Over You

by Lucy Diamond

  She breathed in hard, and put her arms around herself. Come on, Rose. What’s keeping you?

  She and Pete had been trying for a daughter for so long now. Too long. And Pete had absolutely no idea she’d been stocking up with baby things in preparation. He’d probably think she was mad.

  Maybe she was.

  Josie peeled a couple of potatoes and slung them into the pan of water. So if we have sex on Sunday night, she reminded herself, and every day until Wednesday, then maybe, just maybe …

  She would cook something with shellfish on Sunday, she decided, so that she could boost Pete’s sperm with a bit of zinc – did a prawn curry count? Maybe she could order in a takeaway – nothing too chilli-tastic, just something to get them in the mood …

  Josie checked how much wine they had in the rack. Three bottles of white, four reds, some bubbly. Well, she couldn’t see Pete polishing that lot off on his own tomorrow night, however knackering a day he’d had, so there would definitely be some left for Sunday …

  She grimaced. It wasn’t like she needed alcoholic help when it came to seducing her own husband but … you know, anything to oil the wheels was a bonus. She could even dig out some of the sexy underwear that he always bought her for birthdays (uncomfortable, chafing, cold) – even if, truth be told, big Primark knickers were the finest thing since chunky Kit-Kats in her opinion.

  Josie watched the magpie flap away and felt a twist of sadness that she and Pete had once been unable to take their hands off each other, yet nowadays, he would paw at her hopefully once the lights were off and, nine times out of ten, she’d sigh and say, ‘Oh, sorry, love, I’m just sooo shattered tonight,’ or whatever. Headache. Not in the mood. Must get an early night because of blah-blah-blah tomorrow.

  She always hated herself during the moment of silence as he took his hands off her and rolled over, rebuffed, but then felt nothing but blissful relief as she shut her eyes and said good-night into the darkness.

  Sunday night, however, would be different. He’d love it!

  There was a scream outside and suddenly only Sam was on the climbing frame, white-faced, his mouth one enormous, shocked ‘MUM!’

  The sausages were burning. The smoke alarm shrieked.

  Snap out of it, Josie, she told herself savagely, racing outside to her oldest boy. His face was a sickly eau-de-nil as he lay sobbing and shaken on the grass. Catch a grip! Look where daydreaming gets you!

  The unpredictability of the traffic, late-running meetings and post-work drinks all made the equation of Pete’s ETA home dificult to calculate on any given evening. Sometimes, very occasionally, he’d be back in time to give the boys a bath after their tea, which meant an orgy of splashing, whooping and speedboat noises. Other times, also relatively occasionally, he wouldn’t be in until they were asleep under their dinosaur quilts, an arm or leg flung over the side of the bunk bed, hair fluffed against the pillow. Most nights, they would hear his car pull up, the engine die and the clunk of the central locking outside as Josie was reading the boys their bedtime stories. It was pretty much Josie’s favourite time of the day. Her sons, in their pyjamas, smelling of soap, hair damp and sticking up, both leaning into her as she read them The Smallest Dragon or Pirate Peg-Leg, or whatever had been chosen. Gone was all the bravado of the daytime. As twilight fell, they seemed to regress to babyhood, clambering on to her knee, sucking their thumbs, wanting cuddles.

  On this night, she had just opened her mouth to read the first line of Where’s That Monster? when there was the usual clunk from outside the window. Both boys whipped their heads around immediately, monsters forgotten.

  ‘Dad!’ cheered Toby, leaping off her knee.

  ‘Daddy!’ echoed Sam a second later, racing after his brother.

  The front door opened and Josie leaned back against the sofa, listening to them contentedly. Her three boys. Team Winter all present and correct!

  ‘Dad, I fell off the climbing frame!’ Toby was boasting. ‘Right from the top, like a dive-bomber. Can you see my plaster? Look! There was loads of blood. Loads!’

  ‘Dad, I can hop on my own – look!’ Sam’s voice was next, with accompanying thumps. ‘See, Dad? Can you see I’m hopping? Toby can’t do it yet, just me. He still has to hold on to the wall. Look, Dad. See that?’

  ‘Excellent, excellent.’ Pete sounded distracted. It often took him longer than the commute home to leave the office behind. Josie felt an anxious ache inside at the thought of Sam’s proud, hopeful face, and crossed her fingers that it hadn’t melted to disappointment, mouth turned down, triumph unheeded.

  ‘Good day?’ Josie asked, getting up as he came into the living room. He looked tired, she noticed – grey-faced, eyes slightly pouched – but just as handsome as he’d been when she’d met him eight years ago.

  ‘Not bad,’ he said, pulling his tie off and tossing it on to the sofa.

  He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. Still hadn’t pulled her in for a kiss. Something’s wrong, she thought uneasily.

  ‘Everything all right, Pete?’ she asked. ‘Shall I get you a drink?’

  The boys were swarming all over him and at first she thought he hadn’t heard her. It was only when he’d swung Toby up around one shoulder and was dangling Sam upside-down that he glanced across to where she was hovering. ‘Love one,’ he said. ‘Glass of red would hit the spot.’

  ‘OK,’ she said, walking into the kitchen. This was all about her going away tomorrow, she thought, with a flash of annoyance. A pre-emptive sulk to make her feel bad about leaving him with the boys for one single night, even though he’d disappeared on business trips for days on end, and had stayed in London loads of times when his meetings had run over unexpectedly. ‘Nell and Lisa?’ he’d echoed when she’d announced her intentions. ‘But … Well … You should have asked me first. I might have been busy that weekend!’

  ‘Well, you’re not,’ she’d replied. ‘I checked on the calendar. Oh, go on, Pete, it’s only for one night …’

  He’d huffed and puffed a bit, tried to joke about Nell and Lisa being a bad influence on her (as if!), but for once Josie had dug her heels in. She really, really wanted this weekend. And the more he went on at her, the more determined she was to have it. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it, that he looked after the kids on his own for once?

  She gritted her teeth as she took down a glass for him, then, as an afterthought, one for herself too. They’d been over this already. They both knew she was going. He didn’t have to make such a fuss about it all over again now, did he?

  And here’s me, trotting into the kitchen like an obedient little wifey to pour him a drink! Josie thought, yanking out a wine bottle from the rack. Well, as from tomorrow morning, Josie Winter, obedient wifey, is temporarily history. And Josie Bell, party animal, can bloody well make a comeback – and about time too!

  Chapter Two

  ‘Bye then, boys. Be good,’ she said. It was Saturday morning and Josie was crouched in the hall, holding her sons tightly as if she were trying to imprint their shapes on to her body.

  ‘Are you going to bring us back a present?’ Toby wanted to know.

  Josie laughed and kissed his freckled nose. ‘Maybe. If you’re really really good for Dad …’

  ‘Yeah!’ he cheered, confident already. ‘Thanks, Mum! Come on, Sam, let’s get the pirate stuff out.’

  Toby ran out of the room, but Sam stayed close to Josie as she hugged Pete goodbye. ‘Have fun,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring you later, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ he replied. ‘And have fun yourself.’

  ‘I’m going to, don’t worry,’ she said. Then she picked up her bag. ‘I hope I’ve got everything,’ she muttered, fighting the urge to undo it and check.

  Pete rolled his eyes. ‘What are you like? You just need PMT – pants, money, toothbrush. That’s all anyone ever needs.’

  Josie hoisted her bag up on to her shoulder and stuck her tongue out at him. ‘For starters, no self-respecting woman calls them “pants” – a
nd for seconds—’ She smiled, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. ‘For seconds, I’m going to be late. Bye, Pete. Love you. And don’t forget – tomorrow’s you-know-what day.’

  He frowned. ‘What?’

  Josie flushed. He had forgotten. Well, she wasn’t about to remind him right now, what with the boys’ ears being so finely tuned to anything remotely personal. ‘Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow. God, that sounds weird, doesn’t it? I can’t remember when I last said that! I—’

  ‘Josie – train,’ Pete reminded her. He opened the front door for her. ‘Go get.’

  ‘OK, I’m going, I’m going.’

  ‘Bye, Mum!’ Sam shouted, leaning against the doorframe.

  ‘Bye, love,’ she said, a lump rising in her throat at the sight of his pale little face. Come on, she told herself, walking down the drive. It’s not like you’re leaving them. It’s not like you’re never coming back. This is one night away – one well-earned night away – and you’ll be home tomorrow. And then before you know it you’ll be sucked back into real life, and this will just be a single blip of excitement that once happened. End of.

  Josie felt her stride picking up as she went down the road. There she was, clip-clopping along in her high-heeled brown boots and nicest pink coat, looking for all the world as if she was quite unattached. Quite free.

  A grin slid over her face. Free. It wasn’t a word she’d used to describe herself for a long time. But today she was free from the kitchen sink, and the washing machine, and the—

  Oh, bollocks. She knew there was something she’d forgotten. She fished in her pocket for her mobile and dialled home.

  Pete answered on the sixth ring, breathlessly beating the answerphone. ‘We’re all right! We’re surviving!’ he told her before she’d even said hello. ‘Nobody’s injured or crying yet!’

  Josie laughed. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘it’s just I remembered I left my coat in the washing machine, and I put it on the synthetics programme, so when it stops, you need to take out the coat and give the rest a spin. Oh, and—’

  ‘Hang on, let me write this down,’ Pete said. ‘Synthetics, coat, spin … OK, got it.’

  ‘And don’t let the boys play with the furry collar from it, will you?’ Josie added. ‘They pretend it’s a fur snake and … Well, anyway, I took it off before I washed it – it’s a detachable one, it just buttons on and off – and I’ve put it on one of the shelves on the dresser. So …’

  ‘OK, got it,’ Pete repeated. It was hard to tell whether he was bemused or on the verge of irritated. ‘Anything else?’

  Josie licked her lips, then whipped her tongue back in her mouth before she removed all her new lippy. ‘Um … No. Sorry. That’s it,’ she said.

  A shout went up from Pete’s end of the phone, and Josie strained her ears to tell whose voice it had been. Sam or Toby? Was one of them hurt?

  ‘Better go,’ Pete said. ‘Bye, Jose.’

  ‘Wait – who’s—?’ Josie started, but the line went dead. She held the phone to her ear for a moment, half wondering if she should call again in a minute to find out if either of the boys was injured, and if she needed to rush back home to wait for the ambulance, and …

  No. Don’t, she told herself, stuffing the phone back in her pocket. She strode forward assertively. The boys shouted all day long. In fact, the more she thought about it, the shout she’d heard just then had sounded like a fighting-pirate kind of shout, rather than a broken-bone kind of shout. She hoped.

  OK.

  Back to the weekend. Yes!

  London, here she came!

  Josie could hardly sit still as the train approached King’s Cross. It was all so familiar and yet so strange. She’d actually lived near King’s Cross for a while (although, of course, she’d told everyone it was Islington) and had loved being in the thick of everything. Yeah, sure, there were smackheads and prostitutes on every corner, there were burger wrappers blowing in the wind, plastering themselves around your ankles anywhere you walked, and there were the hustlers too, always on the look-out for dumb tourists with cameras hanging off them and pinchable wallets in pockets. That came with the territory. But there were some good pubs, too; it was close to everything, she could walk to work, and it had made her blood leap with happiness to feel part of the city bustle and pace.

  Now, obviously, she couldn’t imagine anything worse than having to live here. Too dangerous, too hectic, too scary. Which was why she and Pete had upped and left for the suburbs as soon after the boys had been born as they could manage it.

  The ’burbs. She had a love–hate relationship with where she lived, the bland Toytown streets and houses with their neat Identikit gardens and people-carriers on the drives. Their house was only ten years old, and Pete had jumped at it during one of their house-hunting missions, especially as his new job was just a few miles away. In hindsight, Josie hadn’t been in a fit state to pass judgement, having only recently given birth. At that point she’d been sucked in by the big, clean kitchen, the stretch of lawn, the safe, secure feel of the place. She’d been too tired to traipse around any more houses with the babes mewling in the double buggy. ‘OK,’ she’d said, without any real conviction. ‘Let’s buy it.’

  Sometimes she wondered if it had been the right choice. However hard she and Pete had tried to imprint their own style on the house, with their soft furnishings and painted walls, it still looked like a box to her, with its square rooms and boring brick frontage. She wouldn’t choose it if they were house-hunting now. No way.

  But hey. It was only brick walls and a roof. It didn’t matter that much, at the end of the day. And Pete still loved living there, so …

  The train wheezed into the station, and she felt her heart step up a beat. She was really here, in London, on her own. Her phone bleeped and she grabbed it quickly. A text from Nell.

  Can’t w8 2 c u babe. Am here, Ks X. Where r u?

  Josie grinned. No time to reply. She was here too, and Nell could see that for herself in a few minutes. She stood up as the train rattled to a stop and waited impatiently for the automatic doors to hiss open. Come on, come on!

  Sssssssssssssssssss!

  She was released from the smelly carriage, and jumped down on to the platform. ‘Hello,’ she said to the city under her breath. ‘I’m back.’

  They’d arranged to meet outside WH Smith in the station, where half the population of London seemed to be hanging out too. A wild-haired woman with a tatty blue sleeping bag around her shoulders was asking for money, one hand outstretched. A gaggle of Japanese girls were poring over an A–Z, all talking at once. A manic-eyed lad leaned against a pillar staring at his own hands as if they were newly sprouted from his wrists.

  Josie scanned the crowd for Nell’s blond curls. And then …

  ‘Hey! Over here! Josie!’

  She spun around at the sound of her name and there was Nell hurrying towards her, Nell with the same wide grin and sparkly blue eyes, her hair in a new jagged urchin crop, but still as slim as ever – God, she looked fit! – in a dark denim skirt and biker boots, assorted beads slung around her neck and fuchsia feather earrings. She also had on a pink coat. A much nicer one than Josie’s – shorter and brighter and louder. Josie’s coat looked the pale insipid relative next to it.

  All these thoughts whirled around Josie’s head as she rushed into her friend’s arms. Nell might not feel the same to hug – no bobbing curls going ticklingly up the nose any more – but she still wore the same perfume, and Josie breathed it in as if she were hungry. It was a smell of friendship and good times.

  Then they were standing apart and looking at each other, grinning like fools. ‘God, you look great,’ Josie blurted out, trying to keep the envy from her voice. ‘I love your hair – it’s so funky! I almost didn’t recognize you!’

  ‘Cheers – it was a bit of an impulse chop,’ Nell replied. ‘I don’t recognize myself any more either.’ She grabbed Josie’s hands and squeezed them. ‘Oh Josie, I am so excited about t
his weekend,’ she cried. ‘I can’t believe we’re back together in King’s Cross like this. You’re a star to have sorted everything out. We’ve left it too long, haven’t we?’

  ‘Too, too long,’ Josie agreed, unable to stop smiling. ‘And here we are, in our pink coats – yours is much nicer, of course – and—’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Nell said affectionately, giving her a nudge. It’s not a competition. Yours looks much posher than mine. I bet yours didn’t come from the Oxfam shop either. Now – where’s that Lisa-Lou? Eyes peeled for the old city slicker …’

  Josie laughed. Suddenly the coat didn’t matter. So what? Actually, it gave her a feeling of solidarity. Sisters, comrades, put on your pink coats and they shall know us … She and Nell had always swapped clothes, back in the flat-sharing days. Although tonight … Josie sneaked another quick glance at her friend’s slender limbs. No. There was absolutely no way on earth she’d be able to fit into anything of Nell’s any more. Not unless Lisa had a liposuction machine at her place that Josie could borrow, anyway.

  ‘There she is!’ Nell said just then, and Josie stared into the distance, following her friend’s pointing finger. ‘God, look at her! The glamour-puss!’

  Josie’s eyes widened in surprise as she clocked the confident, sassy woman who was approaching them, waving and smiling. Lisa’s long dark hair now had gorgeous plum-coloured highlights blended in, and fell in shining waves around her shoulders. Her skin looked sun-kissed, with just a hint of eye make-up and dark lipstick. And she was the picture of classy chic in her camel-coloured suede jacket, fitted at the waist, her plain white T-shirt, dark jeans and wedge-heeled sandals.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Josie said, trying not to gawp. Lisa looked sensational. There was no other way to describe it. She seemed so groomed and polished, Josie half expected to see an army of personal stylists slinking back to their headquarters behind her, high-fiving each other and saying, ‘Good job!’ at their work.