by Jane Moore
“Like what?”
Martin shrugged. “Like family, kids, that sort of thing, I suppose.”
“Don’t you have any?” Jo knew she was being nosey, but she couldn’t help it. Martin Blake fascinated her because he was such a dark horse.
“Not that I know of.” It was clear she was going to have to drag any further information out of him.
“Have you never married?” She took a sip of the glass of chilled Chablis the waiter had placed in front of her. She’d noticed it was Premier Cru.
“What is this, twenty questions?” he laughed.
“Sorry, it’s just that relationships fascinate me at the moment because of my own situation, and apart from that you’re wearing a wedding ring.” She nodded at his left hand.
“Ah yes, you said the other day that you’ve just split up from your husband.” He ignored her observation. “How’s that all going?”
“Slowly and painfully. Marriage is great when it’s good, but bloody awful when it goes wrong. You’re best out of it,” she said, deftly changing the subject back to him.
“I know what you mean, but I like to think that at the age of forty-five I’m better equipped to choose someone I could spend the rest of my life with than I could, say, when I was in my twenties.” He took a small sip of wine. “Those are the years when you’re sweating away trying to make a name for yourself, so it’s little wonder relationships get neglected and go wrong. I’ve got time to give someone now. Trouble is, all the women I would be interested in are probably married with children.”
Jo picked up the other half of her roll and started to demolish it. “With your money, you could land a twenty-something airhead who’d give you the best years of her thighs,” she said.
“Not interested.” He shook his head as he said it. “Their age invariably matches their IQ. One of my downfalls as a wannabe Jack the Lad was always that I had to respect a woman to find her attractive.”
“My husband left me for a twenty-three-year-old,” she said. Again, she felt absolutely nothing saying it.
“Really?” Martin looked surprised. “Whatever for?”
“Limitless blow jobs and pert breasts, I suppose,” she shrugged. “You tell me, you’re a man.”
“Well, it’s nice of you to notice, thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “But I wouldn’t be the slightest bit interested in a twenty-three-year-old . . . for whatever reason.”
The arrival of the starters punctuated their conversation. Jo had a generously covered bruschetta while Martin opted for a Caesar salad without croutons or dressing.
“Bloody hell, that looks like something a rabbit would turn his nose up at,” she said, peering into the salad bowl.
“I try to eat healthily and do as much exercise as I can. You’ve got to start looking after yourself at my age.” Martin patted his chest at the heart area.
As they tucked into their respective dishes, Jo found herself feeling slightly irritated by his fussiness over food. She didn’t like a man to be overweight, but she also found it a turn-off if he tried a little too hard to stay in shape. Real men order straight off the menu, she reckoned.
“So anyway, have you ever been married?” she persisted.
“Dammit, I thought I’d deflected that subject,” he said, clicking his fingers in mock exasperation. “Yes, I have. Once, when I was very young.”
“And?”
“And it lasted all of eight months. We were both in our twenties and she got bored of waiting for me to finish work all the time. She wanted to go out and have fun, and I wanted to build up a business. So she went and found fun with someone else. Can’t say I blame her.”
“Are you still in touch?”
“Good God, no! I haven’t heard from her in, ooh, nearly twenty years. Once the quickie divorce was finalized there wasn’t really any need to speak again. It wasn’t as if we had children.”
“Yes, they certainly keep you in touch with one other,” sighed Jo. “Jeff and I are still falling out over the kids. I’ve banned him from letting them socialize with The Cliché.”
“Sorry?”
“That’s what I call the twenty-three-year-old because she’s one of his secretaries at work.” Martin poured her another generous glass of wine. She noticed he didn’t give himself any.
“You should let her mix with the children,” he said. “They’re the greatest weapon you have.”
“How do you figure that out?”
“Well, she’s twenty-three and there’s no way she’ll be ready to take on the responsibility of children. She’ll still be into clubbing, drinking, and sleeping off hangovers. Just think how the presence of children will disrupt her routine, not to mention their romantic little lie-ins.”
Jo’s eyes narrowed while she contemplated what Martin had just said. “I never thought of it like that.”
Clearly warming to the subject, he carried on. “Then the arguments will start. She’ll want to know why his children are there all the time, and he’ll get sensitive and say it’s because he loves having them and if she really loved him then she’d make the effort to get on with them.” His eyes were shining at the brilliance of it all. “Oh yes, it’s a classic. If I were you, I’d start the offensive this coming weekend.”
The main courses arrived and the conversation moved on to the next stage of the house refurbishment. As Jo tucked into a gargantuan steak, Martin ate his way through a frugal plate of penne with tomato sauce and listened to her plans. By the time she’d had a coffee, it was 2:45 P.M.
“Crikes, I’d better get going. I’ve got to pick the children up from school,” she said, tapping the brightly colored Swatch she’d won in a Reader’s Digest giveaway two years ago.
“You head off. I’ll take care of this,” said Martin, gesturing to the waiter to bring the bill. “Oh, by the way, if the children have a favorite band they’d like to see, just ask and I’ll get tickets. That goes for you too. Perk of the job.”
“Thanks Martin, that’s really kind of you.” She stood up and shook his hand. “And thanks for lunch too. I feel I should have treated you really, what with all this work you’re giving me, not to mention marital advice.”
“Nonsense. Anyway, it’s been a pleasant diversion from work. As the owner said, I don’t get out much during the day.”
Having said she’d call him when the next round of decisions was needed, Jo left the restaurant and walked briskly to her car, where a traffic cop was lurking in preparation for the meter to go two minutes into penalty time.
She arrived at the school just as children started walking out into the playground where parents gathered to collect them. Sophie was going to tea at a friend’s house today, so it was just Thomas she was looking out for. He walked out looking disconsolate and alone behind a group of babbling classmates.
“Hello munchkin,” she said cheerily, using the pet name he’d had since a baby.
“Hiya.” He looked excessively glum.
“Oh dear, bad day?” She ruffled his hair.
“Mummy?” Rather than simply ask his question, Thomas was in the habit of always getting his mother’s undivided attention first.
“Yes.”
“Are you and Daddy going to get divorced?” He looked up at her questioningly.
“What makes you ask that?” Jo was momentarily thrown.
“Because Jake says you are. He says Daddy isn’t ever coming back and that he’s going to marry his girlfriend instead.” Thomas’s face had creased with worry.
Jake was the class know-it-all. And what he doesn’t know he makes up, thought Jo. It was obvious to her that Jake’s parents must have given him the information, then he in turn had blabbed at school. She recalled the little shit had also been the one to tell Thomas there was no Father Christmas.
“Daddy and I haven’t decided what’s going to happen yet, but you’ll be the first to know, darling.” Jo could feel a tear pricking the corner of her eye and surreptitiously poked a finger there to rub it away
. “Whatever happens, you’ll still get to see him as much as you like.”
“Will he marry Candy?” Suddenly, Thomas looked a vulnerable, lost little boy.
“I don’t know, sweetie. Daddy and Mummy are still married at the moment, and all that matters to us is that you and Sophie are happy.”
His face suddenly lit up. “If you went and told Daddy that you loved him and want him to come back, he would, I know he would.”
Jo felt her heart lurch. “No Thomas, he’s with Candy now. He doesn’t love Mummy anymore but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you and Sophie. We all have to try and make the best of the situation.”
Thomas fell silent as they turned the corner into the main street of shops. Jo couldn’t bear to carry on with the conversation, so she practiced the ancient art of parental distraction.
“I’ll tell you what. As it’s just you and me today, why don’t we walk down to the toy shop and see if they’ve got a new batch of Pokémon cards in? Don’t tell Sophie though,” she grinned.
“Cool! Thanks Mum.” Thomas’s face was transformed by a beaming smile and he ran ahead in excitement.
I wish the thought of some new Pokémon cards would solve all my problems, thought Jo wistfully, as she hurried after him.
15
in front of Sunday morning television, Jo luxuriated in a foam bath and enjoyed what she suspected would be her only calm period of the day.
For a few self-indulgent minutes, she lay there and thought about Sean. His face. His smile. His sense of humor. And his seeming straightforwardness. She marveled that not only had she bumped into a man, or rather he’d bumped into her, who had all these qualities, but also he seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better. It was a nice, empowering feeling, and one that made her more than ready to take on the curse of Jeff, who was arriving in one hour’s time to spend the day with the children.
In a heated phone call not long after the pink hair debacle, Jo had categorically banned him from taking the children anywhere near his new home.
“You can’t do this Jo,” he’d said.
“Yes I can, because you can’t be trusted to do as I ask,” she’d replied firmly. “I’m not stopping you from seeing them, merely saying you have to come here instead. You can take them to the local park.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” he’d snapped, so Jo knew today was probably going to be strained.
Twenty minutes later, her bath over and quietly humming to herself, she looked out of the window at the clear blue sky and pulled on a knee-length floral dress she’d bought at the local As New agency for a tenner. It flattered her slim figure. She brushed her hair and reached for a scrunchy, then had second thoughts. The other evening, Sean had remarked that her hair looked nicer loose than it had the day of the collision when it had been tied back.
“Loose I think,” she said to the mirror.
Unusually, she also applied a light touch of mascara and lipstick. Amazing what even the mild interest of a new man can do for your self-image, she thought idly.
The doorbell rang at 9:30 sharp.
“Get that will you, kids?” bellowed Jo. There was no response.
“So much for missing their beloved father,” she muttered, running down the stairs.
As she opened the door, Jeff bent down to pick up the bag at his feet. When he looked up, he seemed taken aback.
“Bloody hell, what’s with you?”
“What do you mean?” she frowned.
“You look different. Your hair’s down and you’re wearing makeup.”
“Well bugger me, alert the media,” snapped Jo.
As he walked in to the living room to say hello to the children, Jo stayed in the hallway and took a deep breath. He will not get to me, my life is moving on, she silently chanted to herself.
“Tea?” she said cheerily, popping her head round the living room door to find Jeff being totally ignored by Thomas and Sophie who were staring, expressionless, at MTV.
“Yes please.” He got up and followed her into the kitchen.
“It’s a nice day. I thought we could take them up to the park and play frisbee,” she said casually, turning off the kettle and reaching for two mugs.
“Yeah, whatever,” replied Jeff, still looking at her curiously. “So what’s with the change of appearance, then? Anything to do with the phantom aftershave wearer?”
Jo stared at him blankly for a moment, then realized he was referring to the night Conor had stayed in the spare bedroom.
“Just because I wear my hair loose and put on some mascara, it doesn’t mean I have a new man,” she said. Well not exactly anyway, she thought.
“Bloody hell, don’t tell me it’s for my benefit, then?” If Jo didn’t know better, she could have sworn Jeff looked hopeful.
“Very funny,” she smiled. “No, it’s for me.”
“Oh.” He piled three sugars into his tea. “Well, you look great anyway.”
“Thanks,” replied Jo, and she meant it.
She rapidly concluded that if she could remain unaffected by Jeff’s occasional caustic remarks, it put her in a far more powerful position than being rattled by them. She also realized that her burgeoning flirtation with Sean had given her something else to think about than what a great time Jeff may or may not be having with Candy. Her indifference was a formidable weapon.
“There’s something else different about you, apart from your appearance,” he said as they strolled on the common an hour later. The children had been forcibly dragged from the TV, and were now sullenly and half-heartedly throwing a frisbee to each other.
“Really? Like what?” Jo knew full well what it was but was relishing every moment that Jeff remained in the dark.
He frowned. “I don’t know exactly, but you seem more at ease, somehow.”
“That’s probably true. Life feels good right now.” She stooped down to pick up Thomas’s baseball cap that was lying in the grass.
“So what’s changed then?” Jeff had stopped walking and turned to face her.
“If you want the truth, I think I’m almost over you,” she said, waving at Sophie in the distance. “Still not completely maybe, but as near as dammit. Enough to want to get on with my life, anyway.”
“I see,” he said flatly. “What does that mean exactly?”
“What does it mean?” she shrugged. “Not much I guess, except that I’ve been to see a solicitor about starting divorce proceedings.”
Jeff had just taken a swig from a can of Diet Coke, which he proceeded to spit all over the grass. “Hang on, whoa!” he spluttered. “What the bloody hell did you do that for?”
“Do what? The solicitor or the divorce?” she said sweetly.
“Both.” He looked shellshocked. “Why didn’t you talk to me about it first?”
“To be honest, I didn’t see the point. We’ve argued so much since you left and I knew the subject of divorce would cause another row. It’s so much better to do these things dispassionately through a third party, wouldn’t you agree?”
He was looking at her as if she were an alien being who’d lost all contact with the mother ship. “No, I fucking don’t.”
“Oh.” She feigned a disappointed look. “Well, it’s too late now anyway, because I’ve decided that’s what I want to do. I mean, it’s not as if this situation could drift on forever anyway. I’m sure you’d like to make things official with Candy at some point, and you can’t do that if you’re still married to me, can you?”
She was laughing inside at her own reasonableness, knowing how much it would infuriate him. It worked a treat.
“Marry Candy? Have you gone fucking mad?”
She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise at his vehement outburst. “Well, it has been a few months now, hasn’t it? Believe you me, it won’t be long before she’s badgering you for an engagement ring. Out with the old, in with the new, eh?”
Jo started walking toward the children who were now some distance away, tryi
ng to retrieve their frisbee from a mischievous Jack Russell terrier. Jeff followed.
“She can badger all she bloody likes, she won’t be getting one,” he said, lobbing his Coke can into a bin.
“Well, frankly Jeff, that’s between you and her. It doesn’t concern me anymore. All I care about is that the children get to see you as much as they want, so I’ve been thinking . . .” She tailed off, remembering Martin’s thoughts on letting the children pervade Candy and Jeff’s life.
“Yes?” muttered Jeff, clearly finding it difficult to take everything in.
She let out a long, labored sigh. “I’ve been thinking that maybe I’m being unreasonable not letting the children see Candy.”
“You are?” Jeff now resembled a man who’d been blindfolded and spun around three times.
“Yes. So why don’t you take them home with you tonight and do whatever you want to do. They’d like that.” More to the point, she quite fancied a night at home on her own with just a video and takeout for company.
Jeff slowly shook his head. “Trouble is, Candy’s going on a girls’ night out to some club in Soho.”
How classy, thought Jo, but resisted the urge to comment. Her heart swelled with joy at the thought of an extremely tired and hungover Candy being jumped on by Thomas and Sophie at 8 A.M.
“Have them anyway,” she smiled. “It’s you they want to see after all.”
“No, I’ll tell you what,” Jeff had visibly cheered up. “Why don’t I hang around tonight and stay in the spare room? Then I’ll be there in the morning when they wake up. They’d like that.”
Jo pretended to give his suggestion some thought. “No, that would give out confusing messages. It might make them think there’s a chance of you moving back in.”
“It’s not completely out of the question, is it? Who knows what might happen.” He looked pathetic.
Jo marveled at the duplicity of men, but particularly Jeff. He’d walked out on her and the children, yet here he was, desperately trying to keep a foot in the family camp in case the new squaw turned out to be a bit of a dud. Well, he could fuck right off.
