A Budding Romance

by Bella Osborne

  ‘Most men are like that too. There aren’t many Hudsons around.’ They both sighed. ‘You need to get out there and find yourself a non-gay Hudson.’

  ‘It’s not that easy when you’re handling more baggage than Heathrow on a bank holiday.’

  ‘We all have baggage, Anna. You need to find someone you trust enough to help you unpack.’ Sophie’s attention was drawn to the children. ‘Arlo! What are you doing?’

  ‘Watering the wildflowers,’ came his giggled reply.

  ‘Why does he think the world is his urinal?’

  Another evening stretched before Anna. She’d enjoyed her afternoon in the park with Sophie and the kids. Although Sophie hadn’t totally understood her issues, she had helped her see things from a different perspective and she’d learned the names of more wildflowers than she ever knew existed. After her chaotic, but fun, afternoon, tonight Anna was particularly lonely. Curled up on the sofa with Maurice she stared into space and stroked him absent-mindedly. Maurice was so chilled out he looked drunk but then it occurred to Anna he was basically getting an all-over body massage and they made her zone out too.

  Perhaps it was the contrast after being surrounded by people for a couple of days making her feel alone. It was silly but she was enjoying her fake relationship with Hudson. She liked him as a person but the fake relationship was like a shield, protecting her from her own mutinous thoughts about taking Liam back. Liam had caught her off-guard when he’d told her he still loved her but now he thought Hudson was on the scene hopefully he’d keep a respectful distance. Despite her desire to be a fiercely independent woman perhaps she was one of those people who needed someone else in their life. If that was the case, and it pained her to admit it, she needed to be very clear on what terms she would set out for future relationships. For now, a fake one with a gay man was more than enough.

  She checked the television and when a documentary about people falling from holiday balconies came up she quickly switched it over but found nothing interested her. She picked up her book and put it down again and wondered if twenty to nine really was too early to go to bed. The documentary picked at her thoughts. Pandora’s box of archived memories was not one Anna wanted to open. Once opened, even a fraction, a wisp of a memory could escape and rapidly snowball into an overwhelming avalanche of guilt, sadness and regret.

  Anna’s phone pinged and Maurice eyed it with disdain. ‘Could it be?’ she asked Maurice. Anna jiggled the mass of cat to one side as she reached for it. It was a message from her mystery man.

  Hi, A. Did your week get any better? C.

  She was smiling as she replied: Yeah, a bit. You know, when life gives you lemons … A.

  … pretend they’re hand grenades and lob them at whoever is pi**ing you off. C.

  Anna laughed out loud and Maurice jumped off her lap and exited via the open window. ‘Sorry, Maurice,’ she called after him.

  Not for the first time she wondered who C really was. Could it be someone she knew, as Sophie had suggested? There had been no texts while she’d been away on the team-building event, which made her think Liam, Hudson and Karl could all be possibilities. She shook the thoughts from her mind. Nonsense. It was just a random stranger – and a nice one too. She’d heard all the warnings but for someone to bother to keep in touch they must have benevolence at their core. She liked the mystery of who it might be. Perhaps someone like her – a little bit adrift in life, searching for an anchor.

  She picked up the phone and started typing: How’s the new car? A.

  Car is excellent. Been driving Mum round all day. C.

  She was quite surprised he’d admitted that but she really liked that he had. If a man cared for their parents it was always a good sign in her book. Especially as she was close to hers – not everyone understood the bond she had. It had puzzled Liam a few times; in fact she’d thought, on occasion, he’d actually been a bit jealous of their relationship.

  She typed: That’s nice, and then deleted it. Nice – she couldn’t say nice. She tried again: I bet she really appreciates it. A. She pressed send.

  It’s the least I can do after all she’s done for me and my sister. C.

  Are you a mummy’s boy? ;-) A. She put the winking face because she didn’t want to offend him. They’d been messaging for a while now so it seemed okay to tease him a little. She had to wait for the reply.

  Totally! Have a good night. C.

  You too. A. She was a little disappointed that he’d ended the conversation so quickly.

  It was an odd thing to be exchanging messages with someone she didn’t know but he was starting to feel less of a stranger. She tapped out another message.

  Maybe it’s time we got on to first-name terms? I’m Anna. She reread it before pressing the send button. It was only her first name; he could hardly trace her from that alone. She wasn’t totally irresponsible.

  Her phone pinged back a text: Hi, Anna, nice to meet you. I’m Connor :-)

  Now she had a name to go with the texts and a picture started to develop further in her mind. She tried to picture someone who didn’t look like Ryan Gosling and she got Hudson Jones so she stopped trying. Connor. She liked the name and she was starting to like the idea of him a little bit too because a relationship by text was also a safe one.

  Sophie had finally got the children to bed – technically they had just stopped climbing out of bed, which didn’t mean they were asleep, but she was still counting it as a victory. She flopped onto the sofa, her face a shade of pink bordering on fuchsia and glowing with a sheen of sweat. Dave was playing his latest war game on the telly. Sophie watched it for a bit; bullets rained down on some sinister unshaven character. She let out a deep sigh and mentally prepared a list of things she still had to do. She decided she’d tackle the ironing first before it completely engulfed the utility room and they all had to go naked. She shut her eyes for a moment.

  ‘Mummy. I need a drink!’ called Arlo from upstairs. Sophie didn’t move. She opened one eye to see Dave’s reaction. Arlo called again. At last Dave speed-glanced in her direction, his thumbs still launching an onscreen attack.

  ‘You okay?’ he said, his eyes now back on the screen.

  She studied him. His mid-brown hair was in need of a cut. His work shirt was open at the collar and his tie hung loose around it.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said. It was more than that but she couldn’t put it into words.

  ‘You want me to get Arlo a drink?’ asked Dave.

  Why did he have to ask her? Why couldn’t he just go and get it? She needed him to take the responsibility away from her sometimes. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Okay. Just let me finish this level.’

  Sophie blinked. He was unbelievable. She waited for a moment and Dave continued to play. She silently stood up, got a beaker of water from the kitchen and went to settle Arlo. Afterwards she would take her frustration out on the ironing. She didn’t expect to hear anything further from Dave.

  Next morning Sophie feared she was going to be late for work. She’d slept through her alarm and overlooked Dave waking her up twice. She was exhausted. It was partly due to the team event, and the sort-out of the whole house that had followed but mainly it was the pregnancy. Each time she was pregnant she went through periods of extreme tiredness, where she could easily sit down wherever she was and go straight to sleep. When she was pregnant with Arlo she’d fallen asleep trying on shoes in Sainsbury’s. Today was going to be one of those days. She’d almost nodded off in the shower.

  She halted in the doorway and surveyed the kitchen. She had left it clean and tidy – pristine white cupboards had been washed down, the worktops had gleamed and the slate floor had been scrubbed and disinfected. Today it should have come with a warning and probably a welder’s helmet and some industrial ear protectors.

  Sophie believed a special circle of hell should be reserved for parents who put kazoos in party bags. Arlo was simultaneously playing a kazoo whilst tipping up a large container whooshin
g milk into an empty bowl, although his cereal was liberally scattered across the worktop and she heard it crunch underfoot, as a harassed Dave frantically searched the room for something whilst his coffee sloshed out of his travel cup. He was also trying to shrug his shoulder into his suit jacket. Petal was shouting happily in her high chair as she mashed a banana into oblivion, and Sophie watched as Petal studied the resulting goo on her chubby hands. Apparently she’d decided it would make excellent hair gel and started running it through her fine baby hair, making it stick up like she’d encountered a high voltage. Sophie took a deep breath and went in.

  ‘Stoooooop!’ she yelled and Petal’s bottom lip started to wobble. Sophie quickly sponged her hands clean and released her from the high chair. ‘I am not sorting this out.’ She glared at Dave in challenge.

  ‘I’ll sort it when I get home,’ said Dave, giving her a furtive glance. He pulled a folder from under Arlo’s Lego box and headed for the door.

  ‘No, Dave. I need to leave now and I’m not facing a shizzel tip like this again. The thought of it’ll wind me up all day.’

  ‘But I have to go too.’ He checked the kitchen clock.

  Sophie shook her head. It was time she made a stand. ‘I’m leaving now. This needs clearing up. The stuff from last night’s bolognaise needs to go in the dishwasher, your daughter needs taking to nursery and your son needs to be dropped off at school.’

  Dave opened and closed his mouth and she pictured ramming a Peppa Pig sock in there. Maybe Petal had thought the same. Sophie didn’t wait for him to reply. She thrust Petal into his arms, crunched across the cereal-strewn floor and out to freedom. It felt surprisingly good.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anna found herself in one of those meetings where despite a couple of emails and an agenda, you’re still not entirely sure why you’re there. Hudson had very smartly ducked out of this one saying they didn’t both need to attend. As the meeting progressed she began to wonder why any of them were there. She checked her watch and glanced over at Sophie who, every so often, seemed to be ticking something off on the pad on her lap. Sophie angled the page for Anna to see she was playing Bullshit Bingo and only needed ‘Moving goal posts’ and ‘Circle back’ for a full house.

  Anna shook her head and tried to tune back in to the meeting. ‘Can I raise one point? We don’t want to reinvent the wheel here,’ said Roberta, and a slightly indiscreet fist pump from Karl told her he’d beaten Sophie to the Bullshit Bingo full house. This proved to be the high point of the meeting. Another hour of my life I’m never getting back, thought Anna. After the meeting Sophie beckoned for Anna and Karl to stay in the room.

  Sophie turned to Karl. ‘I wanted you to know before I tell everyone else – I’m pregnant.’ She said it like she was breaking bad news.

  ‘Shit, is it mine?’ asked Karl, his face serious. Anna’s eyebrows darted up involuntarily.

  ‘Karl. Stop being an idiot,’ said Sophie. She shook her head at Anna to indicate there was never any possibility of this.

  ‘Sure?’ said Karl, giving a thinking pout. ‘Because I’m pretty potent, you know. Rubbing up against me in a lift could be all it takes.’

  ‘I think you’re okay. I won’t be after you for maintenance.’

  ‘Anyway. Congratulations on not being fat,’ he said, opening his arms for a faux hug and air kiss. ‘I was wondering how Dave got you into bed but I bet it’s a piece of cake.’ He mimed chomping on a slice of cake and luring Sophie with it. She thumped him, but she was smiling.

  ‘I’m going to tell Roberta and I thought I’d also float the idea of a different working hours pattern when I come back after maternity leave. I want to do five days in four. Do you think it’s doable?’ Sophie was looking between Karl and Anna.

  Anna was pulling a face. These sorts of things always seemed like a good idea on paper but often the person ended up doing more hours overall because nobody else could get their head around when they were and weren’t working. ‘You’d need to be really strict about your day off but I think it’s workable in a role like yours,’ she said.

  Karl seemed to ponder the question for longer. ‘Five days of bugger all in four seems very doable to me.’

  ‘Aerosol,’ said Sophie.

  ‘Doesn’t Steph in the product team do something similar?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Yes. Have you noticed she’s lost loads of weight?’ said Sophie, with admiration.

  ‘Really?’ queried Karl. ‘She still has an arse like a pair of space hoppers.’

  ‘You are such a snarky cow,’ said Sophie, getting up to leave.

  ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,’ said Karl, wiping away an imaginary tear and following her.

  Roberta was ranting her way through the office and they all stood back out of the way. Priya was following in her wake, trying to write on a pad and keep up with a furious-looking Roberta at the same time.

  ‘She makes an impact doesn’t she?’ said Anna, observing everyone in the open office trying to shrink as Roberta passed.

  ‘Yeah, like a fly on a windscreen,’ said Karl.

  Sophie swallowed hard. ‘Perhaps I’ll catch her later.’ They all hurried in the opposite direction.

  Almost before Sophie had opened her front door she could smell it – the overwhelming stink of garlic. What on earth had Dave been cooking? Then she laughed at herself because when did Dave ever cook? She became like a demented sniffer dog trying to identify the source of the stench. It was a difficult task because the whole house reeked of the stuff. A few steps upstairs told her she was heading in the wrong direction and like the child catcher she turned and crept back downstairs sniffing the air as she tried to follow the garlic trail. Entering the kitchen, it became apparent she was nearing the end of her quest. The pong level had shot past maximum and was off the scale. She held her nose as she rummaged in cupboards and drawers.

  At last she flung open the dishwasher, which gave a final killer blow to her nostrils. It started to make her eyes water too. This was the problem. Sophie held her breath and rummaged at high speed until she found the garlic press. She opened it a fraction to reveal the remains of at least two plump garlic cloves that Dave had omitted to remove before merrily chucking the press in the dishwasher where it had been liberally jet washed with hot water. She ran to the back door, turned the key and flung the whole thing into the garden. She took a lungful of fresh air.

  ‘Fudging, bollarding, Arsene Wenger, Dave, you total bumfuzzle!’ She felt better for the tirade.

  ‘Hello?’ said a tentative female voice from the other side of the fence.

  Frigging brilliant, thought Sophie. Now was exactly the moment she didn’t want to meet the new neighbours.

  Anna spent the evening working on her laptop and was about to turn in when her phone flashed up a text. It was Sophie and she needed to vent so Anna called her.

  ‘You won’t believe what he’s done now?’

  Anna didn’t need to ask who; Sophie reserved a special tone for all things Dave-cock-up-related. ‘Go, on.’

  ‘He had one thing to do today. One thing. He had to take his children to nursery and school. That was it. And did he manage it?’

  ‘I’m guessing not.’

  ‘You guessed right. Because this is mother puffin Dave we’re talking about. Arlo has just informed me that Daddy took them to work today. Took them to work! And what’s more because Petal fell asleep and he’d let Arlo play on his iPad they were both quiet so he didn’t realise until the car alarm went off, with my kids inside!’

  It was difficult to know what to say. ‘Good job he has a car alarm.’

  ‘Exactly, although their poor eardrums. I only found out because Arlo came home with a slip from school saying he’d been complaining of a headache.’

  ‘Do you want me to come round?’ Anna shuffled upright on the sofa. She could do with someone to talk to.

  ‘No, the place smells like a garlic canning factory but that’s another story. But
thank you. I feel better already having had a rant.’

  ‘It’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ said Sophie. ‘No, Arlo, you can’t sleep in your pirate costume …’ The phone disconnected.

  ‘Night,’ said Anna anyway and put the phone down next to her.

  Anna’s phone pinged with another text and she snatched it up. She tried to ignore the little bubble of unease at how keen she was to see if the message was from Connor. She was starting to really enjoy their brief exchanges. It was a little man fix without all the other complications. She was quite disappointed to see the message was from Dave.

  Any ideas for Sophe’s birthday?

  It’s in 2 days. Please tell me you have something planned. A x.

  Nope. I was thinking perfume?

  He was a lovely guy but he really was a grade A numpty. Here was an ideal opportunity to shine and what would he do? He would buy her whatever the John Lewis fragrance counter assistant recommended – as usual – and Sophie would add it to the ever-growing collection of perfumes she didn’t wear, a collection that was already taking over the bathroom cabinet. Anna knew Sophie was a Dior girl, which was unlikely to change. She texted back.

  If you get perfume only get Dior. She really wants an Orla Kiely washbag, so that could be a nice surprise. Or I could babysit while you two have a date night?

  Anna winced a little when she pressed send. She really hoped he went for the washbag because those kids were full-on and an evening alone with them always filled her with terror.

  You’re a star. Date night it is.

  ‘Bugger,’ said Anna, out loud.

  Is it the pink Dior she likes?

  NO. It’s J’adore. The one in the slinky bottle.

  Got it. Ta

  Anna had bought gifts for Sophie weeks ago and they were wrapped and labelled, ready for her birthday. She had two days to gird her loins ready for babysitting. She really was an excellent friend.

  Sophie’s birthday dawned and she was thankful it was a weekend. At least she didn’t have to get dressed if she didn’t want to. She was woken by the sound of something smashing downstairs and she groaned into consciousness. ‘You all right?’ she hollered.