The Age of Misadventure

‘That’s what everyone says, but it always ends in the divorce courts.’

‘Don’t you dare, Mum. Dad says you were the one who wouldn’t communicate.’

‘What?’ I hold up the knife I’ve just chopped tomatoes with. ‘He said that?’

‘He said you were bad-tempered and cold – you shut him out.’

‘So he sought love elsewhere?’ Tears spring to my eyes. Of course, it’s because of the onions I’m hacking to pieces.

‘He was lonely.’

I sweep the salad into a bowl and shake it like it’s Terry’s neck. I squeeze mayonnaise on top, like I’m throttling his wife, Alison’s, throat. I wonder why I’m still bothered. It was years ago.

‘Well, I’m just saying, Jade, be careful. Take your time.’

‘Like you’re doing? No relationships at all since Dad? You’re cynical, Mum, and you’re unhappy, so you just don’t want anyone else to be happy.’

My teeth snap together. She’s right. Over the last few years, there’s been no one. I hurl the empty mayonnaise bottle towards the bin. It skims the metal top and clatters on the floor. I know I should say nothing but the words bubble out.

‘Well, don’t come to me, Jade, when you’re broken-hearted and—’

I realise I’ve gone too far. Jade’s staring, her mouth open.

‘Mum. Don’t you want me to be happy?’

I rush over and hug her. She holds her arms out away from me, as if I smell. I sigh.

‘Of course I want you to be happy, Jade. I’m sorry, love. I’m being too protective, aren’t I?’ I feel her nod. ‘Sorry. I’ll start again.’ I move away, go over to the cupboard and pull out a bottle of red wine. ‘Shall we break our no-alcohol-in-the-week rule and crack a bottle open? Toast you and Luis. To love and good times?’

She pulls a face, raises her arms, stretches lean limbs, and for a moment she looks just like Terry.

‘Okay. We need a bit of bonding time, don’t we? But, trust me, Mum. I know what I’m doing. And when you meet Luis, I know you’ll love him.’

I pour wine into two glasses and the soft liquid glug is calming me already.

‘I’m sure I will,’ I tell her, raising the glass and swallowing a huge gulp of Merlot.

The following week flies by. Jade returns on Tuesday, deals with a dozen clients midweek and on Thursday, she’s back on the train to Brighton. On Friday morning, Nanny Basham has an early doctor’s appointment for her heart check-up, so I drive her to the surgery, where she manages to upset the receptionist and antagonise a woman with a fretful baby. I apologise to everyone in the waiting room, and she nags all the way home about the slack state of modern parenting and how the child only needed a comforter to stop it screaming. I nod and concentrate on the road. Nan and Uncle Wilf never had children.

Then we’re busy all day, hardly a moment to stop for breath. Amanda leaves at six, excited about a romantic evening she has planned, and when I go to lock up at seven o’clock, I notice a hunched shape sitting on my front step. Bonnie looks up, her face in shadow, and I open the door and propel her inside. She’s quaking with cold, huddled against her handbag. I shut the front door behind us.

‘Bonnie, what’s the matter? What’s Adie done now?’

She’s shaking. Her eyes leak and her make-up is smudged; the blusher shines livid against the pallor of her face, but the worst thing is the haunted expression in her eyes.

‘He was out until three last night. He said he was at a meeting but he smelled of perfume. I asked him if he’d been with someone else and he said no, but when I kept on nagging him, he said it was just some random woman at a business party and it didn’t matter. He said I shouldn’t make a big deal of it …’

I hug her. ‘Well done for walking out, Bonnie. You’re staying here with me now. How did you get here?’

‘I got a taxi.’

‘From Frodsham?’

‘He has my car keys. He told me I couldn’t leave him. He wouldn’t let me.’

An engine roars and Adie’s car turns into the drive. There’s hardly room for him to park next to my X5, so he leaves his Porsche at a diagonal and throws the door open, marching towards us, his head down like a bull, his bald spot shining pink.

Bonnie hides behind me and he moves towards her but I bar his way.

‘No, Adie.’

It crosses my mind he could simply push me to one side and I’ve no idea why I’m standing between my cowering sister and her tall, smug husband. I put my hands on my hips, lean forwards and impersonate an orangutan. The Alpha female.

‘We can go inside to talk, but I’m telling you now, if you make a scene, I’ll call the police. We do this my way or not at all.’

The blood drains from his face and I breathe out slowly. He nods. His hand clutches a mobile phone. His knuckles are white. He looks at Bonnie.

‘Are you all right, love?’

She nods. I fumble for my keys and stare at him, then her.

‘She’s obviously not all right, Adie. You’ve cheated on her. It’s not acceptable …’ I shake my head. Not acceptable? It’s worse than that.

‘Bonnie, I’ve been so worried. I mean, all this fuss over a silly woman. It was nothing, I swear …’

He ignores me, standing with my hands on my hips, and rushes over to Bonnie, wrapping his arms around her. His fingers move to her wrist, over the gold charms on her bracelet, and back to her face. His shoulders are hunched and I can see the tension in his spine through his coat. Bonnie stands stiffly, gripping her handbag, her eyes reflecting her misery.

‘Come in, both of you.’ I sound like an ancient schoolmistress. ‘We have some things to talk about, don’t we?’

In the kitchen, we sit down. Adie takes off his coat, puts his phone next to him on the table and scans the screen, head bent. I make coffee. Bonnie sips from a mug, inhaling steam; she looks washed-out. I hand her a tissue and begin the conversation.

‘Right, Adie. What’s going on? It’d better be good.’

I bite my lip and stifle a smile. I could be a United Nations special envoy. But this is serious. Adie wipes his face with his hands. His brow furrows, sweat lodged in the deep seams.

‘Bonnie, I’m so sorry.’

I thump the table with my fist. ‘I’m sure you are, Adie. But it’s not the first time you’ve played away, is it?’

Bonnie looks from his face to mine and her expression is blank. He focuses on me.

‘I love her, Georgie. Other women don’t matter. I can’t be without her.’

I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. ‘How much did you love her when you had your arm round another woman last night?’ I notice Bonnie’s eyes start to fill up again.

He sighs. ‘There are some things happening in my life right now – things I can’t talk about.’

‘Philandering is not one of them.’ I sip coffee. ‘You have a lot of explaining to do. You won’t cheat on her again, Adie. I promise you that.’

He turns a glare on me and his eyes are bitter. ‘You’re just angry because Terry cheated on you. You don’t understand.’

I lean forwards and keep my gaze straight, my eyes boring into his. ‘Try me.’

He turns a tender gaze on Bonnie, reaches out and puts his hand over hers. Her face softens. He takes a deep breath.

‘I’m a businessman, Georgie. I make a lot of money so I can keep my wife in a plush house. We have nice things. But sometimes I have to take risks and—’

‘What does that have to do with other women?’ My voice booms like a politician, retaliating during Question Time. I’m taking no prisoners.

Bonnie’s holding his hand. He brings it to his lips. Suddenly, I’m terrified he’s winning her round.

‘It was a business party. There were all sorts of women there, you know. I had to fit in: it would have been rude not to. It’s all a bit difficult at the moment. I’m having some temporary cash flow problems. A client of mine is pressing for a deadline and I didn’t want to say no to hospitality and offend him. It’ll take me a week to sort out the funds but then it’ll be fine. It was just the once, a woman I’ll never see again. I don’t even remember her name.’

I face him, square on. ‘Bonnie’s your wife, Adie. You can’t just go with other women and pretend it doesn’t matter. It’s disrespectful to everyone. And it’s not the first time. Why do you think she left you just before Demi’s wedding?’

Bonnie winces but she’s still gazing at Adie. I look from her to his face – he’s staring at her, all apologies, pretending to be sorry, and her lip trembles as she whispers his name. Love is blind. And stupid.

He puts a thumb to her cheek, brushes the skin as if it’s delicate silk and sighs. ‘Bonnie, please forgive me. I’ll never look at another woman again. I promise.’

She sniffs and a tear rolls down her face, then another. He has her where he wants her.

He takes her face in his hands. ‘Let’s go away, you and me. Let’s take a long trip. Goa, Sri Lanka. Let’s go tomorrow, stay for three months. Georgie can keep an eye on things.’

I snort loudly. He doesn’t notice.

‘A second honeymoon. Just think – we could renew our vows. We could stay as long as we like. Away from this awful place. Just you and me. What do you say, Bonnie?’ He pauses and then goes in for the killer persuader line. ‘Bon-Bon?’

I open my eyes wide. Bon-Bon? The chair scrapes and Bonnie staggers to her feet, snuffles and runs away. I hear her gasp and sob.

Adie glances at me, his face full of loathing, and then he chases her down the steps to the reception level below.

I rub my hands across my face and through my hair. I long for a shower, a piece of toast. I squint at the clock. It’s half nine. I wonder if she’ll leave with him. I hope not. I remind myself that on Sunday I’ll go to Nanny Basham’s to make her lunch. Bonnie could stay here and we could go together.

Below, I can hear Adie’s voice talking, lilting with emphasis. There’s a brief pause, a soft whisper, so I assume she’s sobbing and then he starts again, all syrup and persuasion. I try to ignore them, breathe deeply, but instead I pick up a paper napkin and shred it between my fingers into a hundred pieces.

His phone is across the table. I glance towards where Bonnie and Adie have gone downstairs. There’s no one around, so I reach for it and flick it open. I know I shouldn’t, but I wonder how many other women he’s in contact with: his phone could have evidence of his philandering.

I check his most recent phone call – there are no details of a number, but he’s spoken to the same unidentified caller three times today and five times yesterday. I look back through his other calls. He’s tried to phone Bonnie a dozen times, more. Then I notice he has an unopened text, and I press the button and catch my breath. There it is, the photo of Bonnie and me and the man, Duncan Beddowes, taken in Adie’s office. Bonnie’s posing, smiling for the camera, and my face is twisted in annoyance. Just below it, the message reads: I never make empty threats. The phone nearly slips from my fingers.

I hear voices becoming louder, Adie’s protesting and Bonnie’s petulant tones. I thrust the phone to the other side of the table and start to play with the shredded napkin, sip cold coffee. The happy couple appear, holding hands, Adie cheerful again, Bonnie looking sad. She can’t meet my eyes. Adie’s smirking, triumphant. He speaks first.

‘We’re going home now.’

‘Bonnie?’ I stare at her. ‘Bon, are you sure?’ She shakes her head, nods and shrugs. I stand. ‘I want you to ring me later, Bonnie.’ I stare at Adie, who’s wrapped an arm round her and is now helping her into her coat, a true gentleman. ‘Seriously, Adie. I want to know she’s all right.’

He lifts his coat, turns his back and points her towards the stairs. ‘You don’t need to worry, Georgie. But thanks for your help. We’re all fine now.’

He’s eradicated his infidelity in one sentence. I glare at him. He remembers his phone, scoops it from the table and pushes it in a pocket. Bonnie looks over her shoulder as she’s ushered away.

‘Georgie, I …’

‘Ring me.’

He steers her down the stairs and the last thing I see is her staring over her shoulder, a round-eyed gaze and smudged make-up. I breathe in and out like a seething dog and clench my fists. An image is soaking into the screen of my mind and words follow: the picture of Bonnie and me either side of a man we don’t know and the warning underneath: Remember …

Adie’s made a very real enemy and he’s definitely in trouble above his head. I wonder what sort of corrupt business he’s involved in. A shiver goes through me, from my shoulders right down to my toes.

Chapter Six

The next day, Nanny’s surprisingly quiet during my visit. She picks at her roast dinner for one and leaves most of it on the side of her plate. When she gazes at the television, she hardly hears me talking to her. I sit on the rug, snuggle against her knees and gaze up at her as she sips the last of her beer. The music booms and a smooth voice proclaims today’s news headlines. There’s a politician who’s in trouble. He’s made a crass remark and other politicians are calling him a buffoon and demanding that he resign. A woman from some fiscal group at a university talks about 3 per cent inflation, how prices are going up, and that it’s going to be a hard summer for investors. Nanny tuts.

Then the local news: the screen moves to a street I recognise in Norris Green. A man’s voice narrates that the police have staged a big coup to do with money laundering in which a large amount of cash was involved: the first man was arrested in what’s expected to be a sequence of arrests. I stare at the screen, at a plastic door with no lights on inside. I remember the same view from Adie’s Boxster. An old pair of trainers hangs from the telegraph wire. It’s the same house.

Nanny Basham adjusts her glasses and sucks her teeth. ‘This city is full of scallies. It never used to be like this.’

I shake my head and wonder if Adie has anything to do with the crime on the television. When we stopped outside the house, he said someone owed him money. For a second, I wonder if he’s lost it all. I know he is a wheeler-dealer, but it’s possible he’s involved in something worse.

I mumble, ‘I shouldn’t be surprised if it’s connected to Adie. Who knows what he does? It’s probably not legitimate. Bonnie’s best away from him, Nan.’

‘I agree, Georgina. But it can’t be easy for her.’

‘Of course it is. You just walk out of the door.’

‘Splitting up, like you did with Terry Wood? Some women find it difficult to be by themselves all the time.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Perhaps Bonnie’s not like you, Georgina. Perhaps she doesn’t hold with your ideas about women’s lubrication.’

‘Liberation, Nan.’

The voice on television talks about the arrest and how further arrests will be made.

Nanny shakes her head. ‘They want locking up, all of them. And the key throwing away.’

Nan looks tired. I ask her if she’s all right and she tells me she’s fine, she’s just worried about Bonnie. We both are. I can’t stop thinking about the text messages; burned in my mind is the photo of us standing either side of the man called Beddowes and I can’t rid myself of the image of Adie’s fading pallor as he watched his business contact take the selfie.

Bonnie doesn’t call me. I text her three times on Sunday night and by midnight I’m so worried, I ring. She answers me with a faint voice. She’s in bed with a migraine.

On Monday, I leave her alone and decide she should have time to herself. She can call me if she needs me. For all I know, she’s in Sri Lanka on a second honeymoon.

On Tuesday, my feet don’t touch the ground. Amanda and I are busy all day and we spend lunchtime advertising for a new beauty therapist. Now Jade is away so often, we need help and business is good enough to try out a new pair of hands.

I rush to Nan’s at lunch to put her groceries away and during the afternoon, I move from client to client. Diane Morris, now Diane Morris-Kandeh, arrives at 3 p.m. for a facial and spends an hour chattering about her husband, twenty-five-year-old Lamin who by all accounts is descended from a Mandinka warrior. He’s especially warlike in the bedroom. I roll my eyes because hers are closed, make my voice light and coo, ‘Lovely.’

Amanda and I are still busy at five o’clock. Jade texts me that she’ll jump in a taxi at the station when she arrives back from Brighton just before midnight. She has a client first thing tomorrow, at 7.30. I check my email and we have two applicants already for the therapist’s job: seventeen-year-old Lexi and twenty-three-year-old Ella-Louise, both claiming to have experience in treatments I’ve never even heard of. The younger one has apparently invented new nail-art designs and Ella-Louise has qualifications in intimate waxing for men, so I decide to interview them both on Thursday morning.

My last client of the day, Mrs Gaffney, whose first name is really Daphne, arrives for her pedicure at five fifteen. She’s seventy-seven and sprightlier than I am at the moment, given my thumping headache. She entertains me with a catalogue of raunchy tales about her first three husbands, so I always enjoy those sessions. She seldom talks about the fourth, who died last year, except to say, ‘He was the love of my life, God rest him.’

We finish just after six o’clock and Amanda stares out of the window. Beyond the frame, all is grey – the sky is dishwater dark outside, and then a splattering of rain hits the glass and she shudders.

‘Rhys’s working the late shift. It looks horrible out there. Am I up for a twenty-minute walk home in a freezing downpour through the park?’

I take the hint. ‘Stop for a cheeky glass of wine, a bite to eat. I’ll get you a taxi home later. We’ve worked hard today.’

She sits at the kitchen table and smiles. I uncork a bottle of Merlot and it splashes into two large glasses with a familiar glug. I’ll make beans on toast. The company will be nice.

Half an hour later, the Merlot bottle is half empty. Or half full. Amanda’s chatting about the coming summer and a holiday in the sun.

‘When we first met, Rhys and I spent July on the Algarve in a villa. We had a pool outside, rolling hills, no neighbours. He used to stroll around naked all day in the sunshine …’

I wrinkle my nose. ‘Sounds like a fire hazard to me.’

She misunderstands my cynicism.

‘Oh, definitely. I believe in keeping our relationship hot. I mean, I didn’t choose a firefighter for nothing. Sometimes I even get him to keep his yellow helmet on.’

I’m ready to join her in spluttering laughter, but her face is serious. I giggle anyway.

‘Rhys and I have everything we want, though. This year, I’ve asked him if we can spend money on experiences. I need a holiday. I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.’

I imagine the beaches, the surf, the cocktails, the garlands; lei placed round my neck by a welcoming islander with a huge smile.

‘I’ll have to get the calendar out and look at holidays. It’ll be easy if we can appoint one of these new applicants.’

‘I hope we find someone.’ Amanda wrinkles her nose.

‘We’ll interview on Thursday. I’ve invited Lexi and Ella-Louise.’

‘We have plenty of work for at least one of them.’ Amanda scrapes her fork on the plate. ‘We both work far too hard.’

I agree and reward us both with a top-up from the wine bottle.

‘In fact, Georgie, you need a holiday, too.’

I think of Bonnie and wonder again if she’s at the airport with Adie.

I nod. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘When did you last have a break?’

I think about it.

‘I went to Paris eighteen months ago for a weekend. And before that I went to Palma for ten days. That was ages ago, though.’

She folds her arms across her chest. ‘By yourself?’

I nod. ‘I don’t mind travelling alone. It’s always an experience. I talk to people and I go to places where it’s safe, and there’s either a lot of sightseeing, or shopping, or a nice beach or a pool.’

‘What about a man?’

‘Oh, you can get one of those anywhere. You don’t have to go abroad.’

She giggles, humouring me. ‘No, really, Georgie, when did you last have a proper relationship?’

I trot out an easy answer. ‘I’m too busy.’ Then I stop to think. ‘No, I’m not interested in men and they’re not interested in me. Not the nice ones. There was the sleazy man with the clipped beard at Demi’s wedding. That’s the sort of man who tries to chat me up – the unpleasant ones. You can smell the desperation – they’ll sidle up to anything in a skirt. I don’t get many offers nowadays but I’m not at all worried.’

She leans forwards and pats my hand. ‘You’re still young, Georgie. You look good.’

I shake my head. ‘No, that’s all over with now.’

‘What is – love?’

‘I’m too independent, too old for love and all that nonsense. Men. Sex. The hassle. Having to compromise. Do what they want to do, go where they want. “Yes, dear – whatever you say, dear.” Sharing a bed with a snoring, sweaty bloke with a beer gut. Having to lend him money for the next bet or wondering if I’ll find frilly knickers in the back of his car that belong to the woman he’s seeing behind my back.’

‘You’re cynical.’

‘Not at all.’

‘Terry must’ve really hurt you.’

‘I’m well over him. He did me a favour. I’d rather have this place and the business, to be honest.’

‘But what about the company? Someone to cuddle up to? Someone to love who loves you back?’

‘I’m happy as I am. Besides, I’m past all that.’

‘Is it dating that bothers you, Georgie? I mean, after all these years, do you think you’d still be able to get excited about going out with a man?’

‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘I’ve had two dates since Terry, both disasters. It put me off completely. What would be the point? I’m too set in my ways. And anyway, men only want a younger, prettier version after a few years …’

‘You mean like Rabbity Alison?’

I push the memory away, finish my wine and grin at her. ‘Okay. It’s big decision time.’ Amanda looks hopeful: she thinks I might agree to start dating. Instead, I offer her a mischievous grin. ‘Should we open another bottle or have a coffee?’

She glances up at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s nearly nine. Coffee, please. I’d better get off soon.’

I pick up the empty plates. The prospect of a bit of quiet, even an early night tucked up with the hot-water bottle, looms in front of me like an old friend. Jade’ll be home around midnight, but she has a key. I’ll see her at breakfast time. I don’t want to appear the fretful, needy mum.

An hour later, the kitchen is clean, with the plates put away, and I’m curled up in bed reading a book about a man who’s lived for hundreds of years but who’s lonely and can’t adjust to the present time. I’m immersed in the middle chapters. The radio is a tinny rattle of music in my ears. The eleven o’clock newsreader mutters something about rising crime rates and the high price of an average family house. I push my feet against the furry warmth of the hot-water bottle beneath my toes and I feel sleepy. I place the book gently on the floor on its front, switch off the radio and reach for the light. My phone buzzes an in-coming call and I pick up.

‘Hello. Bonnie. How are you?’

Her voice comes back as a whisper. ‘Georgie. I’m scared. There’s someone in the house.’

‘Huh? Tell Adie …’

‘Adie’s out. There’s someone downstairs. I’m in the bedroom.’ I can hear her breathing, a shallow rasp. ‘What shall I do?’

I sit upright, wide awake. ‘Are you sure? Did you Skype Demi?’

‘Yes, a few minutes ago. Then I heard someone moving about in the lounge and something fell or smashed. I don’t know what happened but someone’s definitely here. I’m scared.’

My thoughts race. ‘Are you on your own?’

‘Yes. Adie’s out until midnight, at a business meeting.’

I make up my mind at once. ‘Are you dressed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you get to the back door safely?’