The feud, p.9
The Feud, page 9
‘Mum, can you sign this form?’ Ryan knocked on the door and I let him in. He brandished a sheet of paper and a pen at me.
‘What’s it for?’ I asked, already scanning the page.
‘Field trip next week, we’re going to visit a working mill for Geography.’ He sighed, already bored by the prospect.
I signed the form and handed it back to him, noticing he’d filled in the rest for me, and it was only the parental permission he needed.
‘Thanks,’ he replied and shuffled back out of the room.
‘God, he’s getting so tall!’ Claire said when he’d gone.
‘I know. Scary, isn’t it?’ I replied and took the blouse out of her hand.
I was so glad Claire had come over, picking out black straight-legged jeans, heeled boots and bringing with her a lipstick for me to wear. She was much better at clothes than I was, knowing exactly how to dress her petite frame and maximise her curves. I mostly wanted to appear shorter, and thinner, although I’d got better at owning my height as the years went by.
‘Okay, I’ll try it on,’ I said, removing my sweatshirt.
‘Do you know where you’re meeting him yet?’
‘Mike’s booked a table at Zizzi’s, we’re meeting there at eight,’ I said, pulling on the jeans and nearly toppling over. We’d sunk half a bottle already, the music blaring in my bedroom so the twins wouldn’t hear us talking about my upcoming date.
Since she’d arrived to join us for dinner, bringing her spinach with her as always, I’d told Claire about Liam and his contract error and Jonathan inviting the estate agent over. Out of earshot of the kids, she’d shaken her head and hissed, ‘He’s such a wanker!’ A term she frequently used for Jonathan since we’d split.
‘The house is worth more than we thought, we might even have enough for around a hundred and fifty grand each, so good for a deposit somewhere else.’
‘I don’t know why you just don’t let me move in,’ she mused, ‘think of all the great parties we could have.’
‘We’re not in our twenties any more,’ I laughed.
The outfit Claire had chosen looked good and I was pleasantly surprised by my reflection when she applied a coat of her lipstick with perfect precision.
‘Gorgeous. He’ll be unable to resist,’ she said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I stared at my reflection, apprehensive at such a big step, going on a date with another man. But it would be good to get back in the game as Claire had said, and it would also be a way to show Jonathan I was moving on.
At work on Friday, I’d deliberately orchestrated a quiet day, knowing my concentration levels would be low. I rescheduled my meetings for Monday but got called into the Allegra start-up that Tim put in my diary thirty minutes before it was due. I gathered the paperwork and sat in the meeting room opposite Liam, who smiled tightly at me before averting his gaze. It was as though he was trying to distance himself.
Ed led the meeting, talking through the logistics of the start-up and who was doing what. Liam was going to induct the new employees and go through the contract so everyone knew where they stood. Ed would make sure the workers had a proper training programme and buddy system before they would be allowed to drive any of the forty-foot trailers alone.
I kept expecting Liam to interrupt, to apologise for the error he’d made in the contract, but it never happened. Observing him, he seemed on edge, playing with his pen constantly, unable to stop his hands from moving. Was he expecting me to raise it?
‘Maybe we’ll send our glamour girl Kay to meet them,’ Tim chuckled, eyes glinting, cascading down my body.
‘She’ll keep them in line wearing those boots. Have you got a riding crop at home?’ Ed teased. I didn’t mind Ed, his banter was innocent, non-judgemental and without agenda. He usually blushed to high heaven if anything remotely sexual was mentioned. Unlike Tim, whose snake-like eyes stared at my knee-high winter boots as though he was considering getting down on all fours and licking them.
The boots were black, flat-heeled and not at all sexy in my eyes, but the men at Winston’s would latch on to anything they could metaphorically rub their crotch on.
‘I don’t think that’s appropriate, do you? Let’s get back to the secondment.’ Pinched words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them, steering the meeting back on track.
Liam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. My neck flushed but I ignored the rising burn.
Suitably admonished, my attire wasn’t mentioned again. I saw a look pass between Tim and Ed, naughty schoolboys put back in their place. Had I inadvertently sealed my fate? Easy-breezy Kay who would always let things slide and never retaliate had broken her silence. Had I given them an excuse to push me out?
16
‘You know we’re only kidding.’ Tim’s posh lilt grated as we stood outside the meeting room, the others already departed. I clutched my papers to my body, a barrier between my boobs and Tim’s wandering eyes.
‘Yes, I know that, Tim, but it’s not always appropriate. Being the Global HR Manager, surely you can see that?’ I replied, emphasising the ‘global’. If he didn’t see there was a problem and understand he was contributing to it, what chance did Winston’s have?
Tim puffed his chest out like a pigeon; I’d overstepped the mark. ‘Now look, Kay, are you saying there’s a problem? Because we don’t want to open a can of worms here. There’s a restructure coming. It’s time to keep your head down and not cause a fuss.’
I glared at Tim incredulously but didn’t respond. Was that a threat?
‘Good, good. Glad to see we’re on the same page,’ he continued, filling the silence before striding away.
I’d missed my chance to register a formal complaint and perhaps Tim was right, it could be a bad time to raise my head above the parapet.
I touched my neck where the pendant had become a permanent fixture. It gave me comfort and spurred me on at the same time.
The kids were home when I got there later, packing their things as Jonathan waited on the driveway. He was overseeing the man from the estate agents banging a For Sale board into my flower bed. I scowled at the sign and at them, not bothering to speak as I went inside, hearing Jonathan chuckle before I slammed the door.
‘Hi, kids,’ I shouted, removing my boots and leaving them on the welcome mat. The twins were upstairs, their rooms a tidal wave of clothes pulled from drawers and wardrobes, but I refused to moan, they weren’t going to be home for long and I’d miss them when they left. ‘What are you doing this weekend, do you know?’ I asked, loitering in the hallway, between the two open doors.
‘Not sure. Cinema, I think,’ Rachel offered, her voice glum. It was due to rain all weekend and the prospect of being cooped up in Jonathan’s flat must have been unappealing.
Ryan seemed to be shoving things into his backpack as though each item had personally offended him.
‘What’s the matter? Don’t you want to go?’ I asked, leaning on his door frame.
‘I don’t see why, every weekend, we have to see him, and now her,’ he spat.
‘You don’t have to go every weekend. Why don’t you stay at home next time, and we’ll do something together?’
‘It’s not that. We don’t get to hang out with our mates and stuff, all our time is taken up. Homework and school during the week and Dad all weekend,’ Rachel chipped in.
‘You went to the cinema with Casey.’
‘Okay, once, I went out once. I hardly ever get to do that between the amount of coursework I have to do and then seeing Dad all weekend,’ Rachel groaned.
‘Well, next weekend, stay here and I won’t plan anything. You can both do whatever you like?’ I said, buoyed to be the parent they wanted to stay with for a change, even though I knew it was only so they could see their friends.
I understood their frustration, they were sixteen for goodness’ sake, wanting to be out. Instead, all their time was planned for them. They didn’t spend enough of it doing what they wanted to do, making their own choices and having fun.
Ryan stalked past me, his room resembling a bomb site and smelling like one too. He trotted down the stairs two at a time, his lumbering frame all arms and legs. Rachel rolled her eyes in his direction and gave me a quick peck on the cheek as she passed.
‘Bye, Mum. See you Sunday,’ she said, swinging her rucksack over her shoulder and following Ryan down the stairs.
I joined them at the front door, where Jonathan was waiting, swinging his keys around his finger like a cowboy.
‘Should hopefully have some viewings next week, try and keep it tidy, eh?’ he said, and I pressed my lips together, sealing inside the abusive language I wanted to throw at him. I wanted to tell the patronising bastard to fuck off, but I never talked to Jonathan like that in front of the children. Although he seemed to have no qualms putting me down in front of them. What kind of lessons was he teaching them? That it was okay for Ryan to belittle women and Rachel should get used to being spoken to like that by men? It made my blood boil.
‘What is that!’ Ryan said, booting the base of the For Sale sign and watching it wobble in the wind.
‘Don’t do that. You can see what it is, Ryan,’ Jonathan said icily.
‘I don’t want to move,’ he moaned to his dad. My chest ached for him, I wanted to add, Me too, kiddo.
‘Yeah well, we all have to do things we don’t want to do, son, that’s just life,’ Jonathan said, ushering him into the car, where Rachel was waiting. I wanted to tell Jonathan that it was an awful year to disrupt the twins, with mock exams coming up, GCSE coursework and revision, but he was already climbing into his car. It would keep for another day.
‘Bye, kids, keep in touch,’ I called, ignoring Jonathan.
They both waved and I closed the door, anger subsiding. I pitied Monique having to put up with that condescending prick, but she was much younger, and probably accepted it gratefully. I imagined her dressed as Oliver, holding out her hands and saying, ‘Please, sir, can I have some more? More please, sir.’
Sniggering at the image, I went back upstairs to air Ryan’s room, throwing the window open as wide as it would go. Why did teenage boys’ rooms smell so bad? I discovered a few old socks and reams of toilet paper under the bed which I swiftly chucked down the toilet without thinking too much about it.
I should leave his room as it was, that would put off prospective buyers, but I was burying my head in the sand. It might delay things, but it wouldn’t stop me losing the house. Plus, I knew I had to show it in the best possible light to ensure offers were as close to the asking price as possible.
Strangers wandering around, looking in every cupboard, judging every corner of my home made me anxious. I was relieved when Jonathan said he’d given Martin’s a key so they could come while we were at work and school. At least I wouldn’t have to show buyers around, but it did mean keeping on top of the housework every day, so the place looked presentable. It was another thing to add to my already overflowing list.
At least I had the date with Mike to look forward to. I was excited to be out of the house, to take my mind off everything that had been going on. A couple hours’ break from the constant worry that life was a precarious house of cards, ready to topple if I made one tiny misstep.
Claire text wishing me good luck and promised to come over tomorrow for another walk, rain depending, suggesting we could sweat out the alcohol from the night before and catch up on gossip.
I got in the shower, washed, shaved and moisturised everywhere before applying my make-up. Black winged eyeliner teamed with Claire’s lipstick made my eyes pop. Once I’d finished doing my face, I curled my hair into soft waves that brushed my shoulders. I looked in the mirror when I was dressed, pleased with what I saw as I twirled. I looked nice, trendy even, in my polka dot blouse and jeans.
I bravely snapped a selfie in the mirror and sent it to Claire.
Smokin’
She replied straight away, and I grinned.I’d decided to drive my car into town and get a cab back. There was a car park open twenty-four hours and it only cost two pounds fifty to leave your car there overnight. I could get Claire to drop me off tomorrow, or I could walk into town and pick my car up.
With an empty space in the pit of my stomach that was more about nerves than hunger, I made my way towards the restaurant. Zizzi’s was situated in a courtyard, opposite a pub, the Greyhound, and a Chinese restaurant. It wasn’t far from the car park and town was already bustling with revellers out to celebrate the end of the week.
As I approached the restaurant, at five to eight, already paranoid Mike wasn’t going to turn up and I’d be eating alone, I saw him. He was sat at a table by the window, engrossed in his phone, wearing a teal-coloured shirt open at the neck. A pint of beer stood already on the table, almost half the contents gone.
17
‘Hi,’ I said, arriving at the table.
Mike jumped up, he looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights before smiling broadly.
‘Hello,’ he said, taking me by the elbow and leaning in to kiss me on the cheek. He moved around the table, pulling out my chair, and I sat awkwardly, catching my heel on the leg. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had done that. I brushed my fingers through my hair and pointed towards his beer.
‘Been here long?’
‘I was a bit early, yeah,’ he said, clearing his throat and returning to his seat.
I forced my shoulders back. Relax, you’ll be fine.
‘Did you get a cab?’ he asked.
‘No, I parked over in Bryerly Way, the car park there. I’m going to leave it there though and get a cab home. Did you drive?’
‘Nah, I jumped in a cab. Here, let’s get you a drink,’ Mike said, giving a nod to the waitress.
Within five minutes, I was no longer stumbling over my words or giggling nervously. I had a glass of red in hand and we eased into conversation. Before long, Mike and I talked like we were old friends. We discussed work at first, although he dismissed his job in IT as uninteresting, but by the time the waitress had asked for our main course choices, we’d briefly touched on our marriage breakdowns. Getting it out of the way like it was the elephant in the room.
‘He’s mentioned divorce, but I’ve had no papers yet,’ I admitted.
‘Is it fully over for you?’ he asked, his tone light.
I grimaced. ‘Definitely. I don’t even recognise the man he’s become.’
Mike leant back in his seat and took a sip of his beer.
‘My wife, Faye, was like that, a totally different person at the end.’
‘Well, here’s to new beginnings,’ I said, raising my glass to clink against his, not wanting to get too maudlin. It was supposed to be a date after all. Even as out of practice as I was, I knew it wasn’t good to linger on our exes.
The waitress came over with our food; Mike had chosen a meatball calzone and I had a prawn linguine. Zizzi’s food was delicious, and my stomach growled appreciatively. He’d stuck to beer, ordering another pint, but when I’d arrived he’d requested a bottle of Malbec for me when I’d asked for red wine. Before I knew it, half of the bottle was gone, our plates were empty, and the waitress had brought over the dessert menu. Time seemed to be moving too quickly and I wished I could slow it down. Our date was going so well, I was excited to escape to the bathroom and text Claire.
Having a great time! He’s lush.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! 😊
Her reply leaving me open to a world of possibilities.
When I got back to the table, Mike looked sheepish.
‘I ordered pistachio gelato, is that okay?’
‘Perfect.’ I grinned, glowing from the alcohol and the atmosphere.
‘I poured you another,’ he said, gesturing towards the wine bottle.
‘Thank you,’ I said, taking a sip. ‘Can I just say, I’ve had a lovely time tonight. My first ever experience of Hinge and it wasn’t hideous,’ I laughed.
‘I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere,’ Mike cracked, his teeth almost dazzling.
My gaze lingered on his mouth, the urge to press my lips to his consuming me for a second before I forced myself to look away.
‘Where did you go just then?’ he asked. I must have glazed over.
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ I teased, draining my glass.
Our gelato arrived with two spoons, and we shared it, leant over the table, our heads close. Mike smelled like cedar, clean and fresh. I breathed him in, enjoying the cold gelato on my tongue and the feel of it sliding down my throat.
I asked Mike about his hobbies, the photos he’d posted on Hinge, and he talked animatedly about being out on the water, driving to Amberley and kayaking along the river. He tried to go once a week, usually with his son, Charlie, who was slightly older than the twins. Charlie lived with his mother, but Mike saw him every week. It saddened me my twins were going to become another statistic of a broken home.
‘One for the road?’ Mike asked, gesturing towards my empty glass. There was at least another in the bottle, but I didn’t fancy it. Since finishing eating, my mouth was dry, tongue thick and furry. Bloated from the pasta, my jeans dug annoyingly into my waist.
‘Umm, water instead, I think.’ I lifted the jug without realising how heavy it was and water sloped over the table.
Mike intervened and poured for me. Had I drank that much? Normally a bottle of wine would be fine, I’d easily drink one and be merry but not drunk.
Blinking rapidly, the restaurant seemed to tilt, the waiters walking at a funny angle. I squeezed my eyes shut, vaguely registering Mike asking for the bill.
‘I think I may have had a bit too much to drink,’ I said quietly, hearing my speech slur and wishing the world would stop moving.
