Trish's Story

by Georgia Hill

  Chapter 8

  ‘What are you wearing?’

  Tash looked up from the office’s main computer. ‘Morning to you too, Emma. You’re late, by the way.’

  ‘Soz. Couldn’t shift Stevie out of the bathroom. Little bro has turned thirteen and discovered girls. And the shower. Used up all my shampoo.’

  ‘You need to find a place to yourself.’ Tash slumped back onto her desk chair and fanned herself. It was the beginning of another hot day and tourists were already thronging Berecombe’s main street. On her way from the car park, Tash had ducked around several suntan-anointed families heading to the beach. Pausing before unlocking the agency’s front door, she’d gazed after them wistfully, wishing her life was so carefree.

  ‘No argument from me there. Can I have a pay rise then?’ When Tash didn’t rise to the bait, Emma said, ‘So what are you wearing? Baggy’s never been your thing. And how long is that skirt?’ Emma twisted and peered down at Tash’s feet. ‘And flats?’ Her eyes widened. ‘The heel of your foot is never in contact with the ground!’

  ‘Well, it is today. Haven’t you got to put the coffee on?’

  Emma flicked on her computer and got up. She went into the little kitchen and called through, as she boiled the kettle and rummaged for biscuits. ‘Not up to high heels this morning? Bit stiff after the run last night?’

  ‘You could say that.’ Tash was sore but not for the reasons Emma was hinting at. She’d been right, she’d had to pay for defying Adrian. And what he’d done to her in bed had made her feel demeaned. It hadn’t been even close to the erotic experience he’d promised her. But after a bottle of wine each, he’d persuaded her to let him do it. The final humiliation had been waking up to find he’d gone in early to work, leaving some clothes for her laid out in the dressing room. She’d hunted for her usual skirt suits and stilettos but they’d disappeared. In their place was the midi skirt, loose blouse and expensive-looking leather pumps that she was currently wearing. They were marginally smarter than the only other clothes left in the wardrobe.

  Emma reappeared carrying two mugs of coffee. ‘Great crowd last night. Brilliant that Millie and Jed turned up although I think Amy’s going to struggle.’

  Tash took her mug. ‘Well, she’s a bit of a lardy-arse.’

  ‘That’s so unkind, Tash! I seem to remember you weren’t all that svelte not that long ago.’

  ‘Yeah. And I did something about it.’

  ‘Well, maybe Amy is trying to as well. It’s not always easy.’

  Tash bit her lip. Why was she such a cow sometimes? Because you’re unhappy, said the voice in her head. She sipped her coffee. ‘Sorry, I know it isn’t. Sorry Em,’ she repeated. ‘I’m in a foul mood this morning.’

  Emma raised an eloquent eyebrow. ‘Just this morning?’

  ‘Point taken.’ Tash sat up straighter and took in a great gulp of breath. It was a gorgeous summer day, she lived and worked in a beautiful seaside town. She loved her job. Life was good, wasn’t it? Glancing across at Emma she wondered if she’d understand? Emma was younger by a few years and happy in what seemed a loving and uncomplicated relationship with Ollie. Did he play mind games the way Adrian did? She was about to ask when Biddy Roulestone flung herself through the door, a hot-looking poodle trailing behind her.

  ‘Need a house,’ she boomed unceremoniously. ‘For Arthur and me. Thinking ahead, you see.’ She tapped the side of her nose. ‘Neither of us getting any younger. Bungalow would be good. Want to release a bit of equity too. Got my sights on a silver swingers’ holiday in Lanzarote, amongst other things.’ She hmphed. ‘Can’t persuade Arthur though. Might have to leave him here with Elvis.’ The poodle, recognising his name, looked up and wagged his tail. ‘Oh,’ Biddy added. ‘Having a go at baking. Got a bit addicted to Bakeoff and thought it couldn’t be that difficult. Thought I’d have a bash.’ She slung a Tupperware box onto Emma’s desk. ‘See how you get on with my special brownies. Stick me on your property hotlist, won’t you?’ She waved as she began to leave. ‘Come on Elvis,’ she muttered to a reluctant-looking dog. ‘And, if you can find me the right house, you might have mine and Arthur’s to sell and all.’ She cackled. ‘That’ll up your commission!’

  Once she’d gone, leaving dust motes swirling in the morning sunshine, Tash looked at Emma and said, ‘Arthur Roulestone must be a saint.’ They burst out laughing and it broke the tense mood.

  Emma opened the box and sniffed the brownies cautiously. ‘Well, they smell good.’ She picked one up and bit into it. ‘Taste good as well. It was great that Kit came running too,’ she said through a full mouth, returning to the subject. ‘We had such a great time in the Old Harbour afterwards. Shame you had to get off home. God, he looked good in those sweats. Never seen a man with such long legs.’

  Tash’s bad mood threatened to return. She’d not mentioned Kit’s presence to Adrian when he asked who had gone running. It had seemed easier. She thought back to how Kit had loped along, his long legs making light work of the two-kilometre run. He’d been a good running companion. Not talked too much, had gone through the stretches with her. Easy company. The run hadn’t taxed her all that much either but the group had decided, to be fair to the beginners, to start with a short distance and build up. The fun run itself was only five kilometres but they had less than a month to train up. ‘Waste of training, if you go and get hammered in the pub afterwards,’ she snapped, conveniently forgetting the bottle of white she’d drunk. ‘And now, when you’ve finished with gossiping perhaps we can sort out the day diary? I’d like you to value the Morrisons’ bungalow today. And this time Emma, try and get them to sign us up.’

  Emma looked mutinous for a second. The Morrisons had Hughes and Widrow over at least twice a year to value their crumbling 1930s bungalow, with absolutely no intention of putting it on the market. But she knew better than to argue with Tash in her present mood. ‘Yes boss,’ she sighed and hid her resentment in her coffee mug.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Salad tonight?’ Tash called from the kitchen, as she heard Adrian open the front door. ‘Too hot to eat anything else. Feta and some nice juicy beef tomatoes.’

  ‘Do we have to? What happened to those steaks I bought?’

  ‘Thought we’d have them on Friday. Celebrate the fact it’s the weekend.’ Tash kept her tone light. ‘I’ll get a bottle of your favourite Rioja to go with them.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ Adrian brightened for a moment. ‘I’ll go and get changed. Won’t be a sec.’

  They ate in the garden. A light mist was coming in with the tide, cooling the end of another hot day. Sometimes Tash thought it would be fun to live nearer the sea, like Millie did, but in August it was good to leave the hustle and bustle of the seafront behind. She waited until Adrian was halfway down his second Bud before she began.

  ‘I couldn’t find my work clothes this morning.’ Adrian remained silent so she continued. ‘I had to wear that long skirt you bought me in the spring. Couldn’t really go to the office in these.’ She gestured to her cut offs. ‘Do you happen to know what happened to my suits? I can’t find them anywhere.’

  Adrian put his beer bottle down. ‘Sorry darling? Miles away. Lovely salad, by the way. You were right about the tomatoes.’

  ‘I said, do you know where my works suits are?’ Adrian was stalling. She could see him thinking up answers.

  ‘Oh! Your work suits? Yes. I took them into the dry cleaner’s on the way to the site in Taunton.’

  ‘You took my clothes to a dry cleaner’s? On a Monday morning when you knew I’d need something for work?’

  Adrian stared at her innocently. He wrinkled his nose. ‘I thought it a bit odd when you asked me to. Wondered what you’d wear.’ He drained his beer.

  ‘I didn’t ask you to do anything with my suits.’

  Adrian got up and strolled through the French doors into the kitchen. ‘Of course you did, darling.’

  Tash heard the fridge door open and close and the hiss of air as he ope
ned another beer.

  ‘Remember, you said with all this hot weather they needed a clean.’

  ‘When?’ She twisted her neck around to glare at him as he sauntered back into the garden. ‘When did we have this conversation?’

  ‘The other night.’ He waggled his beer bottle. ‘Mind you, you’d had the best part of a bottle of red so perhaps that’s why you don’t remember. I distinctly recall you saying that if I was going over Taunton direction to drop them off.’

  Tash was certain she’d said no such thing. ‘And did you take my shoes to the dry cleaner’s too?’

  Adrian chuckled. ‘Why would I take your work shoes to the dry cleaner’s?’

  ‘I couldn’t find them either this morning.’

  A blackbird flew low across the garden, calling its warning as it went.

  Adrian watched as the bird flew up into a tree and disappeared. ‘Oh, I had a quick tidy up while you were still in the land of nod. I put them in the cupboard in the spare room. You were sleeping so beautifully I didn’t want to wake you up to tell you.’ He pointed the beer bottle at her. ‘You know, you’re working too hard. Maybe you should go part-time? If you can’t remember these things maybe you’re too stressed at work.’

  Tash ignored the last comment. She stared at Adrian. His behaviour was getting increasingly irrational. ‘I looked all over the house for my shoes this morning. I looked in that cupboard. They weren’t there.’

  ‘Oh darling, are you sure?’ He put his head on one side in a bid to appear sympathetic. ‘That’s where I put them. Perhaps you need to pop into the optician’s. Have your eyes checked.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight,’ Tash said through gritted teeth.

  ‘You mentioned having them lasered. Maybe it’s wearing off? No harm done to have an eye test.’

  Tash lapsed into silence. She watched the dusk lengthen the shadows created by the six-foot-high fence Adrian had insisted on having. They’d begun to plan the garden but hadn’t got very far. She shivered. Putting in plants which would bloom next summer hinted at a permanence she was no longer sure she wanted. She glanced across. At least not with Adrian.

  ‘You cold, darling? Shall we go in?’ He grinned, wolfishly. ‘Shall I warm you up?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she snapped, then had a rethink. ‘Actually, I’m not,’ she added in a more conciliatory tone. ‘I’ll go and get my sweatshirt. You stay here. It’s too nice an evening to go in yet. And it’s the end of the summer. We don’t know how much more of this lovely weather we’ll get.’

  Padding up the thickly carpeted stairs, she looked around. She loved this house. Its luxury. The status it gave her. The way eyes widened appreciatively when she explained where she lived. She was seen as the local girl made good. All those nay-sayers who’d bullied her and told her she was a nobody had been proved wrong. She’d proved them wrong. The house was a symbol of her success and the success to come. As her hand rested on the door handle of the spare bedroom, she paused. But were people really so bothered about something so avidly materialistic? The book group members had been indifferent when Marti Cavendish had tried to impress them in the same way. Would it be such a big wrench to leave? Was it stupid to hang on to a lifestyle that no longer gave her any joy? Her stomach turned at the thought. Would Adrian even let her leave? Pushing the bedroom door open she cast a fearful look behind her, took a deep breath and went in.

  She opened the cupboard door with a hand that trembled. She’d looked in there that morning. It had been empty. She recoiled violently. It wasn’t anymore. Stacked neatly in pairs, on the shoe racks she’d bought especially, were her stilettos. The ones she wore with her smart little suits for work. She blinked, then blinked again hard. They were still there. She shook her head and thought back. She was certain the cupboard had been completely empty that morning. Or was she? She’d been tired, in a rush, maybe she’d not looked properly. Maybe Adrian was right and she did need her eyesight testing? After all, what purpose would he have for doing something so petty as to hide her shoes? She heard him call from the garden and eased the cupboard door shut. Nipping into her dressing room, she had the sense to pick up a sweatshirt on her way back to him. A headache threatened. None of this made any sense.

  Chapter 10

  ‘Find it?’ Adrian asked casually.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Darling, you jumped a foot. I asked if you’d found your sweatshirt. Ah yes, I see you have. And you were quite right as always. It’s too nice to go in just yet. Autumn will be upon us before we know it.’ He patted the space beside him. ‘Come and cuddle up on the bench. Drink?’ When she shook her head he asked, ‘Is everything alright, Natasha? You look awfully pale.’

  ‘Headache,’ she mumbled as she slid in next to him.

  ‘Oh my darling, why didn’t you say? Shoulder massage?’ Without waiting for an answer, he got up and began kneading her muscles. ‘My, there’s a lot of tension here. No wonder you’ve got a bad head. You really do work too hard, Natasha.’

  She let her head loll back. Adrian was good at rubbing away her headaches.

  ‘Perhaps we should look into booking a break? Somewhere hot where we can do nothing but lie in the sun. Or a city break? I know you’ve always wanted to go to Italy. Florence maybe?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can take the time off.’

  ‘Well, not immediately but maybe November or December.’ He stopped massaging for a moment. ‘Oh Natasha! What about a Christmas holiday? Iceland or somewhere really wintry? Just think, sleigh rides, ice hotels, vodka shots.’

  ‘It sounds wonderful.’ It did but Tash had never been away from her parents at Christmas and she was their only child. Would it seem like a proper Christmas for them if she didn’t see them for lunch? And December was a long way away. Over four months. If she committed to going to Iceland, it would be even harder to break away. Did she really want to leave? She opened her eyes wide. Was she serious about leaving Adrian? She watched as he wandered into the kitchen murmuring something about finding aspirin. He could be very kind. He looked after her, treated her like a porcelain doll. She must have made a mistake about the shoes. There were too many bedrooms and too many cupboards in the house. It would be an easy mistake to make.

  Adrian returned with a packet of tablets and a tall glass. ‘Elderflower cordial,’ he said. ‘Lots of ice.’ He smiled benevolently as she took the pills and drank.

  ‘Delicious. Maybe that’s what I needed. Dehydrated, probably.’

  ‘Easily done in this hot weather. Maybe we should talk more about snow and ice hotels to cool us down?’

  Tash laughed.

  ‘That’s better.’ Adrian looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You know, I haven’t heard you laugh for quite a while. I’ve missed it.’ He sat next to her and took her hand. ‘I’m worried about you, darling. You seem so busy all the time.’ He gestured to the garden. ‘If you didn’t work you could be here more. Look after the garden, the house.’ He squeezed her hand reassuringly. ‘You don’t have to, you know. We could afford for you to stop work quite easily. If the Manchester job comes off, I’m targeting half a mill profit.’

  Tash eased her hand away. Adrian had never before suggested she give up work. He’d nagged at her for working too hard, wanted her to cut her hours but this was new. She put the glass down carefully. ‘I love my job, Adrian.’

  ‘I know you do, my sweet. But you don’t see what it’s doing to you. Always running late, never having enough time to do the things you enjoy.’ He paused. ‘Getting forgetful,’ he added, meaningfully.

  ‘Am I?’ Tash frowned. She didn’t recognise the picture he was painting. She’d always been efficient, organised, focused.

  Adrian smiled. ‘Why don’t you have an early night? I’ll bring you up a cup of tea. Pretty Woman is on later, we could watch it in bed?’

  It seemed easier, the less exhausting thing, to agree.

  Chapter 11

  The grand opening of Millie’s Little Bookshop Café was
in full throttle by the time Tash and Adrian got there. Despite knowing Tash wanted to go, Adrian had got home long after he’d promised and then had insisted they ate before leaving. As a result, they were late.

  Light spilled from the enormous windows overlooking the harbour and as it was another sultry evening, the double doors were flung open onto the paved space beyond. Fairy lights bedecked the outside of the building and the night air hummed with the scent of potted scarlet nicotania, purple petunias and the saline from the black sea crashing onto the beach beyond.

  ‘Millie always knew how to hold a party,’ Tash said, as she and Adrian fought through the crowd. ‘Is that a seafood bar over there? And a cocktail bar as well. Wow!’

  ‘Folks will always turn up if there’s free booze on offer,’ Adrian grumbled. ‘Doesn’t make it the most sophisticated of events.’

  ‘Oh, stop moaning and let’s have a drink.’ When he was about to start whining again, she added, ‘Look isn’t that Barry from the planning committee? Might have some work to put your way.’ She watched as Adrian darted off in Barry’s direction. He never missed an opportunity to network.

  Collecting a mojito, she spotted Millie. ‘It all looks amazing,’ Tash kissed her on the cheek. ‘Congratulations. You must be a miracle worker to get all this done in the time.’

  ‘Thanks Tash. I’m not sure how we got it finished to be honest. And between you and me, there’s still a lot more to do.’ She winked. ‘I bribed the builders working on the hotel Jed’s brother owns to moonlight. My lemon drizzle will do it every time.’