Chapter 24
Funny how little time it took for the extraordinary to become ordinary. The gigs were the highlight of my life only a month earlier. I prattled on ad nauseam about them. The girls risked exceeding their monthly text allowances with squealing messages of support.
Fast forward. It was September and I’d just answered Kat’s perfunctory question (How’re the gigs going?) with ‘fine’. I wondered whether real stars became blasé about their successes. I couldn’t imagine it. I doubted that Rihanna pitched her Grammy in the cupboard, shrugged and said her career was ‘fine’. I wasn’t actually blasé myself, just conscious that constant repetition of minute detail would cause my friends to want to strangle me. So I was outwardly calm. Inside I still fizzed at the thought of being paid regularly to sing.
‘Good, that’s good,’ Kat said, distracted by the three-course meal she was single-handedly concocting. I loved Kat’s kitchen. It was cosy and built with families in mind, with half a dozen chairs set around the island where she worked. The seating arrangement and proximity to snacks on every surface made it the perfect place to host a girls’ night.
It felt weird knowing James wasn’t there. Her investigator caught him and Pockface in flagrante delicto, which gave her lawyer some ammunition against James’ demands, and allowed her to file the divorce petition. Divorce. It sounded so Desperate Housewives. James was still threatening to fight her for custody, but at least it would be an even fight – adulterer to adulterer. Kat looked terrible lately and I knew she wasn’t sleeping. I loved James but he was being an arsehole. He just wanted to punish her, knowing that losing the boys would kill her. Things certainly got complicated when kids were involved.
‘Are you sure I can’t help?’ I asked her.
‘I prefer to cook alone.’
‘She means she doesn’t trust you,’ Faith said.
‘Or you.’ Kat took aim with her spatula. ‘Or Clare.’
‘Cheers,’ said Clare, raising her peppermint tea. ‘I wouldn’t be much help anyway, not unless you want a vomit starter.’
‘Charming as always, Clare,’ Faith said.
‘Like I can help it.’
‘I mean the statement, not the nausea.’
‘Same answer,’ she said. ‘Sorry, Kat, it all looks lovely, but I don’t know how much I’ll be able to eat. At this rate I’ll be sick going into labour.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s so unfair. Where’s the happy glow I’m supposed to get? The energy boost and glossy hair? Everyone else in class is floating around talking about how wonderful they feel and I’m still popping Rennies like they’re Belgian chocolates. My feet have grown again and now, look at this.’ She lifted her shirt.
‘That goes away, right?’ Faith looked horrified.
‘Usually,’ Kat said, glancing at the dark line down Clare’s belly.
‘And look at this.’ She pointed to her upper lip. ‘The latest in the catalogue of horrors. I look like Groucho Marx.’
We examined Clare’s new ’tache. ‘More like Hitler,’ I said. ‘Oh, honey, it doesn’t really matter. Two more months and you’ve got a little baby. Besides, it’s not like you’re on the market right now. You’ve said yourself that The Shag is back to his randy old self.’
‘Unlike The Dad,’ Kat said, glaring pointedly at me. ‘B., there’s something wrong.’ The others nodded their agreement.
Of course they wouldn’t miss the opportunity to pass judgment on my sex life. Or lack thereof.
The Dad and I hit the ground running after our first date. We just hadn’t properly hit the bed yet.
‘It’s not like we don’t have any physical relationship,’ I objected. In fact, we got pretty close the last time I slept over. ‘We’re just taking it slow. We get along so well, we talk every day and really have fun together. He’s an interesting man, funny, charming, chivalrous.’
‘Still too short?’ Clare asked.
‘No, not really.’
‘He’s grown on you, then?’ Faith said.
‘Ha ha, but yes. I don’t notice the height difference as much any more. The point is that we like each other. He’s obviously interested in me, and I like him a lot.’
‘Then why aren’t you having sex?’ Faith asked.
‘I’m not sure. He’s an incredible kisser and we do fool around. We just haven’t… you know. But I can tell that the growth spurt he missed out on in his legs went somewhere.’ I nodded slowly. ‘He’s a tripod.’ We took a moment to toast this anatomic anomaly. ‘He tells me how wonderful I am and is remarkably in touch with his feelings for a man. I get tingles just thinking about him. He ticks all the economic boxes too.’
‘He’s divorced with kids. That’s a drawback, no?’ Clare asked. ‘No offence, Kat.’
‘None taken.’
‘You could look at that two ways, though, couldn’t you?’ I said. ‘Either he’s damaged goods, having screwed up at marriage. No offence, Kat.’
‘None taken.’
‘Or he’s not afraid to make a commitment and now, even after splitting with his ex, he’s a devoted father. I don’t know. I’d lean towards the latter.’
‘Me too,’ said Faith. ‘God knows there are enough men out there afraid to commit. It’s nice to see ones who aren’t. Even if it doesn’t work out for them, it’s not for lack of trying.’
‘Exactly. Clare, Kat, where do you stand on the divorced-with-kids issue?’
Clare gestured to Kat in an I’d-like-to-buy-a-vowel-please manner. ‘Well, all we have to do is look at Exhibit A. She is divorce…ing with kids. And we know she’s not damaged goods. So that’s not an issue for me.’
‘So we agree that The Dad is lovely. Based on his ex-marriage he’s not afraid of commitment, and he’s a devoted dad. He’s also sexy and fun and interesting.’
‘He sounds perfect,’ Clare said. ‘Except for the sex.’
I sighed. ‘I think there’s a bigger issue that might explain that.’
They looked like those dogs in the park, intent on their owners about to throw a ball.
‘Last week we were at his house having dinner and his ex-wife rang. That’s not unusual because of the kids and sharing custody. But they chatted on and on. He obviously doesn’t think this is weird because he did it in front of me. He mentioned that I was there for dinner when he was talking to her. But they were really friendly. Is that normal? Kat, you and James wouldn’t call each other every day to chat about your day, right?’
‘No, Liebchen. We talk every day, or almost every day, but that’s because of the children. And the lawyers.’
‘Right, exactly. I don’t want him to hate his ex because that’s not nice either. But the chumminess bothers me. Faith, Clare, thoughts?’
Faith said, ‘What’s your gut tell you?’
‘It’s odd. They act like best friends, but that’s something you give up when you break up. You’re supposed to lose that level of access to the person. It’s the forfeit you pay for ending the relationship.’
‘But he’s not furtive in any way?’ Faith asked.
‘No, quite the opposite. Which makes me think I’m overreacting. I just can’t shake the feeling that it’s weird. Maybe I’m being paranoid.’
Kat said, ‘I’d pay attention when they talk and if any alarm bells ring, don’t ignore them. You’re seeing him next weekend, right? Talk to him about it.’
The door buzzer rang through the flat. ‘Oh, Clare, that must be The Shag,’ Faith said. ‘It’s show time everybody! Choose your weapons.’
Clare was letting us, the coven, inspect him. ‘Jesus. Promise you’ll be nice!’ She said, running to the door and leading him back into the kitchen to meet his fate.
He looked nervous. Of course he did. Facing such an inquisition without a worry would show a gross underestimation of the power of a woman’s friends. Luckily for him, he was a known quantity after so many years of wine-fuelled discussion. I wasn’t sure if knowing that would make him feel better or worse.
He kissed each of us, actually making lip-to-cheek contact. I appreciated people who did that rather than treating me as infectious by air-kissing at arm’s length. He hovered behind Clare, stroking her shoulder while he complimented the cooking smells wafting from Kat’s pots. Clare was clearly aggravated by his stroking. In his affectionate zeal his hand displaced her bra strap. She kept poking it back up into her short sleeve. I wanted to tell him to stop but that would only call attention to him. Unfortunately, my telepathic skills were on the blink.
‘Oh, this is an easy meal that I make a lot,’ Kat said, clearly pleased by his compliments. ‘Do you like to cook?’
She wasn’t wasting any time. It always surprised me when men didn’t recognize this question for what it was. A litmus test. Didn’t the answer to those five little words speak volumes? Do you like to cook? Yes. Yes, I will make you romantic meals over shared bottles of wine. Yes, I care about the creature comforts. Yes, I can look after myself, and look after you too. Yes, I will share the burden of making a lovely home. No. No, I don’t care what I stuff down my gullet, and by the way, you’ll find mouldering takeaway containers under the sofa. No, I haven’t overcome the stereotypes of gender roles in society. No, I think I’m too busy/important to bother. Oh yes, one little word spoke volumes.
‘I love cooking, but there’s so much more to learn. Actually, I took a few classes last year. It’s harder now that I’m not at the bike shop but it’s something I want to do more. I was lucky. My mum taught my brother and me when we were children. I’m a dab hand at a Sunday roast, if I do say so.’
Right answer. ‘How’s your new job going?’ I asked.
‘Actually, it’s really good, thanks. The people are nice and it’s a laugh. Someone brings treats in almost every day. I love working in an office! At the bike shop we were lucky to share a packet of crisps. There are the usual council bureaucrats so there’s a definite pecking order, and lines that aren’t crossed. That’s fine with me. The work itself is okay. I’m surprised that I like it so much, though I am still working at the bike shop on Saturdays. I’ll stop when the baby is born.’ He turned his smile on Clare while the rest of us got a bit puddly at his statement. ‘Not long now, eh? I can’t wait,’ he said.
‘Not nervous?’ Faith asked.
‘Of course I’m nervous! Even though I know complications are rare at our age, Clare’s healthy and there’s no reason to think it’ll be anything but smooth. I’m terrified about her health being at risk.’
‘Well, we’re all concerned about that, but I meant about being a father.’
‘Oh. No, not really. I mean, obviously we’ve never done this before but we’ve been reading–’
‘He means he’s been reading,’ Clare said.
‘Don’t be modest.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Clare’s just as prepared as I am, trust me. I know it’ll be hard. Everyone promises us that no matter how hard we think it’s going to be, it’ll be ten times harder. I’m not looking forward to that. But then you’ve got this little person that’s come from you both, and you get to see him, her, it, every day, see the changes every day. That’s going to be incredible. We’re very lucky.’
It was hard to believe he was only twenty-seven and up until a few months ago rode a skateboard to work at a bicycle shop. I wondered if he’d always been this level-headed and Clare just hadn’t given him credit. It was tempting to judge outward appearances, or to peg people to the point in time when you first met instead of seeing their evolution. And if I were to judge by outward appearances, I’d have seen a man who by all accounts lived a Peter Pan existence. He loved spending summers at festivals and winters weekending in ski bum hostels in the Alps. He was more adept at Xbox than most sixth formers, wore his jeans so low he was constantly at risk of being pantsed, and he didn’t even try passing off week-long stubble as anything other than what it was – an aversion to the razor’s function. And yet outward appearances also told me how devoted he was to Clare and the imminent arrival of their child. I didn’t think those appearances were deceiving.
‘B.! B.!’ Faith shoved her mobile at me. ‘Here, it’s Frederick, he needs to talk to you. You really need to get a new phone.’
‘I know, I know, but it’s only another month till I can upgrade.’ My phone had become temperamental of late, refusing to accept calls. My friends had become temperamental as a result.
‘Darling, are you sitting down?’ He sounded panicked. ‘You need to sort your phone.’
‘Yes, I know, I will. What is it, Fred, is everything all right?’
‘No, no, nothing bad. You’ll never guess what.’
‘What?’
‘Guess!’
‘Fred!’
‘Fine, spoilsport. Oh, I’m so excited, I need to sit down. I just went online and there’s been a bit of interest in you on YouTube. B., your video has… wait for it… over five hundred thousand views!’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means you’re famous. B., it means you are bloody well f*cking famous.’
I sat down with a thump.