Louise Marley - Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

March

The day Caitlin learnt she was pregnant, her husband Hugh cracked open a bottle of champagne. Not supermarket plonk but the very best vintage, stored for posterity in the cellars of his family's hotel. Caitlin would have been impressed - if she had not discovered him, twenty minutes later, pouring it over his half-naked mistress.

Caitlin had known something was up as soon as she returned from her doctor's appointment. Her staff were unusually pleasant, keen to discuss the arrangements for Hugh's birthday party that evening, but vague as to his actual whereabouts. So she was not at all surprised to find him in bed with another woman.

After all, it could have been worse. It could have been another man.

Amanda de Havilland lay across Caitlin's four-poster bed, her dress casually rucked down to her hips, her blonde hair framing her face like an undeserved halo. "Be careful, Hugh!" she giggled, as he shook up the bottle once more. "I'll drown!"

"Funny," said Caitlin acidly, "I always thought silicone floated."

Amanda sat up and shrieked, pulling the bed sheets protectively against her. Despite the perfect DD breasts, she looked like a schoolgirl in her pale pink dress. All that was missing were the pigtails and lollipop. Caitlin wondered if Amanda had dressed that way on purpose. Everyone knew Hugh liked his women young. Which was why he had married her.