The Stepmother(47)
I pull a face that says: Really? Looking like this? A face I think he’ll understand.
But he’s a man – and men, I must remember (I never remember) don’t do subtleties! I haven’t spelt it out for him.
‘Come on.’ He holds a hand out. ‘Don’t be shy. She’s going soon.’
I have no choice: I follow Matthew like an obedient child.
‘So here she is at last.’ Kaye lowers her coffee cup as I walk in, smiling to display impeccable white teeth. ‘How lovely to meet you.’
‘Hi!’ I say. She is drinking from some very expensive-looking china I didn’t even know we owned. ‘Good to meet you too.’
‘So you’re the lover of babes.’
I froze.
‘What?’ Matthew looks puzzled. ‘Hardly.’
‘Our babes, Matty! Just my little joke,’ Kaye says, but one look at that alabaster face tells me she is sizing up the competition – or maybe just sizing up her prey?
Matty.
Actually she isn’t as pretty as I’d feared. Her beaky nose is too big for her thin face, her pale blue eyes narrow and unflinching. Judging by her smooth forehead, she’s had Botox. Scarlett is much prettier than her mother.
But pretty or not, Kaye certainly looks spectacular in a fur gilet and tight leather trousers, immaculate blow-dry tumbling over her shoulders.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ I mumble. ‘Sorry about my appearance. I’ve been for a run. I’ll just dash and change…’
‘Oh please don’t on my account. I’m in my old things anyway.’ She stands languorously and offers me her hand. She is much taller than me, and I feel horribly dumpy: a clumsy little figure next to her blonde elegance. ‘It’s great to exercise when we’re not feeling our best, isn’t it?’
But Matthew always tells me he loves my body, I remind myself firmly. He likes my curves and my tummy.
‘Okay.’ I wish my hand didn’t look so red knuckled and rough skinned in her pretty white one, her nails perfectly shaped and polished pearly pink. ‘I like your outfit.’
‘So – the next Mrs King! Enjoying married life? The kids have told me all about you.’
‘Yes, thanks.’ I try to smile. ‘Good things, I hope.’
‘Wellll…’ She pauses. Her laugh is shrill when she clocks the expression I fail to hide. ‘Of course good things!’
‘Fancy a coffee, Jeanie, hon?’ Matthew seems exhilarated somehow. ‘I’ll grab another cup from the kitchen.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, but what I really mean of course is: PLEASE don’t leave me with the predator.
‘I understand it’s a first for you – marriage?’ Her smile is tight. ‘The old wedding bells. Except you must have done it civilly, no?’
‘O-ho!’ Hand on the door, Matthew laughs. ‘Been doing your homework, Kaye?’
‘Naturally.’ Kaye’s smooth face attempts the stretch to a wider smile. ‘Obviously I wanted to know who our kids were hanging out with. Any mother would, wouldn’t they?’ She looks at me for agreement.
‘I guess so,’ I say carefully.
‘Cos we all know about wicked stepmothers, eh? Poor old Cinders and all that. You just can’t be too careful these days, can you?’ The door swings shut behind Matthew, and I am sure her eyes narrow further. ‘I mean you of all people should know that, shouldn’t you, Jeanie?’
Please don’t, I think. Please don’t.
But she does. I’ve known it was coming from the minute I stepped into the room. She is a big, sleek cat waiting for the kill.
‘So how did you two meet?’ She sips her coffee through perfectly glossed lips. Kaye isn’t perfect, I know that really, I know no one is – but she gives a good impression of being so. She has me over a barrel, and she is going to enjoy every last minute of it.
I can taste the salt of my own dried sweat on my lips. ‘At an office party,’ I say. I wonder what he’s told her.
‘It’s a shame you managed to poison my dog.’
Jesus! As Marlena would say: You can take the girl out of the estate, but you can’t take the…
‘Joke!’ Kaye guffaws. Liar. ‘Your face!’
‘I didn’t poison your dog.’ I stand taller. ‘It was a horrible accident – and I’m very sorry he died.’
‘It’s hard to admit you were a bit – lax, I’m sure, when the kids were so gutted’—she pats my arm generously—‘but I believe you if you say it was accidental.’