The art of deception Read online

  As she scanned down her list, she came across Emma Jenkins and her sister Nicki.

  They’d gone to Dexford College together and had loads of laughs. Lots of boys were after them and they used to love playing one off against another. She could text them … Yes. Why not?

  Angie was stunned when Emma phoned half an hour later.

  ‘Angie, I didn’t know you were around. I thought you were all settled down and married?’

  ‘I am, but we’re separated. I wondered if you fancied meeting up – unless you have other plans. Be like old times.’

  ‘Well, as it happens, both me and Nicki [AB19]are in between boyfriends. We still go to Jeeves nightclub at weekends … and we’re both free tonight. Come out with us! There’s lots to catch up on. You’d be surprised at the eventful lives we’ve led. You’ll laugh, I promise you!’

  ‘Yeah, I certainly feel like a bit of a laugh after what’s happened. I need a good night out with my friends, you’re all I’ve got left now.’

  ‘Ah, that’s nice. We’ll make sure you have a good time, Angie. I’ll hire a taxi and ask the driver to pick you up at ten o’clock, shall I?’

  ‘You’ve made my day.’

  ‘Until later on, then.’

  <><><>

  When she got off the phone, she yelped with joy. This was what she’d been lacking, and she intended making the most of it.

  She washed her hair, put on her best turquoise dress, and did her make-up.

  Not [AB20]until she came downstairs did her father suspect.

  He looked up from the TV, narrowing his eyes at her. ‘Why are you so dressed up at this time of night? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed?’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. I’m out clubbing tonight.’

  ‘You? I thought you were a bit past that stage?’

  ‘Dad, I’m only twenty-five.’

  ‘And a married woman, too, with a baby.’

  ‘For God’s sake. You sound like John. We’re not a couple anymore and I’m no longer a mother, either. So why shouldn’t I go out for one night? I’m not after another man. All I want is a good time with my mates.’

  pg. 168

  ‘Angie, I can’t stop you, and I wouldn’t even try. You’re your own woman, have been for a while. I could voice an opinion, but at the end of the day, the choice is yours.’

  ‘Yes, Dad. I’ll do what’s best for me.’

  Ten minutes later, a car horn beeped outside.

  ‘That must be my taxi. Don’t wait up, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.’

  ‘I’m sure you can.’

  ‘I’ll be with Emma and Nicki Jenkins. Remember them from my college days?’

  ‘Oh, the sisters? Didn’t you get into lots of scrapes with them?’

  ‘One or two. But they’re a laugh, and that’s just what I need. Speak in the morning.’

  He smiled.

  It was raining outside, so she pulled up the collar of her coat. The door of the taxi opened, allowing her to get in without getting too wet. Emma and Nicki sat there, looking much the same as ever, and giggled as Angie flopped down beside them.

  ‘Angie, great to see you,’ Emma said, a smile on her face.

  ‘Angie!’ Nicki cried, hugging her old friend. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Oh, not too bad. All the better for seeing you two.’

  ‘We’ve got loads to tell you – it’ll make your toes curl.’

  ‘I’ve a few tales myself,’ Angie grinned.

  Once inside Jeeves, they found themselves a table at the side of the room.

  Music boomed out; the dance floor was filled with revellers dancing to the beat.

  Angie’s hands were shaking; she hoped her friends hadn’t noticed. She’d had two cocktails which did nothing to stem her panic. ‘Why don’t we go out on the dancefloor? Let’s find out if we still have that magic touch.’

  The three of them danced by each other, laughing and giggling, having fun, but Angie still felt light-headed and nervous. She needed another drink. At the bar by herself, she picked up her drink and caught sight of a man looking at her.

  He leered at her as he took a sip of his pint. ‘Hallo, pretty lady.’

  Angie ignored him and made to walk to her friends. He grabbed hold of her arm. Alarm flooded through her veins.

  ‘Hey, I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me, you ignorant bitch.’

  ‘Please leave me alone.’

  ‘Only trying to be civil. Think you’re too good for the likes of me – well, you’re not. Sure, you’re a looker, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.’

  ‘Let go of me!’ Angie wrenched her arm away then, in desperation, she threw the contents of her drink over him. His eyes widened. ‘You fucking cow,’

  he growled but before he could react further, she pulled back her hand and slapped him hard across the face. The man moaned, touching his now red cheek. Angie pg. 169

  rushed off, losing herself among the throngs of people, shaking with anger and fear as the adrenaline kicked in.

  She gasped in shock, certain someone must have seen what had happened.

  But it served the guy right.

  But she hadn’t got the drink she needed. She spotted two on an empty table; after gulping down what was left in the glasses, she giggled to herself at her own audacity.

  Returning to where her friends were dancing, she smiled at them. Emma shouted in her ear. ‘What’s going on at the bar? Sounded like a fight?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why I’m back so quickly. This girl slapped this guy’s face right in front of everybody. I never got my drink.’

  ‘What say we get out of here, if there’s trouble. The Groundhog across the road, maybe?’

  ‘Great idea, the night is young.’

  By the time they’d got into the new club, she was a little drunk but despite this and her friends’ constant chatter and high-pitched giggling, she felt miserable. The alcohol, the dancing, the looks from men; none of it made any difference to her state of mind.

  ‘You all right?’ Emma asked. ‘You seem quiet. Is it that kerfuffle back at Jeeves?’

  ‘No. It’s just that you two are having a great time, while here’s me so miserable. With nothing or no one. I’m a failure, pure and simple. What did I do to deserve this?’

  ‘Angie, what’s wrong? I thought you were happily married, with a big house, a good job and a wonderful husband,’ Nicki said.

  ‘It hasn’t lasted. Oh, sure, I had all that and more, but it’s gone. And I’m in a mess.’

  ‘How do you mean?’ Emma looked bewildered.

  ‘He ran off with another woman and took our son with him.’

  ‘He did what? But why?’

  ‘That’s what I keep asking myself. The bastard. The thing is, he became a househusband, because I earned more money than him. Well, while I was at work, slaving my guts out, he meets this slut at a mother and baby group, would you believe?’

  ‘Wow, Angie, that's devastating,’ Emma said. ‘Have you tried to persuade him to come back?’

  ‘I would if I could find him. He’s vanished off the face of the earth and took our life savings with him. He could be anywhere.’

  ‘How about the police? It’s kidnapping, surely? They’ll trace them.’

  Angie shook her head. ‘I had to move in with my dad, because I hate it in that great big house on my own.’

  ‘Oh, Angie. If only we could help.’

  pg. 170

  ‘It’s helped, being with you guys again. You’ve no idea how much I’ve missed you. I wish I’d never met the guy. What makes a man do that? I trusted him and look what I got in return. I’d love to throttle the bastard.’ Angie finished her drink. ‘Anyone want another one?’

  ‘Hey, Angie, haven’t you had enough? It won’t change anything,’ Nicki said.

  ‘No, nowhere near. So, what’s your poison?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’

  Emma shook her head.

 
‘Neither of you. OK, suit yourselves.’

  Angie stood up but once she was on her feet, her head was spinning. As though on a boat in the roughest of seas, she collapsed to the ground.

  <><><>

  They were in the taxi. Angie knew of her friends’ presence but her images of them were blurred. She had a vague memory of throwing up and she knew her stomach ached. They were talking to her, but she couldn't take it in. Each had an arm around her as she sobbed.

  The taxi jolted to a halt. ‘Come on, Angie, time to get out,’ Nicki said.

  ‘Mm,’ she muttered as they dragged her from the car and up the drive to the front door. Emma rang the bell. A light flickered on upstairs, then the window opened.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Angie’s dad asked.

  ‘Got Angie here. Sorry, but she’s had too much to drink. Mind taking her off our hands?’

  ‘No, not at all. Give me a minute.’

  He came out and picked Angie up. ‘Thanks for bringing her home. I’ll get her to bed.’

  He carried her upstairs, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot, and laid her on her side[AB21].

  ‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, getting in this state at your age. Best sleep it off, you’ll get no sympathy from me.’

  He slammed the door shut and left her to her incoherent mumbling and her tears.

  Soon she slipped into a troubled sleep, a nightmare of when her mum had died. She saw the terrified look on her mum’s face as she fell off the cliff. In the early hours, she woke, trembling, her head pounding as if a hammer kept on hitting it.

  Her watch said five o’clock. She needed something to calm her. But not a drink as it would make her sick. And then she thought of the antidepressants the doctor had prescribed; they were in her toilet bag, in the bathroom. She fetched them and took two, to be on the safe side; one extra couldn’t do any harm.

  pg. 171

  She went back to bed and went out like a light. When she woke again, she saw the sun shining through her bedroom window, and checked the clock on her bedside table. Eleven o’clock. She felt groggy and fought to keep her eyes open.

  Time to get up, she thought, still finding it hard to stay awake. In the bathroom, she splashed herself with cold water, which almost brought tears to her eyes.

  Down in the kitchen, her dad sat sipping coffee. The smell made her gag.

  ‘So, you’re awake at last,’ he said. ‘Got a sore head, have you, after last night?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘What possessed you to do such a stupid thing?’

  ‘I don’t know. I was depressed, and I thought going out with the girls might buck me up. When it didn’t, I had a few more drinks – but they didn’t help either.’

  ‘You should know better.’

  ‘Dad, stop getting onto me, will you? I feel bad enough.’

  ‘OK, sorry. I should have been more tactful, I suppose.’

  He went over to the kettle and switched it on. ‘Like a drink? Something to eat?’

  ‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ she said, soothing her brow with her hand. She didn’t feel like talking to him right now. Wasn’t it enough that she’d made a fool of herself in front of everybody?

  <><><>

  On Tuesday morning, John woke early with a jolt. He’d been dreaming of Sarah and Angie fighting over him; he had been unable to pull them apart. He couldn’t stop thinking of Angie, wondering what she was doing. He’d still take her back, despite her tantrums; he still believed the old Angie he’d loved so much was in there somewhere. What if he’d let her go too easily? And now he’d done nothing about contacting her apart from texting, since she’d threatened him. If he rang her dad, would he let him speak to her? Surely he’d want them to stay together. But would he cooperate or side with his daughter?

  During his morning break at work, he went outside, took out his mobile and pressed it to ring Alan’s phone.

  John waited with bated breath but after only six rings, he answered.

  ‘Hallo?’

  ‘Alan, this is John. Wondered if Angie’s with you … and if so, could I speak to her?’

  ‘Sorry John, she isn’t.’

  ‘Is she staying with you?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘I presume you’re aware of what’s happened between us?’

  ‘Yes, she told me.’

  ‘Well, if she’s not there, do you have a contact number?’

  pg. 172

  ‘I’m sorry, John. I can’t give you any information without Angie’s permission.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Alan. This isn’t good for anyone. A husband without his wife, a baby without his mother. I just want to bring her back to us. Please, Alan.’

  ‘Look, whatever’s going on between you has nothing to do with me. I’m not taking sides, nor will I interfere. I’ll pass on a message for you, but nothing more. Then it’s up to her.’

  ‘Ask her to contact me so we can discuss a few things. She is living with you, isn’t she? I saw her car parked outside your house.’

  There was a silence that spoke volumes.

  ‘What if I came knocking on your door, demanding to see her?’

  ‘You do and I’ll get the law onto you – and that’s a promise.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’d never do that. I realise she’s unwell but if she just came home I’m sure it would aid her recovery.’

  Alan was silent for another moment, and it raised John’s hopes.

  ‘All right John, I’ll tell her what you said. If it’s any consolation, I’d certainly be happy if you were together again. Bye.’

  So, there was a glimmer of hope. But if she refused, what then? He didn’t like to think about that.

  <><><>

  After some time, Angie finally looked up to see her dad staring at her, scratching the back of his head. ‘Had a phone call earlier on while you were out of it. From John.’

  She felt the colour drain from her face. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Don’t fret – he was fine, just worried about you. I didn’t give anything away, but he asked if you’d contact him. He wants to talk about where you two go from here.’

  ‘I’m not speaking to him. He’ll only cry like a baby when I tell him I won’t go back, so it’s out of the question.’

  ‘Send him a text or write him a letter, then – explain how things are and what you want.’

  ‘How can I, when I have no idea myself?’

  ‘Don’t keep him hanging on. The poor man needs to know where he stands.’

  ‘Hey, whose side are you on?

  ‘No one’s. I’m on the fence, the adjudicator trying to find an answer to this problem.’

  ‘I had the solution, Dad, but he didn’t listen. Adoption would have solved everything. But no, he wouldn’t consider my feelings.’

  ‘Darling, what father would give up his own son? He’s grown to love him, as well you might expect.’

  pg. 173

  She tutted. ‘The subject is closed. And if he rings again, or comes around here, or writes to me, there’ll be trouble. I’ll slam the door in his face. When I get a place of my own, you’re not to tell him where I am.’

  ‘So you’re still going through with this? Because of Rachel?’

  ‘Dad, haven’t you got a workshop to go to? I’m sick of being in the same room as you. Yes, I’m going through with it, and I’ll be glad to leave, with you nagging me all day long!’

  Alan drank his coffee and ignored her outburst. Eventually he said, ‘Don’t fret, love – give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of the day.’

  But when he’d gone, tears flowed onto her cheeks. She regretted being so horrid – if only he’d stop slagging her off.

  She decided to check her emails; there were three replies to job applications. One had no vacancies, the other two asked her to fill in their own specific online application forms. What a perfect way to pass the time.

  She took over an hour t
o fill them in then, looking at her phone, she noticed a text from Emma and Nicki, asking if she was OK. How nice of them to be concerned. She sent a message saying how sorry she was for her behaviour and hoping they might forgive her, but didn’t hold out any hope of a reply.

  Up in her room, she tried to sleep.

  A little later, she was woken by a gentle knock; her dad popped his head around the door with a smile.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he asked in a quiet, soothing voice.

  ‘I’ve been better.’

  ‘Had a phone call from Rachel, she’s invited us for dinner tomorrow night at the Gypsy’s Tent in Broadcastle. She specifically asked that you come. Please, Angie – will you, as a favour to me?’

  ‘A favour to you, eh? Well, that’s an offer I dare not refuse.’

  ‘So, you’ll come?’

  ‘I have to consult my diary. I imagine I’m booked up, so I’ll have to put someone off.’

  ‘Oh, in that case …’

  ‘Only joking.’

  ‘You got me going then.’

  ‘What time?’

  ‘Seven? We’re to meet her in the car park.’

  ‘Promise I’ll be teetotal.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad of that.’

  ‘It’ll be nice to dress up, anyway.’

  When he’d gone, she shook her head in wonder. How the hell had she talked herself into that? It appeared he still had a hold over her with certain things, because the idea of dining with them certainly didn’t fill her with enthusiasm.

  pg. 174

  Chapter 34

  ednesday morning, John got up early with a groan, pondering over work and driving baby AJ over to his parents. It was the same mad W rush every day of the week, and then the guilt over leaving his son with them. He dreaded twelve months’ time when the lad was crawling and possibly walking. Still, that was a long way off yet.

  ‘How goes it, son?’ George asked once he had AJ and his things in the house.

  ‘Oh, not bad. It’s hard but I’m carrying on, I suppose. The worst part is taking him with me when I go out. Especially when I want to buy clothes or visit the supermarket.’