Название | Who Needs Men Anyway? |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Victoria Cooke |
Жанр | Контркультура |
Серия | |
Издательство | Контркультура |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9780008274580 |
The speeches ended and as the music started, I saw Lauren heading over. Great. ‘Charlotte, I felt terrible about your little event failing today. It’s partly my fault, clashing the dates like that. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.’ She placed a dramatic hand on her brow. ‘I just hope my influence helps your cause.’
‘Oh, Lauren, I’m sure it will and honestly, don’t worry, organisation is quite a skill. We can’t all be good at everything all of the time.’ I managed a tight-lipped smile.
Lauren nodded courteously. ‘Well, everything else has gone so well, I can forgive myself one little slip-up.’
‘Ha-ha yes.’ I laughed. ‘Probably just your age.’ I batted a hand flippantly to indicate to the bridge ladies I was teasing but it didn’t appear as though any of them were listening.
Lauren laughed nervously. ‘Always the joker.’ She glanced around the table and when nobody was paying attention she leaned in closer. ‘But the jokes are on you. You’re a failure; everyone can see that and now you’re here alone, sat on a table of old biddies because not even your husband wants to be around you.’ My heart beat furiously, so quick and powerful it reached my ears drowning everything else out. I couldn’t think or speak.
Lauren turned to leave, smirking. I couldn’t let her walk off, thinking she’d won – and what popped out of my mouth next was neither well-thought-out nor elegant but knowing the ladies around the table wouldn’t understand, I went ahead anyway.
‘Hey, Lauren, stunning vajazzle by the way. How brave of you to show it off – good on you!’ I stared pointedly at her receding hemline, which she tugged down on self-consciously as her face reddened.
‘I think you should call a cab home. You’ve obviously drunk too much champagne – though it is free so who can blame you.’ With that she stalked off.
I sat there for a moment, processing what had just happened and regret started to mount. Oh God. I threw my head in my hands. Why did I have to say that? I was sure there’d be consequences, not least because vajazzling was so 2011 and she wouldn’t be seen dead with one. I sighed before pulling out my phone and calling the chauffeur company. As I stood up to leave I heard the elderly lady with the hearing aid say a little too loudly to her friend, ‘Vaahjazzle, is that a new designer? I do like to keep up.’ Oh bugger, I thought. Now she turns her hearing aid up.
***
I picked Megan up at her house and we went to the huge fitness warehouse on the outskirts of town. As Megan wandered around the leg extension and reformer machines, I observed her, oblivious to what she would soon find out. My heart ached for her as she seemed such a sweet, innocent soul. Not like the women at the charity ball – though I think it was safe to say I was well and truly out of that group. I bumped into Emmy in Budgen’s and said hello but she stone-cold blanked me. She just walked past with her chin up high as if I wasn’t there. She was like some queen-bee cast member from Mean Girls.
I probably should have cared more but I had a family to make and cheaters to catch. They could go about saving themselves from the perils of bad surgery and I’d focus on my business. James wouldn’t be impressed when all the men found out but I’d deal with that issue when it arose.
‘The half Cadillac and reformer bundle package would be your best bet,’ Megan mused, breaking my thoughts. ‘You don’t need one though. Honestly, you always throw money at things and you don’t need to.’
‘It looks great. Let’s order that one.’ It was quite expensive for equipment she’d ignore anyway but needs must. ‘Megan, let me take you for some dinner as a thank you.’ I used my special I-won’t-take-no-for-an-answer tone.
She pursed her lips for a moment to consider. ‘That would be lovely. Mike is in London this weekend with work so it would just have been me, a takeaway, and Britain’s Got Talent.’
London? Pah! What, at a tile conference? How can she not see what he’s up to?
‘Somewhere that does a good cocktail would be nice,’ she added, breaking my thoughts.
Great food, cocktails, and cheating bastard men. ‘Brilliant. I know just the place.’
The Halcyon Hotel was just as swish as I’d remembered, with its dark, luxurious wallpaper and gold and silver accessories. The doorman wore a smart grey uniform, complemented by a top hat, and held the door open for us as we walked in.
‘This is nice,’ Megan said, drawing out the word nice in a way that might have been annoying had I not felt so sorry for her in anticipation of what was to come. I just smiled and nodded in response.
‘Head to the bar and I’ll see about a table in the restaurant.’ I pointed her in the right direction.
The restaurant was dead, but the waitress still kept me waiting whilst she decided if she could seat us. If eating there wasn’t part of my plan to catch Moonlighting Mike, I’d have left. Mike was nowhere to be seen, but the waitress decided she could, in fact, accommodate a table for two after umming and ahhing, then consulting with a higher power, despite the fact the place was empty. At least my plan was on track. I knew the chances were good that Mike and waitress-woman would be dining there at some point, since an early bird dinner was part of the package and that was due to start soon. I’d just have to drag the meal out, which wouldn’t be too difficult.
I strode into the bar, ready to settle in for a long evening, but Megan wasn’t there. I scanned the room quickly and then checked the ladies’ loos, stopping for a quick pump of Molton Brown hand cream. But she wasn’t there either. It was odd. I stood in the lobby and started to feel confused. My heart rate even picked up a little. I was so close. Where the bloody hell had she gone?
The doorman popped his head inside. ‘Excuse me, madam, are you looking for your friend? She just left. She was in quite a hurry.’
Left? Why would she leave? ‘Okay, thank you.’ I forced a smile, yet everything else sagged. I’d been so close, yet for a second time, I’d failed. I knew I could be a little irritating at times but just ditching me seemed harsh. She’d better have a good excuse. Since I was there and the pornstar martinis were apparently the best in Manchester, I decided one couldn’t hurt and traipsed back into the bar and perched on a stool – James would be out or barricaded in his office anyway.
The room was dimly lit in a typically modern boutique style. It followed the same colour scheme as the rest of the hotel – rich grey-brown-coloured walls and metallic features. It was nice, although it was probably a clever Las-Vegas-style sales tactic to trick you into thinking it was evening any time of the day. The barman placed my drink down, and as I took my first sip, I glanced around to take in the rest of the room. That’s when I saw it.
A disgusting entanglement of two very deceptive people.
‘I didn’t know where else to go,’ Megan sobbed as I opened my door to her much earlier than she was due to arrive.
‘Oh, Megan, what’s the matter?’ I asked, bracing myself. She fanned her face with her hand, unable to speak, so I ushered her inside. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
She sat at the breakfast bar and I looked her over discreetly. She was a shadow of herself. Her eyes were marred by dark circles, and her face was pink and blotchy. Her sandy-brown hair looked unwashed and hung limply around her face. She scraped it back, taking a hair tie off her wrist to secure it in a messy ponytail, then slumped back into the chair,