by Mel Sherratt
She reached for the door handle. ‘I’ve got to find out the truth.’
Kelly unclipped the buckle on her seat-belt. ‘Then let me come with you.’
‘No. Don’t worry, I won’t say anything to upset her, but I do need to know.’
Josie crossed the road and stopped in front of a neat privet hedge. Her heart was beating so loud she thought everyone would be able to hear it. The woman was bending over, tending to a rhododendron bush this time. Josie watched her as she carefully dead-headed the stems, tenderly moving each branch to stop it from bouncing back to damage another.
‘Excuse me?’ Josie started. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, but I think I’m lost. I was wondering if you know of a Sue and Stewart Smith who live in this road.’
The woman turned towards Josie with a frown. Then she shook her head. ‘I don’t think I do. My son’s name is Stewart but he isn’t married. And our surname is Mellor – Smith, did you say?’
It took all of Josie’s strength to nod her head. While the elderly lady continued to talk, surreptitiously she studied her smart appearance, hair and make-up used to enhance rather than detract from her age. But apart from that, there was no mistaking it. Josie could see Stewart’s nose, his dark eyes, his long arms and fingers.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ the woman added, after naming most of the families in the surrounding houses. ‘I don’t think it’s this road. Are you sure you’ve got the right address?’
Josie gathered herself together and smiled politely. ‘I thought I had. Perhaps I’ll give them a quick ring to make sure. Thank you for your time.’
Josie got back into her car, drove to the next street out of view and parked up again.
‘Aaaaarrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhhh!’ She banged her fists on the steering wheel. ‘Oh, Kelly, I’ve been so stupid!’
Kelly looked as shocked as Josie. ‘I thought it would be a rumour,’ she said. ‘It seemed too far-fetched, too nasty, to be true. But –’
‘It’s her.’
‘– it is her? Shit!’
Josie couldn’t believe it. Stewart Mellor’s mum was alive, which meant that Stewart Mellor was a lying, two-faced bastard. Josie felt sick to the pit of her stomach. How could he have done that? And not just to her, but to his mother. All in the name of money – for that’s the conclusion she had drawn from this. There could be no other reason but greed.
‘At least you found out now before parting with any of your money,’ Kelly tried to soften the blow.
Josie nodded, tears welling in her eyes. ‘You’ve just read my mind.’
‘What are you going do now?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Josie started the engine again. ‘But if Stewart Mellor thinks he’s getting as much as a penny from me now, then he’s very much mistaken.’
Subj: Home Sweet Home
Date: 05/06/2013 11:00
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hi Josie,
Well, it had to happen. I’ve been here, what, weeks, and I’m… homesick. I can’t tell you how much I miss baked beans, mugs of coffee without labels of ‘extra skinny’ or ‘decaf’ attached to them, Eastenders and good old fish and chips. Even though I hardly ever eat them, I’m craving them! Talking about cravings, I can’t wait to meet my new nephew, too. Hell, I’m even fed up of the sun, although I know you’re having a run of hot weather over there.
I’m fed up of being with people most of the time. I’d like some space of my own. Ah well, at least it’s only a short contract and then it’s back to good old Blighty.
I haven’t heard from you so I can only presume things are hectic. Either that or I’m boring you with all of my photos. I’d love to hear from you.
Tata for now, James.
Subj: Hello
Date: 05/06/2013 17:28
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hello James,
I’m sorry it’s been such a long time before I’ve been able to reply. I’ve had a lot to deal with, on a personal and professional level. The Workshop deadline date for opening is still on target for the first week in July. Things are running smoothly, so I guess something will go wrong soon! That’s usually the case, isn’t it? I hope you’re doing well with your project.
I loved your photos. You’re right, New York looks so inviting.
Bye for now, Josie.
Josie wasn’t even sure if she should be replying to James’ emails or not, but she didn’t want him to think she was deliberately ignoring him. Besides, it had been nice to receive them, and if it took her mind off thinking about Stewart for a moment, it was worth it.
But as Stewart’s face kept pushing its way to the front of her mind, still she couldn’t get over what he’d done. She wanted to smash her fist right into it, make him hurt, make him bleed; make him cry out in pain. She hated him, hated everything about him.
She was annoyed with herself too, the way she’d been so gullible, the way she’d been tricked. Then again, Stewart Mellor was a con-man. He’d used her. He’d probably never loved her.
But Stewart Mellor was going to get his come-uppance… if she could hold her nerve. She knew what she had to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Before heading over to The Workshop on Friday morning, Josie made her first port of call the office. Noticing Debbie wasn’t in the main room, she found her eventually in the staff room.
‘You still on for our visits this afternoon?’ she asked, as she rummaged in the cupboard for her mug.
‘Yeah.’ Debbie pulled a sandwich box out of the fridge and sat down at the table. ‘What time will we be back, though? I’d like to leave at four tonight.’
‘Well, I might need to do a bit of detective work on Mrs Marley. She should have moved into Ryan Place by now but when I called to check, the bungalow was still empty. She’s moved some of her stuff in but it’s all on bloody show because there are no curtains up yet. Actually,’ she turned to Debbie, praying that her face wouldn’t redden too much, ‘would you do me a favour and look up her daughter’s phone number? If the place still looks the same when we visit, I’ll give her a ring.’
‘Will do.’ Debbie nodded.
Josie turned her back to her as she poured hot water into a mug, thankful that it seemed to have gone as planned. She sighed, knowing full well that the next thing she had to do wasn’t going to be easy at all.
After work that evening, Josie switched off the car engine and sat in silence as she looked across the road towards Sarah Mellor’s house. Stewart’s car was squashed onto the driveway. She could imagine him now, his scrawny body flat out on the settee, mug of tea by his side after a home-cooked meal with his mum. Before she could change her mind, she took out her phone.
‘We need to talk,’ she told him.
‘I’ve got nothing to say. My solicitor said not to –’
‘But things have changed since we last met, dear husband. I’m in my car across from your mum’s house. I suggest you come out to me, unless you want me to knock on the door and introduce myself.’
She ended the call and got out of the car.
Stewart appeared in seconds. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ he cried as he crossed the road towards her. Then, ‘Your hair! I –’
‘– not so much of a dowdy bitch now, huh?’ Josie said calmly, recalling his spiteful words. She was glad she had her new clothes on. She’d swapped her work boots for higher shoes too. ‘High heels, red lipstick and a push-up bra,’ Livvy had told her. ‘Forget diamonds: those are a girl’s best friends, by far.’
‘No wonder you’ve stayed away from me a lot more than I thought you would since I told you to leave,’ she added. ‘And now it makes perfect sense why, when we met, you never took me to your place. You said you were embarrassed of it, when actually you wanted to keep everything secret.’
‘How did you find out?’ He reached her side of the paveme
nt.
‘About the twenty-three grand in your mum’s bank account? Or the fact that she was alive and well and not dead and buried like you’d told me?’ She prodded him in his chest. ‘You piece of shit.’
‘Keep your voice down!’ Stewart looked up and down the street furtively.
‘Or that no one at the factory knows of my existence and they think you live at home with your mother?’ she added. ‘‘Mummy’s Boy’, isn’t that what they call you at work?’
He grabbed her arm. ‘How?’
‘It doesn’t matter how. I just want to know why.’
‘Why what?’
‘Why you hid me away, why you never told anyone you were married and why you were so ashamed of me.’
‘You, you, you, it’s always you, isn’t it?’ Stewart pointed a finger close to her face. ‘What about me?’
‘What about you? I’m not interested in you anymore.’
‘I’m still your husband.’
Josie frowned in disbelief. ‘You still have the audacity to call yourself that?’
‘It’s true and I have rights!’
She shrugged her arm but he held her steadfast.
‘You think you’re such a clever bitch working it all out, don’t you?’ he seethed. ‘But I’ve still been married to you for five years and I want my reward. I haven’t done anything wrong to stop me getting it, either. If you don’t cough up, I’ll sue you for every penny.’
‘Fine, I’ll go and chat to your mum,’ Josie snapped. ‘I’ll tell her what an evil, selfish bastard she raised as a son. Sarah, that’s her name, isn’t it? Mrs Sarah Mellor.’
‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘Let go of me.’
‘You wouldn’t do that!’ he repeated.
‘Take your hands off me.’
Josie shrugged her shoulder but Stewart dug his fingers in deeper. Using all the force she could muster, she recalled what she’d been shown on a self-assertiveness course last year, caught hold of his free hand and yanked back his fingers.
Stewart yelped. His grip tightened on her arm.
Josie bent his fingers back until the tips were nearly touching his wrist.
‘Let go, you mad bitch!’
‘Okay.’ She did as he asked – but then she brought up her hand and swiped the back of it across his face.
Taken by surprise, Stewart stumbled and fell to the pavement. He pressed his fingers to his lips and lowered his eyes to see blood.
Josie didn’t stick around to see his reaction. She was halfway into her car when he caught hold of her again and swung her round to face him. Her body rigid, she waited for him to hit her but he never moved. Seconds passed before she realised he wasn’t going to do anything.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs Mellor rushing up her driveway.
‘Stewart?’ she shouted. ‘What’s going on across there?’
‘Nothing, Mum,’ he shouted back to her, having the decency to look embarrassed. ‘Go on in, I’ll be across in a minute.’
Josie felt her chest rising and falling rapidly. Had she really drawn blood? She had! Feeling braver now, she challenged him one last time.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you did what you did. Staying in a marriage for five years just for convenience is weird – it’s beyond belief, really. It’s also devious and calculating when all the time you knew you were going to inherit money and a house from your mum. And to tell me that she had died? I wonder what she’d think about it all.’
‘She won’t disown me, if that’s your plan.’
‘I’m sure she won’t. But if you don’t want her to find out, then you’d better do things on my say-so from now on.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I want a divorce – you can pay for that – and I’ll decide, with the advice from my solicitor, on a figure that you may be entitled to. One that I think will be reasonable for five years of marriage – perhaps on the basis of how much you paid towards the running of the house.’
‘But –’
Josie held up her hand to stop him.
‘Take it or leave it,’ she said calmly, ‘or I will tell her everything. You have my word on that.’
Once she was safely back at home with the door locked to the world, Josie sunk into her settee and sobbed. She wondered if it was really over now that she’d had the courage to face Stewart, or whether it would all kick off again. Was she mad to have reacted in that way? But she couldn’t let him get away with it, and going to his mother’s house was the only shock tactic she could think of.
She glanced around the living room, wondering if she would ever recognise this house as her home. She cast her mind back to distant memories, long before Stewart had arrived on the scene – like the time her mother had surprised her with a birthday party when she’d been ten. The time when she’d fallen off her bike and landed in the ornamental pond at the bottom of the garden – it had been filled in shortly afterwards. She remembered coming home with a prize for being the best history student that year in junior school. She’d been as proud as punch, even if she had already read the book twice.
But then she remembered the constant moaning, the whining and groaning as she tried to reach out for her independence. Brenda had been livid the first time she’d worn make up, stating that no daughter of hers was wearing lipstick and mascara that made her look like a prostitute rather than a fourteen-year-old girl. Unlike most of the pupils at her school, Josie was never given pocket money to spend as she wished. A trip to the local library had to suffice for her Saturday morning jaunts.
Yet sitting here, Josie felt calm, peaceful even. She sensed a huge weight being lifted from her shoulders as she looked ahead towards a brighter future. She had some challenging days ahead – especially when sorting out the fiasco with Debbie – but, right then, she knew the new Josie could cope. The Workshop was on schedule to open in two weeks and she knew that would mean extra duties for her, which she was looking forward to, even if they would also challenge her current workload.
When she went to bed that night, Josie felt her fears and anxiety float away into the warmth of the night. Maybe she was free of Stewart at last.
Subj: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 15:01
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hey, not to worry. It’s just great that you found the time to reply eventually. I saw an article about it in your local news online last night. You look like you have a mammoth task on your hands! I wish you luck. It’s a pity I won’t be back until after it has opened.
PS You look like a million dollars (no pun intended).
Subj: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 20:03
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Why thank you, kind Englishman. I hate having my photo taken but I suppose it is in the name of advertising. We have over sixty percent of the units filled now – only another forty percent to go. And guess who’s left doing all the grant applications?
PS. Surely you like the new Josie better than the old one?
Subj: Re: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 15:05
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Are you flirting with me, Ms Josie?
Subj: Re: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 20:05
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Are you flirting with me, Mr James?
Subj: Re: Re: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 15:06
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
I might be.
Subj: Re: Re: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 20:06
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subj: Re: Re: Re: Hello
Date: 14/06/2013 15:07
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Goodnight? It’s three o' clock in the afternoon here! So I’ll leave you with a message for tomorrow:
Have a nice day. I’ll be thinking of you.
All that weekend, Josie kept her phone on, waiting for a call or a text from Andy. He said he’d ring her if anything happened as soon as he could. When she arrived at the office on Monday morning having heard nothing from him, the first thing she checked was the weekend call-log to see if anything untoward had been reported. But there was nothing apart from one entry about the kids playing football over on Vincent Square. Debbie’s desk was empty, too.
She’d just sat down at her own desk when her phone rang.
‘Please tell me it worked,’ she said – caller ID told her it was Andy. ‘I’ve hardly slept this weekend.’
‘It worked,’ Andy told her. ‘We got him.’
Josie grinned. ‘I can hear you smiling down the phone.’
‘Can you talk?’
‘Yes, there’s only me and Ray in at the minute. He’s gone to make a drink.’
‘No sign of Debbie?’
‘No.’
‘Good, I’m heading over there after. But there’s something else. We got Scott Johnstone too.’
‘What?’ Josie cried, and then lowered her voice. ‘At the bungalow?’
‘Yes, they’ve been in on it together. Johnstone’s admitting his part right now.’
‘Bloody typical of him,’ Josie retorted without thinking. ‘Grass everyone else up to save his own skin.’
‘Josie, we want him to cough.’