She stares at the screen, seeing just a haze of type now as her mind races. Perhaps this isn’t a magazine feature after all, but a fantasy. Maybe Rob is one of those men who – she can hardly bring herself to consider the possibility – thinks he was born the wrong sex. After all, it’s written in the first person – ‘fondle
my
domes of love’. Mary’s throat feels dry and tight, and she wants to run through to Eugene to tell him what she’s just read. Does this mean their baby son, who loved his rusty old Tonka truck and Scalextric set, is one of those men who doesn’t feel right until he’s had his body pumped with female hormones and his penis removed?
Mary feels dizzy and nauseous as she saves the feature and shuts down the laptop. Taking a moment to compose herself, she gets up to turn off the light, then makes her way back to her own room. She slips back into bed beside Eugene, deciding that, no matter how much she loves her husband with every cell of her being, she can never tell him that their darling son would like his bra to be removed by someone’s teeth.
‘Eddy? Hi, it’s me, Nadine.’
‘Hey, how you doing?’
‘Fine, I suppose.’ She frowns and shifts position on the sofa. There are frequent kicks now, and she loves the feeling, imagining her baby dancing or somersaulting.
‘Still with the in-laws?’ There’s a trace of amusement in his voice.
‘No, I’m not. It didn’t go very well, to be honest, so I’ve come home early. Caught a train this afternoon.’ She slides a hand over her small bump, wondering if the baby can sense it there.
‘Why? What happened?’
‘Oh, the dad was okay – wasn’t exactly the fun, jolly type that Rob had made him out to be, but at least he didn’t fly off the handle when I dared to suggest that I might go back to work one day, or make a big fuss because I wouldn’t eat their unpasteurised cheeses …’
‘They didn’t try to force-feed you, did they?’ Eddy sniggers. ‘Maybe they were just concerned. After all, you
are
supposed to be eating for two …’ There’s a babble of voices in the background, and music, and Nadine senses that he’d like to wind up this call as quickly as possible.
‘It’s not funny, Eddy. His mum was horrible – a dried-up old cow who kept calling me
Nay
-dine.’ She slips into a Yorkshire accent: ‘“Ah can’t see the point of having children unless you’re going to spend eighteen years wiping their bums and strapped to the sink.” Old bitch!’ She blinks away a tear. ‘And to think she’s going to be grandma to my baby …’
‘Well …’ He pauses. ‘… You
think
.’
Nadine blinks at the star-shaped fairy lights – her only concession to Christmas decorations this year – which she’s artfully draped around the Debenhams print. Part of the strand is dangling down but she doesn’t have the energy to put it back up.
‘I told you, Eddy, it probably
is
Rob’s.’
‘Well, let’s bloody hope so.’
‘That’s nice,’ she says coolly, remembering Eddy’s lack of concern over the split condom that last time.
He sighs, and she senses exasperation gusting down the phone. ‘Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m sure you’re right – it is far more likely, the way I’ve treated my body these past few years …’
‘I don’t think it comes down to how much drink and drugs you consume, Eddy—’
‘Of course it does!’ He guffaws. ‘It’s in every magazine you read, isn’t it? Including ours. It’s a pretty safe bet that I’ve annihilated ninety-eight percent of my sperm by now.’
God, he’s such an idiot. Why did she never realise what an absolute self-centred little jerk he is? Just as well she’s with Rob now …
‘It’s working out with you and Robster, though, isn’t it?’ he asks.
‘D’you really care if it is or not?’
‘’Course I do.’
She sniffs loudly. ‘Um, yes, I think so… . I mean he’s sweet to me and everything … but there’s his kids – what am I going to do about them? They hardly said a word to me today, and I don’t know how to behave with them, whether to try and make friends or just leave them be …’
‘They’re probably a bit freaked out. I’m sure they’ll be fine …’
‘And what about his mother?’ she charges on, feeling her heart rate quicken, which can’t be good for the baby. ‘It wasn’t just the childcare and cheese thing, Eddy. She
hated
me, I could see it in her eyes, the way I’ve ripped her perfect son’s marriage apart …’
‘For God’s sake, Nads, she can’t have been that bad.’
‘She looked like she wanted to stab me with that cheese knife!’
‘Oh, babes.’
Is that all he can say? It’s easy for him to be dismissive when he’s sitting in a bar surrounded by friends with a drink in front of him. Her bottom lip is wobbling now, her vision fuzzing through tears. She’d never imagined that pregnancy would make you feel like this – highly emotional, prone to dramatic mood swings – or maybe that’s just her, and the situation she’s found herself in. She just needs someone to talk to. Sure, Nadine has plenty of friends, but while they still come over for the odd girlie night, she’s noticed that they’ve become slightly less keen to hang out with her. ‘We didn’t think you’d want to come,’ Jade said the other day when it transpired that she, Sasha and Harriet had been out shopping together. Why wouldn’t
she? Pregnant women still buy clothes. They still meet up with friends to gossip and chat … don’t they? Or are they supposed to wear rags and live as hermits?
‘Anyway,’ Nadine tells Eddy curtly, ‘I’ll let you get back to your night out.’
‘I’m at home actually, just having a few festive drinkies with Frank and Ava and a few others.’
‘Oh. So, er … they heard everything you said just then.’
‘No, of course they didn’t …’
‘Well,’ she says coolly, ‘say hi for me.’
You could have invited me
, she thinks as she finishes the call; but of course, she was supposed to be at Eugene and Mary’s grand old house in Kent, charming these supposedly lovely people to the point at which they’d get over the Rob/Kerry break-up and welcome her into their family.
Nadine places her phone on the table. She pictures Eddy and the others all lolling around in his beige, minimalist flat, with his ridiculously huge Christmas tree (silver baubles only) where she used to spend the night occasionally until that last time, three days before her encounter on the sofa bed with Rob.
Don’t be so bitter
, she tells herself out loud as she undresses in the bathroom in preparation for a lovely long soak.
Negative feelings can’t be good for the baby
. Eddy gave her that first big break, after all, when she barely had a qualification to her name. There she was, just eighteen years old, with a paid junior position on a trashy little soft porn magazine called
I’m Hot
, whereas most of her friends had ended up doing unpaid internships for what felt like forever. Making it clear that he fancied her, Eddy then took her with him to a short-lived free weekly magazine, teasing her that if she didn’t make the grade, she’d be the one handing it out at Tube stations in the pouring rain. Finally, when he landed the editorship of
Mr Jones
, he forced out that hatchet-faced assistant and brought Nadine in instead.
She’d felt blessed, even when it had become clear that he was sleeping with Ava as well. ‘What’s the problem?’ he’d asked, all big, innocent eyes when she’d confronted him. ‘You’re a sweet girl, Nadine, but it’s not like we’re a couple. I’ve never lied to you.’
Revenge – that’s why she’d orchestrated the thing with Rob. That and the fact that he’s gorgeous, of course (she’s always had a thing for older men with dark Italian looks). Anyway, what was good enough for Eddy was good enough for her, so she’d gone for it, even though Rob had been off his face and the sex had been a bit of a non-event. The worst thing was, he’d talked in his sleep that night on her sofa bed. ‘Kerry,’ he’d muttered, ‘you’ve got all the duvet again.’ In the morning, Nadine had reassured herself that he wouldn’t have stayed if everything had been rosy at home, so none of this was her fault really. In fact, she’s probably done him a favour in making it possible to escape a life sentence in the dreary seaside town she’s only been to once, with her grandma, where everyone looked about eight hundred years old. Rob hadn’t wanted to move. Didn’t he admit it that night?
She steps into the bath and sinks into the soothing warm water. Yes, she decides, examining her sugar-pink toenails as they poke through the suds, Rob Tambini probably thinks she’s the best thing that ever happened to him
.
Now Kerry remembers why normal people go out, as in, venture beyond the boundaries of their own home when on a date (she is trying not to think of tonight as a date, but what else could it be, really?). That way, the state of your house doesn’t matter. You can turn up all freshly showered and blow-dried and no one will guess that your kitchen is strewn with sheet music, plus the numerous Christmas cards and home-made decorations which have yet to find a home. However, tonight, Kerry hasn’t had a choice. Asking Brigid to babysit would have meant her having to bring Joe along too, or dropping off Freddie and Mia at Brigid’s (not ideal on a school night although, intrigued by his surly attitude – a teenage boy in a four-year-old’s body – they would have enjoyed the arrangement hugely). With a hollow feeling in her stomach, Kerry realised she had no one else to ask.
Still, her anxieties turn into a kind of fizzling excitement as she does a speedy clear-up and answers her ringing phone.
‘All set?’ Anita asks.
‘Yep, I think so.’ Kerry grins. ‘The place still looks a bit shabby but that’s probably a good thing, makes it seem more relaxed.’
‘Shabby’s fine,’ Anita agrees. ‘You don’t want him to think you’ve spent all day cleaning for him.’
‘Well, no chance of that. Anyway, I’m thinking candles to make it cosier …’
‘Yes, go for candles.’
‘You don’t think it’ll look like I’m trying too hard? It’s just the kitchen light’s horribly bright and pore-illuminating …’
Anita laughs. ‘Candles are
not
trying too hard. They’re not a big deal. They don’t say, I want sex.’
‘Hmmm. I just don’t want him to think I’m this desperate dumped woman who’s planning to hurl myself at him.’
‘You are, though, aren’t you?’ she teases. ‘I mean, the hurling part.’
Spotting Buddy’s favourite chewed-up blanket lying by the fridge, Kerry grabs it and stuffs it into the walk-in cupboard. ‘Hmmm, maybe. The thing is, though, even if there’s a
remote
possibility that it might happen, the kids will be asleep upstairs.’
‘I know. He sounds nice, though.’
‘Yes, he is. He’s … the kind of man you wouldn’t expect to be single, you know? Like, he’d be the good-looking dad at the school gates with a little gaggle of flirty mums around him.’
‘But his son’s grown-up?’
‘Yes, they run a sandwich place together.’
Anita pauses and Kerry knows her friend’s smiling. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t say it, but I have a really good feeling about this guy.’
Kerry sniggers. ‘Um … maybe that’s why it took me all afternoon to dig out something even vaguely suitable to wear.’
‘Just be casual, don’t worry about it. What are you cooking, anyway?’
‘Um,
casual
seabass, a
casual
salad and I’ve got a couple of bottles of decent sauvignon …’
‘Perfect.’
Kerry grins, rounding up the odd stray plastic cup and placing it in the dishwasher. ‘I’ve actually got a good feeling too. The kids have been great – didn’t even notice I’d hauled their bedtime forward, although Freddie did complain that I’d raced through
The Tiger Who Came to Tea
in about ten seconds flat.’
Anita chuckles. ‘Well, good luck, and don’t forget to file me a full report tomorrow.’
An hour later, at 8.30 p.m., Kerry is wearing a simple blue shift dress and ballet pumps, with minimal make-up and a huge smile on her face as she welcomes in James. He has also, she notes, taken the casual route in dark jeans and pale linen shirt, and looks all the lovelier for it.
*
‘That was delicious, Kerry,’ James says, placing his cutlery on his plate. ‘I don’t want to sound pathetic but there’s something
so
nice about being cooked for.’
She laughs. ‘I know what you mean. Doesn’t Luke ever cook for you, after all the help you give him at the shop?’
‘You’ve got to be joking,’ he retorts. ‘Anyway, I’m starting to think it’s time he got his own place. We really need our own space.’
‘Driving you mad, is he?’
James smirks. ‘God. I don’t know if I should tell you this. He’s just got back with his girlfriend, Charlotte, and let’s just say they were a bit … vocal last night.’
‘Really?’ Kerry sniggers, refilling their glasses.
‘I’m actually surprised
you
didn’t hear them.’
‘No, well, I sleep like a log – out cold, like a dead person.’ She takes another sip of wine. ‘Did you mention it this morning?’
‘No chance. Charlotte was still there, wafting around in Luke’s T-shirt …’
‘Bet that was awkward …’
James nods. ‘And we’ve been busy all day so the moment’s kind of gone, you know?’
‘And I suppose he
is
a proper grown man,’ Kerry offers.
‘Yes, well, at his age I was married but our bedroom wasn’t about six feet from my mum and dad’s.’
She gets up to make coffee and unwrap posh chocolate brownies from the new bakery, a tip-off from Brigid. They are delicious, James agrees; almost as good as the ones
he
makes. How pleasing, Kerry thinks, to see a man tucking in and relishing food. Rob never seemed to care much about what he ate, perhaps due to being plied with delicious Italian cooking from birth and then spoiled with those endless account expense lunches. He never seemed to stop and appreciate anything he put in his mouth, so to speak.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ Kerry says hesitantly, ‘but when did you and your wife break up?’
‘Um … two years ago now.’
‘And there was no warning at all?’