The Watchful Neighbour - Debbie Viggiano Page 0,92
the scene. Deanna later deduced that, at this point, her husband had become a master at deception.
And then she’d discovered those condoms.
‘I’m going to ask you one more time,’ Dee said, glaring at Tom. ‘Who is she?’
‘Darling, please. There is nothing to be gained by telling you.’
‘Then we’re finished.’
‘No, Dee-Dee,’ Tom had cried. ‘I beg you. Don’t leave me.’
‘I need time to think things through,’ she’d replied. ‘If nothing else, at least a temporary separation.’
Tom had blubbed like a little girl. ‘If that’s what it takes,’ he’d wept. ‘I’ll do anything to save our marriage.’
‘Anything?’
‘Yes,’ he’d nodded frantically.
‘Then tell me her name.’
‘Anything apart from that,’ he’d countered.
Deanna had packed her bags and left. A piece of her had wanted to test Tom. To see if he would then move the other woman in.
Weeks had passed. Tom had rattled around the marital home alone. No mistress had arrived with her suitcases.
Deanna had been on the threshold of caving in and returning until, quite by chance, she’d had a chat with someone who was a friend of a friend of someone that worked at Harrison & Peters. It was during that conversation that Deanna had been given the tip off about the other woman’s identity.
And it had changed everything.
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Parker Estates was a lettings and estate agency that had been set up by Deanna’s father five decades previously.
In the early years of marriage to Tom, Deanna had worked as a negotiator. Once the boys had come along Mr Parker had, for tax reasons, made his daughter a sleeping partner. Deanna had enjoyed drawing a dividend which gave her some financial independence from Tom who, she’d soon discovered, could be quite controlling about money.
Despite mostly investing her energies as a wife and then mother to Scott and Daniel, Deanna had periodically dipped in and out of the family business. Before the twins had started school, she’d only worked at the office when someone had wanted to take annual leave or been off sick. Once the boys were in full-time primary education, she’d gone in more frequently, arriving soon after the morning school run and then disappearing for the half-past-three collection.
When Deanna had angrily told Tom she wanted a temporary separation, she’d initially stayed in one of the properties registered with Parker Estates. The landlord had been a long-time family friend of the Parker family. He was renovating a new investment and wanted someone trustworthy staying at the premises for security reasons.
The landlord had been happy for Deanna to live there rent-free while she sorted out her private life. The only thing he asked was that she let in the workmen, lock up after them, and report any problems.
As a result of being estranged from Tom, Deanna had found herself with more time on her hands. Consequently, she’d spent longer hours at the office. Staff had been too tactful to ask questions, but as the weight rapidly dropped from Deanna’s frame, they’d deduced their founder’s daughter was on the Heartbreak Diet.
Like any woman going through a traumatic situation, Deanna underwent a shedding process. Once she’d been a busy mother and wife. Now she felt redundant. Her identity had abruptly changed. Who was she now?
It was a shock when a client unexpectedly complimented Deanna on her “beautiful eyes”. Stunned, she’d later lifted her long hair away from her cheeks to study the naturally long eyelashes framing amber-flecked irises. As she’d done so, she’d been surprised to note that her face was no longer round but heart shaped. The double chin had disappeared. Now there were cheekbones and a jawline.
The following day Deanna had walked into a hair salon and instructed the stylist to give her a platinum-blonde crop.
‘The Big Chop,’ the stylist had joked. ‘Have you recently been dumped?’
Deanna had glared at the woman. ‘Let me be clear. I’m the one who has done the dumping, okay?’
The result had been both shocking and stunning. Up until that moment, Deanna had felt like she’d been dealing with an endless internal struggle. But when she’d stared at her reflection in the salon’s mirror, suddenly she’d felt liberated. She was starting over. Moving on.
‘If you don’t mind me saying’ – the stylist had cautiously suggested – ‘dramatic hair requires dramatic make-up.’
Deanna’s next visit had been to a glossy make-up counter in a high-end store. She’d decided that from this point on red lipstick would be her style signature. She also chose to bin her married name. Good-bye, Deanna Harrison. Hello, Dee Parker.