by S J Crabb
“You may now kiss your brides.”
~*~*~*~*~
Epilogue
One Year Later
I giggle and try to loosen Luke’s grip around me. “We’ll be late and they will know.”
He grins. “Know what?”
I blush. “You know, that we...um ... you know.”
He rolls over and pulls me on top of him, his arms gripping me to him like a vice.
“Who cares if they know. We’re married after all. It’s what married people do.”
I kiss him softly and groan. He laughs.
“Was that a groan, Becca? You know, you really should learn to control your groaning ways.”
I giggle into his chest as he tightens his grip if that’s at all possible.
“I wonder if you can hear my groans on that porno we made. Maybe they just edited out my groaning ways.”
Luke laughs. “I’d pay to see that film. I wonder whether it ever made the large screen, or did it go straight to DVD?”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “Probably just made the internet. It was pretty bad if I remember rightly.”
Luke growls huskily.
“All of this talk of pornos is giving me ideas.”
Pulling back, I wink at him sexily.
“Hold that thought, handsome. Like I said, we’ll be late and they will know.”
Luckily, he releases me and we reluctantly get ready for the party tonight.
As we clean our teeth side by side in front of the ‘his and hers’ sinks, I catch his eye in the mirror. Grinning, I look around and mumble.
“Impressive, isn’t it?”
He answers with the same toothbrush filled mumble.
“You can say that again.”
I grin as I finish brushing my teeth and look around me in awe.
“I never thought Jenny would end up in a place like this. If it was me, I would never want to leave.”
Luke nods.
“Me too. This bathroom alone is bigger than our flat and there are ten more of them. Do you think she cares though?”
Laughing, I throw him a towel.
“Not one bit. Jenny would be happy in a tent as long as it was with Flynn. They only agreed to move back because of their situation.”
Luke follows me back into the huge bedroom that we have been given for the duration of our trip. We are staying with Jenny and Flynn along with the others. She invited us out to stay and even paid for our tickets to Sydney. We are here for two weeks and I’m looking forward to spending quality time with my friends.
By the time we are ready I’m feeling hungry. Tonight, we are eating in. Apparently, Flynn is the ‘King of the Barby’ and is looking forward to demonstrating his skills.
We are soon ready and head off to find the others.
“Over here, Becca, Luke.”
I look over the huge patio area and see Rachel and Mark sitting side by side in a very comfortable looking seat. Grinning, we rush over. I look around me, exclaiming, “This is amazing, isn’t it?”
Rachel smiles.
“It certainly is. Who would have thought Jenny would do so well for herself?”
As if on cue, Jenny races out closely followed by Flynn.
I smile as I see the happiness in her face as she clings to Flynn’s hand like the newlyweds they are.
As she sits down, Flynn smiles at us.
“Can I get anyone a beer, or anything else that you want come to think of it?”
Luke smiles and jumps up.
“Here, we’ll come and give you a hand.”
He turns to Mark
“Let’s leave the girls to talk.”
He kisses me gently on the lips and walks away with the guys. The others laugh as they see my expression. I grin. “What, can’t a wife enjoy a kiss from her husband in public now?”
Jenny laughs. “Kiss away. I do all the time. In fact, we are known as the kissing couple around here. Nobody can believe that we still can’t keep our hands off each other, despite the fact we have been inseparable for two years now.”
I smile, but notice the light in Jenny’s eyes suddenly fade a little.
“Are you ok about all of this, Jenny?”
She sighs and tucks her feet underneath her on the couch.
“I will have to be. I suppose we couldn’t keep on travelling. Especially now.”
She looks down and pats her tummy with contentment.”
Rachel smiles happily.
“How long have you got?”
“Three months and they will be here. We call them Tom and Jerry or Mickey and Minnie, depending on what mood we’re in.”
I smile at her with excitement.
“You beat us all to it. I still can’t get my head around the fact it’s twins though. That’s madness.”
Jenny giggles. “Luckily, the news distracted his parents from the disappointment that we got married in Vegas. They were so upset that Flynn didn’t have the big family wedding they wanted.”
Rachel looks interested.
“Would you have liked that?”
Jenny shakes her head vehemently.
“I couldn’t think of anything worse. No, it was perfect the way it was. Just Flynn, me, the Elvis impersonator and his boyfriend. Perfect.”
We laugh as Jo heads over with Marcus in tow.
He squeals when he sees us.
“Ladies, ladies, I can’t believe this piece of heaven I’m in. Jenny, you may never see the back of me. I will take up childcare and be your Manny.”
Jenny giggles. “Stay as long as you like but I thought you were a wedding planner now?”
Marcus looks over at Crispin who is balancing a couple of bright exotic looking cocktails on a silver tray as he wobbles across to us.
“I am, but you know me, I could change direction. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
Crispin arrives and hands the very gay drink to his boyfriend. As it turned out Marcus got his guy, and they have been inseparable ever since. He gave up flying to become Crispin’s partner in more ways than one. They are extremely popular on the wedding scene and are booked solid for the next three years.
Marcus blows him a kiss as Crispin says shrilly.
“Now, I make a mean margarita and my mojitos are to die for. Any takers?”
Jo says eagerly.
“We’ll take everything you’ve got, Crispin. I want to try them all.”
Looking ecstatic at the thought of playing cocktail maker, Crispin hurries off. Jo looks around and smiles at Jenny.
“You know what, Jenny, your mum would be so proud of you. She would never believe what an amazing girl you turned out to be.”
Jenny smiles sadly.
“I wish she could be here to share all of this with me. She would have loved to be a grandmother and will miss out on so much, as will we.”
Leaning over we all reach for her hands. Rachel says softly.
“Remember she is in your heart, Jenny. Your memories will keep her alive and you will share them with Bart and Lisa when they arrive.”
Jo giggles. “I think of them as Pinky and Perky.”
Marcus grins. “My favourite is Tinky-Winky and Gaga.”
I snort. “Don’t you mean, Lala?”
He grins. “No, I mean what I say.”
Rolling my eyes, I turn to her.
“Have you thought of names for them?”
Jenny smiles. “Well, if one is a girl then Jacqueline after my mum. If a boy, then Tom after my Dad.”
Jo looks interested.
“What if you have two girls or two boys?”
Jenny grins. “Well, that’s obvious isn’t it?”
We look confused as she laughs.
“It would have to be Elvis for a boy and Margaret for a girl. I had thought of Ernesto but Flynn overruled me.”
Jo looks horrified. “Good God, Jenny, have you gone mad? Why on earth would you inflict such awful names on two sweet little babies?”
Jenny giggles. “As if we w
ould. Gosh, you should have seen your face. No, we haven’t decided past those names. We will wait until they arrive before we make any firm decisions.”
We are interrupted as the men head back and I smile at Luke as he sits beside me and pulls me close. As he kisses the top of my head I snuggle in beside him and look around at the people I call my Framily. Friends and family combined, they are special in so many ways. I actually think we now have it all. Who would have thought that one week away would have changed so many lives forever? What happened in Mexico certainly didn’t stay in Mexico and nobody is happier about that than me.
The End
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My Perfect Life at Cornish Cottage
My
Perfect Life
At
Cornish Cottage
By
S J Crabb
Chapter One
I am woken by the usual sound of my husband's bodily functions emanating from the ensuite.
I find it strangely comforting, and fleetingly wonder if it would work as a design concept for an alarm clock. I mean surely, I'm not alone; there must be millions of women waking up to the familiar sounds every day.
I suppose it's the human equivalent of a cock crowing.
Keeping my eyes tightly shut I hear him coming back into the room. If I can just make it five more minutes, then he will be off downstairs, and I will be spared from the morning grope.
How is it best to feign sleep? I mean I should probably throw in a little snort or a snore, maybe thrash around a bit, and perfect some rapid eye movement. Instead, I lie here like a frozen statue, tense and in tune to every bodily function that he makes.
I can sense him approaching my side of the bed, the one that I have occupied for the last twenty years of our marriage. Strange how territorial we all get over a certain side. Even when we go on holiday, we adopt the same procedures, it becomes ‘My Side.’
Now he is hovering beside me, and I run my tongue around my teeth, trying to dispel my morning breath. What if he wants a session before work? I wonder if I could fit it in before the school run.
I feel a gentle tap on my arm and he whispers, ‘Sophie, are you awake?’
I wonder how to open my eyes.
Should I adopt the wanton sex kitten pose, or the irate bored housewife/ downtrodden wife and mother pose?
He taps my arm again and says louder, ‘Sophie, wake up I need to say something.’
Well, this is different, it looks like I will be spared from a marathon session - I say marathon more like a gentle jog on his part before falling at the first hurdle. Stamina has never been his strong point.
My eyes snap open and I take in the sight of my husband of the last twenty years. Slightly wider with a lot less hair than when I first met him, sporting the grey hair that becomes distinguished on a man, and screams pensioner on a woman.
He looks at me with a worried expression and I sit up now extremely curious.
‘What's the matter darling, can't you find a matching pair of socks? I'm sure there are some in the utility room.’
He looks down and sits on the bed next to me, perching on the edge as if he is afraid that I will bite. I shift into an upright position and once again wonder what it could be.
If I'm taking bets it's probably something to do with my birthday. I'm going to be forty in a few weeks’ time, and he's been hinting at a surprise for the last few months.
Suddenly I feel excited. Maybe he has booked us a mini break without Harry and Mr Tumnus. Gosh, I can't remember the last time we did something on our own. When you have a six-year-old and a cocker spaniel, they do take up quite a bit of your time.
Feeling happy at the thought I smile at him and prepare myself to act surprised when he springs the treat on me.
He starts fiddling with his hands, which he always does when he is nervous, and I detect a flush creeping over his neck. He looks at me and I see that he is genuinely nervous and a sudden fear grips me.
Oh no, he must have a terrible illness. Maybe that visit to the doctors last week was bad news. He might have an incurable illness and only have months to live. I could be widowed and have to bring up Harry on my own. Oh, my God, I don't suit black, and even worse, I might have to actually join the rat race and work 9-5.
My anxiety levels are now on code red and reaching out, I grasp his hand gently.
‘What's the matter Lysander, you're worrying me?’
He shifts away, almost as if he can't bear me to touch him, and then appears to steel himself to deliver the bad news. Turning towards me he fixes me with a blank stare and says in a loud determined voice, ‘I'm sorry, Sophie, but I've met someone else and want a divorce.’
For a moment, I think that I must be still asleep. I sit still and just stare at him, while my mind struggles to compute this unusual information. I blink rapidly in the hope that every time I re-focus he will have two heads and the body of a wildebeest.
I mean, surely, I’m dreaming, because we don't even argue.
He looks at me anxiously.
‘Do you understand Sophie? I'm sorry but I can't pretend anymore. It's not fair on any of us and I can't go on living a lie.’
My hand flies to my mouth as if I can't be trusted to form a coherent sentence. My mind is spinning, and I suppose I must be in shock. Surely, I should be crying and screaming, and bashing him over the head with the industrial torch that I keep under the bed for emergencies, in case of power cuts or intruders.
They don't sell Tasers in Robert Dyas, and now I can see why as I know that I would be very much using it on him right now, and I wouldn't even issue the obligatory ‘Taser- Taser’ warning before I let him have it.
He shakes his head and stands up awkwardly.
‘Listen, I can see that you need time to get your head around what I’ve just told you, and I am running late for the office. We will talk later and iron everything out then. I just want to say that it's not you, it's me, and I have changed. I'm sure that when you come to terms with it, you will see it's for the best.
Well, at least it's out in the open now. Anyway, sorry to have to run but you know, life goes on as they say. I'll let Mr Tumnus out when I go downstairs; just remember not to leave him out there too long, I still haven't mended that hole in the fence at the end.’
And then he is gone.
Chapter Two
I am still sitting in the same place when a little body comes flying into the room and jumps onto the bed.
‘Mummy, Mummy, I didn't mean it, and Fireman Sam has wetted the bed again with his hose.’
I look down at the gorgeous bundle of love that is my son Harry. Large gentle brown eyes look up at me, carrying the weight of the world in them as he looks at me anxiously. I just about understand what he just said, and pull him to me tightly, stroking his soft brown hair that never seems to sit straight.
‘Don't worry baby boy, we'll send in the cleaning troll. Do you need to use the toilet now?’
He grips me tightly and says quietly, ‘No thank you, I think that it's all gone now.�
��
My heart tightens as I sit holding my little boy. Six years old and about to discover that his little world has fallen apart. I blink back the tears and set my resolve in place. Not now, he can have at least one more day of happiness. I will make sure that he is fine, my momma bear is rushing to the fore and now my little boy is the most important thing in my life.
I paste a smile on my face and tickle him stupid. The sound of his laughter is like a knife to my heart and I feel a sudden rush of hatred for my soon to be ex-husband.
How could he do this to his son? The thought of what is now in my future is almost too much to bear, so I push it all away and start the process of totally overcompensating my son.
‘How about I make you loads of sticky sugary American pancakes for breakfast like they do on the television?’
His screams of joy give me the answer I need and he grabs my hand in excitement and bounds from the bed.
‘Can I eat them in my spaceman suit?’
I nod. ‘Of course, you can Mr Astronaut. While you get suited up I will head off to mission control and prepare for lift off.’
He hurries from the room and leaves me to get a grip.
I'm not sure how I get through the morning ritual of pre-school activity, which usually involves lots of shouting on my part, towards an unruly dog and an errant child.
However, this morning they could draw on the walls, rip up the carpet and slide down the stairs on a mattress for all I care, because there is only one thing buzzing around in my mind, ‘Why me?’
I mean couples separate all the time; in our village, the single parents outnumber the married ones. I have always felt somewhat smug as I looked around at my own cosy stereotypical middle-class family, and felt sorry for the more dysfunctional ones around me.
