‘You look beautiful,’ Matt said a few minutes later, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. ‘Want to see?’
‘No,’ Jools said. But she did. Matt led her into the bathroom. She kept her head lowered until she was right in front of the mirror and only then did she look. And she looked fine. She looked like herself only bald.
‘This is surreal. I feel like it’s for a joke or a play or fancy dress or something. I don’t feel like this is really me.’
Matt stood behind her, his arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder. He turned his head to brush his lips over her neck.
‘You look like a hot alien. Or a sexy squaddie.’
‘Oh my god,’ Jools laughed. ‘You’re ridiculous.’
‘I’m serious, I love it.’ He straightened up and trailed his fingers over her head. ‘I think it’s a fetish I never knew I had.’
‘Half your team mates are bald,’ Jools told him. ‘No training for you today.’
He kissed her again, on the temple this time, and asked if he should get the wig.
Jools hadn’t looked at it since she’d bought it with Eve. She’d been happy with it in the store, but once home, she’d reverted to her usual denial and put it away in her dressing room, tucked into the back of a cupboard where she knew the girls wouldn’t find it. All she needed was to come home one day and find them using her ridiculously expensive human hair wig as a Girls’ World.
‘Do you know how to put it on?’ Matt asked her, standing behind her again.
Jools held her fingers up to her forehead. ‘If you lower it over the front, I can grab it and pull it down.’
It took a bit of arranging and wiggling and Jools’s head felt weird – hot and itchy – but when she looked in the mirror, she couldn’t quite believe it wasn’t real hair.
‘You know what you look like?’ Matt said, his hands massaging her shoulders. ‘You look like you did when we first met. Remember when we went on that boat?’
‘The Duck Boat?’ Jools said. ‘On the Thames.’
Matt nodded. And I took a photo of you and you were embarrassed cos you weren’t posing and you thought it was a bad angle or some bollocks.
‘It was a bad angle.’
‘But you looked amazing. The wind was blowing your hair back and your cheeks were pink.’ He stroked his thumb over her jaw. ‘I was already falling in love with you then.’
‘You were not,’ Jools said. ‘And it’s the fringe. I had a fringe back then. Briefly.’
She hadn’t had a fringe for years, but she’d chosen a fringed wig because she thought the hairline would be less obvious. And it did actually make her look younger.
Matt kissed the back of her neck. ‘Remember what we did after the boat?’
Jools laughed. They’d gone for dinner. And then to a bar with a huge screen on one wall and a singer who’d murdered Snow Patrol’s ‘Chasing Cars.’ And then they’d gone back to Matt’s place and slept together for the first time.
Matt ran his hands through the wig, lifting the hair into a ponytail and dropping it down Jools’s back.
‘I’m starting to worry this might actually be a fetish,’ Jools said. First the shaved head, now the wig. All these years and I had no idea.’
‘Have you got a spare I can take to training?’ Matt joked, resting his chin on the top of her head.
Jools stared at him in the mirror, smiling at him around the sudden lump in her throat.
‘Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.’
‘Lucky you don’t have to then, eh?’ Matt said.
‘It was actually OK,’ Emma said, fiddling with the tiny biscuit that had come with the coffee. She didn’t actually like them much, but god knows she needed the sugar. ‘Hang on,’ she said, standing. ‘I’m going to get a pastry as big as my face. Want one?’
‘I’ll have a croissant,’ Hanan said, reaching for her bag.
‘Don’t worry,’ Emma said. ‘I’ll get it. Beth?’
Beth shook her head. ‘I’m back at Slimming World. Again.’
As Emma waited in the queue for her pastry, she wondered what they thought of Beth at Slimming World since she looked like she was probably a size eight. She remembered Jools, picking at her sad bit of fish. Must be rubbish to live like that, so joyless. When Emma returned to the table with a croissant and butter for Hanan and a pain aux raisin so enormous that it didn’t quite fit on the plate, Beth was explaining ‘green days’ and ‘syns’ to a horrified-looking Hanan.
‘It’s dead easy really,’ Beth said.
‘It doesn’t sound it,’ Hanan told her.
‘No, it is,’ Beth said. ‘Emma’s tormenting me with that pastry though.’
‘Want a bit?’ Emma said, although she didn’t really want to share.
‘Nah,’ Beth said. ‘Thanks though. So … go on!’
‘Yeah,’ Emma said, covering her mouth since it was full of pain aux raisin. ‘It was OK. Bit awkward, but these things often are. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. And the restaurant was nice.’
‘I don’t want to know about the restaurant!’ Beth said. ‘What about Jools? And Matt Jackson?’
Every time Beth had mentioned Matt she’d used his full name. It made Emma laugh.
‘They were fine! He was a lot nicer than her. But …’ Emma paused and took a gulp of her coffee. ‘She invited me to book club.’
‘Oh my god!’ Beth shrieked. ‘She did not!’
‘She didn’t want to,’ Emma said. ‘Matt suggested it. And either she didn’t know how to say no or she thought she shouldn’t? I don’t know. But she texted and asked for my email and then she sent me the rules. Hang on …’
‘I can’t believe Jools is texting you,’ Beth said, as Emma tapped open her phone. ‘That’s it now. You’ll go to book club and you’ll be friends with them and you’ll stop speaking to us.’
‘I would never do that!’ Emma said, scrolling through her messages. ‘I’m just going to go once so she doesn’t feel like I’m snubbing her or something, but I’m not interested in being friends with her, I promise you. We’ve got nothing in common.’
‘What’s the big deal with her anyway?’ Hanan asked. ‘Why is everyone so obsessed with her?’
‘She’s just so full of herself,’ Beth said. ‘She looks down on me cos me and my fella aren’t married. I did the sweet stall with her once at the Summer Fair and she was really weird. Cold. And rude.’
Hanan shrugged. ‘I just try not to let things like that bother me, you know? Like, I’m not interested in being friends with her so I just sort of tune her out. I’m not even sure which one she is. They all look the same to me.’
Emma laughed. ‘She’s the one with the amazing long blonde hair.’
She held up her phone. ‘Listen to this, “Firstly, punctuality is important”,’ Emma read. ‘“Yes, Book Club is a social event, but we’re all busy and none of us has time to waste waiting for other people to turn up.” It starts at seven,’ she told Beth and Hanan. ‘But she also says we’re to be mindful not to get there earlier than seven because she’ll be putting the children to bed and won’t be able to entertain us.’
‘So what are you meant to do?’ Beth asked. ‘Stand outside until dead on seven?’
‘I think that’s exactly what we’re meant to do, yeah,’ Emma said.
She carried on reading. ‘“The person who chooses the book also prepares a short presentation about the book and writes the discussion questions.”’
‘Wow,’ Hanan said. She leaned over and pulled a sippy cup out of the bottom of the buggy and gave it to Mohammed, who was sitting placidly tearing a napkin to bits.
‘This is like bloody school!’ Beth said.
‘Yep,’ Emma agreed. ‘“Following book discussion, we will take suggestions for next month’s book. Please think of a book you would like to suggest we read together with a short list of reasons we might enjoy it.”’
‘What are you going to suggest?’ Hanan asked. ‘Dare you to
say something filthy.’
‘What’s that one my sister got me for Christmas?’ Beth said, scrunching her face as she tried to remember. ‘My Dad Wrote a Porno!’
‘Oh my god,’ Emma said. ‘Can you imagine? Not that it matters since I’m not going to go back.’
‘I bet you do,’ Beth said. ‘Once they’ve got their hooks in you …’
‘It’s not a cult,’ Hanan said, laughing.
‘Might as well be,’ Beth said. ‘I can’t even remember the last time I read a book. I can barely get through a magazine these days.’
‘Did you know they’ve got a nanny?’ Emma asked Beth and Hanan, putting her phone back in her bag.
‘Course,’ Beth said. ‘She’s picked the kids up a few times. I think she’s Polish?’
‘She was telling me I should get one,’ Emma said. ‘Or an au pair anyway.’
‘She’s in a different world,’ Beth said. ‘She’s got a cleaner as well, I bet.’
‘I’d love a cleaner,’ Emma said, pulling her pain aux raisin apart and folding some into her mouth.
Beth pulled a face. ‘I’d hate it. Someone coming in my house? Seeing all my stuff?’
‘What stuff have you got?’ Emma asked, grinning.
‘Just … you know. Personal stuff. Nothing dodgy.’
‘Can I have a bit of that, actually?’ Beth said, pointing at Emma’s pain aux raisin. Emma passed her the plate.
‘So when’s the book club meeting?’ Hanan asked Emma.
‘End of the month,’ Emma said. ‘So I’ve got about ten days to read Jude the Obscure.’
‘Ugh,’ Beth said, spraying pastry crumbs. ‘Good luck.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Jools was wearing a floaty blue dress that Emma knew would look like a tablecloth on her, but looked deeply stylish on the other woman. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and Emma could see diamonds twinkling in her earlobes.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ Emma said. ‘The kids were—’
‘It’s fine,’ Jools interrupted, already walking away from Emma. ‘Maggie’s not here yet either.’
The kids were not keen on her going out, is what Emma had been about to say. But it wasn’t entirely true. She hadn’t been keen on going either, not least because she hadn’t actually read the book. She’d tried, but it was so dark. She’d read a few pages and realised she hadn’t taken anything in at all. For the past ten days she’d had a ‘not done your homework’ feeling hanging over her and it made her wonder why she was bothering with the book club at all. But Paul. And friends. And mental stimulation. That’s what had finally propelled her out of the house.
Emma followed Jools through to a room with bi-fold doors opening out onto what looked like a beautiful garden – Emma could see a treehouse tucked away in the branches of an enormous oak. The wall above the fireplace was covered in framed photographs of Jools, Matt and their kids. It was bright and stylish, but comfortable and welcoming and Emma – who’d left her own house in disarray: Lego and clothes and dog hair and school books covering pretty much every surface – felt so envious she almost swooned.
Eve and Flic were sitting opposite each other on two sofas, and Emma found herself wishing that Maggie was there. She had been hoping to at least see one friendly face.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Jools asked. ‘We’ve got vodka, gin, Pimms, wine …’
‘Wine’s good, thanks. Red, if you’ve got it.’
She was actually more nervous than she’d anticipated, so Dutch courage seemed like a good idea. It had been a while since she’d been around such intimidating women. She tried to channel London Emma, pre-kids Emma, but she felt very far away.
Jools disappeared into what Emma assumed would be an equally – if not more – covetable kitchen and Emma perched at the end of the nearest sofa, next to Eve.
Eve was possibly even more glamorous than Jools in a pristine white shirt and tight, ripped jeans, five inch stilettos on her feet.
‘This house is beautiful,’ Emma said.
The other two women hummed in agreement and then Jools was back with an enormous wine glass and a bottle of red. She put them on the coffee table in front of Emma and Emma immediately poured herself a glass. Jools sat on an armchair between the two sofas, crossing her legs, a glass of something with orange juice dangling from her fingers. While the other women talked – about their children, their husbands, Eve’s job at a theatre in Liverpool – Emma looked around the room and wondered if Matt was home – upstairs with the kids maybe? And if so, would he come down and say hello?
‘How are you all settling in, Emma?’ Jools asked. ‘You’ve been here, what? Three months now?’
‘Yep, just about,’ Emma said. She sipped at her drink, realising a second too late that she’d emptied her glass while everyone else was talking. She leaned forward and poured herself another.
She’d just taken a sip when she heard the front door open and Maggie came in and joined the other women in the lounge.
Maggie greeted Emma and Flic, but didn’t acknowledge Eve, Emma noticed. Interesting.
‘So?’ Jools prompted Emma. ‘You were about to tell us how you’re finding living here.’
‘It’s great,’ Emma said. ‘It’s so lovely. I love the beach.’
‘Have you been to Hilbre yet?’ Maggie asked, leaning forward on the sofa.
Emma shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’ve been promising the kids every weekend. Ruby said we have to go cos they’re doing a project on it? I just haven’t got round to sorting it yet. You know how time gets away from you?’
By the expressions on their faces, Eve and Jools didn’t seem to identify, so Emma looked at Maggie and Flic on the other sofa. Flic was smiling at her with a look of eager encouragement, while Maggie was staring at Eve with an unreadable expression on her face. Well, not entirely unreadable; Emma wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.
‘You know you need to be careful of the tides?’ Eve interjected. ‘You can look them up online. You don’t want to get stranded. There’s nothing there.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ Emma said. ‘I fantasise about being alone on an island. No kids nagging me. No husband who can’t find his wallet. No washing. Or cooking. Or cleaning.’
Emma had expected the other women to laugh. Or agree. Or sympathise. Instead Eve said, ‘You don’t have a cleaner?’ She sounded appalled.
Emma barked out a laugh. ‘God no. Do you?’
As it turned out, they all did, apart from Flic. (Emma was unreasonably disappointed to find Maggie on the opposing side.) And Jools sent her husband’s shirts out to a laundry service who collected them and returned them to the house. Emma had never even heard of such a thing.
Emma finished her second glass of wine and sneaked the glass onto the floor by the sofa. She wanted a third, but she knew that really wouldn’t be a good idea. And she assumed the evening would be over soon anyway. It was, Jools announced, time to talk about the book.
It turned out that Eve had been the one to choose Jude the Obscure. She talked about how she’d studied it at university and adored it and how she’d been involved in an inspiring theatre production. She’d written her discussion questions in a Moleskine notebook and each woman commented in turn, although Maggie didn’t seem to have much to say. It was all very civilised. But not much fun. Emma hadn’t contributed anything at all, since she hadn’t read the book and following the comments from the others, she never planned to.
‘Does anyone have any suggestions for the next book?’ Jools asked.
‘Do you only ever read classics?’ Emma said.
‘That’s not a rule,’ Jools said. ‘But that is what we’ve mostly chosen so far.
‘OK, so I was just reading about this book,’ Emma started. She’d read about it on one of the lifestyle blogs she seemed to now be addicted to. ‘It was made into a TV show with Sheridan Smith? I don’t know if you saw it. Anyway. It’s a memoir by this woman who got breast cancer young and—’
‘No,’ Jools said.
Emma looked over at her, startled at her tone. ‘OK, um, I just thought it might be—’
‘I think we need to stick with novels,’ Jools said. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes looked bright with tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ Emma said. ‘I didn’t … It’s funny, not sad. Well, it’s a bit sad, but—’
‘I said no,’ Jools said, standing up and glancing around as if she was looking for someone to rescue her. ‘Does anyone have any other ideas? I’m going to the bathroom.’
Jools left and the remaining women were silent for a moment before Emma said, ‘Did I … I’m sorry I didn’t …’
‘It’s fine,’ Eve said. ‘She just … she has a thing about depressing books. And strong opinions on what we should read in this group. You know?’
‘Right,’ Emma said. As if Jude the Obscure wasn’t depressing.. ‘I didn’t … I thought it might make a change?’
Eve narrowed her eyes slightly and Emma immediately regretted opening her big mouth. ‘We’ve had this book club for a while. This is your first time here. I think we’re the ones who decide whether it needs to change or not, yeah?’
‘Yes,’ Emma said. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to …’ She was babbling. And over-apologising. And she didn’t even really know why. It wasn’t that big a deal, surely. She’d just suggested a book that Jools didn’t like the sound of, why was Eve acting like she’d come in and shit on the rug?
She poured herself another glass of wine. Her third, so it had to be her last. At her book club in London they’d kept pouring until none of them could see straight to pour any more, but clearly that wasn’t how things worked here. She missed the girls in London. She should phone them. No, not phone. No one answered their phone any more. She should revive the group chat. Maybe when Paul wasn’t so busy she could pop back down for the weekend and they could all go out and catch up. She wondered if they were still doing book club without her. If they’d replaced her with one of the other mums. The thought of it made her stomach twist painfully. If she’d thought she would make friends tonight, she’d clearly been mistaken.
The Bad Mothers’ Book Club Page 12
