Stockings and Cellulite by Debbie Viggiano Page B

took our orders.
    ‘And then he got divorced,’ I prompted her.
    ‘Yes. A quickie divorce followed. Meanwhile I transferred to Hempel Braithwaite to escape the gossip. We then had a discreet civil wedding with me congratulating myself on bagging such a dynamic, successful and distinguished husband.’
    ‘But you haven’t really told me
why
it all went wrong,’ I regarded her over the rim of my wine glass.
    ‘It went wrong when I pointed out that I was in my mid-thirties and horribly aware of the ticking biological clock. I wanted to start making babies, but Gordon already had three children to fund in private education with expensive lifestyles. He told me to direct any maternal energy towards my new step-children.’
    ‘Easier said than done.’
    ‘Too right. His girls positively reviled me. I was the
other woman
who had broken up their parents’ marriage. So then the arguments started with me constantly bitching and sniping.’
    She broke off as the waiter re-appeared bearing plates of spaghetti carbonara.
    ‘It got so bad we were barely civil to each other. And then one day Gordon simply moved out. Just like that,’ she clicked her fingers. ‘Initially I didn’t know where he’d gone. Eventually a colleague gave me a tip-off and I tracked him down.’
    ‘Where was he?’
    ‘Back with his first wife.’ There was a pause while Morag wrestled with her emotions. ‘What am I going to do Cass?’ she looked at me with watering eyes over her untouched meal.
    ‘I’ll tell you exactly what you’re going to do – you’re going to bounce right back and get on with life!’ I sucked a long tendril of spaghetti into my mouth. ‘Who needs men anyway?’
    ‘My vibrator is very good at a lot of things but it can’t make babies.’
    The couple at the next table choked on their garlic bread.
    On the way home Morag drove like a man – fast and aggressive. As she flew down the outside lane of the carriageway it was with a sinking feeling I spotted a blue flashing light in the passenger wing mirror. A split second later a wail rent the cool night air.
    ‘Bugger,’ Morag declared. ‘Is he after us?’
    I twisted my neck to look over my shoulder. Head lamps flashed in confirmation. Morag slowed and pulled onto the hard shoulder before unfolding her shapely legs from the car to greet the police officer.
    ‘Good evening Madam, do you know what speed you were travelling at?’
    As soon as I heard his voice I froze.
    ‘Before we go any further,’ Morag imperiously informed, ‘I’d like you to know I’m a solicitor.’
    ‘That’s nice. And I’m a police officer,’ Ploddy confirmed the obvious.
    I pulled up my collar and slid slowly down in my seat while Ploddy asked if the vehicle belonged to Morag and requested sight of her driver’s licence.
    Irritably Morag flung open the driver’s door. ‘Pass me my bag Cassandra,’ she snapped.
    I leant across the driver’s seat and silently placed the little clutch bag in her outstretched palm. Upon hearing my name, Ploddy peered enquiringly through the open door. As he stared at me in disbelief I could feel myself beginning to squirm. Was he the only police officer in Kent?
    ‘A very good evening to you Mrs Cherry.’
    ‘Thank you – and to you too Mr Pitt.’
    Ploddy stared wordlessly at me before giving the smallest shake of his head.
    Eventually the roadside meeting concluded with Morag being instructed to attend the local police station with all sorts of documents.
    As we set off home at a sedate forty, she gave me a sidelong glance.
    ‘He was almost worth getting nicked for. Did you see his eyes Cass? God they were absolute heaven. And what about those wonderful broad shoulders?
    ‘Mm.’
    ‘I hope he’s on duty when I pay the local nick a visit. He can certainly put me in handcuffs any time. I wonder what his name is. How does he know you?’
    ‘Don’t ask,’ I groaned.

Chapter Six
    Once the twins were back from their weekend with Stevie, we sat