
‘From what I can gather, it started with women he’d meet when out with the lads.’
‘You’re one of the lads.’
Mr Dry smiled. ‘I’m most definitely not one of the lads, Saze.’
I looked at him properly for the first time since we’d met. I noticed a small mole nestled beneath the thick lashes of his left eye and that his nose ended in a neat point with a slight upturn. He was older than Mr Him and he had a serious look, one I’d obviously misconstrued as hostility. ‘Get to the point.’
Mr Dry’s heavy eyebrows furled together. ‘I can only tell you what little I know. I try not to listen if I can help it. It started last summer. She’s married. I expect the challenge appealed. He can’t help talking about her.’ He paused, refilling my glass which was mysteriously empty. His voice wavered, ‘You know the woman from where you live. I think she’s a similar age to you.’
Shock slapped me. ‘There are only three flats in my building. Mine, Mrs Downs’ on the whole top floor and… Kelly? Kelly from across the hall? But my daughter’s staying with her tonight, our daughters are friends. Kelly will be at home with them.’
‘Her husband does the babysitting. She goes out.’
‘The bitch. I can’t believe it. It’s been going on right under my nose and I hadn’t even suspected!’
Mr Dry and I finished the bottle of champagne, then he dug my bike out of the bush for me.
‘Take care.’ He pushed the bike towards me, looking as if he wanted to say more.
Sleet sheeted across the now vacant car park and I pulled already damp curls from my eyes. ‘You don’t like him, do you?’ My hand brushed Mr Dry’s as I wrapped my fingers around the cold handlebars.
‘Does it matter?’ Stooping slightly, he peered down at me in the darkness.
‘Yes.’
Mr Dry stuffed his large hands into his coat pockets. ‘No. I don’t.’
I thanked him for the champagne and the honesty and left him in the car park. I pushed the bike all the way home.
The flat’s emptiness greeted me. I suddenly yearned for company to ease the ever-increasing numbness. Lucky I didn’t have Mr Dry’s phone number, for some inexplicable reason I wanted to call him. I tossed my mobile phone onto the sofa beside me and switched on the television, jumping as the phone beeped. I lifted it with a heavy hand, expecting a message from Mr Him.
“If you need me, call me. I hope you didn’t think I was too much of a prat.”
Mr Dry must’ve taken my number from my phone when I went in search of Mr Him. It brought hope and I no longer yearned for company. It was something I had to face on my own.
Posted: 23:30 7 Sazements
SxyGrrl: What a shame your fella’s fallen into the atypical mould. Are you going to chuck him out, burn his clothes? Who’s this other man? Do you like him? Is he single? Arrgghh, so many questions!
Saze Monnivan: I don’t know what to do. I mean I imagined this. Now it’s really happening I’m a little scared.
SxyGrrl: Must be hard to consider breaking up as you have a child. I don’t have kids.
GeoffBD: DUMP him! Don’t let him make you feel as if you are worthless.
Hey8tr: You got exactly what you deserved, fat bitch. You’re well minging. Bet you smell like fish.
GeoffBD: If I ever find out who that little wimp is, I’m going to make him sorry he ever started this. Get off Saze’s blog and go play with your penis in the middle of a motorway.
Hey8tr: Fuck off, Granddad. You’re sitting behind your computer with your penis in your hand. You only read women’s blogs so you can get one off because no-one wants to touch you.
***
Sunday, 24th February 2013
Falling Beauty.
03:15
I alternated between watching television and the clock until Mr Him’s key sounded in the lock.
‘You’re still awake?’ He looked surprised.
‘I was waiting for you.’
Mr Him yawned. ‘I’m knackered.’
‘You don’t fancy having a drink with me and then we can both go to bed?’ I k
issed him on the cheek and wound my arms around his neck.
Mr Him untangled me. ‘I just told you, I’m tired. What’s the matter with you?’
‘You’re cheating.’
Mr Him sniffed suspiciously. ‘Are you pissed?’
‘No… maybe a little.’
‘You always start an argument when you’re pissed.’ Mr Him scratched his stubbly head.
‘You’re the pissed one,’ I reprimanded. ‘You said phished not pissed.’
‘What are you? The pro-nunci-ation po-lice?’
‘Did you have a good time out with your bestie?’
Mr Him nodded. ‘Yeah, we’re organising a trip to Belgium for a week.’
‘When?’
‘End of next month.’
‘You two and all the others from your work?’
‘Nah, just me and him. The others get on me wick.’
Anger words bubbled up my throat, it hurt to push them back down. ‘No women?’
‘Don’t be stupid, it’s a blokey holiday. If I wanted a naggy, birdy holiday then I’d take you.’
‘Oh, I see,’ I replied sweetly. ‘I see you for what you really are. A serial cheater. A liar!’
Mr Him folded his arms. ‘You’re fucking delusional.’ His eyebrows furrowed.
I shook my head vehemently. ‘For the first time in my life I am looking at my life, and those in it, with complete lucidity.’
‘What the pissing hell are you harping on about? You know I hate it when you speak all poncey.’
‘I know everything!’ The anger words spilt unheeded from my lips. My tongue sizzled. ‘About you and that conniving-skank-tart-dog-face-bitch-bag-from-duplicity-city.’
‘What is it you think you know, Saaayze?’
‘That you’re screwing Kelly.’
He looked a little pale. ‘Don’t be fucking ridiculous. She’s at home.’
‘I bet she rolled in at the exact time you did.’ I shook a finger at him, futile I know, before stomping from the flat with Mr Him hot on my heels.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ Mr Him furtively glanced around as I knocked on the neighbouring door. ‘Get back inside and stop being an idiot.’
Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Page 6