Page 25 of Pyg

JEKYLL OR HYDE

SIX DAYS EARLIER

“S hit,” Alice muttered, dropping her car keys after locking the door. She bent to pick them up and, conscious of the next-to-no-clothing underneath, held her coat with one hand over her arse to stop it riding up. She dropped the keys in her bag and glanced at the time on her phone screen. Over half an hour late. She’s going to be livid. But I come bearing good news and she’ll approve of my outfit, at least.

Trying to focus on the positive, Alice pulled her small suitcase behind her and into the reception of the boutique Cotswolds hotel — one of their frequent haunts, and certainly not one she’d even dare to consider if Fran wasn’t paying. Not that Alice would’ve minded them spending the weekend holed up at her place, but Fran never seemed keen on that.

“It’s too domestic, too mundane,” she’d once said, which Alice shrugged off, but she’d never really understood how it was any different. And besides, Fran needed to get used to the idea of domesticity between them now they were planning to live together.

The young receptionist looked up from her computer and beamed. “Welcome back.” Her high ponytail bobbed like the swishing tail of a golden retriever. “Mrs Dalton checked in earlier. She said for you to go right up. It’s 201, the usual. Do you need a separate key?”

“No. Thank you.” Alice smiled at the young woman.

Standing outside room 201, Alice smoothed her hands over her coat and drew in a couple of steadying breaths before tapping the solid oak door. Fran opened it, a glass of red wine in her hand and her lips set into a firm pout.

Alice took a breath. “Sorry I’m so late, I?—”

Fran held up a hand. “Just come on in, will you?”

“I did text you to say I was with the estate agent and running late.”

Fran walked to the sideboard. Grabbing the open half-empty bottle of red, she splashed it into a glass and held it out to Alice.

“Er, thanks.”

Fran swigged the contents of her own glass and refilled it.

“Cheers.” Fran took a gulp and slouched into the wingback chair, her usual composure as awry as her legs; one was hooked over the arm, the other jiggling.

Alice stood, unsure what to do with herself as Fran surveyed her from her leather throne. This wasn’t really the seductive entrance she’d planned. And now she couldn’t really take off her coat until she’d sparked the mood. She took a tentative sip of the wine — so sour, she might as well be drinking vinegar.

“So, as I was saying, I was with the estate agent. He was really positive about my flat and thinks it’ll sell quickly in this market. His valuation was way over what I paid five years ago, so we’ll have a nice sum to put towards?—”

“Oh, Alice, I’m not interested in any of that.”

Alice tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not interested in your little flat.”

“But I thought we were going to…”

Fran frowned and swished the crimson liquid around her glass.

“Fran, you can’t seriously be this angry with me because I’m a little late.”

“No. I’m angry with you because you expect me to upheave my life to fit in with you.”

What the fuck is happening? Alice placed the glass down, not wanting to swallow any more of that shit as well. “You leaving Jeremy was your idea. Us getting a place together was something you suggested. If you don’t want to do that any more, that’s your choice, but we need to have a conversation about what we’re doing here.” She drew an invisible line between them with her finger, surprised by how calm she sounded considering the panic sirens screaming inside her head.

Fran shifted in the chair and glanced up. With a sigh, she rose to her feet and stepped towards Alice.

“I care about you deeply. I don’t want to lose you.” She traced a finger under the lapel of Alice’s trench coat.

Alice frowned. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Fran peered into her face, a saccharine grin spreading over her lips. “Okay, well, that’s settled. Let’s kiss and make up, shall we?” She closed the gap between them. With her fingers twisted in Alice’s hair, she kissed her with a fierce intensity, hungry and desperate, but not in a good way.

When she pulled away, Fran inhaled sharply through her nose. “Why don’t we get you out of this silly little coat? Then I can show you just how much I care about you.” Fran tugged at the waist belt, and the coat fell open, revealing Alice’s lack of attire underneath; a lacy black bra, matching panties, stockings, and suspenders.

“Oh, hello gorgeous,” Fran purred.

Alice touched a finger to her lip, throbbing where Fran had bitten it. “So, just to be clear. We’re making up?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But is anything actually resolved?”

“Oh, Alice. Please, let’s not go over it all again.” Fran moved closer, her hot hands pawing at Alice’s underwear.

“No, this is important. Are you or are you not leaving Jeremy?”

Fran’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “That’s all you really want, isn’t it? For me to leave my husband, so that I’m as alone and pathetic as you are. Struggling to get by, and grateful for handouts from kind benefactors, like a pigeon pecking up crumbs.”

Ouch. Fran’s words were a verbal slap across the face.

Again, Alice’s voice came out calm and at odds with the confusion and anger swirling inside her. “Like I said, it was you who suggested it in the first place, Fran. How have you forgotten that? I thought we?—”

“ I thought we, I thought we …” Rage rattled through Fran’s words, like they were shutters in a storm. “You thought we what? That we’d live out our days in luxury, sipping Champagne on yachts and fucking in expensive hotel rooms. Is that what you thought, Alice?”

“We talked about getting a place together, and being?—”

“Oh, get real. That isn’t going to happen, is it? Where will we live? Another dreary little flat. What will we live off? A PA’s meagre salary. Surviving on tinned soup and pre-sliced bread? Fat chance even of that when you’re fired for fucking your boss’s wife.” Fran panted, breathless from her tirade.

The air stilled. Alice pulled her coat around her and tightened the belt. As she moved towards the door, Fran grabbed at her arm, her manicured nails scratching Alice’s flesh like talons.

“You’re not leaving, Alice.”

Noticing how that wasn’t a question, Alice stared down at her heels. Earlier, when she pulled on her stockings, she’d felt sexy and desirable; now she just felt cheap and ridiculous. As if an affair with my boss’s wife wasn’t sordid enough.

Fran sniffed and stepped toward her. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Can I kiss it better?”

Alice looked on in a trance-like state, as Fran lifted the forearm she’d just clawed to her lips, dark, apologetic eyes searching through thick eyelashes. How does she change so quickly?

“Come on, let’s have a nice weekend together.”

“I can’t do this any more, Fran.” Alice turned and gripped the door handle.

“Stop being so ungrateful. After everything I’ve given you.” Fran spun her around and gripped Alice’s shoulders. “Why don’t we just?—”

“You’re hurting me. Stop it!”

“No, you stop it.” Fran’s fingers dug into Alice’s biceps. “The sooner you realise that I’m the best someone like you will ever get, the better.”

“Let me go.” Alice pushed her and Fran stumbled backwards, shock registering on her face. She gritted her teeth and her lips twisted in a savage sneer as she lurched forward and grasped Alice’s arm, clutching her coat. Alice snatched it away and the sleeve strap tore.

“Look what you’ve made me do. Happy now?” Fran screamed.

Hot tears stung in Alice’s eyes. She didn’t dare blink because she didn’t want to give Fran the satisfaction of making her cry. She didn’t want Fran to think she’d won, because she hadn’t, far from it.

“It’s over, Fran. I don’t want to see you again.” The words came out quiet but steady, and because of this, they both realised she meant them. And as if her rage had just evaporated, Fran’s face fell. A mixture of sadness and hurt flickered across her features as she reached out and took Alice’s hands.

“You don’t mean that, Alice. We have a good thing going on. Let’s not over-complicate it. Why don’t we?—”

“No.”

Fran tilted her head. “You didn’t let me finish.”

“No. I meant what I said.”

“Just because you got a little scratch and your coat got ripped. I’ll buy you a new one, a better one. Don’t you think you’re being a bit petty?”

Alice breathed out a laugh. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Fran released Alice’s hands and held up her own.

Alice searched Fran’s face for any sign of self-awareness, any hint of remorse. Nothing.

“You’re a husk, Fran. You’re incapable of love.” She turned, opened the door, and stepped through it. Such a simple and obvious thing to do, but in the two years she’d been intimate with Fran, she’d never walked away from her before. Throughout their affair, she’d been enthralled by the woman. Yes, she could be cold and haughty, but never had she been so cruel, and in that moment, Alice realised that was who she really was. It hurt like hell, but the spell had been broken.

With her heart thundering in her chest, Alice paced out of the hotel, her little suitcase clattering behind her. She made it to her car before the tears fell. Ugly tears, as she turned the key in the ignition. Anguished tears, when the Fiesta didn’t start the first time. She stroked the dashboard.

“Come on, old girl. Not now, not now.”

Relieved tears, when the Fiesta coughed and spluttered into life. Imagining Fran charging into the road after her, Alice pulled out of the space and sped off, her one functioning headlamp lighting the way. She really needed to get that fixed. She really needed to replace the Fiesta, full stop. But first, she needed to pay off her ridiculous credit card balance and sort her fucking life out.

She really needed to stop thinking for just a minute. She twisted the knob on the stereo. Of all the billions of songs in the world, that insipid track about being in love and giving it your all sang out of the tinny little speakers. The tears came hard. Alice sniffed and wiped her nose on her torn coat sleeve, Fran’s look of wounded confusion in the front of her mind.

Was I too hard on her? Fran had tried to apologise and make amends, hadn’t she?

“Fuck off, John Legend,” she screamed and pushed a tape into the deck, which clicked and whirred until an angry, wronged-woman song filled the car.

That’s better . She turned up the volume, singing along through her snot bubbles.

A jarring mechanical clunk sounded from the deck, then the song distorted as the tape snagged and crinkled into the machine’s inner workings.

“No, no, no.” Alice glanced down and rapidly punched the eject button with her finger. “You ate Madonna already. Don’t take Alanis from me too.”

The tape deck ignored her pleas and devoured the cassette, crunching until it whined a high-pitched scream of mechanical distress and the reels pulled the mangled tape through. Alice flicked her eyes down and pumped the eject button again. Fucking jammed. A truck horn honked like an angry goose.

“Shit!” She swerved back onto her side of the road, slowing to a near stop as she clasped the steering wheel with both hands. The truck’s taillights shone like demonic eyes in the rear-view mirror, thankfully shrinking into the distance.

After a couple of calming breaths — in through her nose, out through her mouth — Alice accelerated again and took the next left off the highway and onto a back road, her favoured shortcut. Her mind whirred in the absence of any musical distraction. The buzz of her mobile phone sounded from her pocket. After the near-miss she’d just had, she resisted the urge to fish it out and glance at the screen, but she didn’t have to look to know it was Fran. Would it be at the other end of the line? Perhaps both? The buzzing stopped, and seconds later came the ding of a voicemail.

Curiosity gnawed at her, but Alice drove on into the inky night. Her headlight illuminated something in the road. A large, dark lump. She leaned towards the windscreen as she drew closer to the obstruction. She glanced in the rear-view; no sign of any other vehicles, so she came to a stop.

Alice climbed out of her car and peered into the darkness.

What is that? A cow?