by Sue Margolis
Once we were in the fitting room, she took off her top. Her bra was several sizes too small. It was riding up at the back and she had the usual quadraboobs going on: two extra at the top, two at the sides.
“You know what,” I said. “I suspect that the bra you have on has shrunk in the wash. It really isn’t a great fit.”
She stared into the fitting room mirror. “Hmm … you could be right. It’s my housekeeper’s fault. She washes everything at sixty degrees. Ruins everything—silk, cashmere, you name it.”
I brought her three bras in a 34G, but didn’t mention the size. She tried them on. Her crepey quadraboobs were no more.
“Oh, these are perfect. I’ll take two of each.”
“Excellent. Tell you what—I can see that the labels are rubbing you. Why don’t I cut them out?”
“Good idea. I have very sensitive skin and they do tend to irritate.”
A few moments later, she left the shop, Jeremy under one arm, her Sarah Green Lingerie bag over the other, a contented smile on her face.
• • •
“So, how did it go?” I said to Hugh as I let him in.
He shook his head. “I didn’t even get to audition. By the time I got there, they’d already chosen somebody.” He handed me the bag of Chinese food and we headed into the kitchen.
“That’s a bit bloody mean. Not even giving you the chance.”
“Way it goes,” he said.
“Oh, hon,” I said, putting my arm around him. “I’m really sorry. I was sure you were going to get it.”
“Actually, I’m OK about it. I’ve got plenty of building work lined up. It pays far better than the theater.”
“I know, but that’s hardly the point.” I put the bag of food down on the kitchen table.
“Maybe not, but what can I do? I’ll get over it… . Now come on … tell me about your day.”
“Not a lot of customers,” I said, “but I made a couple of decent sales. I guess it’s going to be slow until the word gets around.”
“And it will get around. You just need to be patient.”
I’d just cracked open a couple of bottles of Chinese beer when Rosie and Will arrived. For once Will wasn’t asleep. He was wide-awake and kicking in his little bouncy chair.
“Hey, you guys,” Rosie said. “Thank you so much for agreeing to look after Will.”
I hadn’t actually mentioned to Hugh that we were watching Will, but he didn’t seem remotely perturbed.
Rosie put Will’s chair down on the kitchen floor and handed me a plastic carrier bag. I glanced inside: nappies, wipes and a bottle of formula. “Sorry, I have to get going. I’m running late. I shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.”
“No rush,” I said as she gave Will a good-bye kiss.
After Rosie had gone, Hugh and the kids laid the table and opened the cartons of food while I played with Will.
“Look at you,” I cooed as I watched his chubby hand make a grab for one of the plastic animals strung across his chair. “You are such a clever boy. Yes you are.” Will beamed back at me. “Look, he’s smiling. He’s smiling. I need to take a picture for Rosie. Quick, where’s my phone?”
It was on the table. Hugh handed it to me and I started snapping. “There’s a lovely smile! There’s a lovely smile.”
By now Ella was playing peekaboo with him. “Look, Mum … look. He’s actually laughing. Get another picture.”
Dan groaned. “Why do girls get so goofy around babies?”
“It’s called hormones,” I heard Hugh say. I was pleased that he was bonding with Dan.
“What are they?” Dan said.
“Chemicals. They’re what make girls girls.”
“Well, I’m glad I haven’t got them.”
“Actually, you do.”
“What?”
“Don’t panic,” Hugh said, laughing. “They’re special man hormones. Speaking of which, how do you fancy coming with me to see Chelsea next week?”
“Yeah! You bet!”
“Right,” I said. “Since Will’s happy playing, why don’t we all sit down and eat?”
I watched Dan and Ella pile food onto their plates.
“You two still hungry?” I said.
“God, yeah,” Dan said. “Fiona gave us this stuff that tasted like poo.”
“Yeah. And these disgusting fries.”
“Well, she told me you loved it and that you both ate loads. So thank you for being polite. I really appreciate it.” I paused. “Listen, something’s worrying me… . Are you guys OK with me farming you out to Fiona? I feel really guilty about not being there to pick you up from school. But I’m not sure what else …”
“Don’t worry,” Ella said. “Fiona’s is great. Grace and I practiced our songs for the old people. We did ‘Edelweiss’ and Fiona joined in. She’s good fun.”
“Yeah and Tom’s got Gross Science.”
“What on earth is Gross Science?”
“It’s brilliant. You can make this life-size wobbly brain, and stomach vomit and wounds with maggots and zits that you can actually squeeze … with real pus.”
“Stoppit,” Ella yelled. “I’m eating.” She turned to me. “Him and Tom chased Grace and me with the vomit and we told Fiona and she yelled at them.”
“Good for her. The whole thing sounds disgusting.”
“I disagree,” Hugh said. “I think it sounds great. Why didn’t we have toys like that when we were kids? So, Dan, how do you actually make the pus?”
Dan was about to explain, but Ella punched him on the arm.
At this point I decided that a change of subject might be in order. “Oh, by the way, a woman came into the shop today with a purple poodle.”
“Our maggots were purple.”
Great. So much for changing the subject.
“Kids, tell you what, why don’t you take your plates into the living room and watch a DVD?”
They didn’t need telling twice.
Hugh poured me another Chinese beer.
“By the way,” I said. “Thank you for inviting Dan to football. I really appreciate it. It’s the kind of thing boys miss out on when they don’t have a dad around.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “He’s a great kid. We’ll have fun. In fact, they’re both great kids.”
“They are, but then I am biased.” I drank some beer. “Oh, FYI, I’ve decided what to do about the school fair.” The idea had come to me last night as I was dropping off to sleep.
“Go on.”
I got up and closed the door so that the kids wouldn’t hear.
“To compensate for the lack of Greg Myers I’m going to hire a rockabilly band.”
“That’s a great idea. Everybody loves rockabilly.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“OK, so how are you going to explain the lack of Greg Myers?”
I’d worked that out last night, too.
“I’ve decided to come clean. I’m fed up with lying. It’s too stressful. I loathe Tara and Charlotte and they’re going to be crowing for years, but I got myself into this mess.”
“So when will you tell them?”
“As soon as I’ve got the band sorted. I’ll send a group e-mail and then wait for the brickbats to come flying.”
“Don’t do that. Wait until the actual day of the fair.”
“Why? What would that achieve?”
“Once they see what a great band you’ve got and everybody’s bopping and having a great time, they won’t be so angry. The flak might not be so bad.”
“But I did a bad thing. I deserve the flak.”
“Yes, but you don’t deserve the vitriol you’ll get from the likes of Tara and Charlotte. Damage limitation is what you should be aiming for. Take my advice and hold off saying anything until the actual day. Do it for me.”
“For you? Hugh, why are you so worked up about all this? It’s kind of you, but I can take care of myself.”
“I know, but I hate the idea of yo
u being bullied by these bitches.”
I reached out and took his hand. “Thank you for worrying, but if I know Tara and Charlotte, it won’t last long. They’ll soon get bored and go in search of somebody else to pick on.”
“Maybe, but I’d still rather you didn’t own up right now.”
“I need to. I can’t go on being dishonest.” I stabbed a kung pao prawn. “Unless of course I made a public statement on the day. Then I’d really be falling on my sword. I suppose an e-mail is a bit cowardly.”
“Exactly. Getting up in public is going to take a hell of a lot of guts. But in the end it could work out for the best.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I decided to take Hugh’s advice on the grounds that it was probably the lesser of two evils. “OK, I’ll hold off making the announcement.”
“Excellent. And let me lend you the money to pay for the band. Anybody decent is going to cost the best part of a grand.”
I leaned across and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s a lovely gesture and thank you, but I’d rather stick it on my credit card. I got myself into this mess. It feels better if I take responsibility.”
“And how will you pay it back?”
“I dunno. Work hard, I guess.”
Since Will had nodded off and the kids were in the living room glued to Back to the Future III—which was going on way past their school night bedtime—I got out my laptop and Googled “rockabilly bands.” There were loads, all with names like the Hound Dogs and the Alley Cats. We listened to half a dozen or so playing “Tutti Frutti,” “Blue Suede Shoes, “Great Balls of Fire.” They were all pretty good. In the middle of the Milkshakers’ “Be-Bop-a-Lula,” Hugh grabbed my hand and we went jiving around the kitchen. He was terrific. I was terrible. I had almost no idea what I was doing, but pretty soon we were turning and spinning—me yelling at him to be careful of Will—who somehow remained fast asleep in his bouncy chair. When the music finished, we stood in front of each other laughing and breathless, me complimenting him on his great moves.
“I have others,” he said, drawing me towards him.
“Really? Why don’t you show me?”
“Well … I have this,” he said, slipping my dress strap off my shoulder and kissing my neck. “And I have this.” His hand was under my skirt, stroking the inside of my thigh. “Oh, and this …” He pulled away the crotch of my panties and pushed two fingers hard inside me.
“Hugh! Stop! The kids. They’re next door.”
“Sorry. I totally forgot. But I can’t keep my hands off you. I suppose it’s too early for me to start sleeping over?”
“I think so. The kids aren’t ready. I’d need to sit down and explain about us. And I don’t know what I’d say. It’s not like we’re planning to get married or live together. We’ve only just started dating. We need to give it time.”
“Fine, but can you enlist Betty’s services a bit more?”
I promised that I would. The kids seemed to really like her. The night she’d come to babysit, she’d brought a pack of cards and taught them gin rummy and pontoon. Dan loved it. Ella insisted that she did, too, but I knew she was still far too young for games like rummy and pontoon. Further investigation revealed that what she’d really enjoyed was playing with Betty and beating Dan.
“So, which band do you think was best?” Hugh was saying now. “The Milkshakers were pretty good, but like I said, they’re going to cost you.”
I said that I’d get the bedpans appraised by an antiques expert. “You never know. One of them might be worth a fortune.”
“I promise you, they’re not. They’re worth what you paid for them.”
“Well, sixty quid’s better than nothing. I’ll just have to put the rest on my credit card. Not a great idea, I grant you, but I don’t have a choice.”
I sat down and e-mailed the Milkshakers, asking if they might be available to open the school fair and perform a two-hour set.
• • •
Rosie got back just after ten.
“So, how did it go with Simon?” I said.
She flopped into an armchair. “He says he loves me, that he always has, that he’s sorry for the way he’s treated me and wants to move back in. Plus some production company or other has bought his screenplay, so he can afford to pay his way.”
“Wow. So what did you say?”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
“I’ll tell you why. We spent two hours in the pub and he barely mentioned Will. I think he asked after him once. He’s simply not interested in being a dad. Even though he’s making money, he just wants somewhere cheap to hang out. He hasn’t changed.”
“That must have been hard.”
Rosie was close to tears. “Come on,” Hugh said. “Have a drink.” He took a Chinese beer out of the fridge.
For once, Rosie didn’t hesitate. She took a sip and tears began streaming down her face.
“On the upside,” Hugh said, “Sarah’s solved the Greg Myers problem by hiring a rockabilly band.”
“Great idea,” Rosie said, between sobs. “Everybody loves a rockabilly band.” She sniffed. The tears kept coming.
I whispered to Hugh that maybe this wasn’t the right time to be discussing rockabilly bands.
“Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the atmosphere, that’s all.”
“I know, but it isn’t working.”
“The thing is, I never stopped loving him,” Rosie sobbed. “I always lived in hope that one day he might change.”
I put my arms around her. “I know, hon, but hard as it was, you did the right thing.”
“I guess. I’m just so bloody sad, that’s all. I’m starting to think that nobody’s ever going to want me.”
“Stop it. For starters you’re a new mother and you haven’t exactly been on the dating scene. Second, you’re gorgeous and funny. Of course somebody will want you.”
“Hear, hear,” Hugh said. “Now, how’s about I make you a plate of Chinese? There’s loads left.”
“That would be nice.” Sniff. “Thank you.”
In the living room, Ella burst into song: “Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match… .”
Chapter 12
Two weeks later, Mum called to say that she and Dad were missing the kids and me so much that they were coming home as soon as they’d finished their flamenco course. She was at pains to point out that the decision to finish the course was Dad’s, not hers. They’d been away the best part of two months and she was anxious to get back, but apparently Dad had almost mastered the jaberas—a tricky Málagan fandango—and wanted to see it through to the end.
By now, Hugh and I were spending a lot of time together, either in bed at his place or—since the kids were always around—not in bed at mine. He was working hard at making friends with them: “OK, Ella, I think you’ve finally nailed ‘Edelweiss.’ Why don’t we take ‘Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ again, from the top?” He’d taken Dan to football twice now. “We had such a great time,” he said one night over dinner at his place. “I think the two of us are really bonding.” He paused. “You don’t mind, do you? I mean, I’d hate it if you felt I was treading on your toes.”
“Mind? I couldn’t be more delighted. I love it that he’s got somebody to take him to a game. Dad takes him occasionally, but he’s never been a huge football fan.”
“Excellent. So you’ll be pleased to hear that I’ve decided to buy Dan a season ticket to Chelsea. So now we’ll both have one.”
“Hugh, that’s incredibly generous and Dan will hero-worship you until the end of time, but season tickets cost a fortune, as you well know.”
Hugh shrugged. “I can afford it. Plus I’m going to do that trekking-in-Morocco trip I’ve been talking about.”
“When?” The Producers had finished its run, but as far as I knew, he had months of building work lined up.
“November. Things always go quiet in the run-up to Christmas. Why don’t you come with me?”
His mouth turned down at the corners. “I don’t want to go on my own.”
“Brilliant, so don’t go and put the money into a savings account.”
If I was honest, it wasn’t just the thought of him spending the money that troubled me. Maybe I was jumping the gun, but I couldn’t help thinking that if we decided at some stage to make our relationship permanent, he would still want to take these trips abroad—leaving me, not to mention the children, who already thought the world of him, alone for weeks or even months at a time. When it came to men, I’d never been the needy, clingy type and I had no problem with Hugh—or me, for that matter—taking short breaks. The occasional week apart could be good for a relationship. Months were different. I’d lost Mike to the next world. I didn’t want to lose Hugh to this one.
“Why should I put the money in a savings account?” Hugh said. “I’ve got all I need.”
“Yes, for now, but suppose you got ill and couldn’t work.”
“I’d be entitled to benefits. I don’t need much to live on. I own a few nice boy toys. I could always sell them. Plus I’m used to eating potatoes and beans.”
“But what about other things … clothes, shoes, haircuts?”
He shrugged. “I’d get by.”
“OK, but what about now? If you had money saved, you could think about buying a flat or a car. I definitely want those things. I want to be in a position where I can buy the kids new clothes without having to stop and think if I can afford it. And I always want to have money in the bank—something to fall back on.”
“Fair enough, but just make sure you don’t end up the richest corpse in the cemetery.”
“That’s a mean thing to say. You make it sound like I’m obsessed with money.”
He reached out and touched my arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you’re not obsessed with money. It’s just that I see too many people hoarding cash instead of getting pleasure from it.”
It was the first time we’d had anything approaching a cross word and it left me feeling troubled. There was no doubt in my mind that I was falling for Hugh, but I was worried that his attitude to money—not to mention his long absences—might become a thing.