Mad About You

by Sinéad Moriarty

  Sean, my brother, and I had talked about it a lot. Neither of us really knew where Babs had come from. She was so different from us in so many ways. But somehow Gary had got to her. It was the first time I’d ever seen her fall for someone. I was really worried how she’d cope when he dumped her. She was so impulsive and bolshie that she was likely to smash a bottle over his head or call up his wife. I needed to keep a close eye on her and catch her when she fell.

  While Babs was filming, I called James to ask if he’d found out who had sent the vibrator.

  ‘I’m working on it,’ he said, sounding cross. ‘I’ve had a meeting with all the players and the staff and told them how appalled I was about the texts and the package that had been sent to my house. I didn’t say what it was, but I implied it was something unsavoury. But none of the players would admit to it. And the captain, Johnny, just came into my office to tell me that he had personally asked each player and they had all strenuously denied knowing anything about it. He was quite upset. He said they were very happy with me as a coach and he really felt none of them would do anything stupid to wind me up.’

  ‘Did you ask Ken, the guy you’d dropped?’

  ‘Yes, but he swore he hadn’t done anything.’

  ‘Well, then, who was it?’

  ‘Honestly, Emma, I don’t know what to think.’

  I smacked the wall with my palm. ‘God, James, this is beginning to creep me out.’

  ‘I know, but for now I have no other leads. I’ll keep at it, though. I’ll keep asking questions and see if I can figure it out.’

  ‘OK. ’Bye.’ I felt deflated. I’d been really hoping James would say that Ken was the guilty party and that he had fired him. Damn.

  I really needed to talk to someone, so I sent Lucy a text. Do u want to make up for not calling back on Sat?

  Yes please! So sorry.

  I need to talk to you about smthg. U free for cuppa this avo? I’m finishing early.

  Call around to the office. I can show u where I spend my life!

  I got the tube to Cannon Street and walked up the road to number twenty-five. I went through the glass doors of Image Leasing into the plush reception area. It had a luxurious slate grey carpet and the walls were covered with big canvases of modern art. It was very impressive.

  Lucy’s door was open and she was sitting back in her chair, talking animatedly to a man of about fifty. ‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ I said.

  She jumped up and came over to hug me, then introduced me to Paul, one of her partners. ‘Lovely to meet you.’ He shook my hand. ‘Lucy tells me your husband is James Hamilton.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, he’s had a fantastic start at London Irish. I’m a big fan of the club and I can tell you we were relieved when we heard he was taking over. The last fellow was a disaster.’

  Lucy handed me coffee in a delicate china cup. Everything about the office was stylish and spoke of success.

  I smiled at Paul. ‘Well, let’s hope they continue to win. It makes my life a whole lot easier.’

  He laughed. ‘I can imagine. Now, Emma, I need to ask you, do you play golf?’

  ‘No, there aren’t enough hours in my day for that.’

  ‘Ah, but you see that’s the wrong way of looking at it. It’s a fantastic de-stresser. You’re out and about in the fresh air and you’re thinking of nothing but your next shot. It’s also excellent for networking. I play every Saturday morning. I was just trying to persuade Lucy to take it up.’

  Lucy rolled her eyes. ‘Can you imagine Donal’s face if I announced I was going to play eighteen holes of golf on Saturday mornings?’

  Paul came over to top up my coffee. ‘Donal has to understand that Lucy works fourteen-hour days and she needs to decompress. We all do. I had heart problems a few years ago and the specialist said it’s very important to have your fresh air and exercise and switch off for a few hours.’

  Lucy patted his shoulder. ‘That’s all very well, Paul. You have a wife who will look after your children while you swan around the golf course for five hours. I have a husband who is waiting at the front door when I arrive back on Friday and literally throws my child into my arms and goes out to work.’

  ‘No offence, Paul, but men just don’t get it,’ I said. ‘James comes home late most nights. He can do that because I’m there to look after the children. But what if I had to work late? Who would look after the kids? A married man always has back-up – his wife. A married woman doesn’t.’

  Paul smiled. ‘The solution is very simple – hire a nanny.’

  ‘You can’t leave your kids with a nanny twenty-four/seven. At some point they want to see a parent,’ I replied.

  ‘I’m always saying that working women need wives,’ Lucy said. ‘Donal’s great and he looks after Serge when I’m away, but he resents it and disappears all weekend, which means I never get any time to myself. If I had a wife, she’d just accept I had to work away and would be happy to see me when I got home.’

  I frowned. ‘Hold on a minute, Lucy. If you had a wife and you worked away all week, I’m sure she would mind. No one wants to be alone all the time with the kids. It’s hard work and it’s lonely.’

  There was a silence that lasted a fraction too long. Paul spoke up again. ‘I commuted to Berlin for years. I wouldn’t say my wife loved it, but she was able to afford a lot of help and she certainly enjoyed spending the money I was making. I don’t think it’s as difficult as you women make out.’

  I put my hands up. ‘Have you dealt with two simultaneous tantrums in a supermarket? Have you spent hours cooking a nutritious dinner only to have it spat out? Have you spent three hours freezing your arse off in the park, catatonic with boredom, while your kids go up and down a slide? Have you tried to scoop poo out of bathwater?’

  Paul laughed. ‘No, but nor has my wife. Like I said, she’s always had help around the house.’

  I was annoyed by his persistence. ‘No matter how much help you have, your children still want you in the middle of the night when they have a bad dream. They still want you when they wet the bed, when they’re sick or tired or when they’ve had a bad day at school. I understand that having a husband who earns a big salary would make your life easier, but it’s still no picnic. I’ve stayed at home and I’ve worked and, I can tell you, working is a lot easier.’

  Before Paul could respond, the receptionist came in and told him his conference call was about to begin.

  Lucy went over and closed her door. ‘So, what’s up? You sounded very serious on the phone. Are you OK?’

  I filled her in on all the recent drama. ‘The thing is, Lucy, if it’s not this guy Ken, who the hell is it? I’m beginning to think James might be cheating on me.’

  ‘No! James wouldn’t do that. He’s mad about you.’

  ‘Really? What about Mandy?’

  Lucy paused. ‘OK, he had a flirtation with someone, but that’s all it was. Come on, haven’t you flirted with someone since you’ve been married?’

  I thought about it for a minute. Had I? A guest on Afternoon with Amanda, the show I used to work on, had caught my eye. He was the resident doctor on the show and advised callers on their medical problems. He was good-looking and very charismatic, and we had flirted a bit while I did his makeup, but it had been innocent enough. He had asked me out for coffee once and I’d said no. I’d been tempted to go, but it would have taken things in a direction I might have regretted.

  ‘I suppose I did with one guy.’

  ‘You see?’ Lucy waved her hand in my direction. ‘You’re not innocent either. But flirting is nothing. It’s just reminding yourself that you’re still a sexual being, that you’re not just a boring mother and wife. It’s a national pastime in Italy, so it really means nothing. You have to stop obsessing about Mandy. James didn’t sleep with her. It was a passing fancy.’

  It was easy for Lucy to say. She hadn’t seen the way James had looked at Mandy. I knew that look. It was the way he’d looked at m
e when we’d first met. I still wondered whether, if he hadn’t got fired, he would have had an affair with her. I’d never seen him like that with anyone else. It had frightened me.

  ‘You’re right, I do obsess about it. But the texts and the vibrator are real. I mean, they sent the vibrator to our house. Don’t you think that’s really weird?’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it. I think it’s positively bizarre and a bit sick. The guy must be brain damaged.’

  ‘What if it isn’t a guy?’

  Lucy frowned. ‘OK, for the sake of argument, let’s say James is sleeping with someone. What woman would send a vibrator to the wife of the man she’s having an affair with? It just doesn’t add up. It’s too odd. It has to be some moron at the rugby club. You know what some of those rugby guys are like. They can be so immature, like hormonal teenagers.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ I wasn’t sure what to think any more. The vibrator had blind-sided me. My head throbbed.

  Paul popped his head round the door. ‘Sorry to interrupt, Lucy, but we need you on this call.’

  Lucy headed for the conference room and I headed home.

  19

  When I got home, I found Lara, Yuri and Claire sitting around the kitchen table making puppets from paper plates and coloured paper. The children were thrilled with their new toys.

  ‘Look, Mummy, it’s a ladybird,’ Lara said.

  ‘Mine’s a scary spider,’ Yuri said, waving it in my face.

  ‘Wow, they’re really brilliant,’ I enthused. I was delighted that Claire was doing arts and crafts with the kids. It was something I rarely did. For some reason, whenever I planned something like that, the result was invariably dreadful and the kids lost interest. Blue Peter was never going to be knocking on my door, that was for sure.

  ‘And we went to the shop and boughted blackberries and made a cake,’ Yuri added.

  ‘It’s not a cake, it’s a rumble,’ Lara corrected him.

  ‘Crumble? Yum! I love blackberry crumble and it’s Daddy’s favourite.’

  ‘You seemed a bit hassled this morning, so we wanted to make something nice for you,’ Claire said.

  ‘That was so sweet of you.’

  ‘Is everything OK? Can I help at all?’ she asked.

  I looked at my beautiful children, so happy and sweet and adorable. ‘Everything’s fine. I have something on my mind, but it’s not a big deal.’

  ‘Would you like me to heat up the crumble now, or would you prefer to wait and have it with James when he gets home?’

  ‘I’ll heat it up later. If I start it now, there’ll be none left for him!’

  Claire started tidying the kitchen table, putting the craft things away. ‘I heard James’s team won on Saturday. That’s great. I guess it means he’ll be working late a lot, preparing for the next game?’

  ‘I hope not. The deal was that he’d get through that game, then start keeping more regular hours.’

  ‘Well, if you need me to do extra to help you out, I’d be happy to. By the way, I made a lasagne for your dinner. It’s in the fridge.’

  ‘Thanks, Claire. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.’ She really was fantastic. I was too tired to cook anything and now it was all done.

  ‘It was easy to do. I also finished the ironing.’

  I smiled at her. ‘Brilliant. James says you’re by far the best ironer we’ve ever had.’

  Claire blushed. ‘I actually like ironing,’ she said. ‘I find it very soothing.’

  Soothing? I found it really frustrating. Just when you got one side of a shirt crease-free, another crease would appear on the other. It drove me nuts.

  ‘How are things with you?’ I asked. ‘Were you out this weekend at all?’

  She stacked the children’s dinner plates in the dishwasher. ‘I’m kind of seeing a guy actually,’ she said shyly.

  ‘Oh, my God, that’s fantastic! Is he nice?’ I was thrilled for her.

  ‘Well, I’m taking it slowly. We’re still getting to know each other.’

  ‘I’m so pleased for you.’ I noticed she was wearing new red trainers. It was a start: maybe she’d begin making more of an effort with her appearance now she had a boyfriend. ‘If you ever want me to make you up for a date or anything, just ask. I’d be happy to do it.’

  ‘Thanks so much,’ she said.

  The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. An oddly familiar woman was standing outside in a raincoat.

  ‘Emma?’ she said, holding out a hand.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Maggie, Claire’s mum.’

  ‘Oh, right. Hello, nice to meet you.’ I ushered her in out of the rain. She was an older version of Claire.

  ‘I was working late at Poppy’s and I thought I’d call in and walk home with Claire.’

  ‘No problem. I must say we’re so happy with Claire – she’s just wonderful.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good.’ She looked pleased. ‘So, everything’s going well, then?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better.’

  ‘Poppy tells me your husband is a rugby coach. That’s exciting.’

  ‘He’s with London Irish.’ I didn’t think it was so exciting any more.

  ‘Does that mean he’s around much during the day?’

  ‘What?’ I looked at Maggie, and then I understood. She was worried about Claire being around an older man after her bad experience with the teacher.

  ‘My husband is hardly ever here, to be honest. He works very long hours. I did notice that Claire was terribly shy around him in the beginning, but she’s coming out of her shell a little more each week. James thinks she’s great too.’

  When we walked into the kitchen and Claire saw her mother, she frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, in a not too friendly tone.

  ‘I thought we could go home together,’ Maggie said. ‘It’s getting dark earlier and I don’t like you being alone.’

  ‘I don’t need a chaperone, Mum. You’re like a stalker,’ Claire snapped.

  I could see that Claire found her mother overbearing and I felt for her – my own mother drove me to drink sometimes. But I also understood why Maggie felt protective of her. I thought it was sweet that she had come round to walk her home. Claire’s reaction reminded me that she was still a teenager – we’d all gone through that phase of being embarrassed by our mothers.

  ‘Are you Claire’s mummy?’ Lara asked.

  ‘Yes, pet, I am.’ Maggie leant down to talk to her.

  ‘You looks just like her,’ Lara said.

  ‘And you look like your mummy,’ Maggie pointed out.

  ‘Yes, but Babs said I’m lucky cos I don’t have Mummy’s yucky hair. I have beautifuller yellow hair like Babs.’

  Maggie seemed taken aback.

  ‘My sister’s a bit mad,’ I explained.

  ‘I doesn’t look like Mummy or Daddy cos I comed from an orf’nage, but I’m the same as them in all the other ways,’ Yuri said.

  Maggie went over to him. ‘I’ve heard all about you. Claire is always telling me what great children you are.’

  ‘I love Claire,’ Lara said, going over to hug her.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Maggie?’ I offered.

  ‘No, thank you. We’ll be off now and leave you in peace.’ Maggie picked up Claire’s coat and bag and ushered her out.

  Claire whispered to me, as Maggie left the room, ‘Don’t say anything about my boyfriend. I don’t want her to find out.’

  I winked at her. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’

  20

  I woke up on Wednesday morning feeling rested for the first time in days. Until last night I hadn’t slept properly since the vibrator incident on Saturday. Apart from a brief nightmare, when I’d dreamt Babs had killed Gary with an axe and gone to prison, I’d had a good night.

  By this evening, Gary would know about the baby and I suspected my sister would have discovered what a scumbag he really was.

  I turned to James. ‘Don’t forg
et I need you home early. Babs is telling Gary and we both know what his reaction is going to be.’

  James rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. ‘It’s not going to be pretty. I wouldn’t be surprised if Babs stabbed him in the face with her fork or something.’

  ‘Jesus, James, don’t say that. I’m worried enough as it is.’

  ‘Sorry!’ He closed the bathroom door and I could hear the shower running.

  His phone beeped. I checked the message: I am H4Y. IWS .

  Christ, what was this? I had no idea what the texts even meant, so I called the one person who would be able to decipher them: Babs.

  ‘It’s eight o’clock in the bloody morning so this’d better be an emergency,’ Babs croaked. ‘You know we don’t have to be in until eleven today.’

  ‘I need help. James just got another text and I don’t understand it. It’s all coded and I need to know what it means.’ I read the text out.

  Babs sighed. ‘“H4Y” is obviously “Hot for You”. And “IWS” is “I Want Sex”. I’m going back to sleep now. Do not call me unless someone is dying. In fact, don’t call unless someone is actually dead.’ Babs hung up and I sat in bed, waiting for James to come in from the bathroom.

  As I was waiting the door burst open and Yuri came in with a pile of post. He was waving something around.

  ‘What have you got there? I asked, still distracted by the text.

  ‘It’s a present, Mummy.’ He put the post on the bed and concentrated on the package. He ripped the paper off the ‘present’. Something fell out. ‘Wow!’ He sounded thrilled. ‘Come on, Mummy, play with me. You be the bad guy and I’ll be the policeman and I’ll put these clickies on you.’

  I peered at his hand. Jesus Christ, he was holding a pair of leather handcuffs. I grabbed them, but he refused to let go. ‘No! I founded them, they’re mine.’

  I ripped them out of his hand and grabbed the paper. There was a printed label, addressed to Mrs Emma Hamilton and a card that said: J loves using these on me.

  A sob escaped from my mouth, but it was drowned by Yuri wailing, ‘Give them back to meeeeeeee.’