For One Night Only Read online

  “I can ask Mrs Lang.”

  “Stop calling her that.”

  “I can’t call her Eva anymore, can I?”

  “You shouldn’t have taken that cleaning job. It undermines us.”

  “You said you were fed up of me scrounging from you every time I wanted something.” She looked him right in the eye, daring him to deny it. “I didn’t have much choice, did I?”

  “I already give you an adequate allowance.”

  Through his eyes, she could see his temper rising, but now she was on a roll. He made her sick. She preferred being confrontational. Better than being meek and mild, like a doormat. But her bravado only matched her moods and most of the time her mood was fearful and cautious and in downright survival mode. No, she wasn’t a fool, her bravado was only short lived.

  She took a swift glance at Gladys. The old lady had fleetingly raised her eyes. Eddie hadn’t noticed but Constance had. She must have been enjoying her humiliation. The old hag was as bad as her violent son. They were both cut from the same cloth and Constance hated them both.

  “What time are we supposed to be leaving?” he asked.

  “The minibus will stop at the gate at 8.30. Roger said you can take your own clubs, as there are only four going now, so there will be plenty of room."

  Eddie chewed. “Only four?”

  She nodded, pretending to enjoy her food. "Mr Butler from next door won't be joining you. I think Roger felt he was too old, and of course, there's no man at No.1. She's single, remember?"

  “Tart!”

  “Just because she’s single?”

  He shook his head. “It’s indecent if you ask me.”

  And Constance thought, no one’s asking you, you pig!

  “Well, if the bus is coming at 8.30, I’ll still have time for a swim before we leave.”

  “I suppose so.” And maybe you’ll drown first, she thought.

  “By the way,” he said. “I thought I saw you this morning, up on the cliff.” He was staring right at her.

  She shook her head “Not that time of the morning.”

  He responded with a slow nod of the head. He wasn’t sure about her story. He somehow knew she was lying.

  Now she’d have to be on her guard again until he forgot what he saw.

  Chapter Three

  KiKI Cutter lived alone. She'd never married and possessed no kids. In fact, she had no baggage whatsoever, so said her disapproving mother often enough. It was true, Kiki had nothing a prospective suitor would feel threatened by, except perhaps her job. She was a career girl. A label she’d been pursuing since she left school when she decided that domestic bliss wasn’t the way her life was supposed to go.

  Her blonde hair and blue eyes did nothing to dispel the illusion of just being a pretty girl with no brains. Her boyish frame was an attraction to men who liked that sort of thing, so admirers were not in short supply. She’d once fallen for her boss at the previous place she used to work. He’d pursued her relentlessly, despite being engaged to another girl, but when she finally reciprocated the attraction, he ran a mile. Thank heavens! That would really have messed up her career.

  She worked for Philips at their manufacturing plant in Taunton, a supervisor in charge of packaging and distribution. She had thirty-five men under her, until today, when three had been laid off. One of them was that weirdo, Drake Fisher. He’d taken the redundancy badly, more so than the other men, making threats to the boss, Roger Lang, in his office on the top floor.

  As a peace offering, and trying to remain impartial, Kiki had suggested that the three men joined the rest of the workforce for a drink at the wine bar across the road, Barnies, but only two of the men had shown up. Not Drake Fisher.

  Now, she was just about to arrive home.

  In front of her, two cars were entering Seaview, driving through the gates into the estate built just two years ago. She watched the car in front go up along the eight to the top and the second car, her neighbour, Eddie’s car, pull into the drive opposite her house. Then, just as she watched the gates close behind her, in her rear-view mirror, she could have sworn she saw a figure dart inside to hide behind the bushes next to the wall.

  When she wound down the window to look back at the gate, she couldn’t see anything untoward. Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her. She shrugged, shaking off that feeling of being spooked by the dark. She deemed herself lucky to have gotten home safely after four glasses of Hock. Those days, she was often mindful about how many she had before driving home, especially since they’d brought in the drink driving restrictions. What a shock that had been for all the dedicated socialisers. Frankly, Kiki thought it was a tactical move by the government to spoil everyone’s fun. Bloody Tories! And Bloody Maggie! What a disappointment she was.

  Sometimes, Kiki wished she’d never moved to Seaview. She didn’t mind the area, it was scenic, and the house she rented wasn’t too bad, quite sizable for the amount of rent she paid, but the neighbours…well, sometimes she didn’t get them at all.

  She lived at No.1, just inside the security gate, surrounded by newly planted trees and shrubs with herbaceous bushes divided by empty flower beds. No.1 was fortunate to have an older tree in the front garden if you could call it a garden; more like a patch of grass that needed cutting each week, which was a pain since she didn't possess a lawnmower and had to rely on the old guy, Mr Butler, over the road at No.8. When he got fed up with her overgrown front plot, he often came over and cut it all back without even asking her. Still, that suited Kiki, especially if she didn't have to talk to him.

  Comprised of eight houses, the small estate was set out like a figure eight which was annoying for Kiki, because the road, like a car racetrack, was classed as a one-way system. It was preposterous for her at No.1, since she was located next to the gate, where the eight joined the main road leading to the real world. If Kiki was going to follow the highway law, then by rights she should pull out of her little drive sloping down from the garage, turn left, and go up through the houses, around the top circle and back down the second circle to the gate and the main road. As it was, and since the whole system was ridiculous, she simply reversed and went the wrong way for eighteen foot before driving out. Not normally classified as a lawbreaker, Kiki liked to think of it as her one defiant act, to do what she wanted to do and to hell with everyone. That gave her a small amount of satisfaction, small as it was.

  The house inside was furnished. Furnished in the already-furnished sense in a rental property. The all-through lounge at eighteen feet long displayed two camel coloured two-seater sofas in front of a modern electric fire set into the wall. The floors in all the rooms were covered in teak herringbone with two beige shag-pile rugs in the sitting and dining areas. An MFI table and four chairs were at the far end next to the patio doors, and a sideboard stretched along one wall, displaying a rather chic oversized brandy glass where Kiki kept her keys.

  When she initially viewed the property, Kiki thought the decor was elegant as can be, especially the basket weave swing chair suspended from the ceiling. At the rear of the property was a view of the sea over a sheer cliff face dropping to rocks and tumultuous waves. She spent many an evening sitting out on the patio watching the sky turn pink. It was her favourite place to be, as long as she was alone.

  Now, as she stepped inside the front door and closed it behind her, she turned on the lights before she was startled by the doorbell chiming. She backtracked and swung it open.

  It was Marigold from next door. “I saw you drive up,” she said, putting one foot inside. She pulled her cardigan tighter around her as her breath in the cold evening air made it look like she was smoking. She sidestepped in and Kiki sighed. Marigold was in and she’d be staying until Kiki chucked her out. Bloody neighbours!

  As she closed the door, Marigold marched inside the lounge as if she’d been invited. The neighbours in Seaview all did that. They were permanent intruders. Annoying, desperate and needy, the lot of them. “You’re late hom
e,” Marigold said.

  Kiki frowned and caught her expression in the hall mirror. Only that morning she’d noticed the lines on her face. She was just twenty-eight, but already they were beginning to show. She often wondered why there wasn’t a proper remedy for wrinkles. Still, they haven’t cured cancer yet, so she guessed that would come first. It was just a matter of time, surely.

  “You’ve been watching and waiting for me to come home?” she said to Marigold. “Isn’t that a bit strange?” Kiki loved to challenge her. The woman had no shame.

  Marigold shrugged as she simply accepted Kiki’s normal grumpy disposition as if she was a good friend who did things like that, accepting her for her faults!

  “I was going to have an early night,” Kiki said, but she knew Marigold wouldn’t take it as a hint. She was too stupid to see hints, even when they were staring her in the face. You can’t argue with stupid, Kiki pondered. Least of all someone who was named after a pair of rubber gloves.

  “An early night!” she hooted. “It’s Friday. Who goes to bed early on a Friday?”

  “Erm, people who work for a living.”

  She hooted again and sat down. “Well, one day you’ll get married and then you can give that up.”

  Kiki snarled behind her back. She took off her coat and hung it on the hook next to the telephone table. “I wouldn’t want to give it up.”

  Marigold laughed. “Don’t be silly.”

  Kiki went into the kitchen. She opened the fridge door and pulled out a half bottle of white wine.

  A voice travelled through the door opening. "Shall I get myself a Cinzano?"

  Kiki ignored her. That bottle she’d bought at Christmas was almost gone, drunk by Marigold over the course of the past fortnight.

  She went back into the dining area where Marigold’s skinny arse in tight, pink crimplene slacks poked out from the sideboard. She grabbed the bottle by the neck and set it on top, then after pouring a double, she used the soda syphon to top it up. Marigold preferred lemonade, but Kiki never bought it in. Marigold had commented on it once. “No lemonade?”

  “No.”

  “Shall I pop next door and get some?”

  “If you like.”

  When Marigold came back, she found all the lights had been turned off and the doors locked tight. She never did that again. Now she stayed and took soda, more’s the pity.

  Kiki watched her pick up a Co-Op carrier bag, filled with a few bags of nibbles. She raised her pencil drawn eyebrows and said, “I’ve got cheese and crackers too. We can have a cosy night in.”

  Kiki closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Weren’t you listening when I said I wanted an early night?”

  Marigold chuckled. “I know what you’re like. You always say one thing and mean another.”

  Kiki watched, open-mouthed, as Marigold took her drink into the lounge and nestled down on the sofa with her feet tucked under her.

  That was the moment Kiki knew that Marigold was there to stay.

  Chapter Four

  Eva called from the bedroom. “Darling, I’ve packed for you.” She went onto the landing to find him in the office. “Unclog your ears, Roger the Dodger.” She went up behind him and flicked his ear lobe. Then she bent down and kissed him.

  He didn’t take his eyes from his work, but he did manage to bring up his hand and pat her on the bottom.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking the itinerary.”

  “Again! You must have it memorised by now.”

  He looked up and smiled. “Almost.”

  She sat herself down on the chair next to his desk. The room had been designed for him. A bedroom turned into an office. The height of sophistication. “How many are going now?”

  “Four of us from here, my brother and Jack.”

  “Jack’s going?”

  “Yes. Why not?”

  “I thought you’d fallen out with him.”

  “We’re okay now. Worked it out.”

  “But he accused you of having an affair with his wife.” Eva looked down and realised a button was undone on her silk blouse. She did it up.

  “A misunderstanding, sweetheart. It happens to the best of us.”

  “Well, I’m not happy about it. It was my husband he accused. Perhaps he should be apologising to me too.”

  “I’m sure he will when he sees you.”

  “Is he coming here in the morning?”

  “Actually, darling. I forgot to mention it, but he’s coming to spend the night.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “You forgot to mention it?”

  "Sorry," Roger said again. "It's easier for him since the bus will be leaving early in the morning."

  “I’m not sure I’m happy about that, darling.”

  “Well, he asked, and I could hardly say no.”

  “I suppose not.” She thought about the clean sheets in the airing cupboard. “I’ll make the bed up in the spare room then.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Eva Lang shook the sheet from its folds over the single divan bed, while pondering Roger’s best man, Jack, and the dinner party they’d had in the summer. They were always having people over. Roger liked to show off his home: an exclusive property within an exclusive community, boasting an exclusive panoramic view of the Atlantic from the exclusive sweeping terrace. Exclusivity was what Roger was all about, since his high paid job at Philips Electronics, afforded him to be.

  The dinner party had comprised of just seven guests. One was Kiki from No.1 since she worked at the same place as Roger. The evening had gone well until Jack drank one glass of Blue Nun too many. Jade, his beautiful exotic wife, had taken the brunt of his drunk talk when from across the table, he openly accused her of having an affair.

  Sipping a Dubonnet, Jade sat in silence, shaking her head in quiet disbelief. It had been a terribly awkward moment.

  “Come on, Jack, old mate,” Roger had said. “Tone it down.”

  “Tone it down?” Jack spat. “You’re the one who needs to do that, mate.”

  “Jack!” Jade admonished. “Please, Stop it.”

  “You stop it,” he said back. “I mean, really, honey, stop.” He leaned back in his chair staring at his wife with her dark tanned skin and her bosom bulging over the low cut dress. Her long black hair was draped over one shoulder, making her look exotic and erotic, all in one go.

  Eva didn’t like her much. She was always batting her false eyelashes and moving her body seductively. Eva often noticed Roger staring, admiringly. He did it openly while offering a comment now and then, like ‘I see you didn’t bother dressing up for us tonight’. When in fact she was dolled up to the nines. Eva had seen him do that before, in the past. It was a ‘thing’ of his; openly admiring a woman while trying to prove he had nothing to hide. Nothing but his lust.

  That night at dinner, Jack had scraped his chair over the stone flag patio and stormed into the house. The guests around the table had turned silent, probably enjoying every damn minute.

  Eva followed him into the house, while obstinately, Jade remained where she was. Eva found Jack in the kitchen pouring the last glass from a bowl of punch. He discarded the fruit. "Are you all right?"

  He shrugged and closed his eyes as he leaned on the countertop.

  Their kitchen was the best in the eight. Actually, their entire house was the best of the eight. The other seven houses paled in comparison since theirs was the original builder's home. The guy had inherited the property from his late mother. Once an old fashioned bungalow, it had a view to die for, so he went on to capitalise on his good fortune, believing that property was the way forward, to invest in for the future. The entire headland was also his, so he developed it into a gated community built on a figure eight -his lucky number. His mother's old bungalow became No.5, and it was the best of the bunch after he trebled the square footage and put in all mod cons. Finally, when the eight properties were complete, the guy went bankrupt and the estate taken from him in a heartb
eat. He died a year later, some said of a broken heart.

  Jack looked up and stared at Eva for longer than necessary. “You know he’s at it with my wife.”

  “That’s not true.” She went up next to him and stroked his arm. “You’ve just had a few too many. That all. You’re imagining things.”

  He looked at her hand on his arm and then at her. Their eyes locked and for a moment there, Eva felt a desire she hadn’t felt for years. Could it be that she found Jack attractive? How was it possible after knowing him for so long? What on earth was she thinking? She felt her cheeks burn. She went to walk away, but Jack turned suddenly and pulled her into his arms. His harsh lips found hers as she moulded into his body. She felt as if he was about to break her, which made her feel feminine and terribly sexy.

  They pulled apart and he apologised. She felt her neck burning and she knew it must have been glowing red by now. It was one of her reveals. Whenever she was embarrassed or guilty of something, her neck turned crimson. That's why she'd tried to keep on the straight and narrow all her life. Otherwise, her neck would have given her away instantly.

  Roger’s voice could be heard behind them. Eva spun about and covered her neck with a conveniently placed tea-towel. “Are we okay in here?” he asked. Jack coughed while Roger patted him on the back. “Are we good, old friend?”

  “Yeah. We’re good. No problem,” Jack said before he left the room and went back out to join his wife.

  Eva wondered if he had seen them. “Don’t clean this up,” Roger said. “Ask Constance to come in and help in the morning.”

  “I would have to pay her extra.”

  “That’s okay by me. Nothing is too good for my lovely wife.”

  That was five months ago and now Jack was coming to stay the night.

  As she made up his bed in the spare room, smoothing the sheet with slow hands, Eva Lang wondered if she should wear a turtleneck sweater when he arrived.

  The doorbell rang at eight-thirty. Eva went slowly into the hall to answer it. She knew it was him, and her pulse had already quickened. Her heart missed a beat when she saw him standing in the frame of the door. He seemed unfazed by seeing her. Maybe the potential passion between them had been short-lived.