by Tracy Bloom
NO-ONE EVER HAS SEX
IN THE
SUBURBS
BY
TRACY BLOOM
No-One Ever Has Sex in the Suburbs © Tracy Bloom 2015
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical (including but not limited to: the internet, photocopying, recoding or by any information storage and retrieval system), without prior permission in writing from the author and/or publisher.
The moral right of Tracy Bloom as the author of the work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely co-incidental.
For the people and parties of Loughborough Road. The absolute best of times . . . in the suburbs.
Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Epilogue
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
PROLOGUE
September – Leeds General Maternity Ward
Ben took her hand and looked her straight in the eye. ‘I love you, I always have.’
‘I love you too, you know,’ Katy replied.
‘You don’t have to say that just because I did.’
‘No, I do, I really do, and I will marry you – if you meant it, that is.’
‘Of course I meant it. But I do have one condition.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Katy, fearing the worst.
‘That we never become one of those boring married couples. You know, like the ones who sit in pubs and don’t talk to each other and probably never have sex.’
‘I promise,’ said Katy, knowing that life with Ben could never be boring. ‘Tell you what. We’ll even have sex on a Tuesday.’
Chapter One
Six weeks later
‘You have to be kidding me?’ gasped Katy, overwhelmed by the audacity of the man.
‘No,’ he replied gravely. ‘We really need to discuss contraception.’
‘Contraception!’ she screeched.
He looked nervously at the door as though concerned that the people gathered outside might hear her outrage.
‘Contraception!’ she screeched again. ‘Are you out of your mind? How can you even mention it?’
‘I can assure you, it’s a very routine question.’
‘I–do–not–need–contraception,’ Katy stated.
‘I see, but—’
‘I am certain of that,’ she interrupted, ‘because I currently have cabbage leaves stuffed down my bra. Can you imagine a more effective passion killer than breasts that smell like a compost heap and are prone to leakage?’
The doctor turned back to his computer screen, showing little reaction to what Katy thought was a reasonable question. He started tapping something into his keyboard. ‘I can give you antibiotics if you are suffering from mastitis,’ he muttered, staring intently at the screen.
‘And,’ she continued, feeling the need to further justify her absolute rejection of the mention of contraception just six weeks after she had given birth. ‘And, I’ve had eighteen stitches in my vagina.’ She folded her arms and leaned back, feeling smug. Now see if he dared raise the subject of contraception again. My, she’d come a long way since she’d given birth a few weeks ago. She never would have would have used the V-word with anyone – including a doctor – before. Her dignity, however, had been left on the labour room floor and she no longer felt any compulsion to keep her vagina and its injuries to herself.
The doctor appeared unfazed by her declaration. ‘I need to make you aware,’ he said, ‘that just because you’ve recently had a baby, it doesn’t mean you can’t get pregnant if you have unprotected sex.’
‘And when exactly do you imagine this unprotected sex will be occurring?’ she asked. ‘Would that be at night when our daughter chooses to celebrate the dawning of a new day in the southern hemisphere by refusing to go to sleep, or would that be during the day when my fiancé is at work and I’m exhausting myself by trying to keep her awake to convince her that Greenwich Mean Time is the way to go?’
The doctor looked at her as he must have looked at a thousand first-time mums.
‘It will get better,’ he said calmly.
‘Or maybe,’ she continued, ‘I’ll be in the mood just at that point when I haven’t been near a shower in days, I’m reduced to using Sudacrem to style my hair and Millie has just projectile pooed all over me.’
The doctor held her accusing stare. ‘I understand,’ he said gently.
‘Do you?’ she cried. ‘The fact you have four kids would indicate to me that you do not understand in the slightest.’ She nodded at the framed photo of the doctor surrounded by his wife and tribe of sons, sitting behind him on the window ledge. ‘You’ve put some poor woman through this four times. You clearly have no idea.’
Katy leaned back in her chair and tried to control her rapid breathing. She was in no mood to have her love life interrogated. To be perfectly honest, sex was the last thing on her mind since the hand grenade of a new baby had landed in their lives. However, she had to admit it was bothering her that it also appeared to be the last thing on Ben’s mind. She was very aware that he’d made no move whatsoever to instigate lovemaking since their new arrival. Previously a post-pub snog would easily fall into a happy tumble on the sofa or under the sheets, and Ben had even been known to set his alarm in order to sneak in some early morning passion before work. But now they were a total sex-free zone. She hoped it was down to Ben being considerate and as overwhelmed by everything as she was, but what really chewed at her was that they actually hadn’t made love since Ben had discovered she’d had sex with Matthew. Maybe he hadn’t totally forgiven her after all for her stupid one-night stand with her childhood sweetheart. She certainly hadn’t forgiven herself, and she doubted she ever would. But he’d still asked her to marry him, hadn’t he? Said he loved her when he’d returned, just in the nick of time, to the delivery room, not only to forgive, but also to propose.
Their engagement had lasted for a whole four hours and twenty-three minutes before they became parents. Their relationship barely mended, healing time had taken a back seat to baby demands, and their promise of betrothal had got lost somewhere in a sea of tiredness and Pampers. Any desire to consummate Ben’s proposal was crushed by the need for a moment’s peace, or worse, as Katy feared, by unresolved resentment t
hat she’d fucked everything up by shagging her ex. Either way, being interrogated by the doctor on this sensitive subject was not going down well.
‘I see you haven’t had a smear test for over three years.’ The doctor looked at her over his glasses. ‘You really need one soon.’
Katy stared back at him. Could he really be that insensitive?
‘I have two words for you,’ she said. ‘Eighteen. Stitches.’
‘I’ll make sure you’re sent a reminder in three months,’ he replied, typing again. ‘Now, let me ask, how are you feeling?’ he said, changing the expression on his face from slightly frustrated to a mock caring one.
‘Fine,’ she muttered, worried it was some kind of trick question.
‘Have you felt down at all since giving birth? Have there been any times when you’ve had a sense of hopelessness, like you couldn’t cope?’
‘Hourly,’ she replied deadpan, then laughed nervously. She thought of the chaos she’d left her designer flat in that morning. Before the baby she couldn’t bear to leave the place in a state, as she loved the calm feeling of arriving home to its tidy perfection. Now she woke up surrounded by chaos, lived in chaos, shut the door on chaos, arrived home to chaos. She thought of the hanging files in her old office at the advertising agency. An account director must always appear in control, and her alphabetical, colour-coded files were the bedrock of a system that allowed her to organise with a ruthless efficiency renowned throughout the agency. She had no system for the baby. She just couldn’t find the system, however hard she tried.
‘Are you often tearful, or emotional for no obvious reason?’ the doctor continued.
Katy thought about her reaction to having discovered there was no coffee in the house that morning. Mild hysterics. Her response to the takeaway pizza arriving without extra mushrooms. Mass tantrum. News that Take That were going on tour again and all the tickets were sold out already. Literally floods of tears. She was constantly emotional and on the brink of falling apart. She wasn’t coping at all well with motherhood and she had no idea why. She was a smart, intelligent, successful woman who didn’t have a clue how to look after a baby. She felt like a failure, and that was something she just wasn’t used to.
‘I’m fine,’ she insisted,’ fighting the urge to burst into tears. ‘Everything is fine.’
‘Good, good,’ the doctor said, apparently satisfied with her answer. ‘And are you getting help from your partner with the baby?’
‘Oh yes,’ she nodded. He was outside now, looking after Millie in the waiting room. No doubt Millie would be gurgling at him happily as all the oldies told him how good he was with her. No-one ever told her that. Ben picked her up and she instantly calmed, mesmerised by his big blue eyes and shock of ginger hair. Katy picked her up and she looked disgusted at the imposition. Babies must be like dogs, she thought. They knew when you were scared. Millie had already worked out she was a rubbish mum, she just knew it. She could tell by the look on her face.
‘Her daddy is very good with her,’ she informed the doctor. ‘She really is a daddy’s girl.’ Her stomach clenched as she said the words. She still couldn’t bear to think about what she’d put Ben through regarding Millie’s parentage. The timing of her stupid one-night stand had proved potentially catastrophic when she’d realised it had coincided with when she’d conceived. Knowing there was even a tiny chance that Matthew could be the father of her child had led to months of anxiety until Millie appeared, sporting a shock of ginger hair identical to Ben’s as well as his cute, slightly turned-up nose, dispelling any doubt whatsoever that Ben was her father. He was in fact waiting outside with her now so they could all go to the registry office and get Millie’s birth registered. Katy had been avoiding it, dreading the awkwardness and recriminations might get raked over. But now she wished she’d got it over and done with straight away so they could have moved on weeks ago. Still, it would all be done today, and once they’d completed that task then she really should get around to having sex with Ben. She realised that they needed to have sex. Soon. Perhaps when they were both less tired.
Chapter Two
Leeds Registry Office had the look of a building more suited to registering the misery of death than the joy of a new life, with its looming, grimy stone walls and double-height doors guarded by iron gates. Ben bounded up the endless steps at the entrance with all the ease of a twenty-nine-year-old who spent his days tearing around a school sports field with teenagers. Katy meanwhile took it more slowly, feeling every one of her extra eight years on Ben as well as her lack of gym attendance since pregnancy, which had given her the welcome excuse to end her membership. Ben waited at the top of the steps, swinging Millie in her car seat like it was a ride at the funfair until Katy reached him. He put Millie down and started punching the air.
‘What are you doing?’ asked Katy.
‘Pretending I’m Rocky,’ Ben grinned. ‘It’s impossible to come up a massive set of steps like that and not sing the theme tune to Rocky and then do this at the top.’
‘Even Millie is looking at you as though you are deranged,’ Katy pointed out.
‘The minute she’s old enough I’ll be sharing the joys of Rocky with the Millster and I will bring her to these very steps, and we shall sing and run and pretend-fight together, and she will understand that it is the right thing to do whenever you see a long set of stone steps.’
‘So glad you have her education close to your heart, Ben,’ Katy said dryly.
‘Important life lessons, Katy. What to do on seeing a large flight of stone steps and how to handle the utter depression of being a Leeds United fan. These things are all on my essential list of teachings for Millie.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ smiled Katy. And she was. She stepped forward to kiss him on the cheek. It was at moments like this that she knew exactly why Ben was the perfect man for her. Whatever crap was going on in her life, whatever inner turmoil she was feeling, it was Ben who reminded her not to take life so seriously. To have fun. She sincerely hoped it was a trait Millie would inherit from her father.
He held her gaze for a moment as she pulled away.
‘You ready for this?’ he asked, looking serious for a moment.
‘Oh yes,’ she replied. She held her breath, fearful that Ben might say something to remind her how lucky she was that he was standing there at all, given what had happened. But he said nothing, just looked at her with his big grin and twinkly eyes, then wrapped her in his arms in a hug so generous and committed that it brought tears of joy to her eyes.
‘Right,’ he said when he finally released her and bent to pick up Millie in her car seat. ‘Shall we go and agree to keep her then? I’ve got used to her now, and I don’t think you can get a refund after twenty-eight days.’
A council worker in polyester and NHS glasses directed them to a waiting room lined with worn-looking chairs and worn-looking people. Clearly it was an exhausting business being related to the newly born or the newly dead. There was no hint of tiredness, however, on the faces of the two girls in their late teens who were sitting right opposite the entrance. One of them leapt out of her seat and flung herself at Katy the minute she walked in, her mass of blonde hair smothering Katy’s face.
‘Oh my God, look who it is!’ she screeched. She was gripping Katy so tightly that she thought her breasts might explode, whilst her spiky false nails cut into her arms.
‘Hi, Charlene,’ she said, once she’d been allowed to come up for air.
Charlene bounced up and down in front of Katy with excitement.
‘Wow, Ben!’ she shrieked, catching sight of him behind Katy. ‘This is brilliant. It’s like a reunion. Abby, look,’ she said, turning to the girl she was with, who was openly staring at Ben through make-up of the shovel variety and over the top of a cleavage that was demanding attention like an emerging new talent. ‘It’s Katy and Ben from our antenatal class. Remember? They came to our wedding party. Ben was the guy who knocked out that bloke in the middle of the dance
floor.’
Abby stood up from her chair and took a step forward, still openly gaping at Ben.
‘Oh, I remember,’ she said, looking him up and down very slowly.
‘How’s Luke?’ Ben asked Charlene, trying to draw his eyes away from Abby’s cleavage but failing.
‘Fine,’ replied Charlene. ‘He’s at work, so Abby said she’d come with me to get Rocco registered. Can you believe it? No-one told us we had to come and register him ourselves, did they? We thought the hospital sent a form or something, and we were in the pub the other night, weren’t we, Abby, and I was telling this bloke who was trying to chat me up to get lost because I had a baby and he wouldn’t believe me. Anyway, he thought I was messing with him and asked if I had his birth certificate to prove it and I suddenly went, fuck me, didn’t I, Abby? Fuck me, we haven’t got Rocco a birth certificate. So as I said to Luke when I got home, it’s a bloody good job that that bloke tried to chat me up or else baby Rocco might not exist.’
Katy stared at Charlene, open-mouthed, before saying feebly, ‘We just never seemed to have had the time before now.’
‘Is that why you haven’t come along when the antenatal class meets up, then?’ demanded Charlene.
‘Er . . . yeah,’ Katy replied, looking over at Ben, who raised his eyebrows. He took an empty seat next to where Charlene had been sitting and began to get Millie out of her car seat. ‘Just been too busy,’ she said to Charlene. ‘You know how it is.’
‘You not coping?’ asked Charlene. ‘Because we’re all in it together, you know. You should come along. And you should see Alison and Matthew’s house. It’s amaaaaaaaazing.’
Nooooooo, Katy wanted to scream. The last place she wanted to hear Matthew’s name mentioned was here. Not now, just as they were about to officially declare that Ben was Millie’s dad. Neither Ben nor Katy had let his name pass their lips since Ben had proposed. It had been such a ridiculous piece of bad luck that they’d ended up in the same antenatal class as Matthew and his pregnant wife Alison. Traumatised, Katy had realised she could no longer avoid the niggling doubt that Matthew could be the father of her unborn child. Secret meetings between the two of them had led to an agreement to ignore the slim possibility. But then it had all started to unravel when Ben had twigged that Katy and Matthew had been childhood sweethearts.
