Lipstick and Lies (50 page)

‘I’ve been going out of my mind all week with worry
.
And I’ve
tried calling him myself
.
S
everal times.
But despite all my messages – voicemails and texts – I’ve heard
absolutely nothing from him.’

‘Well I had a text from Stevie’s phone just five minutes ago
. The message was to
get off his back.
Why he couldn’t phone
to say that
is a mystery.
It’s out of character.
So in all honesty
,
I think his
absence
should
now
be reported to the police.’
There was a silence at the other end of the phone.
‘Hello?
Charlotte
,
are you still there?’
And then I heard a gulping noise and realised
Charlotte
was
sobbing
.
‘
Charlotte
,
please don’t cry.’

‘Sorry Cass,’ she hiccupped
.
‘I’m just so concer
ned.’

‘Try not to be.
Stevie’s
a
pretty solid chap
.
I’m sure he could
pack a punch if needed
.’

‘So when are you going to phone the police?
Now?’

‘Ah.’
I raked a hand through my hair.
‘
Actually,
I think it would be better if you phoned the police.
After all, I’ve been hearing from Stevie by text.
Whereas
you’ve heard squat diddly
.
You can truthfully tell the police you’ve had no communication whatsoever
.
T
hat you know for a fact
Stevie did not inform
work of his absence,
nor
taken
a change of
cloth
es from his house – not
even
a
toothbrush.
I think the police are more likely to get a move on with things if they hear from you.
Whereas if I speak to them and say I’ve been having texts, I’m pretty sure they
would
delay things.
Especially if they saw
the contents of
Stevie’s last message.’

‘Y-yes,’
Charlotte
wept
.
‘I-I’ll do it now.
Thanks Cass.
I-I’
ll let you know how I get on.’

We said good-bye
to each other
and hung up.
For a while I stared
pensively
at my mobile.
Where the heck was my ex-husband?
I chucked the phone back into my holdall.
In his playpen,
Eddie had pulled himself upright and was making mum-mum-mum noises.
Meanwhile
I needed to do some
vacuuming.

‘Come on little man.
’
I
bent over the playpen’s rails and
scooped
up
my baby boy
.
‘Let’s go and see if one of your sisters will keep an eye on you while I push the
vacuum cleaner
around.’
Eddie responded by reaching up and grabbing a fistful of
my
hair.
He tugged hard
.
I winced with pain.
‘No darling – argh! – let go.’
My son squealed with laughter.
Six months old and already displaying sadistic tendencies.
After a bit of tussle, I disentangled chubby
fists
from my
tresses
and
hastened
up the stairs to Livvy’s
bed
room.
I knocked on her door.
On the other side,
a great deal of chuntering
was
going on.
I pushed the handle down.
My dau
ghter was on her mobile phone.

‘I knew this would happen,’ Livvy huffed
.
‘
Do you think?
Ah,
my bad.
Really?
I told Lucy there would be beef.
What a beg.
Yeah.
Peak times.
You’re kidding?
Oh that’s reem.’

I hadn’t the faintest idea what language my daughter was talking.
It made no sense whatsoever.

‘Can you look after Eddie?’ I m
outhed.

‘Hang on a minute Emma.
’
Livvy moved the mobile away from
her
ear.
‘You won’t be long will you Mum,
only I have homework to do.
Just as soon as I’ve finished talking to Emma,’ she
winked
.

‘I will
ensure the
vacuum cleaner
goes
flat out
,’ I grinned, ‘and
will screech around
all corners and s
kirting boards on two wheels.’

‘Okay.’
She held her
arms
out and took Eddie from me.

I
was half-way down the stairs when
I stopped dead in my tracks.
And sniffed.
That smell again.
The
same
whiff
as
this morning
– when
the boys had climbed into the car.
A smoky smell.
Like – I stiffened – cigarettes.
I spun
a
round and re-traced my steps
,
sniffing
the air
like Rocket on a trail.
Outside Jonas’s bedroom
,
my nostrils went into overdrive.
Yeuch
.
Definitely ciggies
.
I flattened
one ear
against Jonas’s door.
Low voices.
Every now and again Diane Cooper’s name
was
mentioned
,
followed by sniggering.
I
rapped on the wooden panels
.
There was
a
sudden frenzy of
activity from within.

‘Hang on a minute,’ Jonas
bellowed
.

More noises.
Darting footsteps
.
T
he squish-squish of a canister spraying
th
e room.

‘Can I come in?’ I asked
.
And didn’t bother waiting for a
reply.

Toby
was
playing
nonchalantly
with some alien goo
.
He
thr
ew the gelatinous gunk repeatedly
up in the air
before
catching it.
Jonas had prostrated himself across a bean bag
near
the sash window.
Which
just happened to be
open.
Both boys were chewing gum, jaws rotating noisily.
I
narrowed
my eyes.
An open window
– in
January?

‘What are you
both
up to?’
It came out as an accusation
.

‘Nuthin’,’ drawled Jonas
.
‘
T
ake it easy man.’

Man?
Easy
man?
More teen speak.
Toby continued
playing catch with
the alien goo
.
He caught it
deftly in the palm of one hand.
Then up, up it went.
Higher and higher.
A change of tactic was required.

I
cleared my throat.
We could all do the silly teen talk thing.
‘I’m cool,’ I shrugged.
‘So cool
in fact that
I’m chilled.
R
eal
laid back and easy.
Peasy.
So,’ I strolled into the room, ‘howzit goin’?
Wassup an’ stuff?’

Jonas’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
There was a stunned pause.

‘Kay,’ he replied eventually.

Kay?
Who was Kay?
I looked suspiciously around
the room
for
a
female
of the same name
.

‘We’re both ’kay.’

Ah.
O
-
k
ay.
More silly teen speak.

‘Thass good buddy.
So you’r
e all cool an’ chilly willy too?
’

Jonas and Toby
glanced fleetingly at each other before
swivelling their eyes back
to me
.
I strolled across to the window.
Sniffed deeply.

‘What’s with the little ol’ pongo then dudey?’

Jonas produced a
canister and waggled it about.
It was a
body spray for men
.

‘Just road testin’ my new stuff.’

Again
I sniffed deeply.
‘That’s a hip hop smelly you got
a-
roarin’ there.
Sorta limey lime with
smok
y
undertones.’

My mouth seemed to have slipped into spaghetti western lingo
.
And
now
my legs were
swaggering up and down the
bed
room
.
Even my
thumbs
were doing strange things, currently wedged in
imaginary
twin gun holsters
.
Clearly I’d turned into a cowboy
.
Any second now
I’d
lasso
Toby’s alien goo and holler
yee-ha.

‘S’cool,’ shrugged Jonas.

I stared at him.
He looked cocky. Insolent
.
H
e blew a gum bubble. My blood began to boil.
Where were the fags?
At that moment Toby’s constant throw-and-catch with the alien goo backfired.
The
sticky
blob flew up in the air and hit the ceiling
.
I
t stuck fast.
It was, regrettably, a gesture which tipped the balance of my mood.

‘For God’s sake Toby, look what you’ve done to the ceiling,’ I shouted.

Annoyed,
I grabbed Jonas’s computer
chair
.
Wobbling
precariously,
I
clambered up. The chair creaked ominously as I plucked the alien goo from the ceiling.
A bright green patch remained on
the
otherwise spotless paint.

‘Look at that!’ I snapped.

‘
Oh man, k
eep yer hair on.’

Toby’s attempt to par
ody
Jonas sent me rocketing into orbit.

‘Keep my–?
Watch!’ I bellowed furiously.
‘Watch carefully now!’

I jumped off the chair and
,
with all
the
force of a javelin thrower
, hurled the alien goo
through the open sash window.
The blob sailed through the air, straight into next door’s garden
.
A
nd hit our neighbour – who just happened to be inspecting his winter patio pots – slap on the forehead.

‘Shit!’ I squeaked in horror
,
and ducked
behind the curtain.
‘Right you pair of Herberts.
Give them to me.
’

‘Give you what?’
asked
T
oby, eyes as round as saucers.

‘Don’t come the innocent with me.
I want your cigarettes.’

‘I didn’t know you smoked
Cass,’ Jonas said flippantly.

‘I don’t!’ I howled.
‘And I’m not having you two puffing on cancer sticks either.
Now
hand them over
this minute
,
or I’ll tell Jamie and the pair of you will be in the biggest
trouble
you’ve ever–’