Chapter 8
Lila
At the traffic lights, Lila fixed her lipstick, pouted, took a selfie, and posted it to her Instagram.
No hashtags required. She’d have a hundred likes within minutes.
That’s what happened when you made a bit of an effort with your appearance.
It was all marketing, wasn’t it? Everything was just fodder for Facebook, for Twitter, for Instagram.
Of course, she posted simultaneously on all of them.
A gorgeous meal? It went on there. A great night out?
A gym session where she was looking seriously cute? All of it snapped and posted.
Her boss at work had once questioned her level of social activity and she’d pointed out that she worked far longer hours than her job spec required, so she was more than entitled to a few minutes of online action throughout the day.
He’d never mentioned it since and it was just as well, because she had no intention of stopping.
It didn’t matter how she was feeling, whether she was up, down, pissed off or frustrated, the image that she put out there would convince anyone who looked at her pages that she had the most glamorous, perfect life.
And most of the time – okay, some of the time – she did. Her mother had taught her that. If they had a family crest, it would say ‘hair done, lipstick on, face the world.’
According to her social media, every day was a good day. She didn’t have stresses because she was ‘too blessed to be stressed’. She didn’t have casual friends, she had ‘brilliant times with people who loved her’. Some might call it fake, but she preferred to think of it as spreading positivity.
Obviously, there couldn’t be any photos of Ken on her pages, but that would change soon, when their relationship was out in the open and they were together.
Telling Cammy would be a drag, because she was pretty sure he wouldn’t see it coming and he’d no doubt be devastated at losing her, but it was just one of those things.
He’d get over it. It wasn’t as if they were married or had kids.
They’d had a good time, and yes, when she’d split with Ken she might have led Cammy to believe she wanted more, might have been a bit vulnerable and emotional, but she was over it.
Normal service resumed. Thank God. Now to take it to the next level.
And she would. Just as soon as she felt one hundred per cent ready to make her move.
Before she could do anything, her phone rang.
The office number flashed up, so she flicked it to answering machine.
The last thing she needed was someone on her case today.
Probably some paperwork query. Why did they get so hung up on that kind of stuff?
Especially on the Friday before Christmas?
She smashed her target every week – surely that should be enough for them to get someone else to take care of the menial grunt work?
She’d been working this territory since she started with the company straight out of university almost eight years ago, so she knew the best contacts and how to make them work for her.
A bottle of whisky here. A spa voucher there.
She had one doctor who insisted on an overnight stay at Gleneagles every time he placed an order – completely unethical and very expensive, but it was a small price to pay for the amount of business he put her way.
But enough about work. Time to get more important things sorted out.
She checked her watch. Ten forty-five. She’d made it just in time.
She hopped out of the car and into the clubhouse.
In the summer, it was packed with golfers sporting trousers that were crimes against fashion.
In the winter, the die-hards still gathered to socialise, hit a few balls on the under-cover driving range or use the high-tech simulators to improve their game before the start of the next season.
Mum had said that she was teeing off on that stupid machine with Dad, but if Lila made her a better offer there was no way she would resist.
Coffee and a gossip versus four hours of hitting a ball against a screen? No contest.
There were a few raised eyebrows of appreciation as she crossed the bar area, making a beeline for her parents, who were sitting at a table by the window.
Her mum spotted her first. ‘Darling, what are you doing here?’
‘Coming to save you from wrecking a perfectly good morning by spending it hitting a ball with a stick,’ she said, punctuating her words with two cheek kisses for each parent.
Her dad didn’t look thrilled to see her and that irked her.
It always had. Even as a little girl, she could remember desperately wanting his approval, yet never quite feeling like she had it.
In some ways, he and Ken had similar personalities.
Both strong alpha males, leaders, not followers.
Single-minded, driven, successful men who knew exactly what they wanted in life and made no apology for claiming it.
Lila admired that kind of focus – unless it was, like this morning, hampering her social life.
‘We’re just about to get started. You’re welcome to join us if you have shoes that are a bit easier on the feet. Or I could pick you up a pair in the golf shop,’ he offered.
‘Thanks Dad, I’d take you up on that… but I’d rather poke my eyes out with a fork.’
Her mum’s laughter made several of the old guys at the bar smile their way. Of course they did. Her mum – hair done and lipstick on as always.
‘I can’t believe you’re going over to the dark side, Mum. Can’t one of those guys do this with you, Dad, and then my mother and I can sit here and drink coffee like civilised people do?’ she quipped.
‘But, darling, I want to do it. Your dad is going to help me with my swing.’
‘Mum, you hate golf!’
‘Well, sometimes it just takes you a while to appreciate something and now I’m learning to appreciate golf.’
If there was some loaded meaning in there, Lila didn’t want to think about it. Nor did she want to think about the fact that her parents were holding hands and her mother was looking at her dad like they were fifteen and he’d just felt her up at the youth club disco.
Urgh, this was nauseating.
‘And anyway, you know this is good for your dad’s health. The doctor said so.’
Dad nodded, almost smugly. There it was.
Dad’s health. She had absolutely no recollection of it, but apparently Dad had had a heart attack when he was in his early thirties, and then a few scares since then, the last one just before he’d moved home full time.
After the heart attack, his doctors had assured him that he’d live a long, normal life as long as he took care of himself and Jack had taken them at their word.
He ate well, exercised religiously, and, as soon as he’d paid off their mortgage, stored up a considerable pension, and banked enough for a long, carefree retirement.
It had been a well worn mantra over the years.
‘Your poor dad, having to live with a heart condition.’ To be honest, Lila sometimes wondered if it was just an excuse to give him an easy life and have everything revolve around him.
It was after his last scare – thankfully nothing serious – he’d decided to take an early pension deal at work and come home full-time.
Lila had hoped that it would bring them closer together, but so far he hadn’t shown a great amount of interest in her life.
Not that she’d ever admit it or say it out loud, but deep down she knew that she wasn’t a priority in Jack Anderson’s world.
She reckoned the pecking order was golf, Mum, holidays, and she perhaps scraped fourth place. Maybe that would change now. Or not.
‘Never mind darling, pop over at the weekend and we’ll have lunch,’ her dad offered. ‘Call first though, because we haven’t made plans yet.’
With that, and a couple of guilt-free hugs, they were off out the door, still holding hands like they were in the first flush of rampant attraction. It was enough to put her off her lunch.
Back out in the car, she sat for a moment and quietly seethed. She and her mum had been a gang of two her whole life. She knew it was ridiculous, but just for a moment, she felt… envious. What was this? Make Lila jealous day?
She checked her watch. Eleven fifteen. She didn’t feel like trying to squeeze in a couple of cold calls today – wasn’t in the mood – so she should probably just head back across to the hotel to meet Ken.
It was one of those faceless chain hotels, overlooking the Clyde, near the exhibition centres and concert halls.
Not exactly The Dorchester, but she guessed that since he’d suggested it, he was planning to pay.
Cash, no doubt. Didn’t want to lay a paper trail that could make the wife suspicious.
Lila totally understood that, just as she understood that he couldn’t lavish her with gifts or take her to exotic places, and she’d been prepared to put up with it because she knew the endgame.
It would all be worth it when she was Mrs Kenneth Manson.
But she was sick of being second choice.
Sick of it. What was it they always said on those psychobabble training courses her company sent the reps on every year?
Nothing changes unless you make it happen.
If you want to be a winner, you have to see obstructions as opportunities.
And a dozen more tosh-like phrases that everyone forgot the minute they left the Holiday Inn conference hall.
They had a point, though.
She wanted to be with Ken. But there were obstacles. All she had to do was remove them.
Before she could change her mind, she scrolled through her phone, found the number she was looking for and pressed the green button to connect.
‘Central Hospital, Glasgow, can I help you?’
‘Ward 34 please.’
She knew where Ken’s wife worked. It was one of those details she’d sussed years ago.
She’d even seen her once, when she’d persuaded a locum to give her a tour of the ward on the premise of a marketing survey.
Short. Dark auburn hair, swept back in a bun.
No make-up. Completely forgettable. It blew her mind that Ken could be with a woman like this.
‘Ward 34, can I help you?’
It took her a split second to realise that the thudding sound was her heart beating out of her chest. Was she really going to do this? Was she going to be that cliché – the mistress that told the wife what was going on so she could have the guy all to herself?
‘Yes, can I speak to Sister Manson, please? Bernadette Manson.’
Apparently she was.
‘Sorry, Sister Manson isn’t on duty today. Can I take a message?’
There was a pause as Lila fought to control an explosion of emotions. Disappointment. Annoyance. Despair. Impatience. And yes, perhaps a small tad of relief.
‘No, that’s okay, I’ll call back tomorrow.’
Would she? Would she really?
She hung up, a sheen of sweat popping out above her Revlon red lipstick.
No, she wouldn’t call back tomorrow. This had to happen today.
Right now. Winners remove obstacles. Sure, Ken might be pissed off initially, but the last six months they’d spent apart had shown him that he couldn’t live without her.
They were meant to be together, so what was the point in waiting any longer?
He’d thank her when she was riding on top of him in a bungalow suite at Sandy Lane on their honeymoon.
She picked up her phone and stared at it for a few seconds, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal. That last call had been rash. Impulsive. This time, she wanted to think it through, be prepared for what was going to come back on the other end.
Be sympathetic, caring even, but firm.
‘Bernadette? My name is Lila Anderson. I’m afraid I have some news that you might find disturbing, so I’ll come straight to the point.’
Too direct? Too harsh? Too alarming?
‘Bernadette, my name is Lila Anderson. I’m calling to talk to you about your husband, Ken…’
That made it sound like she was about to tell her he’d been run over by a bus. Or that he needed a top-up on his travel insurance.
‘Bernadette, this is Lila Anderson, your husband’s mistress. Yes, he’s a great shag, isn’t he?’
At least that one made her smile and took the heart rate down a notch or two.
Maybe she should wait. Yes, that’s what she should do.
Go, have glorious, earth-trembling sex with Ken, then see how she felt after that.
Only, she knew the answer already. She’d feel cheated.
Sad when he left. Immediately followed by irritation that he wouldn’t make the move he’d been promising for years.
She snatched the phone up before she could change her mind, then scrolled down to the number that had been sitting there, like an unexploded landmine, since about a month after she met the dashing doctor for the first time.
She’d got it from his phone, stored it, knowing there would be a day she might want to use it.
That day was today.
Time to win the end game.
She blocked her caller ID just to be cautious, then pressed the phone call button next to ‘Ken, home’.
It rang.
‘Hello, Bernadette, my name is Lila Anderson. I’m a friend of Ken’s. I wonder if we could meet and talk?’
Yes, that was it.
Still ringing.
Face to face. It would be uncomfortable, but that way Bernadette could see the competition, realise that she didn’t have any chance of winning and she’d walk away. Job done. Obstacle removed.
Still ringing.
‘Hi…’
The shock almost made Lila drop the phone. Ken. His voice.
‘This is the Manson home. Leave a message and we’ll return your call.’
An answering machine. Lila broke the connection and leaned her head back against the leather of the seat.
Fuck. Adrenalin coursed through her veins, closely followed by another dose of that earlier mix of disappointment and relief.
She put the phone down and switched on the engine.
Time to go get laid by her boyfriend.
She could deal with the wife later.