Lizzy Harrison Loses Control by Pippa Wright

Author:Pippa Wright
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780330521710
Publisher: Pan Macmillan
Published: 2011-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

16

When Randy gets home from seeing his personal trainer that evening, I’m ready for him in the kitchen. The toile-de-jouy bra and knickers are not quite covered by a transparent matching chiffon robe, and I am wearing the most ridiculous marabou mules, which are crippling but leg-lengthening in a gratifying way, and just about bearable when I’m sitting down. With my hair artfully pinned up in a manner that looks effortless but took nearly an hour, I’m quite pleased with the overall effect – a sort of sophisticated and pampered housewife who’s saucily entertaining a gentleman on the side. With sufficiently dim lighting I convince myself I can pass, if not for Catherine Deneuve in her Belle de jour heyday, then perhaps a distant relation. Nina the not-cleaner-but-cordon-bleu-chef has helped me to make a chicken casserole, which is warming in the oven. I plan to thank Randy properly for my shopping spree.

I hear his key in the door and swiftly turn off the kitchen light, leaving just a few candles burning on the kitchen table. I arrange myself as seductively as possible in the agonizing mules on one of Randy’s cold plastic chairs. But his tread in the hall is accompanied by another, and I can hear two male voices instead of Randy’s usual shout of greeting. Oh, surely not? He’s brought someone back? Suddenly my seductive housewife look seems hugely trashy and embarrassing. I glance around the room in a panic – where can I go? As the voices come closer, I have to rule out a desperate rush up the stairs; there’s no way I could make it unseen. I lurch towards the larder door and quickly shut myself in, realizing as I do that there doesn’t appear to be a handle on the inside. And that, despite the evening sunshine, it’s like being shut inside a dark, cold fridge. Great.

‘Lizzy?’ calls Randy. ‘Liz? God knows why it’s so dark in here.’ The glimmer of light I can see under the larder door becomes brighter as he flicks on the kitchen light. ‘Guess she’s not home yet.’ As if I’d leave candles burning if I’d gone out – is he blind?

‘Something smells good, mate,’ says Randy’s companion in a strong New Zealand accent, confirming his identity as Wade, the personal trainer.

I can hear the sound of the oven door being opened. ‘Yeah, it’s a stew or something. A Nina the Cleaner special, looks like. Fancy a bowl?’

What? He’s not even going to wait for me? He knew we were meant to be having dinner together this evening. I’ve been priming him with flirtatious texts since five.

‘Yeah, go on, why not?’ says Wade, and the legs of a chair scrape on the kitchen floor as he sits down. ‘Just a little bit – got dinner with the missus later.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ says Randy. ‘But she’ll never know if we make a little dent in it, will she?’

Thanks a bundle, Randy, you old romantic, you. I shiver in the larder and rub my arms to keep warm.

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