My fists clenched and I had to keep my arms tightly folded to stop me from slapping her. ‘Firstly, I’m not living with a stranger and, secondly, Gary and I having children or not is none of your business.’
She narrowed her cold eyes at me. ‘Did you leave or did he throw you out?’
When I didn’t answer, but simply stared at her, I could almost hear the cogs working.
‘You haven’t, have you?’ she said.
‘Haven’t what?’
‘Have you committed the ultimate sin of seeing someone behind his back?’ She gasped. ‘That’s it isn’t it? You dirty little—’
‘I suggest you stop right there and leave my house.’
I hadn’t heard the door open, but I’d never been so grateful to see anyone in my life. ‘Are you all right, sweetheart?’ Kay asked.
I nodded. ‘Cynthia decided to pay me a little visit, but she’s leaving now.’
‘I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers.’ Cynthia’s beady little eyes narrowed to slits to match her mouth. ‘Tell me straight. Have you cheated on my son?’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. Get out. She’s not the one who’s been cheating. Your precious son’s the unfaithful one.’
‘Kay! Don’t…’ I pleaded with my eyes: don’t tell her about Gary.
Kay nodded. ‘It’s him you should be confronting,’ she said. ‘Now leave.’ She marched into the hall and I heard the front door being yanked open.
Cynthia didn’t follow. She glared at me instead. ‘If Gary’s had an affair, it’s all your fault.’
‘How do you work that one out?’
‘You work ridiculously long hours at that school, you’re always out with that friend of yours – the shop girl – and you haven’t given him any babies. Is it any wonder he looked elsewhere?’ She gave me one final withering look then stormed towards the lounge door.
I wasn’t going to let her get away with insulting me like that. Not anymore. ‘Not so fast.’ I grabbed her arm and she spun round; shock etched across her face. ‘I’ll admit to one thing. Gary and I are getting a divorce. If you want to know why, you can ask your son. I’m devastated that our marriage is over because, despite your influence, Gary is a good man. However, I’m also delighted my marriage has ended because it means my relationship with you is over. You truly are a hateful woman, Cynthia. You’re a snob, you’re racist, you’re homophobic, and… well, from what I’ve seen, you have no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I’m glad we didn’t have children who’d be tainted by a cold-hearted grandmother with prejudiced views. You drove your husband to an early grave and you drove your eldest son away. If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up a very lonely and bitter old woman. And when you do, you can look up the word “karma” in the dictionary and you’ll see “Cynthia Dawson” written next to it.’
The colour of Cynthia’s face matched her cardigan. ‘How dare you—?’
‘I dare very easily. You can leave now. You’re not welcome here.’
Cynthia’s mouth opened and closed a few times then she turned and stormed out of the cottage, heels clicking on the tiled floor in the hall.
As soon as the door slammed, I slumped onto the sofa, shaking. Through the shock and anger, one little ray of positivity shone; I’d finally stood up to her and it felt good. If only Gary had had the strength to do the same when we were teens, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
‘Are you okay, sweetheart?’ asked Kay, returning to the lounge. ‘That woman’s vicious, but you certainly gave her what for.’
I smiled. ‘I did, didn’t I?’
Kay nodded. ‘You look happier than I’ve seen you in ages.’
‘I feel it. Cynthia Dawson is not my problem anymore and I can’t tell you how good that feels. Do you know what? I’ve never stood up to that woman in sixteen years. First I was too young and respectful, then I was too scared of her, then I was too scared of upsetting Gary. Every time I let her say something nasty about me or someone else, I think a little part of me crumbled. I lost who I was. I think the real me might have just returned.’
‘Does that mean you’re going to start telling everyone what you think of them? Should I be scared?’
I laughed. ‘Don’t panic. I’d never be that blunt with anyone except Cynthia. Or my mother. Or Clare perhaps. I just meant that the strong, confident woman that I used to be is clearly still in there somewhere. She’s always been present at work, but she never appeared at home. Until now.’ Perhaps the future wasn’t so bleak. Coming up were a house sale and a divorce, but were those really bad things? No. They were lines in the sand ready to face a new future. A new life. A new me.
15
✉︎ From Curtis
I hope you’ve given our conversation some thought. You know I’m right!
✉︎ To Curtis
I’ve thought of little else! Don’t know if I dare, though! Xx
✉︎ To Sarah
Is it still OK to drop by after school? Maybe we could nip to Minty’s for a quick drink xx
✉︎ From Sarah
You’ve twisted my arm! See you later xx
‘What’s this?’ Sarah asked as I thrust a sparkly silver gift bag into her hands on Wednesday evening after she’d locked the door and turned the sign round to ‘closed’. ‘It’s not my birthday for a while yet.’
‘It’s a little peace offering,’ I said. ‘I’ve been a rubbish friend recently.’
‘Hey, don’t say that.’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve always been there for me and I’d be a rubbish friend if I didn’t understand why you’ve been a little…’ She paused as if trying to find the right word, ‘… distracted lately.’
I smiled. ‘Distracted? I like it. It’s a good description. Open it, then.’
She gently placed the bag on the counter and pulled out some crumpled lilac tissue paper followed by an A5-sized notepad bound in ivory silk with a teal ribbon round it. ‘My Wedding Planner,’ she read. She flicked it open. Soft cream, beige, and pastel blue pages revealed headings such as, ‘My Bridesmaids’, ‘My Cake’, ‘My Dress’. ‘Elise! It’s gorgeous. I love it.’ Still holding the planner, she threw her arms round me and I hugged her back tightly, relieved that things weren’t awkward between us after my ‘distracted’ behaviour.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered into my hair. ‘And thanks for coming round. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too.’ I gave her another squeeze then released her. ‘Now get cashed up while I vacuum, then we can get to the pub. There’s something I want to run by you.’
Over a bottle of Pinot, we discussed Sarah’s wedding in the same sort of detail we used to when we were younger only, this time, it was for real instead of a fantasy. She’d been a little reluctant to talk about it at first, but I managed to convince her that I was genuinely interested and that I might have been a little too ‘distracted’ to take it all in on Sunday at The Chocolate Pot. It soon became apparent that I’d been a little more than ‘distracted’; I hadn’t listened to a word because hardly anything she told me rang a bell. No wonder Clare had felt the need to have a quiet word.