In My Sister's Shoes (19 page)

‘Would that be close to “cold-hearted”?’

‘Having a conversation with you is impossible.’

‘If Fiona dies, will you be glad you spent all this precious time on some pathetic ego-trip?’

‘Fiona’s going to be fine,’ snapped Mark. ‘Don’t you dare use my wife’s illness as leverage against me.’

‘That’s rich coming from the man who called me in London and blackmailed me into coming back. I’ve given up everything to help and your life hasn’t skipped a beat. In fact, you’ve more free time now I’m here to chauffeur your family around and cook dinner and clean up.’

‘I’ll be in my office if you need me,’ he said, and left the room.

‘Need you for what exactly?’ I shouted, to the back of his hairy head.

When I got home my blood was still boiling. Derek was in the kitchen with Roxanne, both shovelling bacon sandwiches down their throats as some rap artist screamed insults from the stereo. I switched off the noise, grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge, filled a glass to the brim and began to glug.

‘Mark?’ Derek asked, between bites.

I nodded.

‘What this time?’

‘Can’t take her to chemo.’

‘Again?’

‘Yep.’

‘Coz he’s got prize shit going on?’

‘What do you think?’

‘That dude is always busy when she needs him,’ said Derek, getting as riled as he was capable of.

‘He’s fucking someone else,’ said Roxanne, as casually as if she’d commented on the weather.

‘Excuse me?’ I said, as some wine spilt down my chin.

Roxanne shrugged. ‘’Sobvious. He’s having an affair. Probably a student. All this bullshit about his work is a smokescreen.’

‘What the hell would you know?’ She was beginning to get on my nerves. First, she’d upset Fiona by telling her about her cousin who was dying of cancer, and now she was accusing Mark of having an affair. He couldn’t be, could he? He was too much of a nerd. Nerds didn’t have affairs.

‘Yo, sis, relax,’ said Derek, defending his fuck-buddy. ‘Maybe Roxie’s right. It’d explain why he’s never around and why he’s always working late and shit.’

‘Come on, Derek, this is Mark we’re talking about. The only thing he’s interested in is maths.’

‘And himself,’ added Derek. ‘And dudes who are into themselves have affairs.’

‘But he’s only interested in himself from a career point of view,’ I said. ‘I’ve never even heard Mark say a girl is good-looking. He doesn’t notice women.’

‘All dudes notice fine women,’ said Derek, with authority.

‘Not Mark,’ I said.

‘There’s one way to find out,’ said our resident tattooist. Derek and I stared at her. ‘I’ll make a pass at him and we’ll see what happens.’

I laughed, ‘If Mark was going to cheat on Fiona, believe me, it wouldn’t be with you.’

Roxanne stared at me. ‘Give me two hours and you’ll eat your words,’ she said, grabbed her car keys and headed out the door.

Two hours later the doorbell rang. I answered it and there stood the girl formerly known as Roxanne. Her dreadlocks were pinned back into a neat ponytail and she was wearing a grey wool dress that showed off her fantastic figure while hiding all her tattoos. Her makeup was subtle and she had sexy-secretary glasses on. She looked amazing.

‘Wow,’ I said.

‘Told ya.’ She grinned.

‘I’m impressed,’ I admitted.

‘You look like a total android,’ said Derek, from behind me.

‘Duh, this is what maths freaks look like,’ said the new student.

‘Now what?’ I asked, unsure what we were planning to do.

‘I go to college and tryto get the leg over,’ said Roxanne.

We sat down to come up with a more detailed plan. I knew Mark was staying late because he had a tutorial or some such, and I wasn’t sure if Roxanne would be able to barge in. These things tended to be closed to tattooist seducers.

‘No worries, leave it to Roxie. She could talk her way into the White House,’ said Derek, proudly.

Were we all mad? Plotting to seduce Fiona’s husband? Maybe Roxanne was the wrong person for the job. After all, she was a bit of a live wire – God knows what she’d do if he did make a pass at her.

‘OK, look, guys, whatever happens, Mark mustn’t suspect a set-up. If he ever finds out we organized this, we’re dead and Fiona will never forgive us. So, no matter what happens, you cannot tell him who you are. If he does make a pass at you, just –’

‘Tell him he’s a dirty old man and knee him in the balls,’ said Derek.

‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘There is to be no drama. Just walk away. This is a very delicate matter. He’s our sister’s husband and let’s not forget that,’ I said, looking Roxanne in the eye.

‘No violence or shouting. OK?’

She nodded. ‘Don’t sweat it, Kate. I’ll sort him.’

I was a bit nervous about what ‘sorting him’ might mean. I hoped she wasn’t going to maim him. I didn’t want to hurt him, just to find out if he was a love-rat, and then we could think of ways to harm him.

A car tooted outside. I looked at Derek.

‘Gonzo,’ he said. ‘Volunteered to be our getaway driver.’

‘Jesus, Derek, it’s not a bloody bank robbery and it’s supposed to be low-key. I’ll drive.’

‘Too late now,’ said Derek, as Gonzo walked into the kitchen in a balaclava and army combats.

‘Your chariot awaits,’ he announced.

We piled into the back of his Fiesta and I got Roxanne to help me with my wig. Mark had never seen me with it on, and although I planned to stay well out of sight, at least this way he might not recognize me if he caught a glimpse of me.

When we got to the university, Gonzo insisted on driving around in circles until he found the perfect parking spot – behind the rubbish bins at the back of the dining-hall. ‘I’ll keep the engine running so we can make a speedy escape,’ he said, in a dodgy American accent.

‘Do me a favour and take off that ridiculous face mask. You’re only going to draw attention to yourself,’ I said, as we clambered out of the car.

‘For you, Princess, anything,’ he said, and peeled it off to reveal a face blackened with charcoal.

‘What exactly did you think we were doing here tonight?’ I asked.

‘My man Derek said it was a covert mission of a delicate nature, so I came prepared.’ Gonzo waved a Swiss Army knife in the air. Was he planning to attack Mark with a miniature nail file?

Sighing, I said, ‘Do me a favour, stay in the car and don’t talk to anyone. OK?’

Derek, Roxanne and I headed for the maths department, and when we got close, I asked a studious-looking guy where Professor Kennedy’s office was. He gave us directions, taking time to check out Roxanne via his thick glasses. She gave him a dazzling smile, and he tripped as he went to walk away. This girl was a pro. I could pick up some tips.

When we got near to Mark’s office, Derek and I hid behind a pillar and I gave Roxanne some last-minute instructions while she rearranged her cleavage so that it would give Pamela Anderson a run for her money.

‘Remember, no violence and no admitting who you are. Just keep calm and be flirty without throwing yourself at him.’

‘Kate,’ she said, placing a hand on my arm, ‘I don’t need instructions from you. I
know
what I’m doing.’

There was no time to be insulted, although I was. I pushed her out from behind the pillar and off she strutted, high heels clicking on the concrete.

Mark’s office window was directly in front of the pillar, so with a little manoeuvring, we could see inside. Derek had got Roxanne to call his mobile and leave her phone on, tucked inside her bag, so we could hear everything – that pair had clearly missed their vocation as private detectives.

Mark was perched on his desk, surrounded by six students. Four guys and two girls. One of the girls was very stern-looking but the other was attractive and wearing an extremely short skirt. They looked up as Roxanne walked in.

‘Can I help you?’ Mark asked.

‘Are you Professor Kennedy?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘Yes.’ He smiled.

‘I’m Denise Brown, a friend of the dean’s. He said it’d be OK if I sat in on your class. I’m thinking of taking maths next year,’ said the vixen.

‘Oh, I see,’ said Mark, surprised. ‘Well, this is actually a tutorial in which we’ll be discussing the relationship between mass and velocity, but if you don’t think it’ll put you off maths for life, you’re welcome to stay. However, you might be better to come to one of the more general lectures.’

‘Oh, no, I’d just love to hear about the velocity,’ gushed Roxanne, as two of the boys shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

‘Trying to hide their hard-ons,’ whispered Derek, knowledgeably.

I looked at Mark: he wasn’t shifting at all. She wasn’t affecting him the way she was the younger students.

‘OK. Grab a seat here and we’ll get going,’ said the professor.

Roxanne sat down opposite him, hiking up her dress to reveal a little more leg.

‘Does mass change with velocity?’ asked Mark. ‘There is sometimes confusion surrounding the subject of
mass
in relativity. This is because there are two separate uses of the term. Sometimes people say “mass” when they mean “relativistic mass”,
m
_r
, but at other times they say “mass” when they mean “invariant mass”,
m
_o
. These two meanings are not the same. The invariant mass of a particle is independent of its velocity,
v
, whereas relativistic mass increases with velocity and tends to infinity as the velocity approaches the speed of light,
c
. They can be defined as follows:

m
_r
= E/c
²

m
_o
= sqrt(E
²
/c
⁴
– p
²
/c
²
),

where
E
is energy,
p
is momentum and
c
is the speed of light in a vacuum. The velocity-dependent relation between the two is,

m
_r
= m
₀
/sqrt(1 – v
²
/c
²
)…’

We watched as Roxanne stifled a yawn while the other students scribbled furiously, hanging on Mark’s every word. Bored stupid, our actress dropped her pen, and bent slowly to pick it up, giving Mark a full view of her considerable cleavage. But he didn’t skip a beat. On and on he droned about velocity and mass… until finally it was over.

‘I hope that wasn’t too much to take in,’ Mark said to Roxanne, as she seductively smoothed down her dress. The guys stared at her while the girls rolled their eyes.

‘Oh, no, professor, I loved every second of it. I’d heard you were a genius in the field of mathematics. Now I know you are,’ she whispered, moving closer to him.

Mark smiled. ‘Thank you. What exactly is your relationship with the dean?’

‘I’m his little cousin,’ said Roxanne, fluttering her eyelids. She was giving it everything but Mark wasn’t biting.

‘I see. Well, it was nice to meet you. OK, class, I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early at the nine o’clock on prime numbers,’ he said, turning his back on Roxanne to go and sit at his desk.

As the others trailed out the door, Roxanne gave it one last shot. ‘Don’t you feel thirsty after all that talking?’ she purred. ‘Can I buy you a drink for allowing me to sit in on it?’

He looked up and smiled at her. ‘No, thanks, I’ve a lot of work to do. But I’m sure some of the younger boys would be very keen to take you up on the offer.’

‘Are you kidding me? Those nerds? Not on your life,’ said Roxanne, as the tattooed lady raised her snake head.

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll find they’re very nice young men.’

‘I’ve always preferred men to boys,’ she said, leaning forward and placing her hand over his.

He pulled away. ‘It’s time you went home.’

‘This is the best offer you’ll ever get, old man,’ she snapped.

‘I’m not interested, thank you. Now, I really must get back to work,’ said Mark, and steered her out the door.

‘Are you blind, gay or impotent?’ she shouted, as the door shut in her face.

‘Grab her before she causes a scene!’ I hissed, and Derek sprinted out, his hoodie hiding his face. He pulled Roxanne behind the pillar.

‘The guyis a fucking faggot,’ said Roxanne. ‘There’s your answer.’

As we were turning to go, the student in the short skirt came back down the empty path and knocked on Mark’s door. He answered it and smiled when he saw her. ‘I forgot to give you this,’ she said. ‘It’s the research I did for your competition paper. I hope it helps.’

‘Thank you, Jessica. I’ve no doubt it will.’

‘I was going to grab a coffee now, if you’d like to join me,’ she said, flicking her hair.

‘I’m afraid I have a meeting to go to.’

‘Oh, well, next time.’ She giggled.

‘Certainly,’ said Mark.

He closed his door and the leggy maths student strutted off. I nudged Derek. ‘Go after her and pump her for information.’

He caught up with her and introduced himself as a fan of Mark’s. ‘Hey, I saw you talking to Professor Kennedy.

He’s, like, my total hero. I’m hoping to get into his class next year,’ said Derek.

‘Are you a freshman?’ Jessica asked, looking surprised.

‘Mature student,’ said Derek. ‘I travelled for a couple of years after school, hung out with some maths guys in, uh, China and stuff, so now I’m totally into it.’

‘Did you meet Professor Hung?’ asked Jessica, looking excited.

‘Yeah, totally. He’s a really cool guy,’ lied Derek.

‘Wow, you lucky sod,’ said the cute blonde.