‘Of course I am,’ she said coldly. ‘It’s just a few scratches, that’s all.’ She turned back to the Larssons and smiled again. ‘I’m only sorry it’s held you both up. Now, please fill me in on what you’ve been discussing so far.’
And so the meeting progressed, but Estelle found it almost impossible to keep focused. While she listened and nodded, she felt oddly adrift, as if she might float away from the table unless she kept hold of it. Fortunately Mark seemed to have done some very good groundwork for the deal, so there were only a few loose ends to tie up to finalise everything.
‘We must be leaving now Estelle. We have an appointment in London this evening, and tomorrow we fly back to Sweden,’ Artur Larsson said at last.
‘And you must rest Estelle,’ Freda told her, patting her hand.
‘Oh, I’m fine,’ Estelle told her, smiling with a great effort and standing to shake both their hands. It was a lie. After a night without sleep and precious little to eat all day, she was feeling hot and faint, despite the air-conditioning in the bar. She wasn’t entirely sure how long she would be able to stand up. If they would both just go…
‘I’ll see you both out,’ Mark said, taking control of the situation. ‘Can I leave my things with you for a moment, Estelle?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said vaguely, sinking back down into her seat gratefully. ‘Goodbye Freda. Artur.’
‘Goodbye, Estelle. Take good care of yourself…’
Alone, Estelle closed her eyes. Behind the bar, somebody dropped a glass. Her eyes flicked open again, her heart suddenly racing.
Mark was back. ‘I’ve just seen your car,’ he said. ‘There isn’t a scratch on it. Why don’t you tell me what really happened?’
* * * * *
By five o’clock, Kate was drunk, though not, as far as she was concerned, drunk enough. But she had run out of money, so she lurched out of the Rose and Crown and wove along the High Street towards the cash machine to replenish her funds. There was a small queue of people waiting. The man at the front of the queue turned round.
‘No cash,’ he told them, frowning.
‘Not again!’ the woman in front of Kate said.
‘Fucking hell!’ said Kate more expressively, attracting disapproving stares. ‘About sums this fucking two horse town right up!’ The queue began to disperse.
Without her audience, Kate continued along the High Street, still muttering insults about the town, intending to call into the supermarket to buy something so she could get some cash back. But on her way there she passed Carol De Ville Interiors, recognising it as the shop Janet worked in. On impulse she pushed open the door and went inside. Janet would lend her some money. Maybe she’d even come for a drink with her.
But Janet wasn’t there, only her stuck up five-facelifts boss. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but we’re just about to close,’ she said as soon as she saw Kate, one manicured hand on the telephone as if she were about to call the police.
‘Don’t want to buy any of this poxy load of old tat anyway,’ Kate duly informed her, lurching towards the door again. But then she changed her mind and turned back. ‘But since I’m here,’ she said, stabbing an aggressive finger in Carol De Ville’s direction, ‘I want a word with you about Janet.’
‘What about her?’ Carol De Ville said, shrinking back behind the counter.
‘You’re not nice enough to her,’ Kate said. ‘In fact, you’re a total bitch, that’s what you are.’
‘Now look here,’ Carol De Ville started, but Kate pushed her face across the counter and Carol De Ville had nowhere else to shrink to.
‘No,’ Kate said, still stabbing that finger, ‘you look here! You’d better be nice to Janet in future or else you’ll have me to answer to. Got it?’
Carol De Ville didn’t answer.
‘Got it?’ Kate said even more aggressively, and the other woman nodded.
‘Yes,’ she said with as much hostility as she dared. ‘I’ve got it.’
Kate retreated. ‘Good,’ she said, and left the shop.
Outside she stood for a moment on the pavement, collecting her thoughts. Now where? Oh yes, the shop. Cash. Back to the pub. More booze. But in the end she just bought a bottle of whisky and drank from the bottle as she walked towards the seafront. Maybe Estelle would have a drink with her. Yes, she’d call in and have a chat with Estelle. At least she was as allergic to relationships as Kate was. She’d understand about Geoff.
But Estelle wasn’t there. Kate kept her finger pressed on her door buzzer for ages, but there was no answer, just the sound of seagulls squawking on the roof above. None of her so-called friends was available. They were all much too busy with their own lives to have any time for her.
Lurching even more than ever now, Kate pushed herself away from Estelle’s exclusive apartment building and made her way unsteadily down some steps to the promenade. It was colder here; a strong wind was blowing straight from the sea and the tide was right in, the water edging and booming against the sea wall. So Kate sought the relative protection of an old brick-built shelter, sitting right in one corner with somebody’s old chip papers, out of the wind.
‘Fuck ’em,’ she thought as her eyes closed. ‘Fuck ’em all to hell.’
* * * * *
‘I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home, Mark,’ Estelle said irritably.
‘And I don’t think you are,’ he said calmly, and the maddening thing was, he was probably right. She felt exhausted.
‘I’ll take you home. We can pick up your car tomorrow. I just need to have a cup of coffee first.’
We can pick up your car? Since when had he started making her decisions for her? But he left before she could argue, returning with two cups of coffee and a supply of biscuits.
‘Sugar?’ he asked.
‘No. Thank you.’ He was being very nice to her. She didn’t deserve it; she was always such a bitch to him. And the rest of her staff. Why was that? Why couldn’t she be nice to them? It wasn’t as if she wanted to be generally hated by her employees, it was just the way it had turned out. The only way she could feel in control was by being bossy, but she knew she took it too far sometimes. In truth there probably wasn’t that much to choose between her and bloody Cruella in the popularity stakes, which was a very depressing thought indeed.
Mark offered her the plate of biscuits. She wanted to refuse them, but even she wasn’t that masochistic. She was absolutely starving. Five biscuits later, Mark was smiling at her. She wished he’d stop.
‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ he said, cramming a biscuit into his own mouth.
‘I thought you’d had lunch?’ she said sarcastically.
‘You know what the food in these places is like,’ he shrugged. ‘Beautiful to look at, but very little actual content. Besides, I was busy entertaining Fred and Artur.’
She could tell he hadn’t meant it as a dig, but her own conscience made her take it like that anyway. ‘I’m sorry you were landed in it,’ she said, her voice grudging even though she meant it.
Mark shrugged. ‘No problem.’
Now would be the time to tell him what had happened the previous night if she were ever going to tell him, which she wasn’t. The silence stretched on, filled only by the sound of biscuit crunching. Suddenly Estelle couldn’t stand it any longer. She put her cup down onto its saucer.
‘I really must get back,’ she said.
Mark stood up straight away. ‘Of course.’ He offered her his hand to help her up, and for once she didn’t argue.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and the hand became an arm, ready to support her should she need it. And all the way home to her flat she kept her face turned to the window so he wouldn’t see the stupid vulnerable tears that were just clamouring to be let out.
* * * * *
‘Reen? Reenie? Where are you, love?’
Reenie had no idea how long she had been stuck in the attic. It felt like hours and hours; long enough for her to relive her son’s entire l
ife through the contents of the boxes anyway.
‘Up here!’ she shouted to Ted as loudly as she could. ‘In the roof!’
She heard the ladder creak under his weight. ‘What on earth are you doing up there?’ he asked, but then he stuck his head through the hatch and saw the chaos which had previously been a neat stack of boxes. With her bad ankle, she’d been forced to pull and topple the boxes rather than unpack them carefully, and it showed. Their sacred contents were strewn untidily all over the dusty floor.
‘I’ve hurt myself, love,’ she said, her heart sinking at his grim expression. ‘Been stuck up here all afternoon. Couldn’t get back down.’
‘Serves you right for being so daft as to come up on your own,’ he said gruffly, but he came the rest of the way up anyway and bent over her. ‘What have you done to yourself?’
‘Twisted my ankle. Sprained it, I think.’
Ted sighed. ‘Well, I think you’re going to have to put some weight on it,’ he said. ‘Don’t know how we’re going to get you down otherwise.’
‘All right,’ she said. ‘So long as you’re here to help, eh?’
He didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Yeah.’
An hour later they were in the minor injuries unit at Cromer Hospital, waiting to be seen by a doctor. Ted had hardly spoken two words all the way, and after a while Reenie had stopped trying to keep a conversation going. After the afternoon she’d had, she didn’t feel like speaking anyway. And besides, she was sick and tired of the constant chat, chat, chat she did to fill the spaces of life. Who the hell had given her the role of chief entertainer/counsellor anyway? She didn’t want it anymore. She was sick of it. She perishing well resigned.
But now, sat in the hospital with her ankle throbbing, she couldn’t keep silent any longer. Jade was right. She and Ted did need to finish grieving for Craig if they were ever going to move on. Not to have orgasms – bugger orgasms. They weren’t the priority. Normal life; that was the priority. And how could you live a normal life when both you and your husband were avoiding talking about the very thing that most needed a good airing?
‘I was thinking this afternoon – we need to find homes for some of Craig’s better things,’ she said.
Ted wouldn’t look at her, and she sighed and pressed on. ‘It can’t all stay up there forever, love.’
He picked up a newspaper and opened it, blocking her out.
Reenie touched his arm. ‘Ted…’
‘No.’
She was shocked by the violence in his voice. ‘What d’you mean “no”?’
‘I am not giving his belongings away to all and sundry.’
Other people in the waiting room stopped their conversations to look at them. Aware of the attention they were arousing, Reenie deliberately lowered her voice. ‘But we can’t just– ’
‘I don’t want to talk about it, Reen.’
Reenie looked at her husband, forgetting about their audience. ‘No,’ she said, ‘you never do, do you?’ Sudden tears filled her eyes. ‘You never do want to talk about anything important. I should have liked to have remembered him, I would. Talked about him. So would the girls.’ She started to shout. ‘But we’re not allowed to, are we?’
Ted threw the newspaper down and got up, striding quickly towards the exit.
‘It’s as if he never existed!’ Reenie yelled after him, but he carried right on walking.
A nurse materialised in front of her. ‘Is there a problem here?’
Tears began to slide down Reenie’s cheeks. A problem? I’ve broken my flippin’ ankle and our son’s died and he won’t talk about it. What could possibly be the problem?
Reenie’s ankle wasn’t broken, just badly sprained. After it was strapped up, they lent her some crutches and she found Ted back in reception, waiting for her. Wordlessly, he took her handbag from her so she could cope with the crutches more easily, and they made their silent way out to the car.
* * * * *
Janet knew that if she didn’t act soon, Ray would fall asleep. There was a certain pattern about the sounds and movements he made when he was settling down at night; a series of snuffles, throat clearings and head positionings that rarely varied.
But could she really do it? Lying there listening to Ray’s third throat clearing, Janet doubted herself, despite the fortifying glasses of wine she had downed at speed while Ray had been in the bathroom.
Normally at this stage, Janet would say ‘goodnight,’ Ray would answer, and then roll over onto his side. Ten seconds later he would be asleep.
It was now or never.
Yanking the duvet up, Janet suddenly took the plunge, venturing into the warm darkness of beneath the duvet land and reaching for Ray’s pyjamas.
Taken by total surprise, Ray leapt like a fish. ‘What are you doing?’
Janet heard her husband’s voice coming to her dimly through the duvet, but she had come this far, so she did not allow herself to be deterred now. She had done some research on Ray’s computer into fellatio, and she frantically tried to remember what she’d read now as she got to work. The duvet lifted slightly as Ray took a surprised look. ‘Janet?’
She carried on without replying, and was gratified to receive a twitching response. Very soon afterwards Ray let the duvet fall back again, submitting to her administrations. Perhaps it was the element of surprise, or else the information on the Internet had been particularly good, because it didn’t take very long for him to climax.
Swallowing valiantly and flushed with both success and heat, Janet emerged from beneath the duvet. Despite his post-orgasm breathlessness, Ray was already looking at her quizzically. Janet spoke quickly. ‘Will…will you do it to me, Ray?’ she asked. ‘Please?’
For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to. His gaze locked with hers almost resentfully. ‘What has come over you, Janet?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It just seemed a while since we tried it, that’s all.’
He stared at her for a while longer, and then, reluctantly it seemed to her, he finally slid down beneath the covers. Lying back against the pillows expectantly, her body sensitised to every movement he made, Janet felt Ray’s hands slide her nightdress up, and the warmth of his breath on her private parts as he began to lower his face. She realised she felt…excited. For the first time in a very long while, she was actually looking forward to a sexual act. And if she was looking forward to it, then maybe, just maybe…
But almost immediately Janet knew it wasn’t going to work. As Ray set to with his tongue and mouth, Janet immediately felt unclean. And she wasn’t; she had deliberately had a bath that evening. But something about the way Ray was administering to her made her feel as if she were being…hoovered. She wanted, almost immediately, to tear his head away again, but instead she lay back and suffered the indignity of having another person’s tongue washing out her most private places.
She wasn’t in the least bit surprised when he finally gave up.
‘Thank you, darling,’ she said. ‘That was very… nice.’
He gave her an almost scornful look, reaching for a tissue from the bedside cupboard to wipe his face and not bothering to reply. Then he rolled onto his side away from her, leaving her staring open-eyed into the darkness.
Janet was deeply disappointed. It had most definitely not turned out how it had suggested it would on the Internet. But her curiosity demanded to be satisfied about one more thing. ‘Ray?’ she said.
‘What?’ His voice was irritable.
Janet’s heart beat quickly at her daring. ‘What do I taste like?’ she asked.
There was a pause. She thought he’d fallen asleep.
‘Ray?’ she said, and finally he answered.
‘Musk,’ he said, his voice resentful and sulky. ‘Dusky musk.’
Twenty-six
‘There are now three weeks left until Orgasm Night,’ Jade told Janet, Kate and Reenie.
Beside Janet, Kate snorted; a sound of deep scepticism which, after the o
ther night, Janet agreed with wholeheartedly.
Jade ignored the grunt. ‘I have every confidence in you all,’ she gushed on.
‘Well, it’s more than I do, Jade,’ Reenie said despondently.
Jade smiled kindly at her. ‘You’ve all come a very long way since the course started,’ she said. ‘Fulfilment can and will be yours. Now, does anybody know if we can expect Estelle today?’
Kate shrugged. She looked ill to Janet, and she was definitely less talkative than she had been of late. In fact, she looked a lot like the surly Kate of old, and Janet wondered why. Maybe something had happened.
‘Haven’t heard anything from her, Jade,’ Reenie said, adjusting her leg with a wince. Poor Reenie, something had certainly happened to her. That ankle looked really painful. Imagine getting stuck in the attic for all that time. It must have been horrible.
‘I haven’t heard from Estelle either,’ Janet told Jade. ‘Perhaps she’s busy at work.’
Jade nodded. ‘I’ll phone her later,’ she said. ‘She needs to know the date of Orgasm Night, and the work we’re going to do in the next few weeks is vital to your success.’
‘What exactly are we supposed to do on this Orgasm Night?’ Reenie asked, and Kate’s laugh was mocking.
‘Duh…!’ she said, and Reenie flushed.
‘All right,’ she said, ‘I’m not stupid. I know we’re supposed to have an orgasm on Orgasm Night, but I just don’t know how it’s supposed to happen when none of us has had one yet, that’s all!’
‘Yes,’ Janet said. ‘That’s what I was thinking too.’
Jade was still smiling. For the first time, Janet felt a flicker of irritation. It was all very well for Jade to stand there like the proverbial cat who’d got the cream, but none of them had had so much so much as skimmed milk yet!
Unless Estelle had struck lucky? Unless that was why she wasn’t here today? Because she was at home being made love to by her married lover, on the receiving end of stupendous, mind-blowing orgasms?
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