by Annie Dyer
Marie: I’m heading to Seph’s first. Probably for breakfast. I’m pretty sure there will be a pile of shirts to iron.
I looked at the time. She’d sent that two hours ago, which meant she’d be here around nine.
Claire: You might have to iron out whatever Shay took home with him last night. Immy said he went home with a girl.
Marie: Nothing I haven’t done before. They’re more embarrassed than me. I’ve had more than enough practice turfing out young ladies from my sons’ bedrooms, haven’t I, Maxwell?
Maxwell: Can we remember Victoria reads these messages?
Claire: I know based on your first performance she would’ve thought you were a virgin, but she must’ve realised by now that it was just because you lack skills.
Maxwell: Have you ever discussed my skills in bed with Victoria, Claire?
Claire: Yes. She said you’d just about managed to find her clitoris on one occasion.
Maxwell: Bullshit.
Callum: Popcorn time.
Claire: Honestly, maybe you need to see a sex therapist. There’s clearly some massive issue, and if you don’t get it sorted…
Maxwell: There’s only one massive issue – the one between my legs.
Victoria: Really? We’re descending to this level on a Sunday morning? When will you learn that this is sport for Claire, husband-mine?
Victoria: Van, do you want us to have Teddy over night? I’m not in work tomorrow.
Vanessa: That means I can have alcohol this afternoon. Yes please.
Claire: I’ve just expressed so I can drink too.
Jackson: Sunday lunch just became less inviting.
Marie: Sunday lunch isn’t an option. The restaurant is booked. It’s bottomless on food and prosecco as requested and your father is paying.
Claire: I’ll be asleep after two glasses, so you’re safe, Max.
Killian: He’s never safe, babe. He knows this by now.
Claire: Babe? Where the fuck did that come from?
Killian: I was being affectionate.
Claire: Well don’t do that. I’ve only just given birth.
Jackson: Do you think you need to take this to a more private place, Claire and K?
Callum: This is providing a lot of entertainment. Where’s Seph, btw? Why’s he not complaining about being woken up yet?
Ava: He’s probably remembered to set his phone to night mode till a reasonable time. Unlike some. Eli wants to know what time you’re meeting for warm up?
Jackson: Seph’ll be there five minutes after he’s caught up if he knows Marie’s heading round.
I was fully caught up by now. The shower had stopped and the radio was blaring from the kitchen. At some point, Shay would start singing. At some point, I’d record him and send it to everyone I knew.
Seph: We said nine-thirty for warm up for those who can make it.
Ava: He lives.
Seph: I was in bed by midnight.
Ava: Who with?
Seph: Me and a good book.
Ava: So just Shay got lucky.
Seph: The question is, did the girl Shay was with get lucky? This lack of clitoral knowledge could be a genetic defect that Max and Shay share. I slept very well and wasn’t woken, so I have no idea whether either of them got lucky. She could’ve just slept over.
Callum: This is Shay we’re talking about. Shay. Shay doesn’t have girl friends or girlfriends. He’s incapable of a platonic friendship with a female.
Seph: Callum, I get why Jackson, Claire, Van were all up early – children. Vic’s up early because she’s probably craving something weird and Mum’s up early because she always is.
Marie: Because having children fucks up your internal alarm clock. I was never the same after Max started Sunday swimming lessons at eight in the morning and demanded a full breakfast beforehand.
Seph: Aside from that, why are YOU up, Callum?
Callum: A mare’s in labour and I’m anticipating difficulties. I’ve been up all night.
Marie: Where’s Wren?
Callum: Getting some sleep. She’s been up too. I’ve said I’ll phone her if I need her, which I might shortly. Looks like things are moving so I’ll hopefully be spamming your feed with foal pictures in a couple of hours.
Claire: Cute. Eliza will love them.
Maxwell: Cal, can you play rugby next weekend? We’ve a game against Beeston Solicitors.
Claire: He has more important things to do, like save animals, Max.
Marie: Joseph, I’ll be round in half an hour. Just seeing to your dad.
Jackson: No. You did not just put that.
Marie: Put what?
Ava: That you’re ‘seeing to Dad’.
Marie: I meant I was seeing to him in terms of breakfast.
Jackson: Thank god for that. Jesus.
Marie: I saw to him like *that* earlier.
Jackson: Fuck.
Jackson: Where’s the bleach?
“Aunt Marie’s here!”
Shay’s bellow could pretty much wake the dead, even if the dead were down to bone and their ears had long since rotted.
“And I think the whole of the apartment now knows that.” I stepped out of my bedroom, Shay just about to open the door.
“She deserves a loud announcement.”
The door opened and my mother walked in, wearing something that was probably designer and looking like she was about to broker some sort of deal.
“Shay!” Her arms wrapped his. “You’ve lost weight. You need to eat more.”
“And so says every Irish mother.” He patted her on the back and kissed her cheek, stooping to do so. “I’m eating just fine.”
“It’s how he’s burning it that’s the problem.” I made sure I was loud enough for her to hear me, but not the neighbours. Not that they didn’t know what Shay was like: they heard his ‘friends’ enough.
“You work too hard.” She tapped his face, a little too hard which I was pleased to see. “I thought I’d come and sort some stuff out here. Your father, uncle, whoever he is at the moment, is meeting that dick David Hartford for brunch and I wanted to do something useful. Do you have any ironing?”
We both disappeared, each returning with a similarly screwed up pile of shirts.
She shook her head. “I know that by the time you’re showering, I’ll have cleaned the shower, vacuumed, ironed these and thrown out anything in your fridge that’s started its own colony of creatures. If either of you ever meet anyone who can put up with you for more than two nights, they won’t do this. They won’t be your mother or your aunt, because that would be rather… wrong.”
Shay hung his head.
I shook mine.
“We have a cleaner. And she irons when I ask her too.”
“Then you need to pay her more and have her come more frequently.” She held out her arms for Shay’s ironing. “Joseph, go and set up the ironing board for me and make me a cup of tea.”
I did as I was told, knowing better than to argue when she used that tone. I’d seen Jackson try it once and it didn’t end well.
“How’s work?” She began to sort through Shay’s shirts, turning her nose up when a tiny pair of knickers fell out.
I tried and failed not to laugh.
“That bloody boy. I swear he’s worse than the lot of you put together.”
“That’s because I’ve got more charm than all of them.” Shay breezed through, picked up the underwear and threw them in the bin in the corner of room.
I walked over to the kitchen counters. The apartment was decent sized, three bedrooms with two baths and an open plan kitchen-living area. I’d bought it to add to the portfolio I was accruing under my interior designer sister, Ava’s guidance. She managed it for me, meaning all I had to was stump up the capital and sign things.
“You’ve probably got more diseases than the rest of us,” I said, clicking on the kettle. “Who was back here last night?”
Shay shrugged. He still hadn’t put his top on, and
I’d noticed nail marks on his back.
“She was a friend of one of the nurses at the hospital.”
“And her name was?” Marie shook out another of his shirts, as if she expected another pair of knickers to fall out.
Shay shrugged. “Kellie? I think.”
“For fuck’s sake. Your mother would kill you if she knew this. Or have you in church saying a thousand Hail Mary’s.”
Knowing Shay’s mother, my Aunt Bridie, she’d have him saying double that.
I opted to say nothing, less my mother’s wrath fell on me.
“Why can’t either of you find a nice girl to go out with? Someone independent, who takes no messing, refuses to do your ironing and has a career of their own.” She’d already located the iron.
It was always safest to keep a decent distance when my mum had an iron in her hand. She’d never actually caused anyone any harm, but she had threatened to, brandishing it like a weapon, making whichever one of us was facing her wrath quiver in a corner.
Shay didn’t respond. I suspected he’d heard much the same thing from his mother on many occasions, just like I had.
Mum stretched the material out over the board. “You’re both in your thirties. Both successful with your careers. Neither of you are getting any younger. At some point you will want to settle down and all the women you’d be interested in then will already be with men who are far more sensible.” She carried on for another five minutes.
I made a pot of tea, letting it brew for long enough so she couldn’t complain about it being gnat’s piss, then slipped out of the room to get ready for rugby.
Somehow, getting charged at across a wet field was a lot more appealing than listening to my mum go through the list of suitable women she could set me or Shay up with.
Victory always tasted sweeter with a pint of IPA, a full stomach and a lack of injuries.
We’d won, no mean feat given the other team had kicked our arses both previous times we’d played them. Callum’s mare had given birth safely, so my third brother was ecstatic, and everyone – including Claire – was in a good mood. Apart from Shay, who was back on shift at the hospital.
Max sat down next to me, Victoria busy talking to Payton and Vanessa, while Claire and Killian were engaged in a very happy conversation near the bar. Killian’s brother, Nick, was also here, with his wife Katie and their three children, and some sort of creche had been arranged which my dad and Jackson were running – and that was perhaps all the entertainment we needed.
My parents had the sense to book out a room in the restaurant where we were, meaning we could be loud, the children didn’t have to be on their best behaviour and no one needed to worry about anyone overhearing anything that Claire said.
“You were on form today.”
The words of praise just dripped from Max’s lips.
I had played well. Two tries and several runs that would put Eli to shame. Eli, Ava’s fiancé, had almost been professional and this season, I was surprised he hadn’t made it. Despite not being far off forty, he was playing out of his skin. But today, I’d played better.
“Thanks.”
“It was good to see that you weren’t distracted by anything.”
I turned to stare at my brother. “I don’t have anything to distract me.”
Max turned away, a smirk starting to curve.
“What are you hinting at?”
He shook his head.
I resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground, because that would’ve meant spilling decent beer.
So I didn’t say anything, which I knew would smoke out whatever it was that he wanted to say.
Two, three minutes passed and I could feel him starting to twitch.
“Is there anything distracting you at work though?’
Finally, there we had it.
“The case with the Hartfords is going to distract me from having a life. But I get the feeling that’s not what you were fishing for.” I drained the rest of my glass.
“Not fishing for anything.”
“Bull shit, Maxwell.”
He laughed. “I saw you staring at Georgia.”
I shrugged. “She’s really attractive. I think most straight males in the building stared at her this week.” No point lying.
Max watched me. “Be careful.”
“Of what? I’m not interested in anything with anyone at the moment, Max. Especially not a colleague who shares my office, because that won’t go horribly wrong, will it?” I thought back to the texts between us this morning.
“I don’t know. She could do worse.” His eyes had softened. “She’s a really good girl, Seph. And I’ve seen you looking at her more than once.”
I stood up, done with this conversation. “I learned the hard way not to shit on your own doorstep.”
There was a better time to be had with my nieces and nephews.
Chapter Eight
Georgia
I’ll have you know my performance is always exceptional.
If there was a secret spy camera in my phone, they’d have been watching me stare at my screen a lot during Sunday, debating a response, typing at least two dozen and then deleting them, then wondering what the hell I’d sent in the first place.
I was distracted enough that I let Rose eat two bags of crisps without even realising it, and I’d completely forgot to pack her swimming kit this morning – Elspeth would’ve been taking her swimming after she’d picked her and Addy up from nursery.
I hadn’t meant what I’d sent to have an innuendo. I was teasing him about his job, because he was a perfectionist, and until his reply came through, I hadn’t thought about how it could sound until he’d texted back.
Was he flirting?
I toyed with the idea of showing it my sister, then decided not to. I’d told her I thought Seph was dating Amelie, so showing her messages from him that sounded flirty would make her instantly hate him.
I walked into our office and hung up my coat, the spread of papers from Friday exactly where I left them. The office was empty of only one thing: Seph.
Leaving my bag next to my desk, I headed back downstairs, hearing loud voices from the photocopying room. I’d only been here a week, but I knew that the relationship between Max and the photocopier was strained, and despite the ban on him using it, it still seemed to have a tantrum and go on strike whenever it had to copy Max’s paperwork.
“I’m not sure how you can blame me for this!” Seph’s voice rose, travelling down the corridor. “You just need to admit that you can’t use the photocopier without breaking it.”
“It’s nothing to do with me! Whenever I use it after you, the fucking thing doesn’t work! You do something to it just to piss me off!” His words ended with what sounded like a roar.
I hurried up into the photocopying room and saw the pair of them a little bit too close together. Max’s hand was clenched and Seph had a finger to Max’s chest.
I could stand back and watch. I doubted this would end up in any more than a couple of blows, and clearly those blows had been coming for some time, given the history Max had with the photocopier and his block on blaming himself, but I needed to go through some stuff with Seph this morning, and wouldn’t really have chance for him to go home and change his shirt, should he need to.
I sighed and stepped in. Weirdly, this wasn’t the first altercation I’d broken up next to a photocopier. Must be the vibrations they gave off.
“You, turn around and walk out.” I put my hand on Max’s chest and used my best angry-mum voice. “And you, wait there and we’re going for a coffee.” Caffeine was always the answer. Every time.
Neither of them shifted. I just left my hand on Max's chest and started to feel him relax.
There was no way they’d have a fight in front of me, of that I was pretty certain.
“Go.” I put a little bit more pressure in my finger tips and pushed Max a little harder.
“Gym. After work. Boxing ring.” Max pointed at Seph
as he stepped backwards.
“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Seph tried to step forward towards a retreating Max.
I stepped in front of him.
“No. We’re going for coffee. I need to start to improve your performance to an exceptional level.” The weight of not responding to his last text left my shoulders as soon as I said it and it flew away when I saw the smile that broke out across his face.
A smile that faded and something else took its place, something that made my nipples harden and warmth burn between my legs.
Seph’s eyes darkened and his jaw grew tight, as if he was clenching his teeth together. I wasn’t touching him now, I didn’t dare. I pulled my gaze away from his face, unable to hold his eyes any longer. I dropped it to his chest, his white shirt tight across it, biceps bulging through and then lower to his belt and below, below that…
I lifted my head quickly, my cheeks on fire. He’d just caught me properly eyeing him up like he was a piece of meat.
“Coffee,” he said. “We should get that coffee.”
I nodded, wondering if coffee would erase from his mind from how I’d just looked at him, and erase what had looked like a semi-hard dick print against his suit trousers from my brain.
“Coffee. Good idea.”
Amelie came straight over to us, her smile bright, her hair pink today. She was wearing jeans that showed off legs which made me want to cry with envy, She also had cheekbones that no amount of filler could ever create.
I cringed, knowing I’d been eyeing up the man who was possibly her boyfriend.
“Joseph! I’m sorry I couldn’t get there yesterday. I really had to start packing.” She stood on tiptoes and gave him a tiny peck on the cheek.
He shook his head. “I think you’re avoiding goodbyes.”
Goodbyes? What goodbyes?
She smiled and then looked at me. “He doesn’t get it. Me moving to Anglesey means he’ll be getting free weekend breaks away by the sea, away from all this madness.” She gestured to the outside where the pavements were crammed with commuters.
