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MICHELLE SLID A MARGARITA pizza into the oven and put two flutes in the freezer to chill. She clicked on the message again. She’d lost count of how many times she’d read it.
Hi Michelle, great to hear from you. Actually, I’ve been meaning to email about the run. Sorry, I can’t make it. Tamara is going to Tenerife with her boyfriend and I’m on airport duty. Kids eh, typical, lol! Dan XX
She hadn’t been able to get past the holiday part. This girl was an adult. Michelle hadn’t replied straight away. She’d sat seething at the screen, her determination to stop reacting like a child wearing thin. By any chance, would that be the same bloody Tamara for whom he’d been waiting to grow up, so he could bloody, blasting-well leave? She wrote several spite-filled replies but, though it took all her resolve, deleted each one. In the end, she settled for a breezy, non-confrontational reply.
Oh, that’s a shame for you. It looks like it’ll be a brilliant day, the Red Arrows have confirmed for the flyover. In that case, I’ll have the room if you don’t mind? (Forgot to cancel it) Every silver cloud and all that...
Though she’d convinced herself she’d kept the hotel booking so she could use the room herself, her gut-wrenching disappointment said otherwise. So bloody-well pathetic. Pain shot through her teeth as she unclenched her jaw. She called her dentist and made an appointment for a check-up. Judy’s arrival at the front door stopped her obsessing any further.
Once settled on her stool in the kitchen, Judy sipped Prosecco and brought her up to date with the events since the funeral the week before.
‘Dead, and still messing me around.’
‘It’s good that your house is secure,’ Michelle said, sliding the pizza out of the oven. ‘Must be a huge relief.’
‘It’s such a shame his family are so nasty. You’d think they’d make an effort for Gemma if nothing else.’
Michelle carefully lowered frozen strawberries into the flutes of Prosecco and snapped a piglet charm onto the stems. Bought to cheer up Judy, they now looked a little superficial, with their goggle eyes and corkscrew tails.
‘Oooh, it’s fizzing over.’ Judy caught the frothing Prosecco with her mouth. She didn’t notice the piglets. ‘Well he’s gone, and his will stands. They’ll have to get used to it. I’m glad the bastard’s dead.’ She exhaled and looked almost relieved. ‘Sorry, God, if you’re there. Please don’t punish me.’ She turned to Michelle. ‘Is that really wicked?’
‘Nah. I’ve visualised murdering Fermín with my bare hands many a time. I would’ve done it too, if it weren’t for the going to jail and leaving Sara an orphan bit.’
‘Are you worried about that money business with him?’
‘I’ve heard nothing more so far. And, after his desperate behaviour in Malaga, I reckon he knows he can’t make me pay.’
‘You know, I only wanted my fair share of our home in the divorce. And I’ve ended up with everything.’
‘I wanted nothing from Fermín, but I got harassment and bruxism,’ cackled Michelle.
Judy noticed the little pig. ‘Ooh, I love this.’ She turned to Michelle. ‘Sorry, what did you say? Bruxism?’
‘I’ve been gritting and grinding my teeth so much I’ve started to wear them down. I think I might need to wear a gumshield at night.’ Michelle laughed. ‘So un-sexy. Good job I’m single.’
‘I bet you were gritting your teeth when you pulverised my old mobile phone.’
‘Hmm. A bit. Sorry again about that.’
‘Stuart’s trampy girlfriend phoned me. Whining on about his will and how they were going to move in together.’ She drained her glass and reached for the bottle. ‘Wanted me to hand over the insurance policy – that I paid for. Said she knew what Stuart wanted for her.’
‘Did you tell her where to go?’
‘I told her I knew exactly what Stuart wanted her for,’ said Judy. ‘Then I told her to sling her trashy hook.’
Michelle quashed the voice in her head that reminded her of her own trashy behaviour with a married man. She raised her glass to Judy’s. ‘Good for you... The brazen hussy, stealing another woman’s husband.’
‘You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to take me and Gemma on holiday.’ Judy swayed a little on her stool. ‘Do you think we’re drinking too much?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘No. I only usually drink when I see you and that’s once a week.’
‘I suppose you’re right. And we’ve been on holiday recently, and then there was the funeral.’
‘Do you have enough annual leave remaining to go away so soon after Malaga?’
‘I’ll take unpaid leave if I have to for this next trip.’ She giggled. ‘I’ll leave work altogether if they don’t let me. I can afford it. We’ll go back to the Pattinson Ruby.’
‘But what if things aren’t the same with Emilio?’ Michelle thought back to her student days, and the final year of the course back in England. She’d spent it longing to get back to Fermín in Pamplona, only to be bitterly disappointed.
‘He keeps asking me to go over. Even said he’d send me a flight ticket and that I could stay at his house.’
‘Emilio seems very keen. Are you sure you can trust him?’
Fermín once told Michelle’s student friends that he’d designed a house for them to live in after they got married. She blushed as she recalled the embarrassment of having to tell everyone he wasn’t an architect after all. More because of the pitying looks she received for being so gullible, than because he worked on the assembly line in the local Seat car factory.
‘I regretted trusting Fermín.’
Michelle shuddered as she recalled the nightmare of arriving in Spain, to be told by Fermín that they’d lost the apartment they’d arranged to rent, and they were going to be living with his parents. Her stomach churned as she remembered his admission that his mother’s confusion wasn’t due to an infection, but to paranoid schizophrenia. The terrible realisation that her baby could be mentally ill. Even now she watched Sara for signs.
‘We’ll be staying at the hotel. I don’t want to look stupid if I turn up and find another middle-aged woman sitting in my seat at the bar,’ she laughed. ‘Do you want to come?’
‘I can’t take any more time off work. Anyway, you and Gemma could do with getting away together, just the two of you – after all the upset and everything. But don’t book it tonight...’
‘I hate my job anyway. I might pack it in and be done with it.’
‘Tomorrow,’ said Michelle. ‘Let’s find a film to watch.’
Judy took the bottle of Prosecco through to the lounge. Michelle texted Gemma to ask her to hide her mother’s laptop and said she’d explain later.
***
JUDY HAD JUST LEFT when Michelle noticed her phone flashing an email alert. Dan, wanting to talk about Penny and counselling, which she had apparently conceded to under threat of divorce. According to Dan, Michelle would never believe what Penny had done this time.
There’d been a time when she’d have been ecstatic to have any contact at all from Dan.
As delicately as possible, so as not to cause offence, Michelle ventured a reply. It occurred to her that perhaps this was where she was going wrong. Maybe he was one of those men who needed to be mistreated to stay interested. Tactics, like getting pissed, luring a neighbour to touch her up then blaming the neighbour, seemed to work a treat for Penny. Michelle would have treated him like her wonderful, fantastic soul-mate husband – more of the doormat approach. She made a mental note to finish Why Men Love Bitches.
All the same, she went on to warn Dan that Penny’s keenness for counselling might wane once the threat of divorce died down. She might try to convince him that she was fine. But then it would all start again. When it got bad, he’d get the blame for causing her distress and goodness knows what else. It would be his fault – she’d be very convincing – he would believe it and feel guilty. Michelle had seen it many times on her student Mental Health placements. Exhausting carry-on of a way to live.
Dan’s reply didn’t surprise her. I can’t believe what you’re saying. It’s as if you’ve been living with us all these years. She can’t help it though. She wouldn’t do it on purpose.
Michelle gave a wry laugh. Yep, I’m a doormat. Penny had him hook, line and sinker.
Bye, take care, she wrote.
