A Spring Affair

by Milly Johnson

  At the other side of town, Tom and Lou were sitting in the café with their hands over their eyes awaiting the arrival of the Brando.

  ‘Da da!’ announced Deb. ‘Now you can look!’

  Tom and Lou opened their eyes to see, not a monster cake but two huge ciabatta rolls stuffed with ham, egg, slices of sausage, mushrooms, and a basil-smelling tomato dressing that sent their salivary glands into overdrive.

  ‘Everything grilled in a splash of olive oil, just to give people a chance at surviving it.’ Deb sighed. She wished her mam could have been here to see this. She would have been in her element.

  ‘Wow,’ said Lou.

  ‘I thought it was going to be pudding, not that I’m in the slightest bit put off,’ said Tom, who didn’t wait for an invitation to tuck in.

  ‘Well,’ hummed Deb, ‘it just seemed like too good a name to pass up. A bit classier than a “belt-buster”, don’t you think? Talking of which, you should see our new uniforms. We’re going to have to decide on a name for this café soon because we’ll have to get logos stitched on them.’

  Tom’s eyes opened wide. ‘You’ve got uniforms?’

  ‘Black mini-dresses with stockings and six-inch heels,’ said Deb.

  OK, he knew she was joking, but the idea of Lou in that get-up hit the spot rather instantly. Deb guessed it had by the wriggle he did in his seat and laughed. She also noticed Lou was a little more reticent about tucking in.

  ‘Come on, Lou, get that sausage down your throat. Ho ho.’

  Lou didn’t speak. She picked up her knife and fork and stared at the plate, then dropped them and ran upstairs, holding her mouth.

  Tom looked at Deb.

  ‘Hmmm. I thought she’s been looking a bit pale,’ said Deb.

  ‘I’ll go after her,’ said Tom, wiping his mouth, but Deb pushed him down into his seat.

  ‘Romantic as your intentions are, Tom, when a woman’s vomiting, she likes a little privacy. It’s a total myth that they like you holding their hair back whilst you’re watching them spew their guts up.’

  ‘Has she said anything to you–you know, about him?’ Tom asked, his heart fluttering unpleasantly.

  ‘Only that the solicitor said the divorce papers have been posted and Phil should get them today. She’s bound to be a bit worried, Tom. It’ll just be a touch of stress.’

  ‘I’m terrified she’ll go back to him, Deb. I’m scared I’m too boring for her.’

  ‘What on earth makes you think that?’

  ‘She keeps dropping off to sleep on me for a start.’

  ‘Don’t talk wet. We’re knackered, the pair of us,’ although she said that for Tom’s benefit, because Deb could hardly sleep with all the adrenaline zipping around her system. ‘Cut her some slack, Tom. She’s totally besotted with you but she’s been through a lot recently. There’s nothing to worry about, I’d put my life savings on it. All three pounds fifty of them!’

  They heard the faint rumble of the upstairs toilet being flushed.

  ‘Besides which, if she goes back to him, I’ll make her into these sausages and fry her up for lorry drivers,’ Deb went on, giving him her biggest encouraging smile.

  Tom managed a little laugh, but he wasn’t feeling the slightest bit jolly inside.

  Five minutes later, Lou came back downstairs to two sympathetic faces.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Deb, giving her friend’s arm a stroke.

  ‘Yes, much better,’ said Lou. ‘Sorry about that–I’ve ruined your grand launch.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Deb, popping a slice of tomato-drenched sausage into her mouth from Lou’s plate. ‘Waste not, want not. Here, have a cup of tea.’

  ‘Thanks, but I just want a glass of water.’

  ‘You’ve been overdoing things,’ said Deb. ‘You need to get back to bed for a rest. Doesn’t she, Tom?’

  ‘Yes, she does,’ nodded Tom, who had a head full of thoughts he really didn’t want.

  ‘No chance,’ said Lou. ‘We’ve got stacks of things to do and the sooner we finish them, the sooner we open. Plus I’ve promised another one of Mrs Serafinska’s friends that I’ll pop in and see her about some clutter-clearing, although God knows when I’ll get around to doing that.’

  ‘Well, May seemed to manage this place on her own,’ said Deb. ‘We can always get some part-time help in if you want to go clutter-clearing.’

  ‘That’s hardly fair on you, is it?’ said Lou.

  ‘Well, I don’t see why not,’ said Deb. ‘If you want to go off and shift rubbish sometimes, you go right ahead and do it. We’re living out our dreams, Lou; we have to go with the flow. Think about it: if you hadn’t started clearing up your life in the first place, we might not be here. I think we owe the powers-that-be a little respect in this matter.’

  ‘You don’t half talk some rubbish yourself at times,’ grinned Lou, ‘although, if I do the occasional job, I’ll obviously plough the money back into the café–OK?’

  ‘Whatever makes you happy, buddy,’ Deb grinned back.

  Lou had more interest in the pastry side of the business. It had already been arranged that she would make the cakes for the afternoon coffee shop whilst Deb ran the breakfast side. Deb was quite looking forward to being a more glamorous version of May in a roomful of rough men.

  Lou’s mobile went off just as they were clearing up the plates. The look on her face told Tom and Deb who it was even before she said his name.

  ‘Hello Phil,’ said Lou quietly. She was awfully drained-looking, thought Tom and Deb simultaneously.

  ‘Yes, I think a meeting would be a good idea now.’

  Tom rubbed the back of his neck.

  ‘No, I’ll come over to you…Yes, ten o’clock–at our house,’ said Lou in the same quiet tone. ‘See you tomorrow morning, then. Bye.’

  Our house, Tom thought.

  Lou threw the phone down and immediately ran upstairs again with her hand across her mouth. Tom knew how she felt.

  Mid-morning, the plumber turned up to connect their newly-arrived monster dishwasher to the water supply. Lou hadn’t stopped scrubbing and cleaning since Tom had left and Deb was worried about her. She was looking more and more ghost-like with every passing half-hour. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day except some water, which she had only just managed to hang onto.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be better when my meeting with Phil is over and done with,’ Lou answered her concerns. ‘I think he will have convinced himself that I’ll be worrying myself sick overnight about the divorce papers landing and I’ll take one look at him tomorrow and cave in.’

  ‘Tom thinks you’re going to,’ said Deb.

  ‘What? Go back to Phil? Not a chance!’ said Lou, discreetly scratching her breast.

  ‘Why do you keep doing that?’ said Deb.

  ‘My bra’s killing me,’ said Lou. ‘It’s rubbing me like hell.’

  ‘Is it new?’

  ‘No, that’s the weird thing. It’s not just this bra, it’s all of them.’

  ‘Have you changed your washing powder?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘When was your last period?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Lou, knowing where this conversation was going.

  ‘Have you missed?’

  ‘Yes, but who could blame me with all that’s been going on?’

  ‘OK,’ said Deb.

  She nipped out a little later, saying she was going to get some more teabags. Lou put on the kettle in her absence and had an instant coffee. It tasted unpleasant. That was all she needed–to have gone off coffee.

  Phil took the afternoon off and called in at the supermarket for a cake mix. Jane Asher? he thought. No chuffing chance! It looked far too professional so he plumped for a Bettermix Instant Victoria Sponge in a nice cheap packet. It turned out a bit too well when he made it, but he cocked it up nicely on the icing. It looked quite pathetic, really, when he had added the little sweetie decorations–just the thing to pull at a woman’s hear
tstrings. Lou would never be able to resist it, anyway.

  As he put on the last smartie, the text beeped. It was from Sue British Racing Green Eyes. YOU EVIL LYING BASTARD it said. Now what the hell was that all about?

  Deb came back in to find Lou taking a breather on a chair.

  ‘Here, this might help,’ she said, and tossed Lou the paper bag.

  Lou tipped out the contents and gave Deb a quizzical look.

  ‘Of course you are joking!’

  Deb nodded towards it. ‘I think you should take the test, Lou.’

  Lou shoved the pregnancy test back in the bag. ‘I’ve got a virus, that’s all,’ she said.

  ‘Take the test, Lou. Call it a hunch. If it’s negative I’ll stick my head in that new dishwasher for making you do this, but just do it and get it over with.’

  ‘How can I be pregnant, Deb? Talk sense.’

  ‘Lou, I don’t know and you may not be, but being sick, late periods, being constantly tired and having sore boobs, well…Find out for sure, though, will you?’

  Lou sighed and was about to take it upstairs when Deb coughed.

  ‘We have toilets here downstairs, you know. Very nice toilets too, thanks to the builders.’

  ‘I know, I just wanted to keep them new.’

  ‘Lou, get in the Ladies and don’t be silly.’

  Lou disappeared with her box. Deb waited outside for what seemed ages before Lou emerged looking like Frosty the Snowman with anaemia. The tears were rolling down her face and she reached for Deb.

  ‘Oh hell,’ said Deb, coming forwards. ‘Lou, I’m sorry. I hate myself now. I just thought, with all your symptoms and—’

  ‘Deb, it’s positive,’ said Lou. ‘I did both tests and they both came up positive.’

  She showed Deb the blue lines in the confirmation boxes on the tests. ‘I have got it right, haven’t I? That does mean…’

  ‘Yes–yes!’

  ‘What if they’re faulty?’

  ‘Both of them? No chance. Lou–you’re pregnant.’

  ‘I can’t be!’

  ‘According to those tests you bloody well are!’

  They both just stood there, hardly daring to move in case they chased away the blue lines.

  ‘Could it be Phil’s baby?’ asked Deb, cringing as she said it.

  ‘It’s not possible–I haven’t slept with Phil in ages,’ said Lou. ‘It has to be Tom’s.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Deb, crossing herself internally.

  Oh God, Tom! What on earth would he say? thought Lou. After one incident of love-making with him, she had fallen pregnant. Would he feel that she had trapped him? Like Phil had with Sharon? She was pregnant! She clung onto Deb for comfort. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry so she plumped for both.

  ‘What do I tell Tom?’

  ‘I’d say “Tom, I’m pregnant”. I think you’ll find that’s all you need to say for now.’

  ‘Deb, I’m pregnant!’

  ‘Lou, you’re pregnant!’

  They both screamed and hugged each other and started dancing and bouncing around, like a pair of spaced-out Tiggers.

  That was how Tom found them five minutes later when he called in to see if Lou was feeling any better.

  Chapter 59

  That evening, Tom lay back on the sofa grinning and in his arms lay Lou, also grinning. They had grinned so much, their facial muscles hurt.

  ‘A baby next spring,’ said Tom dreamily. ‘Season of new birth–could that be any more perfect?’

  ‘I didn’t know how you’d take it,’ said Lou, ‘seeing as we’ve only slept together once.’

  ‘Don’t remind me,’ said Tom with amused sarcasm. ‘Move in tonight then you can sleep in my bed and let me be all gentle with you.’

  That sounded awfully tempting, thought Lou, as something coursed through her veins which felt rather like very strong sweet wine. But not yet.

  ‘Please, Tom, I need to finish off my business with Phil first, totally and completely,’ said Lou. ‘I don’t have affairs. I’m not that sort of person. It doesn’t sit well with me to do things this way round.’

  ‘We’re going to have a baby together, isn’t that finished enough for you?’ Tom asked. His voice had a wobble in it that she hadn’t heard before.

  ‘No,’ said Lou. ‘Give me one more day. Just one. Then we can plan for us.’

  Tom nodded, pretending to understand. Was she playing for time? Giving Phil the chance to win her back? What if he rolled out a major charm offensive tomorrow? Phil Winter was so confident, so cocksure. He cuddled Lou until she had to leave his arms because she felt queasy again. Her hormones were all over the place. She was ripe for being manipulated. What if Phil played on that and convinced her that the best place was there with him in his big warm house and big warm bed? Tom knew this wasn’t logical–after all, Lou was carrying his child. But feeling something and knowing something were totally different things.

  Lou came back down the stairs and resumed her place snuggled up next to him. He put his hand on her tummy. He wanted his baby to get used to knowing he was close.

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Tom.

  ‘You can’t believe it!’ said Lou. ‘Not that I want to bring Phil into this, but the amount of accidents we had–and nothing–and only once with you and then “bingo”.’

  Phil again. Tom tried to laugh off his name being brought into their intimate moment by rubbing his nails imperiously on his shirt.

  ‘Well, I must have supersperm.’

  ‘What sex would you like?’ asked Lou.

  ‘Any sort of sex, I’m busting for it.’

  ‘No–what flavour baby would you like, you nut?’ said Lou, hitting him with a cushion.

  ‘Honestly, Lou, I know it’s a cliché, but as long as it’s OK, I really don’t mind.’ What if she went back to Phil and he never saw his child?

  ‘I’ve decided that if Phil wants to put up a fight tomorrow, I’ll just get the divorce when I can. He isn’t going to settle for a quickie and I’m not going to let myself get worked up about it.’

  ‘I’d settle for a quickie,’ said Tom, dodging the cushion again. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, savouring her…just in case this was the last time. The thought of her seeing Phil tomorrow terrified him. He hadn’t wanted to come over all caveman but he was built to protect, it was just the way God had made him, and he was far too old and set in his ways to fight against it. He wanted to go with her tomorrow but of course she had said no.

  ‘What if we had twins? One of each,’ said Lou. ‘Phil’s twins were really beautiful.’

  Phil Phil Phil.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be having blonde, brown-eyed kids, though–do you?’ said Tom, shaking his black hair at her, fighting back the nervous, almost tearful tremor in his voice.

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ laughed Lou gently.

  As they sat, each with their thoughts, Tom suddenly started muttering to himself. ‘No, we can’t, can we?’ he murmured. ‘No way. I’m sure that’s right. Of course, of course. How stupid!’

  ‘What are you on about?’ said Lou.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ He unwrapped himself from Lou, bolted quickly out of the room and came back a few minutes later carrying a huge encyclopedia and grinning widely.

  ‘Lou, I think you might get your quickie divorce after all,’ he said. Taking a pad out of the dresser drawer, he started to draw little coloured circles on it. All this stopping at the petting stage had obviously sent him a bit loopy, Lou thought.

  She realized she would have to make love to him very soon in order to save his mental health.

  Chapter 60

  The next morning, Lou checked herself in the mirror and added a little more rouge to her pale cheeks. She hoped the remission of morning sickness would last until this dreaded task was over. In saying that, the prospect of ‘morning sickness’ still thrilled her, because it was under the umbrella of pregnancy symptoms and she was quite prepa
red to suffer double, even treble sickness tonight, but please God just let her get through this morning with some dignity.

  She felt pretty good, actually. She applied some red lipstick for courage and nodded at her reflection. She was ready.

  1, The Faringdales looked different somehow. She felt no emotional attachment to the house she had moved into as a bride. It was hard to believe she had lived there for ten years. Her life there seemed a million light years away, even though four months ago, she had not even thought of clearing out a drawer or ever heard of Tom Broom. When she got to the front door, the instinct wasn’t even there to walk straight in. It was no longer her home. She knocked and Phil opened it and brought her in effusively.

  How long was it since he had seen her? She looked like Lou, but different. It sounded nuts to say it, but she looked like an older version of the young spirited Lou he had fallen in love with–the Lou she would have naturally grown into, had she not been worn down by his treatment of her.

  ‘How are you, love?’ he said. She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring, he noticed.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Lou. ‘How are you?’ He was wearing his wedding ring, she noticed.

  ‘I’ve made tea,’ he said, in the manner of a small child who was showing off a pasta picture to his mam. Lou let him pour her a cup. He’d got the best china out of the cabinet. It was his mother’s tea-set–an heirloom that, ordinarily, wouldn’t have come out for a visiting Monarch.

  ‘I’ve left the milk and the sugar out,’ he said, pointing to a bowl and a jug.