‘This cauliflower cheese is fantastic,’ Neil said, helping himself to more. ‘Just like Mum used to make.’
‘Claire’s a great cook,’ Espie said, smiling at her daughter.
‘I often wish I had the time to cook more,’ Michelle said. ‘But I’m far too busy to make elaborate dinners. I’m chauffeuring the kids around all week, making lunches, cleaning up after them, getting the homework done and a million other things. By the time the weekend comes around, I’m too knackered for anything other than a pizza delivery. Honestly, no one has any idea the amount of work us mums do.’
‘I can’t begin to imagine,’ Espie said drily.
Michelle had the grace to blush. ‘I don’t know how you coped with three, Espie – and all on your own!’
‘Well, we didn’t make such a song and dance about parenting in my day. We just got on with it. It probably helped that we didn’t have to alert the media every time our child had a poo or did something cute.’
Claire wrapped her mouth around a forkful of food to hide her smile. But Luca laughed, earning a scowl from Michelle.
‘Well, things were simpler, then, I suppose,’ Michelle said. ‘You didn’t have the same pressures. The world was a lot safer too – you could let your children run wild and not worry about where they were or who they were with.’
‘Yes, that’s what I did,’ Espie said to Luca, with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Let my children run around like wild animals while I lay about drinking gin and smoking joints. Those were the days!’
‘And look how well we all turned out,’ Ronan said, and Claire smiled. He always tried to be the peacemaker.
Espie was very taken with Luca, as Claire had known she would be. She had some of her old spark about her as she talked, enlivened and invigorated by the novelty of him. She was clearly enchanted by his roguish charm and his laid-back friendly manner, but Claire was shocked to hear her inviting him to their Friday-night card game.
‘You probably have better things to do on a Friday night than play cards with a bunch of old fogeys,’ she said, ‘but Claire will be here. And there’ll be cake.’
She was even more surprised to hear Luca accept.
‘You don’t have to come on Friday,’ she told him later, as she saw him out.
‘I want to,’ he said. ‘I like your mum.’
‘She likes you.’
‘Well, I’ll talk to you during the week, yeah? Phone sex?’
‘Oh, phone sex!’ She’d forgotten about that.
‘If you want to,’ he said, watching her face.
‘I suppose we should. I mean, Mark lives in London, so …’ Not only did Mark live in London but he often went away on business trips. He probably would expect them to have phone sex at some point, particularly when she’d made out she was such a fan.
‘And you’ve made it sound pretty hot in your blog.’
‘How about tomorrow night, say around eight? Holby City’s on, so Mum will be occupied for an hour then.’
‘Eight it is. Don’t forget your vibrator.’
‘My … Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. I figured I’d just use my …’ She raised a hand.
‘Well, it’s up to you. I just assumed, since you used one in your blog—’
‘Mm.’ She chewed her lip. ‘The thing is, I don’t have one.’
‘You’ve never used one?’
‘No. I should probably get one, shouldn’t I?’
‘I think you should. Even if you don’t get it for the phone sex, you should probably get some experience at using one.’
‘Okay. I’ll buy one for tomorrow night.’
‘Talk to you then.’
‘Oh, I like Luca,’ her mother said later, when everyone had gone and it was just the two of them. ‘I like him very much.’
‘He’s lovely, isn’t he?’
‘And so good-looking. You’ve obviously been holding out on me big-time, my girl. So tell all.’
‘There’s nothing to tell, Mum. We really are just friends.’ ‘Well, that’s a pity.’
Claire shrugged.
‘It’s a real shame,’ Espie said, as Claire began to load the dishwasher. ‘Oh, and just so you know …’
‘Yes?’ Claire looked up.
‘I don’t buy that cock-and-bull story about performance-art classes for a minute.’
Chapter Twenty-one
Hanging Out on the Telephone
The call comes in at three a.m. I’ve been expecting it. Mr Bossy has gone to Chicago on business, and we have a ‘date’ tonight – in other words, we’re doing phone sex.
I’ve been looking forward to his call, and just hearing his voice excites me. He opens with the classic ‘What are you wearing?’ Now, the thing about phone sex is you don’t have to make any effort. You can lie. You can sit there in a face mask and flannel pyjamas, and say you’re wearing a bustier and crotchless knickers, and your lover won’t know the difference. But I think that’s cheating – and, besides, this is for me too, so I want to feel sexy. I’ve set a mood. I’ve taken a long, luxurious bath. The bedroom is lit by candles, music is playing softly and I’ve been sipping a glass of champagne while I wait for his call. I had a Hollywood wax today, and got my hair done, just as if I was going on a real date. And when he asks what I’m wearing I’m telling the truth when I describe the black chiffon baby-doll he likes so much with the matching G-string. I chose it deliberately so he can picture me clearly. He’s seen me in it many times and knows just how much cleavage it shows, and that he can see my body through the sheer material.
When I ask, he tells me he’s wearing silk pyjama bottoms. I smile, knowing he’s worn them to please me because I like to watch him undress. I tell him I wish he was here to touch me, and he says I’ll have to stand in for him, please myself the way he would if he were here.
‘Lie back on the bed,’ he says, ‘and take off your knickers.’
I do as he tells me, wriggling out of the G-string while holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder.
‘Spread your legs,’ he says, and I do. Since I can’t give him an actual visual, I do the next best thing. I tell him that I got waxed today and I am completely bare. I describe how soft and smooth my skin feels, and he groans into the phone.
‘Oh, baby, I wish I could see you right now. Touch yourself for me.’
I start to stroke myself. ‘Are you wet?’ he asks, and his voice is thick and hoarse.
‘Yes,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so wet.’
‘I’m so hard for you, baby.’
‘Show me,’ I say. I hear rustling and I know he’s pulling off his pyjama bottoms. I can imagine his cock – I know how hard and thick his erection is. I can see him in his Chicago hotel room, naked and beautiful, and the longing is almost unbearable. ‘I want you so much,’ I whimper.
‘Ssh, baby, I know. I want you too.’ I take off the baby-doll on his instructions, and we’re naked together, separated by an ocean. He tells me what he would do if he were here, how he would touch me, and I touch myself the same way. I hold the vibrator close to the phone when I switch it on, knowing it’s a turn-on for him.
‘Let me hear you,’ he says, when I come, and I’m loud, gasping and screaming into the phone. A moment later he comes and I hear his groan across the miles, feel it deep inside me. I lie back on the bed, panting as the little aftershocks course through me. For a moment we lie there in silence, listening to each other breathe.
‘So, how was your day?’ he asks eventually, and we start a low, murmured conversation that soothes me.
‘Sleep now,’ he says at last, in that masterful way of his. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow – same time, same place.’
‘I’ll be here,’ I say.
I can’t wait …
‘So, Luca’s your fuck buddy!’ Yvonne didn’t waste much time before cutting to the chase the following day. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Just in the past few weeks.’
‘And you’ve been seeing him? Like, more than
once or twice? Unbelievable!’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Claire said drily.
‘Sorry – no offence. It’s just Luca doesn’t usually like to repeat himself, if you know what I mean.’
‘Well, it’s not serious or anything.’
‘I know that,’ Yvonne said. ‘I mean, it’s Luca.’
Her dismissive tone was getting on Claire’s nerves, but she stopped herself jumping in and defending Luca because she knew Yvonne would take it the wrong way. Still, at least now that it was out in the open, she didn’t have to think of an excuse to talk about him with Yvonne.
‘What’s his surname, by the way?’ she asked.
‘Why?’ Yvonne narrowed her eyes suspiciously. ‘What do you want it for?’
‘What do you think I want it for?’ Claire laughed. ‘Identity theft? It’s not top secret, is it?’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I will. I just keep forgetting.’ And it wasn’t really the sort of thing you could ask someone mid-shag. It seemed a bit late at that stage to be worrying that you hadn’t been properly introduced. She’d have to pay more attention to the signatures on his paintings the next time she was in his flat.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you,’ Yvonne said. ‘But I’d better not find you doodling it in your copybook and trying it out with your own name.’
‘Promise,’ Claire said, rolling her eyes.
‘It’s Ffrench-Carroll.’
‘Hmm,’ Claire smiled, cocking her head thoughtfully. ‘Claire Ffrench-Carroll. That has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?’
‘Don’t make me regret telling you.’
‘Mrs Ffrench-Carroll. Luca and Claire Ffrench-Carroll. Where’s my copybook? I feel a doodle coming on.’
‘Seriously, Claire—’
‘You’re too easy.’ Claire grinned. ‘He mentioned that his mother had written a book, and I thought I might check it out. That’s all, okay? Nothing sinister.’
‘Oh! Yeah, she wrote a book about Luca,’ Yvonne said, grimacing as if she’d detected a bad smell.
‘It’s about adopting Luca and his sister, isn’t it?’
‘Well, that comes into it. But it’s mainly about how she wasn’t able to bond with Luca and never felt any connection with him.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘It was a big bestseller at the time, apparently. I vaguely remember my mum talking about it. It was quite controversial. She got a lot of praise for being so open and honest about her feelings. But some people thought she shouldn’t have written it – including Luca. It’s a very touchy subject with him.’
‘I’m not surprised. That’s horrible.’
‘I know. It must be awful to have your mother telling the whole world that she doesn’t love you.’
‘What’s it called?’
‘The Stolen Child. And her name is Jacqueline Ffrench, if you want to look it up. The Carroll bit is his dad.’
‘This came for you,’ Tom said, emerging from the back room and handing Claire a large parcel.
‘Oh, thanks,’ she said, taking it from him. It felt like books, but she couldn’t imagine who would be sending her books when she worked in a bookshop. Curious, she opened it carefully. She gasped as she lifted out a beautiful, cloth-bound limited edition set of Dorothy L. Sayers’ mysteries in an illustrated slip cover. She didn’t have to open the card inside to know who they were from. It simply read: ‘Thought of you and found these. Mark x’
At ten minutes to eight that evening, Claire sat on the end of her bed trying to relax. But it had been rather stressful getting ready for tonight, and instead of feeling sexy, she just felt frazzled. She had gone for a bikini wax at lunchtime, deciding she should make an effort. Reading over one of her blog posts about phone sex, it seemed unfair, disrespectful even, not to go to the same trouble for Luca as she had for the fictional Mr Bossy. But it was a lot easier to write about this stuff than it was to achieve it in real life. She had barely had time to squeeze in the salon visit at lunchtime and hadn’t been able to grab a sandwich.
Then she’d had the ordeal of vibrator shopping after work. It had taken her ages to get up the nerve to go into the shop, and all her dithering meant that she had got home late. The weather had turned bitterly cold, and fighting her way home against a vicious wind had only added to her weariness. She cooked and ate dinner with her mother, and had only just finished clearing up in time for Holby City. It was a solitary pleasure for Espie, so Claire didn’t have to make any excuses for holing up in her room. But she had no time for a long, leisurely bath or even a quick shower before it was time to sit on the bed and wait for Luca’s call. She poured herself a glass of wine and brought it up to her room, hoping it would help her relax and get in the mood.
She was sure her mother wouldn’t budge for the next hour, but she took the precaution of locking her bedroom door anyway. Then she took a big gulp of wine, set the glass on top of the dresser, and set about finding something to wear. As she frantically opened drawers, rooting through piles of M&S cotton knickers and black woolly tights, she felt hot and bothered, but not in a remotely sexy way. Unfortunately, her underwear collection bore absolutely no resemblance to that of her alter ego. There were no see-through baby-dolls or lacy G-strings. There was nothing here that would give any self-respecting bloke so much as a semi. She wished she could just get into her pyjamas. But she wanted to do this properly.
Deciding that bra and pants was the best she could do, she quickly stripped and put on her nicest set. It was more pretty than sexy, but it would have to do. Besides, it’s what underneath that counts, she told herself, and at least she’d had the bikini wax. She had even let the beautician go higher than usual though she hadn’t had the nerve for a full Brazilian. She sprayed some perfume between her breasts and sat on the edge of the bed with her mobile beside her. She was just pulling her new vibrator out of its bag when the phone rang, but instead of Luca, the caller display showed that it was Mark. She had planned to call him later to thank him for his present when she wasn’t feeling so flustered.
‘Hi, Mark!’ She tried to inject some calm into her voice. ‘Thank you so much for the books. I love them!’
‘Ah, they arrived. Good.’
‘Yeah, I was going to call you later. I—’ She was interrupted by the beep of call waiting. ‘Sorry, there’s another call. Do you mind?’
‘I won’t keep you. I just wanted to tell you that I’m planning a trip to Dublin next Saturday – if that’s okay with you. I mean, will you be free?’
‘Yes, great!’
‘Good. I’ll book the flight, then. I can only get over for the one night, but it’s better than nothing. Anyway, I’ll let you go and call you back tomorrow when I’ve arranged it.’
‘Okay, bye! And thank you so much again.’
She hung up and pressed the button to answer the other call.
‘Hi,’ Luca said.
‘Hi,’ she said breathlessly, holding the mobile to her ear as she slid the vibrator out of the box. Now that she was on the phone to Luca, she realised she wasn’t sure about the etiquette of phone sex. Was it okay to have some general chit-chat first, or would that kill the mood? Were they supposed to get straight on with it? If only Mr Bossy were at the other end of the line – he would know what to do. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine. Are you okay? You sound a bit …’
‘I just had kind of a stressful day.’
‘Do you want to do this? We could leave it till another time …’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She took a deep breath and let it out. ‘I’m ready now.’
‘So … what are you wearing?’
‘Bra and pants. It’s just an M&S set. I couldn’t find anything sexy. But it’s matching and it’s very nice – pink and lacy, and the pants are boy shorts.’
‘Right.’ She heard him chuckle deeply. ‘How much was it?’
‘Oh, I can’t remember. I bought it a while ago, but I haven’t worn it often, so—’ She broke off, realisin
g too late that he was making fun of her. ‘Sorry – too much information.’
‘It’s fine. But we definitely need to do some more work on your chat.’
‘Not to mention my wardrobe. So, um … what are you wearing?’
‘Black silky jocks and nothing else.’
‘Really?’ That didn’t sound like Luca.
‘No.’ She heard the smile in his voice. ‘Really, you don’t want to know.’
‘No, tell me.’
‘A fleece.’
She giggled. ‘Really? Anything else, or just the fleece?’
‘Combats, boots. It’s bloody freezing in here.’
‘Sorry. It was really cold today.’
‘Anyway, I’ve brought the blow-heater into the bedroom, so it should heat up soon. I’ll strip off then.’
‘You don’t have to. We can just pretend.’
‘No, I will. We should do this properly.’
‘Okay. But those blow-heaters are very expensive to run – they use an awful lot of electricity.’
‘Oh, baby, you’re driving me crazy,’ he said flatly. ‘It makes me so hard when you talk about my electricity bill.’
‘Sorry. Okay, let’s start again.’ She took a deep breath and lay back on the bed. ‘I’m wearing a lacy bra and a thong,’ she said, trying to make her voice low and sultry.
There was a moment’s silence, then ‘Claire?’
‘Mm?’
‘Are you doing a funny voice?’
‘Oh! No!’ She blushed. So much for sounding sexy!
‘So you’re lying down on the bed? I wish I was there with you.’
‘Me too.’ She sighed.
‘Take off your bra and touch yourself the way I would.’
She set the phone down on the bed and removed her bra. Then she picked it up again and distractedly pawed her breasts, pinching her nipples while simultaneously smoothing out the instruction sheet from the vibrator on the bed beside her.
‘Talk to me,’ Luca said. ‘Tell me what you’re doing.’
‘I’m touching my, um … myself. I’m pinching my nipples.’
‘Are they hard?’
‘Hm? Oh, yes – very hard.’
‘I’m getting hard thinking about it,’ he said. ‘I wish I was there to suck them into my mouth.’
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