She’d been angry at him, a build-up of jealousy about the wife of a friend of theirs that she felt he was flirting with, and she’d confronted him.
Whether it was the punch to her midriff or the fall, she would never know. But it had caused her to miscarry the baby they’d been trying to have for two years. And had succeeded, finally, after several expensive and unsuccessful IVF attempts.
The emergency team who dealt with the miscarriage had saved her life, but the price had been that she would never be able to conceive another child.
Niall, of course, full of remorse, professed his love for her, begging her forgiveness, begging her not to press charges with the police and promising her on his mother’s life that he would change. And for a while he had, becoming again the attentive, loving husband, turning back into the man she had fallen in love with and married. But she could never forget nor in her heart forgive him, and she knew she could never trust him again.
But more than that, she had made the decision that one day, somehow, she would get her revenge on him. She remembered the adage that ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold’. That’s when she had started planning, changing her will after entering into a secret relationship with someone who was in an equally bad marriage as her own. Someone she thought really did care for her, the new love of her life. And she had begun, subtly, to move her assets out of Niall’s reach.
One of her purchases with these assets was this remote country property, named Woodbury Cottage, where she had been living in the days since her disappearance. Converted some years back from a derelict shepherd’s croft, it was half a mile up a farm track near Chiddingly, in a dip in the South Downs. And the love of her life was due to arrive any time! She looked at the kitchen clock: 8.05 p.m.
She opened the fridge door and checked that the bottle of Prosecco she had put in earlier was now nicely chilled. Then she popped open a tin of her beloved’s favourite anchovy olives and poured them into a bowl. Having done that, she pulled on oven gloves and checked the beetroot-based vegetarian pizza in the Aga. It was about done, so she moved it to the warming oven.
A ping on her phone signalled a text. She looked at it.
Three minutes! XXXXXXXX
She texted back:
Make it sooner XX
Then, thrumming with excitement, she raced upstairs and into the bathroom. She checked her hair in the mirror, sprayed mint fresher into her mouth and dabbed perfume around her neck.
Ping!
30 seconds! XX
Eden heard the roar of an engine and the scrunch of tyres on the gravel outside.
She felt so happy, so incredibly excited as she threw herself back down the stairs and raced over to the front door.
Flinging it open, she said, ‘Oh my God, I’ve missed you!’
‘And me too!’
Their mouths met, soft, sweet, and they stood on the doorstep for many seconds, kissing hard and holding each other tight, before breaking away and staring, breathless, into each other’s eyes.
Then they kissed again, for even longer, every cell in Eden’s body tingling with desire. Craving this incredible person, this incredible body.
She felt fingers running through her hair, down the side of her face, then down her body.
‘I love you so much, Eden!’
‘I love you even more!’
They were so entwined they almost fell over as they stumbled through the door, before Eden kicked it shut behind her. ‘God, I’ve missed you, Rebecca,’ she said.
Their lips met again.
89
Half an hour later, Eden Paternoster and Rebecca Watkins lay naked, wrapped in each other’s arms. Rod Stewart’s ‘Maggie May’ was playing softly in the background.
‘You’re amazing,’ Eden said, grinning.
‘Yeah, you’re a lucky lady,’ Rebecca replied teasingly.
‘Drink?’
‘Why not?’
Eden slipped out of bed and, without bothering to put on any clothes, walked out of the room.
‘Jesus, I’ll never tire of looking at that body,’ Rebecca called after her.
Eden wiggled her bum cheekily as she went through the door. She returned a couple of minutes later with the opened Prosecco, two glasses and the bowl of olives. They sat up in bed, with the olives balanced between them, and Eden filled their glasses. ‘To our future!’ she said.
‘To our future!’
They clinked glasses and drank. Then Rebecca dug her hand into the bowl and ate several olives. ‘I must say, I love my kick-boxing sessions.’
‘Kick-boxing sessions trump poker evenings, right?’ Eden said.
‘Every time!’ Then, eating more olives, Rebecca said, ‘I’m ravenous.’
‘Supper’s ready downstairs.’
‘You are the best lover ever! Did anyone ever tell you?’
‘Only you.’
Rebecca punched her, playfully. ‘Liar!’
‘It’s true.’
‘OK, your male lovers, then?’
‘The best I got from Niall was that I’m a great shag.’
Rebecca looked at her quizzically. ‘Was it ever as good with him as it is with me?’
‘Not remotely; not in a million, billion years.’
‘And I’m meant to believe that?’
‘Well, you’re shagging him, too — and your assessment is?’
Rebecca wrinkled her face. ‘Yech.’
‘Did you... you know — shag him today? Weren’t you seeing him this afternoon?’
She gave a shaking motion with her hand as her reply. ‘Just a hand job.’
‘Really?’
‘We were up at the Dyke in the car park. And I didn’t want — you know — before seeing you.’ She shrugged. ‘He was fine with that.’
‘Well, he is a wanker, through and through.’
Both women giggled.
Eden then looked at her, serious now. ‘Any news? What did he say about the police?’
‘Not much, really. He’s been released on police bail. He’s still totally mystified about your disappearance. He just repeated what he’s said before, that he thinks you’ve set him up. He’s worried about the evidence they’ve thrown at him, but he’s sure they won’t find any proof — that they’re not going to find anything. I think, actually, he’s angry because he knows, in his heart, you’ve beaten him.’
Eden smiled and raised her glass again. ‘I bloody well have.’
‘You have.’
‘We have!’ Eden replied.
‘I’ll drink to that.’ Again, they clinked glasses and drank.
‘So the police haven’t been in touch with you, other than questioning everyone in the office?’
Rebecca shook her head. ‘Nope, not at all.’
‘What’s the word around the office?’
‘Everyone thinks something must have happened to you. I’ve spread the word, as subtly as I can, that you once confided in me you were worried by Niall’s mood swings. I helped the rumour mill along by letting people know he had been arrested. And I made sure to take along a copy of the Argus, with the headline about his arrest, and leave it in the canteen.’
Eden grinned. ‘Smart.’
Rebecca drained her glass. ‘What was it you said about supper?’
Eden ran a suggestive finger down Rebecca’s chest, and on down, past her stomach. ‘Can it wait?’
Rebecca took her hand and kissed a finger. ‘Later,’ she said. ‘I need sustenance first. Then I’m going to have you all over again.’
They locked eyes. ‘I love you,’ Eden said. ‘I really love you.’