Underneath (20 page)

At home Joe rushes off to play and I sit on the settee. I can’t even be bothered to put the kettle on. All the mess of the past few days runs through my mind, the note, the car, the argument at school, my eBay business and now she’s targeted Seb. I don’t know how true it is or whether she’s just said it out of maliciousness, but I need to find out. I have his mobile number but can’t risk phoning him at the moment. I pace the living room. Did she ask him, or him her? If he has done it, he’s done it to make me jealous, I’m sure. He doesn’t realise he’s playing with a petrol fuelled bonfire. Why do I care? I accidentally knock a pile of Joe’s magazines on the floor.

‘For God’s sake Joe, can you tidy these up?’ I shout. I walk over to the stereo, put in my Rhianna CD and turn it up loud.

Joe walks past. ‘Oh mum, I hate that CD.’

‘Well stay in your room and you won’t have to listen to it. Take the magazines up as you go.’ Now I’m snapping at Joe. I need to sort myself out.

Niall comes in about ten minutes later, barging through the doors at warp speed. ‘Turn that down can you love?’

He misses my glare. I stab the off button.

‘Cheers. Okay, listen, they didn’t have the cameras on in the car park, so there’s no evidence to prove I’m telling the truth, so that’s it, it’s all on me.’ He flops into the chair. ‘At least we’ve got a courtesy car for a week or so whilst mine’s being repaired.’

‘Well that’s something I suppose.’ I want to tell him about Bettina, but then I remember what she just said, that it’s ‘me, me, me’ all the time, and I keep quiet. I can’t help thinking that it’s yet another thing gone wrong. Another round to Bettina. I feel myself tense.

Niall smacks his hand on his thigh and stands up. ‘Anyway, are you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’

‘We’re going to see my parents this weekend, remember?’

Oh heck, I’d forgotten with everything that had been happening. I don’t feel ready to see his folks right now. They are lovely people but they get in my space, and right now, I need people at arm’s length. I need to get my head around what happened this afternoon, regroup and think of my next move.

‘You’ve forgotten haven’t you?’

I nod. ‘Don’t worry though, it won’t take long to pack.’ I pause, ‘Actually Niall, would it be okay if I drive down tomorrow, only I’d promised to sort out some stuff with Bettina tonight?’

‘You’re talking again? Good. I’d rather you came tonight though, Lauren.’

‘I know, but I don’t want to ruin things when the situation is so delicate.’

‘Well, can you be at Mum’s for lunch tomorrow?’

‘Absolutely. I’ll aim for late morning, okay?’

‘Okay, love. Can you get our stuff together then?’

‘Of course. Is she doing your evening meal?’

‘Yes, so no worries about that.’ He heads to the bottom of the stairs. ‘Joe, come on, we’re going to Grandma and Grandad’s.’

Joe comes rushing down the stairs. ‘Yay, I love going there. How long are we staying?’

‘Until Sunday. It’ll be a nice break for everyone. I think I speak for me and your mum when I say we could do with a nice break and a change of scenery.’

A change of scenery
. Suddenly I have an idea for Project Revenge.

‘I’ll pack your things,’ I say, and leave the room with a smirk on my face.

They’re safely on their way when I set to work in the kitchen. I have a new Pinterest idea to try for my project. When that’s done, I dig my mobile out of my bag. I call Seb’s number to get part one of my plan sorted.

‘Well, you’re one person I wasn’t expecting a call from on a Friday night.’

‘I need to talk to you. Can you come over?’

‘Hey, I’m not going anywhere near your husband.’

‘Him and Joe have gone to his mother’s. It’s just me. I need to talk to you about something.’

‘Is this something called Bettina?’

‘Just get over here and bring wine. Have you got my address?’

‘I looked it up on the school computer a while ago.’

I sigh. ‘I might’ve known.’

‘See you in a few. What sort of wine?’

‘As long as it’s alcoholic, I don’t care.’

My mobile rings a minute after.

‘Yes?’ I say.

‘Hey girl, how’d it go at school earlier?’

‘Oh, not great but I have a plan.’

‘Oh yeah? Tell me more.’

‘I’m going to have to ring you back Mon, I’m on with it all now and I’m in a rush.’

‘Sure, okay. Catch you later then.’ She sounds sullen but I just don’t have time to worry about Monique right now.

Thirty minutes later he’s at my door. He smells strongly of aftershave and looks as hot as a chilli pepper, dressed in a Guns n Roses tee and jeans. I can see a tiny bit of dark ink just below his collarbone and my mouth gets wet. He comes in and sits himself on the settee without asking.

‘Guests usually remove their shoes in the hall.’

He throws them off and gives me a slow smirk. ‘Anything else I should remove?’

‘Look before you go there ...’

‘I know, I know, you’re not interested. Is that supposed to stop me from getting hard every time I see you?’

My eyes stray to his groin. I bite my lip.

‘Just tell me why I’m here.’

‘Give me a minute to get the drinks sorted.’ I dash from the room.

Handing him a glass, I tell him about my past with Bettina and how I think she may be behind the note and the eBay saga. Seb listens without interruption; I notice his frown lines creasing as he ponders what I’m saying.

‘So she took great delight in telling me you’d asked her out. That’s not true, is it?’

He looks at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

‘Oh my God, it is.’

‘Not one of my better moves then? Shit if she’s a psycho I can’t afford to have anything to do with her.’

‘Why did you do it anyway? Was it to get at me?’

‘She seemed nice, a bit vulnerable. You know that’s my type,’ he half laughs. ‘I admit it did cross my mind that it might wind you up, but I’d heard rumours from the schoolyard about us two and thought I’d head it off by making a play for Bettina.’

‘This can’t be doing your career any good.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I handed my notice in. I’m going abroad to teach for a while.’ He looks at me, all wide eyes and honest desperation. I feel as if I’m seeing the true Seb, and not the ladykiller.

‘I can’t be around you and not have you Lauren. It’d be impossible for me to be Joe’s teacher and have to see you every day. Meeting Niall at parents evenings, thinking all the while you’re sat there about your amazing tits and the fact I want to fuck you over the desk.’

I sigh. ‘What a mess I’ve caused. I’m sorry. You know if I wasn’t with Niall-’

‘Yeah, you said, but you are, and I feel a fresh start is just what I need. I’ll cancel my date now anyway, if it helps.’

I take a sip of wine. ‘That’s what I wanted to ask you. It really will help, thank you.’

‘I guess that’s it then?’

I feel empty that he’s going. It seems like we really had some chemistry and in another time and place we might have had something. ‘Do you reckon we were together in a past life?’

‘You say some weird shit you know.’

I laugh. ‘So is Seb the ladykiller going abroad to devastate hearts all over the world, or are you actually going to be true to yourself and let some lucky lady see the nice guy you really are?’

‘That will depend if I can meet another woman like you’. He winks. ‘I suppose it may happen eventually, but until then, I shall be happy to be there for any unhappy lady that crosses my path.’

‘You need to pick a happy lady, so she can make you happy.’

‘Maybe. Anyway, as this is probably our last time alone together, let’s have a toast to what might have been.’

‘To what might have been,’ we chink glasses.

Seb stands up, puts down his empty glass and starts to put on his shoes. I go and put the glasses in the kitchen sink ready to wash. I walk towards the window to draw the curtains. Seb walks up behind me.

‘Can I have a goodbye kiss?’

It’s my last chance. So, why not? He tips his head down and his lips touch mine. I can taste the wine. It starts as a sweet chaste kiss but though I want nothing more from Seb, I can’t resist this final chance to touch him. I snake my arms around his neck and pull him towards me. Once again I’ve lost my control around him. The kiss lasts for minutes until finally we break apart, panting. ‘Goodbye Seb.’

I turn to close the curtains, but really I’m turning away so he doesn’t see that my eyes have filled with tears. I grip the curtains a little too tight as I pull them together.

‘Bye Lauren. I hope you’re wrong about Bettina, but be careful, won’t you?’

‘I will.’

I walk him to the door, and then as I turn to go back into the house, I see that my car has been keyed the whole way down the side. I go out to examine it and see there’s a note behind the windscreen. ‘Advantage me.’

Oh, it’s like that is it? I’ve only had one glass of wine but it fuels my temper and I mutter ‘Game on bitch.’

Driven by adrenaline, my hands won’t stop shaking as I turn off the alarm I’d set for three thirty am and consider what I’m about to do; part two of my plan. I suck on my top lip, trying to get some saliva into my dry mouth. I push back the duvet revealing the black DKNY top and J. Crew trousers, chosen so I look hot if arrested. I imagined Monique’s voice should I face the police dressed in Value jeans and so assembled an ‘attractive assassin’ combo. My armpits feel damp, and my heart races to the point that I can feel its thud within my neck, it reminds me of old movies when the monster moves slow before attack. I breathe deep, this is self-defence. I can barely tie the converse I slip on my feet, and for a moment I surrender. I lay down on the floor in child’s pose, trying to regulate my breathing. It does no good. I must go now. I pull my wavy blonde hair back in a bun, grab my bag, slide on my D&G sunglasses and exit the house.

Behind the wheel of my faithful Nissan Micra, I drive to the bitch’s estate and park around the corner, leaving the car obscured by a row of garages. I glance around checking for witnesses. Though I see no-one, I can hear the inebriated screams and laughs of people on their way back from clubs. I walk casually to her house, my posture straight so should anyone see me they wouldn’t question my being there. As I arrive at the front garden I appraise how immaculate it looks, planted with symmetrical bedding in oranges and purples. Box hedging as neat as a newly cut fringe ensures my cover from the estate. She must either love gardening herself or pay a fortune for someone to keep it so pristine. As someone who has grown vegetables from seed and tended to them like an expectant mother, I hesitate before I put on the rubber gloves. Can I really do this? Are things really this bad? As I consider past events I feel my jaw clench and my teeth grind. She deserves everything she gets. I reach down, my fingers grip the neck of the plants and I lift and smash them onto the path where the soil parts from the roots and spills out like spewed guts. I’m horrified to feel a grin that I cannot stop form from my lips. I carry on, full of energy, until the bedding plants are no more and the piled up soil resembles a grave of the newly buried. I move onto her dustbin, retrieve a bag of food waste and push it through the letterbox imagining the smell on her return, putrid and decaying.

I open my bag, fixed together only with one stud, extract weed killer and pour it over the meticulous green lawn. I try and dribble it to spell out the word bitch. Give it a few days and yellowing dead patches will hopefully reveal my handiwork. I re-check that no-one watches me and move around the back of the house. I take a screwdriver from the front pocket of the bag and use it to disable the security light in order to prevent its on and off SOS. Pre-dawn light allows me to write WHORE in carefully disguised font across her white PVC door. For my finale, I empty fake vomit out of a plastic container, covering her patio furniture. I silently thank the person who posted the recipe on Pinterest.

Back in the driving seat, I punch a fist in the air before I burst into tears. I turn down the visor and peer at my reflection, seeing the reasonably happily married woman turned revenge seeking missile. Ground down and exposed to my rawest state, if you looked closely you’d see every part of me, each individual cell, be able to look within the membrane to the protoplasm. See what’s underneath ...

Back home I put my clothes in the washing machine and set them on a wash and dry programme. I put the weed killer and gloves back in the shed and wash out the fake vomit carton. Then I wash Seb’s glass and put it back in the cupboard. I go to the computer where I bookmarked the page from Pinterest (I didn’t pin it), delete it and clear my history. I’m too wired to sleep so I drink the rest of the bottle of wine and go upstairs to bed to read. At the top of the stairs I pause outside Joe’s room. It’s weird seeing his door open and his window with no blind down. I miss him already. Then the regret comes over me, what I’ve risked, how it could affect Joe. I begin to shake and feel sick. I just reach the toilet in time to bring up the wine I’ve consumed. I feel clammy and ill and cold, and imagine myself rotting in a police cell for causing criminal damage. I punch the toilet seat in disgust at myself. She’s brought me to this level, so now I’m no better than her. I fold up a hand towel and place it on the bathroom floor, and that’s where I wake a few hours later with my neck and back hurting like hell, and with a head that feels like someone has jumped up and down on it.