by Wendy Reakes
“Oh. Is everything all right, Yvonne? You’re not moving out are you?” Tricia asked.
Yvonne laughed. “No, of course not, babe! I’m just getting rid of a few things. You know what it’s like. You amass so much stuff…it’s good to have a clean-out now and then.”
“How was the funeral? Everything went all right, I take it?”
“It was upsetting of course but we had a marvellous turn-out. Well, I’d better go...You won’t forget about the boxes, will you?”
Yvonne looked down at the list in her little red book, running the tip of her pen down the column of ticks on the right. She’d worked out that it should take her about a week to pack everything up. She’d make a start tomorrow. She made a little calculation and, taking her earring off, she picked up the phone once more.
“Manchester Removals, how can I help you today?” the voice asked.
Yvonne wondered why companies all sound so ghastly American these days. “I’d like to arrange the transportation of some boxes from an address in Didsbury,” she said. “For next Monday. They’re going to the Lake District.”
As soon as Yvonne finalised the arrangements and she’d placed the receiver onto the cradle, she saw Frank’s car pull up in the driveway. She clipped her chunky gold earring back on and smoothed her hair back. She put her little red book into her handbag and put the lid back on her Faber-Castell pen. She ran her hands down her pale blue slinky dress and sat down at her desk to begin writing a letter.
Dear Lance, it began.
Chapter 61
Eva Long,Frank’s long-time mistress served two mugs of tea to the men in orange vests. They were working on the road opposite her café in Shepherd's Bush. “There you go, boys.” Eva said. “How about a nice biscuit?” Eva liked to promote extras; it upped the money in the till and every penny counted as far as Eva was concerned.
Eva Long had worked for Frank Warner for over thirty-years. She’d applied for the manager’s job when Frank had first acquired the property in the Bush. She had only been twenty at the time. She was still living with her parents in the flat above her mother’s newsagents over the road from the café. When she saw the advert in her mother’s shop window for ‘café owner seeking manager, no catering experience necessary’, she promptly applied. Frank told her years later, he’d taken her on because he liked her attitude and her hard and fast principles; to make as much money for him as she possibly could; that loyalty was everything, and that she didn’t approve of people stealing from their employers.
But it wasn’t just her honesty that got her the job, at least not as far as Frank Warner was concerned. It was her hair. Eva had the longest hair he had ever seen. Jet black, it cascaded over her hips when it was loose but she always wore it in a long plait down her back. Frank called her his little Rapunzel and when she sat atop him, he said, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair.” And that was what she’d do, unravelling it slowly, letting it cascade all over his fat naked, hairless body.
Eva became Frank’s mistress from the first week. He was already married at the time but even after his divorce, she still agreed to a non-marriage arrangement. Even when he remarried, twice, she still stood by him, knowing that when the honeymoon was over he’d be back. And he always was.
Eva introduced him to his third wife over ten-years ago. She had invited Yvonne down from Manchester for her fortieth birthday with the intention of introducing them. Eva knew Frank would fall for Yvonne’s ‘charms’ and with Frank out of the way for a while, Eva was able to carry on with her own affair with another of Frank’s employees, Benny. Benny used to run his own café in Ealing, Benny’s Bites. When Frank sold it out from under him five-years ago so that someone could turn it into a fancy restaurant, Benny, who’d never recovered from the loss of his beloved café, keeled over with a heart attack one month later. He died cradled in Eva’s arms.
Chapter 62
Yvonne waited for Frank to leave before she picked up the phone once more. “Eva,” she said, “Its Yvonne, babe. How are you?”
“Fine, love! It was so good to see you at the funeral.” Eva said. “I thought it went well. You certainly had a good turn-out.”
“We did, babe. We did. Thanks for coming, darling. It meant a lot to me and Frank having our friends there.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Yvonne love. I’ve known Benji since he was born. Do you remember when we lived in old Moss Side? God, I was glad to get out of that place,” Eva reminisced. “Funny isn’t it, Yvonne. You move from gangster land and your son gets blown up in a posh place like Covent Garden. You wouldn’t credit it would you, love?”
“Eva, I’ve got a favour to ask.” Yvonne was annoyed at her friend for bringing up the past. She sometimes wondered if Eva did it on purpose just to goad her. For her fortieth birthday, Eva had presented her with a framed, signed, black and white photograph of Bette Davis. She'd bought it on some web site called EBay and Yvonne thought it to be very tactless of Eva. It was because of that cruel dig about her past that Yvonne got herself a computer and learned how to use it, just enough to set herself up as a new Ebayer to sell the picture back.
That was how Yvonne had been accidentally introduced to the world of on-line auctions and how she came to buy a cottage in the Lake District to use as storage for her ever-growing supply of haute couture accessories, how she employed a local lad to sell on her behalf, and how she opened up a secret account to deposit the money. Ironically and unfortunately necessary, opening it under her real name of Bette Davis.
“What’s the favour, love? Anything, name it,” Eva said on the phone.
“The key I gave you,” Yvonne answered. “To the flat above the salon. Have you still got it?”
“Of course, love. You know me; old trustworthy Eva.”
“Yeah, right! Can you send it to me? I seem to have lost mine.”
“I’ll send it immediately, love. But how on earth have you been managing without your little massages?”
Yvonne wondered if Eva was being sarcastic. “Well, I only lost it yesterday. I must have dropped it out of my bag, I can’t find it anywhere.”
“But didn’t you tell me you had another one in a safety deposit box somewhere, love? You haven’t forgotten have you? I know what it’s like when your memory goes.”
“Oh, um, yes, but I’ve lost the key to that too.”
“Won’t the bank have a spare?”
She was starting to get on Yvonne’s nerves. “Can you send it, babe, or not?”
“I’ll post it straight away. Always happy to help, you know me!”
“Yes, I do.” Yvonne placed the receiver onto the cradle, clipped her earring back on her lobe and smoothed her hair back over her ears once more.
Yvonne hadn’t lost her key. She would never do that. She wanted the key back from her friend because she’d seen Eva with Frank at Benjamin’s funeral. They hadn’t known she was watching them. They were too close together to see anyone else! Yvonne shivered when she saw them and decided there and then that she needed to get that key back.
There was too much at risk not to.
The next day in the flat above the salon, Yvonne put the key into the lock and let herself in. She’d nearly finished! She’d just spent the last three days packing everything up. Louis Vuitton handbags, Dolce & Gabbana shoes, Dior jewellery, Pierre Cardin sunglasses, Hermes wallets, Balenciaga belts and scarves…the list was endless. Every item, still tagged, unworn and most of it predating 1994, going back ten-years. Precious, timeless and extremely desirable, just like her, Yvonne chuckled to herself as she walked through the flat with a spring in her step. She went straight to the bedroom door and let herself in. There she stopped and sucked in her breath as she beheld the sight before her. Every box she’d lovingly packed, taped and labelled had been opened. Her precious stock of bags, shoes and jewellery; everything that had once been catalogued and lovingly wrapped is now spilling out everywhere. White tissue paper, crumpled and used, spread around the room l
ike remnants of snow over discarded vintage merchandise.
Incredulous, and struck dumb with shock, Yvonne looked past the mess to a mound on the bed asleep under the duvet. She saw long black hair spilling over the pillow and a face with its mouth agape, snoring and spluttering.
“AAEhhhhhh!!” The scream tore from Yvonne’s throat, painful and raw. Her life flashed before her like a black and white silent movie, with Bette Davis in the lead role. She couldn’t believe her eyes. She felt violated! There, sitting up in bed, her ebony hair tumbling over her naked breasts, was Eva Long, yawning, stretching and smiling a welcome smile. “Who screamed?” she said.
“Who screamed?” Startled by her own rage, Yvonne leaped over spilled boxes, trampling leather, gold and silver underfoot, and as she reached the end of the bed, she pounced on top of Eva’s naked body. “Who do you think screamed, you…you…cow!” Yvonne screeched, her rage unleashed as her claws projected and scraped down Eva’s fleeing back. Yvonne meshed her fingers into the ragged lengths of Eva’s crowning glory and pulled until Eva’s head rolled backwards against the downy pillow. As Yvonne’s tight skirt rode up her thighs, her heels caught the sheets, and as Eva fought back, -the assault now registered- the pair tumbled over the side of the bed onto a cushion of Luis Vuitton silk scarves and soft kid gloves.
Spent, Yvonne pushed Eva away as the concern for her stock leaped back up her list of priorities. “Get off them,” she screamed as she forced her to move off the precious merchandise, clearing a space on the carpet for Eva’s big bottom to sit on. “You can’t sit on Chanel,” she yelled slapping Eva’s bare behind. Eva came to a stop and Yvonne, her energy all used up, sat back against the bed and looked about the room. “What have you done?” Her voice caught in her throat, still stinging from the scream she’d expelled only seconds before. “What are you doing here?”
Eva swept her hair back from her face. It was sticking to saliva still on her cheek from her blissful sleep. “Well, good morning to you too,” she said. Yvonne wanted to gouge her eyes out. Eva pulled a Hermes wrap from a box to cover herself up and Yvonne let her, since she was sick of the sight of her fat nakedness. “I thought I’d bring the key up myself. That’s what friends do, Yvonne. They go out of their way for their mates.”
“Really? So why didn’t you come to the house? Why did you come here?” Yvonne wanted to see her get out of that one.
“I was being discreet, darling. I didn’t think you’d want Frank knowing about your little love nest.” Eva looked around the room. “So, is all this stuff real?”
“No, they’re all repro’s,” Yvonne said, dripping sarcasm.
Eva picked up a Christian Dior evening clutch bag with little black sequins twinkling in the light. She fingered the tiny white tag at the side. “Twelve hundred, that’s a lot of money for a fake.”
“Of course it’s real!” Yvonne snatched it from her and held the beloved bag against her chest. “Everything in this room is real. The only thing that’s fake is your nose.”
Yes, Eva had a nose job many years ago when plastic surgery was scarce and cost an absolute fortune. She’d used some of the money she’d got from selling her mother’s newsagents when she died. The rest of the funds were put away in an account somewhere, gaining interest, and waiting for the day where she would need to access it very quickly. “What is all this stuff, Yvonne? What’s been going on?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but first you have to tell me, honestly, if you’re sleeping with my husband.” Yvonne had had enough of all the ducking and diving. Things were getting out of control and she needed to up her game somewhat.
Eva laughed once. “Sleeping with him?” she said, as the irony in her tone spoke volumes. “I’ve been doing a lot more than that, darling, and I’ve been doing it for nigh on thirty-years.” Tears welled up in her eyes as her own life flashed by, mourning the loss of her Benny. She looked at Yvonne again. “Didn’t you know?” she asked with disbelief.
“I had my suspicions, but to be honest, I couldn’t have cared less, I still don’t. The man repulses me. He’s vile and uncouth and I hate the smell of him when he hasn’t showered.”
Eva laughed. “Yes, I know what you mean.” She’d seen a vulnerability to Yvonne that she hadn’t seen for years, not since the day she told Eva she was pregnant at fifteen when they’d both lived in Moss Side. Eva scanned Yvonne’s face as she watched her looking around at all her things scattered about. “So what’s all this stuff?”
“It’s my security. My insurance,” Yvonne answered. She looked at her lifelong friend as if she was the only person in the world she could confide in. She was! “You know what I’ve been through, how I’ve suffered because of all the men in my life. I wasn’t prepared to let it happen again. I knew if things didn’t work out with Frank, he’d leave me with nothing. I had to put a plan in place to safeguard that.”
“But how?” Eva asked. “How did you amass so much?”
“Oh, this is only a fraction of the stuff I collected.” Yvonne tilted her head back against the crumpled bed. “I realised ten years ago that Frank never checked his statements. I didn’t think I’d get found out until his accountant Paddy Johnson invited me in for a private meeting. He knew what I was doing. He couldn’t very well miss all the bills coming in.” She shrugged. “I had to do some things for him, to pay for his silence.”
“What sort of things?” Eva asked naively. Yvonne lowered her eyes in shame. “Oh, I see. Sorry! But what are you going to do with it all?”
“Sell it,” Yvonne answered. “I suppose you could call it a type of money laundering when you think about it.” Yvonne chuckled. “Buy the stuff on credit card and sell it on EBay for cash. You know what? I think Frank would even approve, if it wasn’t his money I was taking. But, do you know what, babe?” Yvonne looked directly at her friend. “I prefer to call it ‘payment’. Payment for services rendered.”
Suddenly, the two women stopped talking when they heard the sound of a door closing with a loud bang. Sitting on the floor among the treasures, Yvonne and Eva stared silently at each other. “What was that?” Eva asked in a whisper.
Yvonne stood up while Eva reached for her clothes strewn over the bed and the floor, grappling for garments as if her life depended on it. In turn, Yvonne climbed over boxes, broken in her momentary loss of temper when she’d jumped on Eva, and moved towards the door.
The hallway outside was empty. The only thing that remained was the smell of stale cigars and Frank Warner’s sweat.
Chapter 63
Yvonne sneaked in the back door twelve hours later.
She didn’t normally go in that way. It was access to the kitchen and Yvonne considered using the back entrance to be a little beneath her dignity. “What’s the point of having a big classy house like this, if I have to use the tradesman’s entrance?” she often remarked. Tonight though, it was vital if she was going to get past him; if she was going to quietly climb the stairs, if she was going to sneak into her bedroom, into her closet and open her safe tucked away at the back behind her shoes. The safe held everything Frank knew about: passport, photographs, wedding certificate and some jewellery she’d kept for herself, just so she could show Frank that she spent his money to decorate herself with. The safety deposit box at the bank held all the things Frank didn’t know about: deeds to the salon, a spare key to the flat, her birth certificate and a letter for her son, Ben, which was no longer needed.
She emptied the safety deposit box today, in the company of Eva, her long, and now necessary trusted, lifetime friend. “We’ve got to get away, Eva,” she’d said, after she realised Frank Warner had heard everything they’d talked about that morning. “If he knows how we really feel, he’s going to be out for revenge and we won’t survive it.”
Yvonne had been shaking with anticipation as she’d planned her imminent departure. “Go back to London. Get some things together and get out. Leave everything you won’t need and don’t leave any traces behind because he will com
e looking for you.” She pulled her cheque book out of her bag, “Look, here’s some money.” She wrote out a single cheque. “It’ll be enough for you to get started again.”
As Eva left with a cheque for five-thousand pounds in her pocket, Yvonne planned her own getaway. She and Eva had repacked all the boxes in the flat, albeit, the care Yvonne had put in when she’d initially packed them was somewhat lacking. Everything was thrown in the boxes and taped up again with Yvonne’s self-printed labels from her home computer. She’d already spoken to the transport company. She had used them many times before so she milked her ‘good customer’ hook to talk them into coming immediately. Yvonne wanted her stuff out of there straight away; she was taking no chances!
That just left her with some papers to collect from the house, and some sentimental items that she’d kept from when Benjamin was a baby; a lock of hair, a green painted footprint and his first lost tooth.
It was dark outside with no moon to guide her as she put her key into the lock on the back door. Funny it was open. She crept through the kitchen into the hall and as she walked quietly past the lounge, she heard a voice.
“You’re back then.” His tone was threatening and dull-sounding. Yvonne froze. Then, without further pause, as her survival instincts kicked in, she stuck out her chin, smoothed her hair back over her ears and walked confidently into the room.
“Hi, babe,” she said. He was sitting next to the real-flame gas fire, smoking a thin Havana. The fire was lit even though it was the middle of July. He has his legs crossed and his feet propped up on the pink pouf. His checked wool slipper was balanced on the end of his toes as his foot rocked back and forth.
“I was wondering if you’d have the guts to come back,” he said.