Lipstick and Lies (4 page)

‘
T
urn out the light darling,
’
I cooed.

‘
Don’t be daft Cassie
.
Y
ou’re in the bath.
’

‘
Yes I know
,
but I don’t want you seeing m
e–
’ I
broke off
in surprise.
‘
Jamie
,
what are you doing?
’

My husband had
dumped the sponge and was now urgently shedding his clothes
.

‘
You don’t need the light off
,’ his t-shirt flew through the air and landed in the washbasin, ‘
because you aren’t getting out of the bath
.
’

‘
Wh
at are you talk–
?
’

‘
I
shall get
in the bath with
you
.
’
A
pair of socks had now been balled up and
toss
ed
over one shoulder.
They sailed through the air
.
A
nd
disappeared down
the toilet.

‘
Don’t be daft you can’t
– Oh
!’

A
tidal wave cascaded over the side of the bath a
s Jamie
joined me
.
As h
is
mouth glued to mine
,
my insides turned to mush
.
Seconds later we came up for air.

‘
I love you Cassie,
’
he roared into my
armpit
.

‘
And
I love
–
argh
– you but –
ouch
–
you’re
squashing my boobs
.
T
hey’re
still
awfully
tender.
’

‘
Sorry
, sorry,’ Jamie panted
.
‘N
o problem
.
Y
ou get on top
.
’

Jamie wriggled
within the bath’s confines
,
manoeuvring
my position
.
This was
entirely
unacceptable
.
Under no circumstances was
he having a
daytime
audience with my baby tummy or
overhanging view of
my face which
–
when
in the grip of gravity
–
gave a whole new meaning to the
word
gobsmacked
.

‘
No!’ I protested
,
as
my body
went
from
horizontal to vertical
.
Gallons of water splashed onto
the floor
.

‘
Yes
!
Yes!
’
Jamie insisted
feverishly
.
He pulled me down on top of him
.
A
nd
instantly disappeared under
a landslide of
mammary
tissue
.
M
aybe this wasn’t so bad.
My
spare tyres
had gone
unnoticed thanks to my
husband
being
blinded by bosoms.

By the time things had come to a bathroom-wrecking crescendo, I
had
just
twenty minutes to
dry my hair and apply party m
akeup
.

As I
hurriedly
blasted the hairdryer over my tingling scalp, I
vowed
that in my next life I would be a man.
They had it so easy!
A
few strokes of the razor
and
a splash of aftershave
,
and they were done.
No messing about with flat irons
or mascara wands.
Unless they were transvestite
s
or drag queen
s
.
Or simply thoroughly vain.
An image of my ex-husband sprang to mind.
I was ninety-nine per cent
certain
Stevie
was on intimate terms with
the hair dye.
Shade
Elvis Presley
.
I
also
had a horrible feeling he might be at
the
party this evening
.
Since our separation and subsequent divorce
,
he’d somehow managed to
charmingly crowbar
his way into my new circle of friends.
It wasn’t as if we were at loggerheads with each other – those days were long gone – but surely it wasn’t the done thing to be on the
same
social circuit with one’s
ex
.
W
hatever
outrageously flirty antics
Stevie
got
up to
this evening
, thankfully it no longer
concerned
me
.
Unlike two years ago to
this day
.
S
till married to each other,
w
e
’d been
guests
at another New Year’s Eve party.
I’d
i
nadvertently walked into our host’s bedroom
to find
a porky middle-aged woman
bonking the living daylights out
of him.
T
hat
memorable
little episode had been the concluding chapter
of
our
turbulent
marriage.
The pleasure of keeping Stevie in check now fell upon the
much younger
shoulders of his current live-in beau, Charlotte
.
She was
a stunning twenty year old with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue.

I applied
some
glossy lipstick
.
Thank God
for
my
Jamie,
loyal and true.

‘
Nearly ready darling?
’
Jamie stuck his head around the b
edroom
door.
‘Wow.
Y
ou look beautiful
.
I love the dress.
’

I turned to face him.
‘
It was a bit of a squeeze getting into it
.’
Material strained at the seams.
Beneath the plunging neckline, my boobs jostled for space
.
‘
You don’t think it’s vampy?
’

‘
Yes
.
B
ut
compared to whatever
Morag will be wearing
,
it’s
positively
demure.
’

I giggled.
This much was true.
Morag
was not afraid to flaunt her chest, the measurement of which put
Katie Price
in the shade
.

‘
Just to let you know,
the taxi
is
here
.
S
ee you downstairs.
’

‘
Okay
.
W
on’t be a
mo
.
’

I quickly
threaded
some
dangly
earrings
through
my
ear
lobes
.
Then, padding
across the bedroom to my wardrobe, found my party stilettos and rammed my feet in.
Whoa
!
I
t had been a long time since I’d worn shoes like this.

Teetering out of the bedroom, I crossed
the landing
.
I couldn’t leave without saying goodnight to the children.
I also wanted to check Jonas’s bedroom for an illicit stash of
vodka
.
I gave a cursory knock on
his
bedroom door
, then
barged in before
contraband could be stashed.
But
my step-son
wasn’t there.
I had a quick peek in his wardrobe.
A jumble of clothing fell out.
Shoving it back in, I peered under the bed.
Festering trainers
.
No booze.
Good.
I shut
his
door quietly.
Tiptoeing over to
Toby’s
room
, I avoided
the squeaky floorboard
and
cupped
an ear against my son’s door
.
It
instantly
flew open
.
P
arty poppers exploded in my face.

‘
Happy New Year Mum!
’
my son
laughed
uproariously
.

‘
Oh f
or goodness sake Toby!
’
I
snapped
irritably
.
‘You frightened the living daylights out of me.’
I p
lucked
a tangle of
streamers
off one
shoulder.

‘
That was the general idea,
’
Toby
shrugged
.

‘
I’m off
in a minute
.
Where’s Jonas?
’

‘
H
ere
.
’
A
tousled head
appeared
from the other side of
Toby’s
bed
.
Seconds later an arm followed.
A
Wii controller
was
clasped firmly
in
one
hand.

‘
Okay boys.
I’ll see you both in the morning.
Be good for
N
anny
Edna
.
Happy N
ew Y
–
’

T
he door
slammed in
my face.
Charming.
Not.
A little chat about manners was overdue.
Downstairs the taxi beeped
its
horn.
Yes, yes, all right.

I
stood outside L
ivvy’s
bed
room
.
K
nocked tentatively.
No response.
Sticking my head around the door
,
I surveyed a neat and tidy bedroom
.
B
ut no daughter.
I turned on my heel and
ventured over to
my step-daughter’s bedroom
.
Mumbling could be heard from within.
I
flattened
my ear to the door
.
The girls were together.
They were discussing somebody.
Or some
thing
.
A dipstick.
A pink dipstick.
No
.
A
pink
lip
stick.

‘
Come in Cass,
’
called
Petra
.
How did she know I was ear-wigging?

‘
We can see the shadow of your feet Mum!
’
Livvy
laughed
.