Lipstick and Lies (28 page)

‘The
Oxo
Tower
,’ said Jamie.
‘So you make sure,’ my husband turned to me, ‘that you buy yourself a rocking frock, okay?
Nothing but the best for Mrs Mackerel.’
My husband fished
in his back pocket
for his wallet
,
and pulled out a wad of notes.

‘Thanks darling.
’
I took the money
,
and kissed my husband’s cheek.

‘Oh God,’ Matt inserted his key into the lock, ‘don’t tell Mrs Harding or I’ll never hear
the end of it.’

The front door opened before Matt could turn the key.
‘Never hear the end of what?’
asked
Morag
.

I smiled.
‘I’m going shopping.
Want to come?’

Morag snorted.
‘With Henry and Eddie?
Not likely.
I
f I’m going shopping I’ll want to try on
dresses
, a
nd h
ave a civilised coffee in John Lewis.
Not spend my time char
g
ing in and out
of
assorted
mother and baby rooms
,
suffering
on
e interruption after another.’

‘The boys
can stay with us,’ said Matt.

I looked at Jamie.
‘Is that all right with you?’

‘Of course.
Go on.
Take the money and r
un.’

‘Wha
t money?’ asked Morag beadily.

‘Here you are,’ Matt sighed and pulled out his wallet.
‘That’s the livery money for Snowden’s stabling.
Don’t spend it all at once.’

‘I will,’ Morag blew Matt a kiss.
‘Come on Cass.
Freedom beckons.’

Minutes later we were in Morag’s spotless Ford Galaxy heading along the motorway to
Fairview
.
On the way I brought Morag up to speed regarding the impending dinn
er date with Ethan and Selina.

‘I’m sure everything will be fine,’ Morag
soothed
.

‘
And
I’m sure it won’t,’ I gazed stonily out the window.
We were overtaking a
red Astravan.
At that moment, the driver glanced sideways.
Flashed a puzzled look
.
I stared back.
Frowned.
He looked familiar.
Morag edged the Galaxy past.
‘I’ve said it before,’ my neck swivelled slightly as I held the driver’s gaze, ‘
and I’ll
say it again
.
I don’t trust
Selina
as far as I can throw her.’

Morag grinned.
‘All the same, I can’t wait
to hear how the evening goes!’

The
Astra
van appeared to now be accelerating, closing the distance between our respective vehicles.
‘By the way,’ I
continued staring
at the driver, ‘we’re meeting at Nell’s tomorrow morning for Hob Nobs and a post-mortem on the evening
.
’
The van driver and I recognised each other at exactly the same moment.
He levelled alongside the Galaxy.
A synchronised buzzi
ng down of windows took place.

‘Nice to see you’ve
given up driving,’ he shouted.

‘Nice to be o
vertaking you,’ I yelled back.

‘Cass?’ Morag risked taking her eyes off the road
.
‘W
hat the devil are you
playing at
?
Put the window up.
You’re freezing my tits off.’

‘You’re a silly
tart!’ yelled the van driver.

‘And you’re a stupid fart.’

‘Bitch!’

‘Bastard!’

‘Right you fucking cow
– I’
m coming after you!’

‘CASS!
PUT THE FRIGGING WINDOW UP!’ Morag
roared just
as the van driver panned the floor and pulled out on us.
Morag swerved to avoid
a collision
.
Fortunately there was nothing travelling close behind us.
‘For Christ’s sake Ca
ss, what the hell’s going on?’

‘Shit.
I was
n’t expecting him to do that.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Somebody I had an exchange of words with on New Year’s Eve.
He gave me a mouthful when I was drivin
g home from Tesco too slowly.’

‘Great.
So now I have to deal with a road rage lunatic in front of me.
Why did
you have to answer him back?’

‘I guess I was a bit f
ired up talking about Selina.’

‘Well isn’t this just fab,’ Morag growled as she hit the brakes
,
thus avoiding crashing into the back of the van.
‘He’s
now
playing stop-start silly buggers.
Right.
He’s winding me up now.
Enough
.
’
S
he tooted her horn.
The van blared back.
‘Time to ditch this guy.’

Morag edged out enough to be seen in the van driver’s wing mirror
,
and then indicated right.
The
van
immediately pulled out to block her from overtaking.
Whereupon Morag checked her rear-view mirror for traffic coming up behind.
There was none within striking distance.
Still indicating right, she
instead
chucked a sharp left.
We took off down a slip road leaving the motorway altogether.
The
Astra
van sailed on.
Furious that he’d been outwitted, a horn filtered back to us.

Morag took her foot off the accelerator.
The Galaxy’s
speedometer instantly dropped.

‘Geez Cass.
These days, w
henever I’m with you
,
I seem to be running away from burly men.’
Morag checked some signs at a roundabout
before turning left
.

‘Nonsense,’ I could feel myself
bristling.

‘Yeah?
I s
eem to remember it was only five minutes ago we were
holed up in
a
Wendy House on stilts
in a kids’ playground.’

I sighed.
‘That wasn’t my fault.
It was Rocket’s.’

‘Yes
,
b
ut you were in charge of her.’

‘Correction.
We
were in charge of
her.’

‘Well if you
could
just stay out of trouble for five minutes while we go shopping
, I’d quite
like a civilised few hours.’

‘Sorry,’ I huffed.

‘Forgiven
.
’
Morag guided
the Galaxy into one of the many car parks at
Fairview
.
‘A
nd stop sulking.’

‘I’
m not sulking!’ I sulked.

‘I’ll buy you
coffee if you drop the strop.’

‘Okay,’ I perked up.

We made our way into
Fairview
,
and
immediately headed to Costa’s.

‘So we’re meeting at Nell’s tomorrow morning?’ Morag stirred a sweetener into her black coffee.

‘Yes.
We’d better buy
a new
baby
gift for
Rosie while we’re here.’

‘Good thinking.
I must say, I’m looking forward to seeing
little
Rosie and having a cuddle.
I’ve been
feeling quite broody lately.’

I stared at Morag aghast.
‘You’ve got to be kidding.
How can you feel broody wh
en you’ve barely given birth?’

Morag shrugged.
‘I don’t know.
I guess it’s my hormones.
Apart from anything else, I don’t want a big age gap be
tween Henry and the next one.’

‘Henry is only four months old.
I thought you’d wait at least a couple of years before even thinking about nap
pies and broken nights again.’

‘We’ll see.
Anyway, getting back to tomorrow.
I’ll pick you up.
I want to be sure that if we bump into Mr Van Driver again
,
I’m
behind the wheel.’

‘Are you implying I’m no good at driving?’ I spooned
the
foam
up
from my cappuccino.

‘Let’s just say you’d never make a
great
g
etaway
d
river.’

I shrugged.
My days of being a girl
-
racer were long over.
However, my days of being able to rev up in other areas clearly had some mileage left on the clock.
I grinned to myself as I thought
of
this mornin
g’s bedroom antics with Jamie.

‘Why are you looking so secretive all
of a sudden?’ demanded Morag.

I blushed.
‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t give me that.
You’re all pink in the face.
It’s to do with sex isn’t it?’ Morag peered at me.
‘Did
you have a bonk this morning?’

To our right, a
pair of permed pensioners th
rew Morag a disapproving look.

‘Morag
,
please
!’ I whispered.

‘I was right!’ Morag crowed.
She banged the table with the palm of one hand.
‘Come on, spill the beans.
There’s
obviously something to tell.’

‘Oh all right,’ I lowered my voice.
‘Ja
mie pretended to be a pirate.’

‘A pirate?’ Morag frowned.

‘Yes.
You know.
Johnny Depp.’

‘Don’t you mean Jack Sparrow?’

‘Him too.
And I was
Penelope
Cruz.
H
is sex slave.’

‘I’m not sure Jack Sparrow had a sex slave
,
Cass.’

‘Well this morning Jack Sparrow DID
,
okay!’
T
his time it was my turn to slap my palm down on the table.
The permed pensioners looked in danger
of swallowing their dentures.

‘Okay.
Keep your cutlass on,’
Morag snorted into her coffee.

‘You shouldn’t be making fun of me,’ I wiped coffee froth off my upper lip, ‘I’m taking a leaf out of your book.
Using my imagination for once.
Getting my eye back on the ball, like you told me to
do
.
And all without the aid o
f herbal sex jollop!’ I cried.

The permed pensioners had had enough and were creaking off, backs as
rigid as their walking sticks.

‘Well I’m very glad to hear you have your mojo back.
Meanwhile drink up
Penelope
.
Retail therapy beckons
.’

We set off to John Lewis and in no time at all had made short work in Glass
and
China
b
uying a gift for Rosie.
Hopping on an escalator, we
alighted in
the Designer section
.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
G
rabbed Morag’s arm.

‘Look!
’ I pointed.
‘
There’s a little black dress over there
with
my name
all over
it.’

‘
You’re right
Cass.
I can see you in that.
Go and try it on.’

Inside the dressing room
,
I eyed my reflection with delight.
What a superb piece of tailored engineering.
Thanks to an in-built bra and girdle, wobbly bits had been moulded and re-positioned.
My boobs looked like they’d been blown up with a bicycle pump and were actually on my chest
,
rather than my navel.
And as for my backside – I turned sideways and preened – definitely Jennifer Lope
z and not Danny DeVito.