All That Mullarkey

by Sue Moorcroft

  He straightened. ‘You just going to smirk at those girls all night, Martin? Or shall we try for some action?’

  It wasn’t until much later – when they’d seen the girls to their own vehicle after rounds of drinks and a Chinese meal, when he’d kissed all the lipstick off a woman called Anita and taken her phone number and they’d all piled into Drew’s car – that Martin asked, ‘So what’s she like, your kid?’

  Justin rubbed some feeling back into his legs where Anita had been sitting on his lap. ‘Cute. Fair hair with a row of curls at the back. Light-brown eyes, like mine. She was wearing a denim dress as big as a parachute and a hat like a knitted biscuit tin.’

  ‘Right,’ Drew said politely.

  Martin grinned from the driver’s seat. ‘And what about the mother? How’s she looking?’

  ‘Oh …’ Justin expelled a long breath and thought, with a sudden lift in his groin, of Cleo’s stroke-me jumper and her peachy little behind rolling under the fabric of her trousers. ‘Pretty good.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘This is going to be weird.’ Cleo lifted Shona’s buggy from the boot of the car where they’d parked behind the funfair.

  Justin had been back in her life for three months now – or rather in Shona’s life. Shona was the focus of his attention whenever Cleo saw him. But it had been Justin’s idea to go on a ‘family outing’ to Hunstanton. ‘It’ll be a nice day. We can show Shona the sea, take her paddling, give her a taste of the great British seaside.’ He joggled Shona in his arms and she turned her face into the breeze, screwing up her nose.

  It would have been smart to wear a swimming costume beneath her clothes but Cleo hadn’t thought of it. So she was left struggling uncomfortably behind a towel. And Justin – who had worn his trunks under his jeans, of course – held Shona’s hand whilst Shona touched seashells with her toes.

  ‘Damn!’ Cleo tutted as she fumbled her knickers onto the sand.

  Justin grinned. ‘You drop your knickers too easily.’

  Almost losing her towel as she hoiked her costume up to her waist. ‘Actually, it’s been over two years …’ She stopped. Bugger, damn, blast, if only she could bite that back! The silence seemed to hang her last words in the air in big black letters.

  Arms shoved through straps under T-shirt, T-shirt snatched over her head, she aimed for composure and turned to her daughter. ‘Let’s paddle.’

  She took Shona’s other hand and they strolled down to where the wavelets were frilly. Mr and Mrs Average and their child, enjoying a day on the sand.

  As the first cold water reached Shona’s rounded feet she yipped and went sharply into reverse, then changed her mind and followed the wave out again. Cleo smiled as Shona laughed at the waves, stiffening as each ran further up her legs. ‘Col’!’

  ‘Cold,’ Cleo agreed. ‘But nice?’ Shona’s expression suggested it wasn’t that nice and the tugging to free her hands declared that she’d ventured deep enough. Cleo stayed with her while Justin waded in to porpoise through the sparkling waves, resurfacing further and further out.

  The breeze whisked Cleo’s hair in front of her eyes as, not for the first time, she adjusted herself to a new responsibility. It was her job to keep Shona safe. The sea on the east coast could be treacherous and undercurrents had been known to snaffle children from right beneath parents’ noses.

  Still. It was difficult to conceive of an undertow that would drag Shona under in these six inches of salty froth. She risked a glance in Justin’s direction, allowing herself to watch the water run off his back as he waited for a wave. To notice – she could hardly help noticing – the way his swimming shorts clung now they were wet and …

  She whipped around at the splash beside her as Shona tripped and executed a fine belly flop. ‘Oh, whoops, up you jump!’ Guiltily, Cleo hauled Shona to her feet. ‘Did that taste nasty? What a sad face. Never mind, let’s find your bucket and spade.’

  Spurts of sand were soon flying though the air to shower Cleo’s hair and eyes, as Shona added a sandy layer to a liberal coating of factor 25. They were both laughing at her fat, sandy legs when Justin returned.

  How could Cleo not be aware of him drying his back, his arms, head, leaving his hair in spikes. He dropped down beside her and raised his eyebrows. ‘Two years?’

  Very interesting, watching Shona. Cleo couldn’t unglue her eyes. ‘Mmm?’ she answered vaguely. Then, ‘Shona, look at these shells. Black, look, see?’

  ‘B’ack,’ Shona nodded.

  ‘Really, two years?’

  Picking up a little blue plastic mould, Cleo packed it with damp sand and tipped it over to make the shape of a sea horse. ‘Sea horse, Shona!’ Shona reached out a small, plump hand and tried to pick the sea horse up.

  ‘’Gain!’ she demanded, when it was reduced to a pat of sand between her fingers.

  Cleo made another. Another and another and another for Shona to destroy with a quick grab and a huge chuckle. Another so that Justin would keep answering Shona’s chuckles with his own, another so that he’d lose the thread of his thoughts.

  If only.

  ‘You’re kidding about the two years, right?’ he persisted, when Shona had become fed up with sea horses and was engrossed in the sensation of pushing her toes through dry sand.

  Cleo began filling the castle-shaped bucket so as not to have to look at him. ‘Celibacy’s very “in”.’

  He made a disbelieving noise.

  She turned the bucket upside down and smacked it with the pink spade. Shona immediately grabbed the spade and began beating the bucket’s bottom with grim concentration. ‘Ban-ban-ban-ban-bang!’

  He was still waiting, Cleo could tell without looking. Oh, what did it matter? What harm could she possibly do her image, maimed and bandaged already in his eyes? She lifted the bucket from a perfect sandcastle and watched as Shona pushed it slowly over with her feet. ‘First I was pregnant and newly separated – not pulling points.’ She laughed to prove she wasn’t whingeing. ‘Then I was a single mum, too busy, babysitters too few and far between. I’ll get around to it, when the time’s right.’

  Another sandcastle, another Shona bulldozing job. The sun went in and Cleo slipped Shona back into her dress. Even when the sun was shining, the breeze was still enough to raise goosebumps and Cleo was glad to wriggle into her own T-shirt and jeans, conscious of the gritty layer on her skin.

  ‘Gink!’ demanded Shona, losing interest in sea, beach and candy-pink bucket.

  ‘Here’s your cup – let’s get you back in your buggy while I clean you up.’ Cleo brushed sand from Shona’s feet while Justin repacked a backpack of mountaineer’s proportions – proving that, thankfully, he wasn’t a man who would hover helplessly.

  They found a pub garden with a lawn and seats in the shape of wooden animals and ate seaside fish and chips for lunch, with mugs of tea and thick slices of buttered bread.

  ‘Good to give this a go,’ said Justin. ‘Spending a day together for Shona’s sake.’

  Licking salty fingers, Cleo shrugged. ‘I’m glad you can give up the time.’

  He grimaced. ‘It’s nice to get away from the flat, to be honest. My old tenants, the Blumfields, seem to be playing juvenile revenge games because I hoofed them out when I got back to England. You know the kind of thing – insurance men arriving for mythical appointments, the police screeching up because they’d had a report of a woman screaming in my flat, that kind of prank stuff.’

  ‘Was there one?’

  ‘What? A woman?’ He grinned. ‘I’m seeing someone called Anita so she’s been there. But not screaming. Now they’ve started putting disgusting things through the letter box, dog-do and a dead rabbit’s head.’

  ‘Sounds as if it’s getting beyond a joke.’ Trying not to think about a woman called Anita in his flat, Cleo snapped off the delicious battery tail of her fish and ate it with her fingers.

  Justin frowned. ‘I’m hoping they’ll get tired of all these pranks very soon. But I think
the scumbags have moved into another flat nearby, because lately I’ve seen them about a lot. The bloke always shouts, “Fucking getchoo!” at me, so I’m pretty sure that he hasn’t forgiven me for wanting my flat back.’

  After, they pushed Shona’s buggy past the bandstand and up the hill towards Old Hunstanton. Cars whizzed past on one side and gardens blazing with marigolds gazed out to sea on the other.

  Justin took over pushing the buggy up the hill. ‘Why did you and your husband split up?’

  She felt a big, silent sigh heave her chest. ‘He slept with someone else.’ All this soul-baring was supposed to be behind her.

  He snorted. ‘So did you.’

  She made herself face his mocking eyes and the eyebrows raised over them. ‘So it wasn’t much of a marriage any more, was it? He had a ding-dong with Lillian, a sex bomb he worked with and professed to dislike, then had to avoid sex with me because he thought he’d caught something nasty. Just when he thought he was safe with a clean bill of health, he got careless. I overheard him talking. All the ugly truths.

  ‘Then his mother died in an accident and Gav had to cope with the grieving of his dad and pregnant sister, and a wife who wouldn’t stay.’

  They approached the top of the hill. After a moment Justin said, ‘Poor bastard.’

  ‘That’s how I felt. But when I admitted I’d also slept with someone and was almost sure I was pregnant, that’s when he told me he’d known for years he was infertile.’

  She felt Justin turn sharply. ‘And you really didn’t know?’

  She shook her head. ‘I thought we’d just decided against kids. He was always vehemently anti-children but it was just a cover.’ She paused to get her breath, gazing out at a white-tipped sea where a dozen tiny sailing dinghies rounded a buoy, her hair blowing around her head. ‘End of marriage. I moved out. Despite Shona, he didn’t want me to go.’ She paused, staring out at the wind-ruffled waves. ‘He’s been living near his dad for a while but now he’s thinking about coming back.’

  ‘To live with you and Shona?’ Apprehension threaded his voice.

  Oh. Cleo felt fresh realisation and obligation settle around her. She’d assumed there was no one to be affected by her decisions, once she and Gav split. But there was. There was. If she wanted anyone to come and live with her, it could affect Justin’s relationship with Shona.

  She turned away from the eye-aching brightness of the sea’s glitter.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cleo leaned back and let the wine float her mind. It was quite a novelty, these days, the chill of the wine glass in her hand and Liza perched on the seat of the wine bar beside her. The decor of antiqued gold and grass green made Cleo think of warm sunny evenings, relaxing and secure.

  Contentedly, she mused, ‘The more I drink, the more desirable and interesting I become.’ She sloshed her glass in a gesture at the busy bar. ‘Bet I could pull any man in this room.’

  Liza blew a raspberry. ‘Bollocks. You get horny when you’re drunk and think you’re desirable and blah-blah.’

  Cleo sighed so hard that a nearby couple glanced up. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

  ‘And I would’ve thought you’d learnt your lesson about drink and your love life.’ Liza drained her glass. ‘How is Justin?’

  Just as unsettling as ever. ‘OK, I suppose.’

  Liza pushed her empty glass away. ‘And he’s really babysitting Shona at your place?’

  Cleo nodded, then stopped, because it made the room tip.

  It had felt extremely odd leaving Justin in her house. For the fortieth time she checked her mobile in case he’d been trying to contact her. ‘He doesn’t want her in his place just now because he’s being hassled by his old tenants – prank phone calls and putting dead stuff through the letter box.’

  ‘Yurrr!’ Liza mimed the action of vomiting. ‘Gross! What do the Old Bill say?’

  Cleo shrugged. ‘They spoke to the ex-tenants who, predictably, denied all knowledge.’

  ‘They would, wouldn’t they? Christ, let’s go get coffee. My eyes are crossing.’

  They wandered, reasonably steadily, into the red-vinyl aromatic warmth of the coffee bar across the road. It was busy but they found one of the tall tables free, in a corner. ‘Short skirts, high heels, high stools – definitely a challenge!’ Liza gave a whoop and hopped onto a stool, tossing back her hair.

  As she struggled to slide up onto her stool in more cautious style, Cleo’s giggle became a squawk of horror. ‘Change places with me quickly! There’s someone I don’t want to see.’ She pushed at Liza’s shoulder.

  Liza clung onto the table. ‘Must be kidding, I’ve only just hoisted myself up here. Who, anyway? Ah, the blond twins. They’re not bad, are they?’

  Despite having been in a relationship for six months – an all-time record – with Lovely Bloke Adam, Liza couldn’t break the habit of running her inbuilt desire-o-meter over men. But latte arriving in huge thick red cups, delicious and aromatic, distracted them both from Drew and Martin, who weren’t looking over to their corner in any case.

  ‘So,’ Liza said, touching her impeccably made-up lips minutely to the too-hot surface of the coffee. ‘Tell me about the trip to the seaside. Can’t imagine Justin playing Daddies. Did he buy Shona candyfloss and toffee apple, then give her promptly to you when she honked?’

  Cleo struggled to get a grip of her giant cup. ‘Actually he’s fine with Shona and adapts to her limitations. And incredibly,’ she glanced at Drew and Martin, then lowered her voice, ‘he seems besotted with her. Something I hadn’t anticipated. My life’s getting way too complex. With work and Shona I scarcely have time to meet anyone else, particularly someone cool about me being a single parent. And now I’ve realised I kind of need Justin’s approval.’

  Liza snorted. ‘What for?’

  Cleo groaned. ‘Because whoever I’m close to will be close to Shona. It’s not fair for that to be somebody Justin doesn’t like.’

  ‘’Course it is, it’s your life.’

  ‘But Shona’s life isn’t mine. She’s shared.’

  Clattering her cup to its saucer, Liza snapped, ‘I think you’ll find, in law, Justin has no rights except to stump up for Shona’s keep.’

  ‘But there’s honour and integrity, apart from law.’

  Liza slapped her hand theatrically on the table. ‘Crap! Bullshit. A crock of … Ooh look, here’s my Adam!’

  ‘Oh … hi Adam.’ Cleo suppressed a sigh. Adam. Gangly, tawny, besotted Adam, love of Liza’s life, was currently folding himself around Liza with relish and satisfaction. Brilliant. Probably adoring old Adam had searched them out so he could spend the night with Liza. Cleo was supposed to be sleeping in Liza’s spare room and would end up trying not to listen through the wall. Oh, what fun.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Although he was about to slide into the sleeping-bag bed, Justin went up and peeped into Shona’s pine cot for one last time, to reassure himself that she was breathing.

  He touched the back of his hand to the moist warmth of her cheek. This was his daughter. An unbreakable tie to Cleo, madwoman Cleo, the woman he’d least intended to be tied to, the one who’d been bad for him and who he’d decided to forget. His child: asleep in a cot in Cleo’s comfortable room of natural earthy colours and sexy satin textures. He’d never been in Cleo’s bedroom before, although he’d entered her body and maybe even some way into her mind. Intimate and yet distant. If he were to crawl under her quilt now, lay his head on her pillow, she’d never know … He shook himself. Sad. He’d have to watch it.

  He thought of her changing on the beach, not wanting him to hold the towel. From behind his sunglasses he’d pretended not to watch her, but wondered about her body post-childbirth.

  Pity if it had suffered. Not that there was much sign, in a swimsuit it all looked pretty tidy. He had a sudden, freshened memory of her. Her skin against his, hair slithering, mouth …

  One last look at Shona and he backed from the room. />
  Clambering through the stair gate, a stride and a half from the front door, he froze. A scratchy scraping told him that somebody was trying to get in. The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. The knob turned suddenly and the door shot open.

  And, surprise, surprise, in tottered Cleo.

  She leapt like a guilty kitten. ‘Oh shit!’ she yelped, clutching her heart. ‘You stupid arse, what are you lurking about in your boxers for? I nearly had a heart attack.’ She leaned her back against the doorframe and her knees buckled gently until she knelt inelegantly on the floor.

  He gazed down sternly, biting back a smile. ‘No wonder you get into scrapes. Drunk on the floor, skirt up to your knickers –’

  She gathered her legs beneath her. ‘I’m not drunk. I just decided not to stay at Liza’s. We met Adam, and Liza wanted him to go back to her flat, so I decided to get a taxi – at huge expense … Who the fuck d’you think you are, you disapproving arse? My mother?’

  Justin laughed. ‘Yeah, right, I did sound like someone’s mother. Give me your hand. Ready? Hup!’ Co-operatively, she thrust herself to her feet and nearly toppled him onto the stairs. He had to grab the handrail to stop them both falling, her breasts pressing for an instant against his bare chest.

  He freed himself. ‘Go and sit in the kitchen, I’ll make coffee.’ He nipped into the sitting room to where his sleeping bag lay over the air bed and pulled on a T-shirt.

  In the kitchen Cleo had pillowed her head on the table and closed her eyes. ‘I was OK till I got in the taxi. But now I feel a little bit … whizzy.’

  ‘Whizzy. Right, I’ll get you some sparkling water and paracetamol.’ He also made black coffee – if it was an old wives’ tale that it would help her, he’d chance it – and took the opposite chair. She drank the water, took the tablets and blew on the coffee. Hair tumbled and face flushed, Cleo’s half-shut eyes glittered like marcasite.

  Halfway down the coffee, her eyes opened fully. ‘You’d been upstairs. Did Shona wake?’