Lipstick and Lies (18 page)

‘I
am
tolerating her. Why do you think she’s coming into our home tonight?
But that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.
I don’t trust her Morag.
Not one little bit.
I know Jamie isn’t going to be charmed by her.
He’s no Stevie thank God.
But where Selina is concerned,’ I tried to find the words to explain my foreboding, ‘I just can’t put my finger on it,’ I finished lamely.
‘Fruitcakes
don’t change their currants.’

‘Talking of fruitcakes, where’s that daffy dog gone?’
Morag stopped.
Putting
up
one
hand to shield her eyes against the low winter sun
, she
scanned the horizon.

Suddenly there was a commotion of cackling and hissing.
A group of swans and geese on the riverbank scattered as Rocket shot out of so
me bushes and pounced on them.

‘Rocket!’ I yelled.
‘Heel!
Do you hear me?’

A man on a bicycle
appeared.
He
was peddling furiously towards us.
‘Is that your dog down there?
It’s a ruddy menace.
It chased me along the tow path.
Put it on a lead or I’ll wallop it with my bicycle pump.’

The swans and geese had now gathered as one.
Wings were flapping.
Beaks pecking.
Rocket immediately went into r
everse and charged towards us.

‘Good girl, come to Aunty Morag!’ Morag
held her arms wide
.
Rocket, tongue lolling, ears flapping, galloped
towards us – and then whooshed
straight past
.
Her destination appeared to be
the cyclist.

‘Oh no!’

Behind us t
he air turned blue
.
Angry
swearing
was
punctuated by
the
frantic rings of a bicycle bell.

Morag chewed her lip.
‘What shall we do?’

‘Run,’ I advised.

We fled.

‘Oh God,’ snorted Morag as we belted along the tow path, ‘I know it’s not fun
ny Cass, but I can’t help it.’

‘Me neither,’ I gasped, hair flying
.
‘
H
ave you ever seen a dog trying to bonk a b
icycle
?’

‘Never.
I didn’t th
ink lady dogs were like that.’

‘Me neither.
Perhaps Rocket is bi
ke
-exual.’

‘Oh don’t,’ Morag whe
ezed, ‘I can’t laugh and run.’

A children’s playground loomed.
We vaulted over the perimeter fencing, pounded up a ladder and
hid in a playhouse on stilts.

‘Get your head down,’ Morag whispered hoarsely, ‘Bic
ycle Bill is coming this way.’

‘No!’

‘Yes.
And Rocket is in hot pursuit.’

‘Oh buggerations.
What are we going to do?’

‘Try not to laugh,’ said Morag
,
and promptly convu
lsed.

‘Oi you bloody women,’ hollered
the cyclist.
‘I know you’re
both
there somewhere.
You haven’t heard the last of this.
I’ll be reporting you to the police.
Along with your dog.’

Morag inched up slowly and peered over the
wooden sill
.
‘Rocket’s jumped the fence,’ she whispered wiping tears from her eyes
.
‘S
he’s
now
running around the playground.
But I think Bicycle Bill h
as gone.’

From down below we heard whimpering followed by scrambling noises.
I poked my head cautiously around the door opening.
Rocket saw me and let out a series of joyful barks.

‘Yo
u naughty girl,’ I admonished.

‘Come on,’ said Morag
,
dropping to the ground
.
‘
L
et’s get the hell out of here.’
She grabbed Rocket’s collar.
‘And as for you young lady.
Your mother’s going to have plenty to sa
y about this when we see her.’

Rocket emitted a few more baritone barks as I snapped
on her
lead.

‘My legs are li
ke jelly.’

‘Well sharpen them up because we’re not lingering,’ said Morag.
She gave a
furtive
look left and right
,
then beckoned with one hand.
‘This way.’

I didn’t need telling twice.
Pounding after Morag, we fairly flew back along the tow path, over the bridge, through the oaks and toward
s
Nell and sanctuary.
By the time we walked into Nell’s cul-de-sac, we’d been gone for the best part of two hours.
I rang the doorbell.

‘I can’t wait to get home and have a shower
,’ I sighed.
‘
And I might be
totally decadent
and h
ave a whopping slice of choc–’

The front door flew open.

‘Help,’ bleated Nell.
Her stricken face sai
d it all. ‘The baby’s coming.’

‘Oh my goodness
, I’ll call an ambulance.
’ I
ferreted through my pockets looking for my
mobile phone.

‘Don’t be daft,’ said Morag, ‘it’s qu
icker to take her in the car.’

‘Okay.
We’ll go in
mine,’ I jingled my car keys.

‘I’m not going anywhere in your car Cass,’ panted Nell, ‘it’s full of rubbish.
What if my baby makes a swift entrance
into the world
?
I’m not having it delivered on a pile o
f McDonald cartons.’

‘O
kay, we’ll go in Morag’s car.’

Morag looked horrified.
‘I’m not sure I want a baby being delivered on my back seat.
Henry did a pooh when he was born.
There was black meconium everywhere.
I don’t want to be scrubbing that off the upholstery.’

‘Well go and get a towel out of t
he airing cupboard,’ I huffed.

‘Don’t come in
to
my
house with those muddy trainers on,’ screeched Nell.
‘I’ve been cleaning this place rigorously for the last week.
It’s spotless.’

‘Well you’ve got a muddy do
g in here.’

‘She’s different,’ snapped Nell, ‘she’s my boofles.
’

‘Well I think we’d bett
er get your boofles out the way.
’
I pushed past Nell and led Rocket into the kitchen.
Shutting the door firmly after her, I turned to Morag.
‘I think you and I had better wash our hands very thoroughly.
Just in case.’
I went
into the downstairs cloakroom.

Nell shut the front door.
‘I need to call Ben.
He wants to be present at the birth.
And I also need to call my mother and let her know she’ll have to pick up Dylan from school.
And then I need to call
the school and let them know–’

‘Yes, yes.
I’ll get your mobile,’ said Morag drying her hands.
‘Where is it?’

‘It’s–’ Nell broke off and doubled over.
‘Argh!’

I rushed to Nell’s side.
‘Look in the kitchen,’ I
flapped an arm at
Morag
.
‘I
t’s usually on the table.’
Nell leant on me heavily.
‘Breathe!’ I instructed.

Morag pushed her way into the kitchen.
Rocket instantly bounded out.

‘Get back in here
you bloody dog!’ yelled Morag.

‘Don’t talk to my boofles like–’ Nell screwed up her face.
‘ARGH,’ she screeched
even louder
.
There was a funny popping sound.
‘Oh
no, I think I’ve wet myself.’

Suddenly amniotic fluid gushed all over the laminate flooring.
Rocket began lapping up the puddle.
Morag
clapped a hand over her mouth.

‘Your dog is seriously gross.
I think I’m going to throw up.’
She flung he
rself into the downstairs loo.

‘I want Ben,’ Nell wailed.
‘It hurts.
I don’t remember it hurtin
g like this when I had Dylan.’

‘Stay there.’
I propped Nell against the wall and charged into the kitchen.
Her mobile phone wasn’t on the table.
My eyes swivelled around the room.
There it was, next to the kettle.
I grabbed it and raced back to Nell.
Shoved
it into her hands.
‘Ring Ben.
And as for you,’ I grabbed Rocket’s collar, ‘out!’
Rocket promptly keeled over making it ex
tremely difficult to move her.

‘Go with Aunty Ca
ss,’ Nell implored the setter.

Rocket was now lying on her back, all four paws up in the air.
I dragged her by the collar backwards.
Bit by bit she slid down the hallway and into the kitchen.
I opened the back door and hauled her unceremoniously into the garden.
Shutting the door firmly behind me, I set about finding a mop and bucket.
Morag emerged from the dow
nstairs loo looking very pale.

‘I feel ill.’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake Morag.
I thought you were mad
e of sterner stuff than this.’

‘I was fine when Henry was born.
But then again, I didn’t look.
Just kept my eyes shut throughout the w
hole thing until it was over.’

‘Go and distract yourself.
Make us some coffee while Nell’s
doing her phone calls.’

‘I don’t want coffee,’ Nell cried, ‘I want Ben.
Ooo
oooh, I think I need the loo.’

I put the mop and
empty
bucket down.
‘Come on,’ I led her t
oward the downstairs toilet.

‘No,’ gasped Nell
.
‘
There’s not enough room
in there for my bump
between the loo and the wash basin
.
I’ll have to go upstairs
.’

‘Right.
Fine.’
I reversed us back along the hallway and headed towards the stairs.
Nell was stabbing her mobile’s touch scree
n as we puffed our way upward.

‘Hello?’ she squawked into the handset
.
‘Ben!
It’s me.
I’m in labour.
Yes of course I’m sure.
My waters have broken.
What do you mean you’re in Cambridgeshire?
Well never mind Mr Bodwin’s emergency.
There’s a far bigger emergency going on
right here in your own home.’

I steered Nell into the bathroom and left her to it.
Back downstairs I filled
the bucket and began mopping.

‘Coffee’s ready,’ said Morag putting mugs on the kitchen table.
‘Where does Nell keep the biscuit tin?
I think I need s
ome carbs to settle my tummy.’

‘On that sh
elf above you.’

There was a crash as Rocket planted two paws either side of the back door.
A red shaggy head appeared in the windowpane.
She clapped eyes on the biscuit ti
n and began licking the glass.

‘That dog is a head case,’ Morag declared.
‘How on earth does Nell think she’s going to manage a newborn with that mutt bouncing all over the place?’

‘I’m sure she’s got it sussed,’ I said, not entirely convinced.
I finished mopping the hallway and then whizzed the squeegee mop around the kitchen floor.
When the last of Rocket’s paw prints were eradicated, I tipped the dirty water down the loo, put away the mop and bucket and washed my hands again.
I took some hurried sips of coffee,
scalding
my mouth in the process.
‘Are you all right up there Nell?’ I
bellowed
.
A series of groans fil
tered down by way of response.