Who Needs Men Anyway?. Victoria Cooke
like a size six already!’ Megan said, shaking her head. ‘Come on, let’s get those thighs working.’
I was more of an eight to ten, but it was sweet of her to say, and I was hardly going to argue.
We headed to the room off the kitchen that James and I had built behind the garage. It was going to be a snug, as that seemed to be the trend, but then I had the amazing idea of turning it into a mini gym after watching one of those ‘celebrity homes’ programmes. We’d kitted it out with a running machine, cross-trainer, and bike, plus all the kettlebells, dumbbells, and fitness stuff you could ever need. It sometimes irritated me when Megan ignored the equipment altogether and made me do burpees, but just that once, I let her have her way without complaining.
‘Let’s get you warmed up. Start with forty seconds of jumping jacks.’ No pain, no gain.
‘Okay.’ I began. ‘Did you enjoy the Sam Smith concert last night?’ I asked, panting as I jumped.
She smiled and gushed for well over the specified forty seconds about how amazing it was. I carried on jumping with a smile fixed to my face – it never seems right to stop until told to, does it? I must’ve jumped for at least eighty seconds (it felt more like ten solid minutes) and it was hard, trust me.
‘Who did you say you went with? Your fiancé, was it?’ I asked when she’d finally finished extolling the virtues of Mr Smith.
‘No, he’s not a fan. Besides, it was a girls-only night. I went with Mike’s brother’s wife.’ She smiled. I hoped she didn’t remember that she’d already told me who she was going with.
‘Well, at least he could pick you up afterwards,’ I prompted.
She laughed. ‘We were out too late for that. He was already asleep when I got in.’
I’ll bet he was. Worn out no doubt! The poor woman had absolutely no idea what her husband-to-be was up to. I had to catch him out. I allowed her to inflict burpees upon me and then surprisingly, we did actually use my kettlebells. By the end of the workout, my muscles burnt and my chest felt light. I felt good.
‘Thank you so much for coming over.’ I handed her three crisp ten-pound notes.
‘Not a problem. Same time tomorrow?’
I nodded. Mondays were one of our regular days along with Wednesdays and Fridays – I just hoped I’d be able to move my legs by then.
After Megan left I took a shower then sat in the orangery to work on my plan. The garden views always instilled in me a state of calm but the grass was looking a little longer than I liked, so Jim the gardener obviously hadn’t been. Recently, he’d missed a few weeks here and there, and I’d started to wonder why he called himself a professional since he wasn’t very good or reliable. I made a mental note to contact Sam, the owner of the gardening company, to let him know. With any luck, he’d send someone else. Sam and James were old university acquaintances so I was sure he’d be accommodating.
My phone buzzed with a message.
Charlotte, I’m terribly sorry. I’m unable to make the charity brunch. I’ve popped a donation in the post and we’ll catch up at the ball. Emmy x
I sighed. I knew guests would drop like flies when they caught wind of Lauren’s ball date clash. Coiffured curls and Charlotte Tilbury smoky eyes were more important to those shallow types than showing support for a good cause and a ball always trumps a brunch. I was furious with Lauren, and Emmy Walters wouldn’t be the only one to back out. After her recent lipo, she was probably petrified of eating two full meals in one day. I grit my teeth and tapped out a response.
Not to worry, Emmy, I appreciate the length of time it will take you to get ready. Thank you anyway for your generous support. Since I’m attending the brunch and the ball, perhaps I’ll see you in the evening. Xx
I deleted the kisses, because nothing makes a point better than the number of kisses at the end of a message.
Right, back to business. My first task was to find out who the scarlet woman was. From there I’d decide how best to tell Megan.
‘I’m going shopping,’ I called to James, knowing that wouldn’t rouse suspicion on his part. I wasn’t sure how I’d justify my actions to James – he could never understand why I got involved with problems that weren’t my own, which was silly. I was helping people just like he did every day. Outside I saw that the drizzle had dampened the small red bricks of the house, transforming them into a murky brown colour. I couldn’t wait for summer. Winter had been months of spirit-inhibiting grey drizzle, so some heat and sun would be quite welcome.
I pressed my key fob and the black cast-iron gates at the end of the driveway creaked open. I made a second mental note to call the handyman to oil them. With James being so busy, I really had to take care of all these things.
I drove to the house that Mike had dropped the mystery woman off at the previous night. It looked even worse in the stark light of day: weeds had sprung up between the broken slats of the cheap wooden fence. The upper half of the small property was pebble-dashed, and part of that had chipped away. The door had been painted purple. Purple? Had I liked the woman, I’d have probably arranged for a few of my contacts to spruce the place up for her.
Small and simple plans are the key to success; long, elaborate plans leave too much room for failure. Quite frankly, I didn’t even have a plan. I snuggled into my heated seat and contemplated what to do. I had a few options to consider, including knocking on the door under the pretence of having got the wrong address; waiting in the car until she came out and then following her to get a feel for her routine and how I might catch her; or giving up and going home. But giving up wasn’t in my nature.
As it happens, the decision was made for me, when the door opened and a young woman came out. Younger than me, anyway. Around twenty-seven give or take. She had thick shiny chestnut hair and was wearing some kind of yoga attire. Well, if you live in a place that looks like that I suppose one has to achieve a relaxed state somehow, I thought, already stressed just looking at the unkempt appearance of the house.
The sun broke through the clouds, glinting off the moist pavement and privet hedges. Squinting a little – an action that would definitely deepen my emerging crow’s feet – I rummaged in the glove box for some sunglasses, pulling out some old Chanel cat’s-eye ones that I kept in there for emergencies. I wondered absent-mindedly if they were still in style. Despite my fashion-crisis interlude, I never took my eyes off the woman. She had a mat-roll slung over her shoulder and walked briskly to the end of the street. As she turned the corner, I fired up my engine and crept along the street until I spotted her again at a bus stop.
Pulling over, I checked my make-up in the mirror. It was difficult to tell, but there was a slight possibility the lady at the Lancôme counter had recommended the wrong colour eyebrow pencil. It looked more orange than beige, but it could have been the light.
Debating whether to return the offending pencil, I belatedly realised that a single-decker bus had pulled up at the stop and had set off with the woman on board. My heart started to race as I turned the corner to follow it with no clue as to where we’d end up. As I drove, my mind wandered through the what-ifs: what if she’d noticed the car, knew I was following her, and was leading me to some dodgy disused warehouse on the outskirts of town so she could bump me off before I could disclose her sordid affair? I laughed out loud at my own imagination. Too many thrillers, Charlotte! I shook my head. Plus, she’d hardly be taking the number 84 if that was her evil plan.
The bus was heading away from the town centre, towards the outlying village where Megan lived. Interesting. I knew she wouldn’t be heading to see Mr Megan in the cold light of day, and, of course, I was right. She got off the bus on the high street, which was convenient for me as there was a Costa Coffee there where I could top up my caffeine levels.
I pulled over and watched as she entered a door set between a bridal shop and a children’s shoe shop. Adrenaline coursed through me as I climbed out of the car