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The Woman Who Knew Everything by Debbie Viggiano (48)


 

Chapter Three
 

For a moment, Daisy and I simply stared at our weeping neighbour.  Henry was having an affair?  Henry?  Was this the same Henry who spent his Saturdays taking Tiffany to London trekking around museums or art galleries, and his Sundays dutifully manicuring the lawn and flowerbeds under Alison’s watchful eye?  Boring Henry?  Impossible!  Daisy was the first to speak.  From her position on the floor at Alison’s feet, she leant forward and touched Alison’s arm.

‘Ali,’ she said gently.  ‘Is there any chance you might be a teensy-weensy bit wrong?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Alison sniffed.  She trumpeted into the already overworked tissue.

‘So you’re not one-hundred percent sure?’ I asked hopefully.

‘I’m ninety-nine percent sure,’ Alison said flatly.  There was a moment’s silence while we contemplated this.  Alison stared blankly at the soggy paper hanky balled up in her hands.

Daisy was the first to speak.  ‘Sorry, Ali, but I think you’re mistaken.  After all, let’s not beat about the bush.  Henry’s fifty.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Alison’s voice was suddenly sharp.

‘Well, without sounding insulting…’ Daisy hesitated, ‘surely he’s past it.’

Alison’s cheeks flushed red.  ‘What are you talking about, Daisy?  Are you suggesting that at the end of Henry’s forty-ninth year and on the stroke of midnight, he was suddenly struck impotent?’  Alison straightened up on the sofa, indignant now.  ‘Is that what you think?  That the moment a male embraces the Big Five-Oh all his teeth fall out, he loses his hair and bits of his body stop working?’

Daisy frowned.  ‘Well…yeah.  I mean Henry’s teeth are whiter than Simon Cowell’s, so I presumed they were false.’

‘Veneers,’ Alison snapped.  ‘Cosmetic dentistry.  They cost an absolute fortune.’

Daisy wasn’t convinced.  ‘Well he lost his hair years ago.  He’s as bald as a snooker ball with a scalp twice as shiny.’

‘He shaves his head to be trendy,’ Alison hissed.

‘I see,’ Daisy said.  She clearly didn’t see at all.  She rocked back on her heels and contemplated Alison.  ‘So are you trying to tell me his willy still works?’

Alison looked affronted.  ‘Yes, Daisy.  It goes up and down.  Mostly up.  But not for me.  Instead he’s ga-ga about…’

‘Who?’  Daisy and I chorused.

‘I don’t know,’ Alison wailed.  ‘A colleague maybe?  He’s always home so late.’

‘You did say he works hard,’ I soothed.

‘Not hard enough to achieve full half-year bonus,’ Alison’s eyes flashed and her mouth disappeared into a tight line.  ‘Without wishing to go into how much money my husband makes, let’s just say that there’s always been plenty of the stuff.  But suddenly I’m being told to limit my spending.  Being asked to use the local hairdresser instead of popping up to Mayfair to see Nicky.  Having Tiffany’s education compromised with Henry refusing to pay for flute lessons.’

‘Well she is already studying clarinet, violin and piano,’ I patted Alison’s hand.

‘Whose side are you on?’ she demanded.

‘Nobody’s!’ I assured hastily.  ‘I’m just thinking of Tiffany trying to fit another instrument into her already busy schedule.’  I did sometimes wonder what planet Alison was on when it came to her daughter’s education.

‘And do you know what he said to me this morning?’ she gasped and clutched her chest dramatically.

‘What?’ Daisy and I chorused.

‘He told me to stop shopping at Waitrose and to go to,’ she gave a little shriek, ‘Asda.’

‘I go to Asda,’ said Daisy indignantly.

‘I’m sure it’s perfectly all right for people like you, Daisy,’ Alison said patronisingly, ‘but I really don’t want to shop in a store where people are still wearing their pyjamas.’

‘Have you been spying on me?’ Daisy narrowed her eyes.

Alison tutted.  ‘I have better things to do with my time than check out your shopping attire, Daisy.’

I giggled and nudged Daisy.  ‘You’ve never gone to Asda in your PJs, have you?’

‘Only twice,’ Daisy sighed.  ‘The last time I did it the security guard wouldn’t let me in the store.’

‘And rightly so,’ Alison’s chin jutted.  ‘Don’t you ever get fed up of lounging around in your nightwear?’

‘No,’ Daisy shook her head.  ‘It’s comfortable.  Why on earth would I want to wear cashmere in the morning when I’m frying eggs and stirring beans?’

‘Well if you slice up some fresh melon, strawberries and grapes on a side plate, and give Tom and the children homemade muesli with organic milk, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being swathed in cashmere.  I don’t wish to be unkind, Daisy, but how on earth do you attract Tom’s attention when you always look like you’ve fallen into a wheelie bin?’

‘Ali, I don’t wish to be unkind either, but if you don’t shut up insulting me in my own house I might punch your lights out.’

Alison glared at Daisy for a moment, but then visibly crumpled. ‘Sorry.  I’m a bit stressed.’

Daisy, never one to hold a grudge, leant forward and gave our neighbour a hug before sitting down next to her.  ‘So tell me and Florrie the reasons why you think Henry is having an affair.’

‘Well,’ Alison shifted in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable.  ‘We don’t…’ Daisy and I looked at her expectantly.  ‘You know.’

Daisy looked mystified.  ‘What?’

‘You know,’ Alison repeated, suddenly awkward.  Clearly her prissy upbringing was well and truly coming to the fore right now.  ‘We don’t have…sex.’  She mouthed the last word again.  ‘Well, hardly ever anyway.’

‘Ahh,’ said Daisy, the dawn suddenly coming up.  ‘Because you no longer fancy Henry.’

‘Sorry?’  Now it was Alison’s turn to look confounded.

‘Well, he is fifty, isn’t he?’ Daisy reasoned.  ‘And you’re only thirty-seven.  It’s quite an age gap.  You’re probably still revving up in the loins department whereas Henry probably needs Viagra.’

‘I’ve already told you his dangly bit goes up and down.  Why would he need Viagra?’

‘Oh.  Is it you who needs Viagra?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Daisy.  Neither of us need Viagra.  And why do you keep going on about Henry’s age?’  Alison was getting agitated again.  ‘He’s a very sexy man.’

‘Is he?’  Daisy looked across at me for confirmation.

To be honest, Henry didn’t make me swoon.  Not remotely.  But I couldn’t say that to Alison.  I nodded at Daisy.  ‘Mmm.  Henry is very…sort of…Kojak,’ I nodded.

‘Kojak?’  Daisy’s eyebrows shot upwards.  ‘You mean the bald guy with the big nose?’

‘The very one,’ I tried to give Daisy a discreet pleading look for tact.  ‘Absolute pin-up in his heyday.’

‘Exactly,’ said Alison smugly.  ‘Henry is extremely sexy to lots of women.  But somebody out there isn’t just finding him sexy, they are getting the full works.’

‘The works?’  Daisy looked blank.

‘Yes!’  Alison said impatiently.  ‘Some woman is availing her services to him.’

‘Services!’ Daisy scoffed.  ‘Why can’t you just talk like me and Florrie and say that some two-faced tart is bonking him.’

‘Daisy,’ said Alison in a pained voice.  ‘We’ve known each other for a few years now.  When have you ever heard me use the word…’ she paused before mouthing, ‘bonk?’

‘Oh stop being so uptight, Ali,’ Daisy pooh-poohed our neighbour’s rigid desire to behave like a lady at all times.  ‘It’s high time you loosened up and said things how they are – Henry’s todger still works and he’s waving it around at some female and rogering her senseless.’

Alison gave a little gasp at such frankness, but Daisy ploughed on regardless.

‘If you really think this is the case, then you must confront Henry.  Preferably when armed with a rolling pin.  But not when you have PMT,’ Daisy added hastily.  ‘You don’t want to make a mess over the carpet.’

‘Daisy, you really aren’t helping,’ Alison cried in exasperation.

‘So to get back on topic,’ I prompted.  ‘Do you have evidence of this suspected affair?’

Alison took a deep breath.  ‘I think so.  Yes.’  She closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to blot out an awful memory.  When she opened them again they were far away, clearly recalling something unpleasant. ‘I went through Henry’s last few credit card statements looking for clues.’  She paused, struggling for composure.  ‘Last Christmas he spent thousands of pounds at a Hatton Garden jeweller.  He bought two bracelets.  I received one of them.’

‘Perhaps he’s saving the other bracelet for your birthday,’ I suggested.

Alison shook her head.  ‘No.  You see, I rang the jeweller in question.  Both bracelets were identical.’

Daisy frowned.  ‘Why would Henry buy two identical bracelets?’

‘I’m coming to that,’ Alison’s lip wobbled slightly.  ‘My bracelet had an inscription on the inside.  It said, “To dear Alison with love from Henry.”  I asked the jeweller if the other bracelet had been inscribed with a message.  The jeweller confirmed this to be the case.  I asked him what the engraving was.’  Alison’s voice cracked slightly.  ‘The jeweller went off to check the paperwork.’

Suddenly Daisy and I were holding our breath.

‘And?’ Daisy prompted.  She looked both fascinated and horrified.  There had never been a situation like this on the Jeremy Kyle show.

When Alison next spoke her voice was little more than a whimper.  ‘The inscription on the second bracelet had said, “To the most beautiful woman in the world with all my love.”’

The breath whooshed out of Daisy and I in one big chuggy gasp.

‘Oh,’ we chorused.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ Alison wailed.

We contemplated for a moment.  What to do indeed.

‘Do you still love Henry?’ Daisy asked.

‘Of course!’ she said looking shocked.  ‘I have a beautiful house, my daughter is in the best school for miles, and I’m accepted into the homes of people like Harriet Montgomery.’

‘That’s not love,’ I said gently.  ‘That’s a lifestyle.’

‘Same thing,’ Alison snapped.  ‘I love my lifestyle.  And I’m not about to have it jeopardised by some little hussy with a nose piercing and a skirt hem up round her ear lobes.’

‘Do you know who she is then?’ I asked.

‘I’ve a good idea,’ Alison’s eyes narrowed.  ‘One of the secretaries was all over him at the Christmas ‘do’.  A typical cliché of a woman.  Peroxide blonde hair.  Cheap red lipstick.  I could almost see a flashing neon sign over her head saying “I want you to be my Sugar Daddy.”’

‘I see,’ Daisy puffed out her cheeks.  ‘So do you actually want to stay married to Henry?’

‘Of course I want to stay married to Henry,’ Alison snapped.

‘Well in that case,’ Daisy said conspiratorially, ‘we’re going to have to catch Henry out.’  She looked from Alison to me, her eyes shining like they did when she first opened the door to us an hour ago.  ‘We’re going to set a trap.’

 

 

 

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