‘But why me?’
‘Why not you?’
Wrong answer, buddy.
‘You have pretty eyes,’ he said, rallying quickly. ‘I could see them sparkling from across the bar.’
Oh, God, thought Poppy, he’s grasping at straws here. And he knows he’s losing me. He reached a hand out to place it on Poppy’s waist and brought his mouth close to her ear. ‘You have a great body,’ he whispered, ‘even under your soccer gear I can tell. You have just the right amount of curves hiding under there. And a fantastic set of tits.’ He inched even closer still, his body pressed against hers. His breath warmed her neck. ‘I need to know,’ he said, ‘I need to know what they look like when they’re free of that . . . annoyingly constrictive sports bra.’ And his hand snuck its way up from her waist, his thumb brushed against the underside of her breast.
The anger dissipated and instead it was replaced with desire. Who cared why he was really doing it? Who cared if Annalise had pimped her out? Who cared if she was making a complete fool of herself and if she would hate herself in the morning?
She wanted to fuck. She wanted to be fucked – like she’d never been fucked before. By a stranger. With no chance of any kind of future between them. With no strings and no expectations.
‘Let’s go,’ she mumbled into his neck.
He took her by the hand and they weaved their way through the pub towards the exit. As they walked, Poppy could feel a set of eyes on her. She didn’t want to look. She didn’t want to see the judgement, but she couldn’t help herself – the gaze was boring into her. She glanced sideways and caught his eye.
She didn’t see judgement though. Or even amusement. She saw disappointment. And maybe even . . . hurt? Was he hurt? Why? She didn’t owe him anything. Besides, she’d come here tonight looking for one thing and one thing only. Didn’t that make her just as bad as Will? She looked away quickly and focused on what was waiting for her once they found their way to a bed. Her place or his? Didn’t matter. She just wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel desired. She needed to be touched. She craved the illusion of love.
Yasmine Hunter – Hi Ladies! I just wanted to share some special news with you all! Are you ready for it?!! Yep, you guessed it, I’m PREGNANT!!! I know! I can’t believe it either. I thought it was all over for me and John and TBH, because I thought we couldn’t have kids, I’d tried to shut myself off from everything to do with them, tried to convince myself I never wanted one in the first place. And can I just say, this group has been a godsend for me during this time. I felt like I was a part of something, like I wasn’t alone. Like I could move on. But now . . . Well, I guess it turns out I did still want a child, I guess all along that part of me was still there – I mean, the moment I saw the two blue lines, I was just shaking and crying . . . and oh, you should have seen John’s face – he wanted it too, maybe even more than me. Anyway, I hope you guys will be happy for me to still stay a member, right? Even though I no longer ‘qualify’, LOL! But considering the friendships I’ve forged with you all, I’d hope you guys wouldn’t want to throw all of that away. Hey, maybe I can kind of be the neutral spectator between us and ‘them’ – ‘them’ being the annoying parents of the world! I could be like Switzerland!! Love you guys. Xxx
CHAPTER 7
Earlier on, at the start of the year, in those first few weeks following the break-up, Poppy had received precisely three voicemails from Karleen. Each time, she waited until late at night, when she was sitting up in bed with some sort of alcoholic beverage on the table beside her before she put the phone to her ear, breathed in deeply and listened to the messages.
In the first, the tinny voice was kind, much kinder than it had been during the confrontation: ‘Poppy, I know this has been such a huge shock for you and I know we’ve hurt you badly. But if you can bring yourself around to seeing our side of things, if you can understand that we simply couldn’t turn our backs on love, then maybe we could all move past this and be friends. I do still love you, Poppy.’
Poppy’s heart had ached for the life she’d had before. For the nights she’d shared on the couch sitting between her husband and her oldest friend, watching a rented movie, passing around takeaway Thai or a pizza box. Back when those nights ended with Karleen heading home to her own place while Poppy took Garret by the hand and pulled him upstairs to bed. Back when they still made love. Back when no one had ripped the rug out from underneath her and her deepest concern about Karleen was helping her find the right man to settle down with. As much as Karleen’s request was wildly unreasonable, the most ridiculous thought had crossed her mind – was there a way she could have the two of them back in her life? Of course, the idea was absurd and it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
Then the second message came through, in which Karleen couldn’t help letting a hint of her usual crispness creep through. ‘Poppy, I can’t understand why you’re not returning my calls. You need to look at the bigger picture. Garret is wracked with guilt and it’s not fair on him. His intention was never to cause you any hurt. We’re all adults and there’s no reason why we can’t work this out. We’ve been friends a long time. Call me back. We need to talk.’
And then the third voicemail, in which her voice sounded resigned and tired: ‘All right, Poppy, I’ll leave you alone. But please, considering the history of our friendship, I just would have hoped you wouldn’t want to throw all of that away. Because I still think we should be able to find a way through all of this. So if you can find it in your heart to give us a chance, call me.’
Poppy had wanted to hurl her phone across her bedroom. The acute injustice of Karleen’s words was beyond comprehension. Why should it be on her to forgive them? Why should the weight of their lost friendship fall on her shoulders? She’d buried her face in her pillow, pummelled the mattress and let loose a guttural, primal scream of pure frustration and fury. How could she have been friends with Karleen for such a long time and never realised how horrendously selfish and insensitive the woman was?
So when the post from NOP member Yasmine had appeared in Poppy’s newsfeed and she’d read those words: Considering the friendships I’ve forged with you all, I’d hope you guys wouldn’t want to throw all of that away – something inside Poppy had snapped. It was the day after her night out on the pull and she was feeling seedy from having drunk far too much. Reading someone’s joyous pregnancy announcement was the last thing she was in the mood for. She snatched up her phone and marched downstairs to the warehouse, glad to escape the dry air-conditioned hell of the office above.
Now, she and Annalise were sitting side by side on a pallet, hidden between two large piles of stock. Poppy had kicked off her heels to place her stockinged feet on the cool concrete floor and Annalise hadn’t pulled her up on the OH&S rules. Annalise’s feet were encased in steel-cap work boots and she’d crossed her legs beneath her. ‘Here,’ said Poppy, passing Annalise her phone. ‘Have you seen this post yet?’
Annalise started reading and Poppy almost held her breath as she waited. Her shoulders and back muscles squeezed together involuntarily. A part of her was scared she might think it wasn’t such a big deal, that she wouldn’t understand why it had upset Poppy so much.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ Annalise finally said. ‘I can’t believe she wants to stay a member.’
Poppy’s body relaxed.
‘I mean, you put up a reminder a week ago when we started getting requests from women who thought we were some kind of support group for infertile people,’ Annalise continued. ‘Your whole idea was to reach people who don’t ever want kids, not women who thought they couldn’t and then suddenly do. There’s no way she deserves to stay. It’s not like we’re all going to get excited about her stupid baby announcements.’
‘Totally!’ Poppy tried to keep her voice steady. She didn’t want Annalise to see how emotional she’d felt about this entire situation. She was embarrassed about how much it had got to her. ‘She can always go and join MOP anyway, right?�
��
‘Exactly. Don’t worry about it. I’ll boot her from the group.’
‘Do you think we’ve let NOP get too big? Maybe we need to be more selective with who we let in.’
‘Yeah, you could be right. I guess we have started to relax our approval process, haven’t we? Don’t let it stress you, we can get back on top of it.
‘Thanks, Lise.’
‘All right. I’ve been patient but I can’t stand it anymore, aren’t you going to tell me?”
‘Tell you what?’
‘Don’t be obtuse. You know what. How did it go with Will last night?’
‘Oh. That. Well . . . I went home with him.’
‘And?’
‘And . . . we made it as far as his apartment, and we’d just got out of the cab when I felt a lurch and next thing I was throwing up in the gutter.’
‘Oh no! Poppy, you lightweight.’
‘Lightweight? You’re kidding me, right? We were downing doubles all night. I can’t believe I didn’t throw up sooner.’
‘So what happened next?’
‘He called it a night and put me straight back in the cab.’
‘I’m surprised the cabbie let you back in.’
‘Me too.’
‘So are you disappointed he didn’t offer to hold your hair back and nurse you all night long?’
Poppy laughed. ‘No, I’m not stupid. I know we were only going back there for one thing. It’s a shame he didn’t even ask for my number though.’
‘But I thought you were only after a one-night stand, weren’t you? Shit, you didn’t start to fall for him or something, did you?’
‘No, no, of course not.’
Poppy sighed and rested her head on Annalise’s shoulder. She badly needed a Berocca.
A voice called out from down the end of the aisle. ‘Annalise? You about?’
Annalise grabbed hold of Poppy’s arm and yanked her backwards, making her pull her feet up onto the pallet and out of sight. ‘Shh,’ she said. ‘That was fucking Frankie. If she sees us hiding out here she’ll probably run and dob us in to her boyfriend.’
Poppy stifled a laugh and they waited quietly until they heard her high heels clip-clop away.
‘She’s going to wonder where you are,’ said Poppy.
‘Who cares.’
They sat quietly for a few more minutes before Poppy eventually stretched and started to shuffle forward to get up off the pallet. ‘Guess I should go back upstairs.’
‘You want to catch a movie tonight?’ Annalise said, putting her hands out so Poppy could pull her to her feet. ‘I usually like to do my own thing on Tuesdays but I can make an exception this once. Plus, discount tickets. You in?’
‘Yeah, why not.’
CHAPTER 8
The cinema complex was decked out in crudely cut cardboard love hearts and red crepe-paper streamers. They were showing re-runs of classic romance movies. Poppy and Annalise made their choice based on a process of elimination, taking turns striking off the least likely contenders one by one.
‘The Holiday is a no for me, I can’t handle Jack Black.’
‘So is Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Used to be my fave but Garret and I watched it together on our first date.’
‘I’m not doing Notting Hill either. Never been a fan of Julia Roberts.’
Eventually they found they were left with Love Actually. Poppy would have preferred something with some action or adventure, but this was going to have to do.
As they bought a large popcorn to share, a packet of Maltesers and a couple of soft drinks, Poppy wondered if she should confess to Annalise before the movie started. She wasn’t entirely sure what had made her lie to her that morning, but the truth was, she hadn’t stuffed things up at the forty-yard line with Will the previous evening. She’d headed down to the warehouse ready to give Annalise all the details of the previous night’s tryst, just as Annalise always told Poppy about her own escapades with Lawrence. But at the last minute she’d changed her mind and instead told the fabricated version of events.
Maybe it was the guy at the pub who’d warned her about Will. Maybe he’d got into her head when he’d said Annalise wasn’t a good friend for offering her up to Will on a platter, and Poppy didn’t want to give Annalise the satisfaction of knowing her technique had succeeded. But now she felt funny about her lie.
The real story was that once they’d made it back to Will’s place, the cab had pulled away and Will had taken Poppy inside. She was drunk, he was drunk, and she hadn’t slept with anyone apart from Garret in more than nine years. So she couldn’t say it was sexy or sweet or romantic. She couldn’t even say it was mind-blowing – although it did hit the spot, or he did, so to speak. Instead, it was fumbly and messy and at times awkward, but it was fun. It was new and different, and it woke her up.
When they kissed, it was hard and fast with tongues sliding, exploring. She hadn’t been undressed by a man in years. When she and Garret had sex, they’d both strip down under the covers and then turn to one another. But Will tore at her clothes, wrenched her sports bra up over her head and leaned down to take one of her nipples in his mouth while the bra still had her arms trapped together above her head.
She elbowed him in the face when she tried to get his shirt off and he caught his watch in her hair. When he first went down on her, she was self-conscious about her lack of maintenance down below for all of three seconds before she was overcome by pleasure, and when she returned the favour, she experimented with her tongue in ways she’d never considered with Garret.
Their foreplay didn’t last long and Will had barely pulled on the condom in time before he slid himself inside her and Poppy found herself digging her fingernails into his flesh as the both of them moaned together.
Afterwards, it was hard to know how she really felt about the entire experience. The first man she’d been with since her husband left her. Was she ashamed? Did she feel dirty? Or did she feel empowered? Fulfilled and content? She was a single woman – she had every right to sleep with whoever she wanted. But the question was, had he actually wanted her, or was he only interested because Annalise had painted her as an easy target?
As she gathered up her things, dressed herself in the dark and crept from his apartment, Poppy found herself thinking of the man at the pub who’d tried to warn her. Did knowing Will’s reasons for sleeping with her take away from the pleasure of what she’d just experienced? If she was honest, yes, of course it did. Didn’t anyone want to feel desired for who they were?
But still, she’d needed what Will had given her. She’d needed it to open her back up to the possibilities of being with a man other than Garret. It was a new beginning. And that’s why she’d forgiven Annalise for setting her up behind her back. That’s why she’d chosen not to call her out on it.
* * *
In the cinema, as they waited for the previews to start, Annalise grabbed Poppy’s cup of lemonade and removed the lid. ‘Here,’ she whispered, ‘special surprise for you,’ and she tipped in vodka from a flask she’d been hiding inside her handbag.
‘Annalise!’ Poppy hissed. ‘We’re not teenagers. We could just wait and go for a drink after the movie. I swear to God, I think you may have a problem.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ She giggled before touching her cup to Poppy’s. ‘Cheers,’ she said. ‘Pass the popcorn.’
Two-thirds of the way through the movie, Emma Thompson was figuring out that her husband had bought another woman an expensive necklace and Annalise was whispering to Poppy that she ought to kick him in the nuts, when Poppy’s phone started buzzing in her back pocket. She shifted slightly and pulled it out from under her butt to try to take a discreet look at the screen, then glanced sideways as she realised Annalise was doing the same with her own phone. Poppy saw that it was a NOP notification and pocketed it to check it later. Annalise was still looking at hers and a moment later she nudged Poppy.
‘Bathroom,’ she whispered, and stood up, ducked her head low and tu
rned sideways to shift past her and along the row of seats.
Later that night Poppy remembered the notification and went to look for the message. But once again it had vanished.
THE IMPOSTER
It’s possible she’d already taken it too far. She was connecting with these women on a personal level – commenting on their lives, offering advice – as if she knew what they were going through, as if she understood. When in fact, she had no right. But she couldn’t leave. It was like she was involved in an online role-playing game. Single Lady. Child-free. Disposable income. Nothing holding her back, nothing tying her down. It was intoxicating.
Besides, she’d come here with a purpose, she had a job to do. So what if she’d got a little caught up in her role while she was playing along, gathering information? If she wanted to be good at her task, then getting involved to this extent was probably exactly what she needed to do.
And if she could have a little fun at the same time, then so be it.
PART TWO
Annalise
NOP MESSAGES
Inbox
Inga Fallon
This group is hideous. A friend told me all you do is bitch about us mums? Fuck you, we don’t need your judgement. Bitter much? Get over yourselves and stop whingeing. You’ll get it one day. One day you’ll have kids and you’ll understand how hard it is. And I wish I could be there to tell you I told you so.
CHAPTER 9
Annalise wasn’t overly concerned when the first message came through. At the time, she had no idea it was the start of something bigger. She was in the middle of coaxing Will into hitting on Poppy when her phone had lit up on the bar in front of her. She was so glad she’d decided to look straightaway, because it gave her the chance to get rid of it before Poppy saw it.
Those Other Women Page 8