What Goes Around

chapter TWO

‘Hi, Mrs Jameson.’

I hate Skype.

Everywhere you go in the house it feels as there’s an extra pair of eyes watching you.

‘Hi there, Felicity,’ I say and I give a wave to the computer screen as I walk into the lounge to tell Charlotte to hurry up. ‘We’re just on our way over to you now,’ I tell Felicity. ‘And you can call me Lucy.’ I tell her again.

I hate being called Mrs Jameson.

‘Come on, Charlotte,’ I say, when still no one’s moving. ‘Get off the computer and get ready – you can speak to Felicity in person soon.’

But they’re playing some game that they want to finish and so I get the inevitable protests, though not just from Charlotte, from both of them.

God, I hate Skype.

‘We’ll only be a couple more minutes,’ Felicity beams back from the screen. ‘By the time you’ve got changed we’ll be finished.’

‘I am changed.’

‘Oh, sorry Mrs Jameson, I thought you were wearing a sarong.’

I look straight into Felicity’s cold blue eyes and instead of saying what I think, instead of calling her the little bitch that she is, I smile brightly at her as I click off the screen. ‘You’ll see Charlotte soon.’

I don’t like Felicity - she lives across the road with her helicopter pilot daddy and her highflying executive mummy, Simone, and she goes to Charlotte’s new school.

Felicity’s the popular one.

And soon, so shall be Charlotte.

I’ll make sure of it.

He’s calling for us to hurry up and, as I step out into the hall, for the first time he sees me. I mean, with the dress and shoes - the full effect. He runs a very approving eye over me. ‘You look great.’

‘Felicity thought she was wearing a sarong,’ Charlotte says.

Bloody Felicity.

But he just laughs.

And then he looks at me, I mean, he properly looks at me and, if we didn’t have an eleven-year-old present…

Well, lets just say, I’m actually looking forward to getting home tonight.

I wave to my neighbour - she gardens constantly, or rather, she gets a view of the goings on in the street behind the guise of her garden shears. I’m sick of her trimming the privet between our two houses. Shouldn’t privet mean private? Why can’t she stop trimming it like we’ve asked her? I must get him to have another word.

‘Here.’ He picks a piece of honeysuckle and pops it in my hair and then he lifts my chin and I think he’s going to kiss me. ‘Behave tonight.’

I smile.

I go to say something about misbehaving later, but I am not to add pressure, I remember, from my many hours spent with Dr Google. I carry on being subtle but I’m just fizzing inside, because I know this is working…

I can flirt for England too.

And often men don’t even know when I am!

We drop Charlotte off and I chat for a brief minute with Simone before we drive off. We find Jess and Luke’s new home easily – or rather the GPS does and we park with the other Audis and Mercedes in the driveway. When we get out he takes my hand and he gives it a squeeze and as we walk up to the door I’ve a feeling he wants a kiss. Maybe we were about to, but the door opens without us having to ring.

‘Wow!’ Jess beams as she opens the door. ‘You look great!’ She takes the wine and the flowers we’ve bought and we do the kiss, kiss thing and I see that she goes a bit pink when he kisses her.

He does that to most women.

He can flirt for England too!

‘Thank God you two are here…’ Jess says and I know exactly what she means – these nights are painful at best.

If there's one thing they should warn you, when you marry that sexy older man, it's that you inherit his friends, who all just happen to have really liked the first Mrs Jameson.

Especially Luke.

It’s a bit too complicated to explain right now, as we have to go through, but in a nutshell, Luke lived with the Original Jameson’s for a few months when he was seventeen and I think he sees them sort of as parents.

Which means he thought their marriage was perfect.

But then along came Lucy!

And, of course, it was all my fault.

Jess is the only relief here. She and Luke married about two years ago, though Jess and I have been best friends for years. When I first had Charlotte and I’d put on some weight, Ricky told me about a Pilates class in the village and that’s where I met her. Jess is an “out there” Welsh girl, she's funny and sexy and she finds these nights as excruciating as me.

‘Honestly,’ she rolls her eyes. ‘It’s agony in there.’

‘I’ll sort them out,’ he winks to Jess. We walk through to the lounge and do the kiss, kiss thing with the dinosaurs and I can feel disapproval from the wives and the opposite from the men…

Perfect!

‘Lovely dress,’ says Shirley, who’s Greg, the MD’s wife.

‘It’s not a dress,’ he says, ‘it’s a sarong. I had to haul her out of the shower or we’d never have got here…’

He does sort them out as promised – he’s just so good at things like that. He’s got charisma I guess and, within a few minutes, the rooms lifted and you can see Jess start to relax. ‘The house is gorgeous.’ I look around the lounge and out to the hallway. I know a thing or three about real estate and it’s clear that they’re doing really well. There’s a large study to the left of the lounge, with a built in desk and there’s Luke’s leather sofa, which has survived a few moves. Apart from that, I don’t recognise any of the furniture – they must have spent a fortune filling it.

‘I’ve just shown everyone around, but I’ll give you a little private tour later,’ Jess says and we smile at the thought of brief escape.

I don’t often drink but thank God for wine tonight because dinner is hard work.

Conversation starts sticking at the starter.

It probably has something to do with the mini sticky onion tarts with Teifi cheese getting in their dentures. I mention Charlotte and her Skype and that sort of grinds them slowly towards the present date, gets their miserable goats going and the conversation re-started. They really are the most opinionated, boring, disapproving lot. They start moaning about adverts, not just on the internet but also on the television and radio, about how everything is discussed these days.

‘There was one on the radio the other morning, about erectile dysfunction!’ Shirley says and I start to laugh, because I had Charlotte in the car when it came on.

‘Yes I know,’ I say, joining in. ‘Charlotte asked me what it was.’ There's a small ripple of laughter.

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘I told her to ask her father,’ I smirk and now they really do laugh, only I wish they wouldn't. I can feel his disapproval. Shit, I want to take it back! I didn't mean it like that, I wasn't talking about him, I was just trying to make conversation.

I struggle through the crispy duck we’re having for main and when Jess gathers up the plates I help her, just for the excuse of a quick bitch in the kitchen.

‘It's your turn next month!’ Jess reminds me. ‘What are you going to make?’

‘Cyanide casserole.’

‘That's not elegant enough Lucy.’ She’s warming up sauces and I’m waiting for her to open the fridge – for the inevitable Trio of Desserts we all have to make these days. ‘We could add arsenic to the desserts,’ Jess grins as she stirs, ‘just a little bit each month.’ She does make me laugh. ‘Can you get the ice cream cake out of the freezer?’ Jess calls over her shoulder. She doesn’t notice my silence as I stare into the freezer; she’s chatting away as she makes one jug of hot chocolate sauce and one jug of butterscotch.

‘What happened to my trio of desserts?’ I try to make a joke but my voice has gone all husky.

‘Who's got time?’ Jess says and she proceeds to tell me the recipe. ‘You get a good ice cream and a mud cake which you break up and stir in to the ice cream, along with Crunchies and Snickers, all chopped up, add Maltesers and a big slug of Baileys too. Then, wrap it in cling film, put it in a cake dish and you shove it all back in the freezer. Great isn't it?’ Jess says, peeling off the cling film and sprinkling chocolate flakes over it as I watch. ‘Don't worry.’ She must have seen the slight horror on my expression. ‘I used gloves to mix it.’ Then she winces as she remembers that I’m allergic to ice cream. ‘Lucy, I forgot!’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ It’s no big deal, I tell her. ‘I’ll just skip to the cheese.’

‘Are you sure?’ Jess checks and I nod. We start to carry the desserts through and I see my husband look from the plate and up to me as I hand him one and I know I’m being served another warning to behave.

I go to get the next lot of plates and, as I do, Jess asks would I mind putting the rest of the cake back in the freezer?

I do so, and then I carry the last couple of plates through.

‘Not for me, thanks.’ Luke pushes the plate away from him and carries on with his conversation and I try to focus on what’s being said. They’re talking about something that happened around the turn of the century and, of course, I can’t concentrate. My eyes keep moving to Luke’s discarded plate. To the ice cream that’s melting. I don’t get how he can just leave it; I don’t get how Jess has eaten half of her slice and seems finished.

‘Lucy will know.’ Luke drags me into the conversation. ‘Remember that guy who headhunted Cameron - you remember don’t you? We were on that boat on the Thames – when you still worked there.’

I have no idea who he’s talking about.

‘Anyone want seconds?’ Jess stands.

It’s the only thing I can hear.

‘You must remember him,’ Luke insists. ‘He was talking to you for ages.’

‘I don’t remember him.’ I shake my head, but Luke won’t let it drop.

‘The time you got sea-sick,’ Luke prompts and I take a slug of wine, though I feel like tossing it at Luke, or picking up his melted ice cream and slamming it into his gob, because I know what he’s doing, I know what’s coming next.

‘That was Gloria who got sea-sick.’ Someone chimes in and I go to refill my wine glass but I change my mind and turn to Jess.

‘Do you have any soda water?’

‘Sure.’ She’s blushing for me, and goes to get up, but I’m already standing.

‘I’ll get it.’

I feel as if I’m going to cry but wouldn’t they just love that?

I head to the kitchen and I walk past the freezer. I feel like cutting a slice, a decent bloody slice and eating it in here, but instead I pour some water from the tap and gulp it down, but I’m still thinking about what’s in the freezer, so I pour another glass.

Then I feel hate come in.

I know it’s hate because I feel it enter the room with Luke.

Jess must have sent him.

‘Sorry about that.’

‘F*ck off.’ I turn my head a fraction and snarl.

‘Lucy, I am sorry. I honestly thought it was you. I got you mixed up with Gloria.’

‘Please,’ I snort. ‘You wouldn’t have much trouble telling us apart.’ I swing round from the sink. ‘She’s twice my size with a moustache.’

‘That’s right,’ his smile is black. ‘You know, sometimes I think I’m being too hard on you, and then you remind me again, what a cold hearted bitch you really you are – I feel so much better about it now.’ He looks at me and I know that he sees me, the real me, or rather the old me before I reinvented myself - what was it he once said? “You can take the girl out of the council estate…”

He’s said a lot more than that in his time.

That night on the Thames, the one he honestly just got so mixed up about? I can assure you that everyone who was present remembers every detail of that night.

Even if we don’t say.

I remember it now - him calling me a slag, he got right in my face and he even dropped the C Bomb at me, and then he took a couple of slugs at the man who has been my husband, for twelve years now, and yet, still he treats our marriage as if it’s a sham.

I go to walk out, but midway I change my mind, because it is so not a sham. It’s time they all realise who the real Mrs Jameson is, and that she deserves some respect. ‘Every time we have one of these get togethers, someone brings Gloria up and I’m sick of it.’

‘Because people remember her,’ Luke shrugs. ‘Because people liked her.’

I shake my head. ‘It’s to get at me,’ I say. ‘They’re all jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ Luke laughs.

‘Yes,’ I insist, because absolutely they are. ‘They’re jealous because I’m young, they’re jealous because….’

‘They’re not jealous, Lucy. I’ll tell you the reason they don’t like you.’ Luke spells it out, he walks over to me and I find myself shrinking back onto the freezer, because finally we’re having it out. What has been left unsaid for so many years, what was put on hold when Charlotte was born and he deigned to come back into our lives, is about to come out, and I don’t want to hear it.

I go to move, but he grips my arm. ‘It’s because they’ve all seen you in action – they all know that you’d shag their husbands like that…’ he snaps his fingers in front of my face but I don’t blink, I refuse to, well maybe I do a little bit, but I try really hard not to. ‘You’d be straight onto the next, if he could give you more. You’d be on your knees without a backward glance.’

He looks at me with disgust and it isn’t fading.

It never has.

He looks down at me and I actually think he’s going to spit, but he lets go of my arm and I push past him.

I walk out of the kitchen, and the last thing I want to do is go back to the table, but thankfully Jess is coming out. ‘Fancy that tour now?’

I nod, but I’m all shaken.

‘Sorry for what Luke said.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I reply as we head up the stairs – she doesn’t know the half of it – still, it’s not her fault that her husband’s a dickhead. I stand on the landing and I look around and try to put his words out of my mind. ‘It’s stunning, Jess.’

‘It’s too big,’ she sighs. ‘But it’s a good investment apparently, with house prices down… yawn, yawn.’ Jess is so funny; she just doesn’t care about all the usual stuff like the rest of them downstairs.

As I said, Luke and Jess are Charlotte’s godparents – separately though. I think they actually met for the first time at the christening. I’m sure they slept together that night, though she never actually told me. We held it at a gorgeous hotel and something went on, because it was all a bit awkward for a while after that. It was just a one-night thing though, too much booze and all that, I think, because nothing came of it. So, I was really surprised when they got married. We didn’t even know that they were going out; we came back from a holiday in the Maldives to the news!

Charlotte was thrilled, but upset that they didn’t have a bridesmaid – she’s never been one and she’s desperate to be.

Anyway, they both dote on Charlotte and spoil her. They take her out and go and see her compete on her pony sometimes and are friends on Facebook with her and things. Jess and Luke don’t want to have children, both say Charlotte is as close to having a child as they want to get. They like going out and their holidays and weekends away too much, Jess has told me.

As we wander around she shows me the spare rooms, that are already furnished, and Jess makes a joke about it staying a cot free zone.

‘Hold on a sec…’ she makes me wait at the main bedroom door and goes in for a moment. ‘All clear.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You know,’ she grins. ‘In case I left anything out. I told the rest of them that we hadn’t finished decorating in here yet. Imagine Shirley’s face if she came in and there was my vibrator on the bed.’ She starts to laugh. ‘Are you blushing, Lucy?’

‘Stop it!’ I say, but I am blushing though. ‘Doesn’t Luke...’ my throat is really dry. ‘Doesn’t he mind you..?’

‘Mind?’ She gives me a queer look. ‘Why would he mind? He bought it for me.’

I try to make the right noises about the en suite, and the carpet, and the lovely bay window but Jess couldn’t care less about all that, so we lie on the bed for five minutes and have a gossip before we head back down.

‘I got offered a promotion.’

‘Oh my God…’ I turn my head. ‘Why didn’t you say?’

‘It’s a bit of a sore point at the moment.’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s in Wales.’ She sees my flare of panic, because I don’t want Jess to move there, but she just gives me a smile. ‘It’ll sort.’

Because it’s Jess, I tell her a bit about one of my sore points and, because it’s Jess, I tell her a bit more than I told Alexis today.

‘He’s not keen on Charlotte getting another pony.’

‘Yeah, well he’s probably sick of you having to get up at the crack of dawn every morning and all the events you go to,’ Jess says. ‘Maybe tell Charlotte that, if you get another one, then the stables are going to muck him out, or whatever it is you call it. He’s probably fed up about how much time you spend with Charlotte…’ She looks up as Luke opens the door and finds us hiding and then she turns back to me. ‘They’re just going to have to learn how to share you.’ She smiles up to Luke. ‘We’ve been rumbled.’

‘Come on guys.’ Luke says as Jess swings off the bed. ‘Back to it, Lucy.’

He’s far nicer when Jess is around and of course I’m much nicer to him.

Feeling better for the short reprieve we head back down and, to my surprise, the night actually gets better. We don’t leave when the first couple do, or the next.

Or the next.

Shirley and Greg linger a while, but in the end the grown ups are gone and it’s just the four of us and we drift out into the garden. It’s cool but Jess turns on the outside heaters as Luke heads back inside to get the brandy.

Actually, it’s not cool, it’s cold, especially if you’re wearing a sarong, even a very expensive one. Though I was sure I was going to be in trouble for my little erectile dysfunction comment earlier, I’m forgiven it would seem, because, while we wait for the heaters to warm up, he pulls me onto his knee. Jess is nattering on about Portugal and how they’re thinking of going for a week in summer.

‘We should all go,’ Jess says. She’s pretty pissed now and all full of grand plans, but I’m only half listening, I’m not really interested in summer right now.

I’m thinking about later tonight!

His hand is stroking my arm, just lightly. I know when I sat down my dress tugged a bit and I really should pull it up because I’m showing a bit of my bra.

But I don’t.

I just sit there feeling his hand on my arm and the suggestion that’s there and I want to go home, I want to go home, oh, right about now, except Jess is making him laugh.

‘We should really think about it…’ Jess says. ‘You and Luke can play golf and Lucy and I can just laze by the pool by day…

Luke hands me my drink and I catch his eye. I so don’t want to go on holiday with him.

Nor him with me.

I taste the warm brandy as Jess prattles on, but it doesn’t warm me and I shiver a bit. I don’t know if limitless alcohol would be such a good idea with us four. Yes, Jess and I are best friends, he and Luke are best friends…

Now.

But they didn’t speak for two years though, apparently thanks to me. His hand is still stroking my arm and I take another sip of my brandy and I try to think of a polite reason to end this discussion now. ‘I don’t know if it would be much fun for Charlotte,’ I say, and his hand stops stroking my arm.

‘Let’s get you home…’ I’m relieved when he drops a kiss on my cheek and we say our goodnights. I offer to drive, because I've only had two, or three because I remember the brandy.

Make that four given the size of drinks Luke pours.

‘I'm fine,’ he says as I go to get the keys from him and we sort of have a little joke scuffle. The next thing I know, I'm against the car and he's giving me the kiss that he wanted to at the front door, or it’s a bit more than that, because his hands are on my bum he's pulling me in. I can feel that he’s a bit turned on and I'm turned on too.

‘Get a room, you two,’ Luke shouts from the door and we stop. There’s night laughter as we climb in the car and then we toot and wave and drive off, but as we turn out of their street, as I will his hand to my thigh, he turns to me. ‘Don't you ever embarrass me like that…’ he really lets me have it in the car on the way home. No, he hasn’t forgotten what I said at dinner. ‘Don’t you ever insinuate that I can’t…’

‘It was a joke,’ I say. ‘And they all know that it was a bloody joke.’

It doesn’t appease him; he’s still pissed off.

Well I’m pissed off now too and I tell him I am.

‘So what was all that back there?’ I demand and then I realise it was all for show.

Out go my plans and in comes a fight.

I tell him that I’m sick of them bringing up Gloria, I’m sick of hearing her name.

‘Yeah, well at least she knew how to behave at work things.’

I feel like crying, I am so pissed off, because yet again Gloria has messed up my night.

We say nothing till we hit the village.

‘It’s up for sale again.’ He slows down as we pass the cottage in High Street that he’s always got his eye on and I know he’s just doing it to rattle me, but I don’t say anything and then we pull into our street and there’s my house.

My beautiful house.

It’s detached with a big carriage drive and huge mature shrubs. Okay, I sound like an estate agent, but I love my house, even though we’re mortgaged to the hilt and with loans that I don't even want to think about. He thinks we should downsize, after all we've only got Charlotte, but there’s no way we’re moving - the only way I’ll leave here is in a wooden box.

Any fleeting, futile hope of a shag is out, because he’s checking his phone the second we’re in the door. He pours himself a decent drink and takes it upstairs and I’m just left there, just standing there, and I’m angry and I’m upset and I don’t really know what went wrong tonight.

I don’t know what’s wrong.

I remember his kiss, the suggestive way he was stroking my arm, all the promise of tonight and I’m still sort of… I don’t know, turned on….

I think of Jess and she’s got a real live thirty eight year old one, and a battery operated one too, and three quarters of an ice cream cake in her freezer. I don’t get it, because if I had ice cream in the freezer, I’d never sleep. Only tonight, it isn’t ice cream that I want!

I’m back to my friend Google and I type in words. After a few goes I’ve found what I’m looking for – and it promises discreet postage. I’m off to my handbag, to the zipped up bit, and then to another zipped up bit, which holds the credit card he doesn’t know about. I click the purchase button and I am told that in 2-3 business days it will be here.

It just doesn’t help tonight.

I head to the conservatory and I set up for breakfast.

I’m actually tired now and I really do just want to take my make up off and go to bed, but my routines are too important to let a little thing like exhaustion stop me. I go back into the kitchen and pull croissants and bread out of the freezer and arrange them in a basket and cover them with a cloth. Then I make some bircher muesli and put it in the fridge to soak and then I fill the kettle with water, so it just has to be flicked on in the morning. I find my routines soothing and they work their magic tonight. I take one last look at my gleaming kitchen before I turn out the light and head up to bed but I see my reflection in the conservatory windows and the anger starts to fizz again - Luke’s wrong.

They are jealous.

And they have every reason to be.

For the most part.

I’m so angry about tonight. I just don’t get how, by the time I get up to bed, he’ll be asleep.

I feel like waking him up and shaking him.

I feel like telling him that this house is the love of my life and not him.

If I sound shallow and superficial, I don’t care.

I know I’m not.

I know why I’m here.

And I know why I’m staying.