See Janet play
Disconsolate, Janet washed the lunch things then fetched the paint and brushes, laid sheets of paper on the carpets and proceeded to empty the cupboard for the first coat.
At the back of the top shelf on John’s side, she found a big box. Intrigued, she opened it and there, nestling on a bed of tissue paper, lay the most beautiful bag she’d ever seen. Caramel coloured Italian leather, soft and sensuous.
What a darling John was, remembering her birthday a whole month in advance. She smelled the rich aroma and stroked it gently. Then her fingers found a small, hardly noticeable nick in the leather near the catch. I hope he asked for discount, she thought, examining it. This must have cost a fortune.
Warmed by his generosity, she replaced the box, almost wishing she hadn’t had this preview of her present. But she couldn’t help smiling to herself while she gave the whole cupboard the first coat of Cloud White enamel.
Later, she made herself a toasted sandwich and watched Survivor until after ten when she heard John’s key in the lock
“Sorry I’m late, there was a presentation at the Club,” he said. “You know how these things go on.”
“Hungry? I can make you something…”
“Nope, I’m fine. I’m whacked so I’m off to bed.”
“I’ll join you,” she said, reaching for the remote.
“No, watch till the end. I’m off to sleep, I’ve had a long day.”
“Can’t take all that fresh air, huh?” She teased, determined not to carp.
“Yuck, what’s that horrible smell? Paint?” he mumbled. “How’m I supposed to sleep with that pong?”
The smell of liquor on his breath was overpowering and he bumped into the door-frame as he passed. Janet hated it when he came home drunk so she watched to the end of the programme, sure that he’d be snoring by the time she went upstairs.
See Janet with her Mum and Dad
“This smells wonderful, Mum, let me help you carry it through.”
Janet always looked forward to Sunday lunch at her parent’s house. Nothing she cooked ever tasted as good as her mother’s roast.
“You go and find the men,” said her mother. “I’ll just make the gravy.”
Jack and her father were drinking a beer in the garden.
“Come on, guys, lunch is ready,” she called.
“I was just saying to Jack, he should get onto the greens a bit more often,” said her father. “Haven’t seen him there for a couple of months. You could do with the exercise, Jack my boy, eighteen holes will keep you trim.”
Jack flushed dark red.
“I’ve played a round every week,” he said. “We must have missed each other.”
“Nope, saw the list in the secretary’s office,” grinned her father. “Last time you played was in February, I reckon.”
“I forgot- I’ve been playing at Shotley Club,” said Jack. “With a mate of mine.”
“Ah, playing away, eh?” Her father laughed at his own joke. “Mm, smell Mum’s roast lamb. I could eat a horse.”
Janet said nothing, but she started to wonder about the weekly golf games. Playing away.
See Janet win
“I know I haven’t an appointment but I was hoping you’d be an angel and fit me in for a trim and blow-dry?”
The stunning blonde with the gorgeous mop of hair batted her impossibly long eyelashes at Janet. “Special date tonight.” She gave a breathy little giggle.
I bet those false eyelashes and that giggle gets them every time, thought Janet sourly, checking the appointment book.
“Sure, I have a free slot. Come through now and Ettie will wash your hair. Oh- name, please?”
“Honey Andrews.”
Honey settled herself on the chair with a pile of celebrity magazines and smiled at her refection.
“While I’m here, could you do golden highlights?” she asked sweetly.
Highlights took much longer than a trim but possession of the seat was nine points of the law so Janet smiled equally sweetly.
“Of course.”
“It’s silly isn’t it, the way men prefer blondes? But they really do,” confided Honey. “My boyfriend’s mad about my hair. He’s such a darling. Talk about sensitive to my every need! I just happened to admire a fabulous bag and he bought it for me. And let me tell you, it wasn’t cheap.”
“Lucky you,” murmured Janet, pouring peroxide into a little dish and donning rubber gloves.
“Married guys are often the best bet when it comes to boyfriends,” continued Honey. “They’re not after commitment, know what I mean?
Janet had often thought it was odd the way women opened up under her fingers, revealing the most intimate details of their lives to a perfect stranger.
“And they’re so grateful for the attention, they spend their money like water. Shame, this one’s forced to come over most nights, he reckons the smell of fresh paint is driving him out of the bedroom! I said to him, that’s the weakest excuse I’ve ever heard but hey, the guy’s bored at home, so what can I say?”
Janet swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. John had kept complaining that the smell from the cupboards gave him a headache. She’d almost laughed the night before, telling him that was supposed to be her line, but he’d looked so fed up she’d said nothing while he slept in the spare room again.
She started the highlights at the back of Honey’s head, and then moved to the side to carry on, tripping over a heap of packages as she did so.
“Oops, sorry, I’ll just move these,” she said, picking up the pile of shopping and the outsized leather bag.
She stopped. Right next to the clasp was a small nick in the leather.
She felt cold all over but her thoughts went into overdrive.
“Oh, you’ve also found one of these fakes at the market?” she smiled, picking it up. “Fantastic bargain for only ten dollars, weren’t they?”
“Fake? No way, this is the real thing. A Fonterelli, it cost my boyfriend a fortune.”
Janet looked at her sympathetically. “I guess he hoped you’d think so! I’ve got one identical. And it’s got the same small nick in the plastic. Rejects, you see, that’s why they’re so cheap.”
“Plastic? But it’s genuine calf leather – smell it!”
“The smell comes out of a can, sweetie,” said Janet. “But it’s still a nice bag, don’t you think?”
Honey’s thunderous expression told her she didn’t agree.
An hour later while she was paying, she took out her purse and shoved the bag across the desk.
“Can you get rid of this for me, please,” she said coldly. “Throw it away. I’m not carrying around this piece of tat. I don’t do fakes and I don’t do plastic.”
“Sure,” said Janet. “That’ll be thirty dollars for cut, highlights and blow-dry.”
She tried not to shriek with triumph until Honey was well out of earshot.
See John Run.
Janet was waiting for John when he came home, still in her yellow overall. She’d put the bag in her own cupboard where she felt it belonged.
“Back already?” he said. “You’re early.”
“You promised never again,” she said quietly. “After that temp.”
“What do you mean, sweetheart? Why the sour face?”
So he was going to bluster his way out of it.
“I mean Honey Andrews.”
He looked at her for a long moment in silence. Janet thought he was about to fold her in his arms and beg her forgiveness once again, but he suddenly gave a bark of laughter and said, “Okay, guilty as charged. I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m moving out.”
“Yes, you are,” she said. “Tonight. Now.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” he said. “I’ll throw a few things in a bag. Plenty of room for me at Honey’s place. She’s been begging me to make it permanent.”
“I’ll pack the rest of your stuff and leave it in the garage,” she said. “By the way, the bank manager phoned; he wants a word about the overdraft. He sounded really angry that you’ve been ignoring his letters.”
“I’ll deal with him; it’s all a misunderstanding,” said Jack shortly, and went upstairs.
Janet sat down, her knees like water. It had been so easy. The huge scene she’d imagined hadn’t happened. Her marriage was over and she felt nothing at all, just a sense of relief.
She had a feeling her parents wouldn’t be very surprised. They’d done their best to like John but she’d always been aware of a coolness. And Ettie would make no bones about it, she’d be pleased.
John, on the other hand, might be disappointed to find that Honey preferred married men.
About the author
Ginny worked as a graphic artist in the UK, a char in Australia and a tutor of English in Hong Kong, before come home to South Africa and starting to write fiction.
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