Fourplay

by Jane Moore

  “And you want to thank me from the bottom of your heart?” His eyes had a mocking glint.

  She ignored him. “And I was wondering,” she took a deep breath, “whether you still had any feelings for me?”

  There was a long silence as he looked at her, a thoughtful expression on his face. “What kind of feelings?”

  “The kind you said you had . . . before,” she said, faltering.

  He looked puzzled, then slightly irritated. “Jo, what exactly is it you’d like to know?”

  It crossed her mind to just leave the subject and get on with her life. But she had to know, even if it meant rejection. So she took another deep breath and closed her eyes. “I want to know whether there’s still a chance for you and me.” She opened her eyes and looked straight at him, waiting for a response.

  There wasn’t one. Almost thirty seconds passed and he was still staring fixedly at the table. The wait was interminable.

  “Well?” she said hopefully, tilting her head to try and see his expression. Her heart was hammering with the anxiety that he was about to say no.

  Eventually, he cleared his throat and looked at her. “On what basis? There’s a lot at stake here.”

  He didn’t specify what, but she presumed he was referring to Emma, as well as possibly Thomas and Sophie. Either way, he hadn’t dismissed her completely, and that gave her the confidence to go on.

  She dragged her chair closer to his and took hold of his hand. “Look, I know I have been a total pain in the arse, knocking you back for something shallow with a man who turned out to be married. And I know I have a failed marriage behind me and two children to consider. Let’s face it, I’m a nightmare date.” She paused and tried to smile. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, particularly since Dad died, and it cleared my head in many ways. I realize now that I’ve always had a bit of a thing for you on the quiet, but when we got together so soon after the Jeff business it terrified me. I didn’t want it to go wrong, because there was so much to lose. So I went the other way and shunned you.” She stopped and squeezed his hand.

  He gave her a weak smile. “That’s for sure. You made the Ice Queen seem warm and cuddly.”

  “Well, I want to make up for that now. I’m in love with you Conor, and I think I have probably been in love with you for a long time. I was just too all over the place to notice. I just wanted to tell you how I felt . . . I needed you to know. I could kick myself for not working it all out earlier, before you met Emma and everything became more complicated.”

  He sighed and sat back in his chair. “Ah yes, Emma.”

  “Do you still . . . you know . . . love her and everything?” It felt like her tongue had swollen to three times its natural size.

  “And everything?” he said, a twinkle in his eye. “Oh yes, definitely and everything.”

  The mere thought of Conor doing anything with Emma, never mind everything, was enough to make Jo want to throw up.

  “Oh, I see.” She said it with as much brightness as she could muster, but inside she was fighting sweeping waves of nausea at the thought she might have lost her chance with this wonderful, gorgeous man. “Well, look, I’ve said my piece and I fully understand that my timing is absolutely appalling and that you’re in love with someone else now, but I wanted you to know how I felt anyway and . . .”

  “Shut up.”

  “Sorry?”

  “I said shut up.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Stop saying bloody sorry.” He stood up and turned to face her.

  “You look angry,” she said, looking up at him.

  “I am angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a selfish pain in the arse who has been so wrapped up in herself she hasn’t been able to see the nose on the end of her face.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Conor let out a long sigh. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands in his. “Emma and I split up on New Year’s Day. I never told you because we all got swept away by Jim’s death. After that, you never bothered to ask, so I didn’t bother to tell you because I thought you didn’t care.” He paused and started to stroke the side of her face. “Jo, I was very fond of your father, but I came to the hospital because of you. I came to the funeral because of you too. It was hell for me to see you so miserable and not be able to openly touch and comfort you.”

  He paused, but Jo was incapable of answering. A tight knot had paralyzed her throat and tears of relief had started to run down her face.

  “And why the bloody hell do you think I’m here today?” he said, brushing them away.

  “To cook me lunch,” she sobbed, half laughing, half crying.

  “Yeah, right. I came because Tim told me about your conversations with Jeff and Martin, and said you were going to be on your own today. I was convinced you were going to go back to Jeff, so when I heard you hadn’t, I dared to hope there might be a chance for you and me. I had to find out, once and for all. That’s why I came.

  “Ever since I first told you my feelings and you knocked me back, I have still felt the same but tried to bury it. I dated Emma, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. In the end, I felt it wasn’t fair on her and ended it.”

  “So is that a yes then?” she smiled, dabbing her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “Do you truly want to get involved with a woman as idiotic, short-sighted and baggage-laden as me?”

  Lowering his hand from her face, he started to slowly unbutton her shirt. “I’ll think about it,” he said. As it fell from her shoulders and exposed her braless nipples standing to attention, he let out another slow, heavy sigh. “I’ve thought about it, and the answer’s yes.”

  Standing up, he yanked his T-shirt over his head to reveal the taut, hairy chest that had mesmerized her during their first, all too brief encounter. With one swipe of his forearm he sent the fruit bowl and various books and newspapers clattering to the floor in a messy heap.

  Pulling Jo to her feet and grabbing her hips, he lifted her onto the kitchen table and leaned forward to kiss her, slowly and tenderly at first, becoming more urgent within seconds.

  “I’m really sorry, but this is going to be a quickie,” he murmured, pushing her back onto the table and running his hand up her skirt. “I’ve waited so bloody long for you I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.”

  “Ooh, very Postman Always Rings Twice,” she giggled, pulling him on top of her.

  Three minutes later, they lay on the floor in an exhausted heap, side by side, so closely entwined she could feel his hot breath on her face.

  “Conor?”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Jo.”

  “It’s funny, but do you know what made me realize it?”

  “What?” He carried on idly caressing her breast.

  “The oven.”

  He turned to face her. “You’re certifiable, do you know that?”

  “I know it sounds daft, but I was sitting here last night, just thinking about everything, and I suddenly remembered the day you came round with Tim, just after Jeff had walked out. Do you remember?”

  “Yep. I wanted to give you a big cuddle then too.”

  “Well, you leaned against the oven, and when Tim was wittering on about how every man would sleep with a twenty-three-year-old if he thought he could get away with it, you said you wouldn’t.”

  “Did I?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “It must have been a tactic to make you like me.”

  She gave him a playful punch. “Very funny. Seriously though, that has always stuck in my mind. Trust is important to me, particularly now.”

  “Well, you got it. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, and to show you how much, I’m going to take you upstairs and make love to you properly. Then we’ll have that bath of yours.”

  “Ooh, a sequel. The Architect Always Shags Twice,” she laughed, gathering her clothes and letting him lead her by the hand u
pstairs.

  Epilogue

  and planted a wet kiss on the side of her peachy, blemish-free face.

  “Darling, you look absolutely edible,” she said, glowing with pride. “A real princess.”

  Sophie was wearing a peach taffeta bridesmaid’s dress with matching shoes and a garland of cream roses in her hair. Because it was such a special day, she’d been allowed to wear a tiny bit of mascara that accentuated her huge blue eyes.

  “And here is the prince!” exclaimed Jo, as Thomas walked into the room in full pageboy outfit. His hair was slicked into a side parting and he was scowling.

  “Grandma has made me look a right arse,” he grumbled, ruffling his hair back into his favored unkempt style.

  “Thomas! Watch your language,” chided Jo. “Best behavior for the wedding please.”

  The living room door flung open and Pam blustered into the room wearing a cerise wool suit with a vast, circular hat that looked like it had made a forced landing on her head.

  “Can you get Channel Five on that?” quipped Jo, but her mother wasn’t listening. She had positioned herself in front of the mantelpiece mirror and was trying to fix her brooch so it didn’t make her lapel droop.

  “Come on, you two, the car’s outside. We don’t want to be late.” She turned round to look at Thomas and Sophie. “You look utterly gorgeous my darlings.”

  Jo stood on the doorstep and waved them off, then turned back into the house to put the finishing touches to her own outfit for the big day.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Jo looked at Thomas and Sophie and beamed with maternal pride. They looked like two angels standing there, and neither had put a foot wrong throughout the entire ceremony.

  As the bride and groom walked back down the aisle to be showered with rose petals, the guests fell in behind and followed them outside the tiny village church in the heart of Oxfordshire.

  It was a crisp winter’s day, and everyone stood around stamping their feet, trying to keep warm while the photographer decided whom he wanted first. Jo took the opportunity to whisper in Conor’s ear.

  “Weren’t the children fantastic? Thomas looked so handsome in his pageboy outfit,” she smiled, affectionately linking her arm through his. “I’m so proud.”

  “So you should be. They’re great kids.” He waved at Pam who started walking toward them across the picturesque churchyard.

  “That was such a beautiful ceremony,” she said, dabbing an eye and smudging her Paint By Numbers makeup. “She looks stunning.”

  “She does indeed,” said Jo, smiling across to where Rosie and Jim were posing for the photographer. “I can’t believe it, Rosie finally married. She always thought hell would freeze over before it would happen.”

  Conor gave Jo a swift peck on the cheek and wandered off with Pam across the churchyard, where a crowd of guests stood chatting.

  Jo stood alone for a few moments, and was just about to join them when she felt a small squeeze on her arm. It was Jeff.

  “That was you and me thirteen years ago,” he said, nodding toward the bride and groom. “Except that you married an arsehole.”

  Jo raised her eyes heavenward and tweaked his cheek. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It all turned out OK in the end. Come on.”

  She placed her hand in the small of his back and steered him over to where Conor was deep in conversation with an attractive brunette woman in her early thirties.

  “Ah, I see you two have finally met,” said Jeff, giving the woman a swift peck on the cheek and shaking Conor’s hand.

  “Yes,” said Conor with a swift smile. “Angela was just telling me how she beat the pants off you in court last week.”

  Jeff frowned, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “Bloody women. All they have to do is bat their eyelids at the magistrate and they win every case.”

  “I think you’ll find it was because my summing up was better than yours, and that my client made a far more reliable witness,” said Angela, poking her tongue out at him.

  Jo laughed, turning her face from one to the other as if at a tennis tournament. “Well all I can say is, it’s nice to see he’s finally met his match,” she said, smiling at Angela. “He used to drive me mad with his ‘I put it to you’ attitude in arguments.”

  Conor stepped forward and casually threw his arm round Jo’s shoulders. “Whereas you and I haven’t shared a cross word in a whole year,” he said with a grin.

  “Yeah right,” drawled Jo sarcastically. “And Dolly Parton sleeps on her front.”

  The four of them stood there silently for a moment, staring across to where Rosie was posing with Thomas and Sophie who were being uncharacteristically well-behaved. Pam had clearly re-combed Thomas’s hair, and this time he’d left it as it was. When the photographer had finished, Rosie scooped up her train, planted a swift kiss on Jim’s rosy cheek, and walked over to them with the children in hot pursuit.

  “I have to say these two have been absolutely fantastic,” she said, patting their heads. “Now it’s time to go and get drunk!”

  Jo took hold of her arm and walked her away from the group to a quiet corner of the churchyard. “You look so beautiful. I’m so happy for you,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. She enveloped her in a hug and the two old friends stood there for a few moments just clinging to each other.

  “Thanks honey,” sniffed Rosie, dabbing her eye with a lace glove. “Who’d have thought it, eh? Me married.”

  “I would,” said Jo with a warm smile. “I’m just surprised someone didn’t snap you up earlier.”

  Rosie gave the thumbs-up to the photographer who was gesturing for her to return. “I’m going to lob the bouquet in a minute,” she said. “Shall I make sure it comes in your direction? You know, give Conor a big hint.”

  “He doesn’t need one.” Jo rummaged in her handbag for her camera. “He’s already talked about us getting married. I’m the reticent one because I’ve been there, done that, got the divorce.”

  “You shouldn’t let that put you off. You’ve got a real gem there, and I’ve always said it.” Rosie looked across to where Conor was laughing at something Jeff was saying.

  “I know. I still can’t get over how amazing he is, not just with me but the children also. And to think I spent so long farting about with Sean when I could have been with Conor right from the start.”

  “True, but maybe the timing wasn’t right then. Maybe you had to experience yet another frog before you realized the handsome prince was the one for you,” said Rosie, blowing a kiss to Jim who was walking toward them.

  “Come on, wifey,” he said with a grin. “You’re wanted for some more photographs.” He took her by the hand and led her away.

  Jo suddenly wanted a couple of minutes alone, and wandered off down the side of the church to stroll through the small cemetery at the rear. She stopped in front of a tiny gravestone, inscribed with the words, “Gemma Price, aged three, taken early from this world but never forgotten. All our love, Mummy and Daddy.”

  That puts any problems I’ve had into sharp perspective, she thought. Again, she felt tears welling. She was uncommonly weepy today, but weddings always made her feel like that. She noticed a small, wooden bench bathed in watery sunshine against the rear church wall. Smoothing her dress beneath her, she sat down and stared up at the trees, transfixed by the dappled light through the leaves.

  It struck her that she was truly happy; a state of mind that had eluded her for years, possibly even before the break-up with Jeff. The children seemed happy and settled, they had a better relationship with their father than when he was still living at home, and they seemed to have taken a shine to his new girlfriend, Angela. And as for Conor, they totally adored him, as they always had done. He played rough and tumble with Thomas, as well as endless games of football, and he was forever tickling Sophie and playing Ken to her Barbie.

  Once she’d made the decision it was to be Conor, Jo saw little point in spending months hidi
ng it from the children. She had taken so long to wake up to their compatibility, that she just knew everything would be alright. When they’d sat the children down to tell them, they had wrinkled their noses and tittered.

  “Does that mean you’re going to kiss?” said Sophie, pulling a face.

  Conor had leaned over and planted a smacker on Jo’s lips, and the children had dissolved into peals of embarrassed laughter.

  Smiling now at the memory, Jo was stirred from her thoughts by the sound of crunching from the gravel path.

  “Ah, here you are. I wondered where you’d got to. You OK?” Conor sat down next to her on the bench and held her hand.

  “Fine, thanks. Just having a quiet moment.”

  “Shall I leave you alone?”

  “No, I like having you around. That’s what I love about you, I can have quiet moments even when you’re with me.”

  They lapsed into silence and, for several minutes, just sat there lost in their separate thoughts.

  “Jo?”

  “Yes?” Somehow, she knew what was coming.

  He carried on looking straight ahead. “I know you’re wary and everything, and I can understand that. But I’m not Jeff and—”

  “Yes, Conor. I will.”

  “Will what?”

  “Marry you.”

  “But I was only going to ask if you’d mind me watching Match of the Day at your place tonight.”

  Momentarily thrown, she turned to look at him. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Only joking.”

  “You shit!” As she gave him a playful punch on the arm, he grabbed her hand.

  “So, is that a proper ‘yes’ then?”

  “What other kind of ‘yes’ is there?”

  “Well, there’s the ‘yes,’ but I might change my mind in the morning. There’s the ‘yes,’ but the next time we have a row it’s all off. Or there’s the ‘yes,’ and I mean it enough to go and tell the kids right now.”

  She leapt up. “Race you!”

  © Brian Aris

  is a columnist for the Sun and writes regularly for the London Sunday Times and Hello. She is the presenter of Crimewatch Daily on BBC TV and was the co-presenter of the acclaimed TV show Loose Women. She lives in London.