Love Nest

by Julia Llewellyn

  She’d considered looking for another job, but newspapers were sacking everybody right now, so Karen decided it was best to hold tight and restrain her sense of déjà vu at the sight of yet another article about working mothers, depicted by a harassed woman in a Versace skirt suit with phone at her ear and baby on her hip, the vomit and poo-stains and elasticated waists that made up Karen’s experience airbrushed away.

  But even though Karen knew her job wasn’t exactly contributing to the sum of human wisdom, she still loved it. Loved the challenge of getting the supplement – however frothy – together every week, of having a team around her who made her laugh far more than her husband did. It gave her a sense of control, control that was lacking in every other department of her life.

  ‘Karen?’ said a voice above her head.

  It was a man. Early thirties. Tall. Fair, quite long hair. A pale, thin face. Elegant pin-stripe suit.

  ‘Max!’

  ‘How are you?’ they exclaimed at the same time, then laughed awkwardly. ‘I was planning to look you up,’ he continued. ‘But now here you are.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’ve just started on the Daily Post as a news reporter. Replaced Toby Maitland. Today’s my first day. I still haven’t got a clue where the loos are.’ He grinned. ‘Might get embarrassing.’

  ‘I had no idea. I mean… I can tell you where the loos are, but that you were joining…’ She turned to Sophie, who was looking quizzical. ‘This is Max Bennett. I used to know his older brother, Jeremy. Max, this is my colleague Sophie Matthewson. I’m deputy editor of All Woman! now,’ she explained.

  ‘I know. I’ve been following your career, like a stalker.’ He and Sophie nodded hellos. ‘Do you want to join us?’ she suggested.

  Max sat down, plonking a bottle of water and a sandwich on the Formica. ‘So, Karen. What’s the news? Last time I saw you I still had all my own hair and teeth. You look great though, you haven’t changed a bit.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ Karen rolled her eyes. ‘How old are you now? Twenty-four?’

  ‘A bit older than that,’ he grinned.

  ‘Married?’

  ‘No.’ A short pause. ‘Jeremy is, though. Or rather was. He’s divorced. I’m sure you knew that. Has three sproglets and lives in Barnet. Good grammar schools, apparently.’

  ‘Right,’ Karen said. The memory of Jeremy wasn’t altogether a happy one – they’d had a six-monthish or so fling when they both worked at the Sentinel before he’d made the ‘I can’t commit’ speech. About a fortnight later, he’d been engaged – presumably to his babymother. Karen hadn’t truthfully been madly in love with him; she’d been seduced by his good looks – very similar to Max’s, only a bit fleshier – and his pukka background, so different from her own. But it had still been deeply humiliating.

  ‘How about you, Karen?’

  ‘Me? Oh, I’m married, yes. Got two girls.’

  ‘Right.’ He turned to Sophie with a smile. Everyone fancied Sophie, with her curvaceous body and perfect teeth. ‘So what about you? Any kids?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Sophie pointed at a tiny, yet definite bump. ‘But soon.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ Max blanched, a little uncomfortable. ‘Congratulations.’

  Sophie filled Max in on every detail of her pregnancy. Karen watched his polite nods with amusement. Max Bennett. Last time she’d seen him he must have been around twenty, spending his uni holidays with his parents in their lovely rambling house in Highgate. He’d had a rather silly Liam Gallagher goatee but he’d seemed amiable enough, much more laid back than Jeremy, who was always in a state because someone had stolen his byline. He’d lost the goatee now, in fact he’d grown into a rather handsome man.

  Karen was bludgeoned with a sudden sadness. She’d been so young then, so hopeful. She’d come through so much and had entered into what – in hindsight – was a golden age of freedom. But instead of enjoying it, she’d wasted it worrying she was never going to marry and have babies, never imagining that a husband and family might not lead to a happy ending, but instead to the start of a whole new set of problems. Then she’d been a babe, now she was an office has-been; stuck in a respectable but unexciting gulag, permanently exhausted, considering Botox, unhealthily fixated on school league tables.

  She stood up. ‘Sorry, but I need to get back to work. Max, see you around some time, eh? We’ll have lunch.’

  ‘Definitely,’ he smiled at her. She smiled back. But as she edited an article on ‘Great Investment Buys’ (Karen knew at heart that a £50 lipstick wasn’t really an investment, but that was what kept the advertisers sweet), she felt oddly uneasy. And that unease accompanied her home on the train and through supper of Quorn veggie bake, as it called up memories of the happy, free person she used to be.

  15

  The same morning, Bridget and Gemma were standing outside the Parenthope Clinic hugging themselves in the chilly breeze. After a sleepless night waiting for Dervla’s verdict, the clinic had called to say they were satisfied the Meehans had made a mature and well-thought-out decision and the egg donation could take place.

  So this morning the sisters had returned to meet Donna, the impossibly tall, blonde nurse, who gave them both a special nasal spray to harmonize their cycles, ensuring Bridget’s eggs were at their best just when Gemma’s womb was in optimal condition to receive them.

  Now, on the pavement, Bridget jumped up and down.

  ‘Yay! Finally it’s legal to inhale.’

  Gemma refused to rise to the bait.

  ‘Fancy a coffee? Or a herbal tea?’ Bridget asked.

  ‘Well, I…’

  ‘Actually, it’s not a question. It’s an order. I’ve got someone waiting for us. Someone I really want you to meet.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The barista? Remember him? Because it’s all happening. We’re in love!’

  A Filipina nanny holding an angelic blonde girl’s hand stopped and stared at them. Bridget started waving.

  ‘Hey, look, there he is! Massy, darling. Hey. Stay there!’

  The man on the other side of the road raised a hand as he stepped out into the traffic. He had short, stubby fair hair and wore a navy parka. Gemma was taken aback. He seemed astonishingly clean-cut for Bridget: most of her boyfriends had dreadlocks and tattooed pierced faces.

  ‘Heeeey!’ cried Bridget as he arrived safely on their piece of pavement. She hugged him. ‘Isn’t this great?’

  Gemma held out her hand. ‘Hello, I’m Gemma.’

  A warm hand grasped hers. ‘Massimo.’ She’d been expecting an Italian accent but this was pure Larn-don Town. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He had piercing blue eyes, far more alert than Bridget’s usual stoners. Gemma was reminded of the pictures of Jesus in her children’s Bible.

  ‘Shall we go for a coffee?’ Bridget asked, slipping her hand into Massimo’s. Gemma cringed. Wasn’t she a bit too keen?

  ‘So long as it’s not Costa,’ Massy said. ‘Shithole.’

  ‘How long have you been working there?’ Gemma asked politely.

  ‘About eighteen months. Before that I worked in my dad’s coffee bar in Alperton, but the rents kept going up and business was dying, so he had to close it.’

  ‘Oh. That’s tough.’

  ‘Yeah. It was. He came over from Italy when he was nineteen, he put everything into the business and now he’s sixty-seven and he’s got… basically nothing. A state pension.’

  ‘Massy’s parents are amazing,’ Bridget interrupted. ‘They’re so friendly and welcoming and his mum’s the best cook. She made these meatballs in a spicy sauce that you just have to try.’

  ‘I thought you were vegetarian.’

  ‘Oh Gems, that’s old news. I’ve eaten meat for ages. It’s the healthiest thing to have as rounded a diet as possible.’

  Gemma remembered the row last time Bridget had come out for dinner with her and Alex. He’d ordered a steak, triggering a lecture about how beef clogged up the large intestine an
d cow’s farts were destroying the ozone layer. After that Alex had announced he was never sharing a meal with his sister-in-law again. But love was a powerful force. In its path, Bridget’s colon, let alone the future of the planet, was irrelevant.

  ‘Massy’s family really know what’s important,’ Bridget yabbered on, as they pushed their way through the door of a chintzy-looking establishment. ‘Like… family. They treat me like their own daughter. Asked me to move in with them.’

  ‘I still live with them,’ Massy explained, with an embarrassed shrug.

  ‘But instead we’ve decided to look for a place of our own,’ Bridget said, seizing his hand. Gemma felt her buttocks tingling. ‘It won’t be anything special – just a studio, but it’ll be ours, won’t it, sweets?’

  ‘It will,’ he smiled. ‘Just got to go and… you know.’

  ‘So what do you think?’ Bridget hissed. ‘Isn’t he great?’

  ‘Yeah. He seems really nice.’ Gemma hesitated. ‘Isn’t it just a little bit soon to be moving in together, though?’

  Bridget ignored her. ‘I just didn’t think of myself as the kind of girl who finds a boyfriend. I thought those kind of things only happened to you. It’s all… it’s amazing. I mean, you wouldn’t have thought someone so special would be interested in someone like me. But something just clicked between us. Like destiny.’

  ‘I’m really happy for you,’ Gemma said. And she was. But she also felt weirdly off balance, as if she’d performed a dance step wrong.

  ‘Have you told him about… you know… what you’re doing for us?’

  ‘Mmm. He says it’s wonderful. Says the fact I’m prepared to help you like this is one of the reasons he’s fallen in love with me. Made him realize what a generous person I am. Doing this for nothing. But love.’ Bridget paused and then said, ‘Though I did wonder this morning. Should I tell the clinic?’

  ‘Tell the clinic what?’

  ‘Well, that I’ve got a… partner now.’

  Panic clutched at Gemma’s chest. Her life was like a video game – as soon as she’d slayed one gremlin another three popped up. Suppose the introduction of Massy meant they had to go through the counselling again?

  ‘He’s not exactly your partner, is he? I mean, you’ve only been seeing him a few weeks.’ Massimo was returning. She continued rapidly, ‘I don’t see the need to tell them unless you do. It would just be a hassle, wouldn’t it? And you being with Massimo’s not going to change anything, is it?’

  ‘Talking about me?’ Massimo said, sitting down.

  ‘Yeah, just saying how supportive you’re being of my egg donating.’

  Gemma’s heart thudded, but he smiled. ‘I think it’s an incredible thing to do. But that’s my Bridget. Always thinking of others.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Gemma and then, ‘Oh, excuse me,’ as her phone rang in her pocket. ‘Hello?’ she said, pulling it out.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Meehan. It’s Lucinda here. How are you?’

  ‘I’m well,’ Gemma said cautiously, because Lucinda’s tone was too breezy to be trusted.

  ‘Good, good. Just wondering if you’d decided what to tell Nick Crex.’

  ‘Alex is still making up his mind.’

  ‘I hate to hassle you but he’s expecting an answer soon.’

  ‘Well, he can wait. He keeps messing us around. If he doesn’t want it, he can go elsewhere.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Meehan. I know how frustrating this must be.’

  ‘I’m sure you do,’ Gemma snapped, hanging up.

  ‘Problems with the flat sale?’ Massy said. ‘Gemma’s told me about it.’

  ‘Yeah, the buyer’s reduced his offer again.’ She tried to smile.

  Bridget snorted. ‘But you’ll still be getting some extortionate price for it, Gems. I mean, it’s a crime really. They say property prices have fallen but Massy and I can’t even afford a box.’

  You might be able to if you had a job, Gemma thought, but instead she said, ‘Yes, well, property in London is so overpriced, even now when the market’s supposedly on its knees. Everything costs far, far more than it ought.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s tough,’ Massimo said, but seemingly without self-pity. ‘Gemma says your pad’s amazing. Two bathrooms just for the two of you.’ He whistled. ‘You’re lucky. And this IVF business is costing you a fortune, isn’t it?’

  Gemma squirmed, as she always did when money was mentioned. ‘Yes, but it’s worth it. I mean, what price a child? You can’t start bean-counting when something so important is concerned.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He stood up. ‘Babe, sorry to be a party pooper but I’ve got to get going. Someone to meet.’ He held out a hand to Gemma. ‘Very nice to meet you, Gemma. See you again, soon, yeah?’

  ‘I hope so.’ Gemma meant it. After all, he seemed perfectly amiable.

  Bridget flung her arms around her. ‘Aren’t I the luckiest woman in the world?’ A sloppy kiss landed on Gemma’s cheek. ‘I’ll see you soon, babe. Start the sniffing tonight. Hey, Massy, I’ve got to show you this inhaler thing the clinic’s given me. It’s wild. Gems, I’ll call you. We should all four of us go out some time.’

  ‘Great idea,’ said Gemma. She watched them walk off, arm in arm. She still felt disoriented. To her horror, she realized it was because Bridget suddenly seemed so together. Wasn’t that her role?

  Gemma shook her head. She was a disgusting, warped person. This baby-making was doing horrible things to her. Please God, let the egg donation work. Because she needed a child. Needed to be fixed.

  After the film (which was just as bad as the reviews had promised), Lucinda and Cass sat in a bar on the King’s Road working out how to remedy the situation.

  ‘Call him and say you’re ill,’ Cass exclaimed, as if she’d just solved the world energy crisis.

  ‘But he might see me round and about. Or drop into the agency. Anyway, he’d just make the date for another night. I know the type. He’s persistent.’

  Cass giggled. ‘Why don’t you go wearing one of those peel-off face masks? And halfway through dinner start fiddling with it and slowly peel it off and plonk it on your side plate.’

  ‘Yeeurch!’ They chortled, but Lucinda said, ‘I can’t.’

  ‘It would put him off you.’

  ‘It would also put everyone in the restaurant off their food.’

  ‘Pick your nose throughout the meal, burp loudly, try and squeeze out a fart.’

  ‘Cass!’

  ‘Well, you want him not to like you.’

  ‘I don’t want him to dislike me. And he works with so many people I know. I can’t have it going round that I burp in the middle of my meals.’ It was the usual thing: Lucinda’s vanity. She didn’t like everyone, but she wanted everyone to like her.

  ‘Well, you’re just going to have to go, then. And be very boring. And if, after that, he asks you out again because he doesn’t care what you have to say anyway, he just wants to get in your pants, then tell him you have a boyfriend.’

  ‘But anyone can tell him I don’t.’

  ‘Then just tell him you want to be single for now or whatever. He’s not going to destroy your career, he just wants a quick slap and tickle and when he realizes he’s not going to get it, he’ll go elsewhere. He’s a multi-millionaire, isn’t he? Women must be fighting over him.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Lucinda said. She couldn’t admit that just a tiny bit of her was flattered by this attention. Anton Beleek might be a freak but he was also a powerful and rich man. And he liked her. A voice in the back of Lucinda’s head whispered that a shrink would have a field day with the daughter of a powerful, rich man wanting to attract the attentions of another powerful, rich man, but she pushed that to the back of some dusty mental top shelf, the same place where she’d stored the fact that Anton had only realized she existed because she’d sent him a stupid Valentine in a moment of pique.

  ‘I’ve got something to tell you,’ Cass said coyly, interrupting her thoughts.

 
‘Oh yes?’

  From her expression you’d have thought she’d cured cancer and discovered why one sock never returns from a wash. ‘I’m back with Tim!’

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ Cass said happily.

  ‘Sorry. I’m just… surprised, that’s all.’

  She was immediately defensive. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, last week you said he was a loser and a cuntbag.’

  ‘Did I? Oh well, yes, maybe I did. But… you know, he called me last night and we had a really good chat and he explained how much pressure he’d been under at work and then he asked if he could come over and…’ She shrugged. ‘I really love him, Luce. I’ve got to give him a second chance. I mean, we all make mistakes.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘You look pissed off.’

  ‘What, me? No! I’m not pissed off. Just a little… tired. A lot on at work. We should be going.’

  ‘OK,’ Cass said extremely eagerly. Lucinda looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘Are you meeting Tim tonight?’

  ‘Well… he did say he might come over. If I got home early enough. By the way, that reminds me. You know we were going to go to Brighton this weekend? Do you mind if we go some other time? Only Tim said he’d take me away somewhere. To make things up to me. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Of course I bloody do. Lucinda smiled tightly and said, ‘That’s cool.’

  ‘I knew you’d understand. Thanks, Luce.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Grace was sitting at the kitchen table, a half-eaten packet of Jaffa Cakes in front of her, frowning as she scanned a jobs site on her computer. She knew she had to find work, but it was so confusing. The obvious career for her would be teaching, but the vision of standing up in front of a class, teaching a dead language nobody cared about, made her dizzy with fear. She’d investigate some other prospects first.