This is the third story of the Bangor series, but a standalone story in its own right that does not require you to have read the previous instalments. The first two stories involved Mark's sexual discoveries. Here, we focus on his wife Jean and her visit to her friend Rebecca.
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The satnav in the car directed Jean to a row of Georgian redbrick houses, quite close to the centre of Bangor. Jean knew that Rebecca and Peter were financially comfortable, but she never expected such a fine residence.
The drive had given Jean plenty of time to ponder why it was her that Rebecca had called in her hour of need. Yes, they were very close when they were in college, but that was fully a decade ago. The truth is that both women had moved on with their lives, been married, moved from their homes. Surely Rebecca, the bubbly thin blonde with the outgoing personality to match her looks had gained new friends since those days.
It wasn't that they had lost contact. Jean and Rebecca spoke on the phone a couple of times each year, swapped Christmas cards, birthday presents, and even met up most summers. But for Jean at least, she would no longer consider Rebecca a confidant. Her closest friends now were probably her workmates Sinead and Emily, or maybe her sisters in law Elaine and Kyra. She wondered; how difficult must Rebecca's life be now to have to go back to her old college roommate for support?
Near the end of the tree lined street, Jean turned into the grey pebble drive. Unsure of quite what she was walking into Jean steadied herself before opening the car door to get out and take her bags from the boot. She had packed several different outfits, from the most basic casual wear to formal evening wear, she was prepared for all scenarios.
Jean had been into the office that morning trying to clear her desk before the week off. She was still wearing her office attire, a white blouse under a fitted black ladies suit jacket, the black and white complimenting her Auburn hair that draped and curled over her shoulders. She wore a charcoal pencil skirt over a pair of transparent black tights, with the office look rounded off by a pair of shiny black pumps. Jean liked this outfit simply because it fitted her at size 10. Having quite a curvy figure she often needed size 12 to fit her chest and hips.
Jean walked up to the glossy royal blue painted front door, finding it slightly ajar, and rang the doorbell. She waited. Rang it again. Waited. She knocked, called Rebecca's name, but no answer. Finally, Jean pushed the door and let herself in. With no sign of Rebecca, she checked the living room. Coffee cups, plates with crusts of bread, clothes strewn on the floor, the place was not quite upside down, but for Rebecca, who had always been meticulously tidy, this was a total mess.
Jean made her way back to the front door. As she did, she heard a call from the top of the stairs.
"Jean! Sorry I was having a rest!"
At the top of the stairs was the short, thin figure of Rebecca, silhouetted by the light from the window on the upstairs landing.
"Rebecca, thank heavens, I was worried. Did you know your front door was left open?"
"Eh...," Rebecca stumbled with her words, "yes I left it open for you".
Jean knew that she was lying, the girl was clearly a bit of a wreck. Jean moved towards the stairs and held her arms out.
"Come here to me," she said.
As Rebecca descended the light balanced out on her visage and it was then she noticed the changes in her friend. Rebecca was always petite, but she had clearly lost weight. She had also cut her hair, now sporting a blonde pixie cut. Worryingly though she could see the yellow marks of a fading bruise above her eye and down the side of her face.
"Oh hunny!" As Rebecca came closer Jean placed a hand on the bruised side of the face, took a brief moment to examine it, then pulled her friend into a tight hug.
Holding Rebecca's body tight to her own, Jean could feel Rebecca's ribs through her grey cotton tracksuit.
"Have you been taking care of yourself, have you been eating?" Jean questioned, with a clear concern in her voice.
"Yes, I.., well I haven't been that hungry," Rebecca replied.
"Well tonight I am making dinner," said Jean, pulling the slight girl tight again and giving her a peck on the cheek in a reassuring way. Rebecca blushed.
"There's no need, really".
"I insist," Jean answered back quickly. Then parting from Rebecca, she started up the stairs. "Which room am I in?"
"The large room at the back. Do you mind if I wait here while you get settled?" Rebecca enquired.
"Of course, I will be down in a while." Jean smiled back.
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It was 7pm and Jean was busy putting the final touches on the Moroccan lamb stew that had been simmering away on the hob for the past few hours. A good filling meal is just what Rebecca needed. Rebecca appeared at the doorway of the kitchen, still clad in her ill-fitting grey cotton tracksuit. "I have the fire lit now I am just going to shower and change before dinner," she said.
"You are fine as you are Rebecca. Here, sit into the table we can eat now."
Rebecca did not need a second invite. She sat up at the kitchen island and Jean duly placed her dinner in front of her. The moment the plate was put in front of her Rebecca grabbed the spoon and dived into the food. By the time Jean sat in beside her the plate was half cleared.
