Happy Ever After (29 page)

‘That’s something to look forward to for sure. Cheers, Jeremy.’ Barry hung up, feeling more optimistic than he had in a while. It was good to feel he was still a player . . . a minnow perhaps, compared to some, but a player nevertheless. Imagine being able to whack out three million smackers on shares, he thought enviously. These were the kind of people Aimee was working for now, the superwealthy, and they were in a different league entirely.

He wondered would her humour have improved any. He’d had the shock of his life when he’d come home from work the previous evening to find her in bed with the curtains drawn, fast asleep. Melissa had told him that she’d come home and gone straight to bed, saying she was exhausted.

It was just so unlike Aimee, and he was worried. He hadn’t wanted to disturb her, so he’d let her sleep, and had left some poached salmon and salad in the fridge for her when she woke up.

She’d come down to the kitchen around nine thirty and eaten a small amount of the meal. Melissa had gone to the pictures with Sarah, so his wife hadn’t felt the need to be particularly civil to him, and had answered his queries as to how she was feeling with a sarcastic ‘What would you care?’ before going back to bed. She was asleep when he went to bed around eleven thirty. As he lay in the dark listening to her deep, even breathing, he remembered how exhausted Connie had been in the early months of her pregnancy, with a tiredness that just overwhelmed her. Was he being thoroughly selfish insisting that Aimee go through with the pregnancy, he asked himself miserably as he twisted and turned beside her. She was so bitter towards him now, so antagonistic. Would they ever surmount this obstacle in their relationship? Their child would always be a reminder that he hadn’t respected Aimee’s wishes. Her taunt that he was just like Ken had hurt. He was far from being an authoritative, dictatorial bully. They would never have lasted all these years together if he had been but, clearly, in Aimee’s mind, he was now cut from the same cloth as her father, and there was no going back.

He wished he could ask Connie’s advice, but she was away in Spain and, besides, she’d made it quite clear she didn’t want to be involved. Aimee would hit the roof if he ever thought he discussed her with his ex-wife. He wondered had she discussed her pregnancy with the businessman who’d offered her the job. He couldn’t really ask what was going on because she’d just tell him to mind his own business, but he hoped mightily that the venture would go ahead. If she lost her chance at being the MD of her own company because of her pregnancy, she’d never forgive him for that either. Eventually, he’d fallen asleep, gaining some respite from his racing thoughts.

Aimee had left for work before he’d finished shaving, and they hadn’t spoken that morning so he had no idea if she was feeling better or not. Impulsively, he decided to ring her.

‘Yes?’ Her tone was pure frost.

‘I just wanted to see if you were OK,’ he said evenly. ‘I was worried about you.’

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she clipped.

‘Aimee, we’re going to have to talk some time,’ he retorted.

‘I’ve nothing to say to you,’ she snapped back, and hung up.

Stung, he placed the phone into the hands-free kit and drove back to the office, sorry he’d even bothered to call to see how she was. If that was her attitude, she could get lost, he fumed. He wouldn’t bother his ass to make the effort again. And she could get her own bloody dinner tonight, because he was going to eat in town and then go and have a round of golf and a couple of drinks at the golf club. He’d had enough of martyrdom.

‘That was a great day’s shopping,’ Juliet exclaimed, kicking off her shoes and wriggling her toes. She was surrounded by bags. ‘I know my luggage allowance is going to be well over the limit.’

Connie grinned as she leaned back on one of the cane loungers at the side of Juliet’s pool, and stretched luxuriously. ‘I’m baked.’ She blew her hair away from her face.

‘How about we change into our swimsuits, have a swim, then an ice-cold Pimm’s and a snooze, and then have a light supper? Incarna’s left a selection of tapas and a lovely tuna salad for us in the fridge,’ Juliet suggested.

‘That sounds heavenly.’ Karen smiled over at the older woman.

‘Or if you prefer we can meander over to the marina and eat in Da Bruno,’ said Juliet.

‘Incarna’s supper sounds lovely,’ Connie interjected. ‘Honestly, I couldn’t eat a big dinner. That lunch in Marbella was gorgeous. And, besides, my feet are killing me, I could just about meander into the pool. Thank you, Juliet, for such a lovely day.’

‘Oh no, girls! Thank
you
!’ Juliet exclaimed. ‘I haven’t had as much fun in such a long time. I feel
soooo
relaxed. Now let’s go and swim,’ she urged, ‘because it’s a hot, hot afternoon.’

Half an hour later, the trio lay on plump cushions, sipping the cold refreshing Pimm’s that Juliet had made for them. Their swim had cooled them down, and they were in a state of contented lethargy. The sun glistened silver on the pool, and the honeysuckle, mimosa and bougainvillea wafted their perfumed scents through the lush gardens that surrounded Juliet’s low, sprawling, whitewashed villa. High walls and gates ensured total privacy. They could hear the soothing, shushy sound of the sea lapping the shore at the end of the winding narrow road where the villa was built.

They had spent the morning in the big shopping centre, La Cañada, just on the edge of Marbella, and had then gone to lunch in Orange Square before taking a stroll along the Paseo. They’d indulged in more shopping and window-shopping in the chic designer stores that lined the sun-drenched streets in the once-exclusive and fashionable resort. No longer the domain of the elite, Marbella still exuded an air of flashy affluence and style. But, as they circled the roundabout to exit the town on their way home, the tackiness of the other side of the coin was there to see. An open-topped car in front of them stopped, in it two middle-aged, olive-skinned, seedy-looking men with their hair slicked back. The driver beckoned to a voluptuous young blonde posing on the side of the road. After a quick word, she’d quickly got into the back of the car.

‘God, it’s so blatant, isn’t it?’ observed Juliet.

‘I’d be petrified. Isn’t she worried going with those two men, two complete and utter strangers?’ Connie remarked, feeling utterly sorry for any girl who made her living from prostitution.

‘I wonder is that her pimp? He was talking to her before she got into the car.’ Karen pointed out a skinny, curly-haired man with designer shades who was speaking to an exotic-looking dark girl with fantastically braided hair. She handed him some money and palmed a small packet he exchanged with her. He was obviously dealing drugs, in broad daylight at the side of a busy roundabout, and didn’t seem at all concerned that he might be caught.

‘We don’t know the half of what goes on, we’re so cocooned in our own smug little worlds,’ Juliet said as she swung off the roundabout on to the motorway. ‘It’s a far different world our children and grandchildren are living in to what we were used to. I was just looking at my grandchildren on the night of my art exhibition, and they are so advanced for their age. I look at Melissa, and she’s dressed like an eighteen-year-old, and with all the jargon, and she’s only a child still. They have to grow up so quickly, don’t they? Their childhood is so short now. Those magazines have so much to answer for. And clothes designers. They sexualize kids.’

‘I know, it’s an awful shame,’ Connie agreed. ‘Because behind that totally with-it, cool façade, Melissa’s still a child at heart. There’s an innocence about her that hasn’t been compromised yet. Some of those teenagers are living the lives of twenty-five-year-olds. Kids having sex at twelve and thirteen is scary. I would have had a fit if I thought Debbie was having sex when she was in her teens.’

‘I mean, look at us. I was in my early twenties before I lost my virginity, and it was a big deal. Now, it’s nothing special,’ Karen remarked.

‘I was a virgin when I married Ken and, girls, I have to say, I’ve never had an orgasm with him – how sad is that?’ Juliet confessed.

‘That’s awful. That’s a bad buzz, as Melissa would say,’ Connie sympathized.

‘But, God, I should have got an Oscar for faking. He thinks he’s a stud. If only he knew. I’m lying there thinking,
Oh, get it over with, for heaven’s sake
, and he thinks he’s George Clooney.’ She chortled, and they all started to laugh, having all faked it at some stage in their lives.

‘Wouldn’t fancy George Clooney,’ Connie grinned. ‘He believes his own publicity. He seems completely shallow. All his girlfriends probably have to fake too, to protect his ego.’

‘Bet I wouldn’t have to fake with Harrison Ford,’ Karen said wistfully, as they whizzed past the high towerblock of the Don Carlos.

‘Me neither.’

‘Or me.’

Juliet smiled, remembering their conversation. They’d had a great laugh on the short journey back to the villa, and Juliet couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt so free.

The early evening sun was much less intense now, and she could hear Karen snoring on her lounger. She felt utterly peaceful. She had clicked so well with the two other women. She felt very comfortable in their company. They’d had a thoroughly enjoyable day, and she very much hoped that when she went back to Dublin they could continue to meet occasionally for a meal or an evening out.

Although he had phoned the landline several times, she had not spoken to Ken since she’d left Dublin. She felt insulated from him in Spain, and it was a very restful feeling. She wondered lazily how he was managing, but then he drifted from her thoughts and she fell into a doze, imagining Harrison Ford rescuing her from danger and her falling into his arms, kissing him with wanton abandon.

For the umpteenth time that day, Ken Davenport glanced at his watch on his way to the taxi rank at Malaga airport. It was just coming up to eight, Spanish time. They had been sitting on the tarmac for almost the guts of an hour before the plane had been given clearance to take off, and he was in a very bad mood indeed, despite the fact that the pilot had assured them, as they flew out over the sparkling Mediterranean to line up for landing, that they had made up some of the lost time with the help of tailwinds. His bad humour had not abated one bit when he was hit by a scorching blast of heat as he left the confines of the air-conditioned terminal building and saw the queue in front of him waiting for taxis. By God, he swore to himself as he waited impatiently in line, Juliet Davenport would feel the rough edge of his tongue before this day was out.

‘That was delicious, Juliet. Thank Incarna for us.’ Connie popped a last, luscious strawberry into her mouth and savoured its sweet, juicy taste.

‘The tuna was melt-in-the-mouth,’ Karen declared. ‘And that gorgeous salad with the pine nuts . . . they’re so flavoursome. Make the most of this, Connie. Got a text from Jenna – they’re having thunder and lightning at home.’

‘The poor suckers.’ Connie grinned. ‘Here, let me bring these in, Juliet.’ She gathered up the plates and went to carry them in.

‘Leave them, Connie. It won’t take me a minute to do them. Have another glass of wine.’ Juliet topped her up. ‘Karen, more Amé? Pity you’re driving.’

‘Just as well I’m driving – I’m turning into a lush. I haven’t drunk so much in years,’ Karen retorted.

‘Me, too, but I’ll go on the dry when I go home. Will you stay for the rest of the summer, Juliet?’ Connie took a sip of her wine and sat back, totally relaxed.

‘I haven’t decided. But it’s an enticing prospect. I’m only beginning to realize just how restricting and stressful it’s been living with Ken. I mean, I do
everything
on the home front. My life has been spent accommodating him. Here, I’m doing what I want, when I want, with no irate phone calls looking for this, that and the other.’

‘Would you ever consider living here?’ Connie inquired.

‘I’d certainly consider spending a lot more time here. It’s lovely in the autumn.’ Juliet nibbled on a piece of Turkish delight. ‘Wait until I tell Ken I’m going to be out here a lot more. He’ll go round nuts. I might wind him up and tell him I’ve been sunbathing on the nudist beach across the dunes. Cabopino has a noted nudist beach – you know?’ Juliet smirked, eyes bright from a combination of alcohol and good humour. The air of guarded reserve and tension that she often carried had dissipated completely, the stress lines in her face had softened and her natural joie de vivre, which had been buried for so long, was beginning to re-emerge.

‘We should go there one of the days and give them an eyeful,’ Connie suggested giddily. ‘We could get an all-over tan. No strap-marks!’

‘
Get
an eyeful, more like it.’ Karen made a face. ‘Aren’t men afraid their wobbly bits will get sunburnt?’

‘Ken wouldn’t have much to worry about in that area – you’d need a microscope to find them,’ Juliet said tipsily. ‘It’s so liberating releasing the inner bitch, I should have done it years ago.’

The others guffawed heartily, and Juliet joined in, feeling happy and carefree.

‘And what’s the joke? It’s nice to see you ladies enjoying yourselves.’ The subject of their hilarity strode on to the terrace, grim-faced as he stared at his wife.

‘Ken! Ah
no
, Ken! It’s not fair; I came away to get some peace and quiet. To think. Could you not have respected me that much and let me have what I needed for once in my life?’ Juliet stood up. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she demanded angrily. The colour had faded from her face. She gripped the wrought-iron back of her chair tightly for support.

‘Don’t take that tone with me, Juliet. It’s rude in front of your guests. We’ll discuss it inside,’ he said dismissively. ‘Hello, Karen and er . . . um . . . Carrie, isn’t it?’ He barely acknowledged them as he stood eyeballing Juliet.

‘It’s Connie,’ Connie responded coldly. He ignored her. She remembered the first time they’d been introduced. Barry had told his father-in-law that Connie was a nurse. Ken had looked her up and down, asked her a few perfunctory questions about where she worked, and couldn’t get away quick enough. A mere nurse was not worth more than a few minutes of his precious time. For the short while he’d been talking to her, his eyes had been scanning the room to find someone more worthy of his attention. On the few other occasions she’d encountered him, he’d merely nodded self-importantly at her, and she had made no effort to initiate conversation.