Lipstick and Lies (37 page)

‘Are they okay?’

‘Yes,’ I sighed.
‘They are very okay.
And you?’

‘Ah.
Well, that’s one of the reasons why I was ringing actually.
About this weekend’s access.
Not that it really makes much difference to the twins, but if you could let them know that Charlotte and I are no long
er together.’

‘Really?’
I feigned surprise.
Stevie wasn’t to know that Morag had bumped into
Charlotte
at Tesco’s and already banged the jungle drums to me about
Charlotte
’s departure.
I was surprised it had taken Stevie so long to mention it.
Surely he’d been home somewhere between his ex-girlfriend’s departure and the horsey day out with his new amour?
Was it only now that he’d spotted a
Dear Stevie
note
in
Charlotte
’s handwriting
propped up o
n the mantelpiece?

‘Silly girl,’ Stevie tutted, ‘but it’s probably for the best.
All that baby business.
Not for me.’

‘Yes, I remember you saying.’
The children disappeared around the corner of a building and out of sight.
I started the engine up.
‘So, you don’t mind being single again?’
I indicated and pulled out.

‘Oh no.
Not at all.
It’s quite a relief actually.
From now on I want a relationship with no strings.
Preferably with a married woman.
Or one that’s about to be married.
That would do very nice
ly, ha ha!’

‘Does that
mean you’ve met one?’ I asked.

‘Met what?’

‘A woma
n that’s about to be married?’

‘Cass you
really are incredibly nosey.’

‘I
’ll take that as a yes then.’
In the background I heard Stevie’s doorbell ring
.
‘Are you still at home?’
I asked.

‘Yeah,’ Stevie sounded cagey, ‘bad back.
Must go.
My masseuse has arrived.’

‘God Stevie
,
you don’t change.
Have fun in your sick bed.’

My ex-husband chuckled and rang off.
Interesting.
He was pulling a sickie.
And according to Jamie, Selina was off sick today too.
Still, it was none of my business.
From now on, the two of them could get on with it.
They could bonk each other senseless.
I felt immensely sorry for Ethan, but was hardly in a position to enlighten him.
And Jamie thought I had an over-active imagination.
So that was that.
I drove to
Fairview
with my mind firmly on evening dresses and the impending ball banquet.
This time I was going to have my wits about me.
Oh yes.
My plate and wine glass would be a million miles away from Selina’s b
utterfly hands.

In due course I arrived at
Fairview
.
Pulling Eddie’s buggy from the boot, I strapped him in, made sure my hold-all was hanging over one of the handles and then set off.
Shopping with a baby
wa
sn’t ideal.
The moment you
found
something you
wanted
to try on, it
would be
the Law of Sod
that
baby
would
cry and demand
your
attention.
I’d done the
ignore it and carry on
thing but unfortunately Eddie had copied me.
As in the
carry on
bit.
And the game of wits had been won by my son, especially as by that point I’d had other shoppers casting the sort of dark looks that clearly conveyed I was a negligent mother.
So when I cruised into John Lewis, glided up an escalator and
discovered
a pale pink evening dress
begging to be tried on
, I was totally prepared for Eddie’s bl
ood-curdling screams to start.

‘There, there darling,’ I grinned at my howling son, ‘Mummy has something nice for you to chomp on while she goes into the changing room.’
I rummaged in my hold-all and withdrew a Rusk.
‘Mmmmm,’ I rolled my eyes in an
I’ve-just-died-and-gone-to-heaven
way. ‘L
ook what Mummy has for Eddie!’

With peace briefly
restored
,
I hastened into the changing room.
In
mounting excitement I stripped off my regulation grey joggers and long tee and let the gown slither over my head.
The colour was perfect with my complexion.
The dress clung to my curves beautifully.
Although – I glanced down at the hem puddling over the floor – it would need some incredibly high heels.
No problem.
I slipped the gown off.
Shoe shop next.

By
mid-aftern
oon I was pretty much done.
I free-wheeled the buggy out to the car park with not just a carefully packed evening dress in
the
shopping tray, but also a boxed pair of pink satin killer heels and matching evening bag.
I just hoped Jamie didn’t have a fit when he received the credit card bill.
I set about strapping Eddie into his car seat and dismantling the buggy.
Placing the shopping bags carefully on top of the
pram
, I slammed the boot down
,
jumped into the driver’s seat
and started the car up
.
Eddie was due his afternoon nap.
Although, I glanced in the rear view mirror at my son, it was apparent he was on the verge of crashing out any...second...now.
His eyelids fluttered down, dar
k lashes sweeping rosy cheeks.

I popped the gear into reverse and was just edging out, when I nearly stalled
t
he engine in shock.
For there, walking right behind my car
,
was Stevie.
He didn’t see me.
Nor did his companion.
I paused, feet depressing the clutch and brake pedals, and watched
slack-jawed as the pair of them
saunter
ed
over to a bright green Mazda MX-5 convertible sports car.
Oh very nice.
Clearly Fareham & Mackerel were paying a pretty penny for
this particular
employee to drive around in
that
.
Stevie was carrying
a couple of
M&S shopping bags from the food hall.
Selina was carrying a pale pink boutique bag
adorned
with
a
fancy logo.
I recognised it as that of a hideously expensive lingerie shop.
W
hatever
lay
within that bag would be black or red, incredibly wispy and extortionately expensive.
Selina’s key fob popped the central locking.
Shopping was chucked carelessly into the
boot
.
Moments later t
he engine burst into life
and the car
reversed out of its parking space.
I released the clutch
on the Muck Truck
and did likewise.
And then I did what all good detectives do.
I followed them.

As Selina’s nifty little sports car edged out of the car park and accelerated off, I realised I need
ed
to change my
mindset
about speed
.
Immediately
.
Gulping hard, I clutched the steering wheel and applied pressure to the accelerator.
The car’s engine rose and I changed gear.
Third.
Now fourth.
Okay Cass.
You can do this.
You can drive at – I peered at the speedometer – forty five miles per hour.
I was now in fifth gear.
This was unchartered territory
with my baby in the car
.
My eyes darted to the rear view mirror and sought out Eddie in his car seat.
He was fast asleep, head lolling to one side.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter and sped after Selina.
For a while it appeared the
lovers
were heading for Boxleigh.
Certainly I had assumed they were both going back to Stevie’s house.
But in due course Selina filtered on to the A2 heading towards
Greenwich
.
Surely she wouldn’t be taking Stevie back to Ethan’s apartment?
That would be far too risky now Ethan was back in the
UK
.
For a while we simply cruised.
I glanced nervously at the speedometer
.
We were up to
sixty miles per hour
.
W
ater
was
trickling down my sides.
Were my armpits
leaking
?
I risked taking one hand off the steering wheel and flicked the air con on.
So what if the outside temperature was only five degrees.
Right now, inside my long tee,
there was a heatwave going on.

Eventually the Mazda filtered off the carriageway.
We were heading towards Blackheath.
Ah yes.
I seemed to remember Jamie saying that Selina had an apartment in this area.
Had she not sold it before moving in with Ethan?
I had a feeling I was about to find out.
We bounced along several residential roads before Selina indicated left.
Slowing down, I watched as the Mazda swung through a pair of towering twin gateposts topped with
concrete
lions.
I crawled past.
Whichever apartment was hers, it was part of an elegant Grade II listed building.
I indicated and pulled over, parking two wheels illegally on the pavement.
Craning my neck round
,
I watched as Selina and Stevie – now carrying the shopping bags – went through the imposing front door.
They’d had a morning bonk, done a bit of sexy shopping and were no doubt all set for more sex with sex food on the side.
I shook my head.
What a way to spend a day.
Scanning the building
,
I deduced
there were
three flats.
Basement, ground and top floor.
Very smart.
Very expensive.
The lobby door closed behind them
.
F
or a moment I wondered what to do next.
Jamie would be apoplectic if he knew I’d gone spying.
I couldn’t possibly tell him.
Nor would it do any good trying to convince him Stevie and Selina were having an affair.
It would make his position with Ethan untenable.
And if I confronted Stevie, what would he say?
Probably, ‘Mind your own business Cass.’
Which, come to think of it, was more or less what Jamie had said when we’d bathed Eddie last night.

I glanced at my watch.
Time to be thinking about the school run.
And not a moment to lose
, b
ecause no way was I roaring back to Boxleigh Grammar at nearly sixty miles per hour.
Forty minutes later I was parked outside the school gates.
Eddie was starting to stir.
He opened his eyes and grinned with delight when his siblings piled into the car.

‘Hi Cass,’ Dylan slid in behind Toby
.
‘
Y
ou don’t need to
give me a lift
in future
.
Everything is fine with me and Richard Clegg now.’

‘
Is it?’ I waited for the back passenger door
to close, indicated and pulled out
.

‘Are yo
u now the best of chums then?’

‘Hardly!’ Dylan scoffed.
‘You told me to beat him up.
Remember?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I spluttered, ‘fighting talk is one thing.
To actually start a fight is something totally different.’

‘No,’ Dylan furrowed his brow, ‘you pointed out that I was twice the size of Richard Clegg and ask
ed if I couldn’t beat him up?’