by Lisa Jewell
Marrying Jo hadn’t been a mistake, Tony realized, and getting divorced hadn’t been a mistake, but letting Ness love him had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life.
Millie’s Curveball
‘Thank God that’s over,’ said Sean in the cab on the way home from Mickey’s, more to allow Millie the opportunity to tell him it had been a nightmare than because he was glad it was over. He’d had an excellent night. He always loved family nights out, especially now Ned was back. ‘Thank you for going through that for me.’
‘God, Sean,’ Millie looked at him incredulously, ‘don’t be silly. It was a true pleasure. Your family are fantastic’
He turned to look at her. ‘Really?’
‘Really. I’ve had a brilliant night. Your mum is amazing. And so beautiful. And your father’s adorable.’ Millie smiled and rolled into Sean’s shoulders, nestling into his armpit. ‘I’d like to get to know them. Your family. Get to know them properly. You know?’
Sean looked at her then and kissed the top of her head and loved her even more than he’d loved her that morning, more than he’d ever loved anyone in all of his life, and it was all he could do to stop himself from proposing to her all over again.
‘I can’t get over how different you three brothers all are, though.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’re all really similar in some ways; you’ve all got the same chins and ears and face shape. But Ned’s all sort of hippiefied and sweet-natured and seems a lot younger than his age. And Tony’s all strait-laced and grown-up and seems older than his age. I can’t believe he’s about the same age as me.’
‘Yup. That’s our Tone. Old before his time.’
‘I think he’s really sweet, though. Like a big teddy bear.’
‘God, he’d slit his wrists if he heard you saying that. He’s really self-conscious about his weight.’
‘Why? He’s not fat.’
‘Yes he is. He’s a complete bloater.’
‘God – men are so rude about each other! He’s not fat. He’s just cuddly. All pink and fluffy in his fleece. I think he’s quite good-looking, actually.’
Sean threw her a mock-horrified expression. ‘D’you fancy him or something?’
‘No, of course not! I don’t fancy anyone in the whole galaxy except you, my love, as you well know. No – he’s good-looking in that teddy-bear kind of a way. You know. I really like him. And I really like Ness, too.’
‘Yeah, Ness is cool, isn’t she?’
‘Tony doesn’t appreciate her, though, does he?’
Sean shrugged. ‘No,’ he said, ‘probably not – not like I appreciate you, eh?’
Millie smiled at him and nuzzled closer into his shoulder. ‘No one’s ever appreciated me like you do.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’ Sean squeezed her tight and breathed in deeply, savouring the taste of the moment and trying to halt time, because right then, sitting in the back seat of a Peugeot 406 with Millie on a Saturday night in April, Sean knew he was experiencing perfect and complete happiness.
There was a soft knocking at the bathroom door. ‘Sean? Can I come in?’
‘Just having a pee, Millie, I’ll be out in a second.’
Sean jumped slightly when he heard the door opening behind him and felt Millie’s hand brushing against his jumper.
‘Millie!’
‘Oh, don’t be so silly,’ she scoffed, ‘we’re bloody engaged. It’s about time we admitted to the awful fact that we go to the loo, don’t you think? Anyway, there’s something I want to say and if I don’t say it now…’ She took a huge and audible deep breath. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? What on earth for?’ Sean’s pee suddenly sounded extraordinarily loud so he tried to angle it down the side of the bowl.
‘I think I’m about to throw you a curveball.’
Sean desperately wanted to turn round and look at her, but he was still, inexplicably, peeing.
‘OK – hit me with it.’ Sean was now also quite convinced that not only was this the longest pee he’d ever done, it was also quite possibly the smelliest.
‘There’s something I have to tell you. Something important. Something you’re probably not expecting and something that’s going to change everything. Big time.’
‘Right.’ Here it comes, he thought, she’s going to dump me. While I’m pissing. Actually in the process of pissing.
‘The thing is – and I still haven’t decided whether this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m really hoping you’ll think it’s a good thing…’
A good thing, thought Sean, how could you possibly imagine that I might think that you dumping me while I’m pissing is a good thing?
‘Sean – I’m pregnant.’
The last droplet of pee finally hit the bowl and sounded like a cluster bomb being dropped in the Atlantic.
Then the bathroom was silent.
Charming Sentiments from Overseas
‘I am stuffed,’ said Ned, flopping on to the sofa and switching on the TV, ‘absolutely fucking stuffed.’It was the first time since he got home that he’d had any kind of appetite and he’d really gone for it at Mickey’s that night. Houmous and tara with about four whole pitta breads, some deep-fried crispy things stuffed with minced lamb, one of Mum’s stuffed vine leaves, the mixed grill, which was completely massive, ice-cream and liqueurs. Not to mention six bottles of Cypriot lager and all the champagne they’d had before they left the house. He pulled up his T-shirt and caressed his swollen belly tenderly.
Gerry came in carrying a large cardboard box full of green-tinged silver candlesticks and his cleaning kit. He laid out some newspaper, made himself a cigarette, put on his brushed-cotton gloves and started polishing, picking up his roll-up every now and then between cotton-covered fingertips and sucking on it contemplatively.
‘Fancy giving me a hand?’ he said to Ned after a few moments.
Ned glanced at him in a manner that suggested he was clearly insane.
‘I’ll give you a fiver.’
Ned thought about his rapidly diminishing bank account. ‘Per thing?’
‘You mad?’ said Gerry. ‘No – for doing half of it.’
‘Half of it? You’ve got to be kidding. There’s about twenty sticks in there.’
‘OK, a tenner.’
‘No way – three quid a stick. That’s my final offer.’
‘One.’
‘Two-fifty.’
‘One-fifty.’
‘Two.’
‘Done.’
‘Cool.’
Ned wrenched himself from his seat and sauntered over to his father. He rifled through the candlesticks for a while, looking for ones without too much ornamentation and fuss, and then took them over to his position in front of the TV.
‘So, tell me more about this big surprise for Mum,’ said Ned.
‘Shhh!’ Gerry put his finger to his lips and looked at Ned sternly.
‘It’s all right – she’s in the kitchen.’
‘Well,’ said Gerry, leaning towards Ned and whispering, ‘I’m going to tell her I’m taking her out for a flash dinner, tell her to get all dolled up, drive past the Ritz, go all dewy-eyed, you know, remember our first date, that kind of thing. Tempt her in for a quick cocktail, and then – surprise, surprise – da-da!’ He rubbed his hands together and winked at Ned.
‘Who’s going to be there?’
‘You lot, obviously. The rest of the family. Family friends. About fifty of us. Champagne reception. Canapés. Things with caviar and quail’s eggs. No expense spared.’
‘Cool,’ said Ned, ‘and who’s going to be staying the night?’
‘Just us lot. Not forking out for the rest of them – you’ve got to be kidding. I’ve booked four rooms. And yours is a double, so you’d better hurry up and find yourself another girlfriend.’ Gerry laughed at Ned and then pulled himself together as he heard Mum’s footsteps coming up the hallway. ‘Shhh,’ he said again, ‘she’s com
ing.’
Bernie wandered back in with a crossword magazine and cup of coffee. It always amazed Ned that Mum was able to drink a cup of full-strength Colombian coffee at midnight and then go to bed half an hour later and fall into a deep, impenetrable slumber. Ned only had to look at a teabag after six to ensure that he’d be awake until the early hours, listening to his heart pounding like a locomotive in his chest. ‘Aaah,’ she cooed, stopping at the threshold to survey the scene in front of her, ‘look at you both. Polishing away. Just like the old days.’
She fell into the sofa next to Ned, curled her feet up under her, stroked her coffee cup affectionately and sighed pleasurably. ‘Now that’s what I call a lovely evening. All my boys, good food, good wine, and a big fat helping of good news on top.’
Ned and Gerry grunted in response and carried on polishing and watching TV. Bernie reached for her Ultras and lit one up. She stared at her magazine for a while, but Ned could tell she wasn’t concentrating. She was about to say something – she had that air about her.
‘So,’ she said finally, a couple of minutes later, ‘what do you think?’
‘Think of what, love?’ said Gerry.
‘About the news? Millie and Sean. What d’you think?’
‘Lovely girl,’ said Gerry, absent-mindedly, ‘really lovely girl.’
‘Ned,’ she nudged him gently with her elbow, ‘what about you?’
Ned shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I liked her.’
Bernie put the magazine down. Ned could hear her sucking in her breath, preparing to say what was really on her mind. ‘You don’t think… you don’t think it’s a bit soon, you know? They’re rushing it a bit?’
Ned put down his candlestick. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose it is a bit soon. But they really like each other, you can tell that just by looking.’
‘Yes,’ said Bernie pensively, ‘but that’s what worried me. I mean, when you first start going out with someone you’re supposed to really like them. That’s the whole point. You’ve got all these chemicals swirling around your body making sure that you really like that person. It’s what happens after that that’s the problem. I’ve always thought you shouldn’t get engaged when you think the other person’s perfect – that you should wait until you know they’re not but you still love them anyway. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I really liked Millie – I thought she was a lovely girl. But she and Sean, well, they’re quite different, aren’t they?’
‘You mean she’s the poshest fucking person you’ve ever met in your life?’ said Ned, smirking.
‘Well, yes, she is quite posh. But it’s not that. She’s just not his usual type, is she? And then there’s the age gap – she’ll be wanting babies soon. D’you think Seany’s ready for babies? Gerry?’
Gerry glanced at her through a cloud of tobacco smoke. ‘Course he is,’ he said. ‘Thirty years old – I had three of them when I was his age.’
‘Yes, but boys these days. They don’t grow up as fast. And Seany’s always been a bit – irresponsible. You know…’
‘’ Bout time he had a bit of responsibility, then, isn’t it?’ said Gerry.
Bernie sighed. ‘Maybe he’s just getting carried away by the romance of it – you know what he’s like.’
Ned snorted derisively. ‘Sean’s not romantic,’ he said.
‘No – but you know what I mean. Maybe he’s just a bit overwhelmed by the idea of marrying into that kind of society.’
Ned snorted again. ‘Mum, you’re basically saying that your son is a shallow, social-climbing dickhead who just wants to marry into the upper classes.’
Bernie looked momentarily flustered. ‘No – that’s not what I meant.’
‘Other way round, if anything,’ muttered Gerry. ‘She’s probably trying to piss off her old man by marrying into the proletariat.’
‘Oh, I don’t know – she’s a bit old to be rebelling against her family, isn’t she? Besides, Seany’s hardly a prole these days, is he, Gerry? What with his book and everything.’
‘Anyway,’ said Ned, ‘you two aren’t really in a position to talk, are you? Nice Jewish boy marrying a good Catholic girl. And look at the disaster your marriage has been, eh?’
Bernie and Gerry smiled at each other. ‘You’re right, you’re right,’ said Bernie, ‘but besides all of that, this getting-married-in-a-hurry thing. I don’t know, it’s not very Sean, is it?’
Ned nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. But then again, writing a bestselling novel, earning a shedload of money and becoming the hottest young writer in town wasn’t very Sean either.
‘Maybe he’s just growing up,’ said Ned. ‘You know – he is thirty; it’s about time.’
‘Yes,’ said Bernie, picking at his fingernails, ‘I suppose so.’
‘I mean, look at Tony and Jo – they’d known each other for years when they got married, they seemed like they were perfect for each other. And it still went wrong.’
‘Hmm,’ said Bernie, nodding.
‘And me and Carly – ten years we were together for and it didn’t work out.’
‘Yes. I know what you’re saying, but there’s just something worrying me about it. I just feel like Sean’s not emotionally ready for this level of commitment. If it was you, say, or Tony, I’d feel more comfortable. But Sean – he’s always been such a loner. He’s always done everything for himself, never had to think about anyone else besides himself before. I just can’t see him being ready to share his life with someone.’
‘So you’re saying that Sean should just spend the rest of his life on his own, then, are you?’
‘No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that they should at least try living together for a while first before they do something as important as getting married. I’m just saying, I don’t think Sean’s ready yet. That’s all.’
‘Well, I do,’ said Ned, feeling suddenly defensive of his older brother, ‘I think he’s ready. I think he’s going to be a brilliant husband. And he’s going to be a brilliant father one day, too.’ He heard a familiar tinkle from his mobile phone, which was sitting in his jacket pocket in the hallway. A text message. Who the hell would be sending him text messages at this time of night? A shiver went down his spine and he wandered out of the living room to get it.
An innocuous little envelope icon flashed jauntily on the screen, trying to convince him that it was there as a symbol of something good and nice. Ned thought otherwise.
He pressed the OK button and the message opened up:
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
cuntcuntcuntcuntcunt
He sighed, switched off his phone and went back to the living room to polish candlesticks.
Pregnant?
‘Pregnant?’
‘Uh huh.’
Sean tucked himself slowly back into his trousers and turned to face Millie. She was looking up at him like a small girl who wasn’t sure whether the felt-tip-pen mural she’d painted directly on to the living-room wall was a good thing or a bad thing.
Sean felt something freeze inside him at that moment – and it was exactly the same part of him that should have melted.
‘What do you mean, you’re pregnant?’
Millie’s face fell when she heard the annoyance in his voice. ‘I’m really sorry, Sean.’
‘How did it happen? I mean, we’ve always used condoms.’
‘I don’t know, Sean, I really don’t know.’
Sean’s mind fast-forwarded through every single sour-breathed early-morning nuzzle, every late-night, giggly, drunken fumble, every quickie on the sofa and leisurely Sunday-afternoon marathon session, until it settled on a point, two weeks ago, when Millie had stopped him reaching for the condoms. ‘Not yet,’she’d said, ‘put it on later. I just want to feel, you know…’
‘No,’ he’d teased, ‘what?’
‘You know.�
��
‘No,’ he’d laughed, ‘I don’t! Tell me – tell me what you want to feel.’
‘You,’ she’d said. ‘I want to feel you. Properly. Inside me. OK?’
And it most certainly had been OK. Fantastic. Magnificent. Silken. Warm, soft and made for him. And a fine, fine development in their relationship, in Sean’s opinion. After all, that was it, wasn’t it? Once you’d reached the condom-on-at-the-last-minute stage, there was no going back. It was all part of the natural forward momentum of a healthy relationship – like leaving a toothbrush, like referring to each other as boyfriend and girlfriend, like saying ‘I love you’. It was one of those no-turning-back-now rites of passage.
‘Jesus,’ he muttered, ‘it’s the condoms, isn’t it, using them at the last minute. Shit! So stupid. So stupid.’
‘Sean! It’s got nothing to do with the way we use condoms. I’m seven weeks gone. It happened weeks ago.’
‘Seven weeks? But we’ve only been going out for eight and a half!
‘I know. I know.’
‘But I don’t understand. What were we doing?’
Millie raised her eyebrows at him. Sean felt another flash of annoyance. ‘No – for God’s sake – I mean, what night? Where had we been? What did we do differently?’
‘Oh God, Sean. What does it matter? I’m pregnant.’
‘It matters because… because… I don’t understand! I’ve used condoms all my life and I’ve never got anyone pregnant before. Are you sure it’s mine?’
‘What?!’
Sean knew he’d overstepped the mark. He reached out to touch her arm. She flinched. ‘Look. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. But maybe if you’d slept with someone just before we met. You know…’