Three In a Bed

by Carmen Reid

  ‘I’m going home to get dressed up. Are you coming back as well? Or d’you want to meet there?’

  ‘I’ll meet you there,’ he said.

  She gave him the details and they said their goodbyes.

  When Bella and the gang had all worked at Laurence and Co. together, they had been an incredibly close little group. They had seemed so exactly the same: young, precociously clever, ambitious, impatient to get ahead. They had worked hard and played harder in an inseparable band with their own private jokes, code words, pet hates and games. Even when they had all moved on to different companies, the intimacy had remained for a long time.

  But over the past few months, Bella had noticed that she no longer really felt part of it – a difference she could only put down to marriage. She didn’t want to be out socializing all night, every night. She wanted to go home to Don. She was starting to find the gossip dull, all the ‘who’s sleeping with who tonight/last night/tomorrow night’ and the ‘who’s been hired, who’s been fired’ and how much their bonus was worth.

  Even worse, Bella knew her little gang had picked this up and now thought of her as a slightly honorary member. She kind of wanted to be out of it, but was still hurt that they had sidelined her, closed ranks without her. It also really pissed her off that they didn’t get Don at all, couldn’t fathom what she was doing with a man who wasn’t interested in money.

  It did not take Bella long to get ready. She showered again and picked out a tried and tested outfit. Her get-dressed philosophy was simple – work the good stuff. She liked her face, her breasts and her hair and her legs from the knee down, so she never wore trousers except at the weekend and she always did heels and cleavage of some sort. Her long, dark hair was either piled up in a big chic bundle or let glossy-mane loose.

  She walked into the smart little function room shortly after 8 p.m. and could see Don perched on a stool by the side of the bar already but, before she could get over to him, she was leapt on by Mel.

  ‘Daaahling’ – kiss, kiss – ‘how are you? Looking foxy.’

  Mel looked pretty slinky herself in a tight crimson number.

  ‘Now come over here, Lucy wants you to meet the mob she’s working with at the moment and Jaz is around somewhere.’

  Bella managed a wave at Don before she was bombarded with a flurry of introductions. She set her face to interested smile and prepared to handshake. Network, network . . . that’s what it was all about.

  Almost an hour had passed before she finally made it over to see Don.

  ‘Hello.’ She put her arms round his waist and kissed him on the mouth, tasting whisky.

  ‘Hi Bella, you look lovely,’ he said.

  ‘Well you know, it’s my version of “Speak softly and carry a big stick”.’

  ‘What is?’ he laughed.

  ‘Speak like a financial whiz but wear a see-through dress,’ she answered.

  ‘Killer combination,’ he agreed.

  ‘Irresistible,’ she said and lit a cigarette.

  ‘D’you want to stay much longer?’ he asked.

  ‘A bit longer. I’ll go speak to Jasper and his new buddies, then we’ll make a move. You’re not too bored, are you?’

  ‘Nooo,’ he answered, ‘I’m chatting to everyone who drifts past.’

  ‘D’you want to come and speak to Jasper?’

  ‘OK, if you like.’

  He stood up and followed his wife through the throng, watching the glances she was attracting, dressed in her tight black satin skirt topped with a dark green chiffon blouse which looked demure, but on closer inspection turned out to be entirely transparent with the merest wisp of bra underneath.

  It pleased him to think how surprised the fleshy faces in pinstriped three-pieces would look when she left with him – the oldest and scruffiest man there, in a badly creased suit and scuffed suede boots.

  Finally they got out of the place and crammed into her tiny little car to race back home, Don marvelling at the fact that she could actually drive in those heels and that she’d restricted herself to two glasses of champagne – he hoped.

  As soon as they were back at the flat, Bella pushed him playfully up against the front door for a long, probing homecoming kiss. She felt him relax as she leaned into him. Slowly Don ran his hands down from her shoulders to her hips, pulling her in close to him.

  As they kissed, he felt for the zip at the back of her skirt and tugged it down so the satin slid into a heap at her feet. He moved his hands down, registering his appreciation that beyond the stocking tops, there was no underwear.

  ‘Oh God, I want to fuck you,’ he whispered into her ear.

  ‘Well . . . OK then,’ she said, putting her hand in his trousers.

  Later in bed, she lay curled up beside him and felt a flicker of guilt. Would he really forgive her if she got pregnant? She could reel off a list of reasons why he was not exactly a great Dad candidate: he was the chief reporter with a tabloid newspaper, so he worked really long hours, was away a lot, and liked a good drink with the lads. Even worse, he was in his forties, his own dad had left when he was just a small boy and he didn’t want kids.

  Christ. She leaned over to get a cigarette out of her handbag.

  He’d told her before they were married he didn’t want to spend his fifties dealing with a teenager and his retirement paying for a student. And yet . . . somehow she was convinced she could change his mind because she knew he was a good man and he loved her.

  ‘Don’t smoke in bed,’ Don groaned.

  ‘Don, please . . . I need a cigarette.’ She sat up now, so he could see her breasts bounce lightly against her chest, and put the cigarette between her lips. She clicked the lighter and took a deep drag, causing the end to glow and crackle.

  ‘OK, I’m going for a shower.’ He got up, leaving her in the bed in a pale cloud.

  Bella didn’t care; a warm plume of smoke was hitting the back of her throat and nicotine was surging into her veins. She lay back against the pillows and daydreamed about the gorgeous little baby they were going to have.

  Chapter Three

  BELLA LET HER hair down and brushed it through. She checked herself over in her small handbag compact and decided to apply the full-on red lipstick.

  How many times do we go out to celebrate winning a £500,000 contract? she thought to herself, smiling smugly. The Danson’s job was finally in the bag and it was due to her. She had met the company director socially and she had reeled him in.

  She was buzzing with excitement, too much nicotine and the small vat of coffee she’d consumed. The test she’d done this morning confirmed it was something else too – she was about to ovulate and by the law of the jungle, she should be hunting down a mate.

  The word put David Attenborough into her head . . . And here we have the Bella. She is 28 and she has to mate this season or her chance could be over. She will be cast out of the herd and the bull will reproduce with younger, more fertile females.

  God, listen to me, she checked herself. I’m still years away from my prime. Isn’t it scientifically proven not to kick in till 36?

  She knew she was looking good today in a smart but more than slightly sexy black, very tailored suit (which had cost about three times more than she’d ever intended to spend. Ooops). Her red silk shirt was casually unbuttoned to reveal a diamond slung onto a short chain and just a hint of cappuccino-coloured lace if she leaned over.

  She checked the time: 5.30 p.m., surely it wouldn’t be unreasonable for everyone to down tools and start the celebrations now? She e-mailed Chris.

  Can we go yet? you lovely sweet man. I’ve got bugger all else to do and I’m gasping for a nice cool glass of wine.

  Hello Bella – OK fine, so long as you’re still wearing that very hot suit you had on earlier.

  Of course I’m still wearing it. I don’t often prance around my office naked getting changed.

  Shame.

  When the alarm clock went off the next morning, she woke with a pounding
head and a disgusting taste at the back of her nose and throat.

  ‘Oh God,’ she groaned. The worst thing was, it was Friday today so she would still have to go for a jog and back into work to face the music.

  How could four professional people have made such a mess of a night out with the boss? Of course they had all drunk far too much. Susan had kept them waiting at the restaurant’s bar for three hours. And it wasn’t just drink.

  She didn’t know if it was Hector or Chris who had brought the coke in to spice up the celebrations, but Bella and Kitty had been passed a wrap and had sneaked off to the loos for a dose. Bottles and bottles of champagne, and cocaine as well. Bella cringed when she remembered what they were doing when Susan finally arrived – holding a farmyard noises competition.

  Somehow, with intense concentration, everyone had managed to sit at a table, order food and attempt to eat it. But Hector and Kit kept taking turns at getting up to go to the loo, sniffing heavily when they came back.

  Then they went off together and didn’t come back at all. Bella and Chris had been left at the table with Susan and she remembered trying to keep the sinking conversation afloat, painfully aware of the fact that she could hardly control her lips.

  Finally Susan had slammed her platinum Amex down on the table, paid the bill and left in obvious fury. And that was when the real trouble had begun.

  There was a newly opened bottle of champagne on the table and Chris had topped up their glasses, insisting it shouldn’t go to waste. Bella couldn’t remember much of a conversation, Chris had just reeled off drunken compliments and silly stories and she had giggled a lot.

  When the bottle was empty and it was time to go, he had of course suggested they share a cab as they lived in the same part of town. She had fallen back into the cab seat to find his arms around her and without a moment’s hesitation she had turned her face up and snogged him all the way home.

  Oh God. She closed her eyes but she couldn’t shake the memory. It had been so much fun. Despite the night of boozing, he had smelled and tasted good. They had spent the twenty-minute taxi ride entwined in long, probing, teasing kisses.

  Even worse, she remembered telling him: ‘This isn’t really me, Chris, my hormones are on overdrive and I have to mate.’

  CRINGE CRINGE. Why could she never have a memory blank like every one else seemed to when they got that drunk?

  She had arrived home to Don, legless, coked up to the eyeballs and probably with smeared lipstick and an unbuttoned shirt. Not surprisingly, he had been quietly furious. He had forced her to drink about three gallons of water then sent her to bed.

  She had absolutely no intention of saying anything about the snogging unless Don had already guessed and asked her first. A fresh wave of guilt broke over her: there was now an indelible blot on her marriage copybook and they hadn’t even been married a year, for God’s sake.

  It was one thing to have a little crush on someone in the office: quite another to go ramming your tongue down their throat.

  She got to work late, harassed and feeling awful. She hurried into her office and flicked on the computer. Among the e-mails waiting for her was:

  Bella, I’m out at a client’s all day. But I just wanted to let you know I’ve ordered a whopping bouquet for Susan this morning to atone for our sins. Good plan? Chris

  She sat down and sent him a one-word reply.

  Genius.

  She was sure he would not leave it at that and she was right. Just minutes later, her in-box was flashing.

  Oh hello, I’m glad you’ve finally appeared. I wouldn’t have said last night was a complete disaster . . .

  Chris, I think we all drank an awful lot. I’m trying not to think about it, I’m not sure I can remember the entire night.

  Well that sounds truly pathetic she thought as she hit the send button.

  Fine.

  She stared at the word on the screen and realized it would be best to leave the conversation there.

  ‘Hi.’ Kitty was at the door, looking pale, blotchy and lanky haired in a strangely sedate grey outfit, which meant she must be ill.

  ‘Oh darling,’ Bella winced. ‘Sit down and I’ll pour you some coffee from my lovely little machine over here and you can tell me all about your night of passion with Hector, you evil girl.’

  ‘He is lovely, isn’t he?’ Kitty said wanly, sinking into the seat.

  ‘Yeah – gorgeous.’ Bella hoped she didn’t sound too insincere.

  ‘I’ve fancied him for ages.’ Kitty picked up her coffee cup with a trembling hand. ‘We had coke and a grope in the Ladies but he didn’t come home with me, which I’m taking as a very bad sign. And he’s not in yet, so I don’t know what to think?’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Bella.

  ‘And what about you and Chris?’ Kitty added. ‘For a married woman, you looked very flirty.’

  ‘I did not!’ Bella launched straight in on the defensive. ‘We were trying to distract Susan from the fact that two of her staff had vanished. Chris is sorting out flowers for her this morning to apologize.’

  ‘He has a point,’ said Kitty.

  By four in the afternoon, Bella realized her work had been punctuated all day long with thoughts of Chris. He had such an indecently full mouth. She just needed to think about their long kisses to feel a little adrenalin hit.

  ‘I have got to get a grip,’ she told herself. ‘Just stop this. I want to have my husband’s baby, not an extra-marital fling.’

  But she could not silence the little voice in her head that kept telling her this was it – her last chance. Chris was one final opportunity for the wild abandon of a hot affair before she fully embraced motherhood and responsibility.

  ‘But I’ve already embraced responsibility.’ What the hell was this?? Nerves? She was married, she owed it to Don not to sleep around, not even once, not even if there was hardly any chance of him finding out.

  Over lunch Kitty had confessed in whispered giggles to licking coke off Hector’s dick in the loos and Bella had felt a stab of jealousy.

  Then she thought of Don and felt guilty. Married life was brilliant, but just occasionally she did hanker for the sexual adventure of singledom. Yes, it was like eating McDonald’s: you really, really wanted it, you enjoyed most of it, but you felt crap afterwards. Still, she thought marriage would suit her perfectly if she was allowed just the very occasional indiscretion. She would be so very discreet about her indiscretions.

  But the flip side was she would have to allow Don to do the same and she knew she could never, ever let him. She’d already warned him if he ever strayed, she’d snip his testicles off with nail scissors.

  What on earth was she doing messing around with Chris? For one thing, he was Susan’s partner, Bella’s immediate boss, and she’d always made it a rule not to sleep with the people she worked with. Even if she was single. I’m not single, she reminded herself sternly.

  Chapter Four

  ALL THE WAY home, she thought about her ovulating eggs. The weekend was going to be one long 1960s style love-in, John Lennon eat your heart out. It was time to think about Don, and Don alone . . . being in love with Don, having Don’s baby.

  Chris was a donut on a passing sweet trolley and she was not going to eat him. She was going to say No Thank You, I don’t think I’ll have dessert today . . . or ever again.

  It was a baby she wanted now. Baby, baby, think baby thoughts. No more sexual hedonism, unless it’s with that lovely man wearing your ring on his fourth finger.

  Dashing through the supermarket that evening, she’d felt almost out of control when she saw babies and toddlers bundled into trolley seats. She was overwhelmed with the desire to pick them up and squeeze them, push ripe banana into their adorable chubby little hands.

  This was becoming weird. Here she was buttoned into her expensive designer suit, zipping home in her successful career girl car, but in the depths of her butter-soft, hideously extravagant leather briefcase was the ovulation predictor kit she w
as now organizing her life around.

  A future without a child now seemed utterly unbearable.

  But nothing went to plan and by Sunday she was furious. She was left pacing up and down the flat, barely knowing what to do with herself. Over on the windowsill of the large, airy sitting room she saw her cigarette packet. Only three left, damn.

  So much for a love-in. The weekend had been a complete disaster. On Friday evening Don had gone on one of his legendary marathon drinking bouts and there was nothing she could say, shout or even scream down the mobile at him to make him come home.

  He hadn’t staggered in till the early hours of Saturday morning and then he’d spent most of the day asleep. She had been monumentally angry with him and he couldn’t really understand why.

  They had gone out for dinner on Saturday night, but Bella had spent most of the meal ranting at him for the night before and it wasn’t until Sunday morning that they had finally had make-up sex.

  They were still in bed when the phone rang and she knew as soon as Don had reached for a pen that he was being sent out on a job. He’d left for Wales soon after, telling her he could be away till the end of the week. She felt powerless, frustrated and furious. She was going to have to wait another whole month before they could try for a baby again.

  She threw herself down on to the sofa and lit up. After a few drags, she decided to phone Tania.

  It rang for a few moments before Tania picked up, sounding breathless.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Tani.’

  ‘Bella!’

  ‘Are you doing anything this afternoon that you can’t get out of?’

  ‘Hmm . . . sex?’

  ‘You can get out of that!’

  ‘Depends. How urgent is it?’

  ‘Pretty urgent. I’ve been abandoned by my husband for the week and I haven’t seen you in a towel for ages.’

  ‘Gym it is, then.’

  ‘When can you get there?’

  ‘Three-ish??’

  ‘I love you, Tan.’