The Shoplifting Mothers' Club (15 page)

‘I just got a call from Rita. Hailey was arrested sniffing about the jewellery factory. She’s gone down to try and sort it out.’

‘Really?’ Technically, she got arrested for pinching from the shop next door, but Jessica couldn’t say that, could she? ‘Come in for a tea?’ she asked, instead.

Eagerly, Frieda turned the pushchair and walked briskly up the path.

Once inside, Jessica tried tidying as she led the way to the kitchen, kicking discarded jumpers and trikes and dolls prams out of the way. The kitchen table was resplendent with dishes from the last two meals, and Jessica gave up the pretence.

‘I am so sorry. We are grots.’

‘Don’t worry, if I didn’t have my daily cleaner, I don’t know what I’d do.’

‘Do you look after Karl for Rita often?’ Rita was usually Karl-less, so Jessica wondered what she did with the toddler during the day.

‘No, they have an au pair. But she has gone back to Poland for a couple of days. So, what do you think about Hailey?’

‘I don’t know. I suppose I think this might be an omen.’

Frieda took a bowl of soggy cornflakes off the nearest chair and sat down. ‘Omen? You mean that we shouldn’t try for the diamonds?’

Jessica felt sorry for them, and thankful that she had been caught over the relatively small crime of the leather jackets. If she hadn’t, she might be in for a lengthy prison sentence. Little Karl came up and asked for an ‘norange’ drink. He was a cutie: fluffy blond hair and enormous blue eyes that reminded Jessica of a dog they’d had when they were young. It was difficult to imagine that the child and Rita were related.

As she poured the drink, she tried once more to put Frieda off the idea. ‘But is the money worth going to jail for? This isn’t a pair of trousers at Topshop, you know. This is serious. And Hailey is in jail as we speak.’

‘Hailey wasn’t planning to steal today, so they should let her go pretty soon. Anyway, there’s minimal security at that factory, apparently. We’ve Google-Earthed it. Chelsea looked it up online. They usually make silver-plated stuff with cubic zirconias.’

Frieda found a teapot, cleaned it out, and made the brew. Carrying the tea things over, she made Jessica sit down. ‘Stop hovering and tell me, how are things between you and Ronald?’

‘Just distracted. Absorbed with himself, with his work.’ It wasn’t so unusual, ever since they’d had the kids, he’d been like that.

A fission of shock raced through Jessica at the thought of being in such a predicament. An affair? Why would someone cheat on a warm, loving person such as Frieda?

‘He said he wanted to work things out. We went to counselling. It’s better now.’

Could Ronald possibly be having an affair? Was that why he was acting so horribly? No, of course not. He barely had energy for sex with her, let alone another woman. ‘I think mine is just a workaholic. Always at work. Loves it.’

‘That wouldn’t help, he could be in court. Can’t have your phone on in there. Besides, Ronald isn’t that type. He’s not even that interested in sex.’

Throwing her a querying look, Frieda rose and went to gather up Karl. ‘If you say so. I’d better get back, it’ll be time to pick up the girls from school soon. See you at Chelsea’s tomorrow morning for a status meeting.’

‘Yes, sure, sounds good.’

INITIALLY, JESSICA TRIED NOT to give thought to Frieda’s suggestion of an affair, but finally, she gave into the suspicion late in the afternoon and rang the office to ask for Ronald.

‘I told you, late. I’ve got a dinner meeting.’ His tone didn’t softened. ‘But we’ll talk when I get home, okay? I should be back by eleven.’

He knows I can’t stay awake past ten.
‘Fine.’

She hung up.

There was no affair. There was just no tenderness.

Ms Scott, the headmistress from Rachel’s school, was waiting when Jessica dropped the kids off the next morning. She had her meeting with the BIBs so the last thing she wanted to do was rehash the events of a few weeks ago with the principal. Ms Scott and Ronald remained convinced that Rachel needed to continue the one to one counselling, and were tag-team lobbying her to make Rachel go.

‘How is the counselling going?’ Ms Scott asked.

‘We tried it, but she didn’t seem responsive.’ In fact, Rachel had cried for five hours straight after the latest in a long line of kindly ladies at a local counselling centre had tried to get to the bottom of the ‘fall’ from the school roof. Jessica didn’t have the heart to make the little girl go back, especially when Rachel had literally got on her knees and begged.

Ronald’s response was that she was spoilt and needed to understand that sometimes, if you didn’t get what you want, the world wouldn’t end. ‘The counsellor can help her see that.’

‘Well, I’m afraid the school must once again insist, Mrs Maroni.’ Ms Scott was saying. ‘Rachel still seems withdrawn. We don’t have the resources to police her every move.’

Jessica finally lost it. Ditching the usual polite reserve she held for those in authority, she gave the sullen headmistress what for. ‘Rachel is being bullied by her classmates. That’s what is causing the problems, Ms Scott. When the school sorts that out, perhaps Rachel will seem a little less withdrawn.’

‘Are you alleging that . . . well, that all of this is our fault?’

‘Yes, I am. You organise school trips knowing full well some children will be left out. You don’t monitor the behaviour of other children, leaving those who are subject to their taunts to deal with it the only way a child can, by becoming withdrawn. You pander to the parents of the bullies, because they have money and can buy things for the school. And finally, when the problem you created is blown out of proportion, you seek to lay blame anywhere but where it should be laid. On the school.’

‘How dare you, Mrs Maroni, we have only ever given your family support and– ‘

‘With respect, that is your job, Ms Scott. You are paid by the government to do it, it is seemingly recession proof employment, and there are many who cannot find jobs at all. So may I suggest that if the school feels that Rachel is not coping, you address the reasons I have given, and then, and only then, if that doesn’t work, come back and see me. And if you can’t, perhaps whoever it is that deals with teacher placement can find the school someone who can.’

Jessica made to go, then had a final thought. ‘And by the way, if you don’t address the bullies, I will ask my husband to take action against the school for Rachel’s injuries as a result of the bullying. You had a duty of care, and you breached it.’

The headmistress’s eyes were bulging with the shock of the allegations. ‘You can’t possibly prove that in a court?’

‘Let me talk to my husband about that and see.’ And then Jessica turned and stormed away, feeling, for the first time in a very long time, as if she was in control of her life.

For five minutes, at least.

The fact that Hailey had been nabbed pinching trousers and not casing the diamond factory buoyed the spirits of the BIBs. They sat around Chelsea’s huge granite island in the massive kitchen, perched on some brand new, oddly shaped stools that probably cost more than Ronald’s yearly salary.

‘They let me off with a warning,’ Hailey said. ‘My solicitor was surprised. I even got to keep the trousers.’

Hmm. Jessica wondered why Gerry hadn’t tried to turn the BIB. In fact, she was trying to think of anything but that conversation with Ms Scott. There was no way Ronald would sue the school. No way at all. And he would go berserk if the headmistress called him to complain about Jessica.

‘He was dishy, the cop who interviewed me. I suggested I quick bonk in lieu of my crimes, and then he let me go. I suppose it was a good thing – my lip was sore from showing the arresting officer how to give a blow job on his truncheon.’ Noticing the bewildered faces around her, Hailey explained. ‘The car came to a halt, and me and the truncheon got slammed against the rear door.’

Changing the subject by outlining her recent spoils, Rita stated that she was that month’s clear winner. ‘Four grands’ worth. Can’t say the same for you,’ she scowled at Jessica. ‘A couple of jackets and that’s it? Paid off all your debts, then?’

‘No. My father died, remember?’

‘Did he?’ Rita looked over at Chelsea for confirmation. The blonde with the trowelled on makeup nodded. ‘I
did
say, Rita.’

The maid came in and Chelsea instructed her to make another round of lattes. They all waited until the steaming beverages were prepared and served, and then Chelsea shooed the poor woman from the kitchen again.

‘It’s a no brainer,’ she told the group, the moment the door was closed. ‘Someone in the know has given us that million pounds – he’s not going to risk it, is he? And he says the place is virtually unguarded.’

Jessica sipped the coffee and tried not to react. If only they knew.

‘So, the diamonds arrive tomorrow night, according to the email.’ Chelsea had a copy of the request in front of her. She was nothing if not efficient.

‘Shall we still wear black?’ Hailey clapped. ‘I’ve got a new jumpsuit I am dying to give an airing. Very Charlies Angels.’

Was she still on about what to wear?
These women were seriously demented. Jessica wondered how she could have ever become involved with them.

The Visa, remember?

Chelsea threw her teaspoon at Jessica. ‘If you don’t want in, forget it.’

‘I do,’ Hailey said.

‘I told you, I have plans for that money already.’ Rita acknowledged her agreement by adding a swig of something that smelled revolting from a small hip flask and holding it up to the others in a mock ‘cheers’.

‘Me too,’ said Frieda. ‘If I can raise the money, my husband has agreed to buy a little cabin somewhere peaceful in Norway.’

‘How very boring that sounds.’ Chelsea looked over at Jessica. ‘And . . .’

‘In, of course. How else am I going to pay my Visa bill?’ The depressing fact that she and Ronald were on course to have another huge bust-up over the credit card account made her feel sick. She’d never pay the stupid thing off, now.