Chapter 5

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Through a haze of alcohol, Caitlin realised everyone was laughing at her. But it was not the drink that had made such a fool of her, it was her husband. So much for his promises - he had disappeared with that bloody Amanda. She should have kicked her out, bag and baggage, when she'd had the chance.

Maybe it was not too late. Before she changed her mind, Caitlin put down her champagne glass and staggered across the dance floor. Weaving in and out of equally inebriated couples, she eventually made it to the hallway. She narrowly missed colliding with Lord and Lady Richmond (who were having an argument over who had last seen their daughter Belinda) and headed for her bedroom on the second floor. She had no idea what she was going to say when she finally found Hugh and Amanda, but had the idea that it was going to start, "Now listen, you bastard ... " Solemnly she practised it a few times before throwing open the bedroom door.

The door swung back, slamming so hard against the wall the bare floorboards trembled beneath her feet. The room was in darkness; unusual, for Hugh was certainly not shy. Caitlin clicked on the electric lights. The four-poster was empty and so was the bedroom. For a moment she remained in the corridor, unable to believe her eyes. She was so sure she was going to encounter an action-replay of this afternoon, it was almost disappointing to find the room completely deserted.

Caitlin swayed across the threshold and sat miserably on the bed. "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?"

Really, there were not that many places for a fornicating couple to hide. Caitlin hitched up the petticoats of her gown, then the quilt cover, and bent double to peer beneath the bed. Nope, not under there either.

As the alcohol began to clear she realised she was right beside Hugh's enormous wardrobe. "Ah hah!" she cried, "Gotcha!" and pulled open the door.

The wardrobe was empty, save for Hugh's precious designer suits. Idly Caitlin flicked through them. She had not realised he had so many. There were dozens. They must be worth a fortune.

So this was where all their money went ...

A gleam of an idea began to form. She zigzagged across to the chest of drawers beside the bed, collected a pair of scissors and zigzagged back, snipping at the air experimentally. The perfect revenge for the rejected wife. But she was not going to cut off the sleeves. Oh no, that was far too easy to fix. Caitlin grabbed the first pair of trousers to hand and began to hack out the crotch.

After massacring the trousers she started on the jackets and shirts, neatly clipping out large round holes where the nipples would be. Not satisfied with that, she used bright red lipstick to draw little flowers around the holes. Half an hour later and Hugh's suits resembled the costumes for a strip joint.

Taking the scissors and a handful of fresh lipsticks, Caitlin staggered out the door, into the corridor and along a few doors to Amanda's room, which overlooked the front of the house.

Hugh allowed his employees to decorate their quarters in any way they wished, provided they paid for the materials, the work was done professionally and the colour scheme was tasteful. Most of the staff could not be bothered but Amanda, boosted by the allowance from her wealthy father, had transformed her room until it resembled something from Arabian Nights.

It was white throughout. Amanda had draped muslin over the windows and from the ceiling to form curtains around the bed. There were posters from old black and white movies on the walls, white fairy lights entwined around the bed and lots of coloured glass bottles jammed with candles, which had half-dripped wax down the sides. With all the muslin, Caitlin decided it was a miracle the room had not gone up in flames long ago.

Again Caitlin had theatrically thrown open the door but did not really expect to discover the happy couple. She peered under the bed to check but there was nothing - only suitcases - and they were empty too. Obviously Amanda had no intention of leaving.

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