The Marriage K.L. Slater (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

With the new customer still browsing, I moved in on Audrey. ‘Don’t lie to me. I know something weird was happening there.’ I made a real effort to dampen down the emotion, but it still slipped through, showing itself in my shaking voice. ‘You’re my oldest friend and I’m asking you to level with me. Did she send you round to the house yesterday to taunt me with that article?’

‘Of course not!’

I wanted Audrey to tell me the truth, but I wanted that truth to be something innocent. Something that didn’t threaten our friendship or complicate my life even further. The things I’d told her about Bridget, about my deepest feelings … had she really been betraying me? Because that was what it looked like.

Audrey looked suddenly gaunt. ‘Can you watch the shop for me while I make us a drink?’

‘I don’t want a drink. I want you to tell me why Bridget Wilson was here and what you were talking about.’

Audrey glanced anxiously at the customer browsing the scarf rack. ‘When she’s gone, I’ll close up for half an hour and we’ll talk. I promise. I’ll make that drink. Your hair looks great, by the way. You look years younger.’ She disappeared into the back of the shop. I heard crockery rattling in the kitchen and I willed the customer to leave quickly.

Bridget had said she was asking Audrey if I was OK, which was ridiculous. To my knowledge, Audrey hadn’t spoken to Bridget since Tom went to prison. The two women knew each other, of course, and there had been family occasions where they’d met and exchanged pleasantries in the years before. But in the end, they had both been my friends, never friendly with each other. For years, all the meeting up and socialising Bridget and I did was based around the children, and Audrey didn’t have kids.

‘Hello?’ the customer called out. ‘I’d like the price of the long purple scarf, please.’

‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ I picked up the scarf and saw there was no little price sticker. The next one was the same. ‘These must have been put out before they were priced up. One moment, I’ll ask my manager.’

The customer nodded and moved on to the belts. I walked to the doorway that led through to the kitchen and back office.

‘Audrey, can you come through to the shop for a moment?’

There was no answer. I heard the hot water urn spluttering and hissing.

‘Audrey? A customer has a query about the scarves.’

Silence.

I glanced back into the shop. Our policy was to never leave it unattended when a customer was present. I walked down the short hallway, ensuring I still had sight of the woman. The kitchenette was empty. I pushed open the door to the office, expecting to see Audrey caught up on a phone call or looking at something on the computer, but that was empty too.

Which left only one place. The cloakroom.

‘Audrey? You in there?’ I rattled the handle, expecting it to be locked, but the door opened and Audrey wasn’t in there.

I dashed into the office again with new eyes. Her handbag and coat were nowhere to be seen. The fire door leading to the back yard was closed, and I wondered if she’d popped out with a rubbish bag to the bins we shared with the neighbouring shops and inadvertently locked herself out.

I pushed down the emergency bar and the heavy, solid door swung open. A cat jumped out of an over-full bin and scurried out of sight, but other than that, the area was empty.

Audrey was nowhere to be seen. It seemed like she’d simply vanished into thin air.

I closed the fire door and rushed back into the shop, ready to explain to the customer that I had to close up, but she’d obviously got tired of waiting for me and had already left.

In the back, I searched through each room again and there, on the kitchenette worktop, was a note in Audrey’s handwriting:

So sorry, Jill, feel unwell and had to leave. Will explain everything about Bridget very soon. Please close the shop for me. Will be in touch when I feel better.

What kind of explanation was that for doing a disappearing act without a word? It was outrageous – totally out of character for Audrey, who was a stickler for opening up and closing at the correct times.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and called her number. It was turned off and my call went straight to answerphone. I left a garbled message. ‘Audrey? Where are you? Why did you take off like that? Call me when you get this message.’

I followed it up with a text as an insurance policy, so that she’d see at least one of my messages when she turned the phone on:

What happened? I’m worried about you! Contact me asap or I’m coming over.

At the counter, I scribbled a hasty note on a sheet of printer paper with black marker pen: SORRY! SHOP TEMPORARILY CLOSED DUE TO UNFORESEEN CIRCUMSTANCES. I stuck it to the glass with Sellotape – one of Audrey’s pet hates – and then engaged the latch, bolted the door and pulled down the blinds.

I’d give her a couple of hours and then I’d go to the house. If she wasn’t there, I’d wait. In the meantime, there was somebody else that owed me answers.

Thirty-Five Bridget

When I got back home from the charity shop, Tom was watching football in the living room.

I’d driven around a bit after leaving the shop and I felt calmer now.

I breezed in and kissed him on the cheek.

‘Is it too early for a gin?’ he called as I walked past. ‘I’ve been dying to tell you all about the gym. Where have you been?’

‘Here and there,’ I said vaguely. ‘I’ll jump in the shower and then we can have a drink. Can’t wait to hear all about it.’

Upstairs, as I soaped my skin and washed my hair, I tried to