‘Thank you,’ she heard the woman say in a strangled voice. ‘Sorry about all the tears.’
‘Truly not a problem, and please take care,’ an unseen man replied.
Dee stepped aside to let the distressed woman exit – presumably a client who’d received bad news – and then Dee had her first proper look at Harrison Hunter-Brown. Her body chose that precise moment to double up, as if she’d been slugged in the solar plexus by a bag of cement.
‘Ooooh,’ she gasped.
‘Hey, are you all right?’ said Harrison, leaping forward. ‘Lean on me,’ he instructed. ‘You won’t be the first person over this threshold whose knees have given way.’ He gave a disarming smile as he reached out to guide Dee inside. To her embarrassment, his touch made her jerk violently, as if she’d been plugged into the National Grid and was lighting up the whole of Seal and possibly beyond.
‘You must be Dee?’
She squeaked unintelligibly and resorted to nodding by way of response. She had a feeling her pupils were dilating faster than a junkie on amphetamines. The man was so good looking it was positively obscene. Obscene because her brain was doing that weird thing again and playing out scenarios – this time X-rated. In a parallel universe Harrison Hunter-Brown had already whisked her over to that sumptuous looking client sofa, and was undressing her at the speed of light. His hypnotically deep and sexy voice was saying, ‘Dee, good heavens, I am sooo sorry, but I can’t help myself. Do you believe in love at first sight? I do, and right now I want you. In fact, I’ve never wanted anything so much in all my life. How do you like it?’
‘You decide,’ she said wantonly.
‘Most people like it with sugar,’ said Harrison.
Sex with sugar? Dee’s mind catapulted back to the present. ‘Pardon?’
‘How do you like your tea? My clients are usually in a state of shock when they visit, and sugar is helpful.’ Harrison smiled encouragingly, the effect of which nearly had Dee passing out. ‘You do look a bit shaken up.’
‘Y-yes,’ she nodded. ‘I am. A bit. Shaken.’
‘Come into the lounge. As you’ve probably gathered, my “office” is also my home. I like to be informal with clients and try and get them to relax.’ He indicated another squashy sofa, and Dee collapsed on it. ‘So, Dee. Sit back. Take some deep breaths and I’ll be back with the tea in a jiffy.’ He gave her a thousand-watt grin complete with twinkling eyes and dimpling cheeks, before heading off to the kitchen. She slumped back, emotionally wrecked. In two minutes Harrison Hunter-Brown had unleashed a deep yearning in Dee that Josh Coventry hadn’t achieved in two years. As Dee watched the private investigator’s exquisitely formed bottom disappear out of sight, her only coherent thought was being glad to have made an effort with her appearance today.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chrissie’s Sunday
‘I must say, darling,’ said Pam, ladling gravy over her daughter’s plate, ‘you look absolutely awful. I know you said Andrew had several call-outs last night and sleep was interrupted, but even so. Your face looks like a French bulldog. You know, wrinkled and screwed up. It’s good Andrew is finally being diligent and earning some extra money – I won’t lie to you, I’ve had my doubts about him before now. Even so, a bit of extra cash isn’t worth wrecking your looks. Andrew can’t be faring any better.’
‘Yes,’ said Chrissie quietly, ‘you’re probably right.’ She had no idea how Andrew looked this morning. If it was anything like last night’s expression, then words like “slapped” and “arse” would be appropriate.
‘It’s important to work, but not worth over doing it,’ said Pam.
Chrissie pondered whether Andrew’s todger was overworked. With a bit of luck it might drop off.
‘You were very quiet on the drive over, love,’ said John, kindly.
‘That’s because I’m tired, Dad.’ Chrissie forked up some roast beef. It was a lovely meal. She wished she felt more enthusiastic about eating it.
‘After lunch, would you like to borrow some of my make-up?’ Pam offered. ‘A bit of rouge on those pale cheeks wouldn’t go amiss. If you look better, you might feel better.’
Chrissie knew her mother meant well, but her comments weren’t helping. ‘Maybe.’
‘Is your food all right, love?’ asked John.
‘Yes thanks, Dad. Very nice.’ Chrissie promptly missed her mouth with the fork and spilt gravy all down her top. ‘Bugger,’ she muttered.
‘I’ll get a damp cloth,’ said Pam, jumping up. She disappeared briefly, returning with a dripping tea towel that she sloshed over Chrissie’s chest. The fabric instantly turned into a grey puddle with a tan stain. ‘Oh dear. I’ve made it worse. Never mind, thankfully it isn’t new.’ She abandoned the tea towel and sat back down in her chair. ‘Buy yourself another one,’ Pam chirped. ‘There’s nothing like a bit of shopping to cheer yourself up. Your clothes look like they could do with an update. Why don’t you spoil yourself, love? And when did you last go to the hairdresser? You always pull back your hair in scrunchies. It’s not flattering, darling.’ Pam put her knife and fork down and placed one soft, well-manicured hand over Chrissie’s. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, darling. After all, I know you’re very tired right now, but lately you’ve been looking much older than your years. And look at those nails!’ Pam exclaimed. She lifted Chrissie’s hand up for John to inspect. ‘Your skin is all cracked and sore, like a cleaning lady who works without rubber gloves. Are you doing an extra job that you’ve not told us about?’
Chrissie snatched her hand back. How could she explain that, yes, she was a cleaning lady – a cleaning lady for some thoroughly undesirable men who congregated in her home on a regular basis, and blocked her loo. And that she felt driven to scrub the place afterwards in order to reclaim it as her home. She knew her mother wasn’t being malicious mentioning her outdated wardrobe, or suggesting a hundred-quid’s worth of highlights, or splurging on half the make-up counter in Boots, but it hadn’t been possible. Andrew’s debts, gambling and general spending had kept her penny poor. Mind you, she didn’t owe the prat anything now, not after the business with randy chuffing Mandy. The ancient cow, with her beautiful gold stiletto sandals and her Designer white jeans. Was that why Andrew had strayed? Because, unlike Chrissie, Mandy layered her face in cosmetics, dyed her hair and had clothes as stylish as Victoria Beckham?
‘Are you all right, darling?’ Pam’s voice cut across Chrissie’s reverie. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. Lord, me and my big mouth. Now look what I’ve done. I’m so sorry. John, top up Chrissie’s wine.’
‘I-It’s fine, Mum.’ Chrissie put a hand over her glass to halt her father, who was already on his feet with the bottle poised. She caught sight of her chapped hand hovering over the crystal rim, and snatched it away. Unfortunately, her wrist caught the thin stem and sent it toppling over, flooding the table with liquid. ‘O-Oh God. I’m so sorry.’
‘Leave it, love,’ said John. ‘Pam, pass me that wet tea towel. Thanks. Now eat your dinner, Chrissie. Afterwards, perhaps you should go up to your old bedroom and take a nap – if you’re in no hurry to get back to Andrew, of course.’
‘N-No. I-I mean no hurry to get back. And y-yes, I’d like a nap. I-In my old bedroom.’ Chrissie was desperately trying to hang on to her emotions, but everything was threatening to rush to the surface and overwhelm her. The thought of slipping off to her childhood room where everything was familiar and safe was oh so tempting. She wanted to sleep. Forever. Just so long as the images of Andrew and Mandy didn’t come back to haunt her. A lone tear made a break for freedom and ran down one cheek.
‘Don’t, darling,’ said Pam, sounding distressed, ‘I didn’t mean to make you cry.’
‘Honestly, Pam,’ huffed John, ‘you and your big mouth. You’ve taken our girl apart. She’s lovely as she is. She doesn’t need make-up and fancy clothes, or a trip to the hairdresser.’
‘But I didn’t mean–’
‘Please don’t argue,�
� said Chrissie in a strangled voice. Another tear fell, swiftly followed by another, and then another. They splashed down her gravy-ruined top. A part of her wondered whether the salty tears might remove the stain.
‘But I’ve upset you,’ said Pam, and promptly burst into tears.
‘Well this is turning into a fine Sunday lunch,’ John sighed. ‘I’m surrounded by weeping women.’
Chrissie began to bawl even harder. ‘It’s…huh huh…nobody’s fault but my own…huh huh…Mum’s right…huh huh…if I’d taken more care of myself…huh huh…Andrew would be here with me for Sunday lunch. Instead…huh huh…he’s…he’s…he’s…huh huh–’
‘He’s what, love?’ John prompted.
Chrissie sucked in a lungful of air, then spat out the hateful words like an overworked vacuum cleaner divesting its contents. ‘Right now, Andrew is with a peroxide-blonde perma-tanned woman who I suspect is older than Mum.’
Pam dabbed her eyes and looked confused. ‘Is this his electrical client?’
‘No, although she certainly delivered a few shocks.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Pam.
‘I think I do,’ growled John, ‘he’s seeing another woman, yes?’
Chrissie nodded her head miserably. She picked up the paper serviette to the side of her dinner plate, unfolded it, mopped her tears and blew her nose. ‘My boyfriend is having an affair.’
Pam’s jaw dropped. ‘And…and she’s older than me?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Are you sure, love?’
Chrissie gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Never surer. I saw them with my own eyes. Andrew brought her back to ours, thinking I was out.’
‘Oh, darling,’ Pam gasped. ‘Why didn’t you tell us straight away?’
Chrissie shrugged. ‘Shame. Embarrassment. Wanting, for some misguided reason, to protect him – despite everything.’ She patted away fresh tears. ‘He’s changed so much.’
‘Chrissie, love, I don’t like telling you what to do,’ said John. ‘After all, you’re a grown woman. But please tell me you’re not going back to that maisonette to be emotionally trampled on by Andrew.’
‘I have nowhere else to go.’
‘Of course you do,’ said John gently. ‘This is still your home. Move back.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘As if you even need to ask,’ said Pam, reaching for one of Chrissie’s rough hands. She squeezed it tightly.
‘Now dry those tears,’ said John gruffly, ‘and finish your dinner. Afterwards, I’ll run you back to the maisonette and you can pick up your belongings.’
‘Thanks, Dad,’ said Chrissie gratefully. Right now, she felt like a seven-year-old. Her inner child was responding to her parents’ concern. It was such a relief to let them guide her and tell her what to do. For now, anyway. She felt so weary, so worn out and emotionally drained. But she also felt lighter, as if a concrete cape had been shrugged off her shoulders. Suddenly her mother’s Sunday lunch was full of appeal, and she polished it off with gusto.
When Chrissie returned to the estate, it was with two large suitcases that belonged to her parents. Her father remained outside in the Jag, glaring at a bunch of hoodies who were hoping he’d leave his car long enough for them to remove the alloys. Chrissie scampered through the front door and into the bedroom, and began tipping clothes into the cases. She didn’t bother to fold them neatly. She’d press them later when she was back at her parents’ house. Andrew was out, and she desperately hoped he didn’t turn up to see her emptying drawers and wardrobes. If he did, she had no idea whether he’d attempt apologising and beg her to stay, or whether he’d happily wave her off. But one thing was certain – she had no intention of sticking around long enough to find out.
Chapter Thirty
By late Sunday afternoon, Amber’s euphoria from exacting revenge on Matthew had subsided. The initial rush of elation, fuelled by anger and adrenalin, had disappeared faster than Mr Tomkin slurping up a saucer of cream. She was left feeling as flat as a tyre that had been pierced with hundreds of nails. Reaching for her mobile, she tapped out a message on the Secs in the City group chat.
***
Dee drove home from Harrison Hunter-Brown’s premises in a complete daze. Her meeting with Harrison (‘Please, call me Harry’) had passed in a blur. She hadn’t so much as walked back to her car as floated. In slow motion. What the heck was the matter with her? Perhaps she was in some sort of weird aftermath of emotion. That must be it. She was glad of the distraction when her mobile dinged a message on the Secs in the City group chat.
***
Chrissie woke up in her old bedroom after a couple of hours’ much needed snoozing. At first, she wasn’t sure what had disturbed her. She was just drifting off again when the mobile dinged a message reminder. Making a long-arm, she picked it up and read a message from Amber.
Ladies, are you available this evening. I’m feeling crappier than the earring I chucked at Matthew (it landed in fox’s mess).
Chrissie could see that Dee was typing. Seconds later the mobile chimed with Dee’s message.
I’m feeling really weird. Possibly experiencing the bit before a full-blown breakdown. Don’t know what to do.
Chrissie sat up properly, and typed her own message.
The only nice thing about today was my mum’s dinner. I’ve left Andrew. Back in my old bedroom at mum and dad’s. Feel like a failure.
Amber began typing. Let’s meet up. Now. What about going for a drink?
Dee instantly replied. I passed a lovely pub when I was driving through Seal.
Chrissie’s fingers flew across the screen. What were you doing in Seal?
Dee’s answer was almost instant. Tell you when I see you. Want me to pick you up?
Chrissie typed back. Yes please.
Amber came next. As long as you both promise not to share updates with each other until we’re all together. I don’t want to miss anything! Which pub, Dee?
Dee’s reply was swift. It’s called “The Beagle and Bugle” and on the High Street. See you at seven.
Chrissie glanced at her watch. It was a little after six. She hadn’t a moment to lose. Swinging her legs off the bed, she padded downstairs to the lounge. Her father had nodded off in front of the television, and her mother was reading the Sunday supplements which were spread across the coffee table. Tortoiseshell specs were perched on her nose. Pam glanced up at Chrissie.
‘Hello, darling. Feeling better?’
Chrissie gave a wan smile. ‘A bit. I feel…,’ she shrugged, ‘empty. Like a car that’s run out of petrol.’
Pam nodded. ‘Hardly surprising. Can I make you a cup of tea?’
‘No, don’t get up,’ Chrissie said quickly. ‘You’ve been busy all afternoon, and I feel guilty that I didn’t help you earlier with the washing up. Er, Mum. Would you mind terribly if…’ Chrissie trailed off. The downside of being back under her parents’ roof was feeling like seventeen again, and having to ask permission to go out. She’d have to give assurances not to be late so they didn’t worry, or feel they couldn’t relax and sleep until she was home again.
‘What is it, darling?’
‘Um, well, Dee and Amber. You know. My two closest friends who I work with–’
‘Yes, I know who Dee and Amber are. What’s up?’
‘They’ve asked if I’d like to go for a drink with them this evening. Is it okay with you if I pop out for two or three hours?’
‘Of course. Do you need a lift?’
‘Dee has offered to pick me up.’
‘That’s nice of her. And while we’re on the subject of being out and about, you can borrow my car to get to work.’
‘Oh,’ said Chrissie, taken aback. She’d had visions of chopping and changing buses in order to travel from Swanley to Gravesend. ‘How will you manage without the car?’
‘Perfectly well. I’m within walking distance of the supermarket, and the exercise will do me good. I’ll borrow your grandma’s shopping bask
et on wheels. Good heavens,’ Pam pulled a horrified face, ‘I wasn’t expecting that to happen yet! Next I’ll be wearing one of those foldaway plastic hoods to keep my hair dry.’ She laughed good-naturedly. ‘If there is a day where I need the car, I’ll simply give you a lift into Gravesend and pick you up later. It’s not exactly a million miles away. We’ll muddle along. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ said Dee gratefully. She stooped and kissed her mother’s cheek. ‘I’ll go and freshen up, and maybe pinch a bit of your make-up,’ she said, winking at her mother.
Pam looked rueful. ‘Honestly, darling, you don’t need cosmetics. Truly. I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. You’re beautiful as you are.’
‘I’m going to give myself an overhaul,’ said Chrissie, ‘starting from now. And on pay day I’ll be binning the scrunchies and having a restyle.’
‘Good for you,’ said Pam. ‘It’s about time my daughter spent her hard-earned money on herself.’
When Dee pulled up outside the Peterson’s house, she did a double-take at Chrissie.
‘Wow!’ she wolf-whistled. ‘I almost didn’t recognise you. I can’t remember when I last saw you wearing lippy and mascara.’
‘Stop it,’ Chrissie gave a gurgle of delighted laughter. She was surprised to hear the sound of merriment, no matter how brief, escaping from her lips. It had been so long since she’d had anything to giggle about.
***
When Dee and Chrissie arrived at The Beagle and Bugle, Amber was already there. The evening temperature had taken a sharp drop. Inside the pub a wood burning stove was gobbling up logs and emitting the occasional crackle and pop. Amber had appropriated some easy chairs around a low table by the fire.
‘Ooooh,’ said Dee, flopping down into a squashy chair, ‘this is wonderful.’ She leant forward, letting the wood burner warm her cold hands. ‘All we need now is some marshmallows to stick in that fire.’ She kicked off her shoes and began wiggling her toes.
The Woman Who Knew Everything Page 18