Chapter Six
Tuesday afternoon and Cassie was busy working.
She had a few more tweaks to make to the website she had spent the last three weeks designing and then it would be ready to share with the clients.
She was pleased with what she had come up with for the couple who ran a florist’s shop.
It had been such a pleasure to work with them and she would be sure to use them whenever she needed to send flowers to anyone.
Her work as a website designer was varied and absorbing and, on the whole, creatively satisfying.
She had an eclectic mix of clients which included a micro-brewery, a farm shop, a care home, an accountant, an author and an all-female private detective agency.
Of all her clients, the detective agency intrigued her the most.
Stretching her arms above her head, then flexing the muscles in her neck and shoulders, she pushed back her chair and stood up.
Her office was on the upper floor of their apartment and in the turreted room with panoramic views of the grounds through three arched windows.
In the middle of the room was an oak spiral staircase that led to the roof garden and she was sorely tempted to go up there and relax while listening to the current true-crime podcast she was hooked on.
In the past few months, she had developed an addiction for podcasts about previously unsolved murder cases.
She didn’t care to explore too deeply why she found them so appealing, other than she liked the idea of justice being served if the guilty were finally exposed.
With great restraint she ignored the spiral staircase and went down to the kitchen to make herself a drink.
When the kettle had boiled, she reached for the box of green tea bags.
It was far from her favourite drink, but she kidded herself that it was good for her, so she drank at least two cups every day.
As with so much in her life, she always had to add a teaspoon of virtuous self-denial or outright punishment to make good on the many indulgent excesses she enjoyed.
Her latest mission to cleanse and detox her body in the hope of losing weight hadn’t lasted long, no more than a pathetic couple of days – her vow of abstinence broken by those glasses of wine she’d had with Nina.
The weighing scales daily reminded her that those surplus-to-requirement pounds were not going to disappear without more effort on her part.
She consoled herself with the thought that she still had the rest of the summer to lose the weight, so plenty of time yet for a crash diet before her fortieth birthday.
She knew it was shamefully superficial of her to worry about something so insignificant as her weight and a few lines and wrinkles, but a girl had her pride, and she was determined to retain as much of her youth as she could.
Nina had clearly managed it, so why couldn’t she?
It was just a matter of willpower. And maybe a little help.
Botox wouldn’t help with the weight loss, but it would certainly assist in smoothing out any unwanted lines.
Whenever she half joked with Ben that Botox would be an ideal early birthday present, he would frown and say something adorable like loving her just as she was.
And therein lay the problem. Just as she was. How about when she was as big as a house, which according to those weighing scales was where she was heading?
Ben was always so supportive of her and often said that if she ever wanted to give up designing websites and do something else, he would back her.
Once or twice, she had considered she might like to do something new but could never decide what.
Admittedly there were moments when she thought it might be nice to have nothing more complex to think about other than a yoga or Pilates class to attend, or lunch out in Cambridge with a friend, but she knew that would make her even more superficial and horror upon horror, totally irrelevant.
Her website design work had been good to her over the years and generally her clients had been good to her too; many had been with her for a long time as she also managed their websites.
Of course, the truth, as Ben was at pains never to say, was that he easily earned enough for the two of them.
More than enough. But her work, as modest as it was, represented something important to her: her independence.
It was her safety net, just as it had been when she had been on her own with Emily.
Everyone needed a safety net, that was one of the most important lessons she had learnt, and if she was working at something that didn’t necessarily bring her one hundred per cent satisfaction but paid the bills, it did at least give her a degree of security in case Ben ever left her.
Not that he ever gave her any reason to think he would, but you never knew.
Life – Drew-the-Terrible in particular – had taught her never to take anything for granted.
One of the few times Ben had ever really lost his temper with her had been over her fear that he might leave her.
They’d been out for dinner with some of his work colleagues, one of whom was a girl called Anneka who was clearly as bright as she was attractive.
All the way home in the car afterwards Cassie had dropped hints about Anneka and how Ben must enjoy working with her, going so far as to suggest that she was far more his type than Cassie was.
He’d told her she was talking rubbish and that had made Cassie say, ‘Well, that’s my point exactly, I bet Anneka never talks rubbish! ’
From there things had escalated until they were home and Ben had lost it. ‘You have no grounds on which to think that I would ever leave you,’ he’d exclaimed angrily, ‘none whatsoever! Do you have any idea how insulting it is that you could think I’m anything like Drew?’
She’d had no rational argument to offer, other than to apologise and assure him she thought no such thing. The trouble was, deep down there was a small niggling part of her that didn’t think she deserved Ben. Or the amazing life they had together.
Carrying her drink, she went back upstairs to her office. Standing at one of the arched windows, she saw a now familiar tall and slender figure heading towards the woods. It was their new neighbour, Venetia Randall-Jones, and she marched along at a surprisingly fast pace.
‘There she goes again,’ Ben had said yesterday morning when they’d been having breakfast and seen Venetia from the kitchen window. ‘Do you think she’s obsessed with reaching a daily step target?’
‘Maybe so,’ Cassie had said. ‘I just hope I have the same level of energy when I’m older.’
The Enforcers had referred to the new occupant of the apartment below Ben and Cassie’s as an ‘old lady’ or a woman ‘getting on in years’ but from what Cassie had seen, that description was very far from being appropriate.
The woman she and Nina had met that evening when they’d introduced themselves could have been in her late sixties or maybe early seventies.
There had certainly been nothing ‘elderly’ about her in her denim jeans and silvery-grey linen blouse, a colour that had toned perfectly with her well-cut jaw-length bob of hair.
Alert and elegantly streamlined had been Cassie’s first impression.
And considering she had just moved in that very day and must have been tired, the woman looked as fresh as the proverbial daisy.
She thought much the same thing now as she watched Venetia striding out of the bright sunshine and disappearing into the shadowy gloom of the woods.
The funny thing was, Cassie was sure she’d seen her out late last night, the light of a torch glowing faintly in the darkness.
It seemed an odd thing for anyone to be doing, never mind a woman on her own who had just moved in.
Hope Hall didn’t really seem the obvious choice for a single woman of a certain age, which, Cassie knew, was both sexist and ageist of her, but it wasn’t like the woman could walk to any convenient shops; everything was a car drive away.
Having said that, Venetia Randall-Jones drove an enviably sporty little number: a beautifully sleek Mercedes SLK.
Cassie had wanted to call on her again, just to be friendly, but she didn’t want to come across as an interfering neighbour.
That was a job best done by the Enforcers, who doubtless had been at fever pitch making themselves thoroughly well known.
As they’d said they would, Cheryl and Joanna had sent out an email inviting everyone to a welcome drinks party for their new neighbour.
It was to be held on the lawn this coming Friday evening and everyone had been asked to bring a bottle and a plate of bite-size snacks. Glasses would be provided.
From behind Cassie came the tinkling ringtone of a FaceTime call on her computer.
When she saw that it was Emily, her happiness came at her in an instinctive rush of pleasure, but then it was eclipsed by an unforgivable snark of resentment – Oh, so after more than six days of not hearing from you, you finally have time to call me!
Pushing the ugly thought away, she warned herself not to utter a single barbed comment about Drew-the-Terrible. As Ben would say, she had to play nicely, so Emily would be encouraged to share more with her.
‘Hi, Ems,’ she said cheerfully, using the pet name that only she had been allowed to use by Emily, at the same time mentally figuring out the time difference and concluding it was early evening there in Dubai.
‘This is a lovely surprise, how are—’ But before she could say any more, her daughter’s face crumpled and Cassie lurched forward in her seat. ‘Ems, what is it? What’s wrong?’
It was a few seconds before the poor girl could speak and during those moments, myriad thoughts flew through Cassie’s head.
Emily had discovered just what a selfish, hardnosed fraud her father was.