The dress didn’t fit her; it owned her.
Whatever flaws she may have seen in the mirror naked, the dress gently masked them while emphasising her feminine lines and flow of her body. Hardly able to breathe, she turned first to one side and then the other, almost daring the mirror to find a fault.
Penny had never owned, or in fact tried on, an outfit that made her feel more naked wearing it than not. She ran her hands down the side of her body and tried not to giggle hysterically. ‘OK, then…I guess I’m ready…’
The doorbell rang and she could hear Edward heading to the door to deal with yet another parishioner’s problem. Probably just as well, she thought miserably, he’d never have noticed anyway.
In a moment of wild abandon she opened a free sample of devil red Chanel lipstick and tore off the wrapper on the bottle of Prada perfume. If she was going to dress up, damn it, then she was going to do it properly. The next box to fall foul of the tsunami of indulgence contained Gucci kitten heels.
She wondered if she should feel guilty, possibly. But the last time she felt this alive was when Mrs Thompson forgot to take her pills, stripped naked and streaked down the cricket pitch at the village friendly ten years ago.
Penny took a last lingering look at the vixen in the mirror, paused and transferred the contents of her clutch bag into the black Mulberry she had hidden on top of the wardrobe. Smiling happily she closed the bedroom door.
Edward had hoped for a quiet evening in with Penny so they could discuss the parking arrangements for the forthcoming tractor event and while he hadn’t expected Hugo to turn up with the planning folder he had to admit it was good timing. They had just settled down on the kitchen table with a cup of tea and some luxury chocolates he couldn’t remember buying when Penny came down the stairs.
Hugo bit hard on a nougat and went a vivid scarlet colour. Edward just stared.
‘Oh, hello, Hugo. Sorry I can’t join you but I’m just off to meet up with an old friend.” Totally failing to notice the effect she was having on the two men, she gave her husband a quick peck on the cheek. ‘Can’t stop, I’m running late. Don’t wait up, darling.’
She left behind the faint scent of very expensive perfume and was out of the door before either of them had a chance to speak.
The two men were very silent as they stared at the closed door. Hugo was the first to rally round. ‘I say, vicar… your wife… I mean… crumbs…’
Edward continued to stare; from the kitchen window he could see Geoff opening his car door to take her away for the evening. He didn’t realise Penny could lie so convincingly.
In the canal boat, Kate stood in the middle of the destruction and chaos and met James’ shocked expression. They had only left the boat for a couple of hours but it had been long enough for someone to come in and wreck the place.
“Why would anyone do this?” James picked up a chair and stared at the mess. Ruffles backed into his feet. “Shall I call the police or do you want to?”
“You can’t call the police.” Kate was white but her voice was firm.
“Why not?”
“Because I know who did this and the police really won’t be able to help.” She saw his expression and continued. “Before I left England, the last time, I had a relationship with someone called Ryan. He wasn’t very nice so I broke up with him; and then he started being really unpleasant. He began leaving threatening messages and then he physically attacked me and I ran away.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“Because he caught up with me at Christmas. Please don’t be angry at me for not mentioning it but I thought that maybe things would be different this time if I didn’t act scared and carried on as normal.” She started to cry. “But there’s no normal where’s he’s concerned.”
“Right, we’re calling the police.” James took out his phone.
“No! There’s more. He… he said he’s got a gun with my prints on, he said it’s a murder weapon. If the police are involved then I go to prison.”
“Did you kill anyone?”
“Of course not, but one day he took me out to a firing range and so yes, he does have a gun with my prints. See all this,” she gestured around her, “this is me, this is my life, this is my reality and I don’t want you to try and deal with it.”
“Hang on, isn’t that from the plot of a movie?”
“Probably, he always had a book on the go and they usually had dark, brooding covers. It wouldn’t surprise me if he stole a few ideas on how to be really evil towards me. I just need to move on and find somewhere else to stay for a bit.”
“How long for?”
“Until I move on to the next place,” she said miserably. “I’m saving us time really. You and I stand as much chance as that broken cupboard.”
“I think you’re being a bit hasty.”
She threw a pot of paint against the wall that sprayed a violent crimson slash over a blank canvas.
“Just go!”
“You don’t mean that. Come on, we’ll work this out. I love you.”
“I’d actually forgotten you were still living in the village, you know. It wasn’t until you saw me at the vet’s that I remembered. You were convenient, James; sorry to hurt your fragile male ego but there you are. I promise you that if you leave now I won’t give it a single thought.”
James stared at her then turned and walked out.
She watched him go feeling the last piece of herself die inside. As the sound of his car faded outside she whispered, “I love you too.”
Ruffles tentatively pattered over to her and put a paw on her leg, pressing delicately until Kate picked him up and rested her head in his soft fur.
At the sound of footsteps coming closer Kate quickly put the dog down and found the baseball bat she kept under the sofa. She stood behind the door and waited. A creak from the door told her someone had entered.
“Kate? Where are you, it’s James.” He walked into the lounge, turned and recoiled at the sight of Kate poised with the bat.
“I thought you’d gone.”
“I changed my mind.”
She lowered the weapon with shaking hands. “It’s safer for you if I just leave.”
James went to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Come and live with me while we’re figuring this out. You don’t really want to go through this on your own, do you?”
Kate shook her head. “But I’m worried about you.”
“So we’ll worry about each other, maybe it’ll balance out. Pack what you need that fits on the back of the car and we’ll come back some time tomorrow for the rest. Okay?”
“Okay. James, I didn’t really mean what I said earlier, you know that, right?”
He kissed her lightly and held her. “I know."
Kate watched Ruffles snuffling around the stretched canvas and managed a smile as he walked through blue paint and then ran across the surface to her. Small paw prints stood out in cheerful contrast. She bent down to scoop him up.
“Ruffles, you scamp. This boat is only big enough for the one artist, understood?” She grabbed a cloth to wipe his paws clean and he rewarded her with a lick to the hand. “I don’t think I want that canvas here, it feels like bad luck.”
“Not a problem.” James grabbed one side and carried it out. “I’ll ask Mark to dump it on his way over to London tomorrow. Come on,” he held out his hand, “let’s go home.”
Sitting in their spotless lounge Mark could feel his pulse quicken as Tamara achieved a brow movement moment of concentration.
“What happened to the picture?”
The picture in question, an ugly original that Mark had bought when drunk and in salaried employment, had been sold when the van needed a service. He knew she’d notice at some point but had hoped to replace it before that happened
Mark shrugged and tried to remember snippets of gallery openings she had dragged him round. “I thought that perhaps the lines of the painting were in contrast with the sofa. The au
ra of the frame was out of synch with the chakras. I didn’t think the green went with our yellow vase.” He realised he was babbling and as she appeared unimpressed he decided to go for broke. “I don’t know, darling, it just seemed a bit… last season. I couldn’t risk you being seen with something that wasn’t on-trend, could I?”
“You really think it was…” she dropped her voice, “last season?”
Mark leaned closer to her and whispered, “I heard someone say that the artist had been arrested for being in possession of child porn.”
Her manicured hand flew to her mouth. “And to think I have friends over this weekend! That sort of scandal could really hurt my chances at fashion week. What will we put there now?”
“Actually, I have something that just might work. Ridiculously expensive and the artist is so exclusive that she’s practically unheard of but, hang on a minute and I’ll bring it down. It’s in the van.” Mark jumped up and went outside.
“I think you’ll like this,” he said struggling with the sheer size of the canvas. “Ta da!” He leaned it up against the wall and stepped back to be with Tamara. With a spark of genius he poured her a glass of wine. She probably hadn’t eaten in three days and the alcohol would shoot straight into her judgement receptors.
The canvas was blank apart from paw prints and a violent splodge of red in the middle.
“It so fresh and minimalist, don’t you think? I’m sure I read in one of your magazines that this is the sort of style that everyone was going for. It’s very individual.”
Tamara tilted her head, taking in the riot of colours and abstract images. “Oh yes, absolutely. How much was it?”
“Practically priceless.” He watched as Tamara took in the information. There would probably be more questions in a day or two when all thoughts had been processed but for now, maybe, just maybe he’d got away with it.
From the cabinet behind him, Mark could feel hundreds of tiny dolls’ eyes boring into his back, judging him for being a bad fiancé.
He looked over at Tamara and tried to picture what domestic bliss might look like. He was having a hard time.
Penny was eyeing up the soap options with interest. Generally she would have chosen whatever was cheapest but today her heart was pulling her towards a rose-scented, moisturising soap dispenser. It cost at least five times more than the supermarket’s own brand block. Her head reminded her that they would both do the same job and the dispenser wouldn’t even last as long as the block. Her heart noticed that there was a rose-scented soap dispenser and moisturiser gift set. Penny wondered if there was anyone she knew with a birthday coming up; there wasn’t. Her head said that at some point Edward would notice the changes in the house and then she’d be in real trouble. Best to just stay with the regular, keep under the radar, stay out of trouble. Her heart won.
Later that day when Penny was unpacking her shopping, she tried to find ways of justifying buying the gift set for herself. It didn’t matter that she had bought it from her winnings, it was an extravagance she had paid for. Even later, as she lay in a hot bath, luxuriating in the rose-scented bubbles she had found on another shelf, Penny was trying to find ways of making it right with herself.
Later still, as she wrapped herself up in the fluffy new pink towel set that had cried out to be bought along with the pretty rose gift sets, Penny decided not to think about it any more. Edward probably wouldn’t even notice.
Babs watched Camilla coming through the door of her tea shop and felt her heart drop. As usual Camilla was impeccably dressed in a pale green twin set with her hair scraped back into a Croydon face lift. Babs looked down at her own eclectic outfit and gave an internal shrug, at least she was comfortable. She quickly washed her hands, grabbed an order pad and tried to muster up her best smile.
The usual waitress was on holiday today otherwise there was no way she would have gone near cut-throat Camilla without at least a stiff brandy. Preferably two. She noted that Camilla had predictably chosen to sit on the chair with arms and the highest back. She was holding her bag on her lap and twisting a tissue, though, which somewhat spoilt the regal effect.
Camilla looked up from the tea menu with a nervous expression. “Barbara, hello. I was hoping to catch you on your own today. Have you got a minute?”
Babs looked over the empty seats in the room and sat down opposite her. “Looks like you’re my number one priority. What’s on your mind?”
“Well, it’s… something happened the other day and… I wasn’t sure whether or not to tell you but I feel my conscience just wouldn’t be clear if I didn’t. I rather feel that it’s my duty as a woman and as your friend.” Camilla reached out a hand and gave Babs’ a squeeze.
“Tell me what?”
“It’s about Luke.” Camilla looked down. Babs could feel tension rising in her as she realised that Camilla was actually enjoying this. In her own mind Camilla probably imagined she was on a grand stage and the audience were sympathetic to her for being so brave at breaking whatever news was coming.
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry to tell you this but, when I was walking back from church last month I saw him with… someone else.”
Babs went cold.
“There’s more, I’m afraid, and you’re going to have to be very brave. He was with another man.” Camilla sat back, news having been delivered. Babs felt like a small insect under examination.
“Why shouldn’t he have male friends?”
“They were… in an embrace that I would call distinctly passionate. They were just in front of the antique shop behind a car and it’s only by accident that I saw them at all. Barbara, they were in a clinch.”
Barbs felt herself slowly slip away.
“Did I do the right thing by telling you, Barbara? I’ve been in an absolute agony of indecision but in the end my husband said that I should tell you. He was worried about my health, bless him, because I was in turmoil. He’s such a good husband. You would rather know though, wouldn’t you?”
“Um.”
“I’m here for you in your time of trial. Have you been having problems for long? Did you have any idea that he had this perverted tendency?”
“My husband isn’t a pervert! How dare you!”
“Barbara dear, I understand that this must be a terrific shock for you. I can’t imagine how I’d feel if my own husband was found to be unfaithful in such a horrific manner. You’re probably in a bit of shock. How about a cup of tea? Would that help, do you think?”
Barbara hung her head and felt tears rise up. Unable to speak she just nodded.
“Quite right. I’ll have an Earl Grey while you’re there and a slice of your walnut cake, I think. You’re too good for him, Barbara, although I could understand if you wanted to stay with him. I mean, you’re not getting any younger and old age can be a very lonely place on your own.”
“We are the same age, remember?”
Camilla smoothed her jacket over her flat stomach. “Perhaps, but age is kinder to some than others.”
“I’ll get your tea.”
Barbara had moved past shock and had graduated to sheer, raging fury. How dare she be so righteously up herself? How dare she insult her family and her husband? Her hands were shaking as she got Camilla’s tea ready and she was forced to take some deep breaths outside until she got her temper under control. Camilla was mistaken, and wrong, and so full of it she was stinking.
Camilla had a mini compact mirror open and was checking her hair was in place when Babs came through with the tea tray.
“I won’t join you, Camilla. There are some things I need to be getting on with but I hope you enjoy the cake.”
“Thank you.” She gave Babs a sweet smile. “You carry on with what you need to, dear. I’m sure there’s lots you need to organise.”
Not trusting herself to speak, Babs opened the door marked Private and escaped into her own home. Just a few minutes, she promised herself. Just enough time to calm down and I’ll get back to work.
Camilla wasted no time once she found herself alone. She raced into the kitchen and with quiet efficiency worked her way down the long shelf above the workstation looking for ingredients that might be used for the infamous lemon cake. A small bottle of lemon oil was tucked away at the back, behind a pot of chocolate chips. Surely that was likely to form part of the mix?
With slightly trembling hands Camilla unscrewed the lid and luxuriated in the pungent aroma; it was so strong she could have dissolved metal in the essence, but that wasn’t her intention.
From her handbag she removed the bag of her husband’s tablets, powdered now, and gently funnelled them into the liquid. Looking carefully around her, Camilla quickly screwed up the bag and buried it back into her handbag with one hand while swirling the lemon oil with the other. The acidic liquid made short work of the powder and within seconds there was nothing to distinguish the oil from before to after Camilla’s meddling. She put the bottle back on the shelf and went back to her chair.
I deserve to win the cake competition at this year’s fete, thought Camilla, I do more than anyone else for this village so it’s only right that I be recognised for something. If her husband was going to indulge in unsavoury activities then perhaps it was time for the couple to withdraw from village life for a while. Babs was a professional anyway, she should have been disqualified years ago.
Job done, Camilla returned to her tea.
Pam looked up as she heard the door open and gave her most welcoming smile to the man entering. She guessed him to be mid to late forties with greasy hair and a furtive expression; without breaking her smile she slowly closed the door behind her that led to the private living area.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
The new arrival looked along the beer pumps. “I’ll have a pint of that one please, and one for yourself if you like?”
“Very kind, I’ll have a gin and tonic.” Pam never refused a drink when offered in case it seemed like bad manners, and besides a sale was a sale, but she generally ended up pouring it away. She served the drinks and as it was quiet moved around to the customer side of the bar for a chat. “Just finished work?”
Love, Lies and Lemon Cake Page 13