Unfaithful (The Complete Trilogy) Page 13

  Shona opened her eyes wide at the thought of Rebecca suspecting her husband's affair. "Actually, it's interesting you should say that. Rebecca came into the office a few weeks ago, unexpectedly and unannounced. I nearly collapsed with the shock of seeing her and what’s more she insisted on spending the afternoon with me, seeing how I worked."

  "My point has just been proven!" Penelope clapped her hands with glee. "She knew he was up to something and she even suspected it was you. She came to the office to check you out."

  "Do you really think so?" Shona asked, not wanting to believe what her new friend was saying. "Think about it for a minute," Penelope insisted. "What was her reason for being in the office?" "None, Mark was as surprised as me to see her."

  "Exactly," Penelope looked at her smugly. "She already thinks he's up to mischief, she just can't prove it. Well, I think we should put the poor woman out of her misery and tell her everything. Don't you think she has a right to know that her husband is a cheating, lying, disloyal scoundrel? Wouldn't you like to know? I know I would appreciate someone telling me."

  "Would you really want to be told by your husband's mistress?" Shona asked.

  "Mistresses," Penelope corrected, flicking her sleek dark hair over her shoulder.

  "Plural, darling, there's at least two of us."

  "Surely there can't be anyone else?"

  "I wouldn't be in the least surprised if there was someone else. Oh, God, I cringe at how I believed every word he told me," Shona whispered.

  "Stop cringing and let's get even. When shall we tell his wife? Do you know where she lives?" "Steady on a minute," Shona breathed, "I'm not sure if telling his wife is a good idea. I don't think I'm brave enough to deal with the consequences. What if she calls the police or something?"

  "Don't be ridiculous," Penelope laughed, "it's not a criminal offence to sleep with your boss. Obviously, we're not going to be her favourite people, but part of her will have to respect us, maybe even admire us for doing the right thing in the end and telling her the truth."

  "Some people don't appreciate being slapped in the face with the truth," Shona tried to argue. “Maybe she wants to live in denial."

  "Absolutely not!" Penelope was having none of it, "she'll thank us in the end."

  "I need a cigarette," Shona groaned, desperate to change the subject.

  Penelope was getting quite carried away with seeking revenge on Mark and Shona didn't want to be talked into something that she might deeply regret later. She pushed back her chair noisily, and struggled to her feet, feeling quite wobbly from too much red wine, too much rich food and not enough cigarettes.

  She was addicted to her Marlboros already and she hadn't even been smoking them for a month! Penelope threw some money on the table and took her new friend's arm companionably as they staggered down the street together.

  "Let's grab a taxi back to my place, I have plenty of alcohol at home and we can stop on the way for your ciggies," Penelope offered generously.

  Shona was too tired and too emotionally drained to argue with the force of Penelope's personality. She smiled in agreement and Penelope squeezed her arm in delight.

  "I make the best cocktails," she whispered confidentially in Shona's ear. "Wait until you taste my version of a Cosmopolitan. It'll put hairs on your chest."

  "A look I have been aspiring to for a long time."

  The two women collapsed in fits of uncontrollable giggles.

  "Oh, taxi! Taxi!" Penelope suddenly squealed, hauling poor Shona out into the middle of the road, and frightening the living daylights out of the unsuspecting taxi driver, who screeched to a halt only inches from the women. "So sorry, so sorry," Penelope beamed her brightest smile at the taxi driver, who visibly melted under her hypnotic gaze.

  Chapter 22

  "I am never, ever drinking again," Penelope groaned, pushing her heavy fringe out of her eyes, and struggling to sit up on the edge of the couch. "Is it normal that the room is spinning this fast?"

  "We must be on the same merry go round then," Shona moaned from under her tangle of blankets on the floor. “I feel like there's someone drilling inside my head," Shona clutched her head as if she was trying to hold it together.

  "What time is it?" Penelope pondered.

  "Time for some painkillers and coffee," Shona mumbled, her face still covered by her blankets.

  Penelope staggered awkwardly to her feet and shuffled to the bathroom. "Wow!" she exclaimed when she caught sight of her dishevelled appearance in the mirror. Her usually sleek, glossy hair was frizzy and knotted and her fringe was standing straight up off the top of her head in rather alarming spikes. Yesterday's makeup was caked in brown patches on her face and her eyelashes were clumped together in mascara blobs. She had dark bruised circles under her eyes; a combination of smudged eyeliner and the effects of too much indulgence the previous night. "Attractive," she muttered to herself as she splashed cold water on her face. She grabbed the sink for support as her head began to spin with the effort of washing her face.

  "There you go, missus," Penelope handed Shona a large tumbler of ice water and two paracetamol, "that should help your head."

  "Thanks," Shona mumbled as she struggled to emerge from her cocoon on the floor.

  Penelope tried to stifle a laugh at the sight of Shona's hung over face. Her entire head of blonde curls was standing completely on end and her face was as white as snow. "You look like death slightly warmed up."

  "Good to know, thanks," Shona said sarcastically, as she downed the tablets and water in one long gulp. "You don't look so hot yourself."

  "Tell me about it," Penelope ran a hand self-consciously through her hair. "Coffee?"

  "Yes, please. I need a very strong coffee with two sugars."

  "Come on then, I'll make the coffee, you stick the toast in the grill."

  "I don't know if I can eat anything yet," Shona weakly protested.

  "Of course you can; coffee, toast and few sausages will make you feel like a new woman," Penelope said as she banged about in the kitchen washing cups and plates.

  Shona winced, "please, keep the noise down."

  "I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to feel a little more human," Penelope said as the new friends sipped their coffee on the balcony of Penelope's penthouse apartment.

  "Slowly," Shona squinted against the bright sun of the early afternoon. She snuggled deeper into the blanket that she'd brought outside.

  "You have an amazing view from up here.” She glanced down at the busy Dublin street below them.

  "Yes, I rented it for the view," Penelope agreed. "I love being up here, watching unobserved as everyone goes about their lives."

  "It must be very expensive," Shona mused, "how do you afford the rent?"

  "It's quite pricey alright," Penelope sighed. "I was sharing with my friend until a few months ago, but we had a difference of opinion so she decided to move out."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, it's always a shame when friends fall out."

  "Yeah," Penelope replied, helping herself to another piece of toast. "Why don't you move in here with me and we can plot Mark's demise together?" she suggested suddenly.

  Shona almost choked on her sausage. "I don't think so, I like my own space too much," she managed to splutter eventually.

  "Besides, I doubt I'd be able to afford even half the rent on this place."

  "Pity," Penelope said, "we could have had some fun."

  Shona smiled awkwardly and distracted herself by lighting a cigarette.

  "Would you like one?" she offered Penelope.

  "No, thanks, I'd better not. I smoked too much last night. I can feel it on my chest today."

  "Not me," Shona inhaled deeply and let out a long, smoking plume. "Ahhh," she breathed, "there it is, there's nothing quite like that first nicotine hit at the start of the day."

  "Spoken like a true addict," Penelope grinned.

  "You'll never believe it but I only started smoking a few weeks ago."

&
nbsp; "What?" Penelope exclaimed incredulously. "Whatever made you start smoking at your age?" "I know, it's like my new dirty little secret," Shona laughed ironically. "I started smoking when I broke up with Mark. I missed the smell of him so much that I couldn't resist buying his cigarettes just to get a “Mark hit”.”

  "Oh, Shona, you silly girl," Penelope scolded gently. “They're no good for you."

  "What; men or cigarettes?" Shona retorted quickly.

  "Both, I'm seriously considering becoming a lesbian.” She looked pointedly at Shona.

  "Count me out," the other woman laughed, "I have enough problems with men without getting involved with women. You're not a lesbian are you?"

  "Nah, bi-sexual maybe," Penelope said mischievously.

  "It's too early in the day to be discussing lesbians and men," Shona groaned, as she poured another coffee from the cafetiere.

  "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?" Penelope asked.

  "Well, I did intend to go to the job centre to try to find myself some work, but in the state that I'm in at the moment I don't think that would be such a good idea."

  "Hmm, maybe not," Penelope agreed. "Why don't we visit Mark's wife?"

  "Absolutely not!" Shona said vehemently.

  "I'm going to go see her," Penelope continued, undeterred. "I categorically refuse to let a man, and especially a man like Mark McNamara, make me feel surplus to requirements. He deserves to be exposed for the lying, cheating, using toe-rag that he really is and I'm more than happy to do the exposing."

  Shona took one look at Penelope's determined face and knew that she meant every word.

  "I agree with you.” Shona’s tired mind raced as she tried to stall Penelope. "Mark should suffer for how he's treated us, but Rebecca hasn't done anything wrong and she's going to suffer too. I have to admit that I'm going to be very ashamed and embarrassed having to confess to her that I was sleeping with her husband."

  "Well, it's not my proudest moment either," Penelope sniffed reluctantly. "It's not something either of us planned. We just fell in love with the wrong man. Anyway, it's more his responsibility than ours to worry about his wife. No offence to either of us, but if he hadn't been sleeping with us, he would have been sleeping with someone else. I mean, for all we know he could have more women on the go."

  "I don't know where he gets the energy," Shona half-smiled.

  "He's an egomaniac, pure and simple," Penelope retorted.

  "I reckon we leave it for a bit, let's see if we can come up with a plan to punish Mark without telling Rebecca. If we can't think of anything then we'll tell her what her husband has been up to. Agreed?"

  "Ok," Penelope agreed, "I'm not working with him anymore. I'm going to get my portfolio photos finished and that's the last I'll have to do with Mark McNamara."

  Chapter 23

  "What's wrong, darling?" Mark asked Rebecca, his face full of concern.

  "It must have been something I ate," she lied, as she splashed water on her face.

  "You've been throwing up for the last few days, and it always seems to be in the morning. Oh no, you're not pregnant, are you?!” Mark cried, his voice raised an octave or two with dread. "Heaven's no," his wife protested quickly, splashing more water on her face in an effort to hide her expression from him. He knew her so well that one look in her eyes would tell him immediately that she was lying.

  "Are you sure?" he pressed her anxiously.

  "Absolutely certain," she insisted.

  "How long has it been since your last period?" Mark continued his questioning.

  "What is this?" Rebecca snapped irritably, "this is beginning to feel like an inquisition."

  "I'm concerned, that's all," Mark said gently, "we don't want a baby at this stage in our lives, do we?"

  "Of course not," Rebecca agreed vehemently, "anyway, it hasn't been very long since my last period, maybe five or six weeks, but you know me, my periods have always been irregular. I skip a month here and there, just like now, and everything's been fine."

  "Don't you think you should get a pregnancy test anyway, just to make sure?" Mark persisted. "No, Mark, I do not need a pregnancy test. It's just something I ate, now will you let it go, please!"

  "Ok, ok, calm down. If this vomiting continues will you at least promise me that you'll see the doctor?"

  "I will, Scout's honour," Rebecca muttered, burying her face in a towel.

  "Good, well I'm off to work, call me if you need anything, darling." Mark kissed Rebecca gently on the top of her head and made his way downstairs.

  "Bye," Rebecca whispered faintly after him. She almost held her breath until she heard the front door bang a few minutes later. She waited to hear his car pull out of the drive before she finally allowed herself to breathe easy. She took a few deep breaths to steady her nerves and her upset stomach, which was gradually beginning to settle.

  She patted her growing tummy. She was surprised and also relieved that Mark hadn't noticed how round her stomach was growing and how swollen her breasts looked. She'd managed to disguise her weight gain during the last few weeks by wearing baggy tops and loose trousers. I suppose he has more on his mind than watching my figure, she thought to herself, he's too busy watching every other woman's figure.

  She slipped out of her nightdress and surveyed her naked body in the full-length bathroom mirror. I won't be able to disguise you much longer, baby, she whispered as she gently patted her stomach. She'd gained almost a stone over the past month, which wasn't helped by her enormous cravings for cakes and biscuits. One or two biscuits wasn’t enough, she had to keep going until she'd finished the entire packet! She was even getting up in the middle of the night to eat. The sensible part of her brain tried to warn her that she'd have to lose all the weight after the pregnancy, but the pregnant part of her brain insisted that she indulge herself. She was perpetually hungry and agonisingly tired. All she wanted to do was sleep and eat. She dreaded how much weight she would have gained by the end of her pregnancy.

  She pulled on her loosest tracksuit which was already starting to get tight. It's about time I started buying some maternity clothes, she groaned, as she walked carefully downstairs. She was prone to feeling quite faint during the past week, and the last thing she wanted was to fall and hurt herself or her baby.

  The thought of her new baby was slowly starting to make her feel happy again. She could feel the stirrings of the new life that was growing so quickly inside her. She padded into the laundry room and fumbled around behind the washing machine, where she'd hidden the baby book which she had recently treated herself to in Mother Care, the biggest mother and baby shop in Dublin. She enjoyed nothing more these past few weeks than sitting in the conservatory, drinking ginger tea and reading and re-reading the stages of her new baby's development.

  Rebecca was almost twelve weeks pregnant now. Her baby was about the length of her little finger at this stage, all her organs would be formed and she would even be practicing sucking and swallowing. Rebecca was convinced that she was having a girl, mostly because she'd always dreamed of having a daughter but also because this pregnancy was very different to how she'd felt when she was pregnant with Christopher.

  She hoped she wouldn't have the same complications with this baby as she'd experienced with her son. She'd been bed-bound for most of the last two months of her pregnancy with her first born. The tiredness she’d had with Chris was not nearly as exhausted and sick as she felt now. She'd actually lost weight, almost a stone, when she'd had Chris but she knew she was going to be stones heavier after this little one but she didn't care. It would all be worth it in the end. She smiled to herself and gently patted her tummy.

  She sat in her rocking chair in the conservatory rocking gently, and dreaming of baby names. She had a great fondness for Irish names and was fascinated by the history behind the names. Mark had insisted on naming their son Christopher after his father but Rebecca would choose this baby's name. Aoibheann or Saoirse were her favourite baby girl names
at the moment. Aoibheann, pronounced "e-ving" means radiance and Saoirse, pronounced "seer-sha" means freedom.

  If she had a baby boy then she quite liked the names Fionn or Oisin. Oisin, pronounced "o-sheen" means forever young and Fionn, pronounced "fuh-yun" means white or fair hair and is a derivation of the name Finbar. Rebecca liked the fact that Fionn Mac Cumhaill was an Irish warrior and poet and Oisin was his son.

  She hummed to herself as she daydreamed about all the hopes and dreams she would share with her new child. It was such an exciting time and she was glad, in a way, that it was her little secret. Nobody else knew about her pregnancy, so nobody could spoil her joy and ruin it with doubt. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but she was looking forward to the future for the first time in a very long time.

  The joy that Mark's betrayal had crushed so badly within her was slowly but surely starting to resurface once again. She felt like it was her and her baby against the world. It would be her and her baby together, just the two of them, when all of this was done. She certainly didn't want to have anything more to do with Mark once she'd left him and Christopher had his own life to lead. Sometimes, part of her wished she had someone to share her happy news with but she didn't think the time was right to tell anyone just yet, especially not Mark.

  She put the precious baby book back in its hiding place behind the washing machine, somewhere she knew Mark or Christopher would never venture. She often wondered if either of them ever wondered how their dirty laundry seemed to magically return clean and fresh to their wardrobe shelves.

  She'd been distracted from her plan to leave her husband over the excitement and worry during the last few weeks, but now that everything was confirmed and she had made her decision to continue with the pregnancy she was determined to get back on track soon. She was so grateful for the chat that she'd had with Laura earlier that week.