by Sandie Jones
The conversation was stilted whilst we waited for our main course. I greeted my seabass like an old friend, thankful to have something to focus my attention on. When Adam excused himself to go to the toilet, I wanted to run in there with him.
‘So, things are moving along pretty quickly, then?’ said Pammie, without waiting for the gents’ door to close.
‘Mmm,’ I smiled tightly.
‘How long have you been together now?’ she asked, pursing her lips to take a sip of her white wine spritzer.
‘Four months.’
‘Goodness, that’s no time at all,’ she said, a fixed grin on her face.
‘It’s not always about time, though, is it?’ I questioned, careful to keep my voice light. ‘It’s about how you feel.’
‘Indeed, it is,’ she said, nodding slowly. ‘And you feel that Adam is the one?’
‘I hope so.’ I didn’t want to give her any more than necessary.
‘And you think he feels the same?’ she asked, with a withering look on her face, as if she was dealing with a naive child.
‘I would hope so. We’re practically living together, so yeah . . .’ I deliberately left it hanging, as if I was almost willing her to say something else, yet knowing that I wouldn’t want to hear it.
‘You’d be wise to back off a bit,’ she said. ‘He likes his own space, and if you crowd him, you’ll have him running for the hills.’
‘Has he said something?’ I couldn’t help myself. Her mouth had spread into a smug grin, and I instantly wished I could tie a knot in my tongue.
‘Just this and that,’ she said dismissively, knowing full well I wouldn’t be able to leave it there.
‘Like what?’ I asked. ‘This and that what?’
‘Oh, you know, the usual. How he feels hemmed in. How he has to answer to you every time he wants to step outside the front door.’
A rush of heat spread across my chest. Was that how I made him feel? Don’t be ridiculous, I remonstrated with myself. We’re an equal partnership. That’s not who we are. What we’re about. But then I caught sight, in my mind’s eye, of me having a go at him for coming in late last Thursday. And on Sunday, I’d asked how long he’d be at the gym for. Was I that person? Was he tired of being questioned, to the point he’d tell his mother?
I looked at her as my brain frantically whirred away and wondered, not for the first time, whether she knew what she was doing. Or had I got it all wrong? Again?
Sensing Adam walking back towards us, she grinned and put her hand over mine.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,’ she said cheerily, her voice saccharin sweet, like butter wouldn’t melt.
‘So, is she just some batty old woman who’s lonely and bored?’ asked Pippa, when Adam dropped me back after the meal. He’d wanted me to stay at his, but Pammie had left me mentally exhausted and I wanted to go home.
I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.
‘Or is it more spiteful than that?’ Pippa went on in her most sinister voice. ‘Is she playing some kind of game here?’
‘I really don’t know,’ I offered honestly. ‘Sometimes, I think it’s just silly pettiness, but then something gnaws away at me, chipping and chipping until I’m convinced she’s a bitter, jealous psychopath.’
‘Whoa, wait up a minute, let’s calm down a bit here,’ Pippa said, hands aloft. ‘She’s sixty-three, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, so?’
‘So, I can’t think of too many psychotic sexagenarians, that’s all.’
I had to laugh. The whole thing sounded ridiculous when it was said aloud, and I made a mental note to remind myself of that the next time I let it get to me.
9
The text read: Of course. Would be lovely to see you son. What time do you think you’ll be here? I do hope she isn’t off cavorting. It happens so often these days. Mum x
What? I read it again. What the hell was Pammie talking about? I scrolled through my message history. The last text I’d sent her was a reluctant ‘Thank you’ for my birthday dinner the week before.
I read her text again. I do hope she isn’t off cavorting. It clearly wasn’t meant for me. She must have meant to send it to James. He was back with the girlfriend she didn’t think much of. That would go some way to explaining it. Poor girl. Sounded like she was getting an even rougher ride than I was.
I listened for the running water of the shower, before reaching across the bed to retrieve Adam’s phone from his bedside. I quickly flicked through his texts. One, from twenty minutes earlier read: Hi mum, Emily’s off to a work conference this weekend so I was thinking about popping down to see you. Does Saturday work for you? x
A hotness filled my head. She was talking about me. She’d sent her reply to me instead of him. I held down a frustrated scream and clenched my fists, resisting the temptation to throw myself on the bed and pummel the pillows. The door handle to the bathroom turned, and I practically threw Adam’s phone onto his bedside.
‘Hey, what’s up?’ he said, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I didn’t know if he could see the guilt in my eyes, or the anger brewing within me.
‘Nothing,’ I said tightly, turning to open the wardrobe. Most of my clothes were at his place now because that’s invariably where I spent most of my time. I was still paying rent on the flat with Pippa, but I was spending less than two nights a week there, so Adam and I had been talking through our options.
‘Do you not want to move in here permanently and give yours up?’ he’d asked just the night before, as we were lying in bed.
I’d tried not to let the squeak of excitement escape when I spoke. ‘It doesn’t seem to make sense doing what we’re doing at the moment, does it?’ I’d said, as nonchalantly as possible, though I was sure he could hear the slightly hysterical lilt in my voice.
He’d shaken his head.
‘But I don’t think this is where I want to live permanently.’ I’d wrinkled my nose and he’d sat up, propping himself on an elbow.
‘What? You don’t like the 5 a.m. wake-up call from the stall vendors?’ he’d smiled. ‘All that shouting and hollering at some ungodly hour on a Saturday morning? What’s wrong with you?’
I gave him a playful slap on his arm.
‘So, do you want to ditch both flats and look at getting something together?’
I smiled and we sealed the deal by making love.
This morning, we’d woken up full of excitement and were getting ready to go and trawl the agents in Blackheath, albeit lettings, but who’d have thought little old me would wind up in SE3? I’d been buzzing, until his mother’s text had pinged up on my phone, and now I had an uncomfortable tightness around my chest, as if she’d got her hand in there, pulling me down.
Of course, I could tell Adam exactly what the problem was and read him her message, to show him how hurtful she could be. But then I had to rely on him being honest too. He needed to acknowledge that the message was meant for him and about me. I didn’t know if he would. He’d no doubt just bat it away and say, ‘Oh you know Mum, she doesn’t mean anything by it.’ But whether she meant anything by it or not is irrelevant. If I’m upset by it, then I’d expect him to stand by me and support me, not side with his mother.
Though if I was honest with myself, I was already doubting who Adam’s priority was, after one or two comments he’d made earlier in the week, whilst we’d been in Scotland.
‘So, will we be hearing wedding bells anytime soon?’ Lovely Linda had teased, in her soft Scottish lilt. I’d affectionately nicknamed her as such because she was so, well . . . lovely. I tried to see past the family resemblance, the small pointy nose and the thin lips. Linda won out because she had warmth in her eyes, whereas her sister Pammie had none.
‘Whoa, steady on now,’ said Adam, laughing. ‘We’ve only just met.’
I’d smiled along with him, but I couldn’t stop myself from feeling a little hurt at how flippantly he described our relationship.
&n
bsp; ‘Yes, but when you know, you know, don’t you?’ she said, with a wink.
‘We’ll see,’ said Adam, taking my hand.
‘What would you do?’ she pressed on. ‘Would you have a big traditional wedding?’
‘If I was ever going to get married,’ I’d giggled, emphasizing the ‘if’, ‘I’d like to go off somewhere hot, with just our nearest and dearest, and do it on a beach somewhere.’
‘Ooh, imagine that,’ cried Linda. ‘What a fabulous idea.’
‘We couldn’t do that,’ exclaimed Adam, looking at me as if I were mad. ‘Our families would go ballistic.’
‘Mine would be okay,’ I said.
‘And don’t you be minding us,’ pitched in Linda. ‘You do what you want to do.’
‘Mum wouldn’t be happy,’ said Adam. ‘I’m sure she’d like a big do up here, so all the family could be there.’
‘It’s your day,’ said Linda. ‘It hasn’t got anything to do with anyone else.’
‘You could always pop down to Gretna Green,’ piped up Adam’s cousin, Ewan. ‘It’s only up the road and you don’t even need a witness.’
We’d all laughed, but in amongst the titters I heard Adam saying, ‘I’d never get away with that!’
So, I knew where I stood, and all the while I was second best, I’d pick my fights carefully. I wanted to enjoy today for what it was, for what it could be. I wanted to wander through Blackheath Village like other couples that I used to see. Look excitedly into agents’ windows before going in and reeling off our requirements. Yes, we’d decided that a second bedroom would be beneficial. Yes, if we didn’t have to compromise on location, a small garden would be a huge plus point. No, we didn’t have any pets. We’d run through our wish list like little kids, the night before, until it had got silly. No, we wouldn’t consider a subterranean basement with no windows. Yes, we would like to overlook the heath if there’s a remote chance that it’ll cost less than our combined take-home pay.
It could be a great day, so should I tell him what she’d done and how it made me feel? Or should I stay schtum? Was there really any choice?
Adam came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and let his towel fall to the floor. I’d lost focus on what I was looking for. I couldn’t even see the shirts and blouses I was pulling along the rail. There were just blocks of colour, no item seemed to register, the anger building with every hanger.
‘You sure nothing’s wrong?’ he said as he nuzzled my neck.
Say something. Don’t ruin it. Say something. Don’t ruin it. This could so easily go one of two ways.
‘No, honestly,’ I said, turning around and returning his kiss. ‘I’m just thinking about work. There’s a lot going on.’
‘I’ve got something that will relax you,’ he murmured. ‘That will clear those cobwebs.’ I watched as his head dropped and he peeled back the flimsy lace of my bra, circling my nipple with his tongue.
I could feel the rage within me dissipate as his fingers travelled down, pushing my knickers to one side.
I made a half-hearted attempt to push him away. ‘We can’t. We’ve got things to do.’
‘There’s plenty of time for all that. First, just let me see if I can free you of all those worries and stresses.’
There was no point in stopping him. We both knew I wouldn’t even try. I needed him as much as he needed me, sometimes even more. I’d always thought sex was over-rated before I met Adam. Of course, I liked it, but I was flummoxed by the constant stream of articles in women’s magazines telling us that if we weren’t having it five times a week, and swinging from the chandeliers on at least two of those occasions, then there must be something wrong with us.
Even with Tom, who I had been the most adventurous with, I didn’t really get it. We made love twice a week, with him on top, until he came, and then he’d satisfy me in other ways. Sex was sex and I was fine with that. But with Adam, it was entirely different. I’d finally been able to see what everyone else was raving about. He knew me, and I knew him. We were the perfect fit. Not many days would pass before one of us needed the other. Our moods could swing and change on the strength of it. Sex had gone from being the least important part of a relationship to high on the priority list.
I moaned as his head moved further down, my breath catching in my throat.
A picture of a horrified Pammie flashed across my mind and I forced the image away. I’ll get to you later, I thought to myself, as I felt Adam’s tongue. But first your son is going to make love to me. A warped wave of satisfaction flooded over me that not even Adam himself could transcend.
We were still entwined, our breathing deep and heavy, when a text pinged through on his phone. He extracted himself and rolled over, reaching across to the bedside.
‘Who’s after you?’ I asked casually, wondering whether Pammie had now sent the text to him.
‘Pete from work, and my mum.’
‘Oh, is your mum okay?’ I feigned casual interest.
‘Yeah, all good. I was just checking that she’s around next weekend. I’m thinking of popping down there whilst you’re at the conference.’
‘Good idea. Is she okay with that?’ I pushed.
He tapped out a reply while I waited. ‘Yep, all sorted.’
I willed him to relay the message, so that we could laugh about it and call her a silly old cow, but he didn’t.
‘I’ll go and see her on Saturday,’ he said. Damn you, Adam. Why couldn’t you have been honest?
10
I was at work when the text pinged through on my mobile.
Are you mad?
I didn’t recognize the number, so threw the phone into my bag, out of reach and out of temptation. But I was only able to leave it for a couple of minutes. How can you ignore a text like that?
Sorry? I typed back.
Are you a glutton for punishment? came the reply.
I was getting a bit freaked out. I either knew this person well, or this was a dodgy offer from an S&M dungeon.
I don’t think I’m either, so you must have the wrong person, I wrote.
You’ve got to be a fruit bat if you think going to see my nutty family is worth taking time off work for.
I leant back in my chair and thought for a moment, before a smile spread across my face. There was only one person this could be.
James?
Er yeah . . . who else would it be?
Me: Hey, how are you?
J: I’m good. How were your few days with the hillbillies?
I laughed out loud, and Tess, my colleague on the desk opposite mine, smiled and raised her eyebrows.
Me: Lovely! I wouldn’t knock it, you’re surprisingly alike.
J: Eh? How come?
Me: Fraser and Ewan are the very same as you and Adam. The apples don’t fall very far from that particular tree.
J: Oh, well that’s a bit awkward as they’re both adopted.
Me: Oh my God – I’m so sorry, I had no idea.
J: You didn’t comment on a resemblance, did you? They’re super-sensitive.
I ransacked my brain, desperately trying to remember whether I had or not. It would have been a typical comment for me to make, a way to make idle conversation.
Me: I hope not. I feel really bad now.
J: You’d know if you had, cos Fraser would have gone for you. He’s got a real short fuse that one.
I had to assume that I hadn’t said anything, but that didn’t make me feel any better.
J: You still there? James asked, after I’d been quiet for a few minutes.
Me: Yep
J: And you didn’t say anything about Auntie Linda being married to her brother, did you?
What? The little sod.
Me: Oh very funny!
J: Had you there though didn’t I?
Me: No! Not sure how that side of your family are so nice?!? You should go see them more often. You could learn a lot!
J: I can’t. I get a nosebleed whenever I go north o
f the River Thames.
I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh.
J: You ready for Adam’s party? Got your dress?
Me: Yes. Have you got yours?
J: Ha ha . . . mine’s red, just so you know. I don’t want us clashing.
Me: You wearing your hair up or down?
J: Oh definitely up. Do-ups are all the rage these days.
Me: It’s not a do-up, it’s an up-do!
J: It’s the same difference.
Me: Will Chloe be coming? I had no idea why I’d asked that, and instantly wanted to retrieve the message, but it was too late.
J: Yep, she’ll be there. I think she’s wearing blue so we should be OK.
The tone of the conversation had changed, and I suddenly felt like a petulant child wanting to go back to how it was.
Great, I typed. I’ll be sure to say hello.
The mention of his girlfriend seemed to throw us both off kilter as he came back with a winking emoji and a kiss.
I didn’t respond.
11
‘Happy Birthday dear Adam, happy birthday to you.’ The chorus turned to applause and calls of ‘speech, speech’ rang out around the rugby club.
Adam put his hands up and walked across the dance floor to the mic. ‘Okay, okay. Ssh, settle down. Thank you. Thank you.’
‘Get on with it,’ cried out Adam’s best mate and fellow prop, Mike. ‘Bloody hell, he speaks with the same speed he uses on the pitch . . . Slowwwwly.’
All the rugby boys cheered and slapped each other’s backs, like Neanderthals around a cave fire.
I smiled along with the rest of them, but shared the same resignation as the other girlfriends there, all of us knowing that, at some point in proceedings, all our boyfriends, bar none, would have their underpants round their ankles, swigging beer and singing ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’. I’d only been down to the club three times, but Adam had exposed himself on every occasion. I looked towards Amy, Mike’s girlfriend, and we both rolled our eyes. I’d met her once or twice before, but I’d never seen her all dressed up. She made a great show of flicking her long brown hair back over her shoulders, revealing a pair of breasts that strained against the confines of the barely-there triangles of her black dress. I eyed the thin spaghetti straps that were having to work hard to keep the garment in place, and couldn’t decide whether I wanted them to snap to expose her assets, or stay steadfast so that every male in the room didn’t have a heart attack.
