Lipstick and Lies (27 page)

I nodded my head slowly.
‘Okay.
But I
am
going to tell my bunch.
I want them sticking to you like glue Dylan.
Don’t allow yourself to be alone with this bully.
All right?
And
no more walking home either.’

‘I don’t want Mum picking me up,’ Dylan
looked horrified
.
‘Richard Clegg
might
shout out foul names to her.’

‘All right.
In which case
I’ll
drop you hom
e.’

‘But that will t
ake you out of your way Cass.’

‘Only by a few minutes.
It’s not a problem.’

‘Can this be our secret?’

I hesitated.
If the boot were on the other foot, would I want Nell not telling me?
The answer was categorically no.
However, Nell was currently hormonal, knackered and adjusting to life with a newborn.
‘It can be our secret only if you promise to let me regularly know what is happening and to allow Liv, Toby,
Petra
and Jonas to help.
If things get worse though, then obviously I’ll have to speak up.
Okay?’

Dylan nodded.
‘Okay,’ he mumbled.
‘I feel a bit better having
shared the problem with you.’

‘Good,’ I leant across the table and ruffled his hair.
‘A problem shared is a problem halved.
Meanwhile, how about you go and say sorry to your Mum and Dad while I f
inish my coffee and biscuits.’

Dylan gave me a watery smile.
‘Thanks Cass.’

He disappeared out of the kitchen leaving me to munch thoughtfully on a Hob Nob.
Why were children sometimes so cruel to each other?
And what was going on in Richard Clegg’s life that made him feel the need to be such a toe
-
rag to Dylan?

Ben wandered in, hands stuffed in pockets.
‘Footie’s finished.
Liverpool
Won.
Scouse gits.’

‘Charming.’

Ben shrugged.
‘Where’s Lord Voldemort gone?’

‘Upstairs to see Nell.
He’ll be back d
own in a tick to see you too.’

‘Not sure I’m up for any more hysterics,’ Ben pulled out
a stool and sat down heavily.

‘Go with it Ben.
Dylan has a lo
t on his plate at the moment.’

‘And I don’t?
Christ.
I nearly miss my daughter being born.
End up in Casualty with concussion.
Have a hysterical wife telling me she can’t cope.
A demented son behaving like the villain in a Harry Potter film.
A newborn that I can’t
touch
because Nell tells me I’m a rubbish dad.
In the last twenty-four hours I’ve come this close,’ Ben held a thumb and forefinger millimetres apart, ‘to packing a suitcase and sodding off.
’

‘You’re not a rubbish dad,’ a voice piped up.
Nell stood framed in the doorway, Dylan by her side.
They had their arms around each other.
She released Dylan and walked over to Ben.
‘Sorry if I’ve been a
bitch
.
I love you.’
Ben
reached up and pulled Nell onto his lap.

‘I love you too,’ he
kissed
his wife.
‘And
how are you now
Dylan?
’ Ben looked across at his son.
Extended a hand.
Dylan walked over and took it.
Allowed himself to be pulled onto Ben’s other knee.

‘Sorry Dad.
For everything.
Of course I’m pleased about Rosie.
I just lost my cool.’

‘But you’re cool now?’

‘Yeah
.
’

‘G
ood,’ Ben hugged his son hard.

I stood up.
‘Right folks,
I’d best be off.
Is Rosie asleep?’

‘
Absolutely s
parko,’ Nell smiled wearily.
‘I’m going to get my head down too.
While the going is good.’

‘That sounds like a wonderful idea,’ Ben tipped Nell and Dylan off his knees.
‘Thank you Cass for coming over and rest
oring calm to this household.’

‘You’re welcome,’ I smiled
and walked out to the hallway.

‘I owe you,’ Nell said
as she opened the front door.

‘Indeed.
And I will call
in the favour Sunday morning.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because something is happening tomorrow night.
Something I’m not particularly looking forw
ard to,’ I paused on the step.

‘Oh?’

‘I’m out.
At the
Oxo Tower no less.’

Nell gasped.
‘You lucky cow!
Oh for a husband like Jamie.
To be w
ined and dined in such style.’

I smiled thinly.
‘Also with Ethan and his delectable fiancée.
Selina.’

‘Oh.
Ouch.’

‘Yes.
Ouch indeed.
So Sunday morning, coffee and Hob Nobs at yours
.
I’ll be needing to
bend
your ear and vent my spleen.’

Nell rubbed her hands together gleefully.
‘I shall look forward to it.
T
ell Morag to come along too.’

I stepped out into the cold night air.
‘It’s a date.’

Swishing back the curtains the following morning,
I gasped with delight.
Jack Frost had visited.
Lavender Common
sparkled like a glittery
Christmas card.
A couple of Saturday morning dog walkers
were puffing along one of the
steeper inclines,
their
warm
breath clouding the cold air.
A robin landed on the window ledge completing the post-Christmas festive look.
I sighed with happiness.
On mornings like this it was so damn good to be alive.
I raised my eyebrows in surprise at such an acknowledgment.
I’d felt so half-dead with tiredness these last few months
,
it struck me that my life had turned a corner.
A better corner.
A place where optimism reigned.
Where energy levels were restored.
Where achieving anything was possible.
All because my darling baby boy had once again slept through the night and – I cocked an ear towards the baby monitor – was still apparently sleeping!
It was amazing what a few hours of uninterrupted slumber did to the human body.
And libido.
My eyes flicked
to
Jamie
,
snoring
soundly
on his side of the double bed.
He still made me go weak at the knees.
Even
with his mouth hanging open
and
making sounds
like
a
farrowing
pig.
I
padded over
to
my side of the
bed.
Peeling off my nightclothes, I slid under the duvet.

‘
Oh lover boy,’ I cooed.
My fingers
walked
across the flat sheet to my husband’s body.
‘
Wake up Jamie.
Your slave is here,
’ I murmured, ‘your
sex
slave.
Come to service you.’
My fingers made contact with Jamie’s torso.
And began to travel down.

Suddenly my wrist was caught in a vice-like grip.
‘Ah ha!’ Jamie shot upright
and pinned
one hand over my head.
‘Sex slave eh?’
He found my other wrist and whizzed that one over my head too.
‘So
,
wench
.
Y
ou’ve come into my bed offering to do a
ll manner of debauched things.
’
H
e regarded me.
‘And what be your name
,
fair maiden?’

Jamie seemed to have launched into a pirate accent.
I had an overwhelming desire to laugh.
And then I thought of Morag.
No doubt she’d instantly throw herself into some role playing.
Absolutely relish it.
I mentally squared up to the task.
If Morag was happy to hop over horse jumps and visit imaginary stud farms, then I was pretty damn sure I could immerse myself in a s
pot of sea-faring shenanigans.

‘Oh kind sir
,
be gentle with me now.’

‘Ah harrrr
!
Y
ou should have thought of that before you disturbed the Cap’n from his slumber.
I ask
again.
Your name
?
’

‘Pen
e
lope sir.’

‘Pen–?’

‘Pen
e
lope Cruz.
And I’m
hot
for you Cap’n Depp.
Oh aye
,
ooh-arrrr
.
H
ot
for being
spanked
, hot
for walking
the plank, hot
for
–
’ I hesitated.
The only word that came to mind was
wank
.
W
hat else went on in a pirate’s world?
‘
–some
hanky-pank
.’

‘What–?’

Using all my strength I pushed my wrists upward and rolled my body to the right.
Jamie flipped over and suddenly I was astride him.
I gazed down at him.

‘I’m gonna show you
the real meaning of
Jolly Roger.’

The ensuing romp was feisty to say the least.
Well, on my part.
I don’t think
Jamie
knew what had hit him – a
Force
Ten
gale or a wrestle with a wannabe actress
re-enacting
Pirates of the
Caribbean
.
Five minutes later it was all over.
My husband
staggered off to the en-suite looking not so much rogered as wrecked.
I lay back on the rumpled bed covers feeling pretty damn smug.
Morag eat your heart out.

An hour later, we all piled into the Muck Truck.
Jamie drove us to Matt’s
equestrian centre.
The four older children peeled off to
the stables to
spend the day mucking out, riding their ponies and cleaning tack
.
Later they would return
smelling of manure and sporting nails the colour of a blackboard.
I shoved such thoughts away as Matt,
on his
return
to
the house
,
button
holed Jamie.

‘Mac!’ he greeted
my husband
by the nick-name he’d called him for years.
‘I’m absolutely frozen,’
Matt
rubbed his hands together and stamped his feet
.
‘C
ome on in and have a coffee with me.
Hello sweetheart,’ Matt pecked my cheek, ‘Morag will be overjoyed to see you.
She’s been itching to have a shopping session.
Why don’t you two girlies go to
Fairview
for a bit?’ he fished in his p
ocket for the front door key.

‘Good idea,’ said Jamie, ‘you could buy yours
elf a nice dress for tonight.’

‘Is he wining and dining you
,
Cass?’ asked Matt with a grin.

‘
As such, y
es,’ I smiled back, ‘although the boss and his fiancée will be there too
.
S
o it won’t be romantic.’

‘Ah!’ said Matt.
His tone indicated
he understood the
delicacy of the situation
– that
Selina would be there.
‘And where is the venue?’