Josephine was wearing a cream-coloured silk dress that fitted where it touched and, even though she had no skin on show other than her arms, it showed off every curve she was in possession of to its full advantage. She looked stunning and she knew it.
She had added cream leather high heels, and a thick black belt that emphasised her tiny waist to complete the outfit. Michael liked her to look good, because he loved showing her off. He was proud of her and appreciated how she looked after herself, and he especially loved it when she dressed herself up like this. There was no cleavage on show – just as he wanted it – nothing that could be seen as provocative, yet she looked sexier than if she was wearing a micro-mini skirt with thigh-high boots.
Her hair fell down her back; it was lightly curled and lacquered. It looked natural, even though it had taken her hours to perfect it. Her eye make-up was not too heavy, but she was wearing a deep wine-coloured lipstick as her only splash of dramatic colour, which finished off her whole look perfectly.
She was pleased to see the reactions from everyone at the party as she’d walked into the room with Michael. He wanted her to be noticed and she was more than happy to oblige. She loved getting dressed up, it was something she knew she was good at.
Michael handed her a glass of champagne, and she took it from him carefully. Michael was considered an important man, and she had to make sure that she was seen as worthy of his attention. After all, they were going to be married soon, and that fact alone guaranteed her respect from the people around them. Still, a man like Michael was seen as fair game by most of the women in their world, but she had sworn to herself that she would make sure that he never had any reason to look anywhere else for attention. She herself had seen the women who had married their men, had a few kids and then let themselves go, got fat and frumpy. They stopped wearing make-up and taking care of themselves. It was easy to let your guard down with a wedding ring on your finger and believe that having a man’s kids was enough to keep the man of your dreams beside you, loyal to you because you had produced their flesh and blood.
As if! It was the seventies, and the power of marriage was slowly being eroded. Divorce was no longer for the rich and famous, it was now becoming a part of everyday life. Josephine was determined that her Michael would always see her as the girl he had met and married, not as the woman he had tied himself to. She would not become a whining, overweight baby-maker who lost the knack of enjoying the life that was on offer. Those were the women she secretly despised. She believed she was too shrewd to fall for all that old fanny.
For now she intended to warn off any women who saw themselves as contenders for her position as Michael’s girl. If she had to fight them off physically, if that is what it took to keep him beside her, she would, though she hoped it never came to that. Instead, she was making a name for herself as a beauty, as a fashion plate, and she wanted everyone to remember how good she looked each time they saw her. She was going to make sure that nothing interfered with them or their lives together. Still, she’d be a fool not to be a bit intimidated by just how important he was becoming, and how his status would make him even more attractive to certain women. Her mum had made sure she understood the ways of their world. There were pug-ugly men who, without their status as hard nuts, would be hard pushed to pull a muscle – let alone anything else. She knew that a lot of those men had walked out on their families for the lure of youth. It was pathetic, but it was a fact of the life they lived with. But it was not going to happen to her. Michael loved her and, if she used her loaf, that would never change.
She gulped her champagne down quickly, suddenly gripped by a feeling of anxiety. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Calm again, she lapped up the attention, which served to remind Michael of just how good she was for him, and how wonderful their life together would be.
She saw Patrick’s wife Carmel beckoning her over; as usual she was surrounded by the other women at the party. Patrick’s wife was never alone. Carmel’s so-called ‘friends’ agreed with everything she said and waited for her to take the lead on all matters. It was almost embarrassing to watch at times. Carmel Costello loved being the queen bee, and she played the part to perfection. If she decided to dance, then they all danced. If she drank shots, they each followed suit. And if she decided that one of the girls had offended her in some way, they immediately became persona non grata to everyone, pushed out of her circle brutally and very publicly. Carmel Costello made her wishes very clear.