Posted: 19:20 3 Sazements
SxyGrrl: What an officious cow Meredith sounds. Isn’t there a childcare/after school club thingy at Holy Cross church? I’ve heard good things about it.
Ribtool: I heard the body hadn’t been buried long. Likely she was a victim of the same killer. Would appear we have a serial killer. I’m putting together a profile on my blog, check it out: “Rib Investigates”. BTW wasn’t the Holy Cross church featured in “Haunted in Eastcove”? Something about a nun and the creepy statue on the front, above the door, which moves its arms? Have they removed the old lift? It’s supposed to be haunted by some kid who was squashed in it.
Saze Monnivan: Rib, you’re like a font of all local knowledge, or dare I say… gossip?!
***
Thursday, 28th February 2013
Gain or Pain?
17:50
‘Why are you here?’ I tossed my coat on the sofa and hurled my handbag after it. The pungency of aftershave hung heavy in the air.
‘I’m taking my daughter bowling.’ Mr Him stretched back in his favourite chair.
‘Dad!’ Daughter screamed excitedly as she saw him. ‘I’ll get changed quickly. I am SO excited!’
I waited until Daughter had run to her room. ‘You were supposed to have taken her yesterday evening.’
Mr Him vehemently shook his head. ‘I said Thursday.’
I noticed the plate on the chair arm, littered with crumbs. ‘You said Wednesday.’
‘Saaayze, stop causing arguments. You always twist things onto me.’
My eyes practically popped out of my head. I took a deep breath and reminded Mr Him of his dictated visitation terms.
‘You’ve got it wrong.’ Mr Him folded his arms. ‘I said every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘You never mentioned Thursday. You said Wednesday.’
Mr Him shot me a filthy look. ‘Are you trying to wind me up on purpose?’
‘I’m not trying to do anything. You promised her you’d take her bowling last night, you let her down and made her cry. Did you forget about her?’
‘Oh, shut up! I told you, I said Thursday not Wednesday.’
‘You left our daughter in After School Club.’
‘You know I can’t collect her from there ‘cos I don’t finish work in time. Why’d you think I would?’
I had visions of banging Mr Him’s head against the wall but decided against it; scared his head would leave a hole in the wall which I’d only have to have repaired. ‘You said you would.’
Mr Him shrugged. ‘You misheard me.’
‘I’m not stupid. Besides you’re here now,’ I said pointedly. ‘It’s not even six. How long have you been here?’
Mr Him rolled his eyes. ‘No wonder I got bored with you. Have you always been such a grumpy cow?’
I lifted the plate off the chair arm. ‘Enjoy my cake, did you?’
Mr Him made a noise. ‘It was alright.’
‘Don’t come in here and eat my food.’
He huffed. ‘Lighten up, it was only two fucking muffins.’
I flicked him the finger.
‘Very mature. You’ll be receiving forms to fill in about how much I have to pay for maintenance. I thought we’d do things properly; don’t want to pay you any more than I should.’ He raised his voice and called for Daughter to pack a bag and her school uniform.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked in confusion. ‘Why does she need her uniform?’
‘She can stop over at mine tonight.’
‘Did you think about checking it with me first? Where are you living?’ I wanted him to admit it.
‘Why do you need to know?’
‘Because you’re taking my only child there.’
Mr Him reeled off the address.
I pretended to tap it into my mobile phone. ‘Are you living alone?’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’
‘I don’t want my child upset.’ Jealousy stabbed me from the inside. ‘You didn’t just rent your house; you’ve been renting it for ages haven’t you?’
Mr Him rose from the chair, the cushion remaining in the all too familiar bum-hollow.
‘That’s why you could never afford to contribute to our mortgage.’ Infuriated with him, I lifted my hand to slap him but he caught it mid-swipe. ‘All the time I struggled and saved and spent my money on looking after us, our family, while all you paid for was the TV subscription… you were paying rent on a house? We live in a flat! I moved out of my lovely little house to live here with you and this is how you repay me.’
‘Does it matter now if I was?’ Mr Him asked. ‘We’re both single. I’m not asking you about your love life.’
‘You’re not single and I don’t have a love life, you destroyed it!’
‘You’re keeping the flat so what are you complaining about?’ Mr Him shrugged nonchalantly. ‘It’s not like I’ve made you move out. I’m hiring a van at the weekend and I’ll come to collect my chair, stereo, CD’s, and the cooker.’
‘Pardon?’
‘The cooker,’ repeated Mr Him. ‘I paid for it.’
‘I paid for the chair you call yours.’
‘Keep the sodding chair then, you selfish cow.’
‘I don’t want the chair!’ I looked in horror at the offending item.
Mr Him yelled to Daughter to take her stuff outside and wait for him. ‘And all of my DVD’s, my wardrobe, the television from the bedroom and the DVD player.’
‘Anything else?’
‘The black and white dinner set with the matching cutlery,’ said Mr Him. ‘The kitchen table and the microwave.’
‘Is that it?’
Mr Him nodded. ‘And don’t forget, the cooker.’
‘You’re not having the dinner set. My parents bought it. You can have the kitchen table because I hate it anyway.’
‘You’ll still have the brown dinner set.’
‘I said no!’
‘You selfish bitch.’
‘Don’t get me started on name calling,’ I warned. ‘Take the cooker and deprive your daughter from a hot meal. I don’t know why you’re harping on about plates and bowls. I’m buying you out of the flat. You’ll have enough money for whatever you want.’
Mr Him pursed his lips. ‘I spoke to an estate agent, he reckons this place would fetch about twenty grand more than we mortgaged it for so that’s how much I want from you.’
‘Twenty thousand? I’d make a loss considering the length of time left on the mortgage and how much is owed. You’ll be the only one to gain.’
‘That’s how much I want.’
‘But—’
Daughter chose that moment to skip back in to the lounge and kiss me. ‘Love you, Mum!’ she yelled in my ear, hyped up with excitement. ‘Come on, Dad, bowling here we come!’
‘Grab some of those muffins for dessert,’ Mr Him told Daughter on the way out.
I waited until the door clicked shut before hurling the plate against the wall.
Posted: 18:15 1 Sazement
GeoffBD: Do you have a solicitor? I can help. I’ll email you my details. Do you want to find out how long he’s been renting his house for?
***
Detached Jealousy.
I couldn’t deny my envy fuel any longer. I swiftly swapped my work outfit for leather jacket, ripped skinnies, a thick jumper, and footstep silencing boots.
Crisp air pinched my nose and stars twinkled from a sky devoid of clouds. Pulling the wool sleeves of my jumper over my hands, I set off and timed the ten minute walk. Crossing to the opposite side of the street I slowed as the brick built, modern dwelling drew into view. Double glazed windows gleamed, vertical blinds shut tight against prying eyes, and porch doors led out to the neat front garden. Shrubbery ran either side of the property and a gravel driveway stretched from iron gates to a detached garage.
My old friend, Jealousy, and I retraced the steps home. I’d love to be able to afford a house, to give Daughte
r access to a private back garden. We could’ve had a house if only Mr Him had been prepared to contribute financially. Instead Daughter and I were relegated to a flat while he and his fancy piece paraded around a whole house on their own, and probably clad in flimsy-sexy-see-through-underwear, which may well be mine. No wonder he left me. I hadn’t worn flimsy-sexy-see-through-underwear for years because Mr Him never seemed interested. Maybe it was me he wasn’t interested in. OMG needed to pull myself off this pity-fest train ride before I ended up a total wreck.
Posted: 20:35 10 Sazements
K-ruler: Who’d wanna see u in underwear? U may as well kill urself ‘cos no-1’s wants u.
Saze Monnivan: Weirdo = blocked!
SxyGrrl: Sorry about the whole house thing. You’re better off without those sorts of lies shaping your life. On the subject of lies, have you read my blog? My sister phoned today begging forgiveness because my scumbag ex dumped her! He left her for her next door neighbour! Said she was too old (she’s 31) and his new girlfriend (she’s 24 and lives with her parents) “got” him more because they’re on the same wavelength.
Saze Monnivan: How old is he? Will you speak to your sister?
SxyGrrl: He’s 45! No, I’m not talking to her. I’ve not spoken to her since I found her in my bed two years ago. I hold a grudge!
GeoffBD: Should I be worried about our weekend date, “SxyGrrl”?! Did you receive my gift?
SxyGrrl: OMG, yes! I love the bracelet. It’ll look fab with the dress I’m wearing tomorrow evening. The black crystals match my shoes perfectly!
GeoffBD: Glad you like it. I’m not showing off but it’s 4 carats of diamonds set in platinum. You’re a size UK5.5 in footwear, yes?
SxyGrrl: Just picked myself up from the floor. I’m a complete idiot. What woman doesn’t know diamonds when she sees them? Obviously me. I don’t know what to say other than thanks but I’m giving it back. I can’t accept it. I don’t know how much it’s worth but it’s too much. Yes, that’s my shoe size, why?
GeoffBD: Please keep it. As for the rest… you’ll see tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it. Turn on your webcam and talk to me.
***
Vodka, Texts, Duvets, and Maybe’s.
I had a sizable measure of vodka considering Daughter was with her father. I thought about having lots and taking the following day off work to enjoy a duvet day. I thought about sending Mr Him a text telling him what a twat he was, then considered texting Mr Dry asking him to join me. Maybe he’d like some flimsy-sexy-see-through-underwear, on me that is not on himself. I decided to have a think about the maybes while I drank.
Vodka consumed = 3.
Texts sent to ex-partner = 2. One telling him to return the key to the flat immediately and another telling him what I think of him.
Texts sent to ex-neighbour, instructing niceness to Daughter = 1.
Texts received from ex-partner = 2. Both telling me to shove it.
Texts received from ex-neighbour = 0.
Texts sent to Mr Dry = 1.
Texts received from Mr Dry = 0.
Bouts of jealousy = 3 (re: Mr Him’s house, Daughter playing happy families without me, and the bracelet from “GeoffBD” to “SxyGrrl” – you lucky, lucky girl! Grrr! No really, I’m pleased for you!)
Posted: 23:10 0 Sazements
***
Friday, 1st March 2013
Chaise Rise.
I managed to wangle the day off work. The truth was, I couldn’t move without feeling as if I was on a merry-go-round. That’d teach me for consuming half a bottle of vodka followed by several glasses of wine.
As I nursed my hangover, the post arrived. The interview I went to had been a success and they had sent a job offer! Whoopee, so EXCITED! I telephoned the company to confirm I would accept the position and completed a resignation letter to give to my current employer.
The black cloud which had loomed overhead since Mr Him’s departure had finally burst and showered fresh beginnings. A new job working only three mornings per week meant the opportunity to spend more time with Daughter but the most fabulous thing of all was I’d be able to afford to buy Mr Him out of the flat. Knowing Mr Him would be totally jealous was pleasing but no matter how pleasurable it would be to see such jealousy twist his already thin lips I decided not to tell him. He’d try to steal all of the furniture and the clothes off my back if he thought I was going to be better off than him. I was sure he’d nicked a pair of my trainers. Bet he’d given them to his mistress. OMG wouldn’t want them back now—probably catch something. Like the inability to keep my legs together.
With the earnings from the new job I’d be able to buy a stylish chair to replace the old one Mr Him’s nabbing, plus a cooker, breakfast table and stools for the kitchen, and a new… I had to stop dreaming; it wasn’t a lot more money but I’d always fancied a chaise longue by the window in the dining room.
Posted: 11:00 5 Sazements
JessyHope: CONGRATS! BTW do you have the email address for the bloke who’s giving away diamond bracelets? Like to get myself some of that!
SxyGrrl: Hi, Saze! Well done on the new job. You deserve it after all the shit you’ve put up with! And Jessy-whatever-your-name-is: BACK OFF.
JessyHope: Whatever! I’ve found out his email address. Wasn’t hard to track him down on the net. After all he is the philanthropist Geoffrey Benedict Dorian Huntington, isn’t he? Only the most eligible bachelor in the whole of the England at the moment! Going to offer him a piece of Jessy-pie!
SxyGrrl: Of course he’s not Geoffrey blah blah blah. Why would someone like him be commenting on a tiny, local, blog? No offence meant, Saze! So back off my “GeoffBD” you money-grabbing harpy.
Saze Monnivan: None taken. Just looked up that Huntington guy, isn’t he supposed to be quite the recluse? From what I read he’s quite the recluse so unlikely to be commenting on MY blog. Don’t multi-millionaires have better things to do with their time?! Good luck on your date weekend “SxyGrrl”, even if it’s not with Mr Longwinded-Pretentious-Named-Millionaire-Man!
***
Cut-throat Casanova.
The local rag’s front article had more terrible news:
“GIRLS GIVEN PERMANENT SMILES
The body of Amy McDown, 19, was left to ripen with the vines in the morning sun.
Was the killer leaving the body as fertiliser? Eastcove Local has heard there was extreme trauma to the victim’s neck and reports state there was a wide wound to the victim’s mouth.
Was the killer disturbed before the body could be buried? This seems likely in light of the discovery of the second body.
We can exclusively reveal the second body is that of Ceri Ivor, 17, who disappeared at Christmas from an Eastcove party.
Already nicknamed the “Dicer and Slicer” by many locals, maybe the moniker of “Cut-throat Casanova” is more appropriate. Will we unearth more gruesome finds or is the killer a two-girl type of lover?”
Posted: 14:10 1 Sazement
Ribtool: I heard the first body was decapitated but has been played down to not “scare” us locals and both bodies were missing a finger. I only wish the news was more accurate. I don’t think the killer aimed to bury the body. I think the killer’s taunting us. It seems like a game to me. I’ve blogged thoughts on the discoveries. Check it out: “Rib Investigates: Horticultural Horrors”.
***
Cool School.
14:20
I’d pulled a tray of freshly baked lemon and cracked pepper rolls from the oven when the landline phone rang.
‘Ms Monnivan, we have an issue with your daughter. Can you come to the school immediately?’
‘What issue?’
The voice coughed lightly. ‘Swearing.’
Shame and I trod the hill, jealousy jumping out as I passed the turning into Mr Him’s new road. Embarrassment met me at the school gate and followed me to reception. Posters of the missing young women were on prominent display, one being noted as having been a previous student of the sch
ool. I signed the visitor book and was led to the headteacher’s office.
‘Ms Monnivan?’ The headteacher held out his hand.
I nodded and shook his hand, it felt cool. It suited him. Mr Cool. My eyes were drawn to the v of his crisp white shirt, tieless and unbuttoned by two. I had to tilt my head to return his gaze. He was younger than I had first thought, possibly a few years over myself. He gestured for me to take a seat opposite his desk.
‘I am saddened by today’s actions.’ Mr Cool removed his charcoal suit jacket, hooked it on a stand then manoeuvred his desk chair until it was facing me.
‘She never swears at home. I don’t condone it.’ My palms sweated nervously.
Mr Cool smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. What was wrong with me? I’d stopped paying attention to other men a long time ago, had that changed since my forced-upon-me single status? First I’d been goo-goo over Mr Dry now Mr Cool’s eyes were irresistible and I couldn’t help my own sneaking their way across his muscular shoulders. I forced myself to concentrate and asked where Daughter was.
‘She’ll join us soon. I wanted to check we were in agreement and showing a united front.’
I wondered why I’d never appreciated his good looks before. He had fashionably cut, sandy coloured hair which fell across his forehead adding light to his cool, blue eyes. No doubt he was probably married. I watched his hand as he reached for his desk telephone and punched in a number. He didn’t have a ring on. Hello… was that hope calling me?
Daughter sheepishly sidled into the room and sat next to me.
‘Why did you swear?’ I asked.
Lies Love Tells (Eastcove Lies Book 1) Page 9