WOKE UP on the sofa to be greeted by the hang-over from hell. As the events of earlier that day came flooding back, she cursed herself for letting fly at Terry. She was now a hundred per cent sure that he was having an affair. She was his wife for God’s sake and women just know these things.
The smell of perfume on his shirts. The fact he left his mobile locked safely in his glove box. She’d even gone as far as sifting through his dirty underwear, checking for stains and that unmistakable smell of sex. She might be a lot of things but silly wasn’t one of them. Give him enough rope and he’ll hang himself, that had always been her motto, and now she’d gone and blown it. After the earlier show-down he’d be more careful than ever at covering his tracks. Jackanory would have been proud of Davey Mullins’ version of events. There were more holes in his story than a pair of fishnet stockings. Swanley my arse, she thought as she gingerly lifted herself off the sofa. Her head was pounding and was making her feel sick. Deciding that the only thing to perk her up would be the good old-fashioned hair of the dog, she headed towards the kitchen. An Alka Seltzer and two vinos later, she started to feel like her old self. Her headache had gone, her hands had stopped shaking and she felt ready to face another day. Hearing footsteps, she froze for a second, thinking it was him. Once she realised it was only Billie, she breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Oh it’s you. I thought it was your dad.’
Plonking herself down at the kitchen table, Billie came straight to the point. ‘Is it all right if I stay at Tiffany’s tonight? It’s her dad’s birthday and they’ve invited me to go for a meal with them.’
Billie knew the answer would be yes before she’d even finished the question. Her mum didn’t give a shit where she went, what she did or who she was with. If she said she was going out with Fred and Rosemary West for a meal, her mother would have OK’d it. Her dad was a different kettle of fish. He wanted to know where she was going, who she was with, spoke personally to all of her friends’ parents to check arrangements, and made sure she had a lift to and fro.
‘Of course you can stay at Tiff’s.’ Michelle breathed a sigh of relief. It was her best friend Hazel’s birthday and she’d arranged to go out later with her and the rest of the girls from the gym. The fact she now didn’t have to rush back suited her down to the ground, let Sleeping Beauty upstairs have a taste of his own medicine. See if he liked it, if she stayed out all night. Surreptitiously retrieving the wine glass that she’d shoved behind the microwave when Billie had first entered the kitchen, Chelle turned to face her daughter.
‘I’m going upstairs to get ready now, Bill. You have a nice time tonight.’
‘Thanks,’ Billie said, watching her mother swan out of the kitchen.
Trying on outfits galore, then chucking them on the floor in a temper as she realised they no longer fitted, Michelle felt like screaming. Making as much noise as she could to try and wake the no-good bastard sleeping in the next room, she opted for her old faithful black pinstriped suit. Looking in the mirror did nothing to enchant her mood. She instantly decided she was rejoining Weight Watchers first thing Monday morning.
Once he heard the front door slam and his wife’s Mercedes pull off the drive, Terry jumped out of bed. He’d been pretending to be asleep for the last hour, even acting out a couple of snores. Hearing his old woman getting ready, he’d guessed she was off out somewhere and rather than facing a Spanish Inquisition, he’d decided to stay put until she’d left. Casually he wandered downstairs.
‘Morning, Princess.’ Putting his big arms around his daughter, he pulled her close and held her tightly. Billie hugged him back and looked up at him.
‘Where was you last night, Dad? Why did you stay out all night? You might have known Mum would kick off.’
‘Oh, don’t you start on me as well.’ Terry felt guilty as he looked at his daughter’s worried face. Deciding to bluff it, he carried on. ‘I’m a businessman, Bill. I had some shit to sort out. Now forget last night, eh, what do you wanna do this afternoon?’
Billie didn’t really feel like doing anything. She’d had very little sleep and was yet to recover from the shock of her mum trying to stab her dad. Seeing her dad’s hurt expression at her lack of enthusiasm, she put on her best false smile. ‘I wouldn’t mind going to Lakeside to get a new outfit for tonight.’
Returning her smile with a false one of his own, Terry told her to get her arse in gear and be ready to go in ten minutes. ‘Bollocks,’ he muttered, as soon as she was out of earshot. He’d rather go to the dentist and have his teeth pulled out than spend a Saturday afternoon being dragged around Lakey. Four hours later and four hundred quid lighter, Terry loaded Billie’s bags onto the back seat and started up the engine. His little princess hadn’t been her usual bubbly self today and he was a bit worried about her.
‘You all right, babe?’
‘Yes fine, Dad,’ she lied.
Terry decided she must still have the hump over the silly row they’d had earlier. Standing by the doorway of Top Shop while Billie mooched inside, he’d noticed two boyband lookalikes, mid-twenties, clocking his daughter’s arse and making suggestive comments about her. Just as he was about to go over to the bench where they were sitting, drag them up by their scrawny little necks and teach them a lesson, Billie had seen what was going on. Screaming at him, she’d given him what for.
‘If you show me up in the middle of Lakeside, I swear I’ll never talk to you again. I’m not a kid any more, Dad. I’m a young woman and boys are bound to look at me from time to time. I’d have to be a minger if they didn’t. You’re so overprotective with me, Dad, you make me sick at times.’
Agreeing with her just to keep the peace, Terry had casually slung his arm round her shoulder, giving the two lads in question his most evil look as he passed them. He had what he called a hidden camera lodged inside his brain. Not one to ever forget a face, he debated whether to return to Lakeside alone, hunt down the two little fuckers responsible for the argument and show them exactly whose daughter they were dealing with. Calming himself down, he decided against it. They were only kids after all.
‘Oi, waiter, bring us another bottle of champagne over here pronto, will ya?’ Proudly perched on her chair in the Chigwell restaurant, Michelle was now enjoying herself immensely. With her voice increasing in volume by the second, she was the life and soul of the party.
Rushing over to the table from hell, Antonio shakily topped up the glasses and quickly made an exit. Four years he’d been working as a waiter in this restaurant and he absolutely hated the sight of this particular group of women. They normally came in on the first Saturday of every month and he’d had such a gutful of them over the years that he’d managed to wangle that particular Saturday as his day off. Now here they were, as bold as brass, on the second Saturday of the month. That was just his bloody luck.
Unable to cope with their drunken, abusive behaviour, Antonio feigned a migraine and swiftly left the restaurant.
‘Bye, Princess, have a nice time tonight.’ Terry smiled as he watched his daughter walk up her best friend’s driveway. Once he made sure that the door was opened and she was safely inside, he sped off to pick up Davey Mullins.
After drinking the restaurant dry of champagne, Michelle was in her observant mood. Sitting quietly, she surveyed her group of friends. They’d all met working out together at their local gym, and over the years had disclosed their innermost secrets to one another. They’d joked that one day, when they were older, they would sit down and write a book about their unusual lives.
Hazel Short
