Free Wishing and Hoping by Mia Dolan Page A

of fingers.
    â€˜We were always good friends. I never thought it would be anything more than that – though I hoped,’ she said, her green eyes flashing up to face Marcie before they lowered again.
    â€˜What are you trying to say?’
    A voice screamed in Marcie’s head.
You don’t need her to say anything because you know what she’s going to say!
    When Linda Bell took a deep breath her breasts pushed against her coat so that the buttons strained and one came undone.
    Marcie couldn’t take her eyes off that button, probably because she didn’t want to look the woman in the eyes; she did not want to see the woman’s face as she recounted the terrible news.
    â€˜Michael and I . . . well . . . we had a one-night stand. We never meant it to happen. Please believe that. But it did.’ She shrugged her shoulders. As she did so another button came undone. Marcie’s attention dropped to that one in preference to the other – for no reason other than she wanted to claw the woman’s eyes out.
    In order to stop herself doing that, she stood up and crossed to the window, turning her back on the room.
    The traffic on the street outside seemed to roll silently past. If there was any noise she wasn’t really noticing it. She wasn’t really seeing the traffic at all.
    She was aware of Linda shifting in her chair, which creaked as she changed position.
    â€˜I’m not here to cause you any trouble. I just thought you should know.’ She sounded breathless, like an excited child, and certainly not as though she was sorry for what she had done.
    She had had a one-night stand with Michael.
    â€˜I see,’ said Marcie, her voice as icy as the rest of her body. ‘I take it you mean sex when you say it was a one-night stand. You had sex with my husband.’
    She turned round to face the woman. She had a knowing, forthright look. Such a look probably suited a nightclub hostess, which this woman claimed to be. She’d been employed at one of the nightclubs owned by the Camilleris. The hostesses had a reputation for being pretty free and easy with their favours. But she’d wanted to be an exotic dancer and Michael, her kind-hearted husband, had given her the chance. Now how kind was that?
    â€˜So what do you want me to do about it? What are you here for?’
    The slightly raised voice took Linda Bell by surprise. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
    â€˜Well,’ she said at last. ‘As a mother I thought you should know that I’m pregnant.’
    The chill intensified. Marcie felt as though the whole room had turned cold and that her body had turned to ice.
    â€˜I don’t believe you.’
    â€˜I can assure you it’s true!’
    â€˜No.’
    Nothing, nothing on earth could have knocked the wind out of Marcie more so than this. All the same, she was wary. Women could lie for money. That was their job, stroking the egos of middle-aged men so that they would throw caution to the wind and spend more. Lies were their stock-in-trade.
    â€˜How do I know you’re telling the truth?’
    When the girl pouted Marcie was reminded of her stepmother. Despite the difference in colouring, this girl – Linda Bell – had the same brazen attraction that Babs had once had. Given half a chance, men were all over her.
    But this woman was here for a reason, a reason that could tear her apart if she didn’t keep her cool and so far she
was
keeping cool.
    â€˜You could ask him,’ said Linda. ‘I’d go round there myself but he’d only show me the door. He gave me a few quid and told me he didn’t want to know.’
    â€˜So why are you telling me?’
    The woman shrugged. ‘I thought I should do the right thing.’
    More like you wanted some kind of revenge, Marcie thought to herself, if what you’re saying is true.
    Marcie folded her arms and turned back to the scene in the street