Stockings and Cellulite (11 page)

‘Oh no thanks,’ she wrinkled her nose. ‘The excitement of whether to choose ash or cherry wood cabinets would be too much for me.’

‘Don’t mock,’ I waggled a finger playfully. ‘This is my new project designed to keep me busy and buoyed up.’

‘Are you still feeling terribly raw?’ she asked looking sympathetic.

I shrugged. ‘It’s getting better. See you tomorrow evening.’

The following morning I beetled off to the local DIY store’s kitchen department. An earnest salesman tapped the vital statistics of my kitchen into a computer. Hey presto! In no time at all I was being shown a computer generated virtual tour of a kitchen Delia would die for.

‘I want it,’ I squeaked excitedly.

‘I’ll get the fitter to give you a call. Are you around this afternoon?’

I didn’t have long to wait.

‘Hello, is that Mrs Cherry?’

‘Speaking.’

‘My name’s Euan. I’m the fitter who will be installing your new kitchen. Would you mind if I paid a brief visit just to verify the drawing measurements and check out power point locations?’

‘Not at all,’ I replied. ‘When do you want to come?’

‘Well I’ve actually got a slot right now.’

I hung up feeling tremendously excited. Things were already starting to move on this new project.

When I opened the door to the fitter, I literally caught my breath. It was as though I’d been slugged in the stomach by a bag of cement. He simply oozed sexiness. I invited him in, all the while blushing furiously and feeling ridiculously tongue tied.

‘I suggest that if you’re removing the breakfast bar and relocating this row of cabinets, it might be prudent to put in a bank of electrical sockets in this area.’ Euan’s eyes were a mesmerising sapphire blue fringed with long sooty black eyelashes. My own mousy-browns positively shrieked with jealousy.

He smoothed the drawings out against the worktop with strong looking hands. I was shocked to find myself wondering what those hands would feel like travelling over my body.

‘Mrs Cherry?’

‘Oh please, call me Cass.’

‘Cass?’

‘Mm.’ I liked the way he said my name.

‘Cass?’

‘Mm, mm.’

‘Er – do you agree Cass?’

‘Oh sorry! Yes, that sounds absolutely fine. Fantastic. Ha ha!’

I hadn’t a clue what he’d been talking about.

‘Is it just the kitchen you’re doing up?’ Euan asked conversationally.

‘Well I started off thinking it would just be the kitchen but,’ I shrugged and gave what I hoped was a mysterious little smile, ‘I imagine it might extend to other things – some new furniture maybe. Top of the list is a sexy leather bed,’ I grinned.

‘A sexy leather bed eh?’ Euan murmured.

Was it my imagination or had the room suddenly gone terribly still. And if I wasn’t mistaken, was that not a twinkle in his eye? Too late I realised this wasn’t Nell I was gossiping with.

‘Y-yes. Amongst other things of course. Well thank you so much for your time Euan,’ I smiled brightly, determined to put the conversation back on a businesslike track. ‘See you again soon.’

That evening Morag picked me up in her natty little sports car and together we drove into Boxleigh Village. She’d somehow managed to secure a booking at an exclusive Italian trattoria which usually required a fortnight’s advanced booking. I pondered how she’d achieved this. Perhaps she’d ventured down earlier in person and bandied her not inconsiderable chest around in front of the mesmerised maitre-d’.

I sipped my wine and listened as, bit by bit, Morag once again took me through the meltdown of her fledgling marriage.

‘I hope you don’t mind me repeating myself Cass, it’s just that it helps to talk about it.’

‘Of course,’ I nodded my head, understanding exactly what she meant.

‘It was destined to fail from the start,’ she grimaced. ‘When I met Gordon he was a debonair fifty-two year old with a senior partnership in a top London law firm.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘And very definitely married.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘Yes. Oh dear. He captured my heart within moments of our meeting and within days we’d embarked on an illicit love affair. It was giddy stuff. A month later Gordon declared he couldn’t live without me unless I was permanently by his side – as his wife.’

There was a pause while a waiter took our orders.

‘And then he got divorced,’ I prompted her.

‘Yes. A quickie divorce followed. Meanwhile I transferred to Hempel Braithwaite to escape the gossip. We then had a discreet civil wedding with me congratulating myself on bagging such a dynamic, successful and distinguished husband.’

‘But you haven’t really told me
why
it all went wrong,’ I regarded her over the rim of my wine glass.

‘It went wrong when I pointed out that I was in my mid-thirties and horribly aware of the ticking biological clock. I wanted to start making babies, but Gordon already had three children to fund in private education with expensive lifestyles. He told me to direct any maternal energy towards my new step-children.’

‘Easier said than done.’

‘Too right. His girls positively reviled me. I was the
other woman
who had broken up their parents’ marriage. So then the arguments started with me constantly bitching and sniping.’

She broke off as the waiter re-appeared bearing plates of spaghetti carbonara.

‘It got so bad we were barely civil to each other. And then one day Gordon simply moved out. Just like that,’ she clicked her fingers. ‘Initially I didn’t know where he’d gone. Eventually a colleague gave me a tip-off and I tracked him down.’

‘Where was he?’

‘Back with his first wife.’ There was a pause while Morag wrestled with her emotions. ‘What am I going to do Cass?’ she looked at me with watering eyes over her untouched meal.

‘I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do – you’re going to bounce right back and get on with life!’ I sucked a long tendril of spaghetti into my mouth. ‘Who needs men anyway?’

‘My vibrator is very good at a lot of things but it can’t make babies.’

The couple at the next table choked on their garlic bread.

On the way home Morag drove like a man – fast and aggressive. As she flew down the outside lane of the carriageway it was with a sinking feeling I spotted a blue flashing light in the passenger wing mirror. A split second later a wail rent the cool night air.

‘Bugger,’ Morag declared. ‘Is he after us?’

I twisted my neck to look over my shoulder. Head lamps flashed in confirmation. Morag slowed and pulled onto the hard shoulder before unfolding her shapely legs from the car to greet the police officer.

‘Good evening Madam, do you know what speed you were travelling at?’

As soon as I heard his voice I froze.

‘Before we go any further,’ Morag imperiously informed, ‘I’d like you to know I’m a solicitor.’

‘That’s nice. And I’m a police officer,’ Ploddy confirmed the obvious.

I pulled up my collar and slid slowly down in my seat while Ploddy asked if the vehicle belonged to Morag and requested sight of her driver’s licence.

Irritably Morag flung open the driver’s door. ‘Pass me my bag Cassandra,’ she snapped.

I leant across the driver’s seat and silently placed the little clutch bag in her outstretched palm. Upon hearing my name, Ploddy peered enquiringly through the open door. As he stared at me in disbelief I could feel myself beginning to squirm. Was he the only police officer in Kent?

‘A very good evening to you Mrs Cherry.’

‘Thank you – and to you too Mr Pitt.’

Ploddy stared wordlessly at me before giving the smallest shake of his head.

Eventually the roadside meeting concluded with Morag being instructed to attend the local police station with all sorts of documents.

As we set off home at a sedate forty, she gave me a sidelong glance.

‘He was almost worth getting nicked for. Did you see his eyes Cass? God they were absolute heaven. And what about those wonderful broad shoulders?

‘Mm.’

‘I hope he’s on duty when I pay the local nick a visit. He can certainly put me in handcuffs any time. I wonder what his name is. How does he know you?’

‘Don’t ask,’ I groaned.

Once the twins were back from their weekend with Stevie, we sat down together we went through a collection of home style magazines.

‘Can we have our bedrooms made over?’ asked Livvy.

‘But I thought you loved Barbie,’ I said.

Livvy stuck two fingers in her mouth and made gagging noises. ‘I did – when I was
five
.’

‘Mum, we’re going to secondary school next year,’ Toby pointed out. ‘What do you think my mates are going to say when they come over? Hey, like the Action Man wallpaper bud.’

‘Point taken,’ I grumbled.

I left them to it and wandered off to my own bedroom. Standing in the open doorway, hands on hips, I assessed the room and tried to visualise ideas. I would definitely buy that leather bed. A jumbo one allowing plenty of room to stretch arms and legs like a starfish. A mental picture of my kitchen fitter rolling around with me on the mattress suddenly popped into my head. I rubbed my forehead in bemusement. Now where had that idea sprung from?

At work the following day, as the hands of the clock edged toward lunchtime, Morag tossed her handbag across her shoulder and confidently sashayed out the office to visit the police station with her documentation. She returned an hour later po-faced and disappointed.

‘He wasn’t there.’

‘Who?’ I asked as I pressed buttons and sent a document off to print.

‘Your policeman friend.’

‘Believe me, that man is no friend of mine,’ I insisted, picking papers up from the print tray.

‘God he was a stunner.’

I was too busy thinking about another stunner to comment.

The stunner in question rang my mobile an hour later.

‘Hello Cass? I need to talk to you about local tiling and plastering where the breakfast bar is to be removed. I also have some suggestions about the downlighting.’

‘Right, fire away.’

‘I think it would be better to meet up and discuss it – then we can both be sure about what we want out of this.’

‘Er, right.’ For a moment I wasn’t sure if he was talking about the kitchen or us.

‘Excellent. I’ll pick you up this evening then, about seven.’

‘That would be heavenly,’ I gushed into the handset. ‘I-I mean, fine. Whatever.’

My face was flaming as I ended the call. You idiot Cass. For God’s sake get a grip. Your workman was simply suggesting an informal business meeting to discuss an impending job. A contract. Not a date. Got it? Right. In which case, why weren’t we having the meeting on site so to speak?

I immediately whirled into action and telephoned Stevie to ask if he would have the twins for a little while this evening.

‘Sorry Cass, can’t do. I’ve got a date with a racy little blonde number.’

Well it hadn’t taken him long to move on from Cynthia had it? Or me for that matter? What about all those tear jerking pleas for reconciliation?

In the end I telephoned Nell, managing to catch her on a staff room tea break.

‘Any chance of you having Liv and Toby for a couple of hours this evening?’ I asked breathlessly.

‘Tell you what Cass, why don’t I give them their tea and then they stay for a sleepover. You can return the favour for me when Ben and I go out to celebrate our wedding anniversary tomorrow. It would be nice to know we can continue the party once back home – if you catch my drift.’

‘Deal!’

The day wore on with my mood getting more and more excitable. In total contrast Morag was sinking into a grey depression.

‘Fancy going for a drink after work Cass and drowning a sorrow or two?’

‘I’d love to,’ I lied, ‘but truly can’t. Got to sort out this new kitchen business.’

‘Oh well. Guess I’ll have to have an early night then. Just me, a brandy and my vibrator.’

I made a tutting noise. ‘You could always watch a movie you know.’

Morag perked up. ‘Good idea – me, the brandy, vibrator and a blue movie.’

I shook my head and smiled. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Once home, I quickly gathered uniform for the following day and walked the twins over to Nell’s. Scampering back across the grass strip between the two houses, I tossed my jacket over the banister and trotted up the stairs. What was I going to wear this evening? Half an hour later the bed was piled high with rejected clothing. I charged back down the stairs and dashed over to Nell’s.

‘I need to borrow something,’ I panted desperately.

‘Sure. What do you want – milk? Bread?’

‘No. Cropped jeans, stiletto heeled boots and a plunging top to show off my cleavage.’ Nell gazed at my drooping chest with an expression of disbelief. ‘I know my bosoms are currently in the grip of gravity but a Wonderbra will sort that out – can I borrow one of those too please?’

‘You’d better come in. I thought you were having a business meeting with your kitchen fitter?’

‘I am. Just want to make an impression that’s all.’

‘With your boobs jacked up to the moon?’

‘Oh for goodness sake!’ I sighed in exasperation.

Several hours later I lay in my bed – alone – mentally hugging myself. I wasn’t remotely tired and recognised the tell-tale signs of having a thumping great crush on Euan.

We had started off nursing drinks in a cosy pub, chatting about the suggested plastering and downlighting ideas. That had taken – ooh – about five minutes. Having dispensed with the formalities, we then went on to the informalities. Like the fact that Euan was separated from his wife. Although somewhat confusingly he was still living with her. However, this bit was speedily glossed over – something about waiting for a stale property market to recover in order to achieve peak price on the marital home. A distant alarm bell did faintly ring but was firmly ignored, especially when Euan went on to reassure that he and the wife were married in name only and it was strictly separate beds.

We sat drinking and talking until finally, with a deep sigh of regret, Euan looked at his watch and said he had to be going. No sooner was I firmly ensconced in his passenger seat, he leant across the handbrake and pulled me toward him for a very thorough kissing.