by Frances Pye
“You’re in.”
Jules nodded. “I’m in. Mara was so upset yesterday I didn’t want to say anything, but I definitely want to…um…share Sean.” Jules hadn’t even had to think about the idea. Sperm was what she wanted and sperm she was going to get.
“Share Sean. I like the sound of that. It’s almost poetic.”
“You haven’t changed your mind?”
“Hell, no. I was expecting you.” Lily grinned as the doorbell rang. “And there’s our other sharer.”
She padded away down the corridor and in a couple of minutes was back with Terry. She handed her a glass of wine and said, “You look terrible. Been up all night trying to decide what to do?”
“Waiting for Paul, more like. You won’t believe this. He was out until four in the morning. Four. And when I asked him where he’d been he said it was none of my business, didn’t he? Well, actually he said, ‘Get a fucking life.’ I can’t cope with this much longer.”
“So you need Sean?”
“I need something. And Sean’s the best idea anyone’s come up with yet.” Sitting at home the night before, waiting for her son, having called the police and the hospitals, Terry had struggled to decide what to do about Lily’s idea. Part of her was very, very tempted, but at the same time something inside her shied away from the notion of them all parceling Sean out as if he were a wheel of cheese. But when Paul finally returned, swore at her, and slammed himself into his room, she had managed to force her concerns to the back of her mind. Paul and her need to rescue her disintegrating relationship with him had to come first. “Count me in.”
“Okay. That’s three of us.”
“I think we have to forget Mara, at least for now,” Jules said.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it to her. Only I’d hoped she’d see reason for once.”
“Poor Mara. What are we going to do? Her obsession with Jake is ruining her life,” Terry said.
“We could tell her the truth,” Lily suggested.
“No way!”
“It would destroy her.”
“Then, what? I don’t think we should just give up. Sean would be the perfect first step for her.”
“Possibly we can persuade her later? When she’s more used to the idea?” Jules suggested.
“Yeah. When she’s seen how well it’s working for us.”
“If it does.” Terry was going ahead, but she wasn’t stupid. She could see potential problems everywhere.
“Pessimist. It’ll work fine. I guarantee it.”
“Hmm. We’ll hold you to that.”
“What I don’t see is how you’re going to set it up. What are you going to say to Sean? He wants you, not us,” Jules asked.
“Well, for a start, I’m not going to tell him we’ve talked about this. It needs to seem spontaneous, almost as if he’s thought of it himself. But first, I’ve got to get myself back with him….”
Two
sixteen
Sean closed the job specs he had been working on, leaned back in his chair, and moved his head from side to side in an attempt to loosen his board-stiff neck muscles. It felt as if he’d been in front of the computer screen for days.
He got up, strolled across his plain, functional office, and looked out of the window at the quiet, shadowy yard beneath. At the trucks parked for the night, at the shrouded piles of lumber, sand, and gravel ready to go out the following day. At the neon chip shops and off licenses and darkened funeral homes of Askew Road.
Everyone had gone. Everyone but him. He had been spending more and more time at the office since the split with Lily; at least when he was concentrating on work, he wasn’t thinking of her and alternately regretting losing her then railing against her selfishness. He glanced at his watch, saw that it was almost ten o’clock. He supposed he should leave too. If he was going to feel sorry for himself, he’d prefer to do it lying on a sofa with a beer in his hand.
Sean picked up the keys to the office, grabbed his cigarettes from next to the computer and his leather jacket from the back of his chair, and was about to walk out when his mobile phone rang. He looked at the display to see who was calling but the number had been withheld. He pressed the button and held the phone to his ear. “Sean Grainger.”
“Sean. It’s Lily.”
Sean tensed at the familiar voice. God, she sounded good. For a second, he was elated. She’d called him. She must want him back. Then, anger took over. The anger that had been accumulating ever since he’d sat in that hideous trendy restaurant and listened to her dismiss his feelings. The anger he’d nurtured through many a long night, the anger that he still used as a painkiller. “Fuck you,” he said, and disconnected her.
Almost immediately, the mobile rang again. Sean didn’t answer and the rings went on and on, seemingly forever, until finally his voice mail picked up. He slumped in relief. He’d resisted the temptation to talk to her. Then, the phone rang again. And again. He reached for it, was about to answer, then, in a last, desperate attempt to stop himself, threw it across the room. The ringing stopped. Silence. Another moment and he’d not have been able to stand it. He’d have forgotten his hurt, rolled over onto his back with his paws in the air, and answered. He thought for a second about calling her back and dismissed the idea, horrified by his lack of pride. All this would pass. Soon, he’d be fine. Lily would be a memory. The ending would fade and he’d be able to think back on the good parts and smile….
Lily was curled up in her den, her phone in her hand. She’d expected Sean to be angry, hurt, even furious, but she’d never thought he’d refuse to talk to her. In her ear, his voice-mail announcement ended and she hung up without saying anything. What would be the point? She needed to speak to him, talk him around, not leave an easy-to-ignore message. Maybe it was time to quit, make another attempt in the morning, but Lily hated admitting defeat. She decided on one more try and hit redial.
Hoping that Lily had now given up, Sean walked across his office to pick up the tiny mobile lying in the corner of the room. Halfway there, it started to ring again. He raced over, grabbed the phone, and pressed the button to answer.
“Please don’t hang up,” Lily said quickly.
“I should.”
“Don’t. Please. Just let’s talk for a moment.”
Sean struggled with himself. And lost. “What do you want, Lily?”
“I want to say I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“For the restaurant. I was too hard, too tough.”
“Yes. You were.”
“But that’s cos I didn’t want to say good-bye.”
“It was your choice, not mine.”
“I know. But I’ve missed you.”
Some warmth crept into Sean’s voice. “Have you?”
“Yes. A lot. More than I imagined. Much more.”
“That’s…good to hear.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“And how about you?”
“What about me?”
“Sean! You’re driving me crazy. Have you missed me? Have you missed me?”
“Of course I’ve fucking missed you, idiot.”
Lily laughed. “Maybe I deserved that.”
“Maybe you did.”
“So are we pals again?”
“Yes. Pals.”
“Then can we see each other?”
“Maybe.”
“Only maybe?”
“Lily, are you asking to be my friend? Or my lover?”
“Lover, please.”
Sean couldn’t help smiling at her words. There was no one like Lily for saying what she meant. “And as we’re being so honest with each other, just so I get it right, are we talking about two or three nights a week here? No commitment, just fun?”
“Yes.”
“Lily, I don’t think—”
“Come on. We got on well, didn’t we? Had fun? Enjoyed each other? Missed it when we stopped? Let’s forget all that stuff in the restaurant,
pretend we never went there, that none of that was said. You’ll be happy, I know you will. I’ll make you happy. So happy you won’t have the energy to want more.”
“That happy, huh?”
“Yup.”
Sean was sorely tempted. He was desperate for Lily, but if he said yes, he was setting himself up to be hurt again. Because he was sure to want more from her than two or three nights. On the other hand, he’d been miserable without her. And why should he deny himself something he wanted just because he knew he wasn’t going to get as much of it as he’d like? Did that make any sense? Don’t eat one chocolate because you can’t have the whole box?
At least this time he was walking into things with his eyes open. No illusions. No lingering dreams of domestic bliss. After that speech in the Greek restaurant—which he would never forget, even though Lily suggested he should—he knew exactly where he stood with her. And if two nights were all he could have, well, two nights with Lily would be better than seven with anyone else.
“Doing anything tomorrow night?” Sean asked.
THE SOHO bar was heaving with people, the Thursday night, it’s-almost-the-weekend crowd spilling out onto the pavement outside, clutching their ice-frosted glasses, looking for some relief from the summer heat. Terry and Jules, the former in a frothy white Victorian petticoat and low-cut violet chemise, the latter in crisp, beautifully ironed Ralph Lauren shorts and polo shirt, sat at a tiny wrought-iron table, watching Lily inch her way through the multitudes.
“How do you think it went?”
“Hard to tell. She doesn’t look very happy, does she?”
Lily’s mouth was a thin line, her eyes blank, her shoulders drooping beneath her green linen shift. She reached the table, sat down on the chair her friends had saved for her, poured herself a glass from the bottle of wine the others had bought, and sighed. Terry was dying to ask her what had happened with Sean the previous night but held off. If it had been a disaster, maybe Lils wouldn’t want to talk about it yet.
Jules had no such scruples. “So? What happened? Don’t tell me you messed it up?”
Lily looked up from her drink. Slowly, a tear formed in her left eye, fell from her lashes, and ran down her cheek.
“Oh, Lils!” Terry reached for her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry.”
“What did you do? I thought it was all arranged?”
Lily looked at both women, the muscles in her jaw working, then burst out laughing, unable to contain herself any longer. “Gotcha.”
“Lily, how could you?”
“God, I was sure you were really down.”
“But you cried. I saw you.”
“Yeah, me too. You cow. How’d you do that?”
“An old soap-opera actress taught me. You just tighten your throat for a minute, like you’re continually swallowing, and you cry. Clever, eh?” Lily lit a cigarette and took a drag. “It was great. We’re back together, two, three nights, just like it was before. Hell, it’s hot out.”
“Eight o’ clock and it feels warmer than it did at noon.” Terry pressed her cold glass against her forehead in an effort to cool down. She found it hard to deal with the summer. Her skin didn’t like the sun and she tended to wilt anytime it was over seventy degrees.
“It’s being in the city. Someone told me the concrete soaks up the heat all day, then lets it out again once the sun goes down.”
“You mean it’s nice and cool out there in the country? That’s it, I’m off. I hate this. Look at all those people, happily sweating away. Ugh.”
“Only a few weeks to go, babe, and it’ll be September and back to the rain.”
“Can’t come soon enough for me.”
Jules was unable to restrain herself any longer. “Can we forget about Terry’s endless problems with the weather? And talk about what matters?”
“Being hot matters to me.”
“It’s the summer. It’s only a little warm spell.”
“And I suppose I’m exaggerating, is that it?”
“Don’t be so touchy. I just meant I want to talk about Sean and the plan.”
“Okay, girls, enough. Come on, you love each other really. And we do need to decide how it’ll all work.”
“Yeah, Lils. I know.” Terry took another gulp of her drink. There was no point in her getting annoyed, she was aware of that, but the way Jules seemed to stay perpetually cool when she was too hot to think about anything other than a cold shower drove her crazy.
“Now, I think we should leave it a couple of weeks, give him a chance to relax into things again. Then, we’ll persuade him that three is better than one.”
“How’ll we set it up? Who’ll get first choice of nights?”
“Me. Then you guys get to pick. There shouldn’t be a problem. He’s got time enough for all of us. And he doesn’t tire easily, so no need to worry about overuse.”
“Good. Because I have plans,” said Jules.
“You’re not going to fuck him, are you?”
“Of course. So long as Lily doesn’t mind.”
“No problem with me. He’s got more than enough to go round.”
“You only wanted sperm. That’s what you said.”
“Why not harvest it the natural way?”
“Organic sperm,” Lily said, laughing. “The best.”
“And enjoy myself at the same time. I will enjoy myself, won’t I?”
“You will, babe. You will.”
“Yummy. I can’t wait.”
“But…won’t you be jealous, Lils?”
“Of Jules? I don’t think so. I mean, I only want Sean for my nights, so why would I mind him being with Jules on some of the others? Anyway, I love the idea of us all sharing him. It sort of feels like an extension of us being friends. We share lots of other stuff, like secrets and problems and things, so why not him?”
“Are you sure?”
“You’re not thinking of joining in the sex?”
“God, no. I just…I don’t know. So much can go wrong. It could get very messy.”
“Well, it won’t. We all know what we want. And we’re all going to get it. Don’t worry so much.”
“I can’t help it, can I? You know me, I’m a worrier. Always have been.”
“Well, there’s nothing to worry about here. A perfect solution to a tricky problem.”
Terry looked at her best friend, still concerned that this could end in tears but aware that there was no point in continuing to argue. Lily had always been the kind of person who barreled ahead without a lot of thought; once she’d decided that something was a good idea, that was it. She’d go on with it, regardless of what people said to dissuade her.
“And Mara?” asked Jules.
“What about her?”
“When do we tell her we’re going ahead with it?”
“She’s not stupid, you know. She’ll have figured out we were interested.”
“Has anyone heard from her?”
“Not me.”
“Me either.”
“See. She knows.”
“And she’s not talking to us.”
“She’s just shocked. You know Mara.”
“‘Jake wouldn’t have approved.’”
“Balls to that. When it’s all set up, we’ll call her, get together. Let’s just give her some time. She’ll come round.”
seventeen
Mara knelt over the bowl, scrubbing brush poised, breathing in the acrid smell of strong bleach. No question, cleaning other people’s toilets was the worst of her job. Generally, she liked the families she worked for. They were good payers. They passed on things they didn’t need anymore—dishes, clothes for the girls, food past its sell-by date—and they never left any hideous messes for her to clear up. But she still hated the lavatories.
She held her breath and dove in, trying to distract herself with thoughts of Jake and a picnic they’d had in the Chiswick House park the first year they were together, when she was pregnant with Moo. It was one of her favorite mem
ories. But even that failed to block out what she was doing. She gritted her teeth and scrubbed.
Ten minutes later, she was out of the bathroom and on to the master bedroom, tossing the clean linen high over the bed, letting it fall through the air to settle on the mattress. She tucked the sheet in, hurried to put the duvet into its cover, and waved the duster over the dressing table. She was going to have to skimp on her work today if she was going to make it to Chelsea to drop in on Jules.
She needed a lawyer to find out how good a case the Moores had against her. And to do that, she needed money. She’d made a few calls, found out that even the cheapest solicitor would charge her hundreds of pounds to give her his advice and write a response to the Moores’ letter. Hundreds of pounds she didn’t have.
But she was going to have to find it somewhere. Jules and Lily would help her if she asked, but she hated the idea of borrowing from them. Partly, it was a hangover from her childhood. Growing up, she’d had the idea of operating with only cash dinned into her for so long that her family’s taboo against being in debt had taken very strong root. But mostly it was that she felt her relationship with her friends would never be the same if they were to lend—or even give—her money. She and Lily—or she and Jules—wouldn’t be equals anymore, no matter what they might claim to the contrary. And she valued their friendship far too highly to put it at risk.
Perhaps she could have forced aside her scruples in this case, given what was at stake. Only, her friends had offered to help in the past and she’d always refused. They knew how she felt about borrowing. They’d want to know what was so important that she would change the habits of a lifetime. And she didn’t want to tell them about the Moores’ letter. Because then she would have to explain about her past.
She couldn’t bear to do that. It wasn’t that she thought Jules and Terry and Lily would stop being her friends if they knew she’d been a call girl. Of course they wouldn’t. They loved her, and that wouldn’t change. But she hated the idea of them knowing. She needed her friendship with them to remain untarnished by her past, needed them to see her as she wanted to be seen: Mara, friend, wife, and mother. Not Mara, ex-prostitute. Of course, if they ever asked her if she had been on the game, she’d have to tell them. But she prayed they never would.