Page 133 of An Unholy Affair
She shook her head. ‘I need to tell you a few things, but I would appreciate if you kept them to yourself.’
‘Yes, of course. I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Simon Little asked me to marry him.’
Estelle’s eyes bugged out. ‘SimonLittle?’
Eveline nodded.
‘Please, for the love of god tell me you said no?’
She nodded again.
‘Thank fuckity-fuck for that.’ Estelle sighed loudly, her shoulders sagging, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Why did he propose? Don’t get me wrong, you’re a total catch, but he’s older than your fucking dad. Was he having a funny five minutes?’
‘He believed I shared his feelings. He said we already had anunderstanding…’
‘What. The. Actual. Fuck?’
‘He presented it as a done deal. He’d already spoken to his children about it.’
‘Alan and Laura? I bet they were as appalled as you were.’
Eveline shook her head. ‘No, they were very much in favour.’
‘Why? Are they out of their minds too?’
‘Simon is going to—wasgoing to sell his house, split the proceeds with Alan and Laura, then move in with me.’
‘What?’ By now, Estelle’s whispers were loud enough to be heard in Shepton Mallet.
‘He said if he did that, his children wouldn’t think I was a “gold digger”.’
Her friend’s curly black hair was vibrating as she trembled with righteous anger. ‘I… I… MotherFUCKER!’
‘Estelle! Shush!’
‘Sorry, sorry, I just…’ She shook her head as if to throw off some of her fury. ‘What a presumptive arsehole,’ she spat. ‘Did he think he was doing you some kind of favour?’
‘He said he was willing to make the personal sacrifice to provide me with children…’
Estelle’s face froze, then she shuddered and retched. ‘Can you imagine how hideous making babies with him would be?’
A small laugh hiccupped out. Eveline hadn’t realised how much she needed to speak to her best friend about this. Estelle’s reaction made her feel better about her own feelings.
‘He also said that he was an “experienced man of the world” and would be “gentle” with me in the marital bed…’
Estelle blinked, then threw her head back and roared with laughter. ‘Good grief. Does he think he’s the Casanova of Foxbrooke and you’re some doe-eyed virgin?’
Eveline smiled, the sensation strange on her face, as if she’d forgotten how it felt.
‘But… What has this got to do—Oh god, the fucking pews! Is this why he stuck the knife in?’
She nodded. ‘When he realised I wasn’t going to change my mind about him, he changed his tune about supporting me.’
‘What a total cun—wanker, sorry, Eveline. But this can’t cost you yourjob?’
She clutched Estelle’s hands tighter, trying to anchor herself in a swelling sea of sickness. ‘He’s made a series of complaints to the Bishop about me.’
