‘How do I initiate it?’
‘Well, you could dance for him?’ says Lucy, mockingly. ‘You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.’
‘I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors next to my vag.’
‘I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?’
Beth rolls her eyes and goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he doesn’t fancy me? What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, he takes one look at my boobs and shrugs and says they’re not for him. I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?
‘You’re overthinking,’ says Beth.
‘I don’t have condoms.’
‘I put some in your bedside cabinet.’
How far ahead has Lucy planned this?
‘Meg also sent me a vibrator for you but we thought against it.’
‘Because I’m so sexually closed off?’
‘Because I kept it for myself; it’d be wasted on you,’ she replies.
‘This is why Simon slept with other people, didn’t he?’
‘Woah there,’ says Lucy holding out her hand. ‘Simon was a dick, get him out of your brain. There is no comparison here. Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, assess the back situation, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.’
The problem may be that I don’t know what fun is anymore. Am I fun?
I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Christ. Jag enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I have a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table, covered in small shards of hair, and goes to cut them open.
‘Crisps?’
‘Ooh, you went for something spicy. You like a spicy crisp, Ems.’
Beth and Lucy descend into giggles. I hate you both.
‘It’s a party in Brixton. A mutual mate’s birthday, totally forgot…’ says Lucy unconvincingly, pretending to check train times.
I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Jag and I can have the house to ourselves. Lucy keeps winking at me which is more down to the fact that she’s had at least two bottles of wine to herself. Jag stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. I can’t do this. I don’t want to look him in the eye because I can feel myself blushing and I am conscious that I may die from my face overheating.
‘Have fun, kids!’ chants Lucy as she shepherds Beth away from the house. I shut the door.
And then there were two. I turn and Jag is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. He goes to put the kitchen scissors back in the drawer.
‘Oh, those need to be washed.’
He smiles at me and then puts them in the sink.
‘Shall we tidy up now?’
‘It can wait?’
‘OK.’
He smiles that magnificent smile at me from across the room and I feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s first time nerves. Is it weird that I am also thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s pants from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to give a blow job? He starts to pour the last of the wine out.
‘Stop.’
‘Hammer time?’
‘Say what?’
‘I was just trying to be funny.’
I fake a laugh, walking over to the countertops where he stands. I grab a glass and take a large sip to steady myself.
‘Last time I was in this kitchen, you were nursing me back to health.’
‘After Lucy threw that bottle at you?’
He smiles a little nervously. ‘Can I say something? I think I need to tell you this before it happens.’ Here it is. The sex talk. Is he pre-empting the back thing? ‘It’s just, I don’t want you to see it and freak out.’
It’s either his back or his penis. There is something wrong with his penis. I can’t seem to reply.
‘I got you something for Christmas. And I normally wouldn’t spend so much on someone but it was on offer and now I feel like I overstepped and you’ll think I’m a stalker or something.’
I’m still speechless.
‘I got you a new sofa. For your office. Because the new girlfriend covered yours in amniotic fluid and stuff.’
‘You did what?’
‘I told Maddie and she cried. And now I think I’ve gone overboard but it’s from Ikea. Don’t get too excited. I don’t think you have to build it yourself but—’
And in that moment, I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. He’s good at this. His lips. It’s pleasant. I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. He’s kissing my nipples. Oh. Do I mention the condoms now? I realise my nipples are hard because someone bought me a sofa.
‘So not too much?’
‘I haven’t got you anything?’
‘This is perfect,’ he whispers. He looks me in the eye and brushes the hair from my face. ‘Not that I’m saying you have to pay me in sex. God, that’s not what I meant at all.’
I smile and kiss him back, feeling his erection pressed up against me. ‘I would like to give you the sex?’ I blurt out.
He laughs, ‘The sex?’
‘The sex.’
‘I mean, I don’t want to assume but now you’ve asked and… I haven’t shaved my back so I’m going to warn you in advance.’
‘My sister literally just trimmed my pubes for me.’
We both laugh, though he does look slightly confused.
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’ he asks me.
I nod. I can see the soft beat of his jugular through his skin, a pulse dancing underneath, and I put my own hand to my chest, almost to feel my heart open again, blood rushing to parts of me, giving me permission to feel something again. You bought me a sofa.
‘Yes. The sex. Please.’
Twenty-One
713 days since Grace told Simon to get a lawyer. A really fucking good lawyer
‘Soooo… you’ve been very quiet about it. What was his cock like?’
I pretend to stare intently, looking for parking spaces trying to maintain my dignity and grace, compared to Lucy who sits there sprawled in my passenger seat in a onesie, Uggs, a parka and sunglasses. I think the onesie even has ears. It’s been a few days since I slept with Jag. Was it a passionate display of lovemaking on my kitchen like one would see in a French New Wave film? No. We re-located to the sofa. It was first time sex: I laughed as he struggled to take off his jeans, he got incredibly sweaty, we headbutted each other and I got cramp in my right foot. But there was something incredibly real and honest about it. He was so sweet, attentive and complimentary and it just felt right. Lucy texted me the day after with rows of sexual emojis from baguettes to water droplets to avocados. I ignored her.
‘You’ve said nothing. I tell you everything,’ she complains.
‘And that’s how we’re different. It was very pleasant.’
‘Walks in the park are pleasant. Did he make you come? Was the back like a rug?’
I stare back at her and smile and she pouts sullenly. We’re here this morning on a retrieval mission. One of the advantages of being a doctor is that my body clock is completely buggered. It’s not ideal but it means I am your go-to person when you need to chat to someone in the middle of the night or require a pick-up from an airport. So when Grace messaged to tell us her flight was getting in at 6 a.m., I was no
minated. In any case, I didn’t mind at all. I haven’t seen her in forever and I’m desperate to hug her and have another sister back with the clan. Naturally though, I also dragged Lucy out for the adventure. Her body clock is governed by all those sozzled nights out so she’s like a human owl. I reverse my car into a space.
‘At least tell me what you were working with? He looks the sort to have some girth?’
‘It was a very pleasant penis.’
‘You are so dull. Grace has better stories than you and she’s a widow.’
I cast Lucy a look. It feels strange to use that word to describe our sister. She’s still so young that it just doesn’t seem real.
‘What stories would that be then?’
‘She went to a warehouse rave in Brooklyn and slept with a man called Z.’
‘He only had a single letter for a name?’
‘That’s all you got from that?’
‘Yes.’
It’s hard to imagine my fellow straight sister doing such a thing but maybe that’s what we’ve both got out of the last two years: we’d peeked over the line and dared to do something off the beaten track.
‘It’s so shitting cold, Ems.’
‘That’s because it’s December. What have you got on under that onesie?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Not even a bra? What happens when you need a wee? You’d be sat in a cubicle with your boobs out.’
‘I love that’s what you worry about. You know what would warm me up though, Mum? A coffee…’
She links arms with me as we try to find the terminal entrance. She’s taken to calling me Mum a lot recently which makes me feel aged but it’s usually a ploy to make me pay for stuff. I look like I’ve been accompanied here by a giant child. We find the arrivals gate and make our way through the sea of assorted drivers, holiday package operators and relatives towards a Starbucks. A person behind the till baulks at seeing Lucy approaching but they’re wearing Christmas antlers so they can hardly talk.
‘Hello, what’s the largest size of coffee you do?’ says Lucy.
‘Like the Venti?’
‘Yeah whatever that is. Americano, double shot it or whatever you can do to make it strong as tits.’
There’s a pause while the person behind the till tries to find the ‘strong as tits’ option on the ordering screen.
‘And just a regular cappuccino please.’
‘Name?’
‘Catwoman.’
I look at her strangely while I pay for them.
‘And why?’
‘It’s funny? Another bitch called Lucy stole my latte once so I do these things to protect my caffeine and amuse myself. Do we have a flight number or anything?’ Lucy asks.
I glance over at the screens. I actually don’t but Grace has been in Amsterdam so I’m sure we can pick something out. All we’ve been given is a terminal and a time. I check my phone again and scan the screens. There’s a flight coming in from N’Djamena? Havana? Lucy perches on a table and we watch as people filter in and out. Christmas means relatives are returning or visiting and files of grandparents trot out merrily to be met by little people with homemade banners. A kid obviously back from travelling hugs her father dearly who doesn’t let go. Behind them I see a happy reunion of a couple, engaging in a long drawn out kiss. There is a glow between them despite the hour. Lucy deposits three sachets of sugar into her coffee. She spies the reunion of the happy couple.
‘I don’t think I could love anyone enough to pick them up from an airport at six in the fucking morning.’ She takes a large sip of her coffee and makes fake retching sounds.
‘You’re here now?’
‘It’s Gracie. That’s not romantic love. That’s a love forged in stone. I’d chop my limbs off for my sisters.’
I like the grand admission in that statement. I’m not sure I’d do something so wildly impressive. I’d certainly negotiate other avenues first before losing all my limbs.
‘Maybe the right person hasn’t come along. One day you might meet someone you’d go to the ends of the world for? Maybe she was desperate to see him after some time apart.’
‘Fairy-tale bullshit. Maybe he’s a lazy cheap shit who didn’t want to waste money on an Uber.’
We look over at them again. He pushes the hair back from her face. She’s made an effort with some make-up so obviously had to rise half an hour earlier to make herself presentable.
‘Or maybe they’re having an affair. Maybe he’s a French businessman called Thierry and she is his British bit on the side. He’s told his wife he has to come to London for an important trip but really, he’s gonna take this bird down some airport hotel and they’re going to get shagging. Fiver says she’s not wearing knickers.’
I look over at her confused as one, she said most of that in forced French tones, and two, there’s also something that makes me wonder when she became so jaded about love.
‘One day you will end up in love, falling for all those grand gestures you speak of so cynically and I will laugh.’
‘It’ll never happen. The greatest thing I’ve learnt about being the youngest? I’ve got to see all of you and your experiences and it’s made me realise it’s not worth the hassle or the heartbreak.’
‘So you’re saying I’ve put you off love?’
‘Nah, I’m saying Meg got it sorted. I’d rather Meggy was closer but then you married Simon, Beth and Will are still in relationship limbo and well… Tom died.’ We both go a little quiet. She continues, ‘So, that’s four sisters: only one of whom has done alright out of love whilst the others have demonstrated the potential for things to go very wrong. Those are not good averages.’
‘But I found love again?’
‘So you love Jag?’ she replies excitedly.
‘I mean, my divorce was not the end.’
‘True. But the more I see of relationships, the more I just don’t like the risk involved.’
‘Says the biggest risk taker of us all.’
‘I have hidden depths, dear sister. I’m a sensitive sort with a fragile heart really.’
‘And I’ve heard you’re snogging girls too now?’
‘On occasion.’
‘So you’re bisexual?’
‘I don’t put a tag on it. If I fancy someone, I go for it. With penis or without. It’s all good fun and experience.’
‘And what if you want children down the line?’
She looks at me like I might be crazy.
‘Do I look like a mother?’
‘No one looks like a mother.’
‘You forget I work with children. There is far too high a risk of me ending up with a duffer that eats its own hair. Essentially, you sisters did all the hard work for me. My nieces and nephew are bloody wonders. You made the loves of my life for me.’
I smile broadly knowing her love for all our kids has always been the loudest, the most colourful. They will need a fun aunty Lucy to take them cool places and buy them the stuff that I’m far too un-streetwise and responsible to know about.
‘Plus I like my vag too much to put it through that. I heard Beth’s birth story.’
She winces, holding her crotch. I pull a face in resigned confusion.
‘Can I get a muffin or something?’
I sigh and nod, delving through my handbag looking for coins. She stands up but takes pause for a moment as three people head towards us. Lucy has the biggest smile on her face but I stand here, confused.
‘Gracie!’ screams Lucy, launching herself at Grace. It takes me a little longer to react.
I move from my chair but bend down to the tiny person beside Grace, a small child who hides behind her leg. She has a gorgeous mop of black hair and big brown eyes like chocolate buttons. She looks sleepy, dishevelled, and carries a purple rabbit toy under her arm.
‘This is Cleo.’
‘Grace?’ I say, looking up at her.
Lucy coos over the baby in the pram next to her.
‘And this is Ma
ya.’
I can’t seem to process the words.
‘I guess you’re aunties. Again?’ Lucy does a celebratory dance.
Grace smiles, tearing up and I can’t quite help but do the same. I hold my hand out to Cleo.
‘Hi, I’m Emma.’ She smiles and gives me her rabbit, my heart expanding beyond a size I knew feasible.
Back in the safety of my house, Grace sits curled up in one of my living room armchairs. Maya is asleep in her arms whilst Lucy entertains Cleo on the rug. Lucy will want to assert her domain as the fun aunt from the outset. Grace watches on and smiles serenely.
‘How old then?’
‘Cleo is three and Maya is one.’
‘And how?’
‘I visited the orphanage and school in Vietnam where Tom used to work. He spent months down there helping them build it and he was like some local hero. I was there for about eight weeks. These girls had recently lost their mother and I guess something clicked. Bonded through loss perhaps.’
I don’t mention Tom yet but I can see what she’s done here is invest her love in something bigger than her. She looks completely enamoured. From talking to those girls in the back of the car and the way she keeps kissing Maya on the forehead, there is a heart-warming connection. I’ve always loved this sister of mine but the way she accepts this role of mother without question or doubt fills me with such pride.
‘We thought you were in Amsterdam?’
‘I flew to Vietnam a week ago to get the paperwork done, jumping through rings to get things sorted so I could bring them back.’ There is a look in her that reads sheer joy and relief that she is embarking upon a new chapter.
‘Is your house sorted?’
‘Two weeks left before I can get back in but I was going to stay with Mum for a bit. Spring this on her and Dad.’
‘You’ve mean you haven’t told anyone?’
‘Not a peep. Paperwork was literally signed forty-eight hours ago then there was a mad scramble to head to Singapore to get gear for the girls and flights back here. I wanted to be sure.’
‘You should have said. One of us could have flown out to help you?’
Can I Give My Husband Back?: A totally laugh out loud and uplifting page turner Page 29
