‘Central Hospital, Glasgow, can I help you?’
‘Ward 34 please.’
She knew where Ken’s wife worked. It was one of those details she’d sussed years ago. She’d even seen her once, when she’d persuaded a locum to give her a tour of the ward on the premise of a marketing survey. Short. Dark auburn hair, swept back in a bun. No make-up. Completely forgettable. It blew her mind that Ken could be with a woman like this.
‘Ward 34, can I help you?’
It took her a split second to realise that the thudding sound was her heart beating out of her chest. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to be that cliché – the mistress that toldthe wife what was going on so she could have the guy all to herself?
‘Yes, can I speak to Sister Manson, please? Bernadette Manson.’
Apparently she was.
‘Sorry, Sister Manson isn’t on duty today. Can I take a message?’
There was a pause as Lila fought to control an explosion of emotions. Disappointment. Annoyance. Despair. Impatience. And yes, perhaps a small tad of relief.
‘No, that’s okay, I’ll call back tomorrow.’
Would she? Would she really?
She hung up, a sheen of sweat popping out above her Revlon red lipstick.
No, she wouldn’t call back tomorrow. This had to happen today. Right now. Winners remove obstacles. Sure, Ken might be pissed off initially, but the last six months they’d spent apart had shown him that he couldn’t live without her. They were meant to be together, so what was the point in waiting any longer? He’d thank her when she was riding on top of him in a bungalow suite at Sandy Lane on their honeymoon.
She picked up her phone and stared at it for a few seconds, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. That last call had been rash. Impulsive. This time, she wanted to think it through, be prepared for what was going to come back on the other end.
Be sympathetic, caring even, but firm.
‘Bernadette? My name is Lila Anderson. I’m afraid I have some news that you might find disturbing, so I’ll come straight to the point.’
Too direct? Too harsh? Too alarming?
‘Bernadette, my name is Lila Anderson. I’m calling to talk to you about your husband, Ken…’
That made it sound like she was about to tell her he’d been run over by a bus. Or that he needed a top-up on his travel insurance.
‘Bernadette, this is Lila Anderson, your husband’s mistress. Yes, he’s a great shag, isn’t he?’
At least that one made her smile and took the heart rate down a notch or two. Maybe she should wait. Yes, that’s what she should do. Go, have glorious, earth-trembling sex with Ken, then see how she felt after that. Only, she knew the answer already. She’d feel cheated. Sad when he left. Immediately followed by irritation that he wouldn’t make the move he’d been promising for years.
She snatched the phone up before she could change her mind, then scrolled down to the number that had been sitting there, like an unexploded landmine, since about a month after she met the dashing doctor for the first time. She’d got it from his phone, stored it, knowing there would be a day she might want to use it.
That day was today.
Time to win the end game.
She blocked her caller ID just to be cautious, then pressed the phone call button next to ‘Ken, home’.
It rang.
‘Hello, Bernadette, my name is Lila Anderson. I’m a friend of Ken’s. I wonder if we could meet and talk?’
Yes, that was it.
Still ringing.
Face to face. It would be uncomfortable, but that way Bernadette could see the competition, realise that she didn’thave any chance of winning and she’d walk away. Job done. Obstacle removed.
