C u @ 8

By Cindy Vine

Do your kids ever really leave?
Fenella Fisher and Suki Rabinowitz are middle-aged single mothers whose children have left home and started on their own lives and careers. But Suki’s son Josh is a cocaine-addict who supposedly fathered a baby on a visit to the UK; and Fenella’s daughter Kirsty has just been dumped and is feeling miserable. Fenella and Suki decide they need to step in to help their children and hatch a plan to sort out Josh’s mess and find Kirsty a suitable man, with some hilarious consequences. After interviewing prospective husbands for Kirsty at Waves Restaurant and Bar, they discover that a good man is hard to find. A fun, light-hearted read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cindy Vine
• Release date: Jun 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476046822

Cindy Vine

Born in Cape Town, South Africa, I have traveled to many different countries working as an international school teacher. Following a bout with breast cancer and being ripped off yet again, I wrote a self-help book called Fear, Phobias and frozen Feet, which deals with how to break the pattern of bad relationships in our lives. Last year, I self-published Stop the world, I need to pee! It's a fictional tale of how a headstrong woman manages to escape from an abusive husband. Currently, I am teaching at an international school in Tanzania. The Case of Billy B is my third book.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Migraines. To Fenella it felt as if a hot needle twisted and turned through the centre of her eye straight into her brain.

The pain was enough to make one throw up on the spot, Fenella thought bitterly as she covered the afflicted eye with one hand. She hated the damn things and was relieved she got only a few of them a year. Poor bastards who have brain tumours. Imagine experiencing this pain every hour of every day. You can rather put me down like a sick dog, she said to herself as she slowly lowered herself down onto her bed in her darkened room.

The last thing Fenella felt like was lunch with Suki. Suki would understand; she often got migraines herself. They’d been best friends since the age of two, playing together at the back of her mother’s dance studio. It wasn’t Suki’s company that was making her lean towards cancelling, but the idea of noise, the midday glare from the sun and the smell of food. She’d gagged when she’d brushed her teeth that morning which made her think of morning sickness. Brushing her teeth had been an ordeal throughout her three pregnancies. There was no way she could be pregnant unless some alien had come to visit her when she was fast asleep. At fifty she was far too old anyway. While she loved babies, it was always great to give them back to their mothers when they cried or messed themselves.

The migraine was throbbing away silently, clouding her brain and her thoughts, filling her head with pain. Fenella groaned. Any sudden movement brought on waves of nausea and dizziness. The Tramadol she’d taken probably made it a bit too risky to drive anyway. After taking one that morning it had knocked her out making her feel like a second-rate boxer on the losing end of a bout with the heavyweight champion of the world. Thirty minutes after swallowing the capsule she’d collapsed on her bed in a heap, barely having enough time to turn on the fan. She’d woken up feeling groggy, head still pounding, and popped another pill. Hopefully, it would kick in soon. Blasted migraine. What a way to spend the first day of the school holiday! On second thoughts, Suki would be mad if she cancelled. She hated any form of rejection and would probably take Fenella’s failure to show quite personally.

The phone rang, a jarring sound that made Fenella clench her teeth. She really needed to change that ringtone to something more pleasant. A favourite rock song from the eighties would be better. Caitlyn always threatened to change it but never seemed to get round to it. She never seemed to get round to tidying her bedroom or picking up after herself either. Caitlyn’s untidiness was a constant source of tension.

The house was quite peaceful with her away for the holidays. Caitlyn had never been able to do anything quietly. A door could never be shut; it always had to be slammed. She could never hum quietly to a song on her iPod; she had to always belt it out at the top of her lungs as if she was on stage in front of an audience of thousands. Studying drama was definitely the best career choice for her; she thrived on drama of all kinds. Took after her father. Fenella reached for the phone, praying that it was Suki cancelling their lunch date. It wasn’t. Kirsty’s, Hi Mom, reverberated in her ear.

Fenella had always thought she’d be lonely when her three children left the nest. Alex was overseas in America doing an internship at a hotel; Kirsty had worked in Asia for a few years and saved up enough money to buy her own house and Caitlyn, still studying, was more gone than she was home. However, they were all so good at keeping in contact that there was no time to feel lonely. In fact, on days like this with a mega-migraine pounding her brain, a little less contact would be good. Hey Kirsty, what’s up?

Are you okay? You sound a little down, Kirsty asked, her voice anxious.

Not down, just one of those God-awful migraines I sometimes get. First day of the holidays as well. Typical, eh? Just my rotten luck. Fenella massaged her forehead; maybe she needed a massage to make it go away. A couple of years ago she’d had to have an injection to get rid of a migraine. That one had lasted a whole week and she’d thought her head was going to explode. In retrospect this one wasn’t so bad. In fact, she was feeling a little better. Maybe she’d be able to make lunch with Suki after all.

If it gets worse you might need to see a doctor. I told you about Grant’s uncle, didn’t I?

The one that got a headache that turned into a brain tumour and he was dead by the end of the week. Just what I need to hear, Fenella thought dryly.

Month, Mom. He died after a month. You always exaggerate.

How is Grant? Kirsty’s off again, on again boyfriend. Fenella suspected that was what the phone call would be about. Kirsty seemed to think Fenella was some kind of a relationship guru, an oracle who could interpret all Grant’s words and actions. His ears must burn the amount of times his name was mentioned.

Grant has been behaving strangely. I don’t know what to read into it. Should I be worried? Here it comes, thought Fenella; Grant…Grant…Grant.

What’s he been doing this time? Fenella tried to feign interest. In her mind Grant was a typical commitment-phobic almost thirty-year old. He was no different to many others his age. In fact, if I had an over-analysing girlfriend, I’d also probably behave strangely myself she thought.

I can’t quite put my finger on it. He seems distant. Like when he visits he can’t wait to leave and then is cagey about where he’s going. You know I always have to stay over at his place; he never wants to stay over at mine. Grant was a neat-freak and Kirsty had more clothes on her floor than in the cupboard which was part of the problem. Her untidiness probably gave him hives. I made him his favourite meatballs for dinner last night, and he didn’t want to eat them. Said he wasn’t hungry and was tired and going to have an early night.

Maybe he had a heavy day at work. You have to stop reading so much into everything. You’re going to do your head in. Maybe he’d eaten already or didn’t feel like meatballs.

Mom, he always feels like meatballs. There’s something else. I just know it. Because I was chatting to Fred today and Fred said that he went over to Grant’s place last night and they played X-box until two in the morning!

You hate X-box.

I know Mom, but that’s not the point. He lied to me. Said he was tired and wanted an early night. How can I trust him if he lies to me?

Then end it with him. For good this time. Fenella was usually wary about giving advice. She’d learned the hard way not to say anything bad about Grant when Kirsty was angry with him, because then when things were good between her and Grant she’d throw what Fenella had said about him back at her. Fenella couldn’t win and it was best to agree or be non-committal. But with this migraine she couldn’t be bothered.

But I love him and do believe he loves me.

Fenella sighed. Has he told you he loves you? There was silence; Kirsty was obviously giving her reply a lot of thought.

Well…yes…sort of. Yes, he’s said he loves me. Not recently, but he has said it in the past.

Well that’s good then. Just give him a little space; maybe he has stuff going on at work.

He does actually. He has a new manager who is giving him a hard time and seems to dislike him. I can’t understand why because everybody likes Grant and he works so hard; long hours. Fenella could hear Kirsty mixing something in a bowl. She must be busy in the kitchen.

Are you in the kitchen?

Kirsty laughed. Yeah, making Grant’s favourite dessert. Maybe I can sweeten him up!

Fenella rubbed her temple. Have you ever thought that maybe you are trying too hard? Stop cooking for him. Let him do something for you for a change; let him chase you.

Mom, when you love someone you enjoy doing things for them. I learned that from you. Fenella could hear the blender get switched on and the noise made her grit her teeth. This migraine was no joke.

Well, learn from me then, don’t lose yourself in your relationship. Hang on to who you are and don’t change to make him happy. You need to be happy as well.

I am happy. Sometimes, Kirsty added as an afterthought. Often. When it’s good, it’s very, very good.

And when it’s bad?

I phone you. That’s what moms are for, Kirsty said with a giggle. Have you taken something for that migraine?

Chapter 2

Whoever said that when your children leave the house you stop worrying about them was lying. Fenella splashed cold water on her face. She did feel a little better, the Tramadol seemed to be kicking in at last, but now she could feel the worry collecting like coiled-up hibernating snakes in the pit of her belly. She was a born worrier; there was always something to worry about. Last week it had been the security guard who had walked into the kitchen when she was in the bathroom, and stole her Blackberry. At least she’d acted quickly, phoned the security company and they’d got it back that same night. But now every security guard warranted a second glance and there was always a chance the new one might break in. Fenella couldn’t believe it; it still shocked her, made her feel ill to her stomach. You paid good money for these people to protect you from criminals, yet they were criminals themselves. Thank God she had got the phone back. All those numbers; it would have been a pain to get hold of all of them again. Hopefully the house would be safe when she left it for lunch. Get a grip, Fenella, she admonished herself firmly. If only Kirsty could get herself a decent man I could quit worrying about her. Would be one thing to tick off my list of worries.

Talking to herself was a habit Fenella had developed over the years. Her children thought she was whacky. Fenella considered it perfectly normal behaviour. At least I make the time to discuss everything before making a decision, she often justified, Even if it is with myself. Despite pulling on the first thing that fell on her when she opened her wardrobe door, Fenella knew she had no chance of being on time for her lunch date. Murphy’s Law dictated that when you were in a hurry the slowest, oldest drivers would all decide to go for a drive at the same time, slowing down the traffic, clogging up the road. Suki hated waiting; she was going to be unimpressed. Something else to add onto the worry list, thought Fenella with a grim smile. That damn list never gets any shorter!

With the dull leftover dregs of the migraine still throbbing in her eye, Fenella braved the traffic and was pleasantly surprised to discover that all the slow drivers had decided to take a day off from driving. The roads were quite empty and Fenella made good time getting to the restaurant where Suki and she had agreed to meet. Fenella had never been there before; it was one Suki had stumbled upon when meeting up with another friend. She’d raved about the grilled calamari, great service and awesome view of the Indian Ocean. Apparently the owner wasn’t too bad either. Fenella pulled into an empty parking bay in front of the restaurant, narrowly missing a pair of joggers looking as if they were melting in the heat. Why people put themselves through the torture of running, Fenella had no idea. They never looked as if they were enjoying it; the expressions on their faces often showed excruciating pain. Definitely not smiley happy people. But, to each his own. Maybe there was a certain masochistic pleasure in running nowhere in the heat. She took a deep breath and sniffed in the sea air. Time to face the wrath of Suki Rabinowitz.

Suki was already seated at a table staring at her phone with a shocked expression on her face. Suki had never been one to shock easily; she’d been a wild teenager and her mother had always said the reason for her many grey hairs. If something had shocked Suki, Fenella reckoned it had to be something major. Hey, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen something incredibly nasty. Like your dead husband’s ghost, Fenella thought to herself. That definitely fitted into the category of things to think and not to say. It had taken Fenella most of her lifetime to learn not to blurt out the first thing that came into her mind. Fenella had never liked Shimon, Suki’s late husband. In her mind he’d never treated Suki with respect or valued her super-intelligent brain. He’d belittled her and over the years had turned her from an outgoing social butterfly into a doormat. The fact that he was an ultra-religious orthodox Jew hadn’t helped either, as Suki’s extravagant dress sense was replaced with sensible clothes, long skirts, long sleeves and a wig. But to her credit Suki had stuck it out, committed to her marriage until last year when Shimon had had a heart attack on the golf course. Suki had been sad but not devastated, and after the mourning period had shortened her skirts so that they barely covered her behind. Suki had always had a great pair of legs. The look on her face made Fenella feel uneasy. She hoped nothing had happened to one of Suki’s children.

Bizarre, I need a drink. We need a drink. Should we get a bottle of wine? Suki scanned the wine list.

Fenella thought about the migraine meds she’d taken earlier in the day. Alcohol would probably make her pass out at the lunch table. You go ahead Suki, but not for me. I’ve taken the strongest meds ever for this migraine. I’ll just stick to a soda water. So are you going to tell me why you have that look on your face?

Suki sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. You won’t believe this story. This one takes the cake. The problem is, is this just a story or the truth?

Fenella sat down. Joshua? It had to be. Suki’s eldest son was always causing some havoc or other. Fenella’s personal feeling was that he had rebelled against his strict orthodox childhood.

Why does Josh do these kinds of things? Where did we go wrong? Suki looked at Fenella and her eyes were welling with tears.

Fenella reached across the table and took her hand. What has he done now?

What hasn’t he done? Suki pushed her phone across the table to Fenella. Have a look at that text message. I received that one about a week ago. She says her name is Tracey Knowles and she lives in Cornwall. Apparently, according to her, Josh had an affair with her when he was over in the UK last year. Remember when he went over for that big wine deal he was working on when he still worked for that Wine Estate? Fenella nodded as she lifted up the phone to read the message.

She says she got pregnant?

Keep reading. She says she lost the baby. It never made it.

Fenella frowned. Is she wanting money from you? Suki had inherited a tidy sum from Shimon, ensuring that she never had to work another day in her life.

Nope. Read the next text. She’s independently wealthy. She doesn’t want money from me at all.

Then why…?

She wants to be a part of the family.

What does Josh…?

"Never seen her, never heard of her. He