Page 12 of Happily Never After
‘You don’t seem yourself today. Darren hasn’t done anything, has he?’
‘He’s fine. I’ve just got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’
Claire felt bad about lying to her friend, but she knew Pauline would jump to all sorts of conclusions if she told her about the argument with Darren last night, especially the part where he’d thrown his mug of tea at her. Thankfully, it had missed and shattered against the wall behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen foul of his short temper, but it was the first time he’d actually frightened her. Like the other times he’d lost it, his rage had been over as quickly as it had begun and he’d apologised profusely, explaining that he only got so upset because he loved her so much. Their make-up sex had been typically passionate, but the mug thing had unsettled her and she couldn’t stop herself from replaying the incident in her head and wondering what she could have done differently to stop him from getting so angry.
Despite having encouraged her to begin with, Pauline seemed to have taken against Darren more and more astime had gone on. It had started when Claire had stupidly told her that he’d talked her out of her long-term ambition of joining the police; even though she’d explained that Darren was just worried about her being a target for violence, Pauline had seen his behaviour as controlling. Darren, for his part, thought that Pauline was a malign influence and made no bones about the fact he’d like Claire to ditch her. Over the last few months, she’d got very good at filtering what she said to each of them in order to keep the peace, but she felt increasingly like she was walking a tightrope and one wrong remark would set one of them off.
Today is one of those rare days when the words just seem to flow onto the page. I’ve already written way over a thousand of them as I slowly start to reveal the odious Darren’s true nature. It’s a delicate balance, as I need Darren to display all the typical behaviours associated with coercive control, progressively isolating Claire from family and friends and taking away her independence, without making her look gullible or weak. I’m not sure I’ve got it totally right in this scene yet but, as my editor continually tells me, I can always come back to it later. I can practically hear her voice in my head saying, ‘You can’t edit it if you haven’t even written it in the first place.’
When I first moved in, Liv’s musical doorbell completely foxed Meg, and she didn’t react to it at all for nearly a week. However, the connection is firmly established now, so she’s on her feet and barking excitedly before the Big Ben chimes have even finished. I still find it a little odd that someone as posh as Liv should have such a twee doorbell, but she assures me that it’s ironic, and she only bought it because her father thinks it’s unbearably naff. They might get on pretty well these days, but she still enjoys winding him up.
‘Package for Laura Spalding,’ the postwoman announces, handing over a cardboard box once I’ve shut Meg in the kitchen and opened the door. ‘I just need to take a picture of you with it as proof of delivery.’
She snaps a photo with her handheld device before thrusting the usual selection of envelopes and leaflets into my hand and disappearing up the path.
‘What do you think is in here?’ I ask Meg as I place the box on the kitchen table. Now that the excitement of the post arriving is over, she’s settled herself back in her basket and is watching me with her soulful eyes. I haven’t ordered anything recently, so I turn the box over in my hands, looking for clues, but it’s not giving anything away. I check the address in case it’s a misdelivery, but it’s clearly addressed to me.
I grab the scissors out of the drawer and cut open the lid to reveal a white envelope sitting on top of a mountain of pink tissue paper that’s completely obscuring the rest of the contents of the box. Inside the envelope is a printed card.
To Laura,
A little gift to help you on your journey of self-discovery. I hope you find it satisfying – enjoy!!
All my love
Liv xx
‘It’s something from Auntie Liv,’ I tell an uninterested Meg as I start to remove the tissue. ‘What do you think it is? It could literally be anything from dietary supplements to a Pilates ball, knowing her.’
None the wiser, I start to remove the tissue but, as Liv’s gift finally starts to come into view, I gasp in surprise.
It’s not dietary supplements or a Pilates ball.
If only it were. That would be so much easier to deal with than this. What on earth was she thinking? Liv has definitely gone too far this time and, before I know it, I’m grabbing my keys and heading for the door.
‘Oh, hello, Laura,’ Bella says as I stride into the pâtisserie a short time later with the box under my arm. ‘You’re not working today, are you?’
‘No. I just needed to have a quick chat with Liv,’ I tell her without breaking my stride as I head into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. The conversation I’m about to have is not one I want overheard. Liv is at the counter, whisking some kind of mixture in a bowl.
‘Give me a sec, Bella,’ she says without looking up. ‘This is at a crucial stage.’
‘It’s not Bella,’ I tell her.
‘Oh, hello, Laura.’ Her voice is irritatingly unperturbed and she still doesn’t look up from her whisking. ‘I still need a sec. If I don’t keep a close eye on this, myCrème Pâtissièrewill turn into scrambled egg, and nobody wants scrambled egg in their pastries. Grab yourself a hair net and I’ll be with you as soon as this is done.’
In spite of my irritation, I find myself meekly pulling on a hair net and settling myself on a stool while she carries on with her work. Eventually, she’s obviously satisfied as she finally turns her attention to me.
‘What’s up?’ she asks innocently.
‘Your present arrived,’ I tell her, setting the box on the table and watching her reaction carefully. Annoyingly, there isn’t even the slightest hint of shame. If anything, she looks pleased.
‘I know. I got a notification on my phone that it had been delivered. What do you think?’
‘For starters, I think I’ll never be able to look the postwoman in the eye again.’
‘Why?’ She still doesn’t seem bothered.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I spit sarcastically. ‘Call me old-fashioned, but idle chit-chat becomes a little difficult after she’s delivered a box with a sex toy in it.’
