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  His father had told him once that Katherine was a cold fish in bed. He’d been pissed and maudlin. ‘Find yourself a warm-hearted woman, they’re the best,’ Jeffrey advised drunkenly. Chris thought of Ellen. She’d turned her back on him too, he thought self-pityingly. If it wasn’t for her, if she hadn’t kicked him out of her life, he’d never have had the fling with Alexandra. Suzy would never have found out and he wouldn’t be in the mess he was in now. It was all Ellen’s fault.

  He arrived at his mother’s fifteen minutes later. His heart raced as he let himself in to the house. He dreaded the meeting with his mother. She was in the lounge, sitting at her writing desk. Her thin, fine-boned face flawlessly made up. Her outfit, an elegant cream and navy shirt-waister dress, with matching cream shoes, simple yet utterly chic.

  ‘Good heavens, Christopher! What happened to your face?’ His mother’s face wrinkled in distaste as she saw his black and blue bruises.

  ‘Nothing. It was a slight accident in the car,’ he muttered.

  Clearly she didn’t believe him.

  ‘Sit down, Christopher.’ Her eyes were cold, contemptuous.

  He felt flustered. Now that he was here, his mother had reduced him to his usual feeling of inadequacy.

  ‘Now just wait a minute, Mother,’ he retorted defensively. ‘I don’t know what Suzy’s been saying, but whatever difficulties we have, it’s our business and you stay out of it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me about that girl in Glenree who had your baby?’ Her sharp glacial rejoinder halted him in his tracks.

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ he blustered, stunned.

  ‘That’s no excuse.’ Her voice was like a whiplash.

  Chris was rigid. He’d expected a lecture about Alexandra but Suzy had really played dirty telling Katherine about Stephanie. It shocked him that she would go to such depths. And it had given his mother a hell of an unfair advantage.

  ‘How could you do that to a woman? How could you turn your back on your own child? What kind of a son did I raise? And, if that’s not bad enough, now you’re sleeping with your wife’s best friend. I’m ashamed of my life of you, Christopher. I didn’t think even you could sink so low.’ His mother’s eyes flashed disdain. ‘You end this tacky little fling with that dreadful woman and sort yourself out with Suzy, and if I ever hear of you carrying on again, I won’t leave you a penny.’

  Tell her to stick it, Chris raged silently. He struggled with himself, torn between the enormous desire to tell her exactly what he thought of her and her money but knowing that if he did, he’d be on his own if anything ever went wrong in the business.

  Speechless, he turned and walked out of the room, still his mother’s prisoner. A hostage of his own cowardice. How dare she treat him like that? How dare she look at him with such scorn? How dare she talk to him like that? Suzy would pay for opening her big mouth. She’d pay dearly. He’d break her bloody neck.

  Suzy heard the crunch of gravel under tyres and her stomach gave a lurch. She’d been expecting her husband’s arrival ever since she’d hung up the phone on her mother-in-law.

  She’d asked a friend to take the twins for the night. She wasn’t quite sure what Chris was capable of. He might try and break in when he found the locks had been changed. She didn’t want the children to hear any rows. She didn’t want them to realise that she’d locked him out of their lives. He was their daddy and they loved him. Even though he’d been spending less and less time with them over the past year, they always wanted to be with him.

  She hurried upstairs. She felt safer there. She hid behind the curtains in Christina’s bedroom and watched as Chris, purple with temper, strode over to the front door and inserted his key. She couldn’t see his face, just the top of his head beneath her, but she could hear the furious juggling as he tried to get his key to open the lock. She saw him step back a pace and look up at their bedroom. He was livid.

  ‘Open that fucking door, Suzy, or I’ll smash it down. I swear I will. This is my house, and you malicious bitch, when I’m finished with you, you’ll be sorry.’

  The silence enraged him. He hammered on the door with his fists. Suzy’s heart hammered in unison with each blow. She was thankful for the solid oak strength of the door. She’d often nagged him to get it changed for a glass door, to allow more light into the hall, and he’d kept putting it off. She was heartily glad of that now. She was glad, too, that the ground-floor windows were quite high off the ground – even if he did smash the glass he’d need a chair to climb in. He wasn’t at all athletic.

  ‘Let me in, Suzy!’ he roared through the letterbox.

  She came and stood at the top of the stairs. ‘Go back to your whore,’ she said coldly. She wasn’t going to show that she was afraid.

  ‘You let me in, you bitch. I’ll break your neck for telling my mother to ring Alexandra’s place. How dare you tell her our business? How dare you tell her about Stephanie?’

  ‘And that’s not all I’ll tell her. If you touch me or do any damage trying to get in here, I’ll call her right now. If you want to talk to me we’ll meet somewhere public for lunch to make arrangements about when you can see the kids and about our finances. I’ll call you at work next week to fix a time and place.’ Suzy came halfway down the stairs. She wasn’t afraid any more. She felt very much in control of the situation. Chris could rant and rave as much as he liked but, as long as she didn’t back down, he’d have to give way.

  ‘Open that door!’

  ‘Get lost, Chris. You made the decision. You made the choice. Now live with it. Our marriage is finished. I might have got over a fling with a stranger. But you decided to rub my nose in it by having a seedy little affair with my best friend. So there’s no going back. She’s welcome to you. She can tie you to her bedstead for the rest of your crummy little lives, as far as I’m concerned. I hope I have as little to do with you as possible. You revolt me.’

  ‘I’m just telling you, Suzy. This is my house. And I’ll come and go in it when and where I please. I’ve no intention of living with Alexandra for the rest of my life. So you have a key cut for me the next time I see you or I’ll cut you off without a penny.’

  ‘Don’t threaten me, Chris. There’s a lot more I’ll do to you. Just wait and see.’

  ‘You’re a crazy bitch. I’ll have you committed. I’ll sign you in somewhere and say you’ve lost your marbles. I’m warning you. I’ve got friends in the medical profession.’

  ‘It’s not me that’s lost my marbles. How could even you lower yourself to having an affair with the Ballsbridge Bike? She’s put more men through her hands than you’ve had hot dinners. I thought you had some taste, Chris. I was obviously very wrong. You’re pathetic and I’m not standing here arguing any more. I’m busy.’

  Suzy turned and walked back upstairs. The truth was, she wanted to open the door and attack Chris with anything she could find to hand. Coolness and calmness had given way to jealousy and hatred. Tears smarted her eyes. ‘Bastard, bastard, bastard,’ she muttered as the huge knot of pain, hurt and deep deep anger flared up and engulfed her in a cloud of dark, oppressive anguish that frightened her with its intensity.

  Would she always feel like this? Torn apart?

  Had that poor woman in Glenree felt like this when Chris had left her, pregnant and alone? Would Alexandra eventually feel like this when he left her, as he surely would? They’d never last together. Or would they? Was Alexandra the one who could give him what he wanted and needed? Would she succeed where all the others, herself included, had failed?

  This thought caused Suzy such grief she thought she was going to die. Chris had called Alexandra a ball-breaker once. He’d always despised her. How could he want to be with her? Was their sex wild and passionate? Perhaps if she’d been a bit more adventurous Chris might still be with her. She’d never thought of tying him to the bedstead. Trust Alexandra! She’d probably done every position in the Kama Sutra with him. It tormented Suzy to know that Chris preferred making love to
Alexandra than to her. It was such a rejection of her as a woman. Why, why, why couldn’t it have been a stranger? To lose your husband to your best friend was the most grievous betrayal imaginable.

  Suzy sank her head in her hands and bawled her eyes out as the silence downstairs told her that Chris had retired, defeated.

  She wasn’t getting away with it. If she thought for one minute that she was going to kick him out of his own house, she was sadly mistaken.

  The nerve of her. By God, Suzy Wallace was going to come to earth with a bang. And to think that he was going to have to pay for the locks that were keeping him out of his own house. It was outrageous.

  Chris drove towards town with no clear idea where he was going. He didn’t feel like going back to Alexandra’s. He didn’t want her to think he was depending on her for a bed.

  He was heartily sick of women. All they meant was trouble. All they’d ever done was to give him grief. He was damned if he was going back to Alexandra’s. She was the worst of the whole lot of them. She was so damned cold. Good in bed but very brittle afterwards. She wasn’t fun. She couldn’t care less about his work. The only woman who’d really been interested in him was Ellen.

  Chris felt a deep pang of heartache as he thought of Ellen. She’d make him happy, she really would. He had to get her back, he thought miserably. He had to. Otherwise what would he do? Where would he go?

  He was alone, he thought sadly, feeling immense pity for himself. A man alone.

  He drove into the Burlington car park. To hell with the whole lot of them, he’d book in here. Tonight he was going to order a good steak and an expensive bottle of fine wine and after that he was going to spend the night getting rat-arsed drunk with a bottle of brandy in his bedroom. He might as well spend his money on himself and enjoy it. It would mean less for Suzy. He might even treat himself to the weekend in the hotel doing just as he pleased. If he didn’t look after himself nobody else would, that was for damn sure.

  Where the hell was Chris? He’d been gone for hours. She was hungry. Alexandra paced the floor impatiently. She was dying to know what had happened between him and his mother. And to know had he called to see Suzy.

  What a wildcat she’d turned out to be. Alexandra traced a finger along the puffiness of her cheek and eye. It still hurt like hell. She’d never thought that Suzy was capable of such passion. And over Chris. It was amazing. She really did love him.

  Well, she could have him back. As far as Alexandra was concerned it was over. She’d tell him tonight when he got back with the groceries.

  It had been an interesting little fling. She’d enjoyed it. But it was all getting too heavy now. The balance had changed. She hadn’t bargained on him living with her. A couple of nights of good sex, dinner and champagne had suited her fine. She hadn’t wanted anything more. Now it looked as if it was being forced on her. So tonight she’d dump him, Alexandra decided firmly.

  The phone shrilled out in the hall. She hurried to pick it up. It was Chris. She listened astounded as he informed her calmly that he was spending the weekend in a hotel to ‘think’.

  ‘And what about me?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’ll talk to you Monday,’ Chris said impatiently.

  ‘But all your clothes are here. You’ll need a change of clothes.’ Alexandra couldn’t believe her ears.

  ‘I’m going to treat myself to some new clothes tomorrow. I’m going to go shopping,’ Chris declared.

  ‘And what about the groceries you were supposed to get? I’ve nothing in the fridge. I can’t go out like this!’

  ‘Go to a small corner shop where they don’t know you. Put your dark glasses on and you’ll be fine. Look, I need time to be alone to think. I’ll call you.’ The abrupt click as he hung up left Alexandra with her mouth open.

  Was he dumping her? That wasn’t the way it was supposed to work. She was going to dump him. Just what kind of a shit was he? How dare he leave her . . . foodless . . . and with a face like the back of a bus while he lounged in a hotel room . . . thinking? He needn’t think it was over. It would be over when she decided and not before.

  Chapter Seven

  The noise it was making. Julie Ann tutted as she raised her head from her sums. The baby was yelling and the new nanny, Mrs Murdock, couldn’t get it to be quiet. He’d been here for two days now and such a fuss that was being made of him. Everyone wanted to see him. He was getting loads of presents. Her daddy kept looking at him in his pram and smiling.

  Yesterday she’d been singing The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music and doing her ballet twirls just like Julie Andrews and her mummy had told her crossly to ‘sshhh’ because she’d wake the baby up. She’d got really mad and said she wasn’t sshhhing because she was practising to be a film star, and how was anyone supposed to practise being a film star in this house if they couldn’t sing? And her mummy had got very cross and told her not to be cheeky or she’d send her to boarding school. That was scary. She didn’t want to go to boarding school. It was all that new baby’s fault. Julie Ann scowled as he kept bawling.

  She’d had enough. She flounced out of the sitting-room and went upstairs to her bedroom. If she didn’t get her sums done, she’d be a dunce at school tomorrow. Rebecca and Stephanie always knew their tables and their spellings because their mummies helped them with their homework. Her mummy was never at home. It wasn’t one bit fair at all.

  Julie Ann stared at her reflection in the mirror. It really was time she started wearing lipstick and eyeshadow, she decided. Then maybe she could leave school and not have to do sums and spellings. Everyone would think that she was grown up and she could go shopping and have lunch with her friends just like her mummy did.

  She could hear Mrs Murdock singing to the baby downstairs. She sounded like a crow, Julie Ann thought scornfully.

  ‘The hills are alive with the sound of music,’ Julie Ann trilled at the top of her voice as she pirouetted into her parents’ bedroom, coming to a breathless halt in front of her mother’s dressing-table. She opened the middle drawer. Lipsticks, powders, eyeshadows, eyebrow pencils and mascara all lay neatly in front of her. ‘I am sixteen going on seventeen,’ Julie Ann warbled as she sat on Emma’s dainty little seat and began the serious task of putting on her make-up.

  ‘Aunt Katherine’s found out about Stephanie – wow! Did she go bananas?’ Emma sipped a cup of coffee but refused the chocolate biscuit her mother offered her.

  ‘She was extremely distressed. She wanted to know why I hadn’t told her about it. But it wasn’t my place to tell her.’ Pamela tapped her fingers agitatedly against the table.

  ‘Of course it wasn’t,’ Emma soothed. ‘Chris should have done that.’

  ‘Tsk,’ Pamela snorted. ‘That pup wouldn’t know what it was to do something honest and decent. Mother was right about him. She always said he was spineless. I pity Katherine. Between him and Jeffrey she’s never had a minute’s peace. He gets more like his father every day.’

  Oh dear, Emma thought. Chris certainly isn’t in the good books today.

  ‘Is Aunt Katherine going to get in touch with Ellen and Stephanie?’ Emma asked delicately. Vincent mightn’t like the idea. He had no time for Chris because of the way he’d deserted Ellen when she got pregnant with Stephanie, but as far as he was concerned the past was over and done with. He wouldn’t want Aunt Katherine interfering, raking over old coals.

  ‘I didn’t like to pry. You know Katherine – she can be prickly. I think she should just let things be,’ Pamela sighed.

  ‘I think so too. It’s a bit late now anyway.’

  ‘Knowing Katherine, though, I should imagine she feels bad that Chris never supported them, Emma. Katherine has moral fibre, Chris has none. I’d imagine she has some sense of obligation and duty towards her grandchild. I know I would in her position,’ Pamela mused.

  ‘It’s a mess,’ Emma murmured. Chris must be going ape now that his mother had found out his dark secret. How on earth had she found out? He hardly told he
r off his own bat. Or maybe he had. Maybe he was serious about wanting to get to know Stephanie. How odd that this was all happening after all these years.

  A thought struck her. She’d be having a christening party for Andrew. Now that Ellen and Vincent were on speaking terms again, she’d have to be invited. Hopefully they wouldn’t have a row at this party like the one that had caused the falling out a few years back. That had been nasty. It would be much easier not to invite her but it would be a very obvious snub if she wasn’t. Emma couldn’t do that to her sister-in-law. They might not be bosom buddies, but Ellen had been very good about letting Stephanie play with Julie Ann. She hadn’t carried her bad feeling over into their children’s relationship. And for that, Emma had to admire her.

  Aunt Katherine, too, would be invited to the christening. She’d see Stephanie for the first time. Well, not the first time exactly. Ellen and Stephanie had been at a service for Emma’s late grandmother but Katherine wouldn’t have known anything about Stephanie then.

  She sighed. Maybe she should reconsider and just have a small family gathering. Grandparents only. But how boring that would be, she thought crossly. She was looking forward to having a big bash. Gillian and Frank had thrown a big do for their wedding anniversary last month and they’d really gone overboard. They’d put up a marquee in the back garden, even though their garden was only the size of a postage stamp, and invited about two hundred guests. It was ridiculous. All the gang had thought so. But it was the first time any of their set had done it. Gillian and Frank were like the cats that got the cream. For once, Emma had felt outdone.

  She’d been racking her brains to see how she could outdo the marquee. She didn’t want anything vulgar and ostentatious. Style was what it was all about. Style and elegance. Gillian and Frank wouldn’t know style if it came up and smacked them on the nose, Emma thought scornfully. She’d been thinking of having a pianist or – even better – a harpist. That would be so different to her friend’s excesses. Much more sophisticated.