No-One Ever Has Sex on a Tuesday (24 page)

‘You suit orange lips,’ he told her, commenting on the bold tone of lipstick she was modelling. ‘Not many women can carry off orange, but you do it amazingly. It’s like, wow, I have never seen orange look so good on a face. You have a face for orange. Did you know that?’

‘I had no idea,’ said Abby flatly, raising her eyebrows at Ben.

‘Braindead is the funniest man I know, Abby,’ said Ben, draping an arm around his buddy.

‘And we all know what funny men are . . .’ began Braindead.

‘Really sexy,’ Ben finished off for him, not trusting Braindead with what his conclusion might be. ‘Women find funny men really sexy, don’t they, Abby? It’s a well-known fact.’

Abby giggled then downed another shot.

‘Doesn’t mean I have a big cock, though,’ continued Braindead. ‘Just so you know. I mean, it’s not small or anything, just not enormous, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t want you to think that just because I’m funny and sexy that I have a massive cock. Wouldn’t want to disappoint you. Because that can happen, can’t it? And I’d rather this conversation continued with you knowing I have an average-sized cock, then we all know where we stand.’

Abby giggled, and Ben’s mouth dropped open.

‘Mate,’ he said, gently pulling Braindead to one side. ‘Too much information. Not sure Abby’s ready for that yet.’

‘Oh,’ said Braindead. He glanced at Abby then put his mouth close to Ben’s ear to attempt a whisper.

‘I was just trying to manage expectations,’ he hissed. ‘I think that’s where I’m going wrong. I seem to disappoint women so I thought if I start by lowering expectations that might work in my favour. Besides, it seems really unfair that she doesn’t know how big my cock is but I can see exactly how big her tits are.’

It was like an automatic reaction, he couldn’t help it. Braindead mentioned Abby’s tits and Ben found himself staring at her overflowing black sequined vest top which failed to hide the contrasting turquoise bra desperately trying to restrain her bust. As soon as he realised what he was doing he flicked his eyes away. Abby trapped his gaze and he felt helpless to look elsewhere in case he looked in the wrong place again.

‘Another round?’ said Braindead, somewhere to his left.

‘Yes,’ replied Abby, refusing to release Ben’s gaze.

‘Back in a mo,’ said Braindead, and he made for the other end of the bar to attract Kevin’s attention. He was only ten yards away, but he was gone, and Ben felt naked and vulnerable.

‘Like what you see?’ Abby said, smiling and snaking her hand over his arm.

‘No!’ he cried. ‘I mean yes. I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. I’m so sorry.’

‘I liked it,’ she said, leaning forward so that he could feel her hot breath on his ear. ‘You can look anytime.’

‘No,’ he said again. ‘I don’t want to. Not that you’re not lovely to look at and everything but . . . I’m engaged, Abby. I have a baby.’ The music was throbbing around in his head, the shots were making him feel weak in more ways than one and the proximity of Abby’s breasts was breathtaking. He looked longingly at Braindead, who had his back turned to him at the bar.
Please turn round
, he thought.
Please come back now and then we’ll go and this will all be over
.

Then things went a bit hazy. Abby was kissing him, holding his head firmly between her hands as she ground her lips against his.
Stop!
his head was screaming as his legs started to buckle under him. He raised his hands to grasp her arms in an attempt to free his head, but she just tightened her grip. Ben thrust his hips outwards, as though any contact at waist level would spark spontaneous combustion. Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out of Abby’s grasp.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ shouted Braindead.

‘Thank God,’ muttered Ben, wiping his lips as he staggered backwards.

‘I’ll get my own drink, shall I?’ enquired Abby, looking slightly smug. She headed off to hunt down a barman.

‘I can’t believe you!’ said Braindead. ‘I leave you for five minutes and she was all over you? You’ve got Katy, you wanker. Why do you have to go and steel my bird?’

‘I didn’t! She jumped me.’

‘Oh yeah,’ said Braindead sarcastically. ‘Women do that all the time, don’t they? Do you think I’m an idiot or something?’ He looked Ben up and down in disgust, then turned and walked off.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘They fancy each other,’ shouted Matthew.

‘What?’ Ian shouted back.

‘I said, they fancy each other,’ Matthew repeated, right in his ear.

He had sat alone in the restaurant for some time, trying to get over the shock of Alison’s proud announcement that Ben had described her as eye candy. He’d sat sipping the rest of the champagne, staring into space and mulling it over, while the rest of the restaurant bustled around him. It was just such an odd response from Alison. She was the last person to be happy to be on the receiving end of such a label. The thought that she would ever enjoy being appreciated merely for her looks was unimaginable.

‘Eye candy,’ he kept muttering to himself in disbelief. He was certain that if he’d ever called her eye candy, she would have blown a gasket and accused him of some kind of hideous demeaning behaviour. But no, apparently being called eye candy by the likes of Ben – a young, fit, footie-playing, ex-PE instructor, super caring stay-at-home dad – well, that was a major compliment. She was seriously chuffed. He thought she might even have been blushing as she flung it in his face as her parting shot. Matthew was angry with Ben for saying such a thing to his wife, and even angrier with Alison for liking it.

They’d actually been flirting, he suddenly realised when he’d nearly polished off the whole bottle of champagne. That’s what it was. In his own house. How dare they! And they were both parents of newborns. Absolutely disgraceful!

Having ascertained Ian’s whereabouts via text, he paid the bill to a bewildered waiter, who cheered up dramatically when he saw the size of the tip. Matthew fled the restaurant to download the latest development to his mate.

It was now after ten, and what Ian had described as Becki’s local did not look like the type of place that a man in his forties could frequent without looking like a bit of a loser. Matthew soon found Ian in Cocktail Emporium, standing alone at a high table, ogling his girlfriend on the dance floor whilst trying desperately to look as though he was twenty years younger. His
shocking pink and yellow designer shirt could have been carried off by a long, toned torso, but Ian’s slight beer belly and too short arms meant the colourful garment made him look like a children’s TV presenter. An attempt at using hair wax to hone a more youthful style had failed, due to lack of hair. What was left was unpleasant, greasy-looking strands. However, he still had a massive beam on his face when Matthew walked in, and he welcomed him with a bear hug and a cocktail.

‘Seriously?’ said Matthew. ‘You drink cocktails now?’

‘Sure,’ Ian shrugged, taking a sip. ‘No big deal.’

‘And what are you wearing?’

‘Becki took me shopping today. She says I look ten years younger.’

‘You look like someone desperately trying to look ten years younger. Is this really all necessary, just for her?’

‘Who is the one in a happy, sexually active relationship here, and who is the one running to me because his wife fancies another bloke and they haven’t had sex in months? If it makes her happy if I wear a pink shirt, mate, I’m gonna wear a pink shirt.’

Matthew felt his shoulders sag. If only this problem could be solved by wearing a pink shirt. Somehow he didn’t think it would have the necessary impact on Alison. He picked up the drink bought for him by Ian and took a sip. It tasted disgusting.

They didn’t talk for a while, just stood together watching the clutch of women on the dance floor, who were tottering and writhing against each other, displaying their young bodies to the various groups of men loitering around the edge. They were no doubt waiting for the point when they would be drunk enough to step onto the dance floor themselves and chance their arm at trying to pull. Becki was contorting her body into ridiculous positions, causing Matthew to look away at one point as it seemed inevitable that any minute he was going to see a flash of knickers.

‘So tell me again exactly what she said,’ Ian asked eventually, turning his back on the dance display to avoid distraction.

‘She said Ben told her she was eye candy.’

‘Right,’ Ian nodded.

‘That’s a come-on, right?’ said Matthew. ‘He fancies her?’

‘You can’t be sure,’ said Ian, shaking his head.

‘But she liked it,’ urged Matthew. ‘
Alison
liked being called eye candy!’

‘You never can tell with women, mate. When I was married I’d tell Caroline that she looked gorgeous and she’d fly off the flipping handle – tell me I was after something, or ask me what cock-up I was covering up. Women’s reactions to compliments are one of the most mystifying things known to man. Throwing a woman a compliment is like throwing meat into the lions’ den. You may get a big fat lick, but more than likely you’ll get your hand bitten off.’

All Matthew could do was nod in agreement. Just that evening he’d told Alison how much her dress suited her. He’d realised his mistake when she had pointed out that it suited her because it was an old maternity dress she’d bought in the early stages of her pregnancy and was now, to her horror, the only dress in her wardrobe that actually fitted.

‘What really worries me is what motivated Ben to say that,’ Matthew continued. ‘Why would he say that to Alison?’

‘It’s an odd choice of phrase for your wife, I have to admit,’ said Ian. ‘To me, eye candy is long legs, a penchant for pastel miniskirts and candyfloss for brains. Having said that, I think you’re thinking about this way too deeply. Just knock the bugger out. Whatever he said, whyever he said it, it’s time to get rid, my son. You can stand for this no longer.’

‘I know,’ Matthew agreed. ‘I told Alison she shouldn’t see him again, that he was taking advantage and she didn’t have time, and she went mental. Told me I couldn’t tell her what to do, and at least Ben appreciated what a good mother she was – not to mention that he called her
eye candy
.’

‘It’s alright, mate,’ said Ian, putting a hand on his shoulder, ‘I hear you. Calm down.’

‘
How can I calm down
?’ said Matthew, his eyes bulging. ‘He’s in my house, with my wife, and I can’t do anything about it.’

‘You have one other option,’ replied Ian. ‘But you’re not going to like it.’

‘Anything,’ gasped Matthew. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Well,’ said Ian agonisingly slowly. ‘The way I see it is, if you can’t get Alison to stop seeing Ben then you have to get Ben to stop seeing Alison.’

‘How do I do that? Alison’s practically bringing up Ben’s daughter at the moment. He’s not going to give up that lifeline easily.’

‘Fair comment,’ Ian nodded. ‘So I think really your only option if you want to shut this entire thing down is to . . .’ He hesitated.

‘Do what?’ demanded Matthew.

‘Tell Katy.’

‘Are you fucking insane?’

‘What would Katy do if she found out Ben was spending time with Alison behind her back?’

‘She’d have a heart attack.’

‘Correct . . . and then what would she do?’

‘Make him stop.’

‘Exactly. She knows as well as you do that them two together is a disaster waiting to happen. Between you, you must be able to make it stop before someone gets hurt.’

Matthew stared back at Ian. He knew there was sense in what he was saying but there was one major flaw in his plan.

‘I can’t contact Katy,’ he stated.

‘Why not? It’s all over between you. So you had a one-night stand. Big deal. It was ages ago, but it’ll come back to haunt you if you don’t sort this mess out.’

If only it had been just a one night-stand, thought Matthew. It should have been, but then he’d even managed to screw that up. In a moment of panic and madness he’d declared his love to Katy in the labour ward whilst she’d been having contractions. He’d even offered to leave Alison if Katy would have him but she’d turned him down, choosing to marry Ben instead. It had been left to Daniel of all people to talk Matthew down and make him see sense – that he didn’t love Katy; he was just hankering after their carefree teenage romance, which could never be recaptured. So Katy’s last impression of him would be of a desperate, pathetic man professing his undying love for her. How could he ever face up to her again, let alone try and convince her that her fiancé had been flirting with Alison?

‘There must be another way,’ he pleaded.

Ian thought for a moment then shook his head.

‘Call Katy. Get it over with.’

Chapter Twenty-Five

There was crying coming from somewhere. She turned over in bed and caught sight of a red flashing light on the baby monitor on her bedside table. It was Millie crying. What time was it? The corner of the duvet obscured the clock. She pushed it out of the way to reveal it was 6.32 a.m. Not bad. She’d take that. Now whose turn was it to get up? She and Ben had a loose agreement to take it in turns at the weekends, but there was no rule as to who took Saturdays and who took Sundays. Usually it was whoever broke first on Saturday at Millie’s wails.
I’ll get up today
, she thought,
seeing as Ben has had her all week
. He could have the first lie-in. She turned over to tell him that he could stay in bed. He wasn’t there. It was obvious he hadn’t been there all night. No dent on the pillow, no watch on the bedside table. Katy gasped as the memory of their fallout the previous evening came flooding back. She’d stayed awake until midnight waiting for him to come in so she could apologise. But she must have fallen asleep and now it was morning. She shot up in bed, desperate to find evidence of his existence. For the first time in her entire life she longed to see a stray sock or pair of boxer shorts strewn on the floor. But there was nothing. The bedroom was eerily neat as though Ben’s existence had been scrubbed entirely.

She jumped out of bed, threw on a dressing gown and made for Millie’s room, a million different options running through her head. Perhaps he’d gone home with Braindead. Perhaps he’d forgotten his key and slept out on the landing; it had been known before. Or perhaps she’d driven him away for good with her accusation the previous night. Would he ever forgive her? Perhaps he was with her, whoever she was. Perhaps he was in a ditch? At what point should she start ringing hospitals? All these thoughts paraded through her brain as she performed the mundane early-morning rituals surrounding a baby. Clean nappy, feed, clean clothes. Millie wouldn’t wait for Katy to decipher the small incident of her father going missing. Essential activities needed to be performed, and only after that could Katy start to have a meltdown.