‘Bloody hell!’ Reenie said. ‘She’s a friend of mine too!’
Marcia listened to the report with her. ‘Shit, Mum,’ she said, ‘all your friends are criminals!’
‘Shh!’ Reenie said. The reporter was outside Estelle’s work now, catching people as they left.
‘Excuse me, can you tell me what you know about Ms Morgan’s arrest at the weekend?’ she asked, but everybody kept their head down and kept on walking, so finally the reporter addressed the camera again.
‘At her company headquarters, Ms Morgan has a reputation for being quite a stern employer, and as you can see, everybody here is too frightened to speak to me today. We may not know exactly why Ms Morgan smashed up the summerhouse, but the truth about one thing is now well and truly out, and that’s the real nature of the business of Estelle Morgan Enterprises. I can exclusively reveal that this is what they deal in behind these doors.’
Grinning, the reporter held up a skimpy, transparent bra and an incomplete-looking pair of panties. ‘This is Clare Walker reporting from Estelle Morgan Enterprises in not so sleepy Shelthorpe on Sea.’
‘Blimey,’ said Reenie.
The back door opened.
‘Dad!’ Marcia said. ‘One of Mum’s friends is a prostitute! She’s just been on the telly!’
‘Estelle is not a prostitute,’ Reenie said. ‘She’s a businesswoman. A what d’you call it. Importer. Exporter.’
‘Yeah of kinky knickers! Bet she wears them for her clients!’
‘For the last time, Marcia, Estelle is not a prostitute!’
Reenie whirled round to glare at Marcia and was just in time to see her husband’s back as he left the room. So, he wasn’t even speaking to her now then. No doubt he was blaming her for the car being written off.
‘Mum,’ Marcia was saying, pointing to the television. ‘This is it. About Mrs Mitchell punching that copper.’
Reenie looked bad-temperedly back at the television, but instantly forgot all about Ted as she saw Kate running alongside a cement mixer and straight towards a policeman. Pulling her arm back, she socked him one right across the face.
‘God almighty,’ Reenie said. ‘Kate, girl, what have you gone and done?’
* * * * *
When the cookery competition was over, Janet watched a soap. But the storylines seemed tame after the reality of her life, and when the news came on, she switched the television off. She couldn’t cope with the problems of the world. She had too many of her own to deal with.
She still hadn’t decided what she was going to do. There were only two real options: to go on as normal for the moment and pretend nothing had happened, or to confront Ray with the truth.
In the end, mainly because her brain felt full of fog, she decided not to say anything for now. There was no point, not until she knew what she wanted to happen. Ray was so clever with words he was bound to tie her up in knots, and she needed time to think. Ideally she would have liked to have gone away somewhere to do her thinking, but where could she go without arousing his suspicions?
‘You’re late back,’ Ray greeted her from behind his newspaper when she got back.
‘I went to Mum’s.’
‘Good.’ He lowered the paper and caught sight of her face. ‘It had to be done. But I realise it can’t have been easy, sorting through your mother’s things.’
She stood looking at him, fiddling nervously with her handbag. ‘No.’
‘Why don’t you sit down for a bit before you make tea?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll make you a coffee.’
She knew she might have been moved by this uncharacteristic thoughtfulness if today hadn’t happened.
She sat. ‘Thanks. Where’s Debbie?’
‘Gone out.’ He stood up. ‘I’ll get that coffee.’
While he was in the kitchen, she just sat, staring straight ahead.
‘Here you are.’ Ray returned with the coffee.
She took it automatically. ‘Thanks.’
He sat down, picking up the newspaper again, but paused before starting to read it. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘about these workshops.’
She looked at him. ‘Yes?’
‘I’ve been thinking.’ He paused to clear his throat. ‘I know I was angry with you, but I’ve been thinking about it, and I appreciate you were probably only going for my sake. I ought to be flattered, I suppose.’ He reached out with this free hand to pat her arm. ‘But, hang it all, Janet, if you really want to learn about sex, then you don’t need any pathetic workshop; you only have to look closer to home, all right?’
She turned her head to look at him; the man she had been married to for more than half her life. What an ignorant person he was. How pathetically arrogant.
‘Right,’ she said.
* * * * *
Kate had never felt anything quite like this before, a kind of gathering and clamouring in her body.
She had ripped all of Geoff’s clothes off by now, but he was taking his time with hers; she was naked from the waist up, and he had caressed her breasts and sucked her nipples for what seemed like ages, but she still had her trousers on. And the thing was, the way he was caressing her clitoris and vulva against the trouser seam – here was no possibility of not using the right words for her private parts after the sessions with Jade, especially in her most fevered thoughts – was driving her absolutely crazy. She was straining frenziedly against both his hand and her trouser seam, and she was afraid she was going to come like that. Afraid she was going to come like that… A particle of her mind registered the humour in that, but was swept rapidly aside on the torrent of her feelings.
‘That’s it, girl,’ Geoff said softly, ‘go with it.’
And so she did, pushing and shoving and jerking against his hand until she cried out.
When she was finally still and silent, Kate felt the low rumble of Geoff’s laughter against her and looked up at him. ‘But you didn’t… you know,’ she said worriedly, and he laughed again.
‘Who cares?’ he said. ‘I can “you know” some other time.’ And he pulled her closer.
Kate could feel herself getting all emotional. ‘Why hasn’t that ever happened to me before?’ she asked, and he kissed her.
‘Because you haven’t encountered The Geoff before,’ he said, and she smiled.
‘Is that right?’ she said. ‘And how do I know that wasn’t a one-off?’
‘Listen,’ he told her, mock stern, ‘have you ever known my bread not to rise?’
Twenty-nine
The morning after she had spewed her heart out to Mark, Estelle woke up and recalled the events of the previous evening with dismay. It was like having a massive hangover and remembering the ludicrous things she’d done while under the influence.
Except that this time she had managed to make a total arse of herself on two small glasses of wine.
She had told Mark about everything. Tim Lawrence, her parents’ disbelief, Rashid in the summerhouse, everything. How was she ever going to face him again? Work with him? But she had to; she’d had far too much time off as it was.
She could do it. She’d been wearing a mask for most of her life after all. She could do it again. She just had to be strong.
Estelle was dressed in her suit, make-up on, car keys in her hand, ready to set off, but she stopped to look at herself in the mirror, feeling exhausted by the idea of needing to be strong. It had been such a relief last night not to have to pretend. Mark had been so sweet and understanding, listening and holding her, sym-pathetic and non-judgemental, and after she had un-burdened herself she had felt more at peace than she had done in a very long while.
Now, looking in the mirror, Estelle’s fingers stroked across her shoulder where Mark’s fingers had tightened their grip when she spoke about her parents’ reaction when she’d told them about Tim Lawrence.
‘You poor thing,’ he’d said gently. ‘You were their daughter! They should have listened to you.’ He reached out to touch her face, and for a moment, she thought h
e was going to kiss her, but he didn’t. And why would he? A woman who had just been arrested for criminal damage? A woman who had just lost her best friend because she was having an affair with her husband?
Still looking at her reflection, Estelle deliberately hardened the lines of her face. Last night had been last night. OK, she had been vulnerable; OK, so she was human after all. But vulnerable was no way to run a business. Vulnerable was no way to keep the pain of the past from hurting her.
When she reached the car park of Estelle Morgan Enterprises, she almost bottled out of going inside. It wasn’t just the prospect of facing Mark, it was also the fact that she knew everyone would know about her arrest by now. Her mask had never had such a big job to do before, and she wasn’t sure it was up to it.
But what was the alternative? Never go into work again? Emigrate?
Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car. The stairs to the second floor had never seemed so steep and the buzz of conversation behind the door to her offices never so loud. As she reached out to push open the door, her hand was shaking slightly. She pretended not to notice.
‘Good morning, Charlotte.’
There was no buzz of voices; her PA was simply on the phone. Charlotte lifted her hand in response to Estelle’s greeting and carried on talking. Estelle walked towards her office. Along the corridor, somebody laughed. She hesitated for a moment and then carried doggedly onwards until she reached her sanctuary.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she closed the door and sat down behind her desk, dumping her briefcase onto the floor. She could do this. She could do this.
There was a knock. Charlotte popped her head round the door. ‘Can I get you a coffee, Estelle?’ she asked.
It was the same question her PA asked her every day. Estelle could detect no difference in the way she had asked it either. ‘Yes, please, Charlotte,’ she said. ‘That would be very nice.’
Charlotte blinked. ‘Right,’ she said in a bright voice. ‘Coming up.’ Only after she had gone did Estelle realise that it was she who had spoken differently, not Charlotte. When was she ever so polite and appreciative? Especially first thing in the morning?
The phone rang, the tone indicating an outside call. Estelle snatched it up gratefully, anticipating the life-saving hurly-burly of business. But it wasn’t a business call at all.
‘Ms Morgan, this is Adele Reason of the Eastern Daily Press. I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?’
Estelle hung up.
Charlotte came in with her coffee with a smile on her face, a smile that vanished as soon as she caught sight of Estelle’s grim expression. Estelle saw Charlotte hesitate as if she were wondering whether to ask Estelle if she were all right. But at the last minute she obviously didn’t feel confident enough to do it, because she just put the coffee down on the desk and went out, closing the door behind her.
A text came through from Kate on Estelle’s mobile. Workshop Friday in back room of Rose pub on Fye Street. In the back room of a pub? If the press got hold of that, they really would have a field day. It would be best not to go. But if she didn’t go, then she might miss a chance to see Janet. But Janet probably wouldn’t go anyway. Why would she? She had only been going to the workshops for Ray, and she would hardly be very keen to see Estelle.
‘Hi.’ Mark came in without knocking, as if he owned the place. As if he owned her.
Estelle flushed. ‘Good morning, Mark,’ she said formally, busying herself with the papers on her desk.
‘How are you today?’ The gentle tone of voice implied intimacy.
She didn’t look up. ‘Fine. Busy.’
There was a silence. She guessed he was absorbing her tone of voice. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘It’s like that, is it?’
‘Like what?’
‘We pretend last night never happened?’
She still couldn’t look at him. ‘Nothing did happen,’ she said.
‘If you say so,’ he said coolly.
The sulkiness of his voice gave her courage. She could deal with sulky a lot more easily than she could deal with kind or loving.
‘I’m sorry, Mark,’ she said coolly looking him in the face now. ‘I wasn’t myself last night. I can’t apologise enough for inflicting all that on you.’
He was about to interrupt; to reassure her that it was all right, but she held up her hand. ‘But as you can see, I’m fine today; absolutely fine. There’s no need for you to worry about me at all. Now, fill me in on the research you’ve been doing for our new lines.’
Mark looked at her searchingly. She managed not only to hold his gaze but also to keep a calm smile on her face.
‘Can we schedule a meeting to discuss it?’ he asked her. ‘I’ll prepare all the information for you to look at.’
‘Certainly,’ she said. ‘What about Monday morning?’
‘That’s fine,’ he said and walked towards the door. ‘See you later.’
As the door closed behind him, Estelle experienced a pang of emptiness in her stomach. But it wasn’t anything; just a lack of breakfast, that was all. She’d send Charlotte out for some croissants. That would soon sort it out.
* * * * *
Janet was also attempting to carry on as normal, listening to some tedious account of one of Ray’s work meetings, telling Debbie she ought to eat more for breakfast, taking the kitchen rubbish out to the dustbin. She wasn’t due in to work until the afternoon, and traditionally Thursday morning was her main time for housework. But when Debbie and Ray left for work, she didn’t venture upstairs with her cleaning products and the radio as she usually did. Instead she sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and wished she had a cigarette even though she had given up smoking some twenty years previously.
There was a knock on the back door. Before she could decide to ignore it, the door opened and Gwen let herself in.
‘Knew you wouldn’t let me in if I came to the front,’ she said in her usual matter-of-fact style, helping herself to a mug from Janet’s mug tree. ‘May I?’ she asked, lifting the cafetière enquiringly.
‘What do you want, Gwen?’ Janet asked.
Gwen poured herself a coffee and brought it over to the kitchen table. ‘I’ve come to help you,’ she said.
Janet took a slug of her own coffee. ‘Oh yes, and you’ve been so very helpful towards me lately, haven’t you?’ she said sarcastically.
‘I’ve honestly only acted in what I thought were your best interests, Janet,’ Gwen told her.
‘Well, in future I’d like to be the one who decides what my best interests are, thank you very much,’ Janet said.
Gwen nodded, unabashed. ‘Point taken. Peter’s always telling me not to stick my nose in where it’s not wanted.’
Janet was surprised. Peter, Gwen’s husband, was so hen- pecked the term must have been invented especially for him.
‘Anyway, I’ve found something out I think you ought to know about,’ Gwen said. ‘Don’t worry, it’s got nothing to do with that Jade or those workshops; it’s something else entirely.’
Janet’s heart sank. Ray. Gwen had found out about Ray and Estelle.
‘It’s Carol,’ Gwen said.
For a moment Janet was confused. Surely Gwen didn’t think Ray was having an affair with Carol? Even he wouldn’t go that far. Would he?
Gwen’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Carol De Ville? Your boss?’
‘What about Carol?
‘Well,’ Gwen said, leaning in closer, ‘you know my friend Mavis who works at Shaws?’
Shaws was a local estate agent. ‘Yes?’
‘She says Carol’s looking to sell the shop. Had the valuers in last week.’ Gwen sat back in triumph. ‘So,’ she said, ‘you might be out of a job soon. Just thought you’d like to know. Pre-warned is pre-armed, as they say.’
Gwen finished her coffee then turned to go. At the door, she looked back. ‘Oh, just more one word about those workshops, Janet,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if you realise it, but that workshop leader of y
ours is living in a dilapidated caravan up at the caravan site. And no, before you say anything, I wasn’t nosing around. I just happened to be up that way walking the dog when I saw her. I just thought you should know, because you have to wonder why she’s living in such circumstances if she’s the bona fide person she makes out she is, don’t you?’
When Gwen was gone, Janet didn’t wonder any such thing; she was far too busy dwelling on her bombshell about the shop. It seemed to Janet that her entire life would soon consist entirely of nothings – no job, no orgasms, no marriage worthy of the name, no confidence, no self-respect… Unless…Unless she could be brave enough to do something so drastic, so life-changing that things as Janet Thornton knew them would never be the same again.
What have you got to lose? She asked herself as she cleaned the upstairs toilet with a vigour it had never before experienced. What have you got to lose?
The answer was another nothing, but this time the nothing was a positive – if frightening – nothing. Nothing.
As soon as Janet had begun to think that the impossible might in fact be possible, ideas and plans blossomed with quick fertility inside her head. And later that day, when she parked her car in the High Street car park and walked to the shop, she was already halfway to being a new person. She just hoped Gwen’s information was right, because if it weren’t, then that would be the end of all her plans and hopes. But Gwen was always right about what was going on in Shelthorpe On Sea; she was head of a kind of gossip mafia in the town, with her positions on various committees and her connections with the WI. And, squaring her shoulders, Janet pushed the shop door open, preparing to take on Carol De Ville.
* * * * *
Since Kate’s arrest, she and Geoff had barely ventured out of Kate’s bedsit apart from to go to work. And work had largely consisted of clearing up after the failed trifle attempt (Geoff), receiving another dressing down and a final warning from the Principal (Kate), caretaking their students and taking full advantage of any times that the catering staff room was empty (Geoff and Kate).
The Goddess Workshop Page 25