HOLIDAY STRESS?
Take time out and relax with a quick read from 1996
The restroom door opened. “Serves her right, the conniving cow! She got exactly what she deserves – absolutely nothing.” “Shhhh, sh, Virginia. She might be in here.”
Stephanie recognised her stepdaughters’ voices and quickly lifted her feet on to the seat. The sound of high heels clicked as one of them scanned the cubicles.
“No-one here. She must have slipped out the back.
Why on earth did you invite her to lunch, Dorothy?”
“Well, it seemed only polite. I mean, she was married to
Dad for three years.”
There was the sound of a compact opening. “To give her credit, she didn’t bat an eyelid when the will was read. Do you think she knew?”
“Don’t be so naïve, Dorothy! Of course she wouldn’t have known. Probably thought she’d get the lot and was stunned into silence. She’s a typical gold-digger. We’re well rid of her. Stepmother! She’s younger than we are.”
“How long shall we give her in the house?”
“Mmm, mmm…” Lipstick being applied. “Leave it up to the lawyer. Not a wonderful price but at least we don’t have to wait around for the money. I’m surprised it sold so quickly.”
“Well, I think it’s great! I’m going to miss Dad’s hand-outs.”
Moving her cramped muscles slightly, Stephanie silently urged them to leave. Totally selfish, the two of them had no idea of her relationship with James. He had been her friend, her mentor, her lover – after a month, she still missed him dreadfully. The tears welled up and spilled over on to her cheeks.
“Hurry up, Dorothy. Let’s get back for dessert. At least now we don’t need to pretend outrage on her behalf. Hopefully, this is the last we’ve seen of her.”
The restroom door slammed on their laughter.
Stephanie remained still for a moment and then put her feet hesitantly on the ground, feeling the blood rush painfully through her legs. The restroom was silent, the sound of their laughter still mocking her as she walked to the mirror.
A slim 40-year-old peered short-sighted back at her, eyes red, mascara smudged. She recalled someone had once described her as “well-preserved”.
Looking closely at her reflection under the forgiving fluorescent light, Stephanie detected new worry lines on her forehead, new streaks of grey in her hair – the legacy of nursing James through those three awful months as the cancer took hold.
Not that she regretted it for a moment. The last month of his life had, strangely, been the most fulfilling in their relationship, a soul-searching time of tears, promises and laughter.
Stephanie set about repairing the damage to her make-up, remembering the first time she had seen him, walking home from the supermarket, shoulders hunched against the rain.
She’d watched him for a moment, then surprised herself by offering him a lift home.
Home had turned out to be one of those posh places on the waterfront and over a cup of tea, they had forged a friendship that would have lasted a lifetime, if the cancer hadn’t intervened.
Stephanie paused for a moment, comb in hand. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the day or time when she realised that she loved him.
It had crept up on them slowly, not the allencompassing passion of youth but a slow growth out of friendship and respect. He introduced her to a world she’d only dreamed of – fine wines, literature, the theatre – and she’d given him a touch of youth again, a fresh way of looking at the world.
They’d almost never seen Dorothy or Virginia, apart from the initial arguments over their marriage or when the sisters’ hands were out, crying poverty. Even when the diagnosis was given, they didn’t come. The odd phone call, that was it.
The two women certainly weren’t there for the hospital visits, the chemotherapy, the bathing, the incontinence, the round-the-clock care. The only time she had really seen them was at the end, weeping their crocodile tears, talking to the lawyers. Then they’d scuttled back into the woodwork – until now, the reading of the will.
Stephanie checked her handbag. It was still there.
She placed it stragegically on top of her car keys and raised an imaginary glass. “This one’s for you, James! Rest easy.”
Tossing back her hair, head held high, she strode back into the restaurant.
“Oh, hello, Stephanie. We thought you’d gone.” Dorothy painfully arranged her face into a welcoming smile.
“Just bumped into an old friend,” Stephanie lied.
“You will join us for dessert, won’t you, dear?”
“No thank you, Virginia, I must run. I have some business to attend to.” Stephanie reached into
‘ She’s a typical gold-digger. We’re well rid of her. Stepmother! She’s younger than we are’
her bag and pulled out the car keys. The Lotto ticket fluttered out on to the table.
Virginia picked it up. “Don’t lose your ticket, dear.”
She handed it over and smirked, “You’ll probably be needing it now.”
Stephanie put it securely back in her bag. “Actually, Virginia, I’m just about to cash it in. Remember several months ago, someone local won the three million dollar draw and it was never claimed? Well, that was James. He gave it to me on the strict instructions that I didn’t claim it until he died.”
She watched in amusement as Dorothy choked on her chocolate mousse. “You may both like to choose a little memento from the house –
I’m planning to rent it out while I’m on holiday.”
Stephanie watched the implication dawn on their faces. She could almost see Virginia’s mind working overtime.
“And don’t bother seeing the lawyer – it was his idea.”
Stephanie swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to leave, feeling almost sorry for them. She felt James’ presence. “Go on, say it! You know you’re dying to.”
Stephanie chuckled to herself and called out over her shoulder. “By the way, enjoy your desserts! You deserve them.”
‘ You may both like to choose a little memento’