When he’d been sent to prison Margaret had been devastated. For almost two years she’d patiently worked on their relationship and as the head juror pronounced the verdict, she thought it was all over. But love found a way. And as perverse as it may seem, their enforced separation had brought them closer together, allowing them to explore their inner selves and evolve. It was truly romantic, erotic and wonderful.
She’d been shy at first and rather shocked at his suggestions but gradually her inhibitions faded and a whole new world opened up. Once he’d been given his own cell, Herbert acquired a mobile phone and then there was no stopping them. Margaret would text him saucy stories and the odd naughty photo and whenever he got his hands on some Viagra they would have phone sex. Even though he couldn’t be there in body, Herbert was there in spirit.
He’d explained about his ‘down below’ problem in a very moving conversation and Margaret loved that he had confided in her. It seemed that everything had been in working order until Herbie hit his forties. The poor man had been so ashamed, thus thwarting any hopes he had of finding love, sending him deeper into his shell, accepting loneliness would be a permanent state.
No wonder he was flattered by that horrid Abby Mills when she asked for his help and advice that night. He was a trusted, upright member of the church and community, a good Christian so it was natural that he wanted to assist. How was he to know she had an ulterior motive, and once they found a quiet spot to talk she turned, asking for money, threatening blackmail if he didn’t pay up. No way would her Herbieeverbe attracted to someone likethat.Margaret believed his account of events implicitly and had no truck with the drug-addled version given by those reprobate girls.
Not wanting to think about Abby, after all it was wrong to speak ill of the dead, Margaret focused on Herbert and the miracles of science. Thank God in heaven that the boffins had stumbled upon Viagra and that her beloved’s problems ‘down below’ had been solved.
So there was no need to worry about what would happen that evening when she brought Herbert home. Margaret knew she could please him because he’d told her so. He loved her little stories, and how she described exactly what she’d done to herself as she lay in bed all alone, just as he asked her to do. There was nothing wrong with it. Loving couples wanted to please one another: she’d read it in the glossy magazines in the doctor’s surgery.
Margaret had been shocked at first by how frank the articles were, but gradually she became curious. She treated herself to her own copies, absorbing the information given by modern women to other modern women like herself.
Moving aside some of the garments in the drawer, Margaret smiled. The pills unlocked Herbert’s manhood and the collection of dress-up clothes was a way of reliving the past they should have had, and everything they’d missed out on, their fantasies.
Dear sweet Herbie never had a teenage romance and a first kiss behind the bike sheds. Neither had she for that matter. Margaret picked up the school tie and wound it around her neck, then giggled girlishly at her image in the mirror. They would have so much fun and a little bit of role play wouldn’t hurt, then noticing the cane that lay on top of the black schoolmaster’s gown, Margaret prepared herself for a bit of a sting.
The denim shorts and pink vest top had been a special request from Herbie, as had the pale-yellow dress and the nurse’s uniform – that old chestnut. Margaret replaced the tie and closed both the drawers, knowing that if she spent any longer on her collection she’d end up in a frenzy and have to close the curtains and wrinkle the perfectly smooth eiderdown.
Instead she made her way over to the dressing table and seated herself in front of the mirror, focusing on her reflection. It was imperative she looked her best for Herbert so she had driven into town to have her hair and nails done. Regardless of her fifty-five years on earth, now her grey roots had been covered by a deep reddish-brown and the lady in Boots had advised her on the best tones for her skin and blue eyes, Margaret felt reborn and ready.
She wasn’t the ugly duckling anymore, the dowdy spinster who shuffled about the hardware shop in her beige overall, tea-coloured tights and comfy black shoes. She was a woman, with wiles and power – yes, power – over a man. She was alluring, a sultry temptress in the underwear she’d bought for Herbie… Remembering the articles in the magazines, Margaret corrected herself: that she’d boughtfor herself. She was an alluring, sultry temptress and she looked magnificent.
Okay, so she wasn’t perfectly toned but she was slim and her body went in, out and – with a good bra – up in all the right places. In the candlelight she would look like a goddess and, let’s face it, Herbert didn’t exactly have anyone to compare to. He should be grateful. He would be grateful.
Taking the new bottle of perfume, Margaret gave herself a liberal coating of Agent Provocateur, then headed downstairs and on seeing Whisky fast asleep in her favourite spot on the sofa, couldn’t resist giving her darling cat a gentle stroke. Her faithful pet had been the only bone of contention between her and Herbert but as much as she loved him, she adored Whisky too. There was no way she could abandon her just because Herbie wasn’t keen on animals of any kind. Taking Whisky to the shelter was out of the question so when Herbert backed down, Margaret was not only relieved; she was proud of herself too.
Taking her cardigan off the hook she touched the gabardine overcoat. It looked so good, their clothes hanging side by side. Picking up her bag and removing her car keys, Margaret set the alarm and took a fortifying breath before opening the door and stepping outside into the afternoon sun. This was it. In a few hours’ time she would return home with Herbert, her partner, and the new life she’d longed and prayed for could begin. Nothing was going to ruin it, not this time.
7
Frankie flicked through the images on her laptop screen as she ate her toast and listened to the voices on the street outside. Soon, she’d be eating croissants and the sound of suburbia would be replaced by those of the countryside. She had made many trips back and forth to France, house-hunting and taking short breaks and two summer holidays in the area. Frankie knew everything she needed to about her new home and had even made some friends there because the locals were welcoming and curious – in a good way.
There was a family of four that lived down the lane, within earshot and she could see the roof of their home from hers. This had settled Frankie, knowing someone was around but not on the doorstep and while her property was completely private, neighbours were on hand if she needed them.
During her visits she had stayed in the village at a lovely hotel and through the owner, and a good few nights propping up the bar, Frankie had gradually got to know some of the locals. This had led to recommendations for builders and basically anything she needed to renovate her house, an old farmhouse, empty for many years and in need of a great deal of care. Each time Frankie returned to check on progress her new friends made a fuss, and she was never short of invites for dinner and had even been talked into buying a dog. Two dogs in fact.
On her last trip at Easter, Maxence, the hotelier, was excited to tell her that his dog had just given birth to a litter and suggested she should take a look. Frankie fell in love with the French bulldog puppies on sight so it didn’t take too much twisting of the arm to persuade her to take first pick. By the time she arrived back in France the pups would be ready to leave their mum and two of them would be coming to live with her.
She had surprised herself with the decision but the guilt of separating a puppy from its mum, regardless of nature and all that, weighed heavy on Frankie. So the idea of two siblings living together made it all easier and they’d be company for each other if she had to go out. It wasn’t like she didn’t have room, with an acre of land out the back they could run free and not even need to go for walks.
It was all coming together nicely. She finally owned her own home and even after all the renovations she still had a nest egg in the bank. The kitchen was due to be fitted any day after a delivery delay, but the rest had been done: a new roof, windows and two bathrooms, full rewire and all the rooms repainted. Then she had her job that provided a steady income and two gorgeous puppies waiting to meet their new mum. So for the first time in ages, Frankie should have been happy. But then there was Jed.
Apart from the two nights he’d been to training – he taught kick-boxing at the local community centre – they’d spent every moment they could together. There was literally no way she could resist him – and she’d really tried. The thought of never seeing him again, the possibility and logistics of having a long-distance relationship, and the burning question of whether he’d even want one had been searing a hole in her head and heart. The solution had come unexpectedly.
She’d felt bad the first time Jed asked her about her house so glossed over it quickly, then changed the subject. But one evening after sharing a takeaway, he had wanted to see some photos of the house and the area where she was moving to. In contrast to her unenthusiastic response, Jed was impressed by the shots of the rolling scenery, the quaint village and surrounding area and especially the step-by-step photos of the renovation. He even made a few suggestions.
‘You know what I’d have if that were my house? A big front porch, like you see in American films, you know with one of those swinging chairs but perhaps nowadays you’d have a trendy sofa set. Look, and because your door is in the middle, on this side you could have a huge dining table for eating outdoors, and steps up the middle.’ Jed had looked up, his face awash with enthusiasm until he saw Frankie’s expression.
‘I’m being pushy, aren’t I… sorry, it’s just when I see the opportunity for a bit of joinery the carpenter in me wants to get out. I’ll zip it. Your house, your dreams.’ He placed the photos back on the table and took a drink of his tea.
Frankie grabbed his free hand. Her next words were even more surprising than when she said she wanted two puppies. ‘No, it’s a fab idea. It’s not that.’
‘Oh right, good. What is it, then?’ He lifted his cup, looking a bit nervous.
She felt nervous too but decided to get it over with, even if she did crash and burn. ‘Will you come and stay, for a visit, once I’ve got settled, as soon as you can?’
Jed stopped mid-swig. ‘Are you serious?’
