April Fool

By Janet Baldey

         Josie snatched the ‘phone away, the high wailing cry still ringing in her ears.   Somebody’s strangling a cat, she thought. Then she realized. Of course, that would be Ken playing one of his childish tricks on her. Any minute now a ghoulish voice would gibber and cackle down the line. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind but then stopped. The wail was beginning to coalesce into sobs and Josie frowned. She was puzzled, she knew now it wasn’t Ken, he wasn’t that good an actor.  

         ‘Josieeee’. 

 With a jolt, she realised who it was. Lorraine, her friend since they were at school together.

         ‘Lorraine?  What’s wrong?’

‘Oh Josie, Matt’s gone, he says he isn’t coming back.  He left me a letter, he…...’   The rest of her sentence was drowned in hiccups.

         Josie was dumbstruck.  Lorraine and Matt? The perfect couple? The couple who had everything? 

         At last, she found her voice.

         ‘Calm down, love. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. I’ll be right over. You can tell me all about it and then we’ll have lunch and hit the shops.  You know a spot of retail therapy always cheers you up’.

         An hour later, Josie arrived at the luxury riverside penthouse she had always envied.  Inside, the normally chic and well groomed, Lorraine was a sodden heap of misery sprawled on a sofa.  Sans slap, her eyes were red and swollen and her face was puffy and streaked with tears.

        

 

Lorraine was pathetically pleased to see her old friend.  Dabbing at her eyes with a hankie already streaked with mascara, she grasped Josie’s hand and drew her down to sit beside her. Her voice hitched with tears as she spoke.

‘Yesterday, as soon as I came in through the door, I knew something was wrong.   The flat felt cold and empty and it was so quiet. I went into the bedroom and all his clothes were gone.  He’s taken everything, Josie. His record collection, his books.  He left me a note’.

She handed over a crumpled piece of paper.  It was quite brief.

Lorraine,

I’m sorry to have to write a note like this, but we both know our marriage is going nowhere. I have met someone else and am giving up my job and going away to find happiness.  Will write when I am settled. 

Matt

         Josie stared at Lorraine.  She had no idea how to deal with this. What could she say?  Mouthing platitudes that she knew were woefully inadequate, she tried to comfort her friend but Lorraine’s sobs grew louder. After a while, Josie decided it was time to take positive action.

         ‘Go and wash your face’ she said firmly. ‘We’ll go shopping for a new outfit.   That’ll make you feel better and then we’ll have lunch at Marco’s.  We’ll really pig out.’

         Whilst Lorraine was in the bathroom, Josie looked around. She’d always admired this room, with its powder blue carpet and white leather settees.  She crossed over to the picture window and looked down at the river sparkling on its way to the sea.   

Boxy tramp steamers punched the tide, accompanied by a cloud of gulls. But the efficient double glazing quenched all sound and suddenly Lucy felt claustrophobic. It was like living in a Perspex cube.  She thought affectionately of her own tiny house, with its cramped rooms and no view to speak of.  She also felt a rush of guilt about

Ken. He had been working so much overtime recently and she knew it was only because she had wanted what Lorraine had.  The moment he got home this evening she would tell him that nothing mattered, as long as they were together.

  The rest of the day was not a success.  Lorraine drooped around the shops, listlessly fingering clothes that she was obviously not interested in.  Over lunch her mood changed and she launched into a vitriolic litany of all Matt’s faults and failings, stabbing at her food as if it were tender pieces of his anatomy. Josie had shrunk further and further into her chair as she realised that people sitting at tables nearby were falling silent.

 

The day that had started badly went rapidly downhill.  On her way home at last, Josie got stuck in a traffic jam. She looked at her watch and tapped her fingers against the steering wheel. Come on, get a move on. At this rate Ken will be home before I am.   At least, I’ve got steak in the freezer, that won’t take long to cook.  She glowered at the ribbon of red tail-lights gleaming on the wet road. Inch by painful inch the car crept forwards. Josie puffed out her cheeks and looked around.  

Suddenly, she gasped and trod down hard on the brake pedal.  She recognised the car parked in the driveway of the house she was passing.  Same make, same model, same registration number – it was Ken’s car.  A cold hand squeezed her heart.  What was it doing there?   It was way off his route home.  She felt a stab of panic, he had been late home so many times recently.  He had told her he was working overtime but maybe he wasn’t.  Maybe had another woman, like Matt.  She shook her head in disbelief at the idea, Ken wasn’t like that.  But then, that was probably what Lorraine had thought about Matt.  Suddenly, it all made perfect sense, the late nights, Ken’s tiredness, everything. The rat!   She glared at the neat semi-detached sitting smugly at the roadside, her anger rising.  Well, he can forget supper.  He’s got some explaining to do.  The car behind her hooted impatiently, the jam had cleared.  Viciously, she let in the clutch and the car bounded forwards.

Sure enough, when she walked into the sitting room, the answerphone light was flashing.  She pressed a button and heard her husband’s soft Irish brogue fill the room.  

‘Sorry, love. Will be a bit late home tonight. Tell you why later’.

You bet you will.  She flung herself down in the armchair, she felt drained.  She switched on the TV and with unseeing eyes, stared at the kaleidoscopic images that flickered across the screen. What a fool she’d been. She’d swallowed all his lies. She’d even found a logical explanation for the red hair she’d spotted glinting on his suit. She looked across at Mitzi, their red setter, stretched out on the rug. Tears trembled on her lashes and she reached for a box of tissues.

It was 8.30 before he got home.   He started speaking even before he entered the room.  

‘Sorry, I’m late love. Poor old John.  His car broke down and he was in such a panic. He’s got some urgent calls to make first thing in the morning so I lent him mine and came home on the bus.  First one didn’t turn up and the second was late.  Public transport!  What a shambles’.

He walked into the room and saw her sitting there amongst a drift of balled-up tissues.

‘What’s the matter?  Got a cold?’  He aimed a kiss somewhere in the direction of her head.

‘Is supper ready?  I’m starving’.

She sat staring at him. Of course, she remembered now. That was John’s house.   Ken had pointed it out to her once.  What an idiot she was and what a nasty, suspicious mind she had.

Full of remorse, she sprang up and gave him a long lingering kiss before rushing to the kitchen where she frantically started thawing steaks with a hairdryer.

 Puzzled, Ken stared at the door.  Then, he poured himself a drink and sat down, relief flooding through him. Well, that went okay. Thought the old ‘working late at the office’ excuse was wearing a bit thin. He smiled to himself. It had been his lucky day. John’s car breaking down – what a perfect excuse. He’d looked across the room and saw Julia looking at him and knew she would jump at the chance of giving him a lift. Via her place first of course. He stretched voluptuously and rustled open his newspaper. It was then he noticed the date, April Fool’s day, he thought and grinned.

 

Copyright Janet Baldey