Lipstick and Lies

by Viggiano, Debbie

  Dylan visibly slumped. ‘You don’t understand,’ he mumbled. A tear suddenly rolled down one cheek. It plopped onto the table. He sniffed noisily.

  ‘Try me,’ I said gently.

  Dylan took a deep breath. ‘I’m being teased. At school. Ridiculed.’

  ‘In what way?’ I was baffled. Nobody had given the twins a hard time when Eddie had been born.

  ‘It’s Richard Clegg. The class bully. He’s a prat. He overheard me saying how I couldn’t wait to help Mum. With the baby. You know – stuff. Like bathing Rosie. I was talking to Katie Wells about it. And Katie was being all girlie and saying things like, “How cute, I’m so jealous,” and then I told Katie that I’d saved up my pocket money and bought a teddy from Mothercare. Next thing I know is Richard Clegg – on my way home from school – scooping up a load of wet leaves and shoving them down the back of my neck,’ Dylan took a shuddering gasp, ‘and there were some worms caught up in the leaves Cass and–’ he faltered. Looked embarrassed. ‘I don’t like worms. I went mental.’

  ‘What, mental as in punching Richard Clegg’s lights out?’

  ‘No,’ Dylan looked ashamed. ‘Mental as in having a hissy fit like one of the girls. I began screaming. Grabbing at my back. Trying to pull everything out, but too frightened to touch the leaves in case my hand came in contact with worms.’ Dylan paused. His face wrestled with emotions while he struggled for composure.

  ‘Weren’t you walking with anybody? Someone who could have helped you?’

  ‘No. I was on my own.’

  ‘So what did you do next?’

  ‘I had no choice but to strip off down to my waist. In front of all the passing traffic. Richard Clegg thought it was hysterical. He and his mates – the class Chavs – cracked up. And now they all call me gay. Tell me I’m like a big girl and want to be a Mummy because I bought something at Mothercare. And he’s started calling Mum and Dad names. Disgusting names. Because they still,’ he broke off, ‘you know.’

  ‘Have a love life,’ I concluded.

  Dylan nodded. Studied his fingernails. ‘It’s embarrassing Cass. I’m embarrassed. If Mum and Dad hadn’t had Rosie, if things had stayed as they were,’ he shrugged, ‘then I wouldn’t have been excited about it. Wouldn’t have got caught out about Mothercare. Wouldn’t have had muck shoved down my back or behaved like a cry-baby. Wouldn’t now be listening to daily filth–’ he broke off. Steered the conversation down a different route. ‘Seeing Mum struggling to feed Rosie,’ Dylan closed his eyes, ‘just set Richard Clegg’s voice off in my head. Horrible words. I can’t tell you Cass.’

  ‘Do Livvy and Toby know about this?’ I asked. ‘Have they seen you being bullied?’

  ‘No. Nobody sees. Apart from Richard Clegg’s mates. He’s clever. Picks his moments. Makes it look like we’re having fun. Being boys,’ he spat.

  ‘Well you must report him Dylan.’

  ‘I can’t do that. It would just make things worse.’

  ‘You must be twice the size of Richard Clegg. Can’t you beat him up?’ Heavens Cass, what are you suggesting here? I blanched. Is this the sort of advice a sensible adult should be handing out to an eleven year old?

  ‘I’d love to beat him up. And yes I am miles taller than Richard Clegg. But he’s wider. And heavier. He’d flatten me Cass. Please don’t tell Mum about it. She’d only worry. Or Dad. He’d tell the school and then things would go nuclear.’

  I nodded my head slowly. ‘Okay. But I am going to tell my bunch. I want them sticking to you like glue Dylan. Don’t allow yourself to be alone with this bully. All right? And no more walking home either.’

  ‘I don’t want Mum picking me up,’ Dylan looked horrified. ‘Richard Clegg might shout out foul names to her.’

  ‘All right. In which case I’ll drop you home.’

  ‘But that will take you out of your way Cass.’

  ‘Only by a few minutes. It’s not a problem.’

  ‘Can this be our secret?’

  I hesitated. If the boot were on the other foot, would I want Nell not telling me? The answer was categorically no. However, Nell was currently hormonal, knackered and adjusting to life with a newborn. ‘It can be our secret only if you promise to let me regularly know what is happening and to allow Liv, Toby, Petra and Jonas to help. If things get worse though, then obviously I’ll have to speak up. Okay?’

  Dylan nodded. ‘Okay,’ he mumbled. ‘I feel a bit better having shared the problem with you.’

  ‘Good,’ I leant across the table and ruffled his hair. ‘A problem shared is a problem halved. Meanwhile, how about you go and say sorry to your Mum and Dad while I finish my coffee and biscuits.’

  Dylan gave me a watery smile. ‘Thanks Cass.’

  He disappeared out of the kitchen leaving me to munch thoughtfully on a Hob Nob. Why were children sometimes so cruel to each other? And what was going on in Richard Clegg’s life that made him feel the need to be such a toe-rag to Dylan?

  Ben wandered in, hands stuffed in pockets. ‘Footie’s finished. Liverpool Won. Scouse gits.’

  ‘Charming.’

  Ben shrugged. ‘Where’s Lord Voldemort gone?’

  ‘Upstairs to see Nell. He’ll be back down in a tick to see you too.’

  ‘Not sure I’m up for any more hysterics,’ Ben pulled out a stool and sat down heavily.

  ‘Go with it Ben. Dylan has a lot on his plate at the moment.’

  ‘And I don’t? Christ. I nearly miss my daughter being born. End up in Casualty with concussion. Have a hysterical wife telling me she can’t cope. A demented son behaving like the villain in a Harry Potter film. A newborn that I can’t touch because Nell tells me I’m a rubbish dad. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve come this close,’ Ben held a thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, ‘to packing a suitcase and sodding off.’

  ‘You’re not a rubbish dad,’ a voice piped up. Nell stood framed in the doorway, Dylan by her side. They had their arms around each other. She released Dylan and walked over to Ben. ‘Sorry if I’ve been a bitch. I love you.’ Ben reached up and pulled Nell onto his lap.

  ‘I love you too,’ he kissed his wife. ‘And how are you now Dylan?’ Ben looked across at his son. Extended a hand. Dylan walked over and took it. Allowed himself to be pulled onto Ben’s other knee.

  ‘Sorry Dad. For everything. Of course I’m pleased about Rosie. I just lost my cool.’

  ‘But you’re cool now?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good,’ Ben hugged his son hard.

  I stood up. ‘Right folks, I’d best be off. Is Rosie asleep?’

  ‘Absolutely sparko,’ Nell smiled wearily. ‘I’m going to get my head down too. While the going is good.’

  ‘That sounds like a wonderful idea,’ Ben tipped Nell and Dylan off his knees. ‘Thank you Cass for coming over and restoring calm to this household.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I smiled and walked out to the hallway.

  ‘I owe you,’ Nell said as she opened the front door.

  ‘Indeed. And I will call in the favour Sunday morning.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Because something is happening tomorrow night. Something I’m not particularly looking forward to,’ I paused on the step.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’m out. At the Oxo Tower no less.’

  Nell gasped. ‘You lucky cow! Oh for a husband like Jamie. To be wined and dined in such style.’

  I smiled thinly. ‘Also with Ethan and his delectable fiancée. Selina.’

  ‘Oh. Ouch.’

  ‘Yes. Ouch indeed. So Sunday morning, coffee and Hob Nobs at yours. I’ll be needing to bend your ear and vent my spleen.’

  Nell rubbed her hands together gleefully. ‘I shall look forward to it. Tell Morag to come along too.’

  I stepped out into the cold night air. ‘It’s a date.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Swishing back the curtains the following morning, I gasped with delight. Jack Frost had visited. Lavender Co
mmon sparkled like a glittery Christmas card. A couple of Saturday morning dog walkers were puffing along one of the steeper inclines, their warm breath clouding the cold air. A robin landed on the window ledge completing the post-Christmas festive look. I sighed with happiness. On mornings like this it was so damn good to be alive. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at such an acknowledgment. I’d felt so half-dead with tiredness these last few months, it struck me that my life had turned a corner. A better corner. A place where optimism reigned. Where energy levels were restored. Where achieving anything was possible. All because my darling baby boy had once again slept through the night and – I cocked an ear towards the baby monitor – was still apparently sleeping! It was amazing what a few hours of uninterrupted slumber did to the human body. And libido. My eyes flicked to Jamie, snoring soundly on his side of the double bed. He still made me go weak at the knees. Even with his mouth hanging open and making sounds like a farrowing pig. I padded over to my side of the bed. Peeling off my nightclothes, I slid under the duvet.

  ‘Oh lover boy,’ I cooed. My fingers walked across the flat sheet to my husband’s body. ‘Wake up Jamie. Your slave is here,’ I murmured, ‘your sex slave. Come to service you.’ My fingers made contact with Jamie’s torso. And began to travel down.

  Suddenly my wrist was caught in a vice-like grip. ‘Ah ha!’ Jamie shot upright and pinned one hand over my head. ‘Sex slave eh?’ He found my other wrist and whizzed that one over my head too. ‘So, wench. You’ve come into my bed offering to do all manner of debauched things.’ He regarded me. ‘And what be your name, fair maiden?’

  Jamie seemed to have launched into a pirate accent. I had an overwhelming desire to laugh. And then I thought of Morag. No doubt she’d instantly throw herself into some role playing. Absolutely relish it. I mentally squared up to the task. If Morag was happy to hop over horse jumps and visit imaginary stud farms, then I was pretty damn sure I could immerse myself in a spot of sea-faring shenanigans.

  ‘Oh kind sir, be gentle with me now.’

  ‘Ah harrrr! You should have thought of that before you disturbed the Cap’n from his slumber. I ask again. Your name?’

  ‘Penelope sir.’

  ‘Pen–?’

  ‘Penelope Cruz. And I’m hot for you Cap’n Depp. Oh aye, ooh-arrrr. Hot for being spanked, hot for walking the plank, hot for–’ I hesitated. The only word that came to mind was wank. What else went on in a pirate’s world? ‘–some hanky-pank.’

  ‘What–?’

  Using all my strength I pushed my wrists upward and rolled my body to the right. Jamie flipped over and suddenly I was astride him. I gazed down at him.

  ‘I’m gonna show you the real meaning of Jolly Roger.’

  The ensuing romp was feisty to say the least. Well, on my part. I don’t think Jamie knew what had hit him – a Force Ten gale or a wrestle with a wannabe actress re-enacting Pirates of the Caribbean. Five minutes later it was all over. My husband staggered off to the en-suite looking not so much rogered as wrecked. I lay back on the rumpled bed covers feeling pretty damn smug. Morag eat your heart out.

  An hour later, we all piled into the Muck Truck. Jamie drove us to Matt’s equestrian centre. The four older children peeled off to the stables to spend the day mucking out, riding their ponies and cleaning tack. Later they would return smelling of manure and sporting nails the colour of a blackboard. I shoved such thoughts away as Matt, on his return to the house, buttonholed Jamie.

  ‘Mac!’ he greeted my husband by the nick-name he’d called him for years. ‘I’m absolutely frozen,’ Matt rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet. ‘Come on in and have a coffee with me. Hello sweetheart,’ Matt pecked my cheek, ‘Morag will be overjoyed to see you. She’s been itching to have a shopping session. Why don’t you two girlies go to Fairview for a bit?’ he fished in his pocket for the front door key.

  ‘Good idea,’ said Jamie, ‘you could buy yourself a nice dress for tonight.’

  ‘Is he wining and dining you, Cass?’ asked Matt with a grin.

  ‘As such, yes,’ I smiled back, ‘although the boss and his fiancée will be there too. So it won’t be romantic.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Matt. His tone indicated he understood the delicacy of the situation – that Selina would be there. ‘And where is the venue?’

  ‘The Oxo Tower,’ said Jamie. ‘So you make sure,’ my husband turned to me, ‘that you buy yourself a rocking frock, okay? Nothing but the best for Mrs Mackerel.’ My husband fished in his back pocket for his wallet, and pulled out a wad of notes.

  ‘Thanks darling.’ I took the money, and kissed my husband’s cheek.

  ‘Oh God,’ Matt inserted his key into the lock, ‘don’t tell Mrs Harding or I’ll never hear the end of it.’

  The front door opened before Matt could turn the key. ‘Never hear the end of what?’ asked Morag.

  I smiled. ‘I’m going shopping. Want to come?’

  Morag snorted. ‘With Henry and Eddie? Not likely. If I’m going shopping I’ll want to try on dresses, and have a civilised coffee in John Lewis. Not spend my time charging in and out of assorted mother and baby rooms, suffering one interruption after another.’

  ‘The boys can stay with us,’ said Matt.

  I looked at Jamie. ‘Is that all right with you?’

  ‘Of course. Go on. Take the money and run.’

  ‘What money?’ asked Morag beadily.

  ‘Here you are,’ Matt sighed and pulled out his wallet. ‘That’s the livery money for Snowden’s stabling. Don’t spend it all at once.’

  ‘I will,’ Morag blew Matt a kiss. ‘Come on Cass. Freedom beckons.’

  Minutes later we were in Morag’s spotless Ford Galaxy heading along the motorway to Fairview. On the way I brought Morag up to speed regarding the impending dinner date with Ethan and Selina.

  ‘I’m sure everything will be fine,’ Morag soothed.

  ‘And I’m sure it won’t,’ I gazed stonily out the window. We were overtaking a red Astravan. At that moment, the driver glanced sideways. Flashed a puzzled look. I stared back. Frowned. He looked familiar. Morag edged the Galaxy past. ‘I’ve said it before,’ my neck swivelled slightly as I held the driver’s gaze, ‘and I’ll say it again. I don’t trust Selina as far as I can throw her.’

  Morag grinned. ‘All the same, I can’t wait to hear how the evening goes!’

  The Astravan appeared to now be accelerating, closing the distance between our respective vehicles. ‘By the way,’ I continued staring at the driver, ‘we’re meeting at Nell’s tomorrow morning for Hob Nobs and a post-mortem on the evening.’ The van driver and I recognised each other at exactly the same moment. He levelled alongside the Galaxy. A synchronised buzzing down of windows took place.

  ‘Nice to see you’ve given up driving,’ he shouted.

  ‘Nice to be overtaking you,’ I yelled back.

  ‘Cass?’ Morag risked taking her eyes off the road. ‘What the devil are you playing at? Put the window up. You’re freezing my tits off.’

  ‘You’re a silly tart!’ yelled the van driver.

  ‘And you’re a stupid fart.’

  ‘Bitch!’

  ‘Bastard!’

  ‘Right you fucking cow – I’m coming after you!’

  ‘CASS! PUT THE FRIGGING WINDOW UP!’ Morag roared just as the van driver panned the floor and pulled out on us. Morag swerved to avoid a collision. Fortunately there was nothing travelling close behind us. ‘For Christ’s sake Cass, what the hell’s going on?’

  ‘Shit. I wasn’t expecting him to do that.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Somebody I had an exchange of words with on New Year’s Eve. He gave me a mouthful when I was driving home from Tesco too slowly.’

  ‘Great. So now I have to deal with a road rage lunatic in front of me. Why did you have to answer him back?’

  ‘I guess I was a bit fired up talking about Selina.’

  ‘Well isn’t this just fab,’ Morag growled as she hit the
brakes, thus avoiding crashing into the back of the van. ‘He’s now playing stop-start silly buggers. Right. He’s winding me up now. Enough.’ She tooted her horn. The van blared back. ‘Time to ditch this guy.’

  Morag edged out enough to be seen in the van driver’s wing mirror, and then indicated right. The van immediately pulled out to block her from overtaking. Whereupon Morag checked her rear-view mirror for traffic coming up behind. There was none within striking distance. Still indicating right, she instead chucked a sharp left. We took off down a slip road leaving the motorway altogether. The Astravan sailed on. Furious that he’d been outwitted, a horn filtered back to us.

  Morag took her foot off the accelerator. The Galaxy’s speedometer instantly dropped.

  ‘Geez Cass. These days, whenever I’m with you, I seem to be running away from burly men.’ Morag checked some signs at a roundabout before turning left.

  ‘Nonsense,’ I could feel myself bristling.

  ‘Yeah? I seem to remember it was only five minutes ago we were holed up in a Wendy House on stilts in a kids’ playground.’

  I sighed. ‘That wasn’t my fault. It was Rocket’s.’

  ‘Yes, but you were in charge of her.’

  ‘Correction. We were in charge of her.’

  ‘Well if you could just stay out of trouble for five minutes while we go shopping, I’d quite like a civilised few hours.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I huffed.

  ‘Forgiven.’ Morag guided the Galaxy into one of the many car parks at Fairview. ‘And stop sulking.’

  ‘I’m not sulking!’ I sulked.

  ‘I’ll buy you coffee if you drop the strop.’

  ‘Okay,’ I perked up.

  We made our way into Fairview, and immediately headed to Costa’s.

  ‘So we’re meeting at Nell’s tomorrow morning?’ Morag stirred a sweetener into her black coffee.

  ‘Yes. We’d better buy a new baby gift for Rosie while we’re here.’