Ellie looked across to the café and sighed. The market was quiet and seemed bereft of atmosphere after the Christmas festivities. A little like myself, she thought, feeling melancholy. Tom had sent a text the night before to tell her he wouldn’t have time to come and see her today as he was determined to finish his next two assignments before the end of the week. But he’d also told her to expect an email later with his work and hoped she would send her comments and thoughts back quickly. In a way, Ellie grumped, I’m beginning to feel more like his tutor than his girlfriend. With a heavy sigh, she knew that what they shared now wasn’t a proper relationship, it wasn’t enough, and she’d long since decided she wanted more.
Earlier, Darren had brought her a mug of coffee across to the bookstall and after a brief catch-up about the New Year parties he’d attended, Ellie knew for certain her relationship with Tom was unusual. But there again, she wondered, sipping the warm coffee, just because we don’t do normal things that other couples do, does that make us abnormal?
Ellie served an old lady who, having read her three novels over the Christmas holiday, wanted to exchange them. Then she sat on her stool again, wrapping her fingers round the coffee mug. Ellie sighed, knowing that although she and Tom had never talked about their future together and what it might hold at length, the one thing she did know for certain now was she wanted more than afternoon sex and a chat.
A notebook that contained her character descriptions lay at the side of the cash till. She idly flipped it over, remembering how she used to write in it every day up until she’d met Tom. And that was another thing, she grimaced, Tom was progressing in leaps and bounds with his writing, whereas I seem to be stuck in exactly the same place with my novel. Ellie frowned, he is taking over my life and thoughts, but maybe not in the sparkly love-struck way that he had at first.
She pulled her shoulders back in determination – I’m going to ask him to take me away for a long weekend in a good hotel, somewhere nice, and if he makes up another excuse then I’ll definitely take a stand and insist on a serious talk about our relationship. And this time, she decided, I won’t be swayed with his love making, although that’s not an easy temptation to resist, she grinned.
*
Anne wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed to do it, but she’d got through New Year’s Eve and Day without saying a word to Tom about the affair. She’d feigned a dodgy stomach, which she told Tom was probably part of the flu bug, and they’d refused invitations to parties. As she lay on the bed, popping in and out of the bathroom at intervals so that Tom would believe her excuse, he stated that he wasn’t really bothered about going out and hadn’t seemed perturbed in the slightest.
As his usual amiable self, he spent both days in front of the computer, writing a travel article about Barcelona, and had attempted to write a review for a TV program. The tutor had asked for facts and the content of the TV program to be briefly described and wanted an impression formed by Tom himself, the reviewer. He had to write the review as if the piece would be published in The Radio Times. Tom found notes from the first episode of a culinary program he’d enjoyed watching. He wrote:
HESTON’S VICTORIAN FEAST.
Heston Blumenthal has been described as a ‘culinary alchemist’ for his innovative style of cuisine. In this series, Heston cooked his way through history with a brief re-cap on the Victorians’ and explained his love of the story, ‘Alice in Wonderland’. His challenge was to cook a Victorian meal for a group of six celebrity guests, which was his own version of The Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.
His menu included:
Aperitif: His version of Alice’s mind-expanding ‘Drink-Me’ potion.
Starter: Mock Turtle Soup
Main course: An edible garden with insects.
Dessert: A glowing, wobbling, absinthe jelly.
There were six flavours in Alice’s drink: toffee, hot buttered toast, cherry pie, custard, pineapple, and turkey. Heston described the whole process of making flavours by an infusion method with a tea bag. The drink was served to his guests in glasses that were in the shape of a test tube with a drinking funnel on the side.
Turtle soup was the ultimate Victorian status symbol, but nowadays it is not available in the EU. Therefore Heston made a cheaper version of the soup, (called Mock Turtle Soup), using a calf’s head.
He also created a Mock Turtle Egg and served it with cubes of black truffle and mushrooms. The fob watch as in a tea cup at the table and hot water was poured on top.
In the edible garden, Heston used all manner of vegetables, carrots, sprouts, fennel, asparagus, and minutely chopped black olives to resemble soil.
The huge, wobbling, fluorescent green jelly was hailed a monumental success and devoured with relish by the celebrities, ignoring all warnings of a hang-over the next morning. It created a spectacular finish to 'The Mad Hatter's Tea Party' where the guests all felt that they truly were in Wonderland.
*
In itself, Tom’s behaviour gave Anne more food for thought. If he was having a torrid, passionate affair with Ellie, why wasn’t he telling more lies in an effort to go and meet her, especially over New Year? Maybe, Anne thought, it was just a friendly affair as she was helping him with his writing and they weren’t having sex? But, she shook her head in disbelief at her pathetic attempt at self-denial. I have to wise up, she scolded herself, and get rid of the rose-tinted glasses.
Anne did, however, have a plan. While Tom remained glued to his computer on Monday morning, she carefully dressed in what she thought of as her most elegant outfit. She stood in front of the full length mirror in the bedroom and looked at herself. In a red pencil skirt and white blouse, she pulled her shoulders back and tried to bolster up as much self-esteem as possible. She usually wore the blouse over the skirt in an effort to hide her roll of flab, but she knew the fashion was to tuck the blouse inside the waist band. She did this and pulled on a navy fitted jacket. With one button fastened she stood back from the mirror and slipped her feet into navy stiletto heels. She smiled with satisfaction; the outfit did look much better. She brushed her long hair up into a high pony-tail that swished a little as she moved and, with a sweep of blusher on her cheeks and a coating of a new red lipstick, she felt ready for action.
Calling cheerio to Tom, she left the house and jumped into her Micra. Anne had rang work on Friday to inform them of her upset stomach and the HR department had insisted that she didn’t return to work at the food factory until she’d been clear of symptoms for forty eight hours. Therefore, as she pulled out on to the West Road, she took a deep breath, knowing she had two days to sort this mess out with Tom before returning to work.
Anne’s stomach and bowels churned at the thought of what she was about to do as she drove down the main road. It’ll be the price of you for telling lies, she could hear her father say, and prayed she wouldn’t need the toilet before she reached her destination. Finding a parking space in the multi-storey car park, Anne carefully checked her appearance in the mirror before climbing out of the car. Thankfully the strong winds from the day before had dropped and, as she gingerly tottered across the car park in her stiletto heels, she knew her hairstyle would hold. Anne looked up into the sky, deciding the miserable grey day suited her mood perfectly.
She exited the car park into The Haymarket area and wove her way through the streets to the centre of town. She stopped inside a solicitor’s doorway, pulled her jacket lapels down, and took a few deep breaths. It was the same company that had handled her father’s affairs when he died. Anne pressed her lips firmly together in an effort to push the memories from her mind. She did, however, recall how stoic she’d managed to be during those dreadful months, and this filled her with renewed confidence as she moved forward swiftly and turned into a side street. If I can get through my father’s death alone then this, she thought, should be a breeze. Ahead of her were the open doors to the Grainger Market and she swung through them with her head held high.
Although Anne didn’t kno
w where exactly Ellie would be, she’d decided that if the young butcher knew Ellie by name it was obvious that she worked in the market somewhere. Once again, she walked towards the café in the centre, looking up and down the aisles, hoping to catch sight of her. Let’s face it, Anne thought, Ellie was such a strikingly beautiful girl that someone would be bound to know where she worked.
At nearly eleven in the morning the market was busy and Anne looked at people sitting in the open café area drinking coffee and sharing snacks. An old waitress pushed past her carrying a tray and as she stood aside to make room for her, Anne caught sight of Ellie’s red hair. Of course, Anne cried, she must work in the bookstall; obviously that’s how Tom had met her.
Ellie was serving a man from behind the counter and placing the books he’d bought into a carrier bag. Anne stepped cautiously towards the stall. Now remember, she told herself, Ellie doesn’t know who I am, and hasn’t, to my knowledge, ever seen what I look like. This, Anne reasoned, should give me time to take a good long look at my rival.
Anne stood in front of the romantic fiction books on the corner stand. Fortunately, there was a decorative mirror hanging on the opposite wall from the cash till, where Ellie sat perched on a stool and Anne could watch her movements. Anne’s heart was beating much faster than usual and her lips were dry. Now she’d come this far she wasn’t too sure how to start the conversation with Ellie. As she’d driven down into town she had tried to form sentences of her intent in a reasonable manner, which was to ask Ellie to leave her husband alone. She hoped to find a calm and rational way of saying it with as little upset as possible, because the last thing she wanted was to end up in tears and make a fool of herself.
But now, as she looked at Ellie’s long skinny legs in jeans and a green round-neck jumper with her curly hair tumbling around her pretty face, Anne’s heart hardened. Ellie’s head was bowed as she was obviously texting someone on her mobile and Anne watched her fingers move confidently across the keys.
Was she sending Tom a text? Anne’s mind worked in overdrive now and she clenched her teeth together, feeling consumed with jealousy. How dare this girl play around with her husband? She was probably a chancer, a low-life tart looking to latch herself on any unsuspecting man that came her way. She could, for all we know, have more than Tom on the go at the same time. Or, Anne raged, maybe she had a string of younger boyfriends and was simply playing Tom for an old fool to see what she could get out of him.
Fuelled with these irrational thoughts, Anne stepped forward. ‘Good morning,’ she said. ‘I’m Mrs Shepherd and I believe you know my husband?’
Anne watched Ellie look up swiftly from the mobile and could see the look of bewilderment flood across her pretty face.
Anne spat his name out, ‘Mr TOM Shepherd?’
If Anne had hoped to gain any satisfaction from seeing Ellie today she received it just by the look of total and abhorrent shock in the young girl’s eyes. Anne saw her face begin to crumble. Her flawless skin paled to a ghostly hue and her perfect, full lips parted as her mouth literally fell open.
‘W…what?’
Filled with an authority Anne didn’t know she possessed, she pulled her shoulders back and allowed her lips to settle into a smirk of satisfaction. It was only as she tore her eyes from Ellie’s face and looked down at her huge chest that she spotted the gold necklace as it caught the light and sparkled.
It can’t be, she thought, taking a step nearer the cash desk and Ellie. Anne gaped at the gold locket with a single red stone in the corner which hung on a chain around Ellie’s long slim neck. Anne gave a stifled cry. It was exactly the same locket that she herself wore inside her blouse.
The bastard, she seethed, the God forsaken bastard had bought them both the same locket! Anne felt quite giddy and her heart began to thump. Her hands shook as she pushed one inside her blouse and pulled the chain and locket into view. She held it between her fingers and saw Ellie stare at it, dumbfounded.
Ellie gasped and automatically put her hand to her throat, rubbing the heart-shaped locket between her fingers and thumb. ‘But he gave me this on Christmas D…Day,’ she stuttered.
Anne thought it looked as if Ellie was trying to draw some help and comfort from the locket that Tom had given her. Anne was now finding it difficult to focus. The whole of her insides raged with an anger that was totally alien to her. A pounding began in her ears as she put both her hands behind her neck and with shaky fingers tried to undo the locket’s clasp. It wouldn’t loosen and she felt sweat form along her top lip. She wanted to scream and lash out at this girl who had ruined her marriage. Savagely, Anne ripped the locket from her own neck and threw it to the ground. Purposely, she stared down at the locket and then ground the heel of her stiletto into it until it buckled and split under the pressure.
She heard a small yelp from Ellie and raised her eyes to see her jump down from the stool and back away behind her desk. Ellie grabbed her mobile and Anne could see the terror in her eyes.
I’m behaving like a crazed psycho, Anne thought, and began to take deep breaths until she felt more in control. Her heart slowed, but her legs began to tremble as she took stock of what had happened and how she’d behaved. Her mouth and throat were dry, but she still managed to croak, ‘Leave him alone; please leave my husband alone.’
Anne took two steps backwards as she saw Ellie step forward to her.
Ellie’s hands wrung together and her eyes roved wildly around the bookstall. ‘But I didn’t know,’ she cried as big tears began to spill from her eyes. ‘Tom said you’d died in a car accident on Christmas Eve.’
Now it was Anne’s turn to stagger back in shock and horror. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a cry. No more, her mind screamed, I simply can’t take any more. She began to feel dizzy, and a cold sensation spread across her chest. Her cheeks flushed and burned as she stepped further and further away from Ellie, staggering backwards to the open doorway of the bookstall.
Ellie moved towards her with the palms of her hands upturned, pleading to be believed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. Really, I’m truly sorry. I honestly didn’t know he was still married,’ she wailed. ‘I…I can’t believe all the lies he’s told me.’
Anne turned and managed to negotiate the step down from the stall with wobbling legs in her stiletto heels. Drawing deep breaths, she began to walk away slowly towards the café, and she saw the young butcher hurry to Ellie and wrap her in his arms as she cried into his apron.
Walking a little unsteadily, Anne made her way to the exit. When she reached the door from the market she stopped still and laid the side of her head wearily against the cool brick façade. As Ellie’s words tumbled around in her mind, ‘he told me you’d died in a car accident,’ Anne squeezed her eyes tight shut, suppressing a huge sob - what type of a man am I married to?
Chapter Fourteen
WHAT SURROUNDS BARCELONA?
Had enough of the Olympic village, which you may remember from 1992, when the arrow missed the torch and didn’t light, and the magnificent National Palace? After seeing the stupendous architecture that is Gaudi exploding in the Sagrada Familia, are you craving a little peace and quiet? Then venture further afield and explore the Catalonian area that surrounds Barcelona. Most people visiting the city of Barcelona fly into the airport and don’t leave the city. And who is to blame them, but there are some delightful places around the city that are also well worth a visit.
Tarragona, a smaller port city 98km from Barcelona, and well served by bus and train links, has an abundance of Spanish culture and lifestyle. From Roman remains to a spectacular cathedral, it contains a number of small bars, restaurants, and cafes serving tapas, local seafood and Catalan dishes. Hotel prices are reasonable and, coupled with a warm Mediterranean climate, it makes a perfect venue to explore. During your stay in Tarragona take a trip to Mont Blanc, a fascinating mediaeval village, and wander through the quiet sleepy streets, because the only traffic allowed is for local residents.
Gi
rona, 99km North West of Barcelona is a beautiful old city with the river Onyar running through the centre, which makes one reminiscent of Florence in Italy. The ancient cathedral is one of the most important monuments of the school of the Majorcan architect, Jaume Fabre, and an excellent example of Catalan Gothic architecture. Why not take a leisurely walk through the old town, visit the museums and the historic buildings, wander through the streets and squares, and discover the tourist attractions, festivals, restaurants, and cultural events?.
Finally, no holiday to this area of Spain is complete without a visit to Santa Maria de Montserrat Monastery, which lies 4,055 feet above the valley and is truly a stupendous sight. 48km North West of Barcelona, it may be reached by road, train or cable car which lifts you up the well-developed hairpin curves until you reach the top. The main abbey is a sight to behold, and the Basilica houses a museum with works of art by Dali and Picasso. Many of the tourists travel here of the statue of the Black Madonna, patron saint of Catalonia - the figure of the 12th century throne on the high altar in the Basilica of the monastery.
Tom sat back in satisfaction and re-read the article. He hadn’t been given a word count by the tutor, but figured this was a reasonable length, and hoped he’d managed to incorporate the necessary points when writing a non-fiction article. He had included the facts and snippets of information without making it too personal, but then worried if the jaunty slant at the beginning was too much.
Leaning back in his chair, Tom folded his hands behind his neck and stretched his aching limbs and back. He glanced at the clock in the corner of the computer screen and realised that as usual he’d spent much longer at the desk than he’d intended. He felt swamped with coursework, but was loving every minute. In particular, he decided, the research into different subjects was fascinating and he felt as though he was soaking up vast amounts of knowledge while writing his assignments. Closing the document, he thought about Barcelona and wondered if Anne might like it for their next summer holiday.
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