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There was a silence, then Cally said quietly, 'You utter bitch.'
Adele looked amused. 'I'm trying to be your friend here. After all, she'll only be the first of many, so you'd better be prepared. Nick's father was just the same,' she added insouciantly. 'No woman was safe around him. He left a string of broken hearts and marriages wherever he went, including his own. Why do you think your mother-in-law resumed her career so suddenly? Because she was sick of the endless betrayals, and scandals, and everyone knew it.'
Her smile widened. 'Jungles with wild animals and poisonous snakes must have seemed a soft option compared with Nick Tempest senior.'
Like father, like son. Her grandfather had said that. Had he known—heard gossip that Nick was involved with a married woman? Was that why he'd tried to warn her off?
'Besides,' Adele continued, 'I feel so sorry for you, moping round the house, waiting for Nick to come back and relieve you of your virginity. Especially when he's off consoling his bit on the side. Reassuring her mat it's just a marriage of convenience, and it's business as usual as far as she's concerned.'
'And you're also unforgivably vulgar,' said Cally, and went past her, through that open door and out of the house. She was shaking so much she thought she might fall in pieces, but she made herself keep moving.
Somehow she made her way to the flat in the courtyard which, until that day, had been her home. The rooms were already empty, as blank as if they'd never been occupied. The bed in her room had been stripped, and only a few clothes remained in the cupboards and drawers. But her bag was still there, with her wallet and her bank book. She'd been intending
to come and collect it, but then she'd been intercepted by Adele. She glanced inside, checking the car keys were there, too. That she had what she needed. Except she had no real idea of where she was going, or what she would do when she arrived.
She thought, Whatever happens, I have to know. Have to...
She unbuttoned the ivory silk dress she was still wearing from the morning's ceremony and stepped out of it, discarding the pretty lacy undies beneath as well. She found a cotton bra and briefs, that she'd considered far too workaday for her new life, and covered them with a denim skirt and a white T-shirt, sliding her feet into a pair of elderly sandals.
The bride was gone, and only a girl with a white face and burning eyes was left.
She'd only had the car for a week—a sleek, sporty Alfa Romeo that had been Nick's gift to her. She knew where Southwood Cottage was, of course. She could remember once catching a fleeting glimpse of its occupant, too. A dark-haired woman, she recalled, with one of those serene Madonna-like faces, working in the garden. Proving that appearances could be deceptive.
A saint in the kitchen, but a whore in the bedroom, she thought as she slid into the driving seat. Wasn't that supposed to be every man's idea of the perfect woman? She found she wanted to laugh hysterically, and sat for a moment regaining her self-control before starting the car.
When she reached the lane where the cottage was situated, she parked at its top and walked the rest of the way.
As she'd driven, she'd prayed that it wasn't true. That Adele was playing some kind of obscene joke on her. But Nick's car was there, under the shelter of some trees. There could be no mistake.
Cally moved quietly along the verge. As she reached the corner of the white-painted fence she heard voices. Hating herself, trembling violently, she crouched, looking through the branches of a tall shrub, and saw her worst fears confirmed. Nick was there, in the garden, standing with Vanessa Layton in his arms. She was clinging to him and crying, and he was stroking her hair.
'It's going to be all right.' He spoke quietly, but his voice carried easily to where Cally was hiding. 'Darling, I'll always be there for you.'
Cally couldn't hear her reply, but she watched Nick glance swiftly at his watch and nod. Together, they walked to the front door and went inside, closing it behind them.
Cally got shakily to her feet, then froze as Nick appeared at what was obviously an upstairs bedroom window.
Don't let him see me, she begged silently. She shrank into the shelter of a tall tree which was throwing a grotesque shadow on the road. Don't let him find me spying on him. Haven't I been humiliated enough without that?
Then she saw his hand move, realised he was drawing the curtains. Closing them in together. And that her concern was wasted, because he was clearly oblivious to everything but the woman going back into his arms in the shadowy room.
Suddenly she was aching inside, as if she'd been knocked down and kicked. Only bruises would heal eventually. Her wound was deep enough to be mortal, and she had to get away before she bled to death.
