Chapter Twenty-One
With Jacob staying at friends for the evening and my mum and dad out for dinner, Jack and I have done what any other sensible newlyweds would do with a free house – moved all the furniture so we can practise our dance routine. I’m scared to admit it in case I jinx things, but under Jack’s guidance, I feel like I’m actually getting pretty good at it.
I’ve quizzed him about his dancing skills and he’s finally explained he attended cotillion classes, at the request of his dad, who wanted him to grow up, get a good job and find a nice wife to look after him when he was no longer around.
Other than getting out of him the reason he’s such a good dancer, Jack has been quite quiet since earlier. Not just uncharacteristically quiet for Jack, but quiet for a person generally, so that’s especially quiet for Jack. I’m worried our show-stealing kiss has made things awkward, but for someone who doesn’t seem that into commitment, kissing someone without any feelings attached should be easy.
‘I really appreciate the lessons,’ I tell him as we sweep around the living-room floor.
‘That’s OK,’ he replies casually, giving me a half-smile. ‘I’m getting pretty sick of hearing this song, though.’
‘Me, too,’ I reply. ‘It’s a beautiful song, just not twenty-seven times in a row. Let’s take a break.’
We both plonk ourselves down on the sofa. I grab my bottle of water and sip, wracking my brains for something to say. If there’s one thing I’m not used to with Jack, it’s awkward silences.
‘So, what’s the next step in your scheme?’ he asks.
‘I thought I might go round and see Howard, offer him a few dance lessons,’ I say proudly, like I’m the smartest master-deceiver alive.
‘Hilarious,’ Jack replies, not sounding at all amused. ‘So, you go over there, you get close dancing with him, you kiss him like we kissed earlier?’
‘Not exactly,’ I laugh nervously. Why does he seem so annoyed? He knows the plan. ‘Howard is a good man, he wouldn’t kiss me until he knew you and I were over.’
‘So you’re just teasing him until our fake argument?’
‘I wouldn’t say teasing,’ I insist, just as my phone rings. Saved by the bell.
‘Hello, Sue,’ I chirp.
‘Hey, Gi, fancy going out tonight?’
‘Oh, man, I can’t tonight, I’m afraid,’ I lie. ‘I’m just so exhausted from dancing all day.’
I fake a yawn for good measure.
‘Good, well, if you don’t fancy going out tonight… me and our Rob do. We thought we’d have a romantic night out, so we wondered if you would babysit the little ones for us. You can bring Jack.’
With no excuse to get me out of it now, all I can do is say yes.
‘We’d love to,’ I lie. ‘What time do you want me there?’
‘See you at seven. And we’re planning a late one, so bring something to entertain yourself – I imagine Jack is enough.’
‘Great,’ I reply with fake enthusiasm. ‘See you at seven.’
‘Change of plan,’ I tell Jack. ‘We’re babysitting tonight.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
‘We are not in Kansas any more,’ Jack muses, glancing around the neighbourhood as we walk up the driveway to Sue’s house. We’re in Brightside – Jack’s first glimpse of a good old-fashioned British council estate, and my first time here since I was a teen. It hasn’t changed a bit.
I knock on the door and it’s Rob who answers. Given my recent makeover, it seems to take him a second to realise who I am.
‘Wow, you look amazing,’ he blurts at me, just as Sue walks down the stairs behind him.
‘Thank you, babes,’ she replies, shooting me an evil look. ‘That skirt is a bit short, isn’t it, Gi?’
‘Yours is shorter,’ I reply, immediately wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.
‘Yeah, well, everyone in this room has already seen my fanny,’ she says sharply. Her kids hear the word fanny and start giggling – to be honest, even I’m struggling to keep a straight face, but that’s probably because I can hear Jack sniggering behind me.
‘Do you want me and the kids to leave you two alone?’ Sue snaps at Rob. I have been vaguely aware of his eyes being fixated on my legs since I got here, but I’ve been trying to ignore it.
‘This is Jack,’ I tell Rob, ushering my big, buff fiancé in his direction, hopefully scaring him into not looking at me like he is.
‘All right, pal,’ Rob says, squaring his body to try and measure up. Sadly, the years haven’t been kind to him. While his hair has receded, his belly has advanced.
‘I’ll wait outside,’ Rob says sheepishly as he heads for the door.
‘Well, you two have fun,’ I tell Sue. ‘We’ll be fine.’
‘You two have fun, too,’ she says, before pulling me in for a hug and whispering into my ear, ‘Just don’t have sex in front of my kids.’
I hadn’t planned on it.
‘Be good, kids,’ Sue sings as they leave, but her kids totally ignore her, too busy eating spaghetti hoops.
‘So, who do we have here?’ Jack says when we’re finally alone.
‘Kids, this is Jack,’ I tell them. ‘Jack, why don’t you ask the kids what their names are?’ I suggest, delighted to finally have a covert way of finding out myself. I absolutely will remember them this time.
I mentioned to him on the walk over here that I couldn’t remember their names and, like the dutiful husband he is, he promised to help me find out.
‘I’m April,’ the girl replies, continuing to shovel spaghetti hoops into her mouth. ‘And this is Peter.’
‘Nice to meet you both,’ Jack replies.
They’re actually quite nice, normal names. I seem to remember laughing on both occasions when I saw on Facebook what Sue had named her kids, but I must be remembering it wrong. Maybe I should write their names down somewhere this time.
‘You OK, Peter?’ I ask, because he’s being awfully quiet.
Peter stares at me blankly as he attempts to put a huge spoonful of food in his mouth and ends up spilling it all over his shirt.
‘We should probably get him cleaned up,’ I say to Jack, but April grabs my hand and drags me towards the kitchen.
‘We have to feed my fish before bed,’ she tells me.
‘Can you sort Peter out?’ I call back to Jack. ‘I’ve got fish to feed.’
I can’t help but chuckle as April drags me to the kitchen. I don’t spend much time around kids and I’d forgotten how bossy they can be.
‘That’s Louis,’ she tells me, pointing to one of the little orange goldfish swimming around in a bowl in the kitchen. ‘That’s Niall, that’s Liam, that’s Harry and that’s Zayn. No, that’s Zayn and that’s Harry.’
I can safely say all five fish are exactly the same colour and exactly the same size, so I’ve no idea how she can tell them apart so easily.
‘They’re lovely,’ I tell her. ‘Do you want me to give them some food?’
‘No, I can do it,’ April insists. ‘I’m not a baby, you know.’
April hovers the tub of food above the bowl and I can just tell that something bad is going to happen.
‘Just a pinch,’ she says, but her hand tips too far and the whole tub empties out into the water. April squeals at what she’s just done and drops the container into the water, too. ‘Oh no,’ she cries. ‘You have to get the food out or they’ll die!’
‘OK, don’t panic,’ I tell her as I eyeball the dirty water cautiously. I really don’t want to put my hand in there, so I glance around the room for something to scoop it out with. I spy an ashtray on the kitchen worktop, so I dump the contents into the bin and use that to scoop out some of the food.
‘No, stop, stop, you’re going to give them cancer!’ April cries as she grabs the edge of the bowl and attempts to pull it from me.
‘April, don’t,’ I call out, but it’s too late. The plastic bowl hits the hard floor and snaps in two, leaving One Direction’s fishy
counterparts dancing around on the kitchen floor.
April freezes and stares at her dying fish for a few seconds before letting out the longest, highest-pitched scream I have ever heard in my life.
‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit,’ I say as I frantically search the cupboards for something else to put the fish in. But there’s nothing. With no other options, I put the plug in the kitchen sink and turn on the tap, then carefully pick up the fish one at a time and drop them in. Just as I’m placing the last fish in the sink (I think it’s Niall) Jack comes running in.
‘I heard the scream, is everything OK?’ he asks.
‘I think we’re all OK,’ I reply. Although my clothes certainly aren’t; they’re soaked in disgusting fishbowl water.
‘We’re not OK,’ April says angrily. ‘She tried to give my fish cancer.’
‘Wow,’ Jack replies. ‘You’re terrible with children.’
‘I didn’t try to…’ As I turn round I am rendered speechless by the sight of Jack, who has spaghetti hoops smeared all over the tight, muscle-hugging, light-grey T-shirt he arrived in.
We stare at each other’s ruined clothes for a moment, neither of us saying a word. April, who is also soaked in fishbowl water, stands between us, looking at me, then looking at Jack.
As I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall I realise it has been just ten minutes since Rob and Sue left, and it is at this point that Peter walks into the kitchen, covered head to toe in spaghetti hoops.
And so, I laugh. I laugh hysterically, Jack starts laughing, April roars with laughter and even Peter starts giggling.
‘Right,’ I say with my newfound authority. ‘We need to get this cleaned up.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
After getting April and Peter cleaned up and changed, Jack and I take it in turns to wash and take off out dirty clothes. I’ve hand-washed Jack’s T-shirt to the best of my ability and left it to dry in the airing cupboard, and with my skirt and top pretty much ruined by the filthy, germ-filled water, Jack has kindly offered me his zip-up hoodie to wear, so I’m currently making that do as a dress, and Jack is wandering around shirtless.
I tuck April in as Jack lifts Peter into his bed. Peter has a puzzled look on his face.
‘What’s up, kid?’ Jack asks.
‘Why do you have boobies?’ Peter asks him.
‘They’re not boobies,’ Jack tells him proudly. ‘They’re pecs.’
This reply does not satisfy Peter, who starts giggling again.
‘Jack has boobies, Jack has boobies,’ he sings. ‘Men don’t have boobies, but you have boobies.’
‘His dad has boobies,’ Jack whispers to me, obviously annoyed he was checking me out before. ‘I preferred him when he was silent, but violent with a spoon.’
‘Jack has boobies, Jack has boobies,’ Peter continues to sing, with April soon joining in.
‘If he wasn’t a kid I’d have punched him by now,’ Jack jokes under his breath.
‘Jack, you can’t fight a six-year-old.’
‘Why not?’ he laughs. ‘I’d win.’
‘Oi, kid, what’s that behind your ear?’ Jack asks Peter as he reaches behind his head, his hand re-emerging with a pound coin in it.
‘Whoa,’ April gasps. ‘Do I have anything in my ears?’
‘Well, let’s see,’ he says, walking over to her bed before repeating the same trick. ‘Yeah, here you go.’
Both kids are absolutely delighted with their money, so much so they stop singing and start behaving.
Jack has had the foresight to order a pizza, so we’re not back downstairs for very long before it arrives, which is great because I’m starving. As I grab the plates, Jack rummages around in the box of DVDs next to the TV and picks out something funny for us to watch.
I sit next to Jack on the sofa and watch him as he eats his pizza and laughs at the TV. I have to admit, he has the most gorgeous smile I have ever seen and I don’t think there’s anything more attractive than when he laughs. His dimples get more pronounced and his eyes just light up. A muscular, shirtless man with a gorgeous smile, eating pizza, is every girl’s fantasy, right? My God, even his muscles have muscles. I suppose I can’t blame him for getting with chick after chick. Pulling must be almost too easy for him.
Jack looks at me and catches me staring, but he’s too polite to say anything.
‘You OK?’ he asks.
‘I guess,’ I reply. ‘I’m doing my best, working with what I’ve got and all that, but things are just such a mess. And it’s tough being around so much wedding stuff.’
‘I know,’ he says sympathetically. ‘Here.’
Jack stretches out an arm and wraps it around me. As we watch the movie he strokes my hair gently to comfort me and I feel myself melt. This is probably the most relaxed I’ve felt since I got here, so relaxed that my eyes are feeling heavy…
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘What’s going on here?’ I hear a man’s voice bellow. For a moment, I forget where I am, and I’m confused by the unfamiliar voice.
Opening my eyes I realise I’m still at Rob and Sue’s. The movie must have finished because the TV is still on, but the screen has gone to black, and at some point Jack and I must have fallen asleep because we’re still cuddled up on the sofa. Jack looks like he’s just woken up, too – I imagine the same thing woke us both up: Rob and Sue standing over us, looking seriously unimpressed.
‘You told me you wouldn’t have sex in front of my kids,’ Sue says angrily.
‘We needed someone to hold the camera,’ Jack jokes, so I give him a nudge. Now is not the time or place for inappropriate jokes.
‘Sue, that’s not what’s been going on here at all,’ I assure her. Glancing down at myself in nothing but a hoodie, then at Jack with his shirt off, I can understand them jumping to the conclusion they have, having found us asleep on the sofa like this.
‘We had an accident,’ I explain. ‘April said we needed to feed her fish, so I went to help her, Jack stayed with Peter, who got food all over himself and Jack, and while that was happening April knocked her fishbowl over – which broke, by the way, and they’re currently swimming around in your sink. Our clothes got ruined, it’s been crazy.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Sue asks. She looks completely lost and so does Rob.
I just stare at them for a moment. I realise I babbled my way through that explanation, but I don’t know how I can convey the sequence of events any more plainly.
‘April is cute,’ Jack says, breaking the awkward silence. ‘And Peter is funny, he ran rings round me.’
‘Who are April and Peter?’ Rob asks.
Jack and I look at each other for a moment.
‘Your kids?’ I reply, but it sounds more like a question than an answer.
Rob and Sue burst into laughter.
‘Is that what they told you their names were?’ Sue cackles.
‘Sonique, our girl, is going through a bit of a Spider-Man phase,’ Rob explains. ‘And our boy is called Roberto Junior.’
Both Jack and I laugh hysterically. I’m laughing at the misunderstanding, but also at the fact they named their kids Sonique and Roberto Junior – I knew they had bizarre names.
‘Well, that explains why he didn’t listen to me when I said “Peter, please don’t cover me in spaghetti”,’ Jack reasons with a laugh.
With Sue satisfied I haven’t been getting it on in front of her kids, she grabs me by the hand.
‘Come with me,’ she insists. ‘I’ll give you some clothes to wear home.’
As Sue drags me out of the room I hear Rob say to Jack, ‘Well, you’re not borrowing any of my clothes.’
‘Well, they wouldn’t fit me, would they?’ Jack replies, the hostility between them as strong as it was earlier.
I sit on Sue’s bed and watch as she riffles through her wardrobe for something to send me home in. That way I can give Jack his hoodie back and he won’t have to go home shirtless.
‘Georgie, I’m goi
ng to tell you this because I’m your friend and I only want what’s best for you, OK?’
I nod my head.
‘At school you were this free spirit. You were one of those stupid hippies – no offence – who would walk around fields without shoes on and you didn’t care what people thought or what your clothes looked like. But you’ve come back and – no offence – you’re a snob. Kaz and I can’t believe how stuck up you are now. It’s your clothes, it’s the way you talk, we can see you looking down on us and on everything around us and it’s not cool.’
I am taken aback by her sudden and outrageous attack on my character, given that we’ve only spent one evening together since I got back. They’ve obviously painted this picture of me based on nothing but my social media presence, but surely everyone knows that no one has the life they pretend to on social media? Even my presence here with Jack is all a sham, too. I’m just putting up whatever pretty front I think people will be impressed by, and none of it is true. I’m just a walking, talking lie of an Instagram picture – one that was taken along with two hundred others to get the perfect shot, and is now heavily distorted with a beautiful, misleading filter.
I love it when people say ‘no offence’ when what they actually mean is ‘I’m about to say something majorly offensive’.
‘Sometimes, when you’re around Jack, I see the old Georgie shining through. I don’t know why you’re trying to hide her.’
I’m not trying to hide her. I’ve just reconditioned myself to be this perfect young lady, the kind semi-famous orchestral pianists ask to marry them. It’s hard to drop the act.
‘You think you’re better than us because you live in LA and you’ve got a hot boyfriend with a good job? Rob is a contender for the manager’s position at McDonald’s in town, so you’re not the only one with stuff happening. You just need to remind yourself that you’re no better than the rest of us,’ she concludes. ‘OK?’
The Accidental Honeymoon Page 13