Read Online The Other Woman's Shoes by Adele Parks - Free Book Online Page A

fling it there: his clothes seemed simply to drop off him and land in untidy heaps. Eliza listened to him flick through the channels, horse racing, documentary, rugby, soap omnibus. Greg paused at the Tweenies and shouted, ‘The Tweenie Clock, where will it stop?’ He did a great impression of Jake. Eliza would have thought this adorable if they’d had children, but they didn’t, so, as it was, she thought it was stupid. Finally Greg settled on MTV. She knew he’d be scratching his stomach and wondering what to wear to the club tonight.
    What a man, she sighed.
    Eliza continued to pack her clothes. She didn’t really know what to take. She’d noticed that whenever anyoneever left anyone on TV they always packed one neat case. How was that possible? Eliza had already filled a rucksack, a suitcase, a vanity case and three bin liners. She hadn’t even opened her summer wardrobe. Perhaps she didn’t need that black roll neck – she had packed two others, she could come back for it. Eliza sat on the bed and stroked the duvet. Why was she worrying about what to pack when what she should be worrying about was what to say to Greg? She rubbed her hand across their duvet again; it felt cool and smooth, nice. It was just a cotton thing from Debenhams, nothing particularly special, so why did touching it make her stomach lurch? She lay down to smell it. It smelt of Dog and Greg.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    Eliza jerked upright at the sound of Greg’s voice; he stood in the doorway smoking a cigarette. She hated him smoking in the bedroom.
    ‘Smelling the bed.’
    ‘I can see that. I mean, what are these bags about? Are you feng shui-ing your wardrobe?’ Greg was trying, and failing, not to sound amused. He was very aware of Eliza’s constant (and doomed) quest for a neater, more efficient, more financially successful self. He really didn’t get it. He didn’t get her compulsion to buy every book on the market that dangled the carrot of an improved self. She didn’t need improving. She was pretty damn fly as far as he was concerned. If he were squeezed to name a fault in her, he might say that she was a bit too hung up on appearances, but that only manifested itself in this quirky habit of buying in to feng shui, self-improvement, self-help crap.
    ‘No. I’m not feng shui-ing.’
    ‘Car boot sale?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Don’t tell me, you’re running away with the guy from the corner shop?’ laughed Greg. It was an ongoing joke that the guy in their local shop really fancied Eliza; he was ninety if he was a day. Still, occasionally, the infatuation had been useful when Greg had needed something on tick. In one swift movement, Greg threw himself on to the bed and the bags off it. The clothes spilt out on to the floor. Greg cupped Eliza’s breast and started to kiss her leg through her sweat pants. He hadn’t even bothered to stub out his fag.
    ‘Look at the mess you’ve made,’ complained Eliza. ‘Everything will be creased now.’ In fact the clothes hadn’t been ironed; they both thought ironing was a tedious waste of time and, besides, Eliza had thrown things into the case in a more than haphazard manner. Greg knew all this and so didn’t bother to defend himself. Instead he increased the intensity of his kisses and tried to edge Eliza’s T-shirt up above her bra.
    Eliza broke away. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
    ‘How can that be?’ The question was genuine.
    ‘I can’t just switch it on like that,’ lied Eliza. In all honesty, she found it almost impossible to resist Greg and he could always just switch her on like that, by kissing her leg, stroking her hair, staring at her, eating spaghetti – lots of ways, actually. Right now, that annoyed her intensely.
    ‘What’s up, chick?’ asked Greg as he gently thumbed Eliza’s left nipple.
    ‘Where’ve you been?’ This question was asked as a stalling tactic rather than from any genuine curiosity.
    ‘At Bob’s, jamming. We’ve been doing something