Stockings and Cellulite (27 page)

‘The man’s a psycho,’ declared Morag. ‘I’ve got a horrible feeling you could be stuck with him for some time Cass.’

We had shifted our lunch time rendez-vous to a pavement café, basking in warm summer sunshine as the traffic rumbled by.

‘Meanwhile,’ said Morag changing the subject, ‘last night was the best ever with Matt.’

‘Why, what did you do?’ asked Julia.

‘I rode Matt around the bedroom.’

‘Rode? I quizzed, chasing a cherry tomato around my paper plate with a plastic fork.

‘As in horse riding. Matt was a wild stallion and I had to tame him.’

‘Good grief,’ Julia muttered.

‘How did you do that?’ I asked with a perfectly straight face.

‘Well, after I’d successfully lassooed him, I hurled myself on his back and grimly hung on while he plunged about attempting to throw me off.’

‘Is this Matt we’re talking about?’ Julia frowned.

‘That’s right.’

‘Not a horse?’

‘No, Matt was the horse.’

‘But not really?’

‘No of course not,’ Morag cried in exasperation. ‘We were
pretending
.’

‘Okay. Carry on.’

‘Where was I?’

‘He was trying to chuck you off,’ I pointed out.

‘Oh yes. So I wrestled and fought with him, smacked and whacked his rump with a riding crop and finally he quietened down enough for me to pat him gently and murmur that he was a good boy, a very good boy, and good boys are always rewarded.’

‘What was his reward?’ Julia croaked.

‘I became a mare of course.’

I concentrated tremendously hard on a squiggly piece of pasta. ‘What happened next?’

‘He covered me.’

‘Covered?’ Julia’s eyebrows shot off her forehead.

‘In other words Matt gave her one,’ I explained.

‘He most certainly did,’ breathed Morag. ‘And then we both plunged about doing masses of whinnying and snorting and it was incredibly raucous and mind blowingly
awesome
.’

I boggled into my skinny latte, feeling utterly worn out just
listening
to her sexual epic, never mind taking part in it. Was this where I’d gone wrong with Stevie? Would I have held onto my erring husband if I’d been blessed with Morag’s sexually rampant imagination? All those years of lying in the missionary position when clearly I should have pranced around the bedroom on all fours and neighed upon climax.

That evening there was a tentative knock on the door. It was Nell.

‘Would you like to see my puppy?’ she beamed proudly, the way only new mothers do.

‘Oh Lord. You’ve gone and done it then?’ I stuffed my feet back into previously discarded work shoes. The twins fell in behind me as we followed Nell across the narrow grass strip that separated the two houses.

‘Don’t crowd around it,’ I warned the children as Nell reached into her pocket for the door key. ‘The puppy may be scared if it’s only just left its mother. And don’t grab or fight over who is having first cuddle. And don’t shout, we don’t want to frighten – oh!’

I broke off as an enormous and thoroughly overexcited Red Setter bounded over to Nell before swerving off in my direction. The dog goosed me hard in the groin before careering over to Nell’s fluffy slippers which it proceeded to rip to shreds.

‘Naughty!’ Nell chided in a baby voice. The dog broke into a round of deep baritone barking.

‘Nell that is
not
a puppy,’ I yelled over the din.

My neighbour smiled indulgently. She reminded me of one of those awful parents who make out their wayward child is ‘just playing’ while little Freddie bashes thump out of everybody.

‘She’s only five months old Cass and an absolute poppet. Come here Rocket,’ she cooed.

‘Rocket?’

‘Mm. But I might change it.’ Nell considered. ‘I like Lucy.’

‘Won’t a name change confuse her?’

‘Let’s see. Lucy, Lucy, L-
ooo-
cy.’ There was no response. ‘Oh well. Rocket, Rocket, R
oh-oh-oh-
ket.’

‘She doesn’t seem to recognise her official name either.’

‘All in good time Cass. I particularly want you and Rocket to get acquainted because I know you’re well and truly into your keep fit lark – and toning up very nicely too,’ Nell nodded at my flabby arms and legs, ‘and what better exercise than a brisk walk or refreshing run with a doggy? So you can borrow Rocket anytime you like Cass.’

Oh fabulous. Clearly going for a run without Rocket was not an option.

‘So let’s make an arrangement right now, hm? How about tomorrow after work?’

‘Can’t wait,’ I smiled through gritted teeth.

The next several days saw me lacing up my trainers and pounding the local pavements, sometimes with the twins in tow on their bicycles, other times leaving them with Nell while I went out and jogged steadily on my own. Rocket had a tendency to pull like a steam train on the lead which was surely doing wonders for toning my upper arms. I’d also come to the conclusion that my neighbour’s dog was definitely a few Bonios short of a full box.

One Saturday morning I decided to jog to the local park. Taking a short cut through the cemetery, I puffed along beside Rocket as we passed rows of lichen stained headstones. I gave an involuntary shiver, anxious to leave an area where grief and tears seemed to permanently hang in the air.

We shot through a gap in the hedge and out on to adjacent parkland where the mood instantly lifted. Swings and climbing frames in bright primary colours nestled next to an emerald green cricket pitch. An overlooking pavilion was spray-canned in a riotous rainbow of graffiti.

Bending down I released the catch on the leash. Rocket, just like her name, shot off like a pre-programmed missile. Breaking into a gentle jog I paced after her. Clearly she thought it was a game of chase. She happily frolicked ahead before sharply turning round to face me, barking rowdily a few times and then careering off. This pattern continued until my mobile phone trilled the arrival of a text message. It was from Morag.

Don’t panic but I’m in hospital. Mistook a daffodil bulb for an onion. The doc has told me I’ll be okay but not to expect to come out until Spring.

I hit the call button.

‘Very droll,’ I deadpanned into the handset.

‘Thought you’d appreciate it,’ she chortled. ‘Fancy coming to a party tonight?’

‘I’d love to, but aren’t you out with Matt?’

‘Oh definitely, but it’s a fancy dress party and the host says the more the merrier. You don’t have to go to any elaborate measures or anything.’

‘I knew all those years of watching Blue Peter were worthwhile. I shall concoct something amazing out of sticky back plastic and cardboard,’ I laughed. ‘Are you sure I won’t cramp your style? I don’t want to play gooseberry to you and Matt.’

‘Not at all,’ Morag replied. ‘Anyway Mac will be there. You know – Jamie.’

At the mention of his name, I froze. Even though I was on my own, merely thinking about him had me blushing bright red. I swallowed.

‘Are you still there Cass? I think you’re breaking up on me.’

‘Still here,’ I croaked.

‘Good. Come to ours around sevenish.’

Lost in thought, I nearly walked into a tree.

Right Cass. Let’s have a little think about this. You’ve privately admitted to having a massive crush on Jamie. So here’s your chance to pull out all the glamour stops.

Spirits lifting, I whistled Rocket to heel and snapped the leash back on. She trotted along beside me looking hot and bothered, tongue hanging out and panting heavily. A bit like me when I thought of Jamie.

Back home, as soon as the twins had gone to Stevie’s, I whirred into action cutting up black sacks and tin foil, stapling here, nipping and tucking there. Somewhere in the back of my wardrobe were some silver stilettos and a sparkly belt. There they were! Perfect. Next came the truly challenging part. Attempting to transform the face. If only one could nip and tuck the slackening jaw line.

At quarter to seven, full of nervous anticipation at seeing Jamie again, I drove to Matt’s. Interesting that Morag had said to meet at
our’s
. She was obviously spending the bulk of her time there.

‘Wow!’ gushed Morag as she admired my synthetic ensemble. ‘Plastic fantastic! Who are you meant to be?’

‘A visitor from another world,’ I intoned in an alien voice. I followed Morag’s undulating bottom, tightly encased in straining jodhpurs, into the hallway. I wasn’t entirely sure her ‘think thin’ diet was working. However, she looked amazing and I told her so.

‘Thank you,’ she said giving a little twirl. ‘I’m a show jumper.’ I took in the beige breeches, white shirt and smart show jacket, no doubt filched from one of Matt’s daughter’s wardrobes. I’d never seen any horsy gels looking quite like Morag with her top three buttons undone, an over-abundance of cleavage spilling forth, or swapping traditional riding footwear for thigh high patent leather boots. Only someone like Morag could pull the whole thing off and look ravishing with it.

‘Hi Cass,’ greeted Matt pecking me on the cheek. He was decked out in a red hunting jacket and cream jodhpurs. ‘You look stunning. Gin and tonic?’ he thrust a crystal tumbler clinking with ice and lemon in my direction. I glugged gratefully just as the doorbell rang again. In strode Jamie, naturally dressed in his dark police uniform which sent my pulse rate soaring. Predictably my face reddened. He greeted us all warmly and gave me a very thorough once over.

‘Sexy,’ he winked.

I nearly choked on my lemon. Was he flirting? Or was I misreading a simple compliment?

The party was in full flow when we arrived. Music blasted from an enormous plasma screen set high on the wall. An assortment of pirates, pink ladies, noblemen and queens were already bevvied up and boogying to the beat. Morag and Matt were completely into each other, nose to nose in an amorous clinch. Jamie had been button-holed by a sinuously clinging female with long raven hair snaking down her back. A hungry predatory look lit her thin face.

‘Are you really a policeman?’ she was cooing huskily.

There was something slithery about her and I speculated whether she’d come as a serpent. Not wishing to intrude I melted away, previous bubbles of happiness popping like cheap washing up liquid. I slid behind a tall potted plant momentarily wishing I were back home and curled up in front of the telly with a chocolate bar.

A clammy hand brushed against my bare arm followed by a waft of sour whisky fumes as a short balding man made his presence known.

‘Hiya sweet creature,’ he leered into my face and softly belched. ‘What delightful planet have you ventured from in that sexy flying suit?’

I held my breath as a whiff of garlicky vol-au-vent shot up my nose.

‘Geddoff ’er Sammy,’ chided another man lurching over. ‘This lay-dee ain’t interested in riff raff like you.’

Unfortunately my rescuer was not a knight in shining armour, more a clone of his companion, the only difference being he reeked of gin and pickled onions.

‘Care to dance sexy momma?’ The newcomer winked lasciviously, clearly under the impression he was God’s gift.

‘Well I-’

‘
Dar
ling! I’ve been looking for you
every
where,’ said a familiar voice as a firm hand propelled me away from a mixture of bad breath and potted palm leaves. ‘Do excuse us gentlemen but I’ve come to dance with my wife.’

Speechless, I allowed Jamie to lead me away on his arm leaving the two men looking faintly embarrassed.

‘Thank you,’ I mumbled, spotting Snake Woman in the corner tossing venomous glances in my direction.

‘My pleasure,’ Jamie assured pulling me close.

I nose-dived ecstatically into his broad uniformed shoulder as we started to dance.

‘It’s lovely to see you again Cassie,’ Jamie gave me a squeeze.

‘You too,’ I quickly replied. Hell, if he could say it then couldn’t I?

‘That’s a lovely perfume you’re wearing.’

‘You too.’ I said again before inwardly cringing. Berk. ‘I mean your aftershave. Very nice.’

Jamie pulled back slightly to look at me properly. ‘And while the compliments are rolling, I have to tell you that you really do look absolutely sensational this evening.’

I bit my lip to stop another
you too
from blurting out
,
although such an admission would have been perfectly true. He looked divine. I still couldn’t decide whether he was flirting with me or just being charismatic company. I simply wasn’t savvy or confident enough to be sure if it was the former. But one thing I did know was that right here, right now, I was in his arms and enjoying every second.

Occasionally we made trips to the buffet table and sat side by side to eat. I made sure I leant in toward him after reading somewhere that it was meant to be a flirtatious gesture of body language. I was delighted when Jamie copied this move and took it one step further by rather seductively hand feeding me. As he popped a black olive in my mouth I had an overwhelming urge to suck on his fingers and lick my way down his hand. The man enthralled me. Captivated me. If I’d been twenty years younger I might have confused the highly charged feelings thundering through my veins as falling in love.

‘So are you still out of the dating game?’ Jamie asked.

‘Oh absolutely,’ I replied automatically and instantly regretted it. Idiot! I should have come up with some witty little remark to let him know I was up for a date if he would only just ask.

‘Livvy and Toby are coming on in leaps and bounds with their riding,’ Jamie changed the subject, much to my disappointment.

‘Mm, they love it. They’re always talking about Petra and Jonas too and how kind they are letting them ride their pony sometimes.’

‘It’s nice they all get on so well,’ Jamie said. ‘We’ll have to get together and take them out. Make a day of it.’

‘Yes,’ I nodded eagerly. So what if the outing was about the kids. I’d be there with him!

‘Consider it a date in the not-too-distant future,’ Jamie twinkled. ‘Come on, let’s go and have another dance.’

I wanted the evening to never end but in time, of course, it did.

Back at Matt’s house we all piled happily into the kitchen for final nightcaps and a party post-mortem, but at the last minute Jamie excused himself on the grounds of needing to return to Petra and Jonas whom he’d left with his mother. He raised a hand in farewell to the three of us and then he was gone. I almost wept. And when I got home I did. I cried relentlessly for a good two hours without really understanding why.