Imogen smiled. She followed him into his house and he got her a glass of water. ‘Carol at yoga?’ she asked, still needing to check, even knowing that the very fact of her being inside meant Carol was out.
‘She is,’ said James. He came over and kissed her, then she followed him upstairs. There were five spare bedrooms in the house but ‘theirs’ was the green one, as it faced over the front driveway. Just in case. It was possible to hear if a car drove up. Within minutes they were naked.
Afterwards, they lay entangled in the sheets, Imogen enjoying James stroking her skin.
‘Nice dinner last night,’ said James. ‘You must give that potato recipe to Carol.’
Imogen rolled her eyes. ‘I’m sure Carol has her own recipes,’ she said drily. When he was like this, she understood why Dylan said he was so egotistical. But he was kind too, that she knew. In fact, it was his kindness that had brought them together. Soon after everything had come crashing down for her, Imogen had been on one of her runs, her mood bleak. She’d stumbled in the lane near his house, twisted her ankle badly and been unable to walk. Fortunately, James had been on his way home and he’d picked her upand helped her limp into his house, where he’d strapped the ankle and found an icepack. She’d been so taken aback by the act of kindness after everything that had happened, she’d burst into tears.
He had put his arm around her and in his nice, large house, which was a warm, familiar environment after having her own nice, large house taken from her, she had felt safe, as if she was back where she belonged. They had ended up having sex on the living room rug. Then he’d driven her home.
She’d felt guilty for days afterwards and had initially vowed not to cheat on Dylan again. In any case, she’d been more or less housebound being on crutches for a couple of weeks, going stir-crazy in the tiny cottage she’d been reduced to. Then James had got in touch and suggested they go running together next time. Just in case she should fall again. She thought of being in his house, of the balm it gave to her broken ambitions, the losses that still felt so raw, and she had agreed. Only to run, she told herself, even while knowing she was deluding herself. Of course they had slept together and now they ‘ran’ together most weekends while Carol was at her exercise classes.
They both enjoyed it but for James it meant more, Imogen knew. An ego stroke. She was only forty, eighteen years his junior. And she held a certain status in the village that was attractive to him. One weekend she’d texted to say she couldn’t make a run and was surprised by how much this disappointed him. He had practically begged her to change her mind, but she’d made him wait another week. It hadbeen worth it to see how much he wanted her. She had felt appreciated. Recognized for her value. Not that Dylan didn’t do that, but it was frustrating when he didn’t get her point of view. Like last night, failing to grasp how important it was to get the right school for Rosie. She sighed deeply.
‘What’s up?’ said James.
‘This whole Kingsgate thing. Dylan not wanting to go for the job.’
‘He’s stubborn, isn’t he?’
She shrugged. ‘He’s got strong opinions.’
‘That’s fine as long as you don’t use your child as a social experiment in order to prove them.’
Imogen couldn’t agree more. And she had lain awake last night trying to think of a way round it. It wasn’t the only thing that had kept her awake. Before all the agony in the water, Lorna had mentioned something to her at the party that had really rankled. Something about Nancy musing about looking into the lease on what used to be her beautiful restaurant. It had gone round and round in her head. That woman taking her house, her child trying to drown Rosie and, not satisfied with those two despicable acts, also wanting to take over her old business premises.
At about three in the morning, Imogen had had an idea.
She rested her hand on James’s bare chest. Leaned up on her elbow and gave him her most attractive smile.
‘James?’ she said, caressing his skin. ‘I have a proposal for you.’
TWELVE
Monday 7 September
‘There she is,’ said Erin, nudging Imogen’s shoulder and indicating over to the entrance gate where Nancy was walking in with Lara. ‘As brazen as you like.’
‘She still has to go to school, Erin,’ said Hannah. ‘What do you want her to do, come in in sackcloth and ashes?’
Imogen cut Nancy and Lara an icy glare. ‘I’ve already let the school know what happened so they will be keeping an extra close eye on her.’
‘Imagine being her mother,’ said Nicole, shuddering. ‘You’d be horrified.’
‘Unless it’s her parenting,’ said Erin. ‘We don’t know what it’s like in their home, remember.’
On the other side of the playground, Nancy could feel the animosity coming over towards her in waves. Those who weren’t giving her cold stares had their backs turned. She sighed.
A child walked past her, turned her head. It was Tilly, Erin’s kid.
‘I speak to my mum not in sentences but in spelling out. I-M-G-O-O-D-A-T-I-T,’ said Tilly. Then she sauntered off.
‘Tilly regaling you with her latest achievements?’ said Lorna, approaching.
Nancy turned, grateful for a friendly face. ‘She’s quite the achiever.’
‘Yes. I’m not really keen on the boasting approach though. Better to keep things under your hat,’ said Lorna without a hint of irony. ‘You still OK for the PTA meeting later?’
