Silver Ch 03 05

Three

As Nick snored beneath the sheets, his wife and daughter sashayed through the West End to Dimanche, causing heads to turn. A good choice aesthetically, a bad one in terms of practicality, Debra had to keep hoisting up the front of her dress to reveal a little less cleavage. Jan had always considered her daughter lucky: not only had she inherited each parents' best attributes but a pair of d-cup boobs that were nowhere to be found in the family ancestry. Heads continued to turn, though it wasn't just on the younger woman's account. Despite being a mid forties mother of two, even without the killer figure Jan still drew admiration from men of all ages.

As Dimanche was one of the hip places to be seen in London, hopeful photographers besieged the door as the pair threaded past, feeling important. Inside there were one or two faces Jan thought she recognised, though none worth betraying her dignity to gawp at and, as they took their seats, other less well heeled diners tried to work out who they might be. At the next table along, admiring glances came from two handsome young men in black dinner jackets.

Two bottles of fine vintage helped wash down a fashionably sparse yet satisfying meal and, as they debated pudding, the dinner jacketed young man with filmstar looks, a rack of emulsion white teeth, scintillating green eyes and a shaven head leaned back, enquiring in a French accent: 'Does eezer of you lay-deez 'ave a light?'

'Sorry pet Ah does nee smirk,' Jan replied.

'Eet eez okay,' came the response, 'eet's a feelthy 'abit anyway.'

The companion who had remained silent up to that point suddenly swung his chair around. A little older but no less dashing, he had closely cropped hair with the added appeal of sideburns on a stubbly chiselled chin and a beetle-like mono eyebrow. Debra glanced across to see her mother stifle the urge to giggle as the realisation dawned that a pickup was in progress. Neither minded unduly, however, mellow from the wine as introductions were made. 'I am Pascal and zis is Christian.'

After the women had introduced themselves, aware of the normal calibre of clientele, the older one Pascal enquired: 'You eez famous lay-deez in Enger-land, yes?'

'Nah pet, not ree-lee, although Debbie here used to be a model.'

'Ah, zee catwalk,' sighed Pascal. 'And you Jan, you model too, no?'

Jan giggled like a teen. 'Oh nah, I'm an osteopath...I treat people's bad backs.'

Pascal rolled his shoulders as most people did when first told of Jan's vocation. Almost subconsciously Jan licked her lips lightly. Mmm, she could give that strong back a damn good rub right now. Gosh, the wine had gone right to her head. Composing herself she enquired: 'So, you live in London?'

'No, we just vee-zit, Paris eez our home.'

Jan's eyes lit up. It was far too long since Nick had last taken her to their favourite city. At one time it had been like a second home. 'And what do yee two young gentleman dee for a living?'

'We eez musicians, though we eez not very beeg in England yet.'

'Well mebbe one day, pet.'

A pause followed before Pascal enquired: 'You weesh for more wine, yes?'

'That would be nice,' replied Debra before her mother had an opportunity to decline.

'You eez sisters, yes?'

Jan smiled inwardly. She'd been wondering when that particular line would come out. Somehow though, the words carried an air of innocence that would be lacking in a similar enquiry from an Englishman with one thing on his mind. 'Yes we're sisters,' replied Debra with an impish grin.

The bottle despatched, the Frenchmen's interest in 'going on somewhere' prompted a hastened conference in the ladies. So charming, they concurred, it was too good an opportunity to let pass. Jan knew in her mind exactly how far she could go to enjoy a night out without having to hop into bed with every man that showed a passing interest, besides which Debra was a fortnight away from her wedding, with a sensible head on her shoulders. Locating a quiet corner Jan reported home.

* * *

Back in Latham Wood, the ringing of the telephone roused Nick from his slumbers. Too late to catch the person, he poured a glass of water before activating the message. Stealing a look at the clock, he couldn't believe he'd slept this long. This would seriously mess with his carefully rehearsed routine and it was going to be hell getting back to sleep at the right time. 'Hi pet, it's urnly me,' sounded Jan's voice from the machine. 'Debbie and meself are going to have a few more drinks. If it gets late Ah'll probably stay over at hers. Okay, love you, honey.'

Nick smiled, stretching to yawn before noticing that there was a text message on his mobile. Wasn't he the popular one? Surprisingly it was from Kelly Wood: hope ur feeling ok now.

'Awww, that's nice,' he said to himself, before his thoughts took a darker turn.

He imagined that if Kelly had stayed out all day with the guys she'd be blotto by now. If what he'd heard was true, that Pete was one lucky guy – or Matt. Or both – if the other things he'd heard were true. Yet she was texting him. Was it his imagination or had he caught her gazing at him more than once before he'd made a fool of himself? 'You're old enough to be her father,' he said under his breath.

Nick responded to the message: fine thanks, what u up to?

The message came back quickly: we're in blast, y not join us?

Nick rubbed at his chin before responding: love to but not dressed for clubbing.

Nick's eyes bulged at the reply: maybe I should cum 2 u instead.

Remembering Jan's message, he responded: maybe u should.

Immediately the text came back: what about your wife?

Almost subconsciously Nick found himself typing: she's out all night.

* * *

The pubcrawl that followed Nick's departure inevitably led to a nightclub, Latham Wood's very own Blast. With Pete heading to the bar, Kelly sighed, glad of the break. Just four years her senior, he just wasn't sufficiently mature to rouse her passions. Unbeknown to the hopeful writer, Kelly had a dangerous penchant for older men. He had, however, served one useful purpose, diverting the attention of the two young poseurs with spiky fringes and matching attitudes who'd made Kelly their quest for the evening. It tended to be the same wherever she went.

Matt, on the other hand, was more suitable, yet he'd remained staunchly immune to Kelly's flirting all afternoon. The only person he seemed interested in was himself, forever checking his reflection in mirrors and windows.

And then there was Nick, whom Kelly had had a secret crush on for some years. Seeing him again today had certainly re-aroused her interest, the drinks polarising her into action. Such a shame then that he'd had to go so soon.

Pete returned with the drinks and, seeing Kelly engrossed in her mobile to the point of exclusion, he took on a circuit of the club, searching for Matt whilst absent-mindedly talent spotting. Groups of girls caught his eye, yet he only really wanted Kelly, wanted her so much it hurt. The lap completed, he saw that the object of his desire remained hunched over the phone, face lit in its dull glow. Texting, he asserted, was a modern day plague on social intercourse.

There was no sign of Matt on account of the fact that, unbeknown to Pete, his friend was on the way out. The stage of the evening having arrived whereby no matter how much he drank he could not get pissed enough to relax, Matt's ambivalence precluded the ability to enjoy it. One or two clubbers had caught his eye, offering brief hope, but tonight the clientele was not to his taste. Even the amusement derived from watching Pete run after Kelly like a lovesick puppy, and watching Kelly deflect the advances, had worn thin. Taking a last tasteless gulp of lager, he slipped out and into the night.

At the same time Matt was departing the club, a taxi pulled up and two couples alighted. This was all Debra's doing thought Jan, swept along on the tide of enthusiasm. But it did make sense to head out of the West End. At least she could go home at the end of the night, which would be a pleasant surprise for Nick, a very pleasant surprise indeed!

Locating stalls on the circumference of the dancefloor, Jan and Debra shouted into each other's ears until the Frenchmen arrived with two buckets of champagne. Years since Jan had been treated this way, she purred contentedly. Glasses were clinked and the bubbles ingested, after which Pascal led Debra to the floor. Gyrating foxily, the silken top eased down to perch seductively upon her nipples, though Debra didn't seem to care.

From her vantage point Jan felt a pang of envy. Her daughter had a fantastic body and what woman wouldn't want one similar? What man too? Nick for one certainly wasn't immune to the charms of the fuller figured female. Several times recently she'd caught him ogling the balloon-breasted bimbos on the late night porn channel he'd secretly subscribed to. He protested, claiming it was the freeview and, honestly, he liked her the way she was. Later that night in bed she'd analysed the words. He'd said he liked her the way she was, not that he loved her the way she was.

No time for regret, however, there was excitement to be had. Jan suppressed a gasp as the tempo slowed and Debra buried her face deep in Pascal's, smooching sexily. Induced by her own intake and the heady surroundings, she allowed Christian's arm to snake around her waist from behind, his sure fingers caressing her tummy through the light fabric of the gown. Something indistinguishably French yet undoubtedly sexually charged was whispered in her ear and she allowed a gentle nuzzle on her neck before gently brushing him away.

On the other side of the dancefloor, Pete Collins looked around, rueing the missed opportunity with Kelly who had become distant to the point of being unapproachable. Yet it wasn't really his fault. Whoever had been texting Kelly had put paid to his chance. Otherwise surely he'd have been in. Mad as hell for having not been more forthright, he didn't suppose an opportunity like this would ever arise again.

Consolation arrived in the shape of a pretty blonde who stumbled from the dancefloor fanning her face. So many things he'd wanted to say to Kelly, now it was all too late the words tripped off his tongue like poetry. A pretty girl who seemed enchanted by his questionable humour, as hard as he tried Pete couldn't get the image of Kelly out of his head. Everything he could wish for in a girl: bubbly, witty, intelligent and sexy, oh so sexy, in the end he traipsed off home alone. Minutes later Kelly too was heading to the exit. 'Okay then, Nick, let's see what you're made of,' she said under her breath.

* * *

At the same time as his pal Pete Collins was committing relationship suicide, Matt Black arrived home, dabbing painfully at his eye and mouth, his breath heavy. He'd been enjoying a pleasurable amble through the park that had helped take Devilicious off his mind when suddenly things took a nasty turn. Unprovoked, two guys jumped him. No wimp he gave as good as he got, until weight of numbers got the better. A good hiding later, thankfully only a £20 note and some loose change in his pocket were liberated, his pride hurt as much as his person.

The porch light still on, he prayed she was already tucked up in bed. Despite the affliction she would sense something was up, he just knew it. Thankfully the house was still and black, her door shut tight to the world. Creeping to the bathroom, he locked the door behind, easing into the tub, a pool of blood spiralling down the plughole.

* * *

Thankfully commonsense prevailed over alcohol-driven lust and Jan was able to persuade Debra it was for the best to head home. So, whilst the Gallic heart-throbs were otherwise engaged, the pair made good their escape. As they shuffled forward in the taxi queue and fresh air diluted her brain, Debra confessed: 'I think you saved me from doing something really stupid back there, mum.'

'That's what mams are for, you knur.'

Debra ran her tongue around her lips. 'He was pretty damn hot though.'

'Aye, mine wasn't too bad either.'

'Yeah, I noticed.'

Grateful that the black of night concealed her blushes, Jan turned away. Yes, she had been a little indiscreet. Carried away by the night, she'd allowed her guard to drop. She blew hard, trying to expel it from her mind. Fearful Nick might set the alarm, she phoned home once more. 'Hi Nick, pet, herp I didn't wake you, but me and Debs are coming herm after all...'

'Coming home? Here? Where are you?'

'We're in a taxi queue outside Blast.'

'You're outside Blast?'

As she glanced up guiltily, Jan thought she recognised the figure at the head of the queue – wasn't that Kelly? All too quickly, however, the girl was inside and gone. A thought crossed Jan's mind: cheating was so easy, yet so hard.

* * *

Back at home, Nick was discovering that too. Having dashed to the shower in preparation, perversely, the hot water had left him all aquiver, goosebumps dotting his body and a stress rash having erupted on his neck. Despite freshening up, within seconds of arriving downstairs he was sweating profusely, agonising at the madness of the whole charade. And that was before Jan's call threatened to turn his whole world upside down. His faced drained of its colour, taking to the drive he stomped around like a demented morris dancer, soaked through with sweat. A series of earnest messages to Kelly having gone unanswered, he felt a judder, convinced his heart was about to give. Kelly would be here any moment, and any moment after that so would his wife and daughter.

Only in moments like these was it obvious why, in twenty-five years of marriage, Nick had just about managed to resist every temptation thrown his way. An engine roared and the whole garden lit up like Christmas, but the car drove by, prolonging the agony. Nick ducked into the shadows so as not to draw further attention to his plight. Holding his throbbing heart, he begged: 'Please God, don't let this happen.'

* * *

Inside the homebound taxi, a dozing Jan was hastily awakened by her daughter's exclamation. The driver screeched to a halt beside the stricken car, its grille curved around a solid oak, headlights flickering as smoke billowed from the bent metalwork. A pained-looking figure alighted, tottering as she held her neck. Both women recognised her immediately and, after her vision had defrosted, she recognised them. Overcome, she began to shake furiously before bursting into tears.

Debra was first out. 'Kelly? Kelly, is that you? I'll...I'll call an ambulance.'

'No, don't,' pleaded Kelly, fingering her neck. 'It's okay.'

Joining the scene, Jan took immediate charge, directing their cabbie to escort the injured driver away, his forehead bloodied from having hit the windscreen. 'We'll get you back to the house, Kelly pet.'

As the two women helped the disorientated girl the short distance to the house, at its front an agitated Nick paced furiously, almost collapsing when all three women came into view. 'There's been an accident,' explained his wife. 'The poor lassie's hurt her neck.'

'There's been a what?' Nick exclaimed, having almost just had an accident of his own in his trousers.

Momentarily, Jan noticed the smart clothes, hanging heavy with the scent of sweat and overbearing aftershave but, in the drama of the moment, it warranted little second thought. Thinking fast as the situation unravelled around him, Nick enquired: 'Kelly, what on earth are you doing out this way?'

Kelly looked up and into his eyes but said nothing, the dark hiding a milk white expression that had as much to do with being discovered on their doorstep intent upon committing naughty acts with Nick as it did with the shock of the accident. Assisted inside, the ultra bright interrogating lights of the living room forced her to blink, hands guiding her blindly to the sofa. As distorted voices rang out and the surroundings took on an abstract appearance, she felt like a goldfish in a bowl.

Fleeing upstairs to the bathroom, Nick crouched over the sink, his innards twisted in knots. Fighting to regulate his breathing, he shook a worried head, one ear trained on the downstairs room. Kelly was an intelligent girl but, in her confused state she could so easily blurt out something damning. She had nothing to lose whilst he, on the other hand, had everything to lose.

Downstairs Kelly was huddled sideways on the sofa, her head supported by a pile of cushions and covered by a shawl. Having vomited twice, a bowl was placed below in readiness for a third wave. Skull pounding, two pairs of female eyes monitored her every move. 'How are you feeling?'

Kelly rotated her head slowly. 'My neck aches a little.'

'Are you sure you won't gur to the hospital?' asked Jan as her husband crept unnoticed to the door, ready to interject should the conversation stray too uncomfortably close to home.

'No, honestly, it's okay,' asserted Kelly with a grimace. 'I'll be all right.'

'Well, let's see how things are in the morning, pet. I'll gur and get the spare bed made up.'

It was too late for Nick to scarper. 'How is she?' he enquired, feigning concern.

'She'll live,' replied Jan, a thought coming to mind, almost throwaway in its innocence. 'What were you doing out this way, pet?' she enquired of Kelly.

Not for one moment did Jan appreciate the implication. Nick coughed, desperate to divert attention from Kelly and the potentially cataclysmic question. One false step on Kelly's part and his marriage was as good as over. Yet it was an obvious observation to make for the lane up to the house led only to theirs and a handful of other remote houses, ending in a dead end at the golf course. Kelly had no rightful business to be out this way, at this time of night.

Hers and Nick's eyes met for a moment, both wide with fear. Tears usually worked at moments like this and Kelly spluttered before burying her head in her hands. Quickly the question was forgotten as the two women rallied round in support. Nick let out a relieved sigh, disguised as a yawn and as Kelly glanced over Jan's shoulder, once more their eyes locked. Quickly both averted their glances.

It was then that Jan had a thought, her turn to harbour feelings of guilt. She was sure Kelly had been at the front of the taxi queue outside Blast, which tended to suggest she'd been inside earlier, a potential witness. Jan turned pale at the implication. Searching Kelly's face for clues, she was unsure what the frightened look foretold. Kelly forced a smile, as the air in the room hung heavy with secrecy and guilt. 'Let's get you off to bed, Kelly pet.'

Welcome respite all round, Nick especially was relieved when the door was finally shut on their son's room and Kelly was tucked up safely in bed. Little did he realise his wife's guilty disposition. On the upstairs landing, she whispered shakily to her daughter: 'Kelly was in the club, Debbie. She could have seen...ya knur...'

Debra offered a sympathetic look. 'Oh I'm sure she won't have, mum. There were hundreds of people in there...and it was dark.'

Jan was unconvinced. 'I don't know, Debbie...what if she did?'

'Look mum, if Kelly had seen either of us in there, I'm sure she'd have come over and said hello.'

At that moment Nick joined them at the top of the stairs as Jan stated: 'The poor lass, she must have had the fright of her life.'

She missed the wry look on her husband's face that suggested Kelly wasn't the only one.

Heart still beating away at double its resting pace, the worry rash on his neck was conspicuous. Glad when everyone else was safely in bed, after brushing his teeth, Nick hovered at the bedroom door, the thought of Kelly in an adjoining room as thrilling as it was horrifying.