Lipstick and Lies (17 page)

I had just parked up on Nell’s drive
way
when Morag arrived.
The natty little sports car she had owned pre-Henry had been replaced by a sensible
Ford Galaxy
.
As a nod to still being a girl-
racer, the Galaxy had
don’t-mess-with-me
low profile tyres
,
state of the art interior and
rear passenger privacy glass.
It had yet to reach the slobby levels of my own car, but all in
good time.

‘Good morning Cass
,
’
Morag greeted me looking like she was off to do a photo shoot.
She was in full make
-
up and pristine joggers.
A cosy fleece stretched across her ample bosom.

Two doors down a man in a pin-striped suit emerged from his house.
He took one look at Morag and tripped over
a
cat that had been pati
ently waiting on his doorstep.

‘Goo
d morning!’ I gave her a hug.

We were momentarily distracted by the sound of a spitting kitty.
Pin-stripe had the grace to look embarrassed. He slung a briefcase in h
is car and hastily drove off.

‘Where’s
this mad dog of Nell’s then?’

‘Brace yourself.
I don’t think Rocket has had any exercise of late
due to
Nell’s enforced
bed rest
.’
I rang the doorbell.
‘Expect to be carted along at ninety miles
per
hour.’

As Nell opened
the door, a red blur shot out.

‘Heel!’ Nell commanded.
Rocket goosed Morag before crashing back through the front door.
‘She’s very excited about going for walkies.
Hello Morag.
Here’s her lead Cass.
I’ll give you Rocket’s coat, just in case she feels cold.’
Nell peered at the sky anxiously.
‘The weather forecast sa
id there might be snow later.’

‘She’s
already
wearing a fur coat Nell,’ Morag
pointed out
.

‘Well I’d like you to take it nonetheless.
And here’s a bottle of water in case she
gets
thirsty.’

Morag took the bottle of Evian.
‘What does she do?
Hold it in her paw and swig?’

‘Don’t be silly.
You pour it into the palm of your hand
, and then l
et her lap.’

‘But she’s all slobbery.’

‘All babies are slobbery,’ Nell smiled ben
ignly.

I gave Morag a meaningful look.
She opened her eyes wide.
I nodded.
Rocket might be canine
,
but she enjoyed t
he same status as a daughter.

Nell straightened up.
She looked fit to burst.

‘No contractions
yet?’ I asked sympathetically.

‘Not a twi
nge.’

‘If you want to bring on labour
,
you
should have sex,’ said Morag.

‘Isn’t that
an old wives’ tale?’ I asked.

‘Not at all.
Sex releases oxytocin.
It’s a hormone.
It causes the uterus to contract.
Also semen contains prostaglandins
,
which help to soften the cervix.’

‘Is that how you triggered your own labour,’ asked Nell,
‘by getting Matt to bonk you?’

‘Of course.
Actually Henry was a bit prem.
Possibly from too much bonking.
But you know me.
A bonk a
day keeps the mistress away.’

I grimaced as a sudden vision of Jamie – who was
not even having a bonk a week
– flashed through my mind.
Ah yes.
There he was.
At work.
With Selina by his side.
Leaning across him. Letting her hair brush against his cheek.
Passing a biro.
Making sure her h
ands
touched his
.
Wafting perfume.
Trying to intoxicate him.

‘Ben’s at work,’
said
Nell, ‘so
right now
sex is out of the question.
Even if I wanted it.
Which I don’t.
We haven’t had sex for ages.
It’s just too uncomfortable when you’re this big.
And apart from anything else
,
Ben isn’t wildly turned on by my str
etchmarks and swollen ankles.’

‘No problem
,’ said Morag, ‘h
ow about a bit
of nipple twiddling instead?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Nipple stimulation helps to bring on labour much the same way as sex does.
It gets the oxytocin going.’
Morag paused.
Frowned.
‘Hmm.
Might take a bit more effort than the sex though.
How about Cass doing one n
ipple and me doing the other?’

‘Geddoff,’ Nell slapped Morag’s hand away.
‘I don’t want sex and I don’t want my nipples twiddled.
I’ll let Mother Nature see to it.
Now are you taking
my girl
for a run or not?’

‘You weren’t kidding when
you said this dog was a lunatic.
’
Morag
grimly
hung on
to Rocket’s lead while I puffed along behind
her
.

‘She’s like her name.
A missile.’

‘When we get to the park, can we
let her off the lead?’

‘Yes.
It’s well away from the road.’

We jogged along for another fifteen minutes.
It was a chilly, damp morning.
Despite the cold, I was absolutely wet through with perspiration.
Morag hadn’t so
much as broken out in a sweat.

As we entered the park, Morag unclipped Rocket’s lead.
The setter took off, nose down, tail up.
I ground to a halt.

‘Give me
some of that water,’ I gasped.

‘
I thought it was for the dog.’

‘Rocket won’t mind.
She drinks fro
m puddles when she’s thirsty.’

I glugged from the bottle.
It was one of those
moments
when water tasted like nectar.
Wiping my mouth, I
handed the bottle back to Morag.
We set off again, power walking this time, and took a picturesque path through towering oaks.
Bare branches soared into a sky the colour of milk.
Rocket threaded her way through the trees, stopping every now and again to w
ee
on piles of wet leaves.

‘Yo
u really are very unfit Cass.’

‘I can’t believe you’re not out of breath.
You don’t exercise.
Not properly.
And don’t give me all
sexercise
talk.
That’s a load of baloney.’

‘Ah, but it depends wh
ere you do it,’ Morag smirked.

‘What do you mean
where
you do it?
The bedroom.
Like normal folk.’

‘The
bedroom is for boring people.’

Oh God.
Wait for it.
I was about to be regaled with
stories of
legs akimbo on dining tables or jumping off wardrobes.
And there was me thinking my batht
ub bonk had been avant-garde.

‘Well if we want a really good w
orkout, we go to the stables.’

‘Are we still talking sex?
Or horse riding?’

‘Sex of course.
We leave Joanie babysitting Henry
,
and slip away on the pretext of checking the horses.
And then we pop into the indoor riding school
, and
Matt puts me on the lunging rein.’

‘You do realise the pair of you are
totally
kinky?’

‘Of course we’re not kinky Cass.
It’s
a
perfectly straightforward
piece of
cardiovascular exercise with a bit of pleasure thrown in.
I slide out of my coat,
and
toss it onto the
side
rails.
I’m naked.
Naturally.
’

‘Oh naturally.
It’s the most normal thing in the world to be in an indoor riding school late at night totally starkers.
Not to mention freezing.’

‘Oh I don’t get cold.
Not at all.
It’s straight into a brisk trot and concentrating on being schooled.
Last week I was put through my paces and learnt how to tackle a series of cavaletti.’

I boggled at an oak tree.

‘And what about Matt?
Isn’t he a bit, you know, chilly around the nether regions?
Just standing there while yo
u trot around him in circles?’

‘Oh no.
He’s a very fair instructor.
He always jogs beside me.’

‘I see.
So, let me get this straight.
Together you run around the indoor scho
ol naked and leap over jumps?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m still not u
nderstanding the sex in this.’

‘I’m getting to that.
Well because my cavaletti technique has improved, last night Matt put
up a small triple and a wall.’

‘I see.’
I didn’t.

‘Now a refusal – three faults – means a light flick of the whip. Whereas knocking down a jump – four faults – means having your bottom gently smacked.
But if you get a clear round, then you not only have a big pat – all over the chest – you get a c
hance to go to the stud farm.’

‘Don’t tell me.
Matt’s the stud farm.’

‘Well of course he is.
If anybody els
e was the stud farm that really
would be kinky.
And last night Matt covered me over the wall.
It was brilliant.
Although we did incur four faults.’
I arched a questioning eyebrow.
‘Quite a lot of the bricks fell down,’ Morag explained.
‘So how’s yo
ur own sex life coming along?’

‘Superb.’

Now it was Morag’s turn to arch a questioning eyebrow.
‘How many times have you
done it since New Year’s Eve?’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake Morag.
We don’t keep count you know.’

‘I thought so.
Nil.
Have you
telephoned my herbalist yet?’

I scowled.
‘I’ve had
other things to think about.’

‘I see.’
We emerged from the tree lined path and crossed a
sweeping stone
bridge.
Beneath us
the local river rushed by.
Elegant swans and Canadian geese bobbed about
on water the colour of
a
night sky
.
‘And do these
other things
in fact translate as
other person
?
A female whose name begins with
S?’

I scowled a bit more.
‘As it happens, yes.’
And suddenly, like the river we were walking over, I was gushing forth about Selina
and her
unwelcome
return
in our lives.
‘And to crown it all she’s
invited
herself to
kitchen supper with us tonight.’
My trainer connected with a squashed cola can.
I kicked it viciously.

‘Cass I know this woman was a
bit of a fruitcake at
one point, but let’s stop and analyse the situation.
Selina is now engaged to Ethan.
And Jamie is convinced she’s nuts about the guy.
It’s Ethan who is pushing for his fiancée to work
within the partnership
.
Selina’s trying to make the best of it.
She’s invited you into her home.
Welcomed you at her table.
The upset tummy is just a coincidence.
And she’s told Jamie she likes you and wants to be your friend.
Let’s face it Cass, your hubby is earning big bucks.
You have a great lifestyle.
Don’t let a tiny fly in the ointment spoil things. No hear me out–’ Morag put up a hand to silence me, ‘you don’t have to
be
her friend, just
tolerate
her.’