Still Thinking of You Read online

  They fell into a silence that Tash thought was uncomfortable and Rich didn’t notice. ‘Why did you ask if Emma was a window cleaner?’ asked Tash, suddenly.

  ‘Well, you said that she’d fallen off a ladder at work, and the first association I made was a window cleaner.’

  ‘Are any of your friends window cleaners?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then is it likely that my friends are?’ Tash seethed.

  ‘Well, your friends have more varied careers,’ said Rich.

  ‘All my friends are lawyers or doctors or management consultants. Yours are musicians, designers or writers.’ In fact, a number of Tash’s friends were still waiting for their big break and therefore technically waitresses, temps or unemployed. Rich chose not to spell this out explicitly. He picked up a copy of the Evening Standard that Tash had discarded earlier, turning to the TV listings and starting to scan read.

  ‘My friends might not be as –’ Tash wanted to say ‘dull’, but chose ‘predictable’ instead. Both she and Rich knew the difference in vocab was indiscernible. ‘My friends might not be as predictable in their career choices as your friends are, but their careers are still important.’

  ‘I never said they weren’t,’ pointed out Rich reasonably. The very reasonableness of his tone further irritated Tash.

  ‘You were being derogatory asking if Emma is a window cleaner.’

  ‘I did not say anything derogatory about window cleaning as a career choice, and if any of your friends had chosen that line of work – which they haven’t, I note – but if they had, then I would simply ask if they could do mine for less than thirty quid, which is what I currently pay and I consider to be a rip-off.’

  Rich’s reasonableness had slipped into sarcasm. Tash felt frustration and disappointment bubble over into ill-focused anger. She was surprised to acknowledge that she was hunting out a row. It would have been fortuitous if a telesales guy had called at that moment. Tash would have found a certain amount of satisfaction bawling down the telephone that, no, she wasn’t interested in health insurance, double glazing or completing a survey on her grocery-buying habits. But the phone stayed silent, so Tash chose to pick a row a little closer to home.

  ‘So you’d be comfortable with my friends working for you?’

  ‘And you’d be uncomfortable with that?’ Rich finally lowered the newspaper and met Tash’s eye. He’d encountered enough women to identify misdirected anger when he saw it. He also knew that this type of anger could be as fatal as the more justified and honed variety.

  ‘Fuck you, Rich,’ spat Tash. She was stunned to hear the words come out of her mouth. She rarely lost her temper and had never lost it with Rich. She loved Rich. Totally loved him. And this was not his fault or his problem. If she could have, she would have swallowed back the words, but that was never possible. She waited for Rich’s reaction.

  ‘No, I’m going to fuck you,’ he said, and then he leapt on Tash. He started to pour kisses on her face, her hands, her head, her body, anywhere he could make contact. Tash shrieked with laughter and relief that Rich had chosen to ride out the tide of her strop. Her bad mood instantly vanished. She giggled, twisted and turned, and pretended that she didn’t want to be drenched in his kisses, but they both knew that she now lived to be soused in his love. And he in hers.

  Slowly, slowly, Rich found a way to every inch of her body. He kissed her crossness away and sealed in reassurance. They discarded their clothes with ease and confidence, willingly exposing their bodies to one another and anticipating the great pleasures that were to come. Tash kissed Rich, too, and she stroked, sucked and licked him. When his cock was in her mouth she felt overwhelmed with the love she felt. As he moaned, slithered and shook, she began to feel ashamed of her earlier displays of irrational anger and her suppressed jealousy of his friends. Because it was when he slipped his glacial fingers inside her and touched her hot, drenched flesh that she was able to identify and admit that it was jealousy that she felt. She was envious and intimidated by their shared past. Yet at that moment when she dripped cum on to his hands – a piercing release that left her quivering and begging for him to climb inside her – at that moment she knew that no one had ever been so close to Rich, no one had ever shared so much.

  As Rich climbed on top of Tash, he took a moment to admire her. He’d slid inside many beautiful women in his time, but never, ever had his thrusts brought him such untold delight. He adored making her happy. He loved the glazed, half-crazed look he brought to her usually serene face as he pushed, grabbed and pulled at her. She yelped with pleasure and desire, and begged him not to stop, even though her hair was wet with sweat and stuck to her back, her tits were wet with his kisses and her thighs were wet with her own cum. When it was impossible for him to hold back a second more, he exploded in her. Showering her with confidence and contentment. Rich collapsed inelegantly on top of Tash and stayed, paralyzed, until his breathing calmed.

  For some moments there was silence between them. Tash listened to the sounds of the house. The printer, fridge and PlayStation quietly droned. The clock in the hall ticked softly, and Tash had left the radio on in the bedroom. She could just make out that it was the latest boy band crooning their latest predictable but palatable tune. She believed it was a cert as the Christmas number one.

  ‘What are you thinking, Tash?’ asked Rich.

  ‘I was wondering what will be number one when we get married and what music we’ll dance to at our fortieth wedding anniversary. What were you thinking?’

  ‘I was thinking that we should row more often if the making up is always that good,’ said Rich, and beneath him he felt Tash giggle.

  11. Ted’s Baby Sister, Jayne

  ‘Ted, it’s your sister.’

  Kate handed Ted the phone and silently prayed it wasn’t trouble, while preparing herself for the fact that it almost certainly was. Jayne never rang unless she was in trouble and, most specifically, in need of bailing out. Money, or a lift home at three in the morning because she was so drunk she couldn’t hail a cab, or someone to feed her cats, or someone to call her boss because she was pulling a sickie. Kate didn’t usually mind. That’s what families were for, helping one another. But sometimes it was just a little bit frustrating that Jayne was always the one being helped. Jayne was thirty, for goodness’ sake, not sixteen. It was time she stood on her own two feet. Kate and Ted had three children of their own. She didn’t have space for a fourth. Jayne consumed a black hole of time and emotional energy.

  Kate took a deep breath.

  She ought to be more charitable. In reality she had nothing to be sore about. Kate’s life was the type of life that invariably inspired jealousy. She had met the love of her life when she was eighteen and married him when she was twenty-three. She had been saved from the awful bed-hopping that just about all her friends seemed to have endured. There were no regrets in Kate and Ted’s marriage. No past encounters that seemed more attractive; no current flirtations that seemed more alluring. She had not settled for her husband, like so many brides seemed to, desperate for security, sacrificing passion. Kate had felt passionate about Ted and even now, fifteen years after their first encounter, she still thought he was the best man to walk the planet. The best for her.

  They had three beautiful, healthy, happy children. Her husband earned a telephone number as a salary, which afforded them a very privileged lifestyle. Kate’s life was perfect. It really was, and telling herself so was not an exercise in convincing herself all was perfect. It was more a case of reminding herself.

  Kate felt ashamed that she’d had mean thoughts about her sister-in-law. It wasn’t Jayne’s fault that she wasn’t as sorted as Kate was. Kate actually blamed her parents-in-law. They had brought Ted up with a stiff upper lip that was so well developed that he was in danger of getting lockjaw, and yet they had spoilt and indulged Jayne throughout her life. They expected nothing from her except a ‘good marriage’, by which they meant a family name as old as the
ir own and a bank account which was rather more substantial than their own. Ted’s family was in the difficult position of being formerly moneyed. Everyone assumed they were still loaded, but the extent of their ready cash was not great any more. Most of their dwindling income from their land went on maintaining the enormous family home. The rest was lavished on Jayne, who was showered with anything she wanted and everything she could possibly imagine needing, except the word ‘no’. The family’s excessive indulgence had left her helpless, whereas Ted found it almost impossible to ask for help. It made Kate cross.

  Kate sighed. She recognized that few people knew what they wanted out of life and therefore very few people knew when to call themselves happy or even lucky. As old-fashioned as it sounded, maybe what Jayne needed was a good man. Not necessarily a wealthy one, but a kind and decent man. Not that it seemed likely. She never seemed to hang on to the same chap for more than five minutes, which was odd because she was extremely pretty and intelligent, and one of the best flirts Kate had ever known.

  Kate listened to Ted’s sympathetic tones, and she started to piece together their conversation from the half she could hear. She did this while she gathered things together that needed to go into the day bag. They really didn’t have time for this now. The cab would be here soon. It was a good job that she’d checked their ski kit last night and that their cases were full, just waiting for her to add the last-minute toiletries.

  It was clear that Jayne had fallen out with yet another boyfriend. Kate couldn’t even remember the latest one’s name. She’d given up feigning even a polite interest. Had Ted packed his toothbrush? No, it didn’t appear so. Kate went to the bathroom cabinet and scrabbled around until she found a spare toothbrush, deodorant, shaving gel and razors. She knew if she didn’t check these things it would be her finding a chemist to buy replacements when they got to France. Where were the euros that they’d brought back from Barcelona last weekend? In the drawer where they kept their passports, probably. Kate dashed down two flights of stairs, found the euros and the passports, plus Ted’s sunglasses, then rushed back upstairs to their bedroom. Ted was still on the phone.

  For goodness sake, Ted. She wished he’d get a move on. They had such a lot to do. Going away for a week-long break took at least four weeks to organize, at least it seemed that way to Kate. She had to pack for the kids who were spending the weekend with Ted’s parents. She had to leave copious notes of instructions regarding food preferences, medical conditions, school runs, extracurricular activities and other invites from which Fleur, Elliot and Aurora benefited. Her mother had kindly offered to move into their house from Sunday teatime for the rest of the week. It was best for the children to be in their own home; their schedules ought not to be upset just because Kate and Ted were having a week away.

  A week away without the children. Kate felt a confusing mixture of emotions, something between ecstatic and terrified. She and Ted hadn’t been on holiday alone together for more than seven years. Imagine, they could go to restaurants that didn’t serve food in colourful cardboard boxes. They could stay out late at night, without having to worry about interrupting sleep patterns. They could have sex at any time of the day.

  They could have sex.

  And it would be so much fun going away with the old uni crowd. Mia, Rich, Jason and Lloyd. They’d had such good times together. Never a dull moment, always laughing and joking. Of course, they’d studied, too, but that wasn’t what it had been about. It had been about that sense of possibility. Future. Kate could feel eighteen again.

  And yet.

  She caught sight of a pile of discarded children’s clothes next to the wash basket (not quite in the wash basket – her constant nagging hadn’t achieved that goal). The clothes were grubby, sticky, soiled with food and mud and child sweat. Kate felt her heart contract with love. Suddenly she didn’t want to leave them. She didn’t want to go skiing at all. She’d much rather stay with the children, ensure that the correct shoes or Wellington boots went on the right feet every morning, that hats and scarves were duly donned. It was simple and safe and comforting.

  However many notes she wrote, however competent her mother was, it still felt as though she was abandoning the children. Kate didn’t think couples ought to have children if their sole raison d’être then became getting away from them. She had friends that didn’t work, but still had au pairs to do the washing and cleaning, and nannies to do the loving. Not Kate. Kate prided herself on the fact that she had brought her children up, not hired help, even though they could easily have afforded an army of nannies, baby-sitters, after-school carers and au pairs. Personally, Kate found the concept obscene.

  Although obviously she could see the attraction. Of course she could, especially on a particularly gruelling day when London traffic jams conspired to make her late for dropping the children off at school. ‘Hurry, Mummy. I’ll be in trouble,’ the panicked Fleur would cry. Kate would pray that the traffic started to roll again before poor Fleur worked herself into an inconsolable state. Such a sensitive child, plagued with asthma and allergies. Kate could appreciate that hired help might ease the days when Fleur and Elliot did arrive at school on time, but had the wrong kit packed in their bags – a recorder instead of a French vocabulary book, football boots instead of tennis shoes – social disgrace. No doubt a nanny would have made things easier on days when Aurora had suffered from cutting her teeth, or now when she was battling with the frustration of being a ‘terrible two’. If only Kate’s toddlers were terrible for a single year – that hadn’t been her experience. On days when the children fought, squealed and bickered their way through breakfast to teatime, and finally landed as exhausted, resentful little bundles into their beds and cots. On days like that Kate could clearly see the attraction of a nanny.

  Maybe Ted was right and a holiday would do her good.

  She checked the clock on the bedroom wall. They’d be late if they weren’t careful.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Ted as he re-emerged from the hall and into the bedroom.

  ‘What is it?’ Kate only just resisted adding ‘now’.

  ‘Jayne’s split up with her latest chap.’

  ‘Oh, thought as much. What was his name again?’

  ‘Rob, or Rod, or Bob. I lose track.’

  Kate put her arms around her husband and hugged him. She marvelled at how alike they were. She wasn’t the only one who was fed up with the constant SOS signals that came from Jayne. Poor old Ted, the eternal big bruv. It wasn’t an easy role to be cast in, not when he had a female version of Peter Pan as his sister. Kate suddenly felt sorry for him.

  ‘She’ll get over it.’

  ‘No doubt. But this time she is acting pretty scarily. She seemed really agitated and unhappy. A bit desperate. She asked if she could come away with us to Rich’s wedding. I can’t even remember mentioning the wedding to her.’

  Kate wondered if Ted truly lived on another planet. ‘She’s talked of nothing else for weeks,’ muttered Kate. She zipped up the day bag and turned back to Ted expectantly; she was ready. She sighed inwardly when she noticed that Ted still needed to change his shirt. He had egg from breakfast on the left-hand side pocket. She’d told him about that three times. Ted looked worried. She knew that Jayne could be extremely manipulative. The chances were that she didn’t even care about this split with Bob, or Rob, or Rod, or whomever; she simply fancied a holiday. It was obvious to Kate that Jayne had been angling for an invite for a while. She was always trying to muscle in on their crowd, forever inviting herself to parties and even intimate dinners. Kate wished she’d find some friends of her own. Ted would have a terrible time now if they went without her. He’d spend all his time worrying about her.

  ‘Jayne kept insisting that a week on the slopes was just what she needed. Hedonistic fun, she said. I told her that it was terrible form inviting oneself somewhere, especially to a wedding party, but she was most insistent. Said she couldn’t face being on her own. I told her it was impossible. That we
were setting off any minute now, but –’

  Reluctantly, Kate suggested, ‘Maybe she could come with us.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Ted looked eager; this was clearly what he wanted to hear.

  ‘Rich and Natasha are very laid-back. They probably wouldn’t mind if one more person joined the party. It’ll even up the numbers a bit again. There are only three girls, and there are four chaps. The only one of Natasha’s friends that did accept the invite had an accident and had to pull out.’ Kate had already told Ted this but through experience she knew she’d probably have to tell him another two times before he computed the information. ‘In fact, isn’t Jason single at the moment?’

  Kate was warming, already hatching a plot. Ted understood it immediately, but was unsure as to whether he thought it was a good one. Was Jason a suitable beau for his little sister? Jason was a bit of a scoundrel, which made for very entertaining anecdotes but his sister…

  ‘I’ll call Natasha and see if I can clear it. Jayne’s met Mia and all the boys quite a few times, hasn’t she? She works in the same company as Rich, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. But it’s a big place. I don’t think they’ve actually come across one another at work. Neither of them has ever said so.’

  ‘My point is she has things in common. She’ll fit in.’

  ‘Do you think it will be OK?’ Ted tried to put thoughts of Jason out of his head; surely Jayne wouldn’t look at him anyway. She did sound very upset; he wouldn’t be comfortable leaving her at home. Oh shit. This was the last thing he needed. As if he didn’t have enough to worry about.

  ‘I’ll call Natasha right now,’ Kate said, with more enthusiasm than she felt. She didn’t really want Jayne on the trip, but as Jayne always got what she wanted Kate might as well bend to the inevitability of the situation now. If she and Ted argued, they’d be late.

  Besides, it wasn’t just Jayne who needed a holiday; Ted definitely needed a holiday, too. He had been acting oddly recently. No ‘oddly’ was too strong a word – differently was probably a fairer description. It was nothing Kate could put her finger on. He was as kind and generous as ever. Perhaps not quite so attentive, just a tiny bit distracted. It wasn’t that he was working harder than usual. In fact, he really seemed to be making an effort to get home at a reasonable hour of late.