To the Moon and Back (23 page)

The irony of the situation didn't escape Roo. Here she was, lying in a reclining chair allowing her ex-lover's wife to inflict pain on her.

Pain is good.

She wouldn't even mind more pain than this, but Yasmin was a pro. Swiftly, skillfully, she manipulated the twirled-together threads, whisking out tiny hairs and leaving perfectly sculpted eyebrows in their place. Well, hopefully she was. Roo imagined sitting up at the end, gazing into the mirror, and discovering that one eyebrow was arched and the other one flat. Or missing altogether.

‘So,' Yasmin said cheerfully, ‘how's everything been going with you?'

‘Not so bad.' Between the razor-sharp
ting ting ting
s as each hair was tweaked out, Roo updated her with the latest goings-on in the shop. Yesterday a man had donated a portrait in oils of the ugliest woman any of them had ever seen. This morning he had returned explaining that it was a painting of his late wife and he'd missed her too much, could he please have it back? His relief when he learned that it hadn't been snapped up had touched the hearts of everyone in the shop. When they'd handed over the hideous portrait, he'd wept tears of joy.

‘How about you?' Roo changed the subject.

‘Me? Oh, I'm getting a divorce.'

‘
What?
' Roo's eyes had been closed. Now they snapped open. ‘You mean, you and your… husband?'

‘That's generally how it works.'

‘But… why?' Was she sounding too shocked? Oh God, this was awful. But she had to ask.

‘Nothing very original, I'm afraid. Same old story. I found out he's been having an affair.' Yasmin stopped threading, raised the back of the recliner slightly, and handed Roo a mirror. ‘Here you are. Have a look and see what you think.'

Roo gazed at her reflection and saw a selfish, marriage-wrecking harlot with stunning eyebrows.

‘Is that about right,' said Yasmin, ‘or do you want them narrower?'

‘This is fine.' It was hard to look at herself. Roo put the mirror down.

‘OK, the skin's a bit red. I'm going to put some aloe vera gel on there to cool it down. You just lie back and relax.'

When the gel had been applied, Roo said, ‘Who was it?'

‘Who was what?'

‘The other woman.'

‘Oh, they used to work together. She's a sales rep with another company now.'

‘That's awful.' What would be
really
awful was if she were to accidentally mention Vivica's name. Roo clamped her mouth shut so it couldn't slip out.

‘It is awful, but I'm doing OK. Oh, bless you for looking so upset.' Yasmin gave her shoulder a grateful squeeze. ‘You've come here to be pampered, you don't have to put up with me bleating on about my marriage.'

‘You aren't bleating.'

‘If I get tedious, just tell me to change the subject.'

Roo needed to know. ‘So what happened? How did you find out?'

‘Total cliché. Came home unexpectedly and caught them at it.'

Oh God, that could have been me
. It couldn't have, because she'd never visited their house, but Roo covered her mouth in horror anyway. Swallowing with difficulty, she said, ‘Then what?'

‘Actually, I was quite proud of myself.' Yasmin's cheeks dimpled. ‘I threw a can of super strength hair spray at him. I'm usually rubbish at throwing, my friends say I throw darts like harpoons. But I got him on the forehead. It was one of those brilliant moments when you wish there'd been someone there to video it. I'd love to have put it on YouTube.'

She appeared to be taking it incredibly well. Far better than Roo, whose heart was going twenty-six to the dozen.

‘So you've kicked him out of the house?'

‘No, I didn't want to stay there. Me and Ben are back at my mum's.' Yasmin's dimples deepened again. ‘It's lovely.'

‘You don't seem that upset.'

‘Truthfully? I'm not. Being married to Niall was like being a single mother anyway. He never made any effort. He's selfish. I ended up doing everything. I'll let you into a secret.' Yasmin lowered her voice as another client headed past on her way to the tanning room. ‘I'm pretty sure this one wasn't the first. I think he's had other affairs.'

For a terrifying second, Roo felt the backs of her eyes prickle with tears.
Stop it, stop it, don't you dare do that…
mentally she ordered the tears to sink back in.

‘You do?'

‘Oh yes. Anyway, never mind. I've only myself to blame. Niall was never what you'd call good husband material. I kidded myself we'd be OK.' Absently Yasmin smoothed more aloe vera gel on to Roo's eyebrows. ‘My friends tried to warn me, but I wouldn't listen. It's funny, isn't it? I was so sure I could change him. I thought loving him would be enough. But it wasn't. And he didn't want to change. Why would he, when he could carry on having his cake and eating it and helping himself to chocolate biscuits too?'

Roo swallowed. She'd been one of the chocolate biscuits.

‘So… is he still seeing this girl?' she ventured. ‘The ex-work colleague?'

‘No idea. He says not. But that's the thing with Niall; he says lots of things. I just don't listen anymore. There, the redness is fading. Do you want to sit up?'

Roo did as she was told. Was Yasmin putting on a brave front or was she genuinely taking the breakup in her stride?

‘Can I ask you something?' said Yasmin.

The ground tilted.
Oh God, what now?

‘Go on.'

‘The first time you came here, you had a ton of makeup on. But since then, you haven't worn any at all. It's not a criticism,' Yasmin said hastily. ‘You're still really pretty. I just wondered why you'd stopped, that's all.'

At last, she could be honest.

‘I wanted a change. To be a different person.' Roo stood up, followed her across to the pay desk, and took out her purse. ‘I didn't like what I'd become. And makeup was my armor. I used to spend a fortune on eye shadows and mascaras… it was crazy. So I decided to give them all up and go back to being just me.'

‘Wow, good for you. Gosh, thanks.' Yasmin's eyes widened as Roo handed her the money for the threading plus a twenty pound tip. ‘Are you sure?'

It was guilt money, pure and simple. But it made her feel better; it was one of her prime reasons for coming here. And she had a lot more giving to do yet.

‘Absolutely,' said Roo.

***

Zack was in Monte Carlo. Ellie had just received a text from him: ‘Helicopter fantastic. The only way to travel. Thanks for thinking of it. All OK at the office? Z.'

Smiling to herself, she pictured him in the helicopter, circling Monte Carlo, as excited as a small boy as he picked out the multimillion-pound yachts bobbing in the glittering aquamarine water of the harbor.

Ellie texted back: ‘Have sold your company and run off to Barbados with the proceeds. Byeeeee…'

She pressed Send, then began a second text: ‘OK, maybe I haven't. Knew you'd love helicopter. No need for thanks, I am your brilliant PA. All fine this end. Have fun!'

As she was sending it, the post clattered through the letter box out in the hall. Ellie went to pick it up. Anything business, she opened and dealt with if necessary. Anything that looked personal, she left for Zack. But among today's delivery was a postcard. On the front was a picture of boxing kangaroos. The lady kangaroo, complete with lipstick and pinny, was raising her front legs in victory. The man kangaroo, clutching a can of beer and a bush hat, lay flat on his back.

On the back of the card was a scrawled message:

Hi Zack, I'm coming home! Lost my phone, so don't have your number. Call me at Mum's any time after the 29th August. Missed you so much and can't wait to see you again.

All love, Meg xxxxx

Meg. The mix of emotions she was becoming all too familiar with reappeared. Zack had mentioned Meg once or twice when they'd talked about past relationships. He'd been busy building up his business, Meg had worked as a journalist on a glossy magazine and their affair had ebbed and flowed over the course of several months, until Meg had been persuaded by a girlfriend to take off on a round-the-world trip. And that was it, she had gone.

When Zack had told her, Ellie had said, ‘Did you miss her terribly?'

And he replied, ‘Yes, I kind of did.'

‘What would have happened if she'd stayed here?'

Zack had shrugged. ‘Who knows.'

Ellie gazed at the postcard and wondered what might happen now that his former girlfriend was on her way back. What was she like? Had she changed while she'd been away? Did she deserve him?

Would Zack say casually, ‘Oh, by the way, you don't need to give up your weekend to come down with me to my sister's wedding. I'll be taking Meg now instead.'

Just imagining him saying those words made Ellie want to stick her fingers in her ears and go, ‘La-la-la-can't-hear-you!' whilst inside she felt sick with disappointment because, Joe or no Joe, the trip down to Cornwall with Zack was something she'd been looking forward to more than she would admit to a living soul.

Or Jamie.

Rrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnngggggg.

Glad of the diversion, Ellie lobbed the postcard at Zack's in-tray. It helicoptered through the air, skidded across the envelopes already sitting there, and slid down the back of the radiator.

Was that
meant
to happen? The temptation to leave it there, to pretend she hadn't seen it disappear out of sight, was huge. What if this was fate's way of letting her know that Zack and Meg shouldn't get back together?

OK, front door first. Opening it, Ellie came face to face with a dumpy woman in her late fifties, with pale eyes and bushy caterpillar eyebrows. She was wearing a peach crimplene blouse and a turquoise pleated skirt, and it was probably safe to assume this wasn't another of Zack's former girlfriends.

At least, she hoped not.

‘Hello, dear, is Zack at home?'

‘Sorry, he's away. Maybe I can help you.'

‘Oh, I do hope so! I'm Christine, dear. I used to be Zack's PA.'

Ellie had heard all about her. Nicknamed Crimplene Christine by Zack, her skirts invariably reacted with the nylon in her tights and petticoat, creating a build-up of static charge each time she moved. Shaking hands with her, Zack had gravely explained, was a positive health hazard. Poor Elmo had been too terrified to venture into the office.

‘Come along inside. I'm Ellie. It's lovely to meet you,' said Ellie. At least, it was lovely so long as she wasn't here to ask for her old job back.

‘Ah, there it is. You still have it, thank heavens for that!'

Christine was pointing to the largest of the plants on the window ledge, some temperamental creature with bright orangey-pink flowers and glossy heart-shaped leaves that was always threatening to keel over and die.

‘This one?' Ellie moved towards it. ‘It's yours?'

‘Not the plant. The pot it's in. My bossy sister gave it to me for Christmas,' Christine explained. ‘You have no idea what she's like. Anyway, she's coming to London tomorrow to stay for a couple of days. Before she got off the phone this morning she said, “And I hope you're using that lovely plant pot I gave you; it had better not be hidden away in the back of a cupboard.” Well, I'm telling you, my poor heart nearly jumped out of my throat.' She flapped her sausage fingers in dismay. ‘For a couple of seconds I couldn't remember for the life of me what I'd done with the thing. Then it came back to me. I'd left it here. Now look, I know it's a bit of a cheek, but do you think Zack would mind awfully if I took it home?'

Ellie managed to reassure Christine that Zack wouldn't mind a bit. Relieved, Christine asked chattily how she was enjoying working for him. Then she started asking how Zack was, and if he was still seeing Louisa. The next thing Ellie knew, Christine had made them both a cup of tea and settled herself down for a nice chat.

Oh well, she wasn't rushed off her feet. She could spare ten minutes.

Christine was gratifyingly pleased to hear that the relationship with Louisa was now over. Leaning forward in her chair, she confided, ‘Always felt as if she was looking down her nose at me. I brought in some homemade shortbread one day and offered her a piece. My goodness, you'd have thought I was offering her live newts!'

Ellie warmed to her. ‘She was a bit iffy with me as well. Accused me of chasing after Zack.'

Christine's pale eyes twinkled. ‘And were you?'

‘No!'

‘I wouldn't blame you, mind. He's definitely got it, hasn't he? If I were twenty-five years younger I'd have made a play for him myself !'

Oo-er, missus. Maybe it hadn't just been the crimplene causing those sparks to fly.

‘And how are things with you?' Ellie changed the subject, struck by how cheerful Christine seemed. ‘Zack told me about your husband not being very well. It must be so much easier for you, not having to work full-time anymore.'

‘Well, actually, I am working.' There was an audible crackle of static as Christine shifted in her chair and rested the saucer in her lap. ‘It was all quite fortuitous really. You see, the day care place couldn't cope with Eric anymore. Now, I love my poor hubby to bits, but the two of us being at home together was too much. I don't mind telling you, it's a lonely old business. Anyway, my doctor suggested considering some respite care and I did a bit of research. We ended up going to look at a nursing home not far from us, then while we were there I happened to see a notice up on the board saying they were looking for part-time staff. Well, I spoke to the lady who runs the place and we reached an agreement. I'm working there three days a week and Eric comes along with me. And once or twice a week he stays overnight so I can go home and have an evening out, or just a rest on my own and get a proper night's sleep. It's working out really well, all things considered.' Christine smiled bravely. ‘It's nice to get to know other people in my situation. And Eric likes it too. Just because he's losing his memory doesn't mean he can't enjoy other people's company. It's a good place, Stanshawe House. The staff are wonderful, and everyone's so understanding. No one minds if Eric starts a game of chess then wanders off halfway through.'

Stanshawe House, Stanshawe House, why did that ring a distant bell? It only took a couple of seconds to make the connection. Should she mention it? Or keep quiet?

‘I think a friend of mine knows someone who lives there.' For a moment Ellie couldn't remember the surname; she had to conjure up a mental image of the painting in the flat, hanging above the mantelpiece in the living room. Having pictured it, she concentrated on the signature in the bottom right-hand corner: Martha Daines, that was it.

Christine took a sip of tea. ‘One of the residents? Who is it?'

‘Mr Daines.'

‘Henry?'

‘That's the one.'

‘Oh, my dear, I'm sorry. Didn't your friend tell you? Henry died a few weeks ago.'

Ellie sat back. ‘Oh, right. I didn't know. Well, that's… sad. What happened?'

‘Nothing dramatic.' Christine shrugged. ‘Bless his heart, he was such a dear gentle soul. He just passed away in his sleep, which isn't the worst way to go. He wasn't in any pain. Do you think your friend knows he's dead?'

Ellie shook her head. Tony had called for a long chat last night and he would have mentioned it. ‘I don't think he does.'

‘Oh my goodness, I hope I haven't spoken out of turn.' Looking worried, Christine said, ‘Maybe he should speak to the family… Henry's wife…'

‘Martha.' Ellie needed to double-check that they were talking about the same man.

‘Yes, Martha. Poor darling, she took it very hard.'

‘It must be a terrible time for her.' Ellie nodded in agreement. ‘I'm sure he'll do that. I'll let him know.'

They chatted for a while longer about Zack, then Ellie lifted the plant in its blue pot and carried it outside to Christine's little car.

‘Bye then, dear. Thanks so much for the plant. And I'm glad you've settled in here. Give Zack my regards.' With an unexpected twinkle, Christine said, ‘You can give him a kiss from me, if you like.'

Which was slightly alarming, and ironic to think that Zack had hired Christine in order to be safe, when it was becoming scarily apparent that she'd had a crush on him all along.

It just went to show, no matter how unprepossessing the exterior, a flirty soul could still lie beneath.

Back inside the house, Ellie leaned against the office door and gazed at the radiator.

For quite a while.

No, it was no good, she couldn't do it. She just wasn't that kind of person.

Dammit.

She had to use the plastic flyswat to reach across the desk and poke around behind the radiator until the postcard from Australia slid out. On her hands and knees, Ellie retrieved it from the floor under the desk, then straightened up again and put it in Zack's in-tray.

A loose splinter from one of the oak floorboards had managed to rip a hole in the knee of her tights, new on this morning.

Great.

This was her reward for doing the right thing.