‘Everything is fine, darling!’ she trills merrily. ‘I’ve just finished this week’s online learning session and it made me think about you. We need to have a quick chat.’
For fuck’s sake. This is literally the last thing that I need right now. Whatever she’s about to say is guaranteed to ruin my mood and dampen my vibe for the rest of the day.
‘I’m actually a bit busy, Mum,’ I start but I’m wasting my breath. Short of hanging up on her, there is nothing I can do to stop her when she wants to have a quick chat. Which is code for a lengthy monologue.
‘It’s about you and Nick,’ she says, plowing straight ahead. ‘I’m worried that you’re spending too much time on your phones and computers and devices and not enough time investing in your relationship as lovers.’
I close my eyes and start trying to count to ten. I don’t make it past two.
‘The Internet is killing sex,’ she states. ‘And you need to do something about it.’
Incredible. I’ll add it to the list of things that demand my attention.
‘The first thing you need to do is remove your mobile phones from the bedroom,’ she continues. ‘Hannah? Are you listening to me?’
‘I’m not having a conversation about this with you, Mother,’ I say firmly. ‘It’s just like last week, when you rang me up and tried to tell me that I need to do something about harmonising the domestic and sensual halves of myself, right when I was in the middle of trying to unblock the dishwasher filter. I am not your sex-counselling guinea pig, okay? Find someone else to trial this stuff on.’
There is silence at the other end of the line and I instantly feel bad.
‘But you’re probably right,’ I concede, grudgingly. ‘I’m sure it would be better for our health if we didn’t charge our phones next to the bed every night.’
‘Definitely better for your sexual health,’ agrees my mother, bouncing back. ‘That’s sorted then. Excellent!’
‘Marvellous,’ I mutter. ‘Thanks for calling.’
‘My pleasure,’ she chirrups. ‘Just shout if you want any more advice, Hannah. I’m always here to help. Now, sorry to cut you short, darling, but I must go. I was just heading out to the shops when you called.’
‘But Mum, you rang—’ I start, but the dialing tone buzzes back at me. I shake my head and hang up before lifting my laptop lid, but even the sexiest word isn’t enough to get me back in the zone so I delete it and try again. Binky said that I should push my characters further and take more chances. Her insinuation was that I need to loosen up which was a bit rude because I’ve always liked to think of myself as a very chilled out, laid-back yet also passionate kind of woman and any suggestion otherwise is a teeny bit insulting.
I’ll show her just how loose I can be. I shake my arms and shrug the tension out of my shoulders and then I start typing, really letting myself go. I dig as deep as I possibly can and type without thinking, which is another thing I read about in How to Write a Bestselling Novel. It’s called ‘Free Writing’ and the whole point is to write without fear of being judged or worrying about normal conventions. And the end result may be a little raw and in need of a polish but it will be real and honest and from the heart and that’s exactly what I’m after.
I write an entire paragraph and then pause, nervously reading what I’ve written back to myself. This is the moment of truth.
Bella Rose’s skin started to prickle. She had always been susceptible to blocked sweat glands, particularly under her breasts and on her upper thighs and most of the time a simple application of an antiperspirant usually did the trick. The best solution of all, of course, was to avoid any activity that would result in her perspiring but right here, with Daxx standing in front of her with such unbridled passion and lust in his eyes that it made her knees tremble, Bella Rose was prepared to throw all caution aside. This was a man she would gladly perspire for. Heck, just the sight of him unbuttoning his shirt made her damp.
The end result is…a little shit.
It’s not even sexy by my (apparently) low standards, despite the mention of both thighs and breasts. No wonder my own mother seems to think that I need marriage guidance. If I can’t even write about this stuff then what chance do I have of spicing up my own love life?
I need help.
Chapter Six
I am sitting in the empty staffroom, attempting to find the energy and inclination to mark Year Ten, Class C’s English homework when Cassie finds me.
‘You’ve got a face like a slapped kipper,’ she says, flopping down into the seat opposite me. ‘Why so glum? Is it because Scarlet has got the entire Sixth Form petitioning to go on strike if the canteen doesn’t start serving bacon and brie panini? Because I have to tell you, Hannah, a lot of the teaching staff are very onboard with the whole thing.’
I drop my pen and rest my chin on my hands.
‘It’s not that,’ I tell her. ‘I knew nothing about that but I’m ecstatic that my daughter is putting her Head Girl powers to good use since her appointment to the position, all of two days ago.’
‘So what is it then?’
‘Nothing is right.’ I exhale loudly. ‘I feel like I spend my entire time working as hard as I can and getting absolutely nowhere.’
Cassie nods sympathetically. ‘I get it. This job is getting more thankless by the day. Do you know, Miriam told me last week that she’s taken away the budget for the Chemistry department but that is in no way an excuse for anyone to make less progress? Seriously! How am I supposed to teach about chemical reactions without any buggering chemicals?’
I gaze out of the window. ‘It’s not just this place. It’s everything.’
‘Like what?’
I sigh. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Life.’
Cassie snorts. ‘You’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that, Hannah. Honestly – what’s pissing you off?’
I turn back to look at her, shrugging my shoulders.
‘I can’t be more specific because I don’t know. Everything just feels wrong.’ I shake my head in despair. ‘I feel like I spend every day trying to run up the down escalator and it’s knackering and pointless and I’ve had enough.’
Cassie raises an exquisitely shaped eyebrow and I feel something snap inside.
‘And that’s another thing. Surely by now, after forty-four years on this planet, I should be able to find some time and money for myself? I should be able to get my eyebrows waxed or have a relaxing massage if I want to, shouldn’t I?’
‘You should,’ she agrees, kindly ignoring my random complaint.
‘It shouldn’t be this hard.’ I bang my fist on the table. ‘And I’m bloody sick and tired of pretending that I know what I’m doing all the time. Would it be so awful just to admit that I don’t actually possess all the answers in the universe?’
Cassie leans forward and gives me a firm look. ‘Yes. Yes it would. We are women, Hannah and our one superpower is knowing everything about everything. If we let them suspect, for even one second, that we aren’t fully in control then we’ll be left with nothing. Do you understand me?’
I nod my head wearily but I don’t actually think I do understand. I just know that it all feels wrong right now.
‘What’s this actually about, Hannah?’ Cassie softens her grimace and gives me a concerned look. ‘Is it Nick? Or the kids?’
‘Yes.’ I slump back into my chair. ‘No. Oh god, I don’t know. I just know that I’m tired all the time and it feels like I’ve been breaking bits off myself to give to everyone else for so long that I didn’t even realise there was nothing left for me. Never mind time to focus on my actual marriage.’
Cassie smiles. ‘What you need is a date night,’ she tells me. ‘Go somewhere nice with Nick. Just the two of you.’
I suppress a howl. I’ve barely seen Nick properly in the last few weeks. He’s constantly busy either at work or fixing his bloody Land Rover and even when we are together, we’re both either utterly exhausted or end up talking about
money and how the hell we’re going to pay for everything that needs paying for.
Plus it feels like our family is in some kind of strange limbo, waiting for Dylan to go to university. None of us quite know how we’re supposed to be feeling and there’s nothing that I can do to ‘fix’ it because it’s supposed to be this way. We were never going to stay being the five of us forever, I know that. It’s making me feel like everything is layered with a thin sprinkling of sadness and I just don’t know if Nick feels the same way that I do. I’d ask him but I’m scared that I won’t like the answer.
‘I don’t think that’s going to help,’ I say. ‘A meal out is not going to solve my problems.’
A concerned look passes over Cassie’s face.
‘Are you guys having trouble?’ she asks quietly, glancing around to make sure that nobody can overhear. ‘You can talk to me about it if you are, Hannah. God knows if anyone will understand man trouble then it’s me. And men can get very challenging in their middle years, believe me.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s not really man trouble though. It’s woman trouble. It’s me.’
Cassie frowns and I elaborate.
‘I’m just feeling a bit – well, a bit boring.’
I pause, unsure how much to tell her but then decide that if I can’t talk to Cassie then the only other option is my mother and that is never happening, no matter how happy it would make her.
‘And it’s not just my life and who I am that’s a bit dull,’ I whisper, even though the staffroom is still empty. ‘It’s more than that. I think I’m maybe a bit boring in the bedroom. You know. When it comes to being sexy?’
Cassie starts to laugh but then sees my face and quickly stops.
‘What do you mean? Why would you think that? Has Nick said something to you?’
‘No!’ I shudder. ‘Of course he hasn’t. He’d never be so insensitive. No – I just think that I’m not very imaginative. I’ve been desperately trying to write some erotic scenes for Bella Rose and Daxx but I can’t get it right.’
‘I think you’re super sexy,’ says Cassie loyally, but I can see her mouth twitching. I shouldn’t have expected her to understand. The woman gets a facial twice a month and has a gym membership that she actually uses, plus a very active Tinder account. Her life is way more exciting than mine can ever hope to be. ‘You’re just having a bad day.’
‘It’s not just that though,’ I tell her. ‘Scarlet keeps banging on about me being middle-aged and I’m usually able to ignore her but lately it’s been getting harder and harder.’
Cassie shrugs her shoulders. ‘What’s the definition of middle-age?’ she asks me. ‘Is it a number or a state of mind? And as much as I love her, Scarlet can be a bit much sometimes, Hannah. Don’t let her get to you.’
‘That’s easy for you to say,’ I retort, sniffing loudly. ‘You don’t have to deal with her every day. And anyway, I’m starting to think that she might be right. I’ve looked online and I’m definitely displaying some of the symptoms of aging.’
‘We’re all aging, Hannah.’ Cassie sounds amused. ‘But go on – I’ll bite. Which ones?’
‘Well, I forgot all about Benji needing to take cakes in for the school cake sale the other day,’ I tell her. ‘Which was mortifying because the PTA specifically tasked me with providing sugar-free flapjacks for those children whose parents actually care about their teeth. And so now, if any of the little cherubs require any kind of dental work in the next six months, then I am going to be held solely responsible.’
Cassie tuts. ‘You’re always forgetting stuff for Benji’s school,’ she says, clearly unmoved. ‘That’s down to your organizational skills, Hannah – not getting old and past it.’
‘Fine!’ I lean towards her. ‘I didn’t want to have to share this with you because I don’t want to gross you out, but you obviously aren’t taking me seriously. It’s not just aging that I’m showing signs of. It’s the peri-menopause too.’ I lower my voice further. ‘I’m fairly sure that I have a reduced libido.’
I sit back, smug. There’s no way she can minimise that little nugget of information.
‘And you are basing this on what, exactly?’ Cassie does not look grossed out. She looks highly entertained.
I hold my hand up and start counting off on my fingers.
‘One: If we watch a film then I’m always asleep before it’s even halfway through. Two: Sometimes, if I had to choose, I’d rather have a hot bath and read my book than engage in any other nocturnal activity. Three: If we do actually have you-know-what then it’s not unheard of for my mind to start roaming onto other things and I’m not talking about sexy things – I’m talking about what food there is in the fridge and when the car is due for its next service and whether Dogger needs a top-up of worming pills. And four: As previously mentioned, I am struggling to write about anything that could be classed as even a bit sexually adventurous which is a problem when I’m supposed to be a writer of erotica and I’m currently attempting to write Book Two, which so far doesn’t even have a bloody title.’
I take a deep breath and blink hard. ‘I just don’t think I’m a very sexual person and that makes me want to cry. Quite a lot.’
Cassie jumps out of her seat and comes around the table, enveloping me in a big hug.
‘Hannah. My lovely but ever-so-slightly ridiculous friend. There is nothing wrong with you, okay?’
I pull away. ‘Did you not just hear the list of woe that I am dealing with? I’m only two steps away from needing to book into a retirement home.’
Cassie laughs. ‘I didn’t hear anything that any woman hasn’t felt at some time. I happen to do some of my best problem-solving during sex – it’s the only time that I’m not distracted.’
Relatable.
‘So you don’t think I’m menopausal?’ I ask, as Cassie heads back to her side of the table. ‘Or getting old?’
She shrugs again. ‘Who knows? I’m not a doctor. You might be menopausal but so what? Gone are the days when that meant a woman was all dried up and written off. We’ve got to own that shit now.’
I suppress a groan. I do not want to own the menopause. I only mentioned it in the first place because I wanted her to tell me that I’m being ridiculous and that there’s no way I can possibly be at that stage of life.
‘I mean, you’re getting older but you’re definitely not getting old,’ muses my so-called best friend. ‘What I do know is that you’re tired and over-worked and that’s making you a tiny bit stressed out right now.’
I nod in agreement. ‘I am all of those things.’
‘You need to take a chill pill, Hannah.’ Cassie flops back onto her chair. ‘Stop taking everything so seriously. Chill out. Do something just for you. And lighten up.’
Chapter Seven
My phone beeps just as I’m debating what to cook for supper.
‘I suppose I’m going to have to collect him,’ I say to Nick, eyeing the can of beer in his hand as I tip some fish fingers onto a baking tray. ‘Seeing as you’ve already started the weekend.’
‘You snooze, you lose,’ he tells me, stretching his legs out in front of him and sighing in pleasure. ‘I offered you a glass of wine, remember?’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Not today, Satan. Some of us have self-control and willpower.’
I pick up my phone and swipe the screen, suddenly keen to jump in the car and spend some quality time with my oldest child before he flies the nest and does whatever baby birds do when they’re ready to spread their wings and leave their mummies, which hopefully won’t involve too many failed attempts at flying or any lurking cats. But instead of the text that I am expecting from Dylan, requesting a lift home from his girlfriend’s house, the green WhatsApp icon shows a notification and a very tiny part of me dies inside.
I didn’t even want to be on WhatsApp in the first place. If the kids need me and I’m not within screeching distance then they text like every other normal person. But the Parent Teacher Association a
t Benji’s school decided that every class should have a private messaging group and Allegra, our terrifyingly efficient class representative and Chair of the PTA, made me join. I suppose that in some ways it’s quite useful – if I’d been part of the group chat last year then I’d at least have had a heads-up about bastarding World Book Day.
However, the positives are quite hard to remember when the negatives far outweigh them.
And the missive that has just slid into my DMs is about as negative as they get.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’ I read the words and then lower my phone to gape at Nick. ‘This is a new all-time low, even for Allegra.’
‘What’s wrong now?’ he asks half-heartedly. ‘Did she catch you trying to pass off shop-bought cake as your own again?’
‘It’s worse than that,’ I mutter, shaking my head. And then I read her message aloud, keeping my voice low so that I can’t be overheard.
‘Hannah. I would very much appreciate it if you would address Benji’s use of language. Auberon came home from school today and told me that Benji called him a penis. Yes. A penis. He says that Benji shouted it at him in front of the whole of Chestnut Class when they were in the playground at lunchtime, which means that we may very well have a large penis epidemic on our hands. I’m sure that you understand just how serious this is. Unfortunately, Ophelia’s ballet class had been cancelled so she heard everything and you know how impressionable six-year-olds can be. She’s now running around the house and shouting “You’re a penis” at the dog, which is upsetting for all of us. Please help – I’m at my wit’s end here.’
‘Bloody hell,’ murmurs Nick, when I’m finished. ‘That sounds like a right cock-up. What does a penis epidemic look like?’
‘She’s clearly unhinged,’ I say, putting down my phone. ‘But I can’t just ignore the situation, not if he’s going round saying rude things at school. God – what if he’s overheard us talking about the plot of More Than Sex? What if my writing is somehow corrupting him?’ I grimace and turn to face the kitchen door. ‘Benji! Can you come in here please?’
Faking It: The most hilarious and laugh out loud page turner you’ll read this year! Page 6