Red Letter Day (4 page)

'That was very naughty, Josh,' she'd said, her voice sharp.

Marina raised an eyebrow. 'It was an accident, Mum.'

'He shouldn't have been in there,' Kay had hissed. 'Didn't you notice that room?'

Marina shrugged. 'It's positively dreary. I keep telling Celine she should dump the furniture and give it a lick of paint.'

Kay blanched. 'Oh, Marina, really!'

Celine arrived back and flashed a tight smile at them. 'No harm done. I can easily get a new frame.'

'There, Mum, stop fussing.'

Kay bit her lip and glared at her grandson.

'It's fine, Kay, really,' Celine assured her.

And that had been that. But Kay noticed that Celine had kept the door firmly shut on all of their visits since and probably locked if she had any sense.

Kay finished hoovering Josh's crumbs and plumped the cushions on her sofa. She pulled back as her hand came in contact with something cold and sticky and groaned as, on closer inspection, it turned out to be jelly — no wonder Josh had finished his dessert so quickly. 'Little terror,' she muttered and went to fetch water and a cloth. Again.

Celine stood in line at the checkout in the small supermarket. 'Hi.' She smiled at the woman in front who'd turned to stare.

The woman turned away and Celine saw the look that passed between her and the checkout girl.

She kept the smile plastered on her face until she got outside. 'Silly old cows, nothing better to do with their time,' she muttered as she staggered down the road with her bags. She'd avoided the local shop lately but today she'd had to venture out to get detergent, polish and cloths in order to give the house a good clean before she moved out. She managed to cover the short distance home and get inside the safety of her hall door without meeting any other neighbours. She groaned when she saw the distinctive red envelope lying on the mat — not another one. After unpacking, she went out to the hall and picked it up. She considered throwing it in the bin without opening it but she knew that, before the night was out, she'd go rummaging for it. As usual, it contained one white piece of notepaper with one typewritten line. WHY STAY WHERE YOU'RE NOT WANTED? She tossed it on to the table and slumped into a chair. No matter how much she tried to dismiss these notes that appeared once or twice a week now, they unnerved her. She didn't believe Eileen Gilligan was the culprit. As she had demonstrated that night in the golf club, she was a woman who believed in the direct approach. It could be one of her well-meaning cronies of course — there were plenty of them. Her father would be horrified if he knew about the hate mail but she wouldn't tell him. She'd caused enough trouble already. The phone rang and she decided to let the machine answer. She listened as her voice asked the caller to leave a message after the tone. There was a short pause and then a nervous cough. 'Ms Moore, this is Audrey Thomas from the Willows Golf Club. Just to advise you that the committee have decided that it would be better if you didn't come to the clubhouse for now. If you have any queries or questions, please put them in writing to the captain James Fairchild or myself. Thank you.'

'God almighty, the sooner I get out of this place the better!' Celine laughed but there were tears in her eyes.

She took a can of beer from the fridge and went into what Dermot had laughingly called his study. As she unlocked the door she remembered the day that Josh had broken the picture frame and how she'd cried herself to sleep that night. Thankfully she wasn't quite as emotional these days. Celine sat down in Dermot's battered leather chair — he'd picked it up at a car boot sale — and gazed around the room that she'd never changed. The walls were covered with pictures of colleagues and patients, some of the latter now also dead. Dermot hadn't been able to help everyone but it wasn't for the lack of trying. He had known from an early age that he wanted to help people. His career guidance officer at school suggested social work. Celine had cursed that teacher many times since but she knew that Dermot wouldn't have been happy doing anything else. Not that he was ever
really
happy — he had cared too much. He had been frustrated by the lack of funds, the helplessness of the police when it came to domestic disputes, the red tape involved in rescuing kids from parents that abused them. Every day was a battle for Dermot. Celine studied the awards on the wall that lauded his dedication and felt tears prick her eyes. Poor Dermot. He was way too young to die. Everyone had told her she should be very proud of him. They said what a special man he'd been, that he was a hero. Celine had thanked them, nodded, smiled, but sometimes, when she felt really low, she thought that her husband had been a selfish bloody fool. He shouldn't have died. He shouldn't have even been there that night. Why did he have to play the hero? Why hadn't he thought of his own safety? Why hadn't he thought of her? Why had he made her a widow at just twenty-one? But it was a long time ago now and she knew she had to move on. Maybe Eileen Gilligan had done her a favour.

She picked up the wedding photo that sat on the desk. Dermot was standing behind her and she was leaning back against him. She was smiling into the camera and he was smiling down at her. It was a happy photo; it had been a happy day. Her dad had forked out a small fortune for the reception and everyone had said what a perfect couple they made. 'Perfect,' she murmured, setting the photo back on the desk. She looked at the books and papers that littered the room and mused that she really should clear it all out. One of Dermot's colleagues had taken away any papers relating to his patients but it had barely put a dent in the data that Dermot had surrounded himself with. There were articles, magazines, notes scribbled to himself — these would be the most difficult to discard. When Celine looked at the familiar large untidy scrawl it made her heart beat faster and for a second it was as if he was still here. She stood up and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her. She would clean it out but not today.

As she stood in the hallway, beer in hand, the doorbell buzzed and, realising that she was visible through the frosted glass, she reluctantly went to answer it. Who would it be, she wondered. A personal visit from the lady captain or more harassment from the local kids? She flung open the door, ready for battle. 'Kevin!'

He smiled. 'Hi, honey, I'm home.'

'Are you mad?' she hissed, dragging him inside and closing the door. 'What if someone sees you?'

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. 'I parked in the next road and walked up the lane. No one saw me.'

Celine groaned as his hands slipped under her shirt and opened her bra with one expert click. 'Marina could have been here, or my dad.'

'No cars outside,' he murmured as he kissed her neck.

'Eileen is probably having you followed,' she protested, but her eyes were closed and she leaned into him, willing him to continue.

'Forget about Eileen.' He moved towards the stairs, dragging her after him. 'We've got some catching up to do.'

And putting Eileen, her dad and Brenda out of her mind, Celine allowed him to lead her upstairs.

Celine stared at the ceiling and listened to Kevin's quiet snores. It was almost midnight and she'd have to waken him soon. She felt more relaxed and at peace than she had in days. Mindless, passionate sex did that for her — at least with Kevin it did. She turned to look at the long dark lashes that farmed his tanned face and marvelled at the slight smile that played around his lips even in sleep. He was an attractive man who always seemed to be in good humour despite his wife's reported nagging. Though nearly thirty-eight, his body was fit and muscular and Celine knew that there were plenty of women who'd happily change places with her. She was ready for someone else to take over as Kevin Gilligan's mistress although she knew she would miss him. She did not love him but when she was in his arms, when he made love to her, she was happy.

Kevin stirred and opened his eyes. 'What are you thinking about?'

Celine raised herself up on her elbow and stared down at him. 'What a nut you are to have come here.'

Kevin leaned over and kissed her breast. 'But a lovable nut.'

'Don't you ever feel guilty?' she marvelled.

'Not any more.'

'What about your wife, your kids?'

Kevin looked away, his face grim. 'My wife is happy once she's got plenty of money to spend and as for my kids, I'm a bloody good father.'

Celine hugged him. 'I know you are.'

He kissed her lips. 'Look, Celine, everything will be fine. We just need to be a bit more careful.'

Celine sat up, shaking her head. 'No, Kevin. Did you know that I've been told to stay away from the golf club
and
someone is writing me nasty letters?'

Kevin's eyes widened. 'God, what a parochial little place Killmont is.'

'What a small-minded, sexist little place, you mean. They want to rim me out of town and they turn a blind eye to anything you do.'

'Yeah, great, isn't it?'

Celine poked him in the stomach. 'I've decided to leave.'

Kevin raised an eyebrow. 'Leave?'

'I've got a job running a boutique in Hopefield. I'll be living over the shop.'

'That's great, Celine! Now we'll be able to see each other more often.'

Celine looked away. 'I don't think that's such a good idea.'

'Of course it's a good idea. We're good together, Celine, you know we are.' Kevin pulled her on top of him and buried his face in her hair.

'We don't have time for this,' she protested as his body started to move against hers.

'No,' he agreed and kissed her hungrily.

'You should be going.'

'Yeah.' He rolled her over and moved on top of her.

Celine closed her eyes and let her body take over.

Alan put down his paper with a sigh and looked at his wife. She'd rearranged the flowers in the lounge and the dining room twice already and now she was rubbing at a stain on the carpet that was at least two years old. 'Why don't you call her?' he said gently.

Brenda didn't even look up. 'Never.'

'But, Brenda—'

'Leave it, Alan, please.'

'But I hate to see you so upset.'

'I am not upset, I'm angry and disgusted.' Brenda sat back on her heels and pushed her hair back off her flushed face. 'I never want to talk to the girl again.'

'That's a bit harsh. It's been six years!'

'This is nothing to do with Dermot. My poor brother is not responsible for his wife committing adultery.'

Alan sighed. 'All I'm saying is she must have been lonely.'

Brenda shot him a look of disgust. "Being lonely is no excuse to sleep with a married man. Trust you to take her side.'

Alan threw down his paper and stood up. I'm not taking sides, in fact I'm not going to say another bloody word. I'm going to the golf club.'

Brenda closed her eyes as the front door banged. She really shouldn't be taking it out on Alan but he just didn't understand how betrayed she felt. She went outside and looked impatiently around her tidy kitchen. She needed to keep busy but she'd already cleaned the fridge out, scrubbed the cooker — although as she'd only cleaned it last week there wasn't that much scrubbing to be done — and the floor was polished to the point of being dangerous. 'Scones,' she murmured and went to fetch the ingredients. She turned the oven on to warm, took a large bowl from the cupboard and switched on the radio to Forever FM. They played all Eighties stuff on Saturday mornings which she could at least hum along to. After measuring in the flour and adding the sugar, eggs and milk she started to mix and felt the calm descend on her. Yoga might relax some people but baking did it for Brenda every time. She had some cooking apples so she could make apple crumble too — Alan loved that and it would make up for her snapping at him this morning. And she'd make a ginger cake for Frank. Usually she'd make two — the other one for Celine — but not any more.

She rolled the dough, cut out the scones and slipped the tray into the oven before cleaning her bowl and starting on the cake. Celine would have to buy her own bread and cakes from now on.
And
she'd have to find someone else to make her curtains or advise her on how to get red wine out of wool trousers. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes and pulling out a handkerchief she blew her nose. She shouldn't waste any tears on the girl. How would poor Frank hold his head up in the golf club after this? Celine couldn't have embarrassed him more if she'd done a striptease on the table.

Brenda took the scones out of the oven and put them on to a tray to cool. Celine should have thought about her family before hopping into bed with Kevin Gilligan. She'd behaved disgracefully and hadn't even had the decency to do it with a stranger. She had to carry on her dirty little affair in the middle of Killmont, amongst all their friends. No matter what Alan said, she would never forgive Celine.

Alan teed off and smiled slightly as his ball went high and straight.

'Nice shot.' Frank stuck his tee in the ground.

'How's Celine?'

Frank swung his club and cursed under his breath as the ball swerved off to the left and into the rough. 'I don't know and, to be honest, I'm not sure I even care at the moment. She wants to come round later and talk.'

'Brenda is very upset too,' Alan said as they walked down the course. 'I've tried to calm her down but I always seem to say the wrong thing.'

It wasn't until they'd finished playing the hole that Frank spoke again. 'I wish I knew why she did it.'

'Maybe she loves him,' Alan suggested.

'Bollocks!' Frank hissed. 'She wouldn't love a sleazy git like him. Oh God, it's an awful mess. You know he has three kids.'

'I know, but from what I've heard the marriage isn't great and Celine wasn't the first.'

'That's no excuse,' Frank retorted. 'I don't know what the hell she thought she was playing at.'

'The only way you're going to find out is if you talk to her,' Alan pointed out.

Frank sighed. 'I suppose you're right.'

'Let's have dinner at the club tonight.'