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The door opens and Lois appears at that moment, looking completely stunning in a silky sea-green dress that shows off her sculpted blonde waves and perfect figure to perfection.
‘You look gorgeous,’ Rory says, putting a hand on her waist and bending to kiss her, and my own hand flies instinctively to my stomach, which is rather less ‘washboard’ and more ‘cheeseboard’, courtesy of the amount of mature cheddar I get through, snacking during the day.
Must stop eating between meals.
‘Don’t spoil my lipstick!’ Lois bats Rory away. ‘This make-up took me ages to do.’
He gives his watch a good-humoured glance. ‘I know it did. We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.’
‘Come on, then.’
Lois links his arm and turns to tell me she’ll be staying at Rory’s tonight, and I think to myself what a handsome couple they make.
She glances at her arm. ‘Oh, I haven’t put my new bangles on. I’ll just run up and get them.’
Rory shakes his head. ‘If you run in that cast, you’ll end up fracturing your other foot. You don’t need bangles. Let’s go.’ He places his hands on her shoulders and manoeuvres her firmly out of the kitchen as Lois giggles in protest.
‘Enjoy your carbonara,’ he says with a wink, turning at the door.
‘Oh, I will.’ Smiling, I wave them off.
Then I retreat to the kitchen and slump down on a chair, staring at my reflection in the darkened window. I’m wearing my comfy but rather dowdy sweatpants and a pink top I’ve had for ages, and my dark hair is falling out of its up-do. I look a mess.
All day, memories of the night before– sitting by that bonfire with Rory– have been invading my thoughts. It was one of those occasions in my life that just feltright, as if for once all the stars were perfectly aligned. I think even Rory thought it was special, although that might just be my imagination.
Wishful thinking has a lot to answer for.
It led me down entirely the wrong path, back in the summer, when I kidded myself there was a chance for us.
Scraping back my chair, I walk to the window and let the blind down with a crash, before calling up to Bertie that dinner’s ready.
Far better stick to reality, Clara. Because that over-active imagination of yours does you no favours at all!
*****
Later, just after ten, I’m watching the news on TV when I hear Irene on the stairs, and at once, I’m feeling anxious.
She still won’t talk to me, and I have a million questions I need the answers to. Principally, who was blackmailing her? The other day, I asked her if he was still demanding money, but she shook her head and said that now Lois knew the truth, he no longer had a hold over her, so he wasn’t getting another penny. But she wouldn’t say anything else, leaving me still wondering.
Was he connected with her past, when she worked as an escort? It made sense to me that it might be someone who knew her back then and fancied profiting from her fear of Lois finding out the truth.
I hear the front door open so I go into the hall. ‘Irene?’
Where is she going at this time of night?
CHAPTER TWENTY
I look out and there she is, standing in the centre of the front lawn, her arms outstretched, waving her hands.
I pull on some footwear and rush out, across the grass, feeling icy needles of rain pricking my face. ‘Irene? What on earth are you doing?’ I have to shout to be heard over the roar of the wind, which is whipping my hair across my face.
She doesn’t hear me. She’s walking to the edge of the lawn nearest the road, still waving her arms about and mumbling to herself. The house opposite is in darkness, thank goodness. If Pru, our ‘attentive’ neighbour, was in, her eagle eye would be taking all of this in. Urgency rises inside me.
I need to get Irene back inside before any of the neighbours start wondering what’s going on and look out.
Running over, I pull at her arm and she turns, a look of surprise on her face.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I shout.
