Happy Ever After

by Christina Jones

  Kat giggled. ’Sorry - it’s not a pretty picture.’

  ‘It’s not a picture at all. At least, not the one my bosses hoped for. I mean, I’ve probably got enough evidence, but they’ll want as much as possible. And as Fat Harry’s ticket home is for tomorrow we’ll have to hope he and The Floozy get together at the Temple of Artemis today.’

  ‘Uh?’ Kat’s brain was still fuddled. ‘Temple of who? Where?’

  ‘The city of Ephesus.’ Cameron switched off his lap-top. ‘We’re going to have to trail Fat Harry all day - so I hope you’re up to a lot of walking, not to mention a saturation of culture.’

  Kat, who was pretty sure she’d walk barefoot over broken glass if Cameron was there, nodded, then winced.

  ‘I’ll get that coffee,’ Cameron laughed. ‘And some pain killers.’

  The city of Ephesus was beyond Kat’s wildest dreams. The buildings, still standing centuries after the Romans built them, were almost perfect. Intricate architecture, lacy white against the deep blue sky, beautifully preserved, climbed away up the hillsides, the theatre dropped away below them, and even the hordes of tourists couldn’t detract from the breathtaking spectacle. The city was practically intact. It was truly like stepping back in time.

  Kat and Cameron had followed Fat Harry on the jolting local bus to the city. He was easy to trail as he was wearing orange shorts and a clashing pink and yellow shirt and a really sad bumbag, with a bad-taste baseball cap hiding his bald spot.

  ‘He’s just taking photos,’ Kat hissed, as they loitered beside a fabulous building which Cameron had told her was the Library of Celcius. ‘Which might be for his tourist business thingy, and there’s no sign of The Floozy…’

  They followed Fat Harry at a safe distance to the Temple of Artemis and Cameron whooped. ‘There she is! Waiting for him - all killer heels and a great big handbag - bit overdressed for sightseeing?’

  ‘Now you’re turning into Trinny and Susannah!’ Kat laughed, watching as The Floozy draped herself round Fat Harry. ’And maybe she really loves him - although goodness knows why.’

  ‘Now who’s the romantic?’ Cameron brandished his camera as the couple disappeared behind one of the towering white pillars. ’Come on - let’s see if we can get a close-up. Hopefully they’ll just think I’m taking tourist snaps.’

  With the sun beating down on her shoulders, and the white dusty street slithering under her feet, Kat kept close behind Cameron. Despite the crowds of tourists, the city of Ephesus seemed eerily silent, as if time had stood still, and ghosts of its Roman past still walked along the roads, chatted on the steps, sat laughing on the tiers of the amphitheatre.

  Despite the searing heat, Kat gave a little shiver.

  ‘Okay?’ Cameron looked down at her. ’Is this boring you?’

  ‘No way,’ Kat smiled. ’Ooh – what are they doing? Look at them!’

  Fat Harry had undone his bumbag and The Floozy had stuffed it in her huge handbag, and now they talking, their heads close together. Kat shook her head. There was no accounting for taste. And did all men cheat? Was it ever worth trusting anyone?

  ‘Don’t look so sad,’ Cameron whispered, still clicking away. ’This is just what I need! Oh, help! They’ve seen us watching them! And they’re angry! Run!’

  Hand-in-hand, they dodged the crowds of tourists, skipping in and out of the towering white temples and archways, skidding on the narrow dusty roads. Daring to look over her shoulder, Kat gasped. Fat Harry and The Floozy were still running after them, bumping and barging their way through the throng.

  ‘Quick!’ Cameron yelled, ‘in here!’

  He dragged her through yet another white archway and down a narrow alleyway where the sun filtered through the shadows. Pressing back against a nubbly wall, they watched as Fat Harry and The Floozy panted past.

  ‘Phew!’ Cameron laughed. ‘That was close. I think we’ll have to call it a day - I should have got enough for Mrs Fat Harry to start divorce proceedings. Job done.’

  ‘It’s a bit of a tacky job,’ Kat frowned. ‘Following people around and taking photos of them cheating on their partners.’

  Cameron shrugged. ‘Yeah, I know - but…’

  ‘Someone has to do it?’ Kat finished.

  ‘Something like that.’

  Suddenly she felt desperately sad. It had been a mad and exciting whirlwind - and now it was over. She’d remember this crazy couple of days for the rest of her life: Turkey’s exotic ancient beauty, the heat, the colours, and more than anything, she’d remember Cameron until the day she died.

  Now he’d be going back to London and she’d love him for ever but she’d have go back to Bodrum and join Bex and her life would never be the same again.

  ‘Well,’ Cameron was smiling. ‘That’s work over - now what shall we do for the rest of the week?’

  ‘What?’ Kat blinked. ‘Don’t you have to go home now?’

  ‘End of the week,’ Cameron grinned. ‘Same as you. My apartment is rented until the weekend. I’ve emailed all the photos and my report. I’m all yours for the next five days here - and the next fifty years when we get home - if you can bear to live with someone who spends their life being a peeping tom…’

  Kat didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She wanted to be with Cameron more than anything in the world, but he was right - she wasn’t truly happy with him taking paparazzi-type shots of people’s private lives.

  He pulled her close against him. ‘There’s something else I should tell you about Fat Harry. And I can tell you now it’s over. I didn’t want you to be involved in anything too risky - which is why I made sure you were out of the way last night…’

  ‘You mean he’s dangerous? But I thought this was about divorce -?’

  ‘Yes to both. I was warned he could turn nasty. His wife wanted proof that he was cheating - but he wasn’t just cheating her. He’s wanted for setting up iffy savings clubs for those can least afford to lose their money - and then disappearing abroad at pay-out time. My grandmother was one of the people who lost hundreds of pounds thanks to him. I took this job because it was so personal to me…’

  ‘I can see that,‘ Kat bit her lip. ‘What an evil man! And was The Floozy in on it?’

  ‘Yeah - that’s why I needed to take photos of them together - to see if I could get shots of him handing over money to her - and I did. There was loads of cash lying around in his apartment last night - but The Floozy didn’t take it, they just counted it and laughed a lot. God - it made me sick! But I got them doing the bumbag swap today. So, two birds with one stone - hopefully it’ll put them both away for a long, long time.’

  Kat tried not to laugh out loud. She curled her arms round his neck. ‘That’s brilliant! I hope everyone gets their money back thanks to you!‘

  ‘So do I,’ Cameron looked down at her. ‘So - what about my earlier offer?’

  Kat smiled. ‘Well, I obviously need a good tour guide here - and my own PI when I get home will definitely be the next must-have…’

  Cameron kissed her gently, then not so gently. The ground somehow disappeared from beneath her feet, and the glamour of the ancient city grew even more misty and magical as she kissed him back.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes, shall I?’ he whispered into her hair. ‘And you won’t be going back to Bodrum any time soon?’

  ‘No way. I’m sure Bex will manage fine without me,‘ Kat kissed him again. ‘And I’m really looking forward to having a bit of Turkish delight of my very own…’

  ‘M-u-m!’ Polly’s voice raised an octave as she clattered downstairs. ‘Mum! I knew there was something I meant to tell you…’

  Cindy, crashing the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher prior to the mad-morning dash to work, grinned. Polly, her twenty year old daughter, was always remembering life-changing things at the very last minute.

  ‘Really? Aliens are taking over the world? Elvis works in the local chippie? You and Josh are no longer an item?’

  ‘Nooo!’ Polly, al
l vibrantly coloured hair and cartoon nightshirt, looked indignant. ‘I thought it was really interesting – but if you’re going to be silly about it then I won’t tell you…’

  ‘Sorry,’ Cindy straightened up from the dishwasher. ‘So what is it? Will it change my life?’

  ‘Nah,’ Polly wrinkled her nose in the hallway. ‘But when we were looking through the colour supplements at college for one of our projects, I found this article, and I knew you’d be interested so I tore it out and put it in my folder and I’ve been meaning to give it to you for ages…’

  ‘But dreaming about Josh got in the way as usual?’ Cindy glanced round the kitchen for any stray washing-up. ‘Thanks love - just leave it by my handbag on the hall table, please – there’s no time to look at it now. I’ll read it when I get to work.’

  ‘Okay, done that.’ Polly drifted into the kitchen and sleepily reached for a coffee mug. ‘Oh, I hate being up this early - got to be in by half-ten and I’ve still got an essay to finish…’

  ‘Well make sure you do – oh, and Polly, be an angel and switch the dishwasher on before you go to college – and are you in for dinner tonight?’

  ‘Nah,’ Polly wrinkled her nose. ‘Me and Josh are going to the new place in the precinct. They’re veggie and really cheap and they’ve got live music.’

  ‘Nice,’ Cindy said, thinking that it was a clever ploy of the new place in the precinct to introduce an inexpensive vegetarian menu and indie music for the town’s large student population. ‘So it’ll just be me and Dylan tonight, then.’

  ‘Dylan’s got a football match straight after school, remember?’ Polly rattled the spoon in her mug. ‘He said Dad was going to watch and then take him for a pizza afterwards.’

  ‘Did he?’ Cindy frowned. ‘I know he’s got football, but I must have missed the bit about your dad and the pizza.’

  Sixteen year old Dylan had whirled through the house the previous evening, talking, shedding trainers and study-folders and dirty football kit in a flurry behind him. As he chattered non-stop about anything and everything, it was sometimes difficult to sort out details.

  And this morning, charging out to catch his school bus, freshly-washed football kit in one hand, a huge holdall over his shoulder and three pieces of toast squashed together, he’d shouted something cheerful that Cindy hadn’t caught.

  Dylan had never been a monosyllabic teenager. Like his dad, Cindy thought wryly, he was blessed with the gift of the gab.

  ‘Right,’ Cindy checked her handbag, ‘so it’ll be just be me, home alone, with a pierce-and-ping in front of the telly, then.’

  ‘Looks like it,’ Polly grinned mockingly. ‘You poor old thing. You’ll really have to start getting yourself a life, mum…’

  ‘One day soon,’ Cindy smiled at her daughter. ‘It’s right at the top of my must-do list. Right now – purse, door-keys, handbag… work here I come. See you later. Have a good day at college. Oh, crikey – look at the time!’

  ‘You should learn to drive and get a little car,’ Polly sipped her coffee. ‘Then you wouldn’t have to be panicking about missing the bus and – ‘

  ‘I don’t want a car,’ Cindy said shortly. ‘Can’t afford one and there’s far too much traffic on the road as it is.’

  Polly shrugged. ‘I’m going to get a car as soon as I’ve finished college. You’re lost without one these days. And it’s easy to learn to drive, Mum. I passed my test first time – and I’m sure even a really old person like you could do it - eventually.’

  Cindy shook her head. ‘Not interested in cars. Now – I really must run. Finish your essay and remember the dishwasher – okay?’

  ‘Okay, no sweat.’ Polly drifted out in to hall and giggled. ‘There! See the first signs of old age – you haven’t picked up the article.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Cindy took the folded sheets, glancing down at the photographs. Suddenly the brightly painted hall grew dark and she shivered. ‘Oh…’

  ‘What?’ Polly frowned over the rim of her coffee mug. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Cindy said quickly. ‘Someone just walked over my grave…’

  ‘Don’t say that! Not even as a joke. I know it means sort of deja-vu – but I hate it.’

  ‘You’re too soft for your own good,’ Cindy said gently, trying to sound normal. Feel normal. ‘Now – I must dash or I’ll really miss the bus.’

  ‘Mum – the article? Is that what made you go all spooky?’

  ‘No! Of course not! Why on earth – ?‘

  ‘Because,’ Polly peered at her mother, ‘it’s about Benfield, that’s why I pulled it out – that is where you used to live, isn’t it?’

  ‘Where I grew up, yes,’ Cindy said carefully, remembering to smile. ‘But I left there when – when I was younger than you are now and moved here, and then Granny and Grandpa moved down to Cornwall and I haven’t been back to Benfield since – crikey, it must be getting on for thirty years now.’

  ‘I didn’t mean it to upset you, I just thought it would be funny if you knew any of the places mentioned…’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Cindy shook her head. ‘But it was lovely of you to remember anyway… Now, have a good day at college and I’ll see you tonight. Bye love.’

  By the time she’d arrived at work, grabbed a much-needed cup of caffeine to boost her after the bus’s nose-to-tail gridlocked crawl through the town, exchanged early morning grumbles and giggles with the other girls in the office, and settled behind her desk, the article was burning a red-hot hole in Cindy’s handbag.

  The bus had been packed, as always, and unable to get a seat, reading the feature hadn’t been an option. Should she read it anyway? After all these years? She’d been sure that she’d never hear about Benfield again. After all, she’d put it all behind her, as everyone had told her to do, and left it in the past where it belonged. Surely she’d be better not raking it up again, wouldn’t she?

  And even if she chose to read the article, she couldn’t risk the entire office witnessing her reaction to the contents, could she? Maybe she should she read it in private? Or maybe she shouldn’t read it at all…

  Mentally tossing up whether to feed the sheets into the office shredder, or take her courage in both hands and disappear with it into the ladies and lock herself in a cubicle without anyone noticing, Cindy shook her head.

  It couldn’t be that bad, could it? Not after all this time.

  ‘Okay,’ she said to herself, ‘the loo it is…’

  ‘Sorry?’ Kath looked across from the neighbouring desk. ‘Did you say something?’

  ‘Er – sorry, Kath. Just thinking out loud.’

  ‘Aha! As we’ve long suspected. The first sign of insanity. And a symptom of living alone for far too long.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Cindy attempted a look of mock anger. ‘I live with Polly and Dylan – and an awful lot of their friends who seem to take our place as their second home, not to mention –‘

  ‘Protesting too much!’ Kath said triumphantly. ‘And living with the kids doesn’t count. I know Steve’s pretty good, but you’ve spent too long being mum and dad and all things in between. You need to get a life of your own, Cindy.’

  ‘Funny, Polly said much the same thing this morning…’

  Getting a life had been on her mind for some time – although, of course, she had a life, of sorts.

  There was work at Dexters – the town’s only remaining independent department store – where she’d progressed over the years from shop assistant through accounts clerk to customer service supervisor. And the divorce from Steve, seven years previously, had been reasonably painless and they were now good friends, and Polly and Dylan were, everyone said, a credit to her.

  Reluctantly deciding to leave the article until her coffee break, Cindy clicked open the “to be answered” letters file on her computer.

  She supposed the kids were a credit to her – and to Steve, because he was still a very-involved dad - they were happy, well-mannered, friendly and outgoi
ng – and because her own parents had been so strict, she’d never tried to curb their youthful experimentations.

  Mind you, as soon as she was out of her parents’ sight, she’d been pretty experimental herself, hadn’t she? Polly and Dylan would probably be shocked rigid if they’d seen her when she was young. They’d never be able to equate the Cindy of those days with their comfortable middle-aged mum. They probably wouldn’t even recognise her. But then, she thought wryly, why should they? She didn’t even recognise herself…

  So, her children’s exotic hair colours and the body piercings and the frankly odd clothes which had come and gone over recent years, had been allowed – more or less – to pass unhindered. She had put her foot down over Polly’s desire to have Josh’s name tattooed on her shoulder, ignoring Polly’s tearful assertion that she and Josh would be together for always; and Dylan’s brief obsession with having his head shaved, but that apart, the children had been given freedom to express themselves.

  Too much freedom, her own parents had said grouchily. But Steve had backed her, and so far, Polly and Dylan had come through their growing-up years without any major problems.

  Polly was in her final year at college studying fashion and textile design, and Dylan, far more academically gifted than his sister or either of his parents, was determined to become a premiership footballer after he’d scored a double-first at uni.

  And Steve had remarried, and Polly and Dylan, while at first wary of their youthful stepmother, now liked Nita very much, as she did them.

  Which, Cindy thought, opening the first letter file, just left her…

  She enjoyed her job, loved her family, had some good friends – but honestly, after work and shopping and cooking and cleaning and being a mum – there really wasn’t any time – let alone energy – to gad about in the local hot-spots.

  Even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. She had a close circle of friends to go out with occasionally, and had even had a couple of embryo relationships since the divorce, and had two weeks holiday with the children at her parents’ home in Cornwall every summer, but that was about the sum total of her social life.