Somebody to Love: Sigh With Contentment, Scream With Frustration. At Time You Will Weep. (20 page)

‘All finished.’ Mark smiled, looking much more his gentle self. Donna was glad. She liked him that way. ‘You can go into the station and give a statement later, Donna.’ He looked at her, concern clouding his China blue eyes. ‘You will do it, though, won’t you?’

‘Bet your arse, I will.’ Donna notched up her chin.

‘Good girl.’ He nodded, obviously relieved.

Girl? Donna’s mouth twitched into a smile. Funny though, she felt like a girl in his company. Not a pathetic, dependent-on-a-man sort of girl. A pretty, floaty, strong, feminine in-the-best-possible-way sort of girl.

He made her feel okay to be her, amazingly. ‘Thank you,’ she said, so wishing things could have turned out differently between them.

‘Any time,’ he assured her. ‘I’m here to serve. If you need me, call. Okay?’

Donna nodded. He was just doing his job. Not riding his red and white charger to her rescue specifically, but still, she was grateful. He’d handled Jeremy magnificently. The bully got what he deserved, a taste of his own.

‘I will. Bye, Mark. And thanks, again.’ Donna smiled, and waved, which she felt would be slightly less formal than shaking hands.

‘Bye,’ he said, hesitated, then brushed her cheek with such a tingling soft kiss, Donna was quite sure she could charge her dodgy car battery on her own. Oh,
sh… ugar
! The AA man! What must he be thinking?

‘Mark,’ she said as he turned to go back inside, ‘about earlier…’

Mark turned back, looking confused.

‘The AA man,’ Donna elucidated.

‘Ah.’ Mark’s expression darkened.

‘He isn’t… We aren’t, um…’

‘He was chatting her up,’ Alicia interjected. ‘Men do, you know.’ She gave Mark an arch look and hooked her arm through Donna’s. ‘Come on, honey. Poor Simon will have been and gone if we don’t get a move on.’

Donna glanced at Alicia miffed as they headed for the VW. ‘I wish you hadn’t said that.’

‘What?’ Alicia looked at her, the picture of innocence. ‘A little jealousy never hurt.’

‘No, just like a little flattery never hurt.’ Donna gave her an unimpressed glance. ‘In any case, Mark’s involved with someone, remember? So there’s not a lot of point trying to make him jealous, is there?’

‘Yes,’ Alicia went around to the driver’s side, ‘which means you’re absolutely not interested in him.’

‘Exactly.’ Donna plodded around to the passenger side.

‘Right.’ Alicia smirked over the roof. ‘You can take your hand off your cheek now, Donna. His kiss won’t get washed off. It’s not raining.’

‘Ha, ha.’ Donna smiled flatly, opened her door, then groaned as Leticia appeared, scurrying across from where she’d been blending in with the trees.

‘Donna, can I have a word?’ she asked.

Wonderful
. Donna sighed. The last person in the whole world she wanted to speak to right then was Leticia.

‘Well, it will have to be a quick one, Leticia,’ she said. ‘We’re on our way to the hos… Oh.’ She trailed off, noticing Leticia’s face, which looked a bit blotchy.

‘There’s something I wanted to tell you,’ Leticia said worriedly.

Oh, Lord. If she was pregnant, Donna absolutely did not want to know.

‘And I know it won’t make things any better, considering what’s happened.’

Bet your Botox it won’t.

‘It’s just… I like you,’ Leticia said quickly.

‘Pardon?’

‘I like you, Donna. I think Jeremy’s behaved awfully towards you and I just wanted to let you know that… I suspect he might have lied.’

Suspect?
Well, good stock obviously didn’t breed brains, Donna thought cattily. Then felt guilty. Again.

‘He said you’d been separated for some time, you see,’ Leticia continued, wringing her hands together as she did, ‘before he and I…’

‘Gosh, there’s a surprise.’ Alicia rolled her eyes.

Leticia glanced at her self-consciously, then visibly steeled herself to go on. ‘He said he was staying in the matrimonial home on the advice of his solicitor, because you were trying to cheat him out of his half of the equity.’

Donna’s mouth clanged open.

‘Go on,’ Alicia said interestedly, while Donna gawped, speechless.

‘And then when he did leave,’ Leticia obliged, ‘without a penny…’

Donna almost choked. ‘
What
!? He damn well did not! My mother helped me buy him out, so his
son
could stay in his home. He had more than his flipping fair share of the equity. It’s a wonder he stopped short of sawing the furniture in half.’

God, this was unbelievable. Donna eyed the skies.

‘Um, how’s his accountancy business doing lately, Leticia?’ Alicia ventured.

‘Well, not too well, actually,’ Leticia admitted. ‘He’s working terribly hard, but with companies folding, his business property mortgage, and his son to support…’

‘Bullshit.’ Alicia said, before Donna went apoplectic.

‘Sorry?’ Leticia managed to furrow a whole brow line.

‘He might have a business mortgage, Leticia,’ Alicia glanced at Donna for confirmation, ‘but he pays Donna a pittance for the support of Matt.’

‘But he said —’

‘Codswallop,’ Alicia reiterated, ‘concocted to keep you on board, no doubt. If you ask me, it’s his lifestyle he’s looking to support. He’s after your money, honey, as sure as God made little green apples.

Is he?
Donna furrowed so many lines, her brow must have looked like a five-bar gate.

‘Where’s his car, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Alicia forged on.

‘In the garage, so he —’ Donna started.

‘He’s sold it,’ Leticia said over her.

Glances were exchanged three-fold.

Leticia swallowed daintily. ‘We were going to get him a new one for his birthday, you see and…’

‘
We
as in him, I wonder? Or
we
, as in you?’ Alicia fished.

Leticia sniffled. ‘Me. I was going to buy it,’ she said, miserably. ‘A little Lotus run-around, you know, for getting to and from the off…’

‘Oh, absolutely. They’re just
sooo
handy,’ Alicia cut in, with a girly flap of her hand. ‘Donna runs around in hers all the time, don’t you, hon?’

Donna wasn’t listening. She was busy putting two and two together and coming to the conclusion Alicia might be right. Jeremy hadn’t been working 24/7. He was never there. As far as Donna could see, he’d spent more time putting horses through paces than going to work, ergo more time in Leticia’s company and, more importantly to image-conscious Jeremy, the company she kept.

‘Who’s, um, paying for the wedding, Leticia?’ Donna asked casually, though she almost choked again on the ‘w’ word.

‘Well, Daddy, actually,’ Leticia answered, managing a whole baffled expression. ‘Jeremy wanted to pay, at least some towards it, but Daddy insisted.’

‘How convenient,’ Alicia muttered.

‘Leticia, just out of interest,’ Donna did her best to look only mildly interested, ‘where were you going to be living?’

‘On the family estate,’ Leticia looked at Donna as if it were a foregone conclusion. ‘Daddy said he’d have the gatehouse refurbished.’

‘In Jeremy’s honour,’ Alicia growled.

Good God, Alicia
was
right. Donna stared at her astonished. The slimy little weasel. Always fancied himself a man of leisure rubbing shoulders with the landed gentry. And how better to do that than to marry into money and move into the
gatehouse
, where he could no doubt entertain his future dalliances, behind Leticia’s back, in more ‘salubrious’ surroundings.

No wonder he always looked so dapper. He’d probably sold his accountancy business to refurbish his wardrobe. One couldn’t move in the right circles wearing
orf
the peg, after all, could one?

Donna dragged her eyes slowly from Alicia, who didn’t look at all surprised, to Leticia, who glanced down, her complexion quite pale.

Oh, dear. Donna’s sympathy gene kicked in, as Leticia studied the tarmac on the pub car-park for what seemed an awful long time. She was going to cry. Donna braced herself and stepped towards her. She couldn’t just do nothing. Even if the woman was the biggest bitch under the sun, which Donna was beginning to doubt, she couldn’t let her stand there and cry on her own.

Oh.

Donna glanced at Alicia confounded, as Leticia tugged up
her
shoulders. ‘I’m going to ask him to leave,’ she said determinedly.

Well, well, kudos to Leticia. Peculiar though it might be, Donna couldn’t help but have a growing admiration for the woman.

Chapter Thirteen

By the time Donna had walked around the park with Agnes, the little old lady she’d befriended after the lost ball in the pond incident, things were still as clear as mud, but she did feel more in control.

Mark had been off duty when she’d gone to the station, which was disappointing — Donna would have been bolstered by one of his reassuring smiles, but he’d asked his partner to be there for her, to take her statement and offer her information on taking out a non-molestation order. Donna had to think about that, for Matt’s sake. But then, Jeremy had threatened violence. His behaviour, past and present, was certainly intimidating. And the fact was, Matt, Donna believed, was also getting the measure of the man.

She’d left Simon at the hospital looking pale, but determined the show would go on vis-à-vis his fancy-dress party, particularly as it was now a double celebration of his betrothal to Nathan, as well as his birthday.

Donna had a little worry about that. Simon, quite taken, it seemed, by the twinkly-eyed boy-in-blue who’d helped him at the pub, now fancied going dressed as a policeman.

Oh, dear, Donna really was going to have to learn to engage her brain before opening her mouth. Maybe Mark wouldn’t mind Simon borrowing his spare jacket though, if she asked him. Donna pondered as she slowed her pace to keep in step with Agnes.

As for Leticia, Donna had felt obliged to offer her a shoulder, though she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted Leticia to take up the offer.

‘Well, I’m not sure I could love my husband’s lover,’ Agnes commented, as she fished in her eco-friendly bag for a dog-treat.

‘I’m not proposing to go so far as to love her, just lend her an ear,’ Donna assured her, then winced as Agnes’s totter turned to a near sprint to facilitate her scooping up yet another ball straying in her direction.

‘Whoa, that’s our Max’s ball,’ a puzzled dog-owner shouted, running over to her.

‘It’s for a good cause,’ Agnes informed him, plopping the ball into her bag and nodding at Sadie, who was bounding tri-leggedly across the grass in pursuit of the last ball Agnes had purloined.

The owner propped his hands on his hips. ‘I don’t care what cause it’s for,’ he said, distinctly peeved. ‘Give it back.’

‘Shan’t,’ said Agnes, clutching her bag close to her chest. ‘It’s not your ball.’

‘You what?’ The man looked at her askance.

‘It’s your
Max’s
.’ Agnes pointed at his dog. ‘Have you asked
him
whether he wants me to have it?’

The man frowned, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

‘Max said he doesn’t mind sharing his balls,’ Agnes informed him, with a pious nod. ‘You shouldn’t presume to make decisions for others, young man.’

‘And you shouldn’t be out in public, my luv.’ The man shook his head as Agnes turned to trot back towards Donna. ‘Raving mad,’ he muttered, looking bemusedly back to his poor ball-less dog.

At which, Agnes turned back, her peachy cheeks puffed up with indignation. ‘It’s people like you who are responsible for the downturn in the economic climate!’ she said, wagging a finger. ‘Greedy! The lot of you! You should learn a lesson from your dog.’ She eyeballed him meaningfully, then tottered huffily on.

‘What a selfish man,’ Agnes said, coming back to Donna. ‘The world could certainly do with
less
people like him.

‘Yes, Agnes, but it is his… dog’s ball.’

‘But the dog didn’t mind, dear,’ Agnes said, as she tottered on. ‘Now, the little autistic boy, that was different. It was the little boy who needed the ball, his dog said. Do you see?’

‘Ye-es.’ Donna had a little think, then scooted after her, clueless.

****

Mark slowed his run to a walk, and then stopped in his tracks, his heart pumping pure adrenaline. Hardly daring to breathe, he watched Karl run on, the ball in his hand and Starbuck bounding along by his side.

‘Stop and sit, Starbuck,’ Karl commanded.

Quietly, Mark watched on, mesmerised, as the dog obediently plonked its hindquarters down.

Karl studied the dog for a second, his hair plastered to his head, his chest heaving, that familiar furrow in his brow that had Mark constantly wondering what he was thinking. What went on in a six-year-old mind where abstract ideas made no sense? Where interaction was impossible, Karl lacking the basic tools to interpret thought and feeling?

Mark swallowed, and waited.

Karl threw it.

Mark still couldn’t believe it. Just as he’d done three times before, Karl threw the ball.

‘Fetch Starbuck,’ Karl said, immediately setting off at a run with the dog, giggling quietly to himself as he went.

Laughing?! His boy was laughing. ‘
Yesss
!’ Mark whooped, punching the air.
Jesus!
His son was playing with the dog. He’d thrown that ball
knowing
what Starbuck’s reaction would be. What’s more, he was doing it spontaneously. It was an absolute bloody miracle.

Okay – Mark tried to ground himself a little, Karl might have copied him initially, and, okay, it was repetitive behaviour to a degree. But the kid was as close to playing normally as Mark could ever hope him to be, and
that
justified an amount of loopy leaping about in Mark’s book.

He turned to Jody as she walked towards him, Karl’s coat in one hand, bag containing essential dog and boy treats in the other. ‘Did you see that? Did you see him?’ he asked, breaking into a run to catch a hold of Jody’s shoulders and twirl her around.

Jody laughed as Mark hugged her, planting a kiss on her cheek, and acting like a great big kid himself. ‘Yes, Mark, I saw him,’ she assured him, when he eventually allowed her space to breath. ‘I didn’t dare look away in case you didn’t believe it without witness corroboration. Could I have my arms back now, please?’