Unspoken: A story of secrets, love and revenge by T. Belshaw (best reads of all time .TXT) 📗

Of course! Alisha and Jeremy’s wedding. Calvin was best man and his speech hadn’t raised more than one or two laughs although he’d spent a month working on it. Jeremy had said, ‘never mind Calv, you can’t be good at everything.’ It had really hit home. His confidence, which normally bordered on arrogance, was shot to pieces. He had been in exactly the same mood tonight. Aloof, cold, then in desperate need of reassurance. She wondered what could possibly have happened to have shaken him so badly. It must have been this incident at work. Maybe he couldn’t fix the problem but someone junior to him had. That wouldn’t have gone down well at all, and if it had been jokingly remarked upon by his colleagues, it would have made it worse, much worse.

Jess decided she has solved the issue. She knew how to bring him out of it too, at least for tonight. It would have to be compliments all the way followed by as much sex as she could manage.

After dinner, which Jess said had been the best he had ever served up, they watched TV for a while, then she cuddled up to him and whispered, ‘how about an early night?’

Calvin stretched, yawned and said he was going to sleep alone as he was tired, stressed, and needed a solid night’s sleep and probably a lie-in tomorrow morning.

He gave Jess a perfunctory kiss on the top of her head, stretched his arms again and went through to the spare room.

Chapter 14

Jess

Jess got up at seven on Saturday morning, but Calvin was nowhere to be seen. The door to the spare bedroom was open and the bed had been made. She checked the cupboard at the bottom of the stairs, there were no golf clubs.

Jess wasn’t too concerned. Calvin often spent his time on the golf course working out things that were troubling him.

She gave the flat a quick going over with the cordless vacuum and dusted in the lounge and bedroom. She was about to start on the bathroom when her phone rang. It was Calvin.

‘Hi, Jess. I’m not going to get away from here for hours yet. I’m in a four ball and we’re stuck behind the slowest pair I’ve ever come across. I’m in the last sixteen of the club stroke-play this afternoon so I doubt I’ll be back until five-ish.’

‘That’s okay. Thanks for letting me know, Calvin,’ Jess replied.

‘Erm, that’s not the reason I called,’ said Calvin, quickly. ‘Could you run an iron over my best white shirt and check my navy suit for creases? I don’t want to look a slob tonight. Oh, and give my brown Chelsea boots a rub over while you’re at it? Right, got to go, it’s my shot.’

Jess threw her phone onto the sofa and swore at it. Then she went back to the bathroom and scrubbed the bath and sink to within an inch of their lives.

After lunch, Jess read her Writing Magazine for an hour and then opened up the laptop and resumed the article about pollution levels and its effect on children’s health that she had been commissioned to write by Environment UK, magazine. The research was tedious, but it was an important topic and she was fully onboard with the ethics of the magazine. The article wasn’t due to be sent until the following Friday but she liked to be in front with things.

At four, she made coffee and grabbed a cheese sandwich then, with a sigh, dragged the ironing board and steam iron out of the cupboard and set about Calvin’s shirt. When that had been draped over a hanger and hung back up in his wardrobe, she brushed down his suit and checked the boots. They were perfectly clean, so she just waved his can of spray polish at them and put them back on his shoe rack amongst the dozen pairs of shoes. ‘Shh,’ she said to the boots. ‘Don’t let on.’

I always thought shoes were a woman thing, she thought. She only owned six pairs herself, if you didn’t count the trainers. She didn’t bother choosing a tie for him. Whichever one she went for he’d select a different one anyway.

Calvin arrived home at five-thirty, just as Jess was settling into the bath. He sat on the toilet seat and grinned.

‘Guess who’s in the last eight of the stroke-play?’

Jess tried to hide her annoyance at being disturbed. Bath time was meant to be a solo pleasure.

‘Hmm, let me think,’ she played along. ‘YOU!’ she cried out. ‘Well done! When are the quarter finals? Is it the quarter finals next?’

Calvin nodded vigorously. ‘It is, and I’ve only gone and drawn Liam Watt, remember him? The guy who ruined my chance at getting a par round last week. I’ll show the rotten sod. He’s only a twenty-four handicapper so I’ll have to give him a fair few shots advantage, but I can wipe the floor with him still, and I WILL!’ he shouted triumphantly.

Jess didn’t understand the intricacies of the golf club rules but she clapped anyway. Her reaction did the trick and he left the bathroom swinging an imaginary golf club.

‘I’ve ironed your shirt and checked the suit,’ she called after him.

‘Thanks,’ he called back, ‘but I’ll give it a once over myself anyway. I’ve got time.’

Jess flicked a soapy V sign at the bathroom door and slid down into the bubbles.

‘I hope you lose your little balls,’ she said.

After her bath, Jess dried her hair and brushed her curls while Calvin had a shower. She applied her make-up with a mirror propped up on the dining room table as he pampered himself with body spray and post-shave balm. She had time to slip into her favourite black dress, hold up stockings and heels before he came out of the bathroom.

He snuggled up behind her and nuzzled into her neck.

‘No scent?’ he asked.

‘I wasn’t going to bother,’ she lied.

‘You must,’ he said. ‘You’re never fully dressed without perfume.’

Jess