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Intelligent, well-spoken and beautiful, Helen Pawson has lived a privileged life. Her parents have made sure she wants for nothing. She’s attended the best private schools and has learned to appreciate the finer things in life. In her mind, she has everything she needs at her fingertips.

Her father’s unexpected illness soon turns Helen’s world topsy-turvy. To make matters worse, she experiences a betrayal that will last a lifetime.  Determined to overcome the mental illness she fights she dives head-first into a decision that will change her life forever.

The trials and tribulations of marriage leave her wanting more. From the life she leads.  Displeased and tired of her husband’s dark secrets, Helen sets out on a voyage of self-discovery. One that leads her straight into the arms of dashing Simon.

Startled by the fact that she enjoys carnal pleasures in more ways than one, Helen agrees to Simon’s subtle demands. In doing so, he opens her eyes to the dark and gritty world of being a call girl. A world she begins to crave.

The secrets of Helen’s past follow her at every turn. If she’s to succeed in making something of herself, she’ll need to confront each of her ghosts. Will she be able to set all wrongs to right before it’s too late? Or will her new hunger for more end up swallowing her in the process?

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“They’ve all been tried and tested at some of our other dinner parties.” I told Anthony. “Do you think the menu’s alright then? I don’t want to try anything new in case I make a mess of things.”

“This menu will be fine, trust me. They’ll love it.” He replied confidently.

I’m not so bloody sure about that!

The dreaded evening arrived. Anthony went out to welcome them as their car pulled into the drive. I peered out of the kitchen window hoping I wouldn’t be seen by them. Always brought up to believe that it is good manners when you get invited out to dinner to take a gift along; a bottle of wine, flowers or even some chocolates, I wasn’t sure what to expect from them. I noticed they were both empty-handed. I walked over to the door to greet them as they entered the kitchen and held out my hand,

“Eileen! John! How lovely to see you again.”

“Hello.” She grunted, poker-faced as usual as she glanced at my proffered hand and pushed straight past. John put his hand out, fleetingly shook mine and swiftly pulled it back out of my grasp. Hell fire, did he think he was going to bloody catch something from me if he held on too long? I looked over at Anthony to see if he noticed their reactions towards me…he had. He shrugged his shoulders at me and asked them both if they wanted a glass of wine. Eileen said she’d have a glass but quickly followed with,

“Your father won’t want one, he’s driving.”

Like he had a choice in the matter!

“Would you like a tour of the house, Eileen?” I offered politely.

“I’ll show myself around, or Anthony can give me a tour. You get back to heating the ready meal.” She walked off leaving me totally flabbergasted. I heard her footsteps on the stairs seconds later. Again I looked at Anthony for support and mouthed the words at him ‘get back to heating the ready meal up?’ He mouthed back,

‘Shhh!’ and shook his head. I gave him one of my looks and stomped back to the kitchen. So he was going to let his mother get away with everything. Maybe he would, but I was definitely not going to!

They took their seats in the dining room half an hour later and I served up the starter before sitting down myself. Eileen stared at her plate a few seconds too long, looked over at Anthony and asked,

“What on earth is this?” I just couldn’t resist,

“Why don’t you ask me, Eileen? Anthony doesn’t really remember, and it was me who did the cooking.” She didn’t even acknowledge me or cast a look in my direction.

“They are called Glamorgan sausages (pointing at them), and that is red onion chutney” I said (pointing again), and indicating next the few lettuce leaves and cherry tomatoes, “and that’s a bit of salad on the side.”

I could feel Anthony’s eyes burning into the side of my face and I didn’t give a damn!

“Is it cheese?” She asked.

“Yes. Caerphilly.”

She pushed the plate away, remarking, “Cheese gives me a headache.”

“Forgive me, Eileen.” I said in my sickliest of voices, “I never realised.” I caught a disapproving look in her direction from her husband. The main course also met with disapproval,

“I do think lamb is so terribly fatty. We hardly ever eat it.”

I chose to ignore the comment, carried on eating, and listened to her continued, scathing remarks to Anthony about the décor in our bedroom, our choice of leather suite in the lounge and how we rushed in to marriage far too soon. She pushed her food around the plate as she talked and I noticed the determination on her face. The bloody woman had no desire to eat anything that I cooked and furthermore, she was hell bent on insulting me at every given opportunity.

I could see that John was starting to feel very uncomfortable with her behaviour and perhaps feeling a little sorry for me. He ate everything on his plate and complimented me on the menu, despite the glower he got from his wife. He was interested in, and asked me intelligent questions about my work and badminton, which he apparently had been pretty good at in his younger days. The guy was actually good company and pleasant to talk to. I was pretty adept at being able to hold a conversation with one person and pick up on things being discussed in a second conversation and sure enough, Eileen carried on spewing out her cynicism.

As I served up dessert and placed Eileen’s in front of her I couldn’t stop my sarcasm surfacing,

“Eileen, if the dessert is not to your liking I can get you some ice-cream from the freezer - something that I’ve not prepared.”

It was a waste of time, the woman was so thick-skinned. I was by now, avoiding all eye contact with Anthony and John couldn’t fail to see the warning looks from Eileen while I had been in the kitchen as he became very quiet again. I ate my cheesecake and decided I had enough tension for one night. Pushing my chair back and standing up, I announced,

“Do excuse me folks, I have a headache and I’m going to bed. It has been nice to see you again, John.”

“Too much wine darling?” Anthony asked me sarcastically.

“No! It must be the cheese in the Glamorgan sausages. Good night!” and feigning calmness and serenity I walked out and left them.

I heard their car pull out of the drive fifteen minutes later, which was rapidly followed by Anthony’s footsteps thundering up the stairs. He shoved the bedroom door wide open, hitting the chest of drawers behind it and pointed at me accusingly,

“YOU” he shouted loudly “have embarrassed me tonight, Helen. How dare you treat my mother in that manner?”

I’d already calmed down and was ready for the onslaught I knew was coming.

“So it’s just fine then…the way she has been trying to belittle me all evening? You did not find anything wrong with the things that she said to insult your wife, Anthony? That is acceptable is it…for her to speak to me the way that she did? Does my father talk down to you? Does he insult you at every given opportunity? He never would do that though, he has better manners, and at least he likes you. But if he didn’t, I would still defend you, Anthony. That is what a husband and wife should do after all, support each other. She hates me! I think your dad likes me but he has to do her bidding. I feel sorry for him.”

I struck a chord. The truth hurt! He was beyond furious. Unable to defend his mother further he screamed,

“F*** YOU, HELEN!” and with that, he slammed the bedroom door and was gone. For the first time since we married, I woke up alone the next morning. Anthony slept in one of the guest bedrooms for the night.

Eva Bielby

https://www.evabielby.co.uk

Eva Bielby was born in North Yorkshire in the Northeast of England. She has spent over thirty years of her working life as a company accountant. Eva has a keen interest in spiritualism/mediumship and has attended several workshops to develop her skills further. During her quieter moments, Eva enjoys a cryptic crossword, sudoku, and gardening.

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