The Goddess Workshop

by Margaret K Johnson

  Janet laughed. ‘But it was fantastic. And you’re right. It could be the start of me being more daring altogether, if I let it.’

  ‘Before you know it you’ll be turning your back on Coronation Street and ripping that newspaper out of his steely clutches,’ Estelle joked.

  ‘Ray would have a fit if I did that,’ Janet said. ‘He hates his Times to be creased.’

  They giggled. ‘You’ll be too busy kneeling on the carpet unbuttoning his flies prior to fellatio.’

  Janet’s wine went down the wrong way and her coughing and spluttering caused Reenie and Kate to glance over from the fruit machine.

  Laughing, Estelle slapped Janet on the back. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You have no idea how impossible that is to imagine,’ Janet told her after she had recovered.

  ‘Don’t you do oral sex?’ Estelle asked.

  ‘No!’ Janet said, red-faced. ‘Well, at least, we did. Once or twice. Ray wanted to. But I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, and I don’t think I was very good at it. And… when Ray did it to me, I remember feeling so… embarrassed.’

  Estelle frowned. ‘Why?’

  Janet’s face was red. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘I suppose I wasn’t very confident that I tasted very nice. And of course, I still didn’t have an orgasm anyway, so he got discouraged. Anyway, for one reason or another, we eventually stopped doing it.’

  The flat tone of Janet’s voice conjured up an image of functional sex with very little foreplay. A pretty joyless part of the week’s routine, along with the viewing of particular television programmes.

  Poor Janet.

  ‘I asked my lover what I tasted like once,’ Estelle said to cheer her friend up.

  Janet glanced up, looking astonished and embarrassed. ‘Did you?’ she asked. ‘Oh my goodness!’

  Estelle grinned, remembering the moment well. The bedside lamp had been on, and for a few seconds RT’s expression had been totally transparent. ‘Well, he said I tasted like “dusky musk”, whatever that is.’

  ‘Dusky musk,’ Janet repeated, fascinated.

  Estelle nodded. ‘Yes. Mind you, his face said something entirely different.’

  Janet was agog. ‘What?’ she asked.

  ‘Fish!’

  When Janet burst out laughing, Estelle joined her. It was funny now, looking back on it.

  ‘What are you two creased up about?’ Kate returned to the table, flushed with success from her jackpot win.

  Reenie wasn’t far behind. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Share the joke!’

  Estelle explained.

  ‘Blimey!’ Reenie said with a grin.

  And suddenly they were off again, Janet clutching her stomach she was laughing so hard, drawing glances from everyone nearby. Then somewhere in the middle of it, Reenie’s mobile began to ring. Shoulders still shaking, she got it out of her capacious handbag and answered it semi-incoherently.

  ‘Oh, hello, Ted. Sorry, one of the girls just told a joke. No, I can’t tell you what about now. It’s too rude. I’ll tell you later. What’s that?’ Reenie began to laugh again, looking at the others, her eyes dancing merrily. ‘He wants to know what we’re having for tea,’ she told them then spoke into her phone again. ‘What about a nice bit of fish?’

  Even Kate had to hoot with laughter at that. It was the end to a good day. Or almost the end.

  ‘So, you’ll carry on coming to the classes Estelle?’ Janet asked her later, and Estelle smiled.

  ‘I’ll carry on coming,’ she said, but Kate swiftly corrected her.

  ‘No, Estelle,’ she said. ‘You’ll start coming. We all will!’

  ‘I’ll drink to that!’ Reenie said

  ‘To coming!’ they all said, clinking their glasses together.

  Twenty-three

  Estelle didn’t sleep well that night. In the end she got up, made herself a cup of decaf and stood looking out of the lounge window in her silk dressing gown to drink it. The sea was invisible in the darkness, but somehow the knowledge that it was there was soothing. Or at least, it was usually soothing.

  Today had been fun, lots of fun. Those who knew Estelle as a hard-nosed businesswoman would have been astounded to have seen her laughing with the girls in the pub, a bona fide paid-up member of a girlie gang. She definitely hadn’t been somebody who kept people at arm’s length today. She had felt warm towards all of the girls, not just Janet. They had all unwound with each other, even Kate. She was a very funny woman, Kate, when she forgot to be quite so hostile and cynical.

  Yes, today Estelle had certainly made connections, and she knew Jade would definitely approve. But the trouble with making connections was that you got used to it. Then, when it ended, when you were out of that bath of warm humanity and back into the cold, real world again, everything seemed just that little bit colder, that little bit more lonely. Coming back to her pristine, immaculate flat with the rest of the evening stretched out before her had been a thoroughly deflating experience.

  Normally Estelle enjoyed being on her own, having some space away from the bustle of running her own business. But that evening, as she sat flicking restlessly through the television channels with a glass of wine, she found herself thinking about Reenie. Judging by what Reenie said, the Richardson household was at its best chaotic, and at its worst, bedlam. Estelle couldn’t imagine what it would be like to constantly surrounded by people the way Reenie was, with her grown-up daughters and their children constantly popping in and out of the house. It sounded like an endless cycle of meal preparation, clearing up and noisy chatter, and it was a safe bet that Reenie didn’t have time on her hands to think the way Estelle sometimes did. It was obvious too that Reenie had a very good marriage, despite her lack of orgasms.

  No, that level of bustle and human involvement wasn’t what Estelle wanted for herself. But…a small piece of it might be nice. Not having ever really experienced it, she wasn’t entirely sure, but just lately she seemed to have been developing an increasing desire to find out.

  Suddenly Estelle realised her cheeks were wet, and she brushed the tears away angrily. She was tired of feeling sorry for herself. OK, so she hadn’t had a happy childhood. So what? She was hardly the only person in the world who could say that. And what good did dwelling on that kind of stuff do after all? The past was dead and buried.

  Yet somehow it didn’t seem to want to remain that way any longer, and when Sunday turned out to be another sunny day, Estelle decided on impulse to do something about it. Snatching up her car keys before she had a chance to change her mind, she quickly left her apartment and drove off towards Cambridge to visit her parents.

  It was ten years since she’d last seen them. The occasion had been their silver wedding anniversary, and when Estelle had received the formal printed invitation to a celebratory dinner party, she had thrown it away. There hadn’t even been a scrawled note on the back of it; nothing. It was as if she were a business colleague or a distant relation, not their daughter. But then, on the night of the party, she had somehow found herself rifling through her wardrobe for something to wear and phoning Rashid, her lover of the time, to tell him to get into his dinner jacket.

  Rashid’s jaw dropped when he saw her. She was wearing a long dress of ivory satin with a plunging neckline, and her red hair was piled up on top of her head with sexy escaping tendrils framing her neck. The whole look was classily set off by the ruby pendant she had bought for herself to celebrate the first substantial deal of Estelle Morgan Enterprises, and Rashid was all for forgetting the party and getting her out of the ivory satin as quickly as possible. But now Estelle’s mind was made up about going to the party, she wasn’t about to back down, so they set off in her car. When it quickly became clear that Estelle wasn’t in the mood for conversation, Rashid settled down for a sulky sleep, his long, attractive black eyelashes closing over his beautiful dark eyes.

  Although Estelle had no desire for Rashid to be anything more than her lover, he was definitely a stunning man, and the perfect
trophy escort. Rashid turned heads wherever they went, and with his easy charm he was inevitably popular at parties. Rashid and the ruby pendant were both intended to say the same thing to her parents – ‘Look how well I’ve done without you!’

  But as they neared Cambridge, a feeling of dread began to creep steadily over her. Rashid was still soundly asleep, so there was no one to maintain a front for – because there was no way Estelle would have confided in her lover about the sick feeling in her stomach or the clamminess of her skin beneath the ivory satin. Real emotion wasn’t a part of the unspoken deal she had with Rashid – the deal was sex and entertainment, that was all.

  Real emotion wasn’t normally part of the deal Estelle had with herself either. She preferred to be task and achievement orientated rather than reflective and sentient. It was safer that way.

  So what the hell are you doing coming here? a nagging voice had asked her. Why don’t you turn round and go back before it’s too late?

  But somehow she hadn’t turned back; some masochistic compulsion had kept her en route to her parents’ house. And the same compulsion kept her en route now, ten years later. She was an adult after all – a successful woman with a thriving business who had achieved far more than her parents ever had. They couldn’t hurt her. Though she remembered thinking much the same thing ten years previously with Rashid asleep by her side, and it hadn’t been true then, so no doubt it wouldn’t be true now.

  Despite all the years she had spent in boarding school, the countryside was very familiar as she approached Langley Bottom, the village outside which her parents had lived all their married lives. Over the years, a succession of nannies had walked Estelle along these dull lanes bordered by stark agricultural land on the way to the village shop in an effort to relieve the tedium of rural life, and it was round about here too that Rashid had woken up, stretching his long legs and peering disapprovingly into the impenetrable blackness out of the car window.

  ‘Mother of God,’ he said. ‘You’ve brought me to the very back of beyond, Estelle.’

  He hadn’t been far wrong either, Estelle thought dryly now, eyeing the desolate countryside with dislike. But she remembered how his attitude had changed when she’d turned into the drive of Hopkins, her parents’ home, and he’d caught his first glimpse of the impressive frontage of the house.

  ‘Now that’s more like it,’ he said, sitting up straighter in his seat, suddenly all beady-eyed and eager.

  Estelle hadn’t cared whether Rashid approved or not. In fact, she was half regretting bringing him along at all. If she’d been hoping for a man to hide behind, then she was sure she would be quickly disappointed. Rashid was the type to spread his charm widely rather than to reserve it for her exclusive use. Very likely she wouldn’t see much of him at all after the first ten minutes or so.

  But after Estelle had parked the car, Rashid surprised her by offering his arm to escort her into the house, making her wonder whether if, somewhere within his not overly intelligent interior, Rashid was aware of his chief role – that of assisting her to make the maximum immediate impact. And with his black hair and his dark eyes, and her all cream-and-gold-glamour and sophistication, that was precisely the effect they had as they made their entrance. Though they might just as well have been dressed in sackcloth for all the notice Estelle’s mother took of them.

  Sonia Morgan was standing by the grand piano talking to a group of friends – a piano that Estelle was quite sure had never been played in all the years it had been in the house. Deep in conversation as she was, Sonia spotted Estelle immediately, but true to character, she continued with her conversation, despite a long moment when her gaze locked with her daughter’s. Of Estelle’s father, there was no sign at all, and it was only when one of Sonia’s oldest friends rushed forward to greet Estelle with over-the-top enthusiasm that Sonia finally broke away from her group to come and greet her.

  ‘Hello, Estelle,’ she said coolly, offering her cheek to be kissed. ‘We weren’t expecting you since you didn’t RSVP to your invitation. I’m afraid you won’t be able to sit with us at dinner; it would be far too difficult to change the seating plan at this late stage.’

  Estelle flushed. ‘Hello, Mother,’ she said. ‘Happy Anniversary.’

  Sonia nodded coolly, her gaze washing over every inch of her daughter’s appearance, and settling at last on Estelle’s ruby pendant.

  Before she could make any comment, Rashid, who wasn’t used to being ignored, thrust his hand out in Sonia’s direction. ‘I’m Rashid,’ he smiled. ‘And seeing that you have the same drop dead good looks as Estelle, I’m assuming that you must be her mother.’

  Poor Rashid. Even he withered slightly beneath the frosty response this innocent comment inspired. Regarding him as if he were the lowest species of pond life, Sonia Morgan didn’t even bother to honour him with a reply.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said coldly. ‘I must attend to my other guests. I’ll catch up with you later, Estelle.’ And off she went.

  ‘What a bitch,’ Rashid said under his breath, and suddenly Estelle felt glad she had brought him along after all.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed, taking his arm. ‘Come on, let’s get ourselves a large drink.’

  Ten years on, as Estelle approached the turning for Hopkins, there was no Rashid at her side to soften the ordeal. She didn’t even really know what had happened to him after they’d split up, beyond a rumour that he had hooked up with a wealthy older woman. Rashid always had been allergic to work.

  Despite his shallowness, Rashid hadn’t been that bad really, and Estelle smiled briefly, remembering the way he had yanked her around the dance floor that night, subjecting her and her sophisticated cream ivory to wild rock and roll twirls more suited to a bawdy wedding reception than to her parents’ refined silver wedding anniversary celebrations.

  The turning to Hopkins was up ahead. Estelle’s heart suddenly began to race. She indicated right, but as she began to turn into the drive, she saw the estate agent’s sign.

  Sold.

  Shocked to the core, Estelle braked sharply, stop-ping the car halfway across the road. The car behind her had to swerve crazily in order to avoid hitting her, and its driver shouted obscenities at her out of his window before roaring away.

  Somehow Estelle managed to pull herself together enough to drive on past the turning until she reached a lay-by up ahead. There she sat, gripping the wheel, fury swiftly overtaking the shock. OK, so there was no love lost between her and her parents, but she was still their daughter. Were they even going to bother to tell her they were moving away?

  Frustration followed hard on the heels of the shock and the anger. She had come all this way to confront the ghosts of her past, and now it seemed as if that was all she was going to find at Hopkins – ghosts. Though maybe they hadn’t actually moved yet? Taking the car keys from the ignition, Estelle grabbed her handbag, got out of the car and began to walk quickly back down the road towards the entrance to Hopkins to find out.

  The house was set back from the road at the end of a long, winding driveway, and as Estelle walked along it, it began to rain, slow, large drops that bounced off the laurels on either side of the driveway. She carried on walking oblivious, but it wasn’t until she got round the final bend that she saw the cars parked out the front of the house – a gaudy yellow sports car and an antique Rolls-Royce, neither of which were her parents’ style. So they had moved, but presumably fairly recently, since the Sold sign was still up.

  Estelle paused, uncertain what to do next, but then the heavens really opened and she acted on instinct, heading for the nearest shelter, which happened to be the summerhouse. Nobody came out to stop her, so she let herself in and closed the door. Inside, the room was empty apart from a couple of neglected plants in plant pots, and although it was logical that her parents’ battered old sofas would have been removed, the stark emptiness still came as a shock. The summerhouse had been the same for as long as she could remember.

  Estell
e looked around her, feeling suddenly cold. It had been a mistake to come in here. Bad memories were swooping down on her, and she was powerless to stop them. Her fourteenth birthday party – she and Scott, a boy from a class, sneaking out to the summer-house together. Kissing, giggling, the moon shining down on them where they lay on the sofa. Then suddenly the door had opened, and she and Scott had sprung apart, thinking it was her father. But it hadn’t been her father; it had been Tim Lawrence, her father’s business friend.

  ‘What’s going on in here?’ he’d said. ‘Something I ought to tell your father about, Estelle?’

  ‘Please don’t,’ Estelle begged. She really liked Scott, and her father would just ruin everything. He’d never let her see him again.

  Tim Lawrence looked in Scott’s direction. ‘You;’ he said. ‘Out.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Scott said, and went.

  Estelle made to follow him, but Tim put out a hand to stop her. ‘Not so fast, Estelle,’ he said. Then he held her by the arms and looked at her, his eyes travelling over her body in a way that made her flesh crawl. Just minutes before, Scott had looked at her in the same way. But that had been different. Nice. But this… Estelle felt afraid.

  ‘Let go of me,’ she said, struggling to get free.

  ‘I don’t think I will,’ Tim said. ‘You obviously came in here for a reason. I think you should get what you came for.’

  And suddenly he was kissing her, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth and his fingers digging into her flesh. He smelled of cigar smoke and booze, and with his repulsive tongue thrusting into her throat, Estelle felt as if she couldn’t breath. One hairy hand delved lower, pressing its way between her legs, pulling up her skirt. Desperately, Estelle kicked out with the heel of her shoe and made contact with his shin.

  ‘You little bitch!’ Tim’s grasp loosened enough for her to make her escape, and she managed to break free from him, fleeing from the summerhouse and running back to the safety of the house and the party. Her hair was streaming down her back, her make-up was smudged, and her eyes were wild. Her parents were dancing together in the big hallway. They looked up as she tore through the door. There was no time to compose herself.