Faking It

by Portia MacIntosh

  ‘Weird,’ he replies. ‘So, what are you going to say?’

  ‘I’m going to tell them to give him a bit of space – or at least appear to. He’ll stop feeling so smothered and stop acting up, and if he is actually up to something, well, he’ll get careless and they’ll rumble him. It’s win-win.’

  ‘Wow, that’s funny,’ Marco says with a smile.

  ‘What is?’ I ask.

  ‘That people with their lives the least together are actually the best at giving advice,’ he points out.

  Huh, I’d never thought about it like that, but it makes sense. I’d imagine, if I was a struggling single mum, with not much money to go around, watching This Morning, seeing my mum on there saying your kids should be eating freshly cooked meals every night, I’d probably just roll my eyes and change the channel.

  ‘You’re doing a better job than your sister,’ he says. ‘Your advice seems more well-rounded, like you look at things from more angles.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘I’m not sure she knows what’s going on in her own house, to be honest. Millie has an older boyfriend, that I’m sure Emma doesn’t know about, because she didn’t mention it, and… this is going to sound crazy… but I kind of think Rich is having an affair.’

  ‘What? What makes you say that?’ Marco replies.

  ‘I don’t know, just little things – like he’s almost always out, like so, so much. Surely no one works that much? And he takes calls all the time, out of the room, which I guess could be work calls but then I noticed a love-heart emoji, I think in a message, on his phone screen.’ I stop to take a breath. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Look, don’t worry too much about it,’ Marco tells me as he heads for the door. ‘Focus on your work. He’s not your husband, it’s not your problem, and, anyway, it was probably just an app notification.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I reply. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Right, I’m going to get back to my temporary desk, as John keeps calling it, and crack on,’ Marco says as he reaches out to open the office door.

  ‘Great, I’ll get back to tactfully telling people in their forties who want to sleep in separate beds from their spouses that that’s probably not a good sign,’ I reply.

  ‘You don’t share a bed with your husband, you hypocrite,’ he teases.

  ‘Get out of my office, and shut the door behind you,’ I joke, with a faux authority that doesn’t suit me.

  The door is only closed for a second before there’s a knock.

  ‘Erm, yeah?’ I call out.

  ‘Emma, hi… can I come in?’

  It’s John, the one who thinks Marco is making a play for his job, and Jessica’s poor bastard of a husband.

  ‘Erm… yeah,’ I say, which is basically the same thing I said before. I don’t think my ‘erms’ and my ‘yeahs’ are very Emma-like.

  ‘I’ve seen the new website… It’s… it’s actually looking really good. He’s doing a good job,’ he says, although he doesn’t sound too happy about it.

  ‘Yeah, I really like it,’ I reply. ‘I think it’s going to make a big difference.’

  ‘Yeah…’ John sits on the side of my desk, facing away from me. He sighs heavily. ‘Is he going to get my job?’

  I do feel a bit sorry for him. Well, I know what it’s like to lose my job, and I can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like being married to Jessica.

  John is maybe in his early forties. He isn’t a bad-looking fella, but you know in the movies, where a newly divorced woman has revenge sex with her husband’s douchey friend, and instantly regrets it? John is the kind of guy they would cast as the friend.

  I get up from my desk and place myself in front of John. I don’t suppose comforting and reassuring people is my strong suit, not as I imagine it is Emma’s, but I’ll give it a go.

  I keep John at arm’s length, but I place a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘John, your job is totally safe here,’ I tell him. ‘We still need you for keeping things updated, uploading the content and stuff like that.’

  Do I sound like I know what I’m talking about? Because I’m trying really hard to sound like I know what I’m talking about.

  ‘Really?’ he asks. I can see already, on his face, that he’s allowing himself to feel relieved.

  ‘Yeah, definitely,’ I say. ‘Marco is only here on a temporary basis, to revamp and to make changes to the system. But it’s still your gig. Just think of him as this super-amazing specialist.’

  John’s face tightens up again. So tight, in fact, I can see his muscles tense up down the sides of his neck.

  ‘Are you fucking him?’ he asks me.

  ‘Uh…. Uh…’

  Ironically these vaguely sexual-sounding noises are the only sounds I can get out. I’m totally floored.

  ‘Are you fucking him?’ John asks again, only slower this time.

  ‘What?’ I eventually spit out. ‘No! Of course not! How can you even ask me that?’

  I don’t think he believes me.

  How can he even ask me that? Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s lucky I’m Emma right now or I’d slap him across the face for speaking to me like that.

  Perhaps it’s good for me, being Emma for a while, because my natural reaction to someone being gross and offensive and kind of aggressive might be to lash out, but while I’m being Emma it’s teaching me to go about things differently. I need to defuse the situation.

  He stares at me, clearly waiting for a ‘better’ answer.

  ‘John, don’t be silly,’ I say reassuringly, daring to place my hand back on his shoulder. God, he must think I’m giving Marco special treatment because I’m sleeping with him or something. I suppose I get why he’s mad, but, still, it seems like a bit much.

  ‘Of course, I’m not sleeping with him,’ I insist. ‘I only have eyes for one man, and one man only.’

  John finally allows himself to feel fully relieved, safe in the knowledge his job is secure, and that his boss isn’t giving special treatment to the latest hot guy about the office.

  ‘I thought so,’ he says, but I hardly have a second to take in John’s words before he’s slamming me back against the wall, hard, pinning me against it with his body. In a split second he’s got my wrists in his hands, pinned over my head, and I’m trying to tell him to get off me, but his lips are practically suctioned around mine, muffling my words.

  John must only have me like this for a couple of seconds before – Emma behaviour be damned – I knee him in the balls.

  ‘Emma, what the fuck?’ John cries out as he drops to his knees.

  ‘Me what the fuck?’ I reply, nonsensically – you’ll have to forgive me, I’m a little shaken up. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

  ‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ he says, still on his knees, holding his balls in cupped hands. ‘I know after last time, you said it could never happen again, but when you said there was only one man for you, and you touched my arm, I thought you’d had a change of heart, that you wanted me again…’

  Holy fucking shit. Emma was having an affair. Emma – amazing Emma – mum of the year, wife of the year, everything of the year Emma. An affair. With someone from work. I can’t believe it. So that’s why she didn’t want me coming here.

  ‘Oh… right… no… sorry,’ I say. I don’t really know what else to say. ‘I love my husband, John. Anything else that happened was a mistake.’

  It sounds as though Emma has already told him as much but – oh my God! I still can’t believe it.

  ‘Look, erm, I think I’m going to call it a day,’ I tell him, grabbing my bag before stepping over him. ‘You just take all the time you need in here, and we’ll forget this ever happened, OK? And never talk about it again.’

  ‘I think I love you,’ he blurts. ‘I know you said it had to stop, but then… you came back in here, all dressed up, and I thought it was for Marco’s benefit and then I heard him say you and Rich were sleeping in separate beds and—’


  ‘Let’s just forget it,’ I insist again. ‘I love my husband. That’s all that matters.’

  I don’t give John chance to reply. I make a play for the door.

  ‘I’m going to call it a day,’ I tell Marco as I pass him. ‘I’ve got mum stuff to do, see you later.’

  ‘Oh, OK, see you later,’ he calls after me.

  I hurry outside as quickly as possible. God, I am mortified. I feel like I did when we were kids, and Mum would tell an embarrassing story about Emma on TV, and someone would think it was about me and I would feel humiliated, even though I hadn’t done anything wrong.

  The cold January air feels good on my warm cheeks but I doubt it’s doing much to take the inevitable redness away.

  I can’t believe John kissed me – I can’t believe Emma kissed him.

  I don’t know what Emma and Rich’s situation is, I don’t know who is cheating on who, but I want no part of it. I might have dragged myself up, morally speaking, but I know that cheating is wrong. I’ve been cheated on before, and it’s a shitty, shitty feeling. I could never do that to anyone.

  I’m surprised at Emma, the dark horse. I didn’t know she had it in her. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not impressed at all, but it’s of some comfort that she makes mistakes.

  It sounds as if she’s already nipped it in the bud, and it was kind of my fault things just kicked back off again, just a little, so I’ll do my best to defuse things and then keep my head down. I suppose I’ll have to tell her, when she gets out, but then she’ll know that I know, and I really don’t want that. Her image means so much to her.

  I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it and, in the meantime, I’ll try not to get kissed again.

  23

  I don’t know how people are able to cheat, because I can hardly look Rich in the eye across the dinner table, and I haven’t actually done anything wrong.

  It’s just me, Rich and Henry for dinner tonight. Millie sent me a Snapchat to say she wasn’t coming, and that’s literally all she said, no explanation, no time when she’ll be home.

  ‘You seem quiet,’ Rich says.

  ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I reply as I finish up my stew – and yes, I did make it myself. I’m getting pretty good at cooking now… well, following recipes, at least. ‘It’s just been a busy day.’

  ‘I was thinking, on Saturday evening, why don’t you go for a drink with some of your girlfriends?’ Rich suggests. ‘Millie is staying over at her friend’s, and it’s been ages since me and this one spent any time together.’

  Henry smiles, excited to be spending time with his dad, before shovelling another forkful of dumpling into his mouth.

  I wonder to myself, just for a second, if Rich might be trying to get rid of me, but I’m not sure how much he can get up to with Henry around. Still, I would more than appreciate a night off, but to be honest I might just spend it sleeping. Sleep is the thing I miss the most.

  ‘Sounds great,’ I say. ‘And speaking of fun things for Henry to do… I’ve got you a play date booked!’

  ‘With who?’ he asks.

  ‘Calvin Clegg,’ I reply, all smiles.

  ‘No way, Mum,’ Henry replies insistently.

  ‘What? Why?’ I ask.

  ‘He’s a weirdo,’ he tells me.

  ‘He’s a nine-year-old,’ I reply. ‘You’re all weirdos.’

  Rich laughs.

  ‘I don’t want to play with him, Mum, please, he’s so weird,’ Henry persists. ‘All he talks about is bugs.’

  ‘I’ve seen you spend hours catching bugs,’ I point out.

  ‘On Animal Crossing, not real bugs,’ he replies.

  I suppose he has a point there.

  ‘Henry, I didn’t raise you to leave kids out, just because they’re a bit weird, did—’ I ask him, before turning to Rich. ‘Did I?’

  ‘You certainly didn’t,’ he replies.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ Rich says, placing his cutlery down, now that he’s finished with dinner. ‘Thanks for that, it was lovely.’

  I’m a little taken aback by the thank you.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ I tell him, before turning my attention back to Henry.

  ‘Listen,’ I start quietly. ‘If you hang out with Calvin, only for an hour, I’ll buy you any Switch game you want. How about that?’

  Henry sighs. He can’t resist.

  ‘OK, fine,’ he says, but he doesn’t sound happy about it.

  ‘Emma, it’s for you,’ Rich calls out.

  I wander into the hall where I find Rich standing with Marco.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ I say.

  ‘You forgot this,’ he tells me, holding up my coat.

  ‘I didn’t even realise I’d forgotten it,’ I say with a bemused laugh. I suppose I was quite warm when I left work in such a hurry.

  Rich stares at us both for a second.

  ‘I’m just popping upstairs, then I’m going to take Marty for a walk,’ he tells me. Rich is used to saying Marty’s name in hushed tones, so as not to trigger the Smarty. I’m getting there myself.

  ‘OK,’ I reply. ‘Do you want to come in?’

  ‘Erm, I’ve got to head back home,’ Marco says, clearly stalling, as he watches Rich disappear upstairs. ‘Hey, are you OK? You seemed a little freaked out earlier.’

  ‘Oh my God, it’s a long story,’ I say quietly. ‘I daren’t tell you about it now – tomorrow?’

  ‘OK, sure,’ he whispers back. ‘As long as you’re OK. John looked like he was crying when he left your office.’

  ‘I kneed him in the balls,’ I whisper.

  ‘You what?’ Marco asks in disbelief, his voice suddenly at a louder than normal level.

  ‘Shh,’ I say quickly. ‘I’ll tell you properly tomorrow.’

  I hear Rich walking down the stairs behind me so I quickly change the subject.

  ‘Yes, I think that’s a good shout, for the servers,’ I say – no idea what I’m talking about there. I hope it sounds good.

  It doesn’t sound good to Marco; it amuses him though.

  ‘OK, well, I’ll do that with the servers,’ he replies.

  Rich stands between me and Marco, looking back and forth between the two of us before he pushes something into my hands.

  ‘Ella,’ he says quietly, but with an anger bubbling inside him. ‘I appreciate you helping out, but you need to be more careful, carrying on with this one, leaving this on the bathroom floor. It’s not on and I will kick you out before I’ll let you set a bad example for Millie, do you understand?’

  ‘Erm…’ I glance down at what’s in my hand. ‘Yes, sorry, I’ll be more careful.’

  ‘You’d better,’ he warns.

  Rich puts Marty’s lead on him, before storming out, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘What is it?’ Marco asks me once we’re alone again.

  ‘It’s an empty pill packet,’ I tell him.

  ‘I suppose you can see why he’s upset, with kids in the house,’ Marco reasons. ‘Bit harsh though.’

  ‘I mean, it’s very harsh, considering I didn’t leave it there,’ I reply.

  ‘Who did?’ he replies. ‘Has someone been going through your things?’

  ‘Marco, it’s not mine – I’m not on the pill. It must be Millie’s,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ he says slowly.

  Shit indeed. What the hell am I meant to do now? I let Rich believe it was mine because I didn’t want to get Millie in trouble, but is she only going to get herself in more trouble, if I don’t talk to her about it?

  ‘Are you going to say anything to her?’ Marco asks.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I reply. ‘Fuck, I’m not ready to be a mum. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.’

  ‘Seems like you’re not the only one,’ he replies. ‘I’d talk to her, make sure she’s OK.’

  ‘Yeah… yeah, you’re right, ergh. I used to hate having conversations like this with my mum – usually because
she’d wind up talking about them on TV,’ I admit.

  ‘Well, you’re not your mum, and you’re not Emma, so it might just go OK,’ he tells me. ‘Anyway, I’ll get going, see you tomorrow.’

  ‘OK, see you then,’ I say as I show him out.

  ‘And good luck,’ he tells me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply.

  I’m going to need it…

  24

  Calvin Clegg is a weird kid.

  I know, that’s an awful thing to say about a nine-year-old, but I’ve spent time around Henry, and Josh, and they’re exactly as you would expect them to be, but not Calvin. Calvin is different.

  It’s only been ten minutes since Christian and Calvin arrived at the house and I already feel terrible about asking Henry to do this, because I can already tell that they’re not going to get on.

  Calvin looks a lot like his dad – he also looks as if he’s physically a part of him because he’s been holding onto his hand nervously since they arrived. I tried to hold Henry’s hand in Blackpool because it seemed like the right thing to do and he told me I was being embarrassing.

  ‘Henry, why don’t you show Calvin all of your bugs on Animal Crossing?’ I suggest.

  ‘They’re not real bugs,’ Calvin says. ‘And they’re not the right sizes. They’re too big and too small.’

  ‘It’s just a game,’ Henry reminds him with a sigh.

  ‘Erm, OK, then,’ Calvin says. ‘I can show you my daddy.’

  ‘Your daddy is right here,’ I say with a laugh.

  ‘My other daddy,’ he says.

  Oh, God, have I been barking up the wrong tree here? Because I feel like that would be such a me thing to do.

  ‘He means his spider,’ Christian says with an awkward laugh. ‘It’s in his backpack.’

  ‘A r-real spider?’ I say, trying not to show how petrified I am, but I bloody hate spiders.

  Henry doesn’t look impressed at all.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s in a plastic container,’ Christian reassures me.