Ice and a Slice (15 page)

Two pizzas – one pepperoni, one Hawaiian – ordered at ten thirty-five the previous night and delivered by Peter. What an amazing thing technology was. Hang on a minute. Hadn’t Derek told her he’d gone out for a pizza? So why would the receipt say it had been delivered? She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and a spark of unease flickered in her stomach. Alison’s favourite pizza was Hawaiian.

It didn’t mean anything. No doubt there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. She went back upstairs and found Derek was fast asleep. Perched on the edge of the bed, she stroked a strand of hair back from his face. “Hey, sleepy head, are you staying there all day?”

“Uh huh,” he mumbled, opening one eye. “Have you brought me a cup of coffee?”

“I’ll make us one in a minute. So what time did Alison come round last night? Was it before you went out with the boys or after?”

“After.”

SJ frowned. “But I thought you said you went to the Jolly Sailor and had a few more in town and then went for a late night pizza.”

“Yeah, we did. What’s with all the questions, SJ?”

“So what time did Alison come over then?”

There was a little silence, and she could feel a nugget of anxiousness building deep within her. Something didn’t add up, but then her brain wasn’t exactly in gear. What she really needed was to catch up on sleep. But Derek still hadn’t answered her question.

“I was quite pissed, SJ. I’m not sure of the times.” He closed his eyes, indicating the discussion was over. SJ wished she could leave it there, but she couldn’t.

She wished Norah had been more specific, but she could hardly nip round and cross-question her… ‘Er, what time exactly was my sister here?’ Although doubtless she’d be able to tell her the exact times of arrival and departure. Norah didn’t have a terribly exciting life. And why was Derek being so evasive? It wasn’t like him.

He couldn’t have anything to hide. Nothing to do with Alison anyway – he didn’t like her much. He’d always agreed with SJ that her sister was deep-down- shallow. In fact, she had a feeling he’d coined the phrase.

Downstairs she paced while she waited for the kettle to boil. Maybe she should give Alison a ring. That would clarify things.

“Hiya, SJ, how’s it going?” Her sister sounded bright and chirpy. “Did you have a good time in Dublin?”

“Yeah – great, thanks. Derek said you’d popped over about Dad’s present.”

“That’s right. I thought we could get him a season ticket for the Saints. What do you think? Mum said he’d like one, but they’re quite expensive.”

“Good idea.” SJ was burning to ask what time Alison had come over, but she didn’t want to admit she didn’t know. She cleared her throat and heard herself saying, in a voice so casual she couldn’t believe it was hers, “Did you enjoy the pizza?”

“Er – yes, it was scrummy, thanks. Look, I’ve got to go, SJ – the kids are fighting. Speak soon. Byee.”

SJ disconnected, feeling cold. Why would Derek say he’d had pizza in town with the boys if he’d had it here with Alison?

Her heart was thudding. Her heart knew there was a problem before her hungover brain had latched on to what it was. Irritated, she stomped into the kitchen and made some coffee.

The phone rang.

“Hi, SJ, it’s – um – Chalky here, is Derek about?”

“He’s asleep,” she murmured, wondering if Chalky had been one of the lads Derek had been out with. Probably – Chalky never missed an excuse for a good piss-up.

“Okay, no worries, I just – um – wanted to let him know I’ve got that Bond film he was after. I can drop it over if he’s in a rush. Otherwise I’ll see him Tuesday.”

“Couldn’t you have given it to him last night?” SJ blurted out, wishing she could think of a more subtle way of asking him if he’d been out with Derek, but unable to come up with anything at such short notice.

“Well, um - yeah – if I’d seen him last night. But – durr – I didn’t, did I? He said he’d had enough at lunchtime and sodded off early. Flamin’ lightweight!”

“Oh,” SJ said, feeling faint. “Right, Chalky. Thanks, I’ll tell him you called.”

She marched upstairs, but in the doorway of their bedroom, she hesitated. Derek was still asleep on his back, half covered by the duvet, one hand flung back on the pillow like a child’s. The midday sunlight slanted across his muscled upper body and highlighted his sculpted cheekbones and the lighter bits in his brown hair where he’d been out in the sun. As she stood there gazing at him, she felt a rush of love so intense she could have wept.

He loved her. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wouldn’t betray her – he surely wouldn’t have anything to do with Alison. Derek was well aware of how she felt about her sister. Yet something was wrong.

Her heart was still on triple time. A giant hand twisted her intestines and squeezed at her bowels. At best he wasn’t telling her the full story about Alison’s visit. And at worst he was lying. Why?

Chapter Seventeen

Yet she knew the real reason she didn’t confront him about Alison was that she was scared. More than scared: she was terrified. A fear that stretched right back to her childhood coiled and uncoiled inside her like some giant malevolent snake.

She thought back across the years. There had been a few times when Alison had inadvertently messed things up for her. She thought about the beach party at Sandbanks and the way Alison had mucked things up between her and Jed.

There had been other occasions too. Once they’d both gone to a 21st birthday party and the cream top SJ had been planning to wear ended up with a mysterious stain across the front. And another time she’d brought a group of friends back from college for an impromptu party and Alison had been ill with such a bad headache that Mum had told them they’d all have to leave.

And then of course there was her wedding, which she’d had to postpone because Alison needed to get married first. No, that was crazy. Alison hadn’t meant to get pregnant – obviously. SJ had always given her sister the benefit of the doubt, but suddenly everything seemed to make a horrible kind of sense. Alison was jealous of her. She didn’t like SJ having something she couldn’t share or didn’t already have.

SJ blinked away these uneasy thoughts. Alison wouldn’t make a move on Derek – surely she wouldn’t. That was too big a quantum leap. She was being irrational and paranoid.

For a start, Alison was happily married. Or was she? SJ had never questioned it before because Alison had always seemed settled with Clive. But settled wasn’t the same as happy, was it? Perhaps she just put up with him because he was the father of her kids.

She’d only been seventeen when she’d had Sophie, but SJ still didn’t really know whether Alison and Clive had got married because they wanted to or because Dad had threatened to knock Clive’s block off if he didn’t face up to his responsibilities.

“A wedding made in heaven,” their mother had crooned, as Alison floated down the aisle in fraudulent white. But then their mother would say that – she’d had to get married young herself – and she’d always loved her youngest daughter best.

SJ gave herself a little shake. She knew that was unfair; Mum had always tried to treat her daughters the same. And actually when Alison got pregnant so young it had changed things between them. SJ had felt a rush of almost maternal love as Alison’s belly expanded week by week. And it had been SJ who’d held her hand when her waters had broken and she’d been scared witless. And SJ who’d sat in the delivery room while Alison screamed for more pain relief and called the midwife every name under the sun.

Okay, so they’d drifted apart again since then; they still bickered and fought, mostly because they didn’t have an awful lot in common, but surely Alison wouldn’t hit on her husband? Unless, of course, she really was unhappy with Clive…

In the end, SJ could bear her churning fears and restless paranoia no longer. It was half term, which didn’t help – she decided to ignore the piles of marking she was supposed to be doing and pop round to her sister’s for a little chat.

She might not be able to confront Derek, but she was pretty sure Alison would let something slip – that’s if there was anything to let slip. And if there wasn’t then she could stop torturing herself and life could get back to normal.

Alison answered the door with a tea towel in her hands and a guarded expression in her blue eyes. Or so it seemed to SJ, whose internal radar was on full alert.

“Well, well, and to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I thought I’d come round and give you the money for Dad’s season ticket,” SJ announced as she strolled into Alison’s sunny kitchen.

“Where are the kids?” she queried. Was her sister deliberately not meeting her eyes, or was she imagining it?

“Clive’s taken them to his mum’s for half term. He thought I needed a break and Joyce can’t get enough of her grandchildren. She soon would if she had them all the time, I can tell you.” She raked a hand through her immaculate highlighted hair. “It’s hard work being a full time mother.”

“I bet,” SJ said, glancing at a pile of fashion and beauty magazines on the kitchen table.

“I’m thinking of having hair extensions,” Alison said, following her gaze. “What do you reckon? I’ve always fancied long hair, but I’m just too busy to grow it.”

SJ couldn’t imagine how being busy could stop your hair growing. It was hardly something you had to have an active role in. Didn’t hair just get on with the business of growing all by itself? But she nodded anyway. If she was going to have a heart-to-heart with Alison, they needed to start off on a good footing.

“When did he go?” she asked idly.

“Saturday morning. I thought I’d miss them, but I can’t say I have. It’s been bliss having a bit of time to myself.” Alison stretched her hands above her head and smiled, her blue eyes as innocent as a baby’s. “So what have you been up to, SJ? How’s that hunky husband of yours?”

“You know how he is, you saw him on Saturday. I think he enjoyed having a weekend to himself, too. Plenty of time to get drunk without me nagging.”

“Mmm.” Alison tilted her face up to the sun that streamed in her back door and closed her eyes.

“Was he drunk when you saw him?” SJ asked casually.

“Pretty much.” Alison giggled. “Men are funny when they’re pissed, aren’t they? Clive gets all morose, but your Derek’s a right laugh.”

A spike of jealousy seared SJ’s stomach like a branding iron. She didn’t want to think of Alison and Derek having a laugh when she wasn’t there.

“He never takes anything seriously,” she said.

“So I noticed.” Alison’s silvery laugh tinkled out. “He was clowning around pretending to be a drunk. He’s great at impressions, isn’t he?”

“By the sound of it he didn’t need to pretend much.” SJ wondered how drunk Derek had actually been. He had quite a high tolerance level – they both did; going to pubs was their main social life.

“So how come you ended up staying for pizza?”

“Oh well, the poor love hadn’t eaten all day. I was just doing my sisterly duty, what with you being away and that. I know you’d do the same for me.”

SJ couldn’t imagine sharing pizza with the morose Clive, who she’d always thought was old before his time.

“I take it you weren’t drunk as well,” she queried, feeling the twinges of jealousy increase and concentrating hard on a picture of a leggy blonde on the cover of one of Alison’s magazines, which didn’t help at all.

“Me? No – I was stone cold sober. I had to drive home. I never miss the kids’ bedtimes.”

They must have pretty late bedtimes, SJ thought, remembering what time the pizzas had been ordered. She blinked.

“Hang on a minute. I thought you said Clive went to his mum’s on Saturday morning?”

“Did I say Saturday morning? I meant Sunday morning.” Alison’s eyes widened in feigned innocence, but she couldn’t resist a smirk, and suddenly SJ was sure she was lying. There was something going on. She was certain of it. Every instinct she had told her she was being taken for a fool.

“You stayed the night, didn’t you?” She hadn’t planned to come out with it like that, but her sister’s flippancy was getting to her. “I know you did. Our next door neighbour saw you on Sunday morning. She told me.”

Alison chewed her bottom lip, and SJ was reminded of a thousand other times she’d seen that look. Usually when her sister was trying to think up a good enough excuse to get herself off the hook for something she’d done, or not done, for which she didn’t want to get the blame.

“Okay, so I stayed the night. So what? It was getting late and I did have a couple of glasses of wine. Derek thought I might be over the limit. So he insisted. What’s the big deal?”

“Well, that depends on where you stayed,” SJ said, her mouth so dry she could hardly form the words.

“I’ve had enough of this.” Alison stood up and sashayed across to the open door. “What do you take me for, Sarah-Jane? I’d hardly dump on my own back doorstep.”

“Just tell me where you slept.” SJ hated herself for begging. “And why you lied about it in the first place.”

“I lied because I knew you’d go off on one – exactly like you ARE doing. And I slept on the settee – where do you think I slept? Contrary to what you might think, your husband isn’t that much of a catch. The whole world isn’t trying to get into Derek Anderson’s Armanis ... I saw them on the line,” she added, fractionally too late for this to have been true.

SJ felt sick. Even though a part of her had suspected it, knowing for sure was something else. It was like being hit by an articulated truck. She was glad she was sitting down, or she’d have keeled over right there on her sister’s sunshine-yellow laminate floor.

“You’re lying,” she whispered. “You slept with him. You slept in our bed. How could you do that?”

There was a long pause. Alison stared out of the window. Finally, she turned her gaze back to SJ. “Oh for goodness’ sake, okay, but it didn’t mean anything. We were legless. I don’t suppose he can remember much.” A small smile played around her lips. “That’s probably why he didn’t tell you.”

“You bitch.” SJ leapt out of her chair and lunged across the kitchen, but she hadn’t got full control of her legs and instead of grabbing Alison around the throat, which had been her intention, she found herself stumbling and ending up on her knees on the floor.

As she scrambled to her feet again, still intent on doing damage – a lot of damage – Alison sidestepped nimbly away from her, the smugness on her face replaced by a look of alarm. The voice of reason was pounding through the anger in SJ’s head. Beating Alison to a pulp would be very satisfying, but it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change the fact that Derek had betrayed her. It wouldn’t alter what had happened on Saturday night.

She sagged into a chair and covered her face with her hands as her world caved in around her. For the first time in her life, she’d felt as though she had something her sister couldn’t take, something beautiful and precious that belonged just to her. Derek was her soul mate, her true love, her raison d’etre. She thought he’d felt the same about her. But she’d been wrong.

When she finally looked up, it was to see Alison back on the other side of the kitchen with the table safely between them, her eyebrows arched in a look somewhere between amazement and concern.

“If it’s any consolation, I can see why you’re so enamoured,” she murmured sympathetically. “He may not be much to look at – but he’s quite something, isn’t he? In the bedroom department, I mean. Quite the little dynamo. You’d never guess by looking at him.”

SJ didn’t remember leaving the house, only that she was suddenly outside and in her car. She put the key in the ignition, but she was shaking too much to drive. For an indeterminate amount of time she sat rigid, watching people drive by in their cars, or stroll past with their kids and their shopping.

Life swarmed on around her, even though her world had just shattered. How could she stay married to Derek knowing that Alison had lain with him, skin to skin, had held him, touched him, and enjoyed him while still managing to disparage him? It made their love seem somehow surprising, as well as sordid and worthless.

SJ had always felt she wasn’t quite good enough for Derek. A part of her was sure she hadn’t deserved to find someone so right for her; a part of her had been afraid it was too good to be true. Life didn’t get that perfect.

Now she knew she’d been right. It didn’t. She remembered with a knife-like thrust of pain how he’d changed the sheets – how he’d laid her tenderly beneath that hideous purple duvet because he and Alison had dirtied the only matching duvet set they had. Their beautiful pale green honeymoon set. And somehow that was worse than everything else he’d done. It was the ultimate betrayal.