Rex was watching her, mulling over saying something. She could read his intent.
‘There is no reason I can’t fly. The doctor was explicit,’ she said, pre-empting him.
Rex’s head dropped.
‘I know. I just worry. If this doesn’t work, don’t you want to know you did everything you could?’
She nodded slowly, brushing her dark hair off her face. She was very tired.
‘I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me.’
Chapter Eighteen
Stella
After Stella had fed the kids and they were safely watching PAW Patrol for the fifteen-millionth time, she perched in front of her laptop. She had questions that needed answers.
‘Am I gay?’ was the first she googled, and then felt stupid. Of course she wasn’t gay! What had Coco called it? ‘Sexually fluid’? So she deleted gay and tried ‘sexually fluid’. Rather too much about fluids, but scrolling down she found features and articles from around the world. OMG, maybe I am back in fashion! But was she actually ‘sexually fluid’? Coco obviously was. But wasn’t Stella merely a bored housewife overexcited by some sexual attention? There were many articles, some exploratory and encouraging diversity (mostly on Mumsnet, which covered everything nowadays). The deeper she trawled, the more she found. The consensus seemed to be that women were increasingly looking to explore their sexuality in their late thirties/early forties. Something was missing in their lives: a lack looking for an answer. But if, two months earlier, you had asked her what she was missing, she would have said it was a ripped toyboy with an enormous cock, not a perky, size eight, green-eyed Latin girl with firm breasts and a… Even thinking about the other bit made Stella blush. What if Coco tried to make her touch her fanny? She gasped, horrified. But perhaps this was less horrifying than the perfectly formed Coco seeing her less than well-kept bush and two-baby-fanny. Something fizzed between her thighs. OMG! What was she doing?
She slammed the computer shut and poured herself a glass of wine.
Her two innocent boys were sitting on the sofa, oblivious to everything but the talking TV dogs. They were her life, her everything, she told herself. She would do anything for them. But, if that were so, why was she happy to risk their family security to just have a little fun? She couldn’t answer the question, but one thing was sure, it unsettled her.
Beside the laptop was the day’s mail. A red border poked out from the middle of the pile and Stella wondered if it might be a card or an invite. It wasn’t. The letter was ‘Not A Circular’ and was marked ‘Private and Personal’ for Jake Hammerson, Esq. She would have thrown it aside, but the logo caught her attention. IG. She knew an IG. That was where all the bloody money had been going.
She ripped it open. Look what it’s come to, thought Stella, Jake’s home so little that I am reduced to the role of PA. Actually, not PA, as Dixie clearly had a better relationship with Peter than Stella currently did with Jake.
Inside she found a detailed final demand. Flicking through the many pages of the statement, Stella’s heart thumped, sweat erupted. Blood rushed to her extremities and she wanted to smash something. Jake had been lying to her, systematically and deliberately for… the statement covered a full quarter. Every transaction was listed. The scale of his betrayal, the size of each loss, the failed spread bets, and the escalating cumulative loss sent a chill through her.
‘Jake, you lying, two-faced, shit-filled, scumbag, fuck-wit of a man!’
She was angry at him, but she was furious with herself, as she now saw that she’d known something was off. Now she knew that everything was off.
She grabbed her phone and dialled Jake’s number. It rang and rang, as she felt her temper start to boil over. As it went to voicemail yet again, she started shouting down the phone to him. ‘You don’t even have the balls to answer my call, you lying little shit! Working at the office late, my arse!! Well, guess what, Jake, I am DONE! The kids are going to their grandparents for a few days and I am going to New York. You are a DICK!’ And she hung up.
She dashed off a text to Dixie and Ana. ‘Mind made up. NY here I come. Never have I needed to escape more. See you in 48 hours. Xxx’
Her mind quickly turned to her own financial situation. Her savings would come in very handy. She wasn’t going to let Jake’s problems stop her living her life, stop her doing what she wanted for herself. The boys were mesmerised on the sofa, and about to rouse them and hustle them off to bed, she felt a spasm of love and fear. What if Jake’s problem went further than the IG account? What if there was more bad news in other accounts? With other bookmakers? Could Jake have risked their entire financial security? Their home? For what? Why? Why would he do that? The oft-quoted explanation that gambling was an addiction didn’t appease Stella. Not one iota.
Stella’s phone buzzed. She was expecting Jake to return her call, although she didn’t know if he even had the balls to do it, or maybe it was more excited planning from the manic Ana and the love-lost Dixie, but it was from Coco saying, ‘Time for a quick drink?’
‘Not really, Jake’s out and I really need to speak to him when he comes home! Sx’
‘I could come to you? Cx’
Fuck, thought Stella, I do want to see her, and it’s not like it’s weird to have another girl here if Jake comes home. A quick glass of wine can’t hurt.
‘OK, a quick one. But if Jake appears, which I hope will be soon, you need to be gone.’
‘On my way! 10 mins. X’
She quickly rushed the boys up to bed, and then had a quick check of her reflection in her mirror. Hmm… leisurewear was a good look with the under-thirties. She smelt her armpits. Eugh. She had very little time to sort herself out, especially if she wished to look effortlessly sexy. She ripped off her clothes, jumped in the shower and scrubbed herself from top to toe. She didn’t mess with her hair, grabbed some clean lacy knickers (she didn’t give herself time to ask why), a clean bra and threw her sweats back on so it looked like she didn’t care. It wasn’t like her knickers and bra actually matched, in fact she didn’t even know if she had any underwear sets in her possession. The only person she could think of who might wear a matching set was Dixie – she probably just had various degrees of ‘fuck me’ sets. Perhaps their trip to New York demanded an underwear upgrade.
The doorbell buzzed twice.
She ran down to the door, boobs bouncing and her blonde hair tied on top of her head.
‘That was quick!’ said Stella.
‘Well, I was excited,’ smiled Coco.
‘Of course, great to see you,’ said Stella, standing in her doorway. A curtain twitched at Jenny and Tim’s window. What do I do next? she wondered. Do I kiss her hello? And if so where? On the lips!? No, for god’s sake. She pulled her quickly into the hallway and closed the door behind her. Her heart was racing.
‘I’ve got some cold white wine in the fridge, that work?’
‘Perfect, thanks. I won’t stay long. What’s going on?’
Stella told her briefly that there were some issues with Jake, money issues, and that she was off to New York in the next forty-eight hours if she could get everything organised at the last minute.
Coco nodded with understanding, but Stella was certain that Coco had never been in as much jeopardy as presently hung over her marriage. ‘That sounds shattering.’