Page 11 of The Good Girl

Chapter Ten

It was one of those slow, drowsy mornings where the air felt like soup and even the breeze had given up.

The village shop in Little Bollington was mercifully cool, its old stone walls keeping the heat at bay.

The Thursday bread delivery had just arrived and the aroma wafted down the aisles as Julia moved quietly between the shelves, her basket already half-full of essentials for the next couple of days until the big shop was delivered – the herbal tea she drank but didn’t enjoy, eggs, butter, biscuits for Dee.

Couldn’t have the child starving to death, could she!

Outside, a light plane droned overhead. A motorbike revved in the distance.

She was reaching for a jar of marmalade when she heard them.

Two voices. Women. Older. Unfamiliar. At first she thought they were having a private conversation but it suddenly occurred to her that they were speaking just that bit too loudly for secrets of their own, as though they wanted to share what they knew. And they meant for her to hear.

‘Saw him again the other night,’ one said, just on the other side of the shelving.

Julia froze. Her hand still outstretched.

‘Who?’ Her friend chimed in.

‘The flash lad from the window place, in the fancy red sports car with the private plates. Drives like an idiot most of the time, like he owns the place. Parked up on Croft Lane.’

Croft Lane. The woods. Julia’s stomach turned. Why would Shane be there?

‘Who parks in the middle of nowhere after ten o’clock, eh?’

‘Up to no good, that’s what I said to my Jack. Nobody sits in a car with the engine idling unless they’re waiting for something or someone. Drugs or a woman would be my best guess.’

A short laugh.

‘Well it wouldn’t surprise me about the drugs but I’d put my money on it being a lass. Can’t keep it in his pants that one. Always been the same, I heard.’

Julia’s face burned. She lowered her arm slowly, heart thudding so hard she could hear it in her ears. There was a roaring in her head, like waves whooshing from one side to the other.

‘Bet it’s someone local,’ one of them muttered. ‘Some people are never satisfied with what they’ve got, are they. I feel sorry for that wife of his, nice woman she is, too. Poor bugger.’

Julia placed her basket gently in a gap on the shelf in front. Her mouth had gone dry. Her chest felt tight. She turned without a sound and walked back down the aisle, ducking her head as she passed the counter.

‘Everything all right, Julia?’ called the young girl behind the till.

She raised a hand without looking back. ‘Forgot my purse,’ she lied, the words like gravel in her throat.

Outside, the sun bore down, scorching her already burning face. Julia hurried to her car, pointing the fob and unlocking it with shaking hands. Once inside, she gripped the steering wheel, her breath shallow, the tight ache of humiliation and rage blooming in her chest.

He was doing it again. The old wound reopened, raw and stinging.

But this time it wasn’t private. It wasn’t conducted out of town with some rep he’d took a shine to or a woman he’d met at a bar on a business trip.

It was being dissected in their home village over packets of tea and boxes of cereal.

She’d suspected, of course. The later nights.

The cocky air he had about him. But this was different.

This was public. Gossip, casual and cutting, spreading like a stain over her marriage and her family.

Shane hadn’t even bothered to be discreet.

She pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, fighting the tremble in her hands.

Her nails dug into the leather as shame battled with fury.

Her mind reeled, leaping from face to face, wondering which of her friends and colleagues knew.

Who had laughed. Who had rolled their eyes and nodded knowingly and said, ‘ Poor Julia. ’

The betrayal stung – how could it not? – but it was the humiliation that carved the deepest gash in her heart.

Not the affair, not really, but the cruelty of it.

The casual, arrogant way he flaunted it.

The knowing smirk he wore when he thought she wasn’t looking.

The smugness of someone who believed he held all the cards.

He was trying to humiliate her. Or he simply didn’t care. Either way, it stung. Was this a warning? A power play? Or just another of his endless appetites being fed without thought? And if it was, how long before Dee or Molly heard?

Julia sat up, straightening her back, her face set. Her shame morphed into something else. Cold. Measured. A clarity she hadn’t felt in years. Let them talk. Let the village whisper.

Because soon, there would be a different kind of story making its way through those shelves. One not of affairs or arrogance, but of a woman who had finally had enough. Who stood up. Who fought back.

She started the car. The engine roared to life. She reversed with purpose, tyres squealing slightly as she swung onto the road. Her hands were steady now. Her pulse strong. Heart thudding like a drumbeat. A march toward the inevitable. Not long now.

Let Shane have his secrets. Let him park his car in lonely lanes and think himself untouchable. Let him smile at women with wide eyes and no idea. He wouldn’t be smiling for much longer. And this time, the only one caught off guard would be him.