Read Online Freeing Grace by Charity Norman - Free Book Online Page B

was completely deliberate. And as for her! She knows damned well we’ve been trying to adopt for years. Bitchy, even by her standards.’
    ‘Mm.’ Elizabeth shot a furtive glance at the door. ‘He was all over you, and she was fuming. It was revenge.’
    ‘It’s not as if I encourage him,’ protested Leila, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves with a snap.
    Elizabeth picked up a tea towel. ‘Is he—’ She broke off, holding up a warning finger. They waited, listening, as the rest of the party crossed the hall. The sitting-room door shut, dulling the voices.
    ‘Is he always so . . .’
    ‘Sleazy?’ Leila turned on both taps and then jumped back as a jet of water ricocheted off a spoon, soaking her shirt. ‘Only after he’s been drinking. They tell me he was quite an impressive character in his prime. You know, a romantic, half-mythical figure who turned up every few months, bringing swashbuckling stories, and the smell of the sea on his clothes.’
    ‘Ah. And then he retired, and lost all his magic.’
    Leila squeezed out far too much washing-up liquid. ‘One minute he’s somebody. The next he’s a nuisance, getting under Hilda’s stilettos. No cronies down the local, no hobbies, no one.’ She slid a pile of cutlery into the water. ‘So he drinks. And the more his body crumbles into old age—sunspots, aches, fading hair—the more he tries to prove his virility. Ageing must be awful for the vain, don’t you think?’
    ‘Awful for everybody.’ Elizabeth shook the soap suds from a handful of knives as Hilda’s laughter jangled through the airwaves. ‘I can’t quite work her out, either. I don’t think she’s stupid, is she?’
    ‘Not at all.’ Leila heaved a dripping pot onto the draining board. ‘She ran the family single-handedly as well as managing her rather posh dress shop in Northampton. And she’s said to be very sharp as a magistrate. It’s common knowledge that she liked Christopher best when he was sending pay cheques from twelve thousand miles away. She’s nobody’s fool.’
    ‘Where’s she from? There’s a sort of lilt in her speech . . . I can’t quite place it.’
    ‘That’s Tyneside.’ Leila raised an eyebrow. ‘She’d be horrified you’ve asked because she thinks she’s cast off her roots. Her father was a ship builder. Asbestos got him. Her mum’s ninety, broad Geordie, lives in a home in Gateshead.’
    Elizabeth whistled silently.
    ‘David’s the apple of her eye,’ muttered Leila, dropping her voice still further. ‘Her eldest. She’s never got over the triple whammy. First he married me—I’m hardly going to look the thing on the court and social pages, am I? Not quite the peaches and cream. More Death by Chocolate.’
    ‘Delectable.’
    ‘Then I failed to come up with the goods as far as grandchildren are concerned. Finally—and this was the last straw—David threw away his glittering career in poisons. She thinks I encouraged him.’
    ‘And did you?’
    ‘Certainly not! After all, I stood to lose by it financially, not her . And—let’s face it—not exactly macho, is it, the dog collar thing? You’re hardly the envy of all the other wives.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Except the kinky ones who like to dress up.’
    ‘Tarts and vicars,’ said Elizabeth, deadpan. ‘Angus makes a great tart.’
    They fell silent, moving quietly, listening to Hilda’s tweeting. ‘Dear Monica’s throwing a party for our ruby wedding anniversary!’
    ‘That’s the sister?’ asked Elizabeth.
    ‘Monica.’ Leila chuckled. ‘She has a kind heart and a big, bossy bottom. She’s a professional party organiser. Voice like a hospital matron.’
    ‘A professional what ?’
    ‘Party organiser. People pay her to arrange their bashes from start to finish. If you pay her enough—and you’ll need to take out a second mortgage—she’ll do the marquee, the band, the flowers, the food, the portaloos, the staff, the photographer and a taxi for when Uncle Harold