Faking It: The most hilarious and laugh out loud page turner you’ll read this year!

by Rebecca Smith

  Matthew makes a non-committal noise and turns on the radio and we spend the rest of the journey in silence.

  The car arrives at the wine bar and Matthew pulls over.

  ‘Have a nice evening,’ he says as I clamber squeakily out of the car. ‘Don’t do anything that you might regret.’

  I laugh nervously. ‘I intend to have as many regrets from this evening as possible,’ I tell him.

  And then, trying not to fall over I stumble towards the wine bar entrance, hoping that I don’t bump into anyone I know. I can do this. I can walk into a public place wearing what can only be described as bondage gear because something has got to change and I am prepared to go to extreme lengths to get myself out of this rut. I’m not just doing this for me. I’m doing it for my readers too. And my marriage. And with any luck I’ll have arrived first and will have time for a glass of Dutch courage.

  Or maybe two glasses.

  I see him before he sees me. Taking a deep breath, I shrug off my coat and hand it to the doorman. Then I slink across the room and sidle up to the bar, gesturing to the bartender to bring me a drink as I clamber onto the stool next to his. He’s engrossed in his phone and doesn’t notice me sitting there which is funny for the first few seconds and then quickly becomes irritating.

  ‘What’s a nice man like you doing in a seedy joint like this?’ I purr in my sexiest voice, which is also a bit American for some reason, but that’s fine because everyone knows that America is sexier than England, which is obviously why I’ve chosen it as the setting for both my books. And then, very seductively, I stroke his arm.

  He jerks away in shock, flinging his hand and mobile up into the air. ‘Bloody hell, my phone!’

  I wait while he bends down to retrieve it, fixing my most alluring smile to my face. I can do this. I can be any woman I want to be and when this man sees me, his mind is going to be blown.

  I keep waiting while he examines the screen and mutters not very quietly about the cost of the damage.

  I wait a little longer while he checks that he can still receive his emails and that Facebook still works.

  And then I get bored of waiting for him to see me because he’s clearly forgotten that I’m even here. So I do what Twinky would do, which is to speed things up a bit.

  ‘Can I offer you a drink?’ I murmur in my American accent. ‘By way of recompense?’

  He turns and his face registers so many kinds of bewilderment that I can’t count them all.

  And I am finally seen.

  In retrospect, I shouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret. The hair was a big enough surprise, I can kind of understand that now. Coupled with the dominatrix jumpsuit and my seductive accent, which was apparently utterly convincing (I may have a future in Hollywood after all), Nick was, in his own words, completely and utterly shell-shocked by my appearance.

  Which is the excuse that he is using for turning my romantic evening into a complete and utter farce.

  ‘Where is your sense of adventure?’ I wail at him as we stagger out of the wine bar three hours later.

  ‘I was just a bit surprised, that’s all,’ Nick tells me for the hundredth time, raising his arm to wave at our Uber. ‘I’ve never seen you dressed like that before.’

  ‘Exactly!’ I snap. ‘And is it any wonder, when I get a reaction like that one?’

  I can still hear his voice in my head, asking me what the fuckety-fuck I was wearing. I expect I’ll be able to hear it until my dying day.

  At least I’ll be able to write a credible scene for Book Two now. One where Bella Rose tries to do something exciting and Daxx pisses all over her parade like the knobhead that he is.

  ‘You look incredible, Hannah,’ Nick says, grabbing hold of my arm as I stumble on an uneven paving slab. ‘I’ve told you that many, many times over the past few hours.’

  ‘Not enough times to wipe out your initial shitty reaction though,’ I snarl as we clamber into the car. ‘And I clearly don’t look incredible enough for you to have a one-night stand with me despite the fact that I have humiliated and degraded myself by leaving the house dressed like a dominatrix. Hello, Matthew.’

  ‘I thought I told you not to do anything you’d regret,’ Matthew says, shooting Nick a very dirty look in the mirror. ‘Is this man taking advantage of you?’

  ‘No!’ I howl. ‘I went to all this effort and he isn’t even prepared to have an affair with me which is incredibly selfish of him, not to mention completely unsupportive.’

  ‘I don’t understand what it is that you want!’ Nick tells me, throwing his hands in the air. ‘I’ve said that you look amazing and as soon as I’d got over the shock of seeing you I told you that we should head straight home for a night in. And I love your new grey hair.’

  ‘It’s silver!’ I cry, trying and failing to plug in my seatbelt. ‘There is a whole world of difference between those two colours. Silver is lustrous and metallic and glamorous and grey is – well, it’s old. Are you saying that I look old, Nick? Are you?’

  ‘I am not saying that,’ he replies calmly, leaning over and fastening my seat belt. ‘I think you look gorgeous.’

  ‘So why won’t you have a one-night stand with me then?’ I whimper. ‘It’s not fair.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nick asks and I can hear the frustration in his voice. ‘I don’t know what it is that you want, Hannah! I’ve been asking you all evening if we can just go home and spend some time together.’

  ‘I think she wants to have sex with you,’ calls Matthew helpfully, pulling away from the kerb. ‘But you should know, mate – she’s married.’

  ‘I know she’s married,’ says Nick.

  ‘It’s not about sex!’ I shriek at the same time. ‘God, why are men so dense? I know how to have sex. This was about injecting some fun into our relationship. It’s called fantasy, Nick. It’s about the thrill! I was trying to spice up our marriage but I have no idea why I’m even bothering.’

  ‘I just don’t see why you’d want me to pretend to be someone else,’ Nick says, shuddering. ‘I hate all that kind of stuff, Hannah – you know that.’

  It’s true. He’s always had a distinct loathing of anything that requires acting or role-play. In retrospect, it wasn’t the wisest choice of activity to choose for this evening. Especially when Nick thought he was meeting up with one of his mates from work. And I suppose it is quite sweet that he didn’t even want to look at me when he thought I was another woman.

  ‘If you want us to do something that’s a bit different but that’s also a thrill then we could go on that off-road driving day that I told you about,’ he continues. ‘Loads of people go as a couple. I think you might really enjoy it.’

  I slam my hand down on the seat and glare at my husband. ‘That is not the kind of thrill that I’m talking about and the fact that you think a Land Rover driving day will provide what I need speaks volumes, Nick. Volumes!’

  He shrugs. ‘Okay. How about we go out in the kayaks then? Just the two of us. We could take a picnic and go down to the coast and paddle out to a remote spot.’ His eyes light up. ‘Like we used to do.’

  That is actually quite a nice idea.

  But nice ideas are not going to help me identify my inner Sex Goddess and they’re not going to address the tiny issue of whether my husband is going off me, either.

  ‘Look.’ I twist in my seat, ignoring the squeaky noise. ‘I want to remember what it’s like to be excited. I can’t write about the thrill of a liaison if I’m not experiencing it. That’s what tonight was supposed to be about. The excitement of someone new. The way your heart races when they walk into the room. The intoxicating feeling of your eyes meeting and the knowledge that the adventure is only just beginning.’

  I slump back into the seat.

  ‘My heart still races when you walk into the room,’ Nick tells me, reaching out for my hand. ‘I don’t need anyone new – and I love that we’re in the middle of our adventure together and not at the start.’

&nbs
p; I stare at him, struggling to process his words.

  ‘I thought you might have gone off me,’ I say quietly. ‘You’re always busy and I’m always tired and I just wanted us to reconnect.’

  ‘I think we’re connected,’ Nick sounds confused. ‘And I could never go off you. It’s just that I thought that you might be…’

  ‘What?’ I squeeze his hand. ‘You thought that I might be what?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now.’ He turns to stare out of the window. ‘We can talk another time – when we’re not both pissed.’

  I don’t know what that means but I do know that it doesn’t sound good.

  ‘We can talk now,’ I whisper, feeling my heart starting to race. ‘Nick? What is it?’

  He shakes his head and then twists back round to look at me. ‘It’s nothing, babe. Forget I said anything. I just don’t want to play stupid games and pretend that we’re other people. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too,’ I sniff.

  ‘So you two are married then?’ Matthew gawks at us in the mirror. ‘Crikey – I thought me and my missus had problems but you guys make us look like the Beckhams.’ He pauses for a minute. ‘They’re still together, right?’

  ‘Keep calling her your missus and you’re going to have even more problems before too long,’ I murmur.

  We sit in silence as Matthew navigates the rainy streets. It’s warm inside the car and I like sitting here with my hand tucked inside Nick’s. It’s as if real life is on pause for a few minutes and we can just be. The worries can all fade into the background.

  ‘Here you go then,’ says Matthew, pulling up outside our house. ‘And good luck to the two of you. I think you’re going to need it!’

  Nick leaps out and I shuffle across the seat, keen to take as few steps as possible in these torturous shoes. And then he holds my arm and we walk up the garden path, lights blaring from every room in the house despite the fact that Scarlet and Benji will both be in bed by now.

  Nick squeezes my hand as we reach the front door. ‘We can give it another go,’ he offers. ‘Now that I know what you were aiming for. You can be Twinky Malone, Sex Goddess, and I can be whoever you want me to be.’

  ‘I want you to be you,’ I tell him, shaking my head and then stretching up to kiss him.

  He kisses me back and then breathes a sigh of relief. ‘Thank god for that,’ he tells me, unlocking the door. ‘Because I wasn’t sure for a bit back there and I’m pretty shit at doing accents.’

  We walk inside the silent house and I lurch across the hallway to collapse down onto the stairs. ‘God, my feet are killing me.’

  I undo the straps and ease my shoes off, rubbing my sore heels with my hands. When I glance up, Nick is gazing at me with a look that makes my heart speed up.

  ‘You’ve got no idea how beautiful you are, do you?’ he murmurs.

  ‘It’s the dominatrix jumpsuit,’ I tell him, pulling a daft face. ‘What can I say? I’m gorgeous.’

  He shakes his head. ‘You’re definitely gorgeous but not because of the outfit. It’s you, Hannah.’ He walks across to where I’m sitting and holds out his hand. ‘It’s always been you.’

  He pulls me to my feet and we walk slowly up the stairs. And I know that Nick is right and that we need to talk properly. I know that the worries haven’t gone for good and tomorrow they’ll be waiting for me when I walk back down these very stairs, but right now, the answer to everything is that I give zero fucks.

  Well, maybe not quite zero. Maybe I’ve got one left to give tonight.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Can you both please hurry up?’ I shout as I walk into the kitchen. ‘We should have left for school ages ago.’

  ‘I can’t find my PE kit,’ moans Benji. ‘Have you seen it?’

  I glare at him. ‘Well, where did you leave it?’

  He stares back at me. ‘I don’t know. If I knew where I’d left it then I’d be able to find it, wouldn’t I?’

  I narrow my eyes even further. I am not in the mood. Not this morning.

  ‘Don’t be so rude,’ I tell him. ‘And find your kit.’

  His face wrinkles up in confusion. ‘I wasn’t trying to be rude. I was just telling the truth.’

  ‘Yes, well – if you weren’t being rude then you were being illogical and that’s almost as bad,’ I snap.

  ‘He was actually being highly logical,’ Scarlet informs me, getting up from the kitchen table. ‘He would know where his kit was if he knew where he’d left it.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ I warn her. ‘And wash up your own cereal bowl. I’m not your slave. And where did you put my scarf after you’d borrowed it? I haven’t seen it anywhere.’

  Scarlet shrugs. ‘Maybe it’s in the same place as Benji’s PE kit?’

  ‘I’ll put the milk away,’ says Benji enthusiastically, clearly keen to distract me. He bounds across the room to the fridge and then pulls up short. ‘Hey! Why have you got your own sticker chart on here? Where’s ours? That’s not fair!’

  I grab my bag and start to look inside, checking that I’ve got my wallet and diary. ‘Yours has been gone for almost a week and neither of you have noticed so I think it’s safe to say that it’s entirely fair. Plus, I’m the only person around here who does any actual work, so why shouldn’t I have my own reward chart?’ I straighten up and sling my bag onto my shoulder. ‘I’m leaving in two minutes, with or without you.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ll just go back to bed then,’ mutters Scarlet, holding her hands up in self-defence when I shoot her a glare. ‘Just joking. God – someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.’

  She scurries out of the room and I exhale slowly. She’s not wrong. I did wake up on the wrong side of the bed – Nick’s side. I hadn’t even realised that he’d left for work until my alarm went off and he was nowhere to be seen. He did text me, saying that he couldn’t sleep so he’d decided to get an early start but it’s done nothing to calm the swirling, aching sensation in my stomach and the growing suspicion that I am doing something wrong.

  ‘Why have you got two gold stars on here?’ asks Benji, staring at the chart. ‘What did you do to get them?’

  ‘Have you found that PE kit?’ I ask, whirling to face him. ‘No? Then you’ve now got one minute to find a solution and get yourself out to the car.’ I clap my hands. ‘There’s no time to lose. Come on – chop, chop.’

  He opens the fridge door and flings the milk inside and then dashes past me, his face a picture of panic.

  ‘You could try looking on the upstairs landing,’ I call helpfully after him. ‘Where you dropped it yesterday.’

  Sure, I could have told him that when he first asked. The old me would have told him, if she hadn’t already picked up his kit and hung it up on his coat hook in the hall. But the new me isn’t such a pushover. The new me would rather leave his bag exactly where he dropped it and if any of us had broken our necks by tripping over it and falling down the stairs, then he would have learnt a valuable life lesson about taking responsibility for his belongings.

  I am a parenting guru. I should probably think about writing a book about this shit.

  Two hours later I am sitting in the staffroom and my mood has not improved. I’ve sent Nick several texts and had perfectly pleasant if slightly brisk responses which is not where I hoped we’d be after my attempt at date night. Both of those gold stars on my reward chart were a result of our not-entirely disastrous night and I thought that we’d managed to even things out between us a little. But he’s still super distracted all the time and I keep replaying the conversation we had on the way home from the wine bar.

  ‘I thought that you might be—’

  I know what he was going to say. It’s totally obvious and I’m not stupid. He thinks I’m cheating on him. It makes perfect sense if you think about it. I’m spending all this time transforming myself into someone different and he’s got to be wondering why. I thought I was being quite subtle about my attempts to stoke up the
fires of our passion but if The Butter Churner night made him suspicious then my crack at role-play has possibly pushed him over the edge.

  I hate the idea of Nick thinking that I’m having an affair and under normal circumstances I would have it out with him in a heartbeat. But it’s kind of complicated and it’s not like he’s exactly being Mr Chatty. I just don’t know what to say to him – but I do know that we both seem to be avoiding each other with the same amount of enthusiasm right now.

  ‘Your hair is amazing, Hannah!’ says Cassie, throwing herself into the chair opposite me. ‘So why are you looking like someone just died?’

  I give her an over-the-top, snarky fake grin. ‘God, you’re worse than the bloke who walked past me this morning, telling me to “give us a smile”. What a twat.’

  Cassie holds her hands in the air, exactly like Scarlet did earlier. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

  I hide a genuine smile behind my glower. I like the way it makes me feel, these domineering women bowing to my whims. Maybe the dominatrix jumpsuit is starting to rub off on me.

  ‘So what is wrong with you?’ Cassie asks. ‘From the look on your face I’m going to guess either Miriam or Nick.’

  ‘Nick,’ I tell her. ‘Or maybe me. I’m not sure. But I don’t want to talk about it.’

  She nods sympathetically and pulls a stack of books out of her bag, flipping over the first one and starting to slash through the page with her red pen. We aren’t supposed to use red pen anymore – someone on the Senior Leadership Team decided that it’s confrontational and aggressive and might upset the pupils. Instead we’re supposed to use a variety of neon highlighters to indicate areas of progress and room for improvement and next steps and spelling mistakes and grammatical errors and god knows what else. It takes me longer to mark the work than it takes the class to actually do it, which can’t be right if you think about it. Cassie is clearly choosing to ignore this policy in the same way that she ignores every other policy ever issued by the Senior Leadership Team. I have no idea how she gets away with it but she always does. I have come to the conclusion that she must have some serious dirt on Miriam.