by Helen Warner
Almost immediately, she yelled out. Jamie looked at her in shock and put his hand over her mouth. ‘Shh,’ he gasped, smiling as he began to thrust harder. ‘We don’t want to wake the children!’ Both of them groaned as they climaxed together and Jamie slumped down on top of her, panting furiously.
‘Well, that’s your exercise for the day!’ Martha giggled playfully, stroking his shoulder, which was damp with sweat.
Jamie raised his head and grinned at her, before kissing her on the lips. ‘I love you,’ he murmured. ‘You know that, don’t you?’
Martha frowned and began to gently push him off her so that she could sit up. The hard wood of the table didn’t make a very comfortable bed and her back was aching. ‘Of course I know that, silly,’ she smiled, climbing off the table and looking back at it with a grin. ‘God, if the kids only knew what this table gets used for sometimes,’ she added.
Jamie bent down and collected his jeans and boxers from the floor. ‘Funnily enough, today we had a very in-depth discussion about what the table should be called. I don’t thinking “shagging table” was one of the suggestions!’
Giggling like naughty children, she and Jamie switched off all the lights and climbed the stairs. ‘So what did you do today?’ Martha asked, once they were lying in bed, each with a book poised and ready to read.
Jamie put down his copy of Freedom by Jonathan Franzen and looked up, stroking his jaw as if trying to remember. ‘Well now, I put on a wash, then I went to the supermarket. By the time I came home, the washing was ready to be hung out on the line and then—’
‘OK! OK!’ Martha cut in, laughing. ‘I get it. Your job can be mundane at times, but you’ll get your reward in heaven . . .’
‘It certainly feels like it’ll be the death of me sometimes . . .’ Jamie muttered back.
Martha put her book down and looked at him in the rosy glow of his bedside lamp. ‘Do you feel like that? I thought you liked being here with the kids?’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘But the kids aren’t here for most of the day now. It gets a bit boring sometimes. You know how it is . . .’
Martha nodded. ‘Well, I think you’re doing a great job.’ She reached over to kiss him. ‘And I so appreciate what you do.’
‘And I so appreciate what you do,’ Jamie replied, smiling back at her. ‘But don’t you sometimes compare me with some of the people you interview, like that Charlie Simmons? I mean, when was the last time I wore a suit or had anyone ask for my opinion? I must seem like a right loser in comparison to him, with all his money and success.’
‘Pah!’ Martha spluttered. ‘All his money hasn’t brought him much happiness, with his wife and kid buggering off to the other side of the world. Yes, Jamie, I do compare you with the people I interview, and believe me, you come out on top every time. You’re worth a million of any of them.’
Jamie smiled and dropped his book onto the floor beside him. ‘Yes, when you put it like that, I am a bit of a catch, aren’t I?’ he said teasingly. ‘Fancy going again?’ he added, as he rolled onto his side and gazed at her.
‘No!’ Martha protested, pulling the duvet up over her naked breasts. ‘God, you’re insatiable!’ she giggled. ‘Now go to sleep!’
The next morning, Tom came slouching into their bedroom. Martha opened her eyes sleepily to find his cheeky little face peering at her from just a few inches away. ‘Hey, handsome,’ she murmured, reaching out for him and pulling him into bed so that his back curled against the contour of her stomach. She loved the smell of sleep that always clung to him first thing, and she nuzzled her face into his messy hair, inhaling deeply. Tom squirmed for a few minutes in mock protest, but she knew that it was for show. He loved these early-morning cuddles as much as she did.
Beside her, Jamie stirred and reached his arm over so that he was embracing both her and Tom. ‘Morning, champ,’ he said, his voice thick and croaky.
‘Morning, Dad,’ Tom replied, lifting his head to peer at Jamie over the top of Martha’s body. ‘Will you come and play on my Xbox?’
‘It’s a bit early . . .’ Jamie sighed, throwing back the duvet and rolling out of bed nevertheless. ‘But go on then!’
Martha watched as Jamie threw on his t-shirt and jeans and signalled to Tom to follow him. ‘Let Mum have another half-hour’s sleep,’ he said.
Tom squeezed himself into Martha for one more hug before climbing out of bed and following Jamie downstairs. Martha snuggled back down under the duvet and was just dozing off again when her mobile phone, which was plugged into a charger on the bedside table, beeped.
Sighing, Martha reached out and unplugged the handset. She rolled onto her back and looked at the screen. The message was from her best friend, Lindsay. OMG!! What u doing leaving hotel with Charlie Simmons??? X
Martha’s senses tingled. Eh? What u on abt? x she hurriedly texted back.
A few seconds later, her phone beeped again. Photo of u together on MailOnline! U wearing his clothes???? WTF???
Martha sat up in shock. Immediately, she clicked on Lindsay’s number to call her.
‘Well, good morning!’ Lindsay answered in her broad, northern accent. ‘You have got some explaining to do, young lady!’
Martha laughed, despite her concern. ‘I really haven’t. But I have got probably the most embarrassing story ever to tell you . . .’
She regaled Lindsay with the details of her encounter with Charlie Simmons the day before, to be met with howls of laughter from her friend and former colleague. Lindsay and Martha had worked on the same newspaper together before going in different directions. Martha had focused on doing in-depth celebrity interviews, while Lindsay gave up journalism altogether and went into teaching. But her background meant that she still read all the papers online every morning, which was why she had been the first to spot the paparazzi picture of Martha and Charlie.
‘Well, you could be a bit more sympathetic!’ Martha spluttered indignantly, as Lindsay continued to laugh loudly at her misfortune. ‘Jamie!’ she called out, putting her hand over the speaker for a second, ‘I’d love a cup of tea!’
‘No need to shout!’ came the answer, as Jamie entered the bedroom carrying a cup of tea.
‘Aah, thanks, babe.’ She smiled, and blew him a kiss as he put the cup down on her bedside table, before returning to her phone call. ‘My lovely husband just brought me a cup of tea.’
‘Tell him I want one too!’ Lindsay said.
‘Lindsay says she wants one too,’ Martha relayed to Jamie’s retreating back.
‘What, me or the tea?’ Jamie replied cheekily, closing the bedroom door behind him.
‘I heard that!’ said Lindsay. ‘Tell him both.’
Martha laughed. Lindsay adored Jamie, as did all of her friends. Lindsay was divorced after her ex-husband had cheated on her, and often told Martha that whenever she got fed up with Jamie, she would happily take him off her hands.
‘Anyway,’ Martha said, ‘I need to go and have a look at this bloody newspaper story. I can’t believe they photographed us and made it look as though I’d spent the night with him!’
‘Are you absolutely sure you didn’t? And then came up with that cock-and-bull story to cover your tracks?’ Lindsay’s voice had taken on a mischievous air. ‘No-one would blame you.’
‘Bugger off!’ Martha cried good-naturedly. ‘As if! I don’t have the imagination to make up a story like that anyway. And I’m far too old and far too dull for him. By the way, how do I look in the picture?’
There was a pause and she could hear the clicking of a keyboard as Lindsay looked again at the photo. ‘Good,’ she said at last. ‘Kind of dishevelled sexy, I’d say. Not sure the gold platforms were a good idea though.’
‘Well, strangely enough, his trainers would have been too big for me,’ Martha protested.
‘So, have you still got his clothes then?’
‘Of course I have! But I’ve promised to return them to him when I’ve washed them.’
‘I wou
ldn’t,’ Lindsay said. ‘I’d keep them. They’ll be worth something one day.’
‘It’s a good job I’m not you then, isn’t it? Anyway, I need to go and see if I can find the article online. I’ll call you back later.’
She hung up and jumped out of bed, her heart beating a little faster. She felt disconcerted at the idea of being photographed with Charlie. Even though there was an innocent explanation, she somehow felt guilty. She didn’t want the children to see the picture either, in case it planted a seed of doubt in their minds.
She put on her bathrobe, made her way into the study and closed the door behind her. She opened up her laptop and logged onto the MailOnline site. At first she couldn’t see it as she scrolled through the numerous thumbnail-sized items, and let go of the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Perhaps it had only made the first editions and had now dropped off the listings. But just as she was about to log off, she realised that not only was it there, but it was right at the top, meaning it was one of the stories that had already been ‘most read’ that morning.
By now, her heart was racing. She clicked on the link. In the colour photograph, she and Charlie were leaving the hotel together, with her obviously wearing his clothes, and both laughing about something. What had they been laughing at? She thought back to the previous day. After the interview, as she was leaving, Charlie had said he was meeting someone for a late lunch, so he would walk out with her. As they reached the door of the hotel and walked out into the forecourt, Charlie had suddenly got a fit of the giggles about her travelling home on the tube in his baggy clothes and her gold platforms, which had started her giggling too. He had offered her a lift in his car, but she had mustered as much dignity as she could and said she would be fine, thank you very much.
She had waited until Charlie was out of sight before hailing a cab. There was no way she was going to travel on the tube looking the way she did, and anyway, she would be able to claim it on expenses later.
Behind her, she heard the door to the study open and she closed the screen guiltily. ‘What’s wrong?’ Jamie asked, coming in and looking at her suspiciously. ‘Why did you close your computer like that? What are you hiding? Have you been Internet shopping again?’
‘Oh God,’ Martha sighed, biting her lip. ‘I wish I had. There’s a bloody photo in the Mail that makes it look as if I spent the night at a hotel with Charlie Simmons! It’s why Lindsay called so early.’
‘No way!’ cried Jamie, his mouth dropping open. ‘Show me!’
Reluctantly, Martha opened up the laptop once more and sat back as Jamie peered at the article. She wasn’t quite sure how he would react. He could be a little possessive sometimes, even though he knew she would never cheat on him, and she didn’t want it to cause friction between them.
‘You look hot, baby!’ he said at last, causing her shoulders to drop with relief.
‘You’re not cross?’ she glanced up at him tentatively.
‘Well, it’s a bit humiliating, I suppose,’ Jamie rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. ‘But I guess anyone who knows us would know the truth. At least it doesn’t name you.’
‘True,’ Martha agreed. ‘Anyway, it’ll be chip paper tomorrow . . .’
‘Sadly that’s not true,’ Jamie reminded her. ‘It’ll actually be there for ever and ever now. The joys of the Internet.’
Martha let out a long sigh. ‘Shit. How embarrassing. I’m sorry, honey.’
Jamie bent down and kissed the top of her head, before backing out of the room. ‘Forget it,’ he said, as he closed the door behind him.
Martha turned back to the computer screen and looked at it thoughtfully, as an idea began to take shape. She would get a photo of Jamie and transfer his head onto Charlie’s body in the newspaper photo and write him a cute little message for when he next logged onto his own computer.
She closed her laptop and scooted her chair over to Jamie’s, which sat on the opposite desk. She logged in using his password and the screen fired into life. First, she needed to find a really nice picture of Jamie. She scanned through his home screen, trying to suss out which icon represented his photo library. Jamie was a keen photographer, especially since she had bought him a top-of-the-range camera for Christmas, and he was also a whizz with graphics, so he had several applications that she didn’t recognise.
In the end, she clicked on the icon showing a camera, and a page of photos duly appeared. Each photo represented a folder of pictures and she scrolled through, looking for one that might have something suitable. Most of the pictures were of their various holidays, but there was one that stood out and caused Martha to suddenly stop scrolling. It was of a woman Martha didn’t recognise, sitting on an unfamiliar bed, smiling at the camera.
Martha clicked on the image, her throat suddenly dry with foreboding. Immediately, further photos filled the screen and Martha gasped in shock. As the series of photos unfolded, the woman gradually undressed until she was completely naked, pulling sultry faces at the camera and posing in obscene positions. Martha’s hands started to shake and she moaned to herself slightly as she continued to click on pornographic picture after pornographic picture. Could there be an innocent explanation for it? She didn’t recognise the woman. Perhaps they were images Jamie had downloaded from the Internet? Even happily married men sometimes looked at porn, didn’t they?
She hesitated, wanting to stop, so that whatever she had stumbled upon could be unseen once more. But as the next picture rolled up, she knew that it was too late. On the screen in front of her, causing her to physically retch, she watched as the woman was joined on the bed by a naked man. There was no mistaking who he was. Jamie.
Chapter 7
The LA sunshine was really getting on Liv’s nerves. She had lived here for over four years now and had never quite adapted to the place. So many things that she had loved at the start now grated on her. Like the beach, for instance.
Danny, in keeping with his surfer-boy appearance, loved to go to the beach and had bought a beautiful house in Malibu so that they could spend the summer there. In the beginning, the three of them would drive up to the beach house whenever they could. Danny had patiently taught Felix to surf, and even at six years old, Liv had to admit he was pretty good. But these days, with Danny on location so much, they went to the beach house less and less, so she only really got to go if she took Felix herself, and then it didn’t seem quite so much fun for either of them.
She would sit on the sand watching Felix splashing in the crystal - clear turquoise water, wishing that Danny was there. She’d spy Felix looking longingly at other kids who did have their dads with them and her heart would ache for him.
She had once tried to surf herself, but she was afraid of water after a bad experience when she had nearly drowned as a child. Aged seven, she had been paddling on a beach in Australia when a large wave had swept her off her feet and sucked her under the water. She was so disoriented that she couldn’t find her feet and was pulled further and further out to sea. She had started to lose consciousness by the time she was plucked to safety and the fear of the sea had never left her. She would often wonder how different Felix’s life would have been if he had grown up in the English countryside. If she and Charlie had stayed together. Had had another baby . . .
Today had been a difficult day, which was why the sunshine was irritating her. She had realised at lunchtime that her period was late and she had begun to wonder if she might be pregnant. The thought had taken root and a tiny kernel of excitement had begun to build inside her. Her mind automatically leapt forward, as she tried to calculate what her due date might be, and she had even tipped a glass of wine down the sink. Being pregnant would be the perfect excuse to stop drinking. Not that she drank very much anyway.
But this evening, when she went to the loo, there it was. Taunting her. She had tried to take it in her stride and carry on as usual, but after an hour spent prowling around the house, she found herself crouching in her bathroom, the almost-empty v
odka bottle beside her, sobbing uncontrollably.
Just as she was beginning to pull herself together, her cellphone rang. Naturally, she had it with her, even in the bathroom. She never wanted to risk missing a call from her agent, even amidst her emotional turmoil. LA did that to you. ‘Hello?’ She coughed slightly to clear her throat.
‘It’s Charlie,’ he said, in that formal, stilted voice he seemed to have invented especially for her ever since their break-up. She half expected him to add, ‘Charlie Simmons?’ as a prompt.
‘Oh, hi!’ she spoke as brightly as she could, sitting down cross-legged on the tiled floor with her back against the side of the huge stone bathtub.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked immediately.
Liv smiled to herself. Even after all these years, and down a phone line from the other side of the world, he knew just by an inflection in her voice that something was wrong. ‘Nothing. I’m, er, not feeling too good, that’s all,’ she replied, hoping that she wasn’t slurring her words and wishing desperately that she could pour her heart out to him. But it wouldn’t be appropriate. Or fair.
‘Well, as long as you’re OK. You sound a bit . . .’ Charlie said, bringing Liv back to the present with a start.
‘A bit what?’
There was an awkward pause. ‘Nothing,’ he said at last.
‘Um, Felix is out . . . He had a playdate after school,’ Liv cut in, when the silence had gone on long enough.
‘I know.’ Of course he knew. He was diligent about keeping in touch with his son and always made sure he knew where he was. ‘I’m coming to LA and I wanted to surprise him, so I thought I’d wait until he was out to call and let you know the details.’
‘OK, great!’ Liv wasn’t sure why she felt so piqued. ‘Are you coming just to see Felix?’ she couldn’t help asking, as her curiosity got the better of her.
‘No, actually,’ Charlie said, and she could tell that he was reluctant to be drawn into conversation with her. ‘I’ve got a . . . couple of meetings as well.’
