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Alright, he needed to put an end to this. Whatever Scarlet’s game was, she had gone over the line.
Like so many women, Alice had always been overly self-conscious of her appearance. While no one could ever accuse his 110-pound wife, who could put away a whole pizza like Richard did a good 18oz steak, of being anorexic, she was borderline obsessive about her weight. One of her main requirements, when they’d been flat hunting, was that there had to be a nearby gym, and she visited it almost daily. After Alex was born, she’d worked hard to rid herself of the pregnancy pounds and even harder now to maintain her figure. She would give back as good as she got and believed in taking the bull by the horns. If a child tried to fob off not doing their homework, she called them on it. When something went wrong at home and he wasn’t in, she dealt with it.
So, if Scarlet wanted a fight, Alice would damn well give her one. Even if that was exactly what the little strumpet was counting on.
Richard opened his mouth to intervene, not at all interested in finding out just what his wife might say, or do for that matter, with so many people around them. Only Scarlet rounded on him before he could get a word out. Her eyes were bright with an impish mischief that made him want to run a hand through his hair.
“Anyway.” She cocked her head as if remembering an afterthought, her hair tumbling over one shoulder and exposing the long slope of her neck, as well as giving him a glimpse down the valley of her breasts. “I just so happened to notice that piece of mistletoe hanging up there. So, I asked Dickie if he considers it being unfaithful to kiss me.” She slid forward a step. Heat bristled across the back of Richard’s neck, the fury in Alice’s stare burning his skin as Scarlet pressed into him and touched a hand to his cheek before he could think to pull away. The closeness as intoxicating as the perfume suddenly fogging his thoughts and her eyes held his. “It’s such a small tradition I know, but they say it’s bad luck to ignore it.”
“Ohhh really?” Alice shouldered past the younger woman. Scarlet reeled, almost sprawling to the floor, before catching her balance at the last moment. “Then allow me.” Her hands tangled in husband’s hair, fisting and dragging his head down so their lips crashed together in a fierce kiss.
The sudden embrace stole his breath away and he couldn’t help uttering a ragged moan as her tongue forced its way past his lips to meet his in a feverish dance. His hands rose on their own accord to circle around her waist before trailing down her back to grasp her full buttocks, roughly pulling her against him and drawing a low moan from his wife. Then, just as quickly as she had begun, Alice broke the kiss and drew away from the embrace. Short of breath, Richard could only grin down at his wife’s satisfied smirk.
“Yea! Get in there, Richard, my son!” Mark called, followed by a sudden uproar of applause and catcalls as every face in the hall zeroed in on them. Breathing hard, Richard forced a smile and raised a hand in thanks, only to be elbowed in the ribs by the equally embarrassed Alice.
“Geez, get a room.” Scarlet snarled, her smirk replaced by a scowl. “Maybe you should go before they demand an encore. See you on Monday, Dick.” Then, starting to worry her bottom lip, she turned on her heel. “Nice to see you again Alice.”
“Bitch,” Alice cursed under her breath, watching the younger woman’s retreating figure with a look of utter malice, before taking her husband's hand in hers and dragging him through the mass of clapping hands and out of the two huge glass doors that opened out onto the Premier Inn’s rear garden. It was a cold night, even for mid-November, and the cloudless canopy above twinkled with stars that lit the ground just enough for them to make out the cobbled path leading around the structure to the car park. A frigid wind whistled by and Richard hesitated, remembering that Alice hadn’t been wearing a jacket, but she dragged him along. Though wearing five-inch heels, she traversed the tricky stones with ease while he was left almost tumbling over his own feet to keep up with her.
Polished and gleaming, their immaculate black Volkswagen Golf would have been almost invisible in the hotel’s car park if not for the solitary lamppost standing sentinel, bathing the vehicle in golden light. Unlocking it with a quick press on the key in his pocket, he held the passenger side door open for his wife to enter the vehicle before closing it and moving around to get in the driver’s side. However, no sooner had he pushed the key into the ignition did Alice round on him.
“So, what really happened between you and that tart, Scarlet?” she hissed, seething like a cobra in her venom.
“What? Nothing…. nothing at all…” Richard gasped, shooting her an uneasy smile that he prayed she might find convincing. Her stern look promised otherwise, however, and he quickly turned back to the windscreen, a heavy sigh passing his lips as he fastened his seatbelt and activated the dipped headlights. “Really… it was nothing; she was just asking me a question about mistletoe. And that’s all.” Twisting the key, he let the engine roar to life and then reversed out of the space before shifting into gear and driving from the car park out onto Gloucester Road.
“Ohhh really…Dick?” she spat accusingly, the nickname rolling off her tongue as a long serpentine hiss.
“Ugh! Bloody hell, Alice, this is ridiculous!” he growled, tearing his eyes off the road for a moment to shoot her a reproachful glare. Fortunately, there was little traffic, and the Golf purred like a kitten as they sped along the deserted dual carriageway, angrily challenging every traffic light at a steady 60mph. Yet when a metallic blue Vauxhall convertible roared out of the darkness, overtaking them with a sound like a thunderclap, he couldn’t resist the challenge and sped after it. Flooring it, he’d caught up to the sleek two-seater in a matter of seconds, but at a glance from Alice, he eased off the throttle. “Look, I swear, nothing is going on between Scarlet and me.”
She watched him suspiciously for a moment more before finally relaxing into her seat, yet he knew she wasn’t convinced. Alice was anything but a fool; she’d heard the whispers about his supervisor and, like any good loving wife, she was concerned.
They’d first met fifteen years ago at the University of Bristol. She’d been a ‘fresher’ studying English literature and out with her BFFs on a Saturday night. He’d been a struggling second-year Business Studies student working a double shift in the popular student bar, The Burning Book. While he’d been on the taps, she’d ordered a round of Bloody Marys and when she paid, had handed him a £20 note and a napkin with her mobile number scribbled down. She’d been the first girl to show any real interest in him and, utterly bedazzled by the petite stunner, he’d called her immediately after his shift. Five years later, they were both graduates with promising careers. Alice an English teacher in a prestigious secondary school, him a junior banker. They were also newlyweds, young and in love.
For the first few years of their life as husband and wife, they’d rented a comfortable little flat well within walking distance of Bristol’s city centre. However, disaster struck in 2004 when his bank was bought out and amidst the fallout, Richard had lost his job. For the following year they’d lived on a blend of his savings and Alice’s salary while he looked for work in the city, but the economic devastation of the recession had left him floundering in a raging river of unemployment and without their prosperous joint income, they’d been forced to move to the smaller, cheaper, city of Gloucester.
Feeling the tension hanging between them like a great steel-ball and collar as they left the lights of Cheltenham in their wake and sped down the black stretch of road, Richard changed the subject. “What did Samantha have to say?” Samantha Swift was Alice’s oldest and dearest friend, as well as her maid of honour at their wedding. “Shouldn’t she be attending to her latest husband’s bank balance? Or has the Internet finally run out of shoes and gold?” Alas, the joke fell on deaf ears.
“She’s getting divorced.”
“What?” He shot her a disbelieving sideways glance. “The ink on her marriage certificate hasn’t even dried yet, and she’s getting divorced. What happened? Did she bleed the poor bastard dry already? They’ve only been married a few months.”
Growing angry, Alice glared back at him. “No, this time it’s different. She caught him in the hot tub with their dog walker.” Damn.
Feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment, Richard kept his gaze rooted to the road ahead. Road signs indicated a roundabout half a mile ahead and beyond that, the horizon burned with golden radiance. Home sweet home.
Founded at the dawn of the first century AD, on the order of Roman Emperor Nerva and the pride of the Mercian King Æthelred, Gloucester was built along the banks of the River Severn, close to the Welsh border. Though primarily an industrial mecca, the city was a wealth of history and culture, with Tudor architecture still adorning its central streets and the fabled cathedral at its heart.
They drove in silence for several long moments, street lamps bathing them in warm light as they entered the city area. Cruising down Eastern-Avenue past rows of warehouse stores that lined either side, he glimpsed two sets of traffic lights changing from emerald, to amber, to crimson, and began to brake. Downshifting gears, he quickly floored it as the lights changed back just before they came to a complete stop. There were two more sets of lights, but both stayed green as they approached and passed. Despite it being ten-thirty on a Saturday night, the roads were dead and deserted but for the odd cyclist. Houses sprung like weeds as they drove around a roundabout, past a Tesco’s garage and took the last exit of an even larger roundabout, capped by a grass isle in its centre. There the road became thin and narrow, winding round numerous snaking twists and flanked with rows of two-storied brick houses on either side, passing a cemetery and an old primary school encircled by high iron spear fencing.
“She’s moving into her parents’ house on Friday,” Alice announced suddenly as they swerved off the main road after passing an ancient church. “I told her you’d be happy to help.” She glared at him venomously, as if daring him to refuse.
Steering the vehicle into their parking space, Richard took the car out of gear and put the handbrake on. Taking the key out of the ignition, he turned to his wife, gave her a genuine smile, and said, “Anything for you.”
Leaning forward, he seized her lips in a passionate kiss.
Though the living room door was shut, Richard could dimly hear a movie playing as he shut the front door behind him and Alice. Recognising the cheesy dialogue, he couldn’t help but groan in disappointment. Oh God, please no, not Twilight again!
The flat was a huge leap down from the one they’d had in Bristol. On the third floor of a five-storey tower block, it had two small bedrooms, one bathroom, and boasted views overlooking Gloucester Park as well as a security door and parking. The rent was also cheap because the flat was on the less desirable side of town.
