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Connie uncurled her fingers. ‘Sorry.’
Behind her, Tiffany was still talking. ‘My second husband owned a nightclub, Foxy’s. Do you know it? Posh place in Dagenham. That’s where I started my career as an exotic dancer. Until Brian got jealous of all the men paying me attention. It’s me or them, babe, he’d say. Course at first, I chose him, before I realised how much cash I was losing. So it was bye-bye, Brian.’ She let out another laugh.
Connie was reeling. Tiffany had two ex-husbands? Surely Kenneth didn’t know about this? And was he aware she’d been an exotic dancer?
‘Betty…? Er… Mrs Boothroyd?’
Connie startled. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘My hand. You’re squeezing my hand.’
Connie looked down, she had poor Lucy in a death grip. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
Lucy extracted her hand and rubbed it.
What was she doing? This was crazy. Why was she torturing herself, listening to the ramblings of the woman who’d usurped her? It wasn’t helping, it was driving her nuts.
It was time to go.
‘Apologies, Lucy. I’m not in the right frame of mind for a manicure. Maybe another time.’
‘Whatever you say, Mrs Law… er… Mrs Boothroyd. You take care now.’
Connie got up, managing to knock over the polish, bang into the table and draw unwanted attention to her flustered state. ‘Sorry, not feeling so good. Need to lie down.’ She ran from the room, head down, tears descending… and smacked straight into Kenneth.
‘Connie? What on earth are you doing here?’ He tried to grab her, but she shoved him away. ‘Hey, calm down. What’s got into you?’
‘What’s got into me?’ She shoved him again, hating the way his green shirt set off his brown eyes. ‘I’ll tell you what’s got into me, you bastard!’ She thumped his chest. ‘Utter, utter, bastard!’ How dare he stand there, looking all handsome and smelling divine, while she was a crumbling wreck.
Lucy appeared from the salon. ‘Mrs Boothroyd? Betty? Are you okay?’
Kenneth looked confused. ‘Who the hell is Betty?’
Connie screamed. Really screamed, like a proper banshee scream.
If she was faking a sore throat before, she wasn’t now.
Aware of various staff appearing, and Tiffany saying, ‘Why is that woman screaming, is she having a breakdown, or something?’ – and knowing it was only a matter of time before security appeared and carted her off – she ran.
It was hardly an elegant exit. Her towel had slipped from her head, revealing damp matted hair. Her slippered feet slid on the marble flooring, threatening to send her flying. And the combination of crying and running made her breathing ragged and noisy.
When she finally reached the safety of the changing rooms, she barged into one of the toilet cubicles and locked the door behind her, dropping to her knees.
A wail escaped her.
She cried. Heaving, noisy, howling crying that wracked through her entire body.
So much for a nice relaxing morning.
Chapter Seven
Tuesday, 23rdApril – 7 weeks till the wedding
Beth loaded up the tea tray and headed upstairs to check on her mother. The Lawrence family home was eerily quiet, a far cry from years gone by when the place had been a bustle of noise and activity. Whether it was Megan acting out sketches, or Alex bashing out painful rhythms on his drum kit, there had always been chatter and noise.
Despite being the quiet one, Beth had enjoyed being part of an animated family. The background noise hadn’t dented her ability to concentrate on reading or studying for an exam. In fact, it had helped prepare her for life as a solicitor, where she’d often had to fight for her share of the conversation or out-argue the opposing side. Battling with her siblings for peace and quiet had been a handy learning curve. So a silent family home was a strange anomaly, and one that unnerved her.
Still holding the tea tray, she kicked Alex’s bedroom door. No response. She kicked harder, making the hinges rattle, until it eventually swung open.
