‘You do that,’ I’d said, rolling off him and lying on my back, panting. I stared up into the darkness of our bedroom. Mark. Had he done the same thing, gone home and demanded sex from Julia? Or was he going to wait until Monday night . . . and me?
Monday morning was sunny and warm. Once the kids had been fed and watered, I got straight on the phone to Anna and arranged to meet her in the playground down the road. I felt as if I was about to explode with the weight of my guilty secret; I couldn’t think of anyone else to tell. Becca was too loved up with Nick to listen to anything I had to say, and my sisters were just a bit too close for comfort. They would be disapproving, tell me what a terrible mistake I was making in full sisterly honesty. As for my mum, yeah right. She and Dad had been together since the dark ages; she had absolutely no truck with broken marriages. Even if they weren’t actually marriages as such. ‘People don’t work enough at their relationships these days,’ she’d sniffed disapprovingly, more times than I could remember.
Anna, on the other hand, had never met Alex, so I wouldn’t be putting her in a position where she’d have to lie to him, or deceive him in any way, on my behalf. I just wanted ears to hear me spill out those secret words.
It was a gorgeous day, T-shirt weather when the wind dropped. The clouds had melted away to nothing for once, leaving seamless blue sky stretched out underneath. The snowdrops were all out now in the gardens, daffodils too, pushed right up through the bare earth. Leaves were budding on the trees. It was the beginning of March, and new life was bursting out all over the place.
The playground was heaving. Every mum in the area seemed to have had the same idea as us because the sandpit was packed with digging toddlers, there was a queue for the swings, and babies crawled on the warm grass in wonder – the first time they had ever felt it under their hands and knees for some of them. I looked at one who was on all fours, stroking the blades, pulling at a green tuft, with a look of amazement on his face. The beauty of babyhood – the endless discoveries to be made.
Anna was already there, camped out on the edge of the sandpit. Theo was sound asleep in the buggy; Ella was making sandcastles, her small tongue sticking out with concentration.
I parked up beside her, unclipped my boy and then sat down next to Anna, wiggling my shoes off and burrowing my toes into the damp, cool sand. I propped Nathan in a sitting position against my shins and he patted the sand in front of him wonderingly.
I looked around. None of the local gossips were visible. Molly was already engrossed in a chasing game with a boy she’d just palled up with, and was squealing with practised coquettishness.
‘Anna,’ I said, ‘have you ever thought about having an affair?’
She laughed. ‘Oh yeah, right in between changing nappies and toddler music club,’ she joked. ‘In fact, I’m due a secret rendezvous by the swings in ten minutes’ time . . .’ Her voice trailed away as she saw the edgy look on my face. ‘Sade?’ she asked, frowning. She leaned in towards me. ‘Have you got something to tell me?’
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘Actually . . . yeah.’ I coughed. ‘Guess what?’ I said. ‘I think . . . I think I’m about to have an affair.’ The words, when they finally came out, shocked me. Because I hadn’t actually meant to say that. I’d meant to say, I’ve done a really awful thing, then launch into my whole guilt routine. I hadn’t meant to sound quite so . . . certain about it. I tried to backtrack. ‘I mean . . .’
Her mouth fell open. ‘You’re what? An affair?’ She was gaping. ‘For real?’
I nodded. The conversation was definitely straying from the way I’d intended it to. It was real now. I had said it. ‘Yeah,’ I replied.
She was staring with wide eyes, mouth still open, half-shocked, half-intrigued. ‘Wow. Where did that come from? Who is he?’
‘He’s called Mark.’ Just saying his name made me want to squeeze my eyes shut so that I could conjure up his image in my mind. If I tried hard enough, I might even be able to smell his scent. ‘I met him at that dinner party we went to the other weekend. Then I bumped into him out running, and—’
‘Running?’
I laughed at her face. She seemed more incredulous that I had been running than at the news of the affair. ‘Yeah, I know, astonishing, eh?’
Theo chose that moment to wake up, and Anna fumbled with his straps before releasing him. She held him on her knee, both arms around his small body, chin in his straw-blond hair.
‘I’m . . . Blimey, Sadie, I’m really shocked,’ she said. There was a slight look of alarm in her eyes. ‘How come? I thought you and Alex were getting on OK? Well, I mean, you’ve never said . . .’
I shrugged. It felt awkward to mention Alex’s name, here in the sunny playground as small children shrieked and shouted around us. ‘It’s not . . . It’s not really about Alex,’ I said. I pulled a face. ‘Well, all right, it is a bit, I suppose. He’s been pretty crap lately. It’s been getting on my nerves.’ I stopped. That sounded a pathetic excuse, even to me. ‘It’s more about me,’ I went on. ‘You know what I was saying the other week, about wondering if there was more to life? Well, there is. I’ve rediscovered the meaning of it.’
She put a hand over her mouth. Classic body language, Anna, I thought. Hug your child to your chest away from adulterous Sadie. Cover up what you really want to say.
‘Be careful,’ she said doubtfully.
‘I’m not going to leave Alex or anything,’ I assured her. ‘It’s just . . . him. I can’t explain it. I find him so attractive, I’ve just got to . . .’
‘Shag him,’ she finished for me. ‘What, and then that’ll be that? End of ?’
I paused. ‘I don’t know,’ I confessed. ‘Yes, probably,’ I said, warming to the idea. ‘Just to get it out of my system. Then I can carry on like it never happened.’
She raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Like it’s ever that easy . . .’ she said. ‘Sadie – are you sure this is what you want to do?’
I nodded. ‘Do you think I’m awful?’ I asked, but didn’t wait for a reply. ‘It’s just that he makes me feel like I’ve got a parallel life,’ I went on, ‘like somebody’s released me from my boring everyday existence and let me be something else for a change. Someone else.’ I shrugged. ‘Someone who does more outrageous things than me, if that doesn’t sound completely mad.’
She was raising her eyebrows again, grinning. A tightness inside me started to relax. I had been right to tell her. She understood.
‘A parallel life. Nice.’ Her eyes flicked over to Ella. ‘Gently with that, darling. Spades are for digging, not hitting people.’ She turned back to me, face alight with vicarious expectation. ‘So what’s he like, then, Mr Loverman?’ she asked. ‘Mark, did you say? Tell me all about these outrageous things you’ve been doing with him.’
She broke off, squinting across to the far side of the playground, where the path went towards the duckpond. ‘Sadie,’ she said. ‘That’s not him, is it? Over by the fence? There’s a man there staring right at you.’
My heart pounded at the thought; my whole body started to ache at the very idea he could be here, in the park. I stared around blankly at where she was pointing, eyes yearning for a glimpse of Mark’s dark hair, his square shoulders. Already I was thinking of ways I could somehow leave the kids with Anna for two minutes, and maybe vanish into the undergrowth with him . . .
‘Him, the guy in the suit,’ Anna said. ‘There!’
My gaze finally landed upon the man she was pointing at, and I gasped. I really did, a full-blown, dramatic, comedy gasp, as if I were an actress in a sitcom. My God. What was he doing here? Was he following me?
It was Jack. Again! Bloody hell, Jack. He’d followed me from one world I occasionally inhabited to this one, my usual one, thousands of miles away. He was staring at me, and scowled as our eyes met. He shook his head at me, mouth pursed in an angry line, and then stalked away. He’d just needed a wagging finger to complete the look of disapproval.
Ah. I guessed he didn’
t want me to ring him any more. Not now he’d seen me in my natural habitat, small baby at my ankles, scruffy old jeans and no make-up. Not now he knew who I really was.
I started to giggle. I leaned against Anna’s shoulder and laughed, loud enough so that Jack would be able to hear me over all the playground ruckus, if he was listening hard enough. I watched him striding away, out of my life, in his long black coat and shiny shoes. The other side of the fence.
‘Was that him? Why are you laughing?’
‘If I tell you, you’ll think I’m the biggest slut out,’ I gurgled, looking at the empty space where Jack had stood on the path.
‘Sadie! You haven’t!’ Now she really was shocked. I had obviously broken all the rules of the order with that remark. I would be banished from the sisterhood in a matter of seconds.
‘No, I haven’t,’ I said. ‘I—’
‘Nathan – don’t eat that, love,’ Anna said suddenly, leaning forwards to fish something out of his mouth. She held it up. A stone – black and shining from his saliva.
I felt cold. Nathan. For a minute, it was as if I had forgotten he was there at all, propped against my legs. I hadn’t even been looking at him, let alone making sure he wasn’t eating stones or sand or . . .
‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Shit. Thanks, Anna.’ I looked around anxiously. ‘Where are the girls?’
‘They’re on the little climbing frame,’ Anna said, pointing.
I hadn’t even seen them go. Too busy with my stories and my deception. Bad mother. Bad mother. Molly waved at me from the top of the slide and then pushed off, squealing all the way to the bottom.
‘God,’ I said, waving back, trying to smile. ‘I wasn’t even looking.’
Anna gave me a sideways glance. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I was.’
Hiya Dan,
I reckon it’ll go in a week. Quality album, that. Any longer and you’ve priced it too high.
A pint at the end of March sounds great. I’ve got a lot on with work again this month, but hopefully I’ll be able to get out of some of it, and meet you. Give my love and happy returns to your mum.
Sadie x
Danny’s mum had always adored me. She had ambushed me on the High Street one day, not long after Danny had dumped me, clasped me to her hard, high bosom with a squeezing hug, and told me, ‘My son is an idiot, and I’ve told him as much, Sadie. I am so sorry.’
I had dissolved into tears and we’d stood there, clasped together outside Marks and Spencer, as I dripped snot and tears on her flowered polyester chest. That had been the last time I had seen her.
Still, I wasn’t quite sure she would love me so much if she could see me now, nursing a vodka in the Albert, waiting to meet Mark. The other man. Wouldn’t have liked that one bit.
I shoved Mrs Cooper out of my head, ordered her to leave the pub at once. No point getting the guilts now. I was here, same table as last time, watching for the door to swing open and Mark to appear. Mark. Who, as of this evening, was going to be my lover. Maybe. Probably. The thought made me feel sick with nerves, half-frightened, half-euphoric. What I was doing was wrong. I knew that. But it was like the man had said himself – it was too late to stop.
My heart started to thud as I saw the door pushed open. And then he was there, eyes straight over to the table and me, mouth curling in satisfaction. He strode over. My hands were trembling.
‘You came,’ he said.
He bent down and kissed my mouth, steadied himself with a hand on my back.
I kissed him back, eyes closed blindly against the rest of the pub, ears deaf to the jukebox. My nerves vanished as my pulse quickened. This was right. Sod everyone else. This was right, me and Mark. This was good.
He pulled away eventually, looked at me. Grinned. ‘Do you always wear that to go running?’
I looked down at my clothes. It had been like being fourteen again, dressing in secretly tarty clothes and covering myself up with something baggy and unsexy to sneak out in. Alex hadn’t given me a second look as I’d swished by him in my tracksuit. Yet, once in the pub, I had unzipped and discarded my tracksuit top to reveal a low-cut black top, with a black satin bra underneath. And although my tracksuit bottoms were still on, underneath them were matching black satin knickers, tiny enough to be practically indecent. Just in case Mark happened to find his way there.
‘The Chanel was in the wash,’ I said, pretending to shrug.
‘Same again?’ he asked, indicating my glass on the table.
I nodded. ‘Better make it a double,’ I told him.
Ten minutes later, we had left the pub. ‘Where?’ I asked.
‘This way,’ he said. He took my hand and we walked towards the park in silence. Stupid questions kept popping into my head. By the way, Mark, what’s your second name? I feel like I ought to know. And what do you do again? I think I was too drunk to take it in when we first met. And, most important of all, what star sign are you, anyway?
I said nothing. Thought about the warmth of his hand in mine instead. Wondered where he was taking me.
We were on a side-street behind the pub. Industrial-sized waste bins, high brick walls, unlit office buildings. As he opened the door of one red-brick, two-storey unit, I was hit by a flood of irrational fears. What if he was a serial killer? What if this was all a trick to lure me in and chop me up? My children would never see me again. Nathan would have no memory of me whatsoever but Molly would cry every night, ‘Where’s my mummy? I want my mummy!’ And Alex would have to say . . .
He flicked a light on. ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘This is my studio.’
Then he was pulling me through the doorway and up a flight of stairs. I followed, blindly, consumed with excitement. He kissed me hard in the stairwell, and then he was taking me up to a dark corridor, flicking on another light, pushing open a solid pine door, leading me into a dark office with open Venetian blinds. The A3 rumbled below us, streetlights twinkled through the slats.
Before I could take in anything else, he was kissing me again, moving me gently across to a sofa. It was as if we were slow-dancing across the room, locked in each other’s arms. I kicked off my trainers, lips never leaving his, then fumbled with his belt, pulling it through the loops, finding his button and fly. He was yanking down my tracksuit bottoms, his body stiffening in pleasure as his fingers slid across my satin knickers, and then he was undoing my jacket, pulling it off my shoulders, hands under my top, ripping it over my head.
Then we were lying down and he was on top of me, hands inside my bra, cupping my breasts in their silky casing, his breath hot and raggedy in my ear.
My fingers travelled down his chest, jammed their way into his waistband, forced it down over his hips and then I was into his boxers, I had his cock in my hand and he was groaning again.
Somehow we were both naked. He pulled back from my neck, lifted his head to look at me in the half-light. A police siren wailed somewhere below us.
‘You are so gorgeous,’ he said, and, without further warning, plunged into me.
Condoms, I thought fleetingly, but was hypnotized by Mark’s slow smile, the light in his eyes, the weight of him on top of me, the way he had slid right into me. He was a perfect fit.
It was quick; no endless changes of position, no tantric climaxes. His fingers felt foreign after Alex, he was in the wrong place, he didn’t know which spot to hit. And then, before I could show him, he was breathing harder, teeth clenched, his head was rearing up and . . .
‘OHHHHHHH.’
The noise was a roar, loud against the mumble of traffic outside. He slumped heavily on top of me and then, as an afterthought, withdrew quickly and wetly.
I stared at the sticky trail across my leg, sent up a silent prayer. It was probably safe enough.
He was smiling at me, his eyes soft.
‘Phew,’ I said jokily. ‘What was your name again?’
He sat up, stroked my hot cheek. ‘Sorry. That was a bit fast and furious,’ he said. ‘Next time, I’ll be m
ore patient.’
‘Next time?’ I echoed, arching my eyebrows.
He smiled. Kissed my neck. Collarbone. Shoulder. Then he ran a finger between my breasts so lightly I could hardly tell it was there. ‘Next time you go for a run,’ he said. ‘Which is . . .’
‘Wednesday?’ I suggested at once, conveniently forgetting my original plan for once and once only. I stretched my arms behind my head, knowing it made my boobs look good, thanking my lucky stars that I’d shaved my pits that morning.
‘How about tomorrow?’ he asked, tracing a circle around my nipple. We both watched, fascinated, as it quivered.
I shook my head. ‘I’m busy tomorrow night,’ I said, half-regretfully. Lizzie’s book group. I’d been looking forward to it for ages, actually read the book and everything, and now I was on the verge of bailing out.
‘Wednesday it is, then,’ Mark said. ‘Tell you what. Why don’t you come straight here? Save time.’
‘What, less vodka, more shagging?’ I said, paraphrasing.
He laughed, and suddenly squeezed my breast hard, on the very edge of too hard. ‘If you want to put it like that, yes,’ he said lazily, watching my face as I tried not to gasp out loud. ‘What do you say?’
I reached over for my bra. ‘Sounds good to me.’
There was an awkward couple of moments when we pulled our clothes back on. We were somewhere between the lust-fuelled shagging scenario and the goodbye ceremony. Suddenly I could hardly bear to look at him. He flipped a side light on and I looked around his studio instead.
Large windows at one end. Wooden plan chest along one side of the room; a long shelf of books and files above it. White tilted drawing board in front of the window, with a couple of papers attached. The top one showed an intricately mapped-out floor plan.
Aha. Flashing light bulb. He was an architect. Now I remembered.
‘Got everything?’ he said. He took a step towards the door.
I would have liked to look around for a while longer in the hope of picking up more clues about Mark, this man I’d just had electrifying sex with on his office sofa, but he was obviously keen to leave. Shagged her, time to go. Was that what he was thinking?
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