The Other Woman(52)

‘What did he say, then?’ I’d asked confidently.

‘He just couldn’t believe it,’ she’d said. ‘Gay or not, he’s still a man, and he’s cavorting with his girlfriend, going on her hen weekend. It’s embarrassing for him.’

I took my glasses off then and sat up, but if Pammie noticed, she didn’t let on. She stayed horizontal with a floppy hat covering the top half of her face.

‘Adam actually told you I was embarrassing him?’ I’d questioned. I hated myself for falling into her trap.

She’d smiled then, warming to her theme. ‘Yes, but who wouldn’t be? It’s not Adam’s fault, it’s just a man’s natural reaction. I don’t know a man alive who’d be happy for you to spend as much time with another man as you do with Seb. It’s not how a woman, betrothed to be married, is expected to behave.’

‘We’re not living in the eighteenth century,’ I’d said, biting my tongue to stop the words I really wanted to say from spilling out. ‘Times are different to your day. Women are different.’ I was still trying to justify our relationship to her.

‘That may be so,’ she’d said calmly, the smile still toying on her lips. ‘But all I’m saying, as a favour really, to save you getting into an argument with Adam, is that it’s going to have to stop. He won’t put up with it after the wedding.’

‘It won’t be Seb I stop seeing,’ I hissed. ‘It’ll be you.’

Her hat fell onto the floor as she struggled to raise herself on the sunbed. ‘What?’

‘You heard. And if I refuse to see you, you know what that means?’

She looked at me, her face contorted with hatred.

‘It’ll make it so much harder for Adam to see you.’

‘Good luck with that,’ she said calmly, her voice masking any fear she may have felt. ‘Do you honestly think he’s going to choose you over me?’

‘Who does he live with? Who does he share his bed with? Who does he make love to? I’d say your chances are pretty slim.’

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ she’d said, before getting up and walking slowly towards the house, her paisley kaftan billowing in the breeze. ‘You kids having a good time?’ she asked Tess and Pippa as she passed the pool, seemingly without a care in the world. Psychopath.

Now she’s telling Adam that she had a great time and that I made her feel welcome? I immediately feel wrong-footed, as if she’s playing a cat-and-mouse game. No prizes for guessing who the mouse is.

Adam pulled the duvet over our heads and I could feel him hard again as he pulled me tighter towards him. ‘It’s been four days.’ He laughed, as I tutted. ‘I can’t help it.’

‘Go to sleep,’ I said wearily. ‘We’ve got to get up in a few hours.’

‘I will, I promise. I’ll bash myself with a hammer and won’t bother you again, but only if you do me a favour.’

‘For God’s sake, what?’ I laughed.

‘Mum’s asked if she can come with you to your final fitting.’

‘What?’ I gasped, sitting up abruptly and turning to face him. ‘Seriously?’

‘She said that you both got on so well while you were away that she wondered if it would be all right to come along to see your dress.’ He screwed his face up, as if expecting a retort.

My mouth dropped open.

‘Please, Em. It’d mean the world to her. As she said, she doesn’t have a daughter so will never be able to share that special time with her. You’re the closest she’s got. She’d be so chuffed.’

‘But . . .’ I started.

‘Your mum’s already seen it, so it’s not as if she’d be stepping on anybody else’s toes as such.’

‘But Pippa hasn’t seen it yet, nor has Seb. The four of us were going to make a day of it on Saturday, go for lunch and that.’

Adam propped himself up on an elbow. ‘Seb?’

I stopped breathing.

‘Seb’s going with you?’

I slid back under the duvet with my heart hammering through my chest. Had I imagined the change in the atmosphere? I must have, because Seb was a problem that Pammie had created in her head, not Adam’s. So why did it feel like I’d just stepped on a landmine and was waiting for a delayed explosion?

‘Of course,’ I said nonchalantly. ‘Why wouldn’t he?’

‘Because it’s a girls’ thing,’ he said curtly.

I turned to face him and snuggled into his warm chest, sliding an arm around his back. ‘You’re being sexist,’ I said, laughing.

I felt him pull away, both literally and mentally. ‘So Seb’s going to sit in a bridal shop with a gaggle of women?’ he asked incredulously. ‘He’s going to see your dress before I do?’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous,’ I remonstrated. ‘It’s Seb, for goodness’ sake.’ Had she got to him? Had she planted this absurd seed in his head?

‘It just seems a bit much, to be honest,’ he said sharply. ‘Still, if he’s going, I really can’t see a problem with my mum going, can you?’

There was no answer to that, and I felt myself sink into the mattress, beaten and dejected. What did I have to do to get this vile woman out of my life?