‘This room is awesome!’ I pushed open the mahogany door. Adam trailed in behind me and stared at the dartboard and snooker table. He ran his hand along the bar.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ I grinned and pointed to the throne. ‘Fancy role-playing a little warrior on queen, one-on-one?’
His shoulders gave a little movement up and down. ‘S’okay, I suppose. A bit flash. I mean, what’s wrong with going down the pub?’
‘Nothing! But it means you can invite your friends over. In fact tonight I’m having the neighbours over for a small party, including Jonny Winsford’s wife from next door. Why don’t you stay? We’re going to use the hot tub.’
Adam stared at me in a strange way.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘You sounded so serious on the phone about seeing this job through and making some extra money baking – I almost felt like giving you a second chance. But you’ve obviously spent all morning drinking coffee in that ridiculous outdoor Wendy house and tonight you’re living it up.’ He shook his head. ‘I should have known better. All of this… For you it’s just one big laugh.’
My chest tightened. ‘Adam… You’ve got it wrong. Jess and me, we’re totally serious about…’ See? Me having to justify myself again – being away from him had made me realise just how often he forced me to do that.
‘Save it!’ he said and headed past the mahogany door and into the hallway. He gazed at the chandelier again. ‘It’s all too over the top for me.’ A muscle in his cheek twitched. ‘But then some people like to show off that they’ve got money.’
I grabbed his hand again. ‘We could have a place this big, one day, if you’d just let me chase my dream. You could furnish it how you wanted. Even build your own gym. The bookings I’ve already got could be just the beginning…’ Uh oh – I was rambling.
‘People like us don’t belong in houses like this.’ He sniffed. ‘I like Luton. It’s real and if it’s good enough for my mum and dad… I mean, I just saw a man outside dressed up in clothes brighter than a fruit bowl, carrying a bloody weird-looking dog under his arm.’
‘It’s a micro-pig – called Frazzle,’ I said and gave a nervous giggle, despite feeling as heavy as the Titanic inside.
‘I rest my case.’ He sighed and ran a finger under my eye. ‘It doesn’t suit you here, babe. You’re hardly getting any sleep.’
The kitchen patio doors banged and he jumped.
‘That’s because… I know it sounds bonkers, but this place is haunted,’ I whispered. ‘I’ve made contact with the ghost. It’s…’
‘A ghost?’ Adam snorted. ‘Listen to yourself! What planet are you on? Too many trashy magazines and rubbish telly, that’s your problem.’
‘I was, um, joking,’ I stuttered. Aarggh! I shouldn’t have mentioned Walter – Adam didn’t believe in astrology, let alone the supernatural. ‘Don’t go! We can sort this out. The money from the hen party I’m catering for will pay our food bills for a month.’
‘Hi Kimmy!’ said Luke, emerging from the kitchen.
Oh great.
‘Didn’t think you’d mind me letting myself back in,’ he said. ‘I left something in your bedroom.’
Adam’s face flushed purple.
‘It’s not what it sounds like,’ I said to Adam. My throat hurt as he turned to go.
‘Goodbye, Kimmy,’ said my boyfriend – my Ex – in a tight voice. He yanked open the front door and slammed it shut after he left.
Chapter 18
‘Why are you trying to cause trouble,’ I’d hollered at Luke, fists curled, seconds after Adam stormed off.
I sighed and blocked out the memory, trying instead to focus on my party evening. Hot tub? Ready. Hair straightened? Yes, even though the steamy water would frizz it within seconds. Lip gloss applied? Of course, despite the imminent onslaught of snacks and fizzy drinks.
Alone, I waited for the guests to arrive, my mind – my aching chest – incapable of wiping out Adam’s disastrous visit, hours earlier. There’d be no point discussing it with anyone. Jess and Melissa had problems of their own and if I kept it to myself, it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened. My chin quivered. All my plans to impress him had been for nothing.
‘What is it about me that you hate?’ I’d said next to Luke. ‘Because clearly you’re well intent on ruining my life. You run hot, you run cold… I can’t keep up. Why deliberately cause trouble between Adam and me?’
‘Don’t be so dramatic,’ he’d calmly replied, whilst I considered baking him cupcakes “accidentally” made with yew seeds (they’re poisonous, according to Jess).
‘I recognised him straightaway,’ Luke continued. ‘He’s the guy from the photo in your bedroom. I bet he’s the one who thought you were mad setting up your own business. What with his symmetrical, safe haircut and uptight voice… You’re better off without him; I know his type and bet he’s never taken a risk in his life.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘And he smells like toilet cleaner.’
‘That’s his aftershave and no he doesn’t!’ I snapped, a titch annoyed that I’d kind of felt relieved at Adam’s departure – it meant I could be myself again. Not that I’d stop loyally defending my boyfriend to smug Luke. ‘Honestly, you’ve only met Adam for a few minutes, how could you possibly have a clue what he’s like?’ Toddler-style, I felt my bottom lip jut out.
‘Solid. Reliable. Afraid of change. My sister’s husband is similar and always tried to put me off striking out on my own. Now I work for myself whilst he’s still slogging his guts out at a supermarket.’
If only Adam had turned up when I was cleaning the house from top to bottom – or even better, showing some prospective buyer around.
‘You all right?’ asked Jess as she came into the kitchen. ‘Your face looks all funny.’
‘Never better,’ I said, brightly, even though, inside, every fibre of me flinched as I recalled Adam’s disdain. ‘You sure you don’t mind this get-together? If you’re not up to it, I can phone Terry and Melissa. It’s not too late to cancel.’
‘I’m fine. As long as we get tidied up in time for Murphy’s visit tomorrow morning. The last thing I need this week is to find myself homeless again.’
‘Has Dana been on your back all day?’
‘Yeah, more than usual. I was amazed that she let me off half an hour early for the doctor’s.’ Jess had just stepped out of the shower and her bobbed red hair was wrapped up in a towel turban. I wrinkled my nose. She’d clearly been using her homemade vinegar and lemon shampoo.
‘Did she want to know what was wrong, every time you threw up?’
‘I’ve just let her assume I’ve caught some kind of bug. She had the cheek to ask if I’d been out boozing last night.’
I neatened a plate of sandwiches and popped a festive sage and onion flavoured crisp into my mouth. ‘You’ve got to put her in the picture sometime,’ I said, softly. ‘Why didn’t you tell me about your appointment? I’d have come too.’
She half-smiled. ‘Maybe you could come to the first scan – although you’ll have to go out if they want to prod my bits.’
‘Talking of which…’ I grinned. ‘Take a look at these.’ I opened a Tupperware box and shoved it under her nose. Inside was an array of hen party cakes, some bearing marzipan willies and liquorice whips and handcuffs.’
Jess grinned back at me. ‘Classy.’
I put the lid back on. ‘Have you got a due date?’
Jess sat down at the breakfast island, looking, if anything, slimmer than normal, in a knitted burgundy dress. The only indication that something was different was the pronounced bags under her eyes. ‘I won’t have an exact one until my first scan, but the doctor reckoned it would be around the twenty-fourth of July.’
‘Wow.’
‘I know. It’s really going to happen, isn’t it? A date makes it so much more real.’
‘I thought of a great way to choose a name, you know – combine your favourite author with your lucky number like the Beckhams did for thei
r daughter, Harper Seven. You could call your kid… what’s that author you like? Stieg something. And you were born on the sixth – there: Stieg Six.’
She snorted in disgust.
‘It’s a good idea if you get stuck for names,’ I said, airily. ‘Although I can’t decide which works best for me… Snooki – or Jordan – Four… What about naming the baby after fruit like Gwyneth Paltrow? She chose Apple, so how about Kiwi? Or Guava! Talk about exotic. Or Blackberry? Hmm, yes, even better, name them after some cool phone. LG Cookie sounds awesome.’
She stared at me as if I was from another planet. ‘It was only an idea,’ I said hurriedly, glad that at that moment the doorbell rang.
Jess headed upstairs, muttering something about hot tub parties wasting energy – all that water, all that heat…
For her sake, I waited until her bedroom door closed. A potentially hysterical Melissa recovering from the day’s tabloids, was the last thing Jess needed. I opened the door.
‘Terry!’
My neighbour strolled in, carrying a plastic bag of clinking bottles. He took off a long burgundy mac to reveal a bright turquoise shirt and sky-blue trousers. I couldn’t wait to see his swimming costume. A holdall hung over his shoulder, presumably containing his trunks and towel.
‘Is she here, yet?’ he whispered.
‘Melissa? No. Maybe she won’t come after all,’ I said and hung his mac on the mahogany coatstand.’
He adjusted his golfing cap. ‘Does my head look bald in this?’
I grinned.
‘I only ask, because those paparazzi fellows were clicking away. Got to look my best if I’m going to appear in Infamous.’
Giggling, I led him through to the kitchen.
‘I’ll open the champers,’ he said and pulled a bottle out of the plastic bag. ‘It’s chilled, and a great vintage.’
The doorbell rang again and we raised our eyebrows at each other. Perhaps those cameramen wanted a close-up of the Winsfords’ trendsetting neighbours? The photos’ tag-line could be: “Melissa seeks solace with the trend-setting Harpenden Set.”
I rummaged around in a drawer and drew out a corkscrew, then handed it to Terry. Deep breath. I straightening my halter bikini top, underneath my sparkly cardigan, and headed into the hall. I pinched my cheeks to give them a good colour. Apparently that’s what girls did in the days when they weren’t allowed to wear make-up, according to this racy old-fashioned drama on the telly.
Pout in place, tummy pulled in, I opened the front door. So much for having my photo taken. Melissa knocked me to one side as she barged past. She wore diamante-edged sunglasses, a sporty cap pulled down over her face, tight grey jeans and a sequinned pashmina. From the bottom of the drive, the photographers hollered at her to give them just one decent shot.
I shut the door and exhaled, muffin top back in place. She’d already dumped her sports bag and headed for the kitchen. I followed her in.
‘Melissa, this is Terry, he lives at–’
‘I know, darling. Number ten. Cream Beetle. Funny-looking dog. We’ve never actually said hello.’
‘It’s a micro-pig,’ he said and beamed, staring at Melissa, looking as if Christmas had come several days early.
‘Sounds technical,’ she said. ‘Robotic toys look more lifelike every year.’
‘No… Micro as in small,’ Terry said.
‘Nice,’ she said in a flat voice. A small sigh escaped her lips. ‘Any chance of a drink, and I don’t mean coffee or tea?’
There was a loud pop and I held the glasses as Terry filled them up. Melissa knocked hers back in one and held out her glass for a top-up. Terry raised an eyebrow at me, as he gave her a refill.
‘So, Kimmy,’ he said to me, ‘are we watching TV first?’
I nodded and carried some nibbles into the lounge, with my new friends following.
‘Love your watch, Melissa,’ said Terry, as we sat down, him in one of the green armchairs, me and Melissa on the sofa. ‘Gucci?’
She put her glass down on the long oak coffee table. ‘Here.’ She took it off. ‘I don’t want it anymore. You have it.’
Terry took off his golf cap and ran a hand over his head before taking it from her. After fingering the smooth face, he handed it back. ‘Did Jonny give it to you?’ he said, gently.
A tear rolled out from under her sunglasses.
‘Ken, my partner of fifteen years, he ran off with a twenty year old shelf-stacker last year,’ said Terry. ‘The local charity shop did really well. How was I to know he hadn’t wanted me to donate his favourite suit or gold-plated cigarette lighter?’
Melissa took off her glasses. Her eyes were puffy; nose swollen.
‘We’re so sorry about this latest tabloid story,’ I said. ‘How’s it going? What’s Jonny said?’
‘We had a big row,’ she gulped. ‘He couldn’t believe I’d been stupid enough to throw out his medicine boxes and that pregnancy magazine; said I should have more trust, that he was only comforting that bimbo in the photo, a caddy’s girlfriend who’d just been dumped. Jonny offered to see her home as she was in such a state. He always was a gentleman. It’s one of the first things that attracted me to him.’
A gentleman? Since when did chivalry include sticking your tongue down someone’s throat?
‘He reckons I drink too much, nag about having kids and most of the time look miserable as hell. How could he say all those things, after everything I’ve done to support him? I tried to explain it was hard to make friends. Apart from Kate, the local women believe I’m up myself, whereas the top birdies don’t think I’m good enough.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘I’ve really tried hard – since we moved here, I’ve thrown countless coffee mornings, themed dinners, fundraisers… Ask me anything about booking caterers and venues, I’m you’re woman.’
‘Well, we like you,’ I said and squeezed her arm. ‘It can’t be that bad, surely? Perhaps you just intimidate the women at the club?’
She shrugged. ‘If only Jonny was around a bit more. We could socialise as a couple. I can’t even get any sort of job as I’m expected to drop everything and be there with him on all his tours. That’s one reason I did the DVD. It’s something I’ve achieved. On my own.’
‘What about Jeanie, his first wife?’ I said. ‘Couldn’t she help you make new friends? She lives near doesn’t she? And you get on so well.’
Melissa gave a sarcastic laugh. ‘You still believe everything you read in the gossip mags? Infamous twists the truth, darling. Jeanie hates me. Can’t say I blame her.’
‘No!’ My mouth stayed open.
‘Have you told Jonny how you feel?’ said Terry. ‘I still don’t know to this day the real reason Ken left. Sit your husband down. Talk it through. Perhaps you can work it out?’
‘I’ve tried – but every time I complain about the smallest thing, he goes mad. Says I should be grateful, that I’d be nowhere without him. Says he bought my parents a new house, helped my sister through college – makes me feel ungrateful.’
Blimey. Whoever knew money could cause so many problems. My stomach twisted as I thought of Adam – the only thing he wanted to do was work his guts out to look after me and our future together.
‘How did you meet him?’ I asked.
She sipped her drink. ‘I wasn’t bright enough to go to university and had no clue as to what to do when I left school. There wasn’t much work around, so I went to stay with relatives in Ireland – my aunt there found me a job waitressing at a nearby golf club. They hosted some minor charity tournament. Jonny was visiting and we fell head over heels.’ She smiled. ‘I thought he was a caddy to start with.’
‘Can’t believe I’ve never heard that story before,’ said Terry.
Come to think about it, I’d not seen much in the magazines about Melissa’s past.
‘You know, Jonny started off his career by shagging, for a really modest wage.’
My drink went down the wrong way and I spluttered.
‘That’s what
they call collecting the balls from practice areas. He never let on about his success until our first kiss.’ Her eyes misted over. ‘I didn’t believe him when he said he was some hot-shot international golfer.’ She half-smiled. ‘I don’t talk much about my life before Jonny. Unlike some of the other wives, I… I haven’t been to public school, or college, or had any sort of career. I’m not an actress or model… I’m not even a mum. All I am is Jonny Winsford’s wife.’
‘That’s not true!’ exclaimed Terry, chubby cheeks flushing with indignation. ‘Melissa Winsford is a fashionista!’
‘You’re a DVD goddess,’ I said. ‘The fittest birdie out there! Infamous’ “Hottest Celebrity Legs of the Year 2013”.’ I squeezed her hand. ‘Come on. Let me get you a plateful of food and we’ll switch on the Celebrity Goss. Maybe you can give us the insider’s view if any of your mates are on it?’
‘I’m not in the mood for a programme that laughs at the lives of people like me. Not today anyway. Not when everyone must think I’m the biggest joke of the hour.’
She had a point. Stupid me. I hoped my foot wouldn’t spend the whole evening in my mouth.
‘I wouldn’t even know if Jonny was having an affair,’ she mumbled. ‘He’s always on his phone and is away for days at a time on tours. Talk about opportunity.’ She looked me dead in the eye. ‘What do you think? You follow celebrity break-ups. Does he seem innocent?’
‘I…’
‘Flashdance is on the other side,’ said Terry, smiling. ‘Why don’t we watch that and then drown our sorrows in the hot tub?’
‘S’pose I’ve got nothing to lose,’ she said. ‘Beats fighting my way back through the paparazzi, just to return to an empty house. Jonny stormed off; sounded like he burnt rubber doing so. Pity he didn’t knock over a couple of those parasites.’
‘All right if I help myself to the buffet?’ asked Jess. She was at the lounge door, wet hair hanging limply, book in hand.
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