Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (5 page)

“What never?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’re well shot of him. I hate tight men. One thing about Simon, he’s never mean with money.”

“Simon’s nice.”

“And this Martyn wasn’t?”

“Isn’t.”

“Okay, so he’s left you feeling irritated. But why? You said you finished with him—hasn’t that solved your problem?”

“Well, one problem’s solved. I don’t have to go out with him anymore.”

“I don’t understand, Moya. You’re not making sense, and you’re usually so in control. You seem…upset, as if you still cared or minded what he did. No, don’t deny it. I can read you like a sister. We’ve known each other far too long to muck around. Moya, what is it?”

I chewed on a crispy-battered sweet-and-sour prawn before answering.

“Okay, I admit it. I do mind. But not because of me—it’s because it doesn’t feel right.”

She frowned and waved her wine glass at me. “Not right? In what way?”

“Apart from being a tight arse over money, he’s odd. He acts in a creepy, scary sort of way. Look, when I first met up with Evie on Saturday, she acted like she was over the moon about something. From the moment I set eyes on her, I knew something had happened. She looked so different…new clothes and had changed her hair. You know her—she’s usually so conservative, almost boring, she’s so predictable. Then she told me how she’d met this amazing guy…and eventually it all came out and told me it was Martyn.”

“Ah I see! So? It’s not unheard of that siblings change partners and go out with their brothers’ or sisters’ cast-offs.”

“I know, but this is different. Evie was itching to tell me and at the same time hesitant, as she thought I’d be inconsolable.
And
she and Martyn told Mum and Darcy about him and me.”

“That sort of makes sense. It would have come out sometime.”

“True, but Martyn told Evie and Mum that
he
dumped
me
!”

“Ah! I get you now.” She pondered over my words. “Maybe he’s embarrassed…doesn’t want to lose face in front of Evie and your family.  If I were you, I’d ignore it and put it all behind you. He sounds insecure, if you ask me. A bit of a pathetic weed. I don’t see how you can consider it scary, though.”

I laid down my chopsticks and poured us some more wine. Pathetic weed? I hoped that was all he was.

“Okay, so maybe I’m overreacting. Forget it, I’m being stupid.”

“Yep. Won’t be the first time.”

I was like a dog with a bone. “Okay, but what are the real chances of meeting my sister? I mean bumping into her like that?”

Faye shrugged. “It happens all the time. The world’s a small place. Kismet, perhaps.”

I shivered. “That’s what he said.”

“Are you going to have the last of the duck or have you finished?”

“You have it. I’m full. I see your cold hasn’t dampened your appetite.” I leaned back against the sofa, enjoying the cosiness of the room and seeing my best friend again.

“Like my granny always said, ‘starve a fever, feed a cold’. I’ve never really believed that, but you’re right, I
am
hungry.”

“So, how’s Simon? What time’s he due back?”

“About ten. He’s fine.”

“Just fine? You spend half your life away pining for him. I’d have thought it would be all wine and roses on your return.”

She gave the fire a poke, and sparks flew up the chimney. I peered at her face and sensed she was troubled about something.

“Oh it is.” She waved a hand towards an enormous vase of flowers sitting on a table in the corner. “He’s always pleased when I’m home. It’s just this wretched wedding next year and the child thing. I find it all a bit frightening.”

“Well, you already live together.”

“Yes, but buying a house and getting hitched is so…massive. I mean, I believe in marriage vows, but what if it’s all wrong?”

“Now
you’re
not making sense. What will be so different? You share bills and do most things together.”

“Yes, but it’s the hugeness of it all. Do I want to be tied to one person for the rest of my life, no matter how easy-going they are? Always having to consider someone else, and with a baby, that’s one more being to bear in mind. It’s a gigantic step.” She sighed. “Don’t mind me. I’m just tired and full of bugs and hate the idea of becoming middle-aged.”

“Just be thankful middle-age is forty-plus now. A few decades ago it was thirty-something.”

I laughed and ducked as she threw a cushion at me.

We were still giggling when we heard a clunk in the hall outside and footsteps head towards the living room.

Simon poked his head round the door, raindrops glistening in his hair. “Hi, girls. Thought I’d make some coffee. Can I get you both one?” He walked into the room and bent down towards Faye.

“How are you feeling, darling? I bought you this,” he said, kissing her gently on the mouth and handing her a fair-sized bar of chocolate.

“A little better thank you, and coffee sounds good. Oh, ginger chocolate for afters! How well you know me.”

I smiled to myself, thinking that if he knew her that well, I wondered why she got so worked up about anything. Simon was so nice, calm and understanding. He spent most of his time ensuring Faye was happy. It wasn’t every day men like him came along.

***

That week whizzed by, and I couldn’t believe it when the weekend arrived. I was busy at work, with few gaps in the diary, and on two evenings, I almost chickened out on my run or visiting the gym because I felt dead beat.

Mum called earlier in the week and asked if I would go for Sunday lunch. As I hadn’t got a hot date, I decided some home cooking would be almost as good. That was until she told me who was invited.

“Evie was so pleased the three of you got on well last Saturday. She said it was a weight off her mind. You know, you should have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“About you and Martyn splitting up. It’s not nice feeling miserable all on your own and I expect Faye was away gallivanting around Europe as usual? Where are your friends when you need them?”

“Yes, but that’s got nothing to do with it. Faye works there. But she might be coming back to the UK to work. And Mum, I wasn’t miserable at all, actually. I’m perfectly happy on my own. I don’t know why you think otherwise.”

“You’re being very adult about this.”

For fuck’s sake, I thought. I’m thirty-seven, not some spotty teenager full of angst after losing their first love. What was the point of explaining? Nobody seemed to believe me.

“Anyway, I’m delighted Evie’s so happy, and Martyn obviously adores her. He’s so gentle and careful with her, it makes me feel something good will come out of this. So, Sunday lunch with all the family, then? I think it’s important for Evie to introduce Martyn properly.”

I suppressed a sigh; it would be ghastly, but if I failed to agree and turn up, my family would never have believed I wasn’t sulking. Talk about moral blackmail.

“Yes, I’ll be there.”

“Evie suffered badly when her marriage broke up. She deserves another opportunity and believes Martyn’s the one. I know she never says anything, but a mother can tell.”

“Then let’s hope he is the one for her if she’s so determined.”

There was a silence from the other end, and I realised I sounded bitchy. While I was wondering what to say to countermand this, Mum continued.

“Don’t be mean, Moya. Let Evie be happy. You have lots of boyfriends, all the time. Let her have this one chance.”

“Mum! Of course. Look, I’ve got to go. See you Sunday.” It all seemed so bloody cosy. What I didn’t understand was why Martyn had homed in on Evie. They were nothing like suited.

Chapter 6

Sunday dawned, and thankfully the last week of drizzly weather gave way to a fine October day. I made certain I was on time for lunch, as in my head I felt damn sure if I had been early or late, it would have raised eyebrows. By arriving early, there was a chance Evie would have imagined me muttering a few choice whinges to Mum about her and Martyn. On the other hand, if I arrived late, I could quite easily have been accused of trying to steal the show by making an entrance. Neither scenario made me feel at ease.

The same applied to my appearance. Although Sunday lunch at home was casual, everyone made some attempt to look smart without wearing their Sunday best. I wanted to look carefree and chic at the same time. Too much glamour and I could look pitifully over-dressed; equally, I couldn’t amble in looking like I was sedated on anti-depressants, wearing tatty jeans, a baggy sweater and no bra.

I sifted through my wardrobe, taking out one garment after another, only to return it after trying it on, before deciding to wear my emerald-green dress of fine merino wool, with black knee-high boots and matching belt. The outfit was an old favourite, and I always felt comfortable wearing it. As I cinched the leather in an extra notch round my waist, I noticed I had lost weight and put it down to overwork and probably excessive exercise. A touch of eye make-up, pale lipstick and a dab of scent completed my ensemble. Nothing underwhelming or over the top to make any kind of statement. Perfect. I made my way to Mum’s.

“You look nice,” she said as she opened the door to me. “I’ve always liked that dress, but my goodness, I believe you’ve lost weight since I last saw you.”

She eyed me with a mother’s concern, and I guessed what she was thinking. No, I wasn’t bloody pining.

“It’s the running and gym. I’m trying out a new routine, but it might not be the right one for me.”

“You’re too thin. Thank you for the flowers…they’re lovely,” she said, almost as an afterthought and sniffed them. “Chrysanthemums always make me think winter’s almost upon us. Not that I don’t like them,” she added hastily.

I followed her down the hall, hearing conversation coming from the rear of the house.

“Everyone’s in the garden, making the most of the sunshine. Hasn’t it been a dreadful week until today?”

While she disappeared into the kitchen, after insisting I join the ‘youngsters’, I walked through the dining room and hovered on the step before taking the plunge into the bosom of my family. They were all there, including Evie and of course, Martyn.

Mum’s garden was lovely and absolutely flawless, thanks to hers and old George’s efforts. George was a pensioner who adored cruises. He supplemented his pension by caring for gardens, and he had cared for Mum’s as long as I could remember. I sometimes wondered if he fancied her in an odd pensioner sort of way. I supposed pensioners did still think about sex, even if they …no, I couldn’t go there. That was my mother I was day-dreaming about.

Angela, the third girl of the family and my younger sister, sat next to her husband, Dale. Their two children—my niece and nephew—six-year-old Kirsty and four-year-old Liam were busy terrorising their ever-patient and forgiving golden Labrador, Ginny.
Nothing new there
, I thought, screwing up my eyes against the sunlight.

Darcy, my baby sister of sixteen, caught my eye and raised a hand as she walked across the grass towards me. Her greeting saved me the bother of acknowledging Martyn and Evie just yet. I wanted a minute or two to compose myself before they thrust their bonhomie upon me.

“Moya, I’m so glad you came. I want you to talk to Mum. I want to go to a party later, and she’s said no way can I go unless I’m back by ten.”

I surreptitiously looked my youngest sister up and down. She had toned down the vampy black look of thick black eye shadow, chunky jewellery and heavily studded leatherwear. For once, she was wearing some sort of tunic-type dress over leggings and short boots. She looked normal. Even so, Mum had her rules: the following day was a school day and I said so.

“Aw, Moya, you’re so bloody mean! I thought you’d understand.”

“I do, but look at it from her side. You’re well into your studies, and you only get one chance. You’re bright, Darcy. Far cleverer than the rest of us. Mum’s determined you go to uni, and I’m behind her one hundred per cent this time. Please…don’t let her down, and while I’m on the subject, mind your language.”

“But it’s a party at that new club, and I promised her I wouldn’t be in late. How will I be able to look my friends in the face if I can’t stay out until eleven?”

“Darcy, you’re never in on time. And if it was my choice, I’d only let you stay until ten o’clock on
any
night. Town’s a rough place for a girl.”

“You’re so bloody unfair. You act like you’re my mother sometimes!” She pulled a face at me, and I believe she would have said more if it hadn’t been for Evie and Martyn joining us.

Evie was looking radiant and poised in another new outfit. She was wearing a deep-blue dress in light soft wool. It clung to her curvy hips and breasts, and for her, I noticed, she was showing more leg than usual.

Martyn sidled up from behind, placed a palm in the small of my back, just above my buttocks and pressed a glass of red wine into my hands. “Hi, Moya, you look like you could do with a drink. Evie and I were just saying you look a bit tired. Had a hard week?”