Over You (37 page)

‘Course they did. I’m surprised it wasn’t thirty,’ Nell said. ‘I bet they were all after you in there, darlin’. So . . . Any lookers, then?’

‘We-e-ell . . .’ Josie laughed. ‘There was this one guy, Andy, who was really nice. But no, nothing happened. I was in a bit of a funny mood, to be honest. And even though I enjoyed all the chatting-up and attention, I wasn’t up for anything else. It was just . . .’ She paused, trying to get the right words. ‘It was just nice to have a break from normal life. Time off from Misery Central, I mean.’ She yawned again and stretched out her legs. ‘And now I’m back, and . . .’

‘Back at Misery Central?’

Josie was silent for a moment, reflecting. ‘No, I wouldn’t say that. I don’t feel miserable today. Just a bit rough.’ She paused, wondering whether or not to tell Nell about Lisa. Not, she decided. It was Lisa’s story, not hers.

‘Well, that’s all right. At least with a hangover you know you’ll be OK by tomorrow,’ Nell said comfortingly. ‘Trust me. I’m an expert on these matters. But anyway, I won’t keep you if you’re suffering. I was just ringing to tell you our news, and ask you to our leaving do. We’re going to have a bash in London before we go away. A big party, with all our mates and family . . .’

‘Sounds a bit like a wedding to me,’ Josie teased. ‘Sure you’re not tempted to ask a registrar along too?’

Nell chuckled good-naturedly. ‘Leave it out, you’re as bad as Gareth,’ she said. ‘Actually, that’s a point. Talking of weddings and sparring guests and all that – you just reminded me. How would you feel about Lisa coming? Because obviously, you two are both my mates, but I don’t want any aggro or anyone feeling awkward. So if it’s going to be too difficult, I can always catch up with her separately – not invite her, I mean.’

Josie gazed out of the window. From her position on the sofa she could see into the back garden, where her own roses were bobbing their heads in a breeze. For an instant she felt a tearing sadness inside again, and turned her head away quickly, not wanting to look at them. ‘Actually, it’s funny you should mention Lisa,’ she said, trying to sound casual about it. ‘Because I saw her yesterday, and we’ve sorted things out. So don’t worry about any sparring or aggro. We’re all right, me and Lisa, now.’

‘God. Really? Wow. What did she say?’

Josie hesitated. It’s kind of private,’ she said at last. ‘But things are OK, anyway. Let’s just leave it at that.’

‘OK,’ Nell replied. ‘Sorry – I didn’t mean to sound nosy—’

‘Course not,’ Josie said, smiling. ‘You?’

‘All right, so I
was
being nosy, but . . . Well, I’m glad you’ve sorted things out. So mature and grown-up, dahling!’

‘That’s me,’ Josie agreed. Her gaze drifted to the African postcards on the mantelpiece and she seized on them as a good means to change the subject. ‘Have you heard from Rob lately?’

‘Yeah, we’ve been emailing. He asked about you, said he hadn’t heard from you and were you all right?’

Josie nodded, even though Nell couldn’t see her. ‘Tell him I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘In fact, I’ll tell him myself. I’ve been meaning to write back to him – top of the To Do list.’

‘Oh good.’ Nell paused. ‘Because I think he’d really like to hear from you. He’s always had a bit of a thing for you, and . . .’

‘Nell!’

‘And he’d kill me for saying as much to you, but—’

‘Nell!’

‘I think he—’

‘Nell, shut up!’ Josie said quickly. ‘Just . . . don’t. Let me get things straight with Pete first. I can’t think about anything else right now, OK?’

‘O-k-a-a-a-y,’ Nell replied. She sounded like one of the boys did when they’d been told off. ‘Better go anyway. Speak to you soon, yeah?’

‘Speak to you soon, Nell. Bye.’

Josie was asleep when Pete arrived with the boys. The knocking at the door filtered into her dream, and she struggled to surface. She’d been in Africa, riding an elephant with slimy Jake from the party and . . . No. No, she wasn’t. She was in her own living room, with dribble down the side of her face, and bed-head hair. She tidied herself up quickly and went to answer the door. The boys were shouting to her through the letterbox and she was suddenly desperate to see them again. Then she was struck by a pang of guilt at hardly having thought about them at all while she’d been away. Slack mother! Dreadful mother!

‘Mummy!’

‘Mum!’

‘Hello, you two, had a good time?’ She hugged them to her, her twin bouncing puppies of boys, kissing them, and almost falling over in the enthusiasm of their embraces.

She heaved them up, one in each arm – God, they were getting so big! – and straightened to look at Pete. ‘Have they been all right? Behaved themselves?’

Pete nodded, smiling at her. ‘We’ve had a great time,’ he said. ‘Haven’t we, boys? Football in the park . . .’

‘And
ice
creams!’ Toby put in.

‘And we took the bikes out, too, didn’t we?’

‘And guess what? I had a go without my stabulizers,’ Sam said proudly.

‘We
both
did,’ Toby corrected him. ‘We both did it without our stabrilizers.’

‘Well done! Without your
stabilizers!
Wow,’ Josie said, smiling at each of them in turn. They both seemed really happy, full of it. ‘Thanks, Pete,’ she added, in a more formal tone.

‘Any time,’ he said. ‘How about you, was it a good night?’

Josie was slightly taken aback. She’d been expecting to whip straight into the usual polite goodbye, close-the-door, sigh-of-relief routine. They hadn’t exactly been
doing
conversation, she and Pete, apart from the brief handover chat each time they exchanged the boys. ‘Um . . . yeah,’ she replied. ‘Yes, it
was
good, actually, thanks.’

‘So, er, what did you get up to?’ he asked.

She frowned. ‘What did I get up to?’ she echoed. Why was he asking? ‘Well . . .’

Toby, yanking at Pete’s T-shirt, interrupted. ‘Dad, Dad, come and see our room. You know I told you about the drawing I did of the T-Rexes fighting, and all the blood? Mum put it on the wall for me. Come and see!’

Pete looked questioningly at Josie, and she shrugged. ‘Fine by me,’ she said.

She stood there as Pete kicked off his shoes in the hall – the way he’d done every evening, once upon a time – and followed Toby up the stairs. And there was Sam, running after them to catch up, slipping a hand into his dad’s. It was almost as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

She glanced down at her own hand, bare of its wedding ring.
Almost

She paused in the hallway, unsure of what to do. What was the protocol? She hadn’t a clue. She shut the front door, thinking hard. ‘Want a coffee?’ she called up the stairs after a moment. Why not? It would be nice for the boys to have their dad here, on their own turf, again. Hopefully it would give them some extra security, demonstrate that hey, Mum and Dad could still be pleasant to each other, even if they hated each other really.

She paused, her hand on the banister, then corrected herself. Well, not ‘hated’. She didn’t
hate
him. She wasn’t really sure what she felt about him any more.

His voice floated down. ‘Please!’

‘Can we have biscuits?’ Toby bellowed.

She found herself smiling as she went into the kitchen, put on the kettle and took out two mugs – Pete’s favourite Arsenal one still lived in the cupboard – and poured some juice into cups for the boys. Two mugs, two cups and a packet of biscuits. It was all so familiar, yet so very peculiar at the same time.

She took her time with the coffees as they tramped into the kitchen moments later, Toby, Sam and Pete. She deliberately kept her back to the table, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Really, though, her cheeks were burning. And when Pete sat down in his old place, head of the table, she pressed her lips together very hard so as not to smile too obviously.

Oh, it was nice to have him sitting there again, back in his place. She could hardly look at him, she felt so stupidly pleased. It was ridiculous, she knew. Daft. He was only staying for a
coffee
. But the boys were loving it, having him here at home again. They went around the kitchen, pointing out all the pictures they’d done at playgroup, their bean shoots that were growing crazily on the windowsill, the photos that she’d taken of them in Devon. Josie watched. It was enough to take her hangover right away, like magic.

Then she thought about Rose, and what Lisa had told her, and stiffened. Hardened herself to him all over again.

She put his coffee on the table without looking at him. Then she stood back against the work surface with her own drink, unable to join them at the table. I can’t just pretend nothing’s happened, she thought. I can’t just switch into Happy Families, play along with this.

She could feel his eyes upon her and made a point of looking up at the wall clock. ‘Is that the time?’ she said coldly.

Josie stared at the computer screen, wondering what to put next. She was feeling guilty for not having written earlier, after Nell’s prompt that afternoon. But what should she say?

She stopped typing and popped a cherry into her mouth from the bag next to her, chewing it thoughtfully as she read back her words. That was a bit heavy, wasn’t it? Rob wasn’t going to want to read that sort of thing while he was away. Her finger searched for the Delete button, then she hesitated. Maybe it was better to bash out how she felt now, then she could edit it afterwards, before sending it. It might be quite cathartic.

She nodded to herself – decision made – and began typing again.

She paused, wondering how Lisa had been since they’d said goodbye on Saturday, then more words spilled on to the screen.

She bit into another cherry, pained at the idea. It hurt, analysing their affair like this, in hindsight, when at the time she’d been blissfully ignorant.

Josie sniffed and wiped her eyes. This was a mistake. She shouldn’t have started this now, not when she was so hungover.

She moved the mouse to the Save Draft button, blowing her nose, and clicked, thinking absent-mindedly about taking a bath and getting an early night.

Then she froze in horror at the page that popped up on screen:

She stared at the words, as if her brain was tricking her. Your message has been
sent
? How had that just . . . ?

She slapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. Oh shit. She must have clicked on the Send button, instead of Save Draft And now that message, all that personal stuff about Lisa, was in Rob’s inbox in cyberspace, just waiting for him to click it open and read it. Oh God. Oh
God!
Disaster!