Georgina fished a tissue out of her bag and handed it over.
‘Hormones,’ Bernadette murmured gratefully.
The two women went back to their seats arm in arm, and Kenneth’s face was a picture as he watched them. When they sat down on either side of him, she saw Georgina lean in towards him but was the only one close enough to hear what she said.
‘You’ve flirted with me all night and your wife was sitting on the other side of you the whole time. You really are a dick.’ With that, she toppled a glass of red wine into his lap.
It was all Bernadette could do not to give her a standing ovation.
But oh, how she paid for that moment.
Kenneth was seething, absolutely raging. The worst ever. When they got home, he waited for her mother to leave in a taxi, then he ranted and raged, he called her every name underthe sun and a few more. Even Stuart waking for a feed didn’t stop the torrent of abuse. She was worthless. Pathetic. A piece of crap that only had a place in this world because of him. Rant after rant, he delivered one cruel, snide comment after another. That was a turning point. The end of them. That night, something inside her broke. Never again had anyone challenged his insidious ways. Until now.
That thought made her realise that she was wasting time here. Why was she still waiting around, picking up things that were easily replaceable, when she could just go, drop everything off and be done with dragging out this stress?
She had to come back and tell him, that went without saying. Sure, she could leave a note, or phone him, or send him a bloody email, but that would only be delaying the inevitable and she would live in a perpetual state of anxiety waiting for it to happen.
No, she was going to do this and she was going to do it right.
She was going to face him, to look him in the eye, and she was going to stand up to him.
It was the only way she’d be able to sleep at night.
‘You still on the phone?’ Sarah’s voice behind her.
Bernadette turned around and shook her head. ‘No, it was just the kids, checking in. Stuart is deeply disappointed that we’re not having an illicit affair.’
‘We can if you want…’ Sarah joked. ‘I mean, I’ve never tried it, but at my age I’ll try anything. I ate quinoa last week.’
Bernadette hooted with laughter. ‘I don’t necessarily think you can compare the two. Okay, that’s it. Let’s just get this lot into the van. There’s honestly nothing else I care about enough to warrant the heart attack I’m about to have at the thought of him walking in that door. I’ve got enough clothes to keep megoing, I’ve got all the kids’ photos, I’ve got the jewellery my mum left me – nothing else matters.’
Sarah nodded. ‘You’re right. Let’s fill her up.’
Downstairs, Bernadette opened the door cagily, checked there was no sign of him. Nope, nothing. The wall clock in the hall said 7 p.m. If the surgery finished on time, he’d be back within the next twenty minutes or so. The anxiety came flooding back. Bravery had its limits and it would appear it was intermittent. A tightness pulled her chest muscles together and she had to steady herself with an internal dialogue. Come on. You’ve got this. Keep going. Just keep on moving.
‘Coast clear,’ she announced, heading out of the door with two huge black bags, Sarah right behind her. They opened the back doors of the van and deposited their loot, then shuttled back and forwards until the last bag was pushed into the packed space. It took all the weight of both of them to squeeze the doors shut, an exertion that had tears streaming down Bernadette’s face – she wasn’t sure if they were of happiness, sadness, stress or relief. Sarah spotted it and held out her hand. Bernadette took it gratefully.
‘You’ve got this, lovely,’ she said.
Bernadette nodded. ‘I’ve been telling myself that all day.’
‘So what next?’
‘We take all this stuff to your house and unpack it.’
Bernadette locked up, and they both jumped into the van, indicating left as they came out of the driveway.
As they passed a Range Rover Evoque on the other side of the road, it was Sarah who noticed the blonde behind the wheel.
‘Wow. There’s something you don’t often see in December.’
‘What?’
‘In that car. The Evoque thingy. There’s a blonde woman in the driver’s seat wearing huge sunglasses. Think we should tell her there’ll be no sun until next June?’
‘Maybe she’s some kind of private investigator on a stake out, Miss Marple,’ Bernadette teased, glad of the momentary break from the nervous dread.
‘If she’s there when we get back, I’m going to investigate,’ Sarah announced. ‘Just in case she’s staking out the joint for a burglary crew to come in and ransack the street.’
