At the reception desk I can see an excited blond girl with the tiniest of bumps, saying, “I’m so thrilled to have a place with Venetia!”
Yes, you are now, I think savagely. Until she makes you look like a freak in front of your husband.
I’m nearly at the door, when a sudden recollection stops me. Luke’s mobile rang this morning while he was in the shower, and I answered it. Which was not because I am possessive and suspicious, but because…
Well, OK. I thought it might be Venetia. But it wasn’t; it was John from Brandon Communications and I never told Luke to ring him. I’d better let him know.
I retrace my steps through the waiting room, trying to ignore the curious stares of the blond girl and her husband. These bloody stockings are coming off as soon as I get outside.
A woman in a blue nurse-type uniform is ahead of me in the corridor, and as I’m shuffling along she pauses at Venetia’s door. She knocks twice, then opens the door.
“Oh, sorry!” I hear her say. “I didn’t mean to disturb…”
Disturb what? Disturb what?
My heart suddenly hammering, I hurry forward along the corridor, and just catch a glimpse through the doorway as the nurse retreats.
And I see them. Sitting together on the desk, talking in low, laughing voices. Venetia’s arm is resting casually across Luke’s shoulders. The other hand is entwined in his. They look happy and relaxed and intimate.
They look like a couple.
I don’t know how I get to the restaurant where I’m meeting Suze and Jess. I’m walking on autopilot, like a zombie. I want to throw up every time I think about it.
They were together. They were together.
“Bex?”
Somehow I’ve pushed my way in through the glass doors and am standing in a total daze as waiters bustle around and people chatter. “Bex, are you OK?” Suze is hurrying over to greet me. Her eyes drop in dismay to my white legs. “What are you wearing? What’s happened? Bex…can you speak?”
“I…no. I need to sit down.” I totter after her to a corner table where Jess is sitting.
“What’s happened?” Jess looks aghast at my appearance. She quickly pushes out a chair for me and helps me sit down. “Are you OK? Is it the baby?”
“I saw them,” I manage.
“Who?”
“Luke and Venetia. Together.”
“Together?” Suze claps a hand to her mouth. “Together, doing…what?”
“They were sitting on a desk, talking.” I can barely get the words out. “She had her arm on his shoulders. And he was holding her hand.” I look up for a reaction. Both Suze and Jess look like they’re waiting for more.
“Were they…kissing?” Suze ventures.
“No, they were laughing. They looked all happy. I just…I had to get out of there.” I take a deep gulp of water. Suze and Jess exchange glances.
“And…that’s why you put on white tights?” hazards Suze cautiously.
“No! Of course not!” I thrust down my glass, feeling the humiliation rise up again. “It was Venetia! She took away my shoes and my bag and she made me put these things on, just so I’d look all gross in front of Luke.”
Suze gasps. “What a cow!”
“And I can’t get them off.” I’m near tears by now. “I’m stuck with them!”
“Come on! I’ll help you!” Suze puts down her glass and reaches for one of the stockings. Jess is watching, her brow wrinkled.
“Becky…are you sure there isn’t some good health reason for wearing them?”
“No! She was just doing it to be mean! She said fashion’s bad for the health!”
Jess looks unmoved. “Fashion is bad for the health.”
“Fashion is not bad for the health!” I erupt. “It’s good for the health! It makes you…it makes you stay slim and stand up straight so your jacket hangs better. And take an interest in yourself so you don’t get all depressed.” I’m ticking the points off on my fingers. “And high heels are brilliant exercise for calf muscles….”
“Bex, have some wine,” says Suze soothingly, pushing her glass over. “Just a sip won’t hurt the baby. And it might…calm you down a bit.”
“OK. Thanks.” I take a grateful gulp.
“My obstetrician told me I could have a glass every other night,” adds Suze. “He’s French.”
I take another sip, feeling my heart rate subside. I should have gone to France to have the baby. Or anywhere but Venetia Carter. Maybe I should just forget this whole hospital thing and have the baby in a shop, like I always planned. At least I’d feel relaxed and happy. At least I’d get free clothes.
“I don’t know what to do.” I put the wineglass down and look miserably from Suze to Jess. “I’ve already tried talking to Luke. He said nothing was going on and they were just friends. But they didn’t look like just friends to me.”
“How exactly was he holding her hand?” Suze frowns intently. “Could it just have been friendly? Is Venetia a touchy-feely person?”
“She’s…” I think back. I remember her squeezing my arm, brushing a hand down my arm. “Quite,” I allow at last.
“Well, maybe that’s all it is! Maybe she’s just one of those people that gets too close.”
“Do you have any other evidence?” asks Jess.
“Not yet.” I fiddle with a bread stick wrapper, wondering whether to tell them. “I followed him the other day.”
“You did what?” Suze looks aghast. “What if he’d seen you?”
“He did see me. I pretended I was shopping.”
“Bex…” Suze clutches her hair. “What if nothing’s going on? Just seeing them holding hands isn’t proof. You don’t want to ruin all the trust between you and Luke.”
“So, what should I do?” I look from face to face. “What should I do?”
“Nothing,” says Suze firmly. “Bex, I know Luke loves you. And he hasn’t done anything really incriminating, has he? It would be different if he’d lied to you, or if you’d seen them kissing….”
“I agree.” Jess nods vigorously. “I think you’ve got the wrong end of the stick, Becky.”
“But…” I trail off, winding the wrapper tightly around my fingers. I don’t know how to explain it; I just have a bad feeling. It’s not just the texting, or the dinners. It’s not even seeing them just now. It’s something about her. It’s something in her eyes. She’s a predator.
But if I say that to the others, they’ll say I’m imagining it.
“All right,” I say at last. “I won’t do anything.”
“Let’s order,” says Suze firmly, shoving a menu at me.
“There’s a set menu,” says Jess, putting a typed sheet on top of the a la carte. “It’s more economical, if we only have two courses and don’t choose any of these ridiculous items with truffles.”
I immediately want to retort that truffles are my favorite food and who cares how much they cost? But the trouble is, I kind of agree. I’ve never got the whole thousand-pounds-for-a-truffle thing.
Oh God. Please don’t say I’m starting to agree with Jess.
“And you can help me think of how to get my own back on Lulu,” adds Suze, passing the bread basket.
“Ooh,” I say, cheering up. “How come?”
“She’s been asked to do a TV program,” Suze says with disdain. “One of those makeover shows where she goes to the house of some crap mother and tells them how to cook healthily for their children. And she’s asked me to be the first crap mother!”
“No!”
“She’s already put my name forward to the production company!” Suze’s voice rises in indignation. “They phoned me up and said was it true that I only fed my children canned food and that none of them could speak?”
