by Jenny Kane
‘Kit, will you shut up and listen for a second, I’m trying to explain.’
Forcing herself not to use some of the words she never spoke out loud, but frequently wrote down, Kit hissed, ‘Then tell me, preferably without the aid of lyrical references.’
‘OK, OK.’ He sat up straight and prepared to explain himself as best he could.
Jack spoke without drawing breath for at least ten minutes. He was afraid to stop just in case Kit jumped in with a comment, and right now he had to get out what he wanted to say without interruption. He knew he was repeating himself, and that he’d already apologised at least three times for being selfish, and mentioned how comfortable he had felt with Kit, five times after that. He stressed how he hadn’t wanted to let go of a good thing. That that was what he meant about being addicted. He’d told Kit more than she ever wanted or needed to know about the past fortnight, and how he’d used the men he picked up to block out the mess he’d made of his life; was continuing to make of it.
‘So,’ Jack concluded, ‘here I am, thirty-five years old, with no special partner and no prospect of kids. I’m sat here opposite my closest friend and I feel sick to the pit of my stomach that I’ve upset her. I’m sorry Kit. Sorry for my behaviour then, sorry for my behaviour now, sorry for not understanding how you felt or how you feel. Sorry for always putting myself first. Sorry.’
Jack collapsed back into his chair, aware he’d probably raised his voice rather too loud for a private conversation, and waited for Kit to react. She was cradling her massive cup, her pen and notebook lay open before her, the meagre amount of words she’d managed that morning had been scribbled out viciously in red pen.
Eventually Kit spoke, ‘Did you mean it?’
‘Which bit?’
‘You said you didn’t want a life without me in it.’
‘I meant it. I also meant all the other stuff as well. I need you, Kit.’
She nodded, a resigned expression across her hurt face, ‘and you even wanted me once upon a time, but more than that? Ah, I guess it’s back to that old Meat Loaf number, isn’t it, Jack. “Two Out Of Three Ain’t Bad”, huh?
‘Ouch.’
‘That’s exactly what I thought at the time.’
‘But you didn’t react then,’ Jack could feel his hackles rising, his hands whirling in frustration, ‘you just carried on.’
‘Phil always says I have one major character flaw. He says I’m too nice.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself! You’re not too nice; you’re just taken selflessness to a bloody ridiculous level. You were allowed to argue with me, to tell me off. You were such a fucking martyr. You still are.’ Jack was one decibel short of shouting now, earning him a black look from Peggy.
Kit murmured at him, her words barely audible as she put her mug down with a clatter, ‘I’m not saying I wasn’t at fault too. I know I should have stood up for myself more, had some pride in myself. Argued with you or something. Oh what’s the point!’
Suddenly Kit felt overwhelmingly tired, ‘Look Jack, it’s all done, OK. This is an argument eleven or twelve years too late. I was upset. You’ve said sorry, so that’s it.’
‘That’s it?’ Jack briefly dared to hope she meant it. ‘You can’t get all angry and then suddenly stop being cross – can you?’
‘Actually, I can. This is so utterly pathetic and pointless. We can’t rework the past, can we? It is what it is. Which I’m glad about, because for a while I was happy with you. And as a consequence of you and me splitting up, I met Phil. I love him to bits, and we’re happy together with the twins. So it’s OK.’
‘And us. Are we OK?’
Kit sighed again, ‘I need some time Jack. It’s as if … I don’t know how to explain it. As if I have accidentally discovered I was a failed experiment. You know the sort of thing? “Let’s see if Kit will take it up the arse, let’s see if that is enough, see if treating her like a man will make up for the fact that she’ll never feel or think or touch like a man, and then maybe I won’t need one.”‘
Jack paled, ‘Kit, I never …’
‘And lucky you! Kit did like it that way didn’t she? Lucky sod. I bet they had plenty of laughs about that at whichever gay bar you told that story at.’
‘I … it never occurred to me … Kit?’ The last drops of blood drained from Jack’s face as he realised that what she said was, in some way the truth, although a totally unconscious truth on his part.
‘As I said,’ Kit paused to collect her quiet, faltering voice, ‘I’m sure we’ll be fine, I don’t want a life without you either, but I do need some time.’
‘OK.’ Jack felt choked, digesting a feeling of unaccustomed hopelessness as he acknowledged her request.
Kit glanced at the clock that hung above the counter. ‘Oh God, it’s getting late. I have to go.’
‘Right.’ Jack watched, still slumped, as Kit stuffed all her writing paraphernalia into her faded handbag. She put her coat on and, as she hoisted her bag over shoulder, said more kindly, ‘This is nothing to do with you being gay, Jack. Really. I know what I said might make it seem that way, but it isn’t. It’s about being taken for granted. You do get that, don’t you?’
Jack said nothing so she continued, ‘Perhaps it is me. Perhaps I’m the problem not you. Everything around me is changing. You producing another version of your past, Phil hating his job and carrying on like no one’s noticed, the twins growing into teenagers way too early before my eyes, me needing to use medicinal cream on my feet and moisturiser on my hands, and I can see forty approaching me from the other side of the hill. So it probably is me.’ She started to walk away.
‘“Everybody’s Changing”‘
Kit turned back sharply. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Keane. “Everybody’s Changing”. The lyrics sum everything up perfectly.’ Jack instantly regretted disclosing his musical reflection.
Kit felt more sad than angry, ‘Of course. Good old Jack, a lyric for every occasion.’
Twenty-one
October 16th 2006
Phil pushed the remainder of his late pub lunch aside. He dug his mobile from his jacket pocket and phoned Chris at the office. Crossing his fingers as he spoke, he said, ‘I’m sorry mate, Kit’s not well, can you cope without me this afternoon?’
‘Sure. Nothing urgent has come up. Hope she feels better soon. See you tomorrow?’
‘Hope so. Thanks mate.’ Striding fast, slipping his mobile back into his coat, Phil felt cross. And scared. Jack. Bloody Jack. Why the hell did he feel threatened by him?
Phil loved Kit and she loved him; but when was the last time he’d told her? What if that idiot Jack had changed his mind about the whole gay thing and wanted her back? Oh God. Phil stopped dead, almost causing an old lady to walk into his back. No, that wasn’t it; think logically, man. Get a grip. Perhaps this was all simply an overdue, inevitable spat. Maybe his wife had stood up for herself for once. He damned well hoped so.
Flowers; he’d get some flowers and go home early. He’d almost reached the florist when he realised what he was doing. Kit hated cut flowers, what the hell was he thinking? He tried to stop the panic rising in his chest. He wasn’t going to lose her. Even though he knew in his gut that this wasn’t about Kit leaving him, in fact, it wasn’t about him and Kit at all, Phil couldn’t shake the feeling that he had to do something before it was too late.
Then it seemed obvious. A tape. All this was sparked, or so it appeared, over some stupid tape. God knew why, but maybe he could use the idea. He’d make a CD, and burn onto it all the tunes that told Kit how much he loved her. He turned and almost ran back to the bookshop. Rob had a computer with Internet access, and was bound to have a spare CD he could borrow. Jack clearly wasn’t going to make an appearance today. Phil had the feeling he needed to work fast.
Her confused anger evaporated as Kit stamped out of the café towards home. With each step she felt an easing of pressure at the realisation that, for almost the first time in her life she�
��d stood up for herself. Yet she felt ashamed. She should never have said all that about the sex life she’d shared with Jack. If she hadn’t been up for it, then he’d never have made her do any of that stuff.
She didn’t know why she felt so upset about the existence of Amy. Perhaps it was because of the tape? The fact he’d cared enough about Amy to finish her tape off, but had never bothered to even start hers. But then, Kit reasoned, that was unfair too. It hadn’t been Amy’s idea to make a tape really; it had been her brother’s. Kit felt that it was still worth taking a stand over though, even if her logic was confused. Despite her underlying guilt, Kit felt her argument with Jack had done her good. Maybe it would do him good too?
Reaching her front door, and turning the key in the lock, Kit smiled as she remembered that she’d managed to have the last word. Blimey, what’s happening to me? That never happens!
Dumping her bag and discarding her shoes, Kit grabbed an apple instead of a late lunch, and went straight up to her office. It was high time she caught up on those Christmas stories for Pearls, and suddenly she was in the mood to steam a story onto the screen.
After the first five men had sat on Santa’s lap to have the Christmas wishes granted, Ann was glad to have a break. She needed a drink to remove the taste of condom and sweat from the three blowjobs she’d just given, and to calm her own rising desire after the last two guys’ activities.
They had visited Santa together, sitting on a knee each; they’d requested an intimate examination of her chest. Santa had obliged, removed his gloves and undid Ann’s bodice, revealing her firm bare tits. The visitors fell on a breast each, both using their given five minutes to gorge on, and feel up, as much of her body as they could.
Ann knew that she had at least four more customers to grant wishes to before she could even think about her own satisfaction, but her tits, now firmly secured back behind the fairy costume’s gold fabric, nagged at her for more attention.
Santa stuck his head around the door. ‘Five minutes, honey.’
She took another sip of water.
He paused, ‘Do you think you’ll make it? I’ve never seen you so horny; I can practically smell you …’
‘Hi, love!’
Kit hit Save as she heard the front door slam behind Phil, clicked on her screen-saver, and set off towards the kitchen, ‘You’re early, everything OK?’
‘Yeah, fine. I’ve had an out-and-about sort of a day, and I was closer to home than the office, so I called it a day.’
‘Great,’ Kit reached out and kissed her husband, ‘Is an easy dinner OK? Omelette or something? The twins are at a friend’s house for tea, and I’ve taken advantage and tried to catch up on some stories. Lost track of time. Sorry.’
‘Sounds great, especially the having-the-house-to-ourselves bit,’ Phil came up to his wife as she poked a tea bag around his mug and put his arms around her. ‘You feeling better?’
‘I am, actually. I’m sorry I’ve been low.’ Kit looped her arms around her husband’s waist.
Phil cocked his head to one side in enquiry, ‘You and Jack talked?’
‘Sort of. He apologised and I listened.’
‘Jack apologised! Boy, that’s a first.’ Phil hugged Kit closer to his side, so is that it? Normal service resumed?’
‘No, but I think I’m in control for once, and although I’m probably being mean, it does feel good to have him dangling on the hook for a change.’
‘That’s my girl. I’m proud of you.’ Phil gathered Kit up and whispered into her ear. ‘When do you have to collect the twins?’
‘You have to collect them at 6.30.’
‘That’s a whole hour and a half away.’
‘True.’ Kit smiled up at her husband, and telepathically agreed with his unspoken idea that they could make better use of the time than just eating omelette.
Jack watched his friends among the mass of male bodies jumping about in an approximation of dance. His pint, discarded and forgotten, sat on the table beside him, and his brain seethed with confusion. The usual vibrancy of the place felt stale. The background beat pounded through his head like a constant irritation, rather than an exciting rhythm of expectation. When on earth was Amy going to call?
He dug his mobile from his pocket and re-read the text Kit had sent only moments after his arrival at the club.
Don’t shag for revenge. Take care. K x
‘Shit,’ Jack said to no one in particular. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing at the club again anyway. Kit had assumed he’d pitch up here tonight. And as usual, she was right.
An image of Kit sat writing at her corner table in Pickwicks floated into Jack’s head. It quickly merged into one of Toby serving coffee, before becoming Peggy’s stern glance as he’d struggled to keep his temper under control, until finally it fixed on a picture of a youthful Amy, walking hand in hand with him through the university grounds.
This was ridiculous.
He knocked back his beer and went home.
Twenty two
October 17th 2006
‘And then he produced a CD from his briefcase.’ Kit couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Hang on,’ Peggy put down the spray detergent and cloth she’d been using to clean off a neighbouring table. ‘Let me get the story straight so far. You had great sex, fetched the kids, put them to bed, had supper, and then Phil produced a CD?’
‘You got it.’ Kit’s grin was contagious; Peggy couldn’t help but began back at her.
‘Go on. What next?’
‘He took the stereo upstairs, tucked me up in bed and then brought up two glasses of wine. Honestly! Phil has never done anything remotely romantic before. I have no idea what got into him.’
‘Who cares?’ Peggy was thrilled to see her friend so happy again.
‘True.’ Kit smirked the smirk of a woman who’d recently been thoroughly made love to. ‘Anyway, we snuggled down together, and he turned on the stereo.’
Peggy flicked her fingers through the serviettes. ‘What was on it?’
Kit blew across the surface of her coffee, cooling it before she spoke. ‘It was perfect Peggy, he chose such great stuff, but best of all, the last track was the first song played at our wedding, “The Power of Love” by Frankie Goes to Hollywood. We both love that.’
‘That’s so cute! I like that one too. Ooh, and all that stuff in the lyrics about protection – does that mean Phil’s going to guard you from Jack’s stroppy moods?’ Peggy began to sing the relevant lines in her happy off-key way.
‘I never thought of that!’ Kit laughed at the idea, ‘Anyway, it’s a great piece of music and it was a fabulous evening. God knows where Phil got the idea from …’
Kit stopped short, the happiness wiped from her face.
‘What? What is it?’
‘The tape. He knows about the tape. Well, the lack of tape.’ Kit could feel horror rising in her gullet.
Peggy raised her hand in a do-not-move gesture, rushed over to the cluttered but clean counter, and fetched the coffee peculator jug and a straw. ‘Here you go. Forget the mug; you might as well take it straight from source.’
Kit laughed through her sudden gloom, before saying, ‘Oh hell, but what if ...?’
Her friend interrupted as she sat back down, ‘I heard enough of what was going on yesterday with Jack to fill in the gaps between what I already knew. You’ve been holding out on me big time!’
Groaning, Kit rested her head in her hands, ‘It was another life ago, Peggy. Not my finest hour.’
‘That doesn’t matter. Nor does it matter if Phil knows more than you thought he did.’ Peggy put her hand on Kit’s shoulder, ‘What does matter is that he cares enough to find out about what was making you sad. He obviously doesn’t blame you for whatever it was, and has done something amazing to show you how much he loves you.’
Kit was cautious, ‘You think so?’
‘I do.’ Peggy’s tone was definite.
The writer lifted her head back up
, ‘Thanks, Peggy.’
‘Don’t thank me, honey. You have a great man there. Do not screw up a good life over a mistake you made however many years ago.’
‘You are a wise old thing, aren’t you?’
‘Student of life, me,’ Peggy reached forward, and spoke in a hushed tone, ‘You loved Jack, didn’t you?’
Kit lowered her eyes again. ‘I never told anyone. Not even him.’
‘But he knows, doesn’t he?’
‘I think he might.’ A fog of uncertainty clouded at the edges of Kit’s eyes.
‘It doesn’t matter if he does,’ Peggy was uncharacteristically serious, ‘the question is: do you love Phil?’
Kit snapped her head back up and looked directly at her friend. ‘More than anyone. Ever.’
‘Then you having loved Jack once upon a time doesn’t matter. You haven’t done anything wrong. You haven’t cheated on anyone; you’ve just been made to feel cheated. I think. Now,’ Peggy stood up straight and smoothed her apron in a businesslike manner, ‘would you like a cup for that coffee or is the straw enough?’
Kit grinned, ‘If it comes complete with a scone, then I’ll have a cup, ta.’
‘Coming up,’ Peggy fetched Kit’s order, ‘Oh,’ she called across the room, ‘you haven’t forgotten to tell me anything else apart from the fact your gay best friend was once your lover, have you?’
‘What the hell could top that?’ Kit felt her earlier smile begin to return.
‘That you secretly write erotica for a living?’ Peggy put her hand to her mouth in mock outrage, ‘Oh, but you do that anyway don’t you?’
‘To be honest, Peggy, I’m not sure I do anymore. Not exclusively anyway.’
‘What?’ Peggy rushed back to the table. This was serious; her free supply of smut was in jeopardy, ‘What do you mean? You’re so good at it!’
Kit accepted the compliment gracefully, ‘Well, thanks, but although I am very proud of what I’ve written, I’m running out of ways to grind people’s bits together in new and original ways. I feel it’s time to move the writing on a bit. Try something straight before returning to the kink.’
