After splashing water on her face, Wendy returned to where she had dropped the card in her haste to get to the toilet. She picked up the card, the envelope and the heart and carried them through to the lounge.
I love you.
The words were repeated inside the card, written by the person who thought she loved Mike. On the front of the card, in a more professional font by some designer at Hallmark Cards, it said, To The One I Love.
Paula. Bloody Paula Newcombe, Mike’s precious secretary who could do no wrong. She’d fucking done something wrong now. No wonder Mike didn’t need to screw Wendy, he was getting it away with his damn secretary.
Wendy cancelled thoughts of going into town, and sat on the sofa and seethed. She couldn’t ignore it, she had a baby to think of, who unfortunately was going to be blessed with a lying, cheating, conniving bastard for a father. Screwing Paula would have been so simple; she lived in the back of beyond on the Derbyshire border in a tiny cottage, her closest neighbours some considerable distance away. So easy, nobody would have seen his car visiting whenever he felt like it.
Wendy’s brain went into overdrive. She began by putting the card back exactly where it had been, complete with the little heart inside it. He wouldn’t be able to tell she had seen it.
She removed two steaks from their stock in the freezer, and began to prepare a meal he would never forget. She chose the best wine, a beautiful deep red Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and left it out to rest. She settled on Hasselback potatoes, with petit pois tossed in butter, and for dessert they would have his favourite; homemade rice pudding made with cream. She briefly wondered if Paula fed him rice pudding out of a tin. Wendy would prepare a small starter of half a slice of toast with a small piece of pâté. She wanted to make sure he had room in his stomach for his extra-large portion of rice pudding.
She rang him at work. She could hear the surprise in his voice, but explained that as they were going out for a meal on his birthday, she had decided to cook specially for him that evening, just the two of them, because next year there would be three.
‘That sounds lovely, Wendy,’ he said. ‘Let me check my diary–’
‘I’ve already checked the one you keep here,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re free tonight, out at a function tomorrow night, and then it’s your birthday meal the evening following. Tonight is the only night, my darling. Please don’t disappoint me, I’ve already started preparing the rice pudding, and the steaks are defrosting nicely.’
He sighed. Paula would be none too pleased when he told her he couldn’t get out tonight, but she’d get over it. He was seeing her at the function, when Wendy wouldn’t be there…
‘Okay, my love,’ he said to his wife. ‘That will be lovely. You need me to pick anything up?’
‘Nothing. I’ve got the Châteauneuf-du-Pape breathing, and everything else is under control. Everything,’ she emphasised.
‘Then I’ll look forward to it. I have to go, there’s another call coming in.’
She replaced the receiver and smiled. The preparations weren’t quite done, but would be shortly.
Wendy took the sleeping tablets out of the bedside drawer. The doctor had stressed that she mustn’t take more than one, but as she wasn’t sleeping…
She took them down to the kitchen and emptied four out of the small brown container, thought about it for a moment, then added a further two. One had acted pretty quickly with her, but she didn’t like how sluggish it made her feel the next day so hadn’t taken anymore.
She put the six tablets into the mortar and picked up the pestle. She ground them until they became a fine white powder which she tipped into the measured rice. She stirred vigorously until it was dispersed evenly, then put it to one side until it was time to add the rest of the ingredients. She also made a smaller one for herself, and if Mike noticed she would tell him she had omitted the cream in hers, she couldn’t eat such rich food while still feeling queasy.
She looked around, pleased with what she had done. Everything was ready, and she had a few hours before she needed to start the actual cooking.
Mike arrived home feeling a little disgruntled. Paula hadn’t reacted well to his news that he was having an early birthday meal with his wife, and she made damn sure he got an eyeful of her breasts before he headed home.
‘Think about these,’ she said, ‘while you’re eating your swish meal and canoodling with Wendy afterwards. Will she do the things for you that I do? Or will I see you later when you’ve had enough domesticity and you want to fuck me silly?’
‘Unless Wendy falls asleep straight after the meal, I’ve no chance of getting out.’ He smiled. Paula had a massive enthusiasm for sex, one he shared, he simply didn’t like her that much.
‘I’ll wait up until midnight. After that, forget it.’
The dining table looked lovely. He sat down, and Wendy kissed the top of his head. ‘Happy advance birthday, Mike,’ she whispered.
‘Thank you, Wendy, and I must say, this looks beautiful.’
‘I’ve really tried to make it special for you, because in future we’ll have to consider our baby first. So, we’ll begin with pâté. Can you pour the wine, please. A tiny amount for me, don’t forget.’
She headed into the kitchen, and removed the pâté from the fridge. The toaster had popped the slice out, and she cut it into triangles, two each.
Wendy walked through, a small plate in each hand.
‘I thought pregnant ladies weren’t supposed to eat pâté?’
‘I have a really tiny piece. You know how much I like it; I couldn’t sit and watch you have it and me not.’ She smiled at him. ‘Shall we say grace?’
He shook his head. ‘No, that’s only for when we have guests who go to church. Between us we can be simply us, heathens.’
It was a perfect evening. They chatted like an almost normal couple for the first two courses, with Mike complimenting her on her Hasselbacks, saying she had really perfected the technique. She wanted to smash one down on the top of his head, but refrained.
The rice pudding was a triumph, and he didn’t spot at any point that hers came from a separate dish. He drank three quarters of the bottle of red wine, and about a quarter of the white, so by the time he manoeuvred his way through to the lounge where Wendy had promised him brandy and coffee, he was feeling a little woozy.
Within five minutes he was laid on the sofa fast asleep. The brandy bottle, with some poured into his glass, and both bottles of wine were placed strategically on the coffee table, along with a cup of coffee which Wendy guessed would be cold by the time she returned.
She picked up her car keys, slipped on a dark zip-up jacket that wouldn’t zip up, and headed out of the door towards her car.
Ten minutes later she was parked outside Paula’s house, trembling, still unsure of what would happen if she saw Paula. Wendy needed to tell her to stay away from Mike, that she knew about them, and she would, if necessary, go to the board and tell them what was happening.
Her baby was her priority, and her baby needed its daddy at his home, not at somebody else’s. She had pulled the little car as far onto the grass verge as she could and knew it would be hidden from the house by the height of the privet hedge.