Lovestruck (11 page)

‘Listen, King’s Mount say if we’re interested in a
place we need to go for a tour as soon as possible and I don’t know when—’

‘Hey! Hey! Slow down.’ Jake burped loudly. ‘I have something for you!’

‘Oh?’ Rosie blinked as a bedside light went on. Jake was holding out a small black box. She took it and opened it. A pair of crystal earrings. Huge and blingy, they would have been perfect for Joan Collins attending an event on a Russian oligarch’s yacht.

‘Thank you,’ she said faintly.

‘I saw them in a shop window; I thought they’d be perfect for you. So I had the funniest evening.’ He plonked himself on to the bed, yanking off his socks. ‘I met up with Rich and he took me to a James Blade gig at the Union Chapel. It was hilarious. I saw Issy – remember Issy from drama school? She played second maid in that Spielberg Jane Austen film? Anyway, she was so off her tits she fell flat on her face and chipped a tooth.’

‘Brilliant,’ Rosie said unenthusiastically.

‘What’s up with you?’

‘Oh nothing.’ She rolled over so he couldn’t see her expression. ‘It’s just … sometimes I feel like such an idiot, hearing about your antics. When I’ve been stuck at home wiping bottoms and begging the boys to eat my macaroni cheese, while you’re out painting the town red. I never do that. I never say I’m just going for a quick drink and then end up crashing in at four.’

‘You could. Why don’t you? I’d babysit. Or Dizzy.
We could get her to come in the morning too, to get the boys up. Or better, get Mum to stay over. She’d love it.’

Rosie sighed: ‘That’s not the point.’ She couldn’t articulate that she didn’t actually want to go crazy in Soho. She hadn’t before having the boys and now she had to be a devoted mother, to prove history didn’t repeat itself. ‘What I want,’ she tried to explain, ‘is to
want
to stay out late. I want to go out and have fun, not just pretend to have fun while all the time I’m thinking about what to bake for coffee morning and wishing I could slip off. I want to be out partying, not even giving a thought to when I might come home. But I can’t do that. I can’t ever be free. And you can, you go out and you forget all about me and the boys and live in the moment and I can’t do that any more. I’m a mum. It’s like being in prison. I can’t ever escape my responsibilities.’

She stopped, shocked at this outburst, but Jake seemed not even to have noticed, sliding his hand up Rosie’s thigh and under her JoJoMaman Bébé cotton breastfeeding nightie. A perfectly good nightie. No need to bin it now those days were over.

‘
Jake
. I was talking to you!’

‘Rut like beasts first, talk later.’

‘Sex, sex, sex, it’s all you ever think about,’ Rosie said in her best Virgin Mandy in the
Life of Brian
voice.

‘Like you don’t,’ he teased, then seeing her expression sulkily said. ‘All right.’

Anger whooshed through Rosie like an avalanche.
This was his house, his children. Why did he make out it was such a big deal to have to discuss the nitty-gritty they entailed? Bloody Yolande, Rosie thought, for spoiling him so much that he thought everything would just come to him, for not understanding that effort was involved in creating a comfortable life. She exhaled as she reached for the print-out of David’s plans.

‘I don’t know what to tell him. It’s going to cost nearly five hundred grand, but then David does say he’ll be getting us nearly a hundred grand’s worth of discounts. I mean, we don’t need to do all of it but … So he’s suggesting a light fitting like this in our bathroom.’

She held up an image of a cluster of silver balls.

‘Gwyneth has one, apparently. But I’m not sure. I think it’s a bit naff. And he thinks we should have what he calls a “reading niche” on the second floor.’

‘What, a hole specially for reading? Sounds daft to me.’

‘I think so … though it could be cosy,’ Rosie added dubiously. ‘The boys might start loving books.’

‘They should love books anyway. But a cinema room. Yes! How cool will that be? And the swimming pool and gym, wicked. And an office for me. Dark wood panelling. Tobacco upholstery. Very
West Wing
.’

‘That’s not happening,’ Rosie said firmly. ‘I wanted that room for Nanna. David says put her upstairs, but he hasn’t grasped she’s an old lady. And the prices seem insane … Oh, and another thing is David says we need a gardener, even with the fake grass. Jake, are you
listening to me?’ His eyes had closed and his breathing was growing heavier.

‘Sorry, sorry. Today was just grim. Ellie was two hours late again. Simon’s starting to tear his hair out – what’s left of it. And, anyway, I can’t get that excited about the house – who knows, we may not be here for long. We may be moving to LA.’

‘We are not moving to LA. That is final and you know it.’ She paused for a moment, breathing heavily, her heart thrashing like a trapped bird under her nightie. ‘So I still need to get back to this guy. And also King’s Mount. And we need to set up a date with Bosey and Stella. I said next Thursday, is that OK?’

‘Next Thursday?’ Jake reached for his iPhone and squinted at the calendar. ‘No, not all right. Dinner with agents.’

‘Jake! You’re always having dinner with agents. This is your best friend. He hasn’t seen the house yet.’

‘But Bosey can come any time. Anyway, we’ll see them at Mum’s party. I won’t be missing that. More than my life’s worth.’

‘Of course not, mummy’s boy.’

She stopped, appalled. She’d always succeeded in keeping her true feelings about Yolande under wraps. But Jake seemed completely unbothered, merely squeezing her bottom hard.

‘What time is it?’ she snarled.

‘Not late. One.’

‘One! George will be up in
five hours
.’ Not so long ago
Rosie wouldn’t have cared. Once they would have stayed out until four, then had sex until dawn and she’d have made it into the office by nine – a bit shaky but nothing a couple of espressos couldn’t cure. Even post-children she’d survived hangovers with help of her best friend CBeebies babysitting the boys, while she dozed on the sofa. She hadn’t understood her friends who’d said they were too tired for sex. How could anyone be too tired for the best thing in the world? But now she was beginning to understand what they’d been talking about.

‘I’ll get up with the boys,’ he promised.

‘Really?’ Rosie was suspicious. ‘You’ll
definitely
get up with them?’

‘Of course. Might even take them rambling in the Essex woodlands.’

‘Oh, shut up.’

She knew that when she came down, the kitchen would be wrecked, the boys would have eaten fifteen bowls of Cheerios and be dressed in nothing but their oldest underwear and watching a horror DVD. But for a couple of bonus hours in bed, it’d be worth it. She reached for him, smiling, relieved things were nearly back to normal. And once they started it was as good as ever, even though Rosie’s mind continued to wander all over the place, like a drunk in a go-kart, as she assessed David Allen Robertson’s endless options.

Jake was caressing her. ‘Take your nightie off,’ he begged.

‘Do I have to?’

‘I
want to feel you naked.’

But if I take it off I’ll have to put it on again in a minute and that would be such a waste of time
. ‘I like it like this,’ she tried.

‘Please.’

She compromised by pulling it up round her neck, where it nestled like a snood worn by Pepsi and Shirlie in the eighties. She moved on top of him.

‘Grab my balls,’ Jake groaned.

‘Say please,’ Rosie retorted automatically. Her attention had been far away on the pros and cons of King’s Mount and a cinema room.

He stopped. ‘What?’

‘Just joking,’ Rosie said hastily.

Jake was moving faster now, so she did too, but fantasizing all the while not about orgasms but about her lie-in.

My Favourite Places by Jake Perry
,
London Living Magazine

Hatha Yoga Institute, London E19

Yoga keeps me sane. This place has good teachers and is in a beautiful building with large windows overlooking a park. When the morning light floods in you could be in California
.

Help Gallery, London E2

I love to wander over here every so often and pick up a piece of original jewellery for my wife
.

The Rectory Hotel, Tetbury-upon-Stowe

Before children, this used to be a top weekend retreat. Gorgeous gardens, great food and service, and bracing country walks. Also a great spa, my wife tells me
.

Halepi, London SW18

The best Greek restaurant I’ve eaten in – and, luckily, not too far from us. Earthy and basic, with big fat radishes dipped in baba ganoush and tabbouleh. It’s delicious, inexpensive and near Wimbledon Common for a long walk afterwards
.

Anahi, Paris

Whenever I’m in Paris I eat at this tiny restaurant on Rue Volta. It has a fabulous laid-back vibe and they treat me like a local
.

Milo and Olive, Santa Monica, Los Angeles

Simply the best pizza in LA, but possibly in the world too. I love a relaxed lunch there when I’m visiting Hollywood
.

Made by Bob, Cirencester

This is near where I grew up in the Cotswolds. Cirencester has quirky open-air and covered markets, and this place in the Corn Hall is perfect for a simple, tasty lunch
.

It was Sunday lunchtime when the car pulled up in the small driveway of Yolande and Rupert’s sprawling half-timbered house, which was set down a pretty Cotswolds lane. George tumbled out, as ever covered in vomit. Jake’s sister Becki, in a slightly too short red party dress and high heels, was standing in the doorway, tapping at her watch.

‘What time do you call this? Mum won’t allow us to pile into the buffet until the guest of honour is here and the children are starving.’ Even though Becki’s children were twelve, ten, nine and five, they still adhered more or less precisely to the Gina Ford routines of their babyhood, with Becki convinced the sky would collapse if there was more than a twenty-minute deviation from lunch at twelve thirty, tea at six, lights out at eight thirty and so on.

‘Sorry, George was sick and …’ Rosie was keen to ignore her sister-in-law and chuck his stinking clothes in the washing machine.

Becki was shaking her head, delighted at an immediate chance to display her amazing maternal skills. ‘Forgotten to bring a change for him, have you? Never
mind. Auntie Becki has some clothes of your cousin Joe’s that you can wear.’

‘Joe!’ cried George in ecstasy. Both boys hero-worshipped their five-year-old cousin.

‘Thank you, Becki,’ said Rosie abjectly. She’d long learned that complete humility was the only way forward with her sister-in-law. Loud strains of jazz floated through the air. ‘There’s a band!’

Becki nodded disapprovingly. ‘Mum’s really gone to town. We’ll all go out and take a look in a minute. But first, upstairs, Georgie! Auntie Becki will get you washed and tidy.’

‘I wish I was as organized as you, Becki.’

‘Well, I do have some experience in this field, you know. Having four of the little monkeys. Ha ha.’

George went upstairs with his aunt. Rosie followed Jake round the side of the house into the back garden, which was completely covered with a huge white marquee. Inside, the entire village was clinking glasses and bellowing at each other over the noise of a saxophone and a voluptuous lady crooning ‘Moon River’.

This must have cost Yolande and Rupert a fortune, thought Rosie. They were supposed to be trying to economize, to make up the shortfall in their pensions after the Disastrous Investment. Rosie wondered how much of a contribution she and Jake had made towards the party, then stopped herself. It was Jake’s money. If he’d wanted to help his parents throw a party, then why not?

Where
was Jake? Aha, of course, over there surrounded by menopausal women in Marks and Spencer Autograph, hooting with laughter at his every utterance. Yolande was in the far corner in a lemon trouser suit issuing orders to a petrified-looking uniformed waitress behind a groaning buffet table. Rupert was …

‘Hey, Rosie!’

‘Bosey!’ She kissed her husband’s best friend. ‘How brilliant that you made it!’ She waved a little gingerly at the small woman with her hair in bunches standing behind him. Her arms were folded over her tiny chest, and she was in a flimsy sundress in a – no, yes – Hello Kitty! pattern. Well, if you worked in a tax office you needed to kick back somehow. ‘Hi, Stella. How are you?’

‘Fine, thanks,’ said Stella crisply.

‘Good. Good.’ Rosie bent to kiss Stella on the cheek. Something about Bosey’s latest girlfriend always made her uncomfortable. Partly it was because she was so dainty she made Rosie feel like a clodhopping giant, partly it was because she was so young, and partly it was because Bosey’s girlfriends always thought they’d found ‘The One’ only to be dumped two years in, and Rosie could no longer be bothered investing any serious energy in getting to know them. ‘How lovely to see you both.’

‘Finally,’ Stella said sweetly.

‘God, I know. Sorry. Jake’s been so busy rehearsing, he’s been terrible …’

‘Gwaaargh!’
cried George, rushing over dressed head to toe in Joe’s immaculately ironed clothes and with a tiger mask covering his face, no doubt something Becki had created with her children during one of their craft afternoons. ‘Gwaargh! I’m a fierce, scary
beast
.’

‘Oh, God, no!’ yelled Bosey, cowering in mock fright. ‘Don’t eat me.’

George bellowed with laughter. ‘I’m gonna
kill
you.’

Stella stood there, arms still folded, lips pursed. ‘Shame we haven’t made it round to your new residence,’ she said. ‘We hear we could fit our flat into your downstairs toilet, didn’t we, Edward?’

‘Edward! So that’s your real name!’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘I was trying to remember.’

Stella looked puzzled, while Bosey chuckled as George bounced on his back. ‘Yup, all we old Cartonians have to change our names; it’s the law of the land. Hence Mr Stooks Perry. Ah, speak of the devil.’

They all turned as Jake advanced, holding out a hand to Bosey. ‘All right, maaaate!
Ringa pakia
.’ He bent down and slapped his hands against his thighs.

‘
Uma tiraha
.’ Bosey stood up and thrust out his chest.

‘
Ka mate! Ka mate! Ka ora! Ka ora!
’ Delightedly George danced around their feet.

‘What are you two like?’ Stella sighed.

‘What are you like, mate?’ sniggered Bosey. ‘ “My favourite restaurant is in Paris; they treat me like a friend.” KFC Paris, would that be?’

‘Oh,
is that the “My Favourite Places” article?’ Jake asked. ‘Christy told me what to say. Like I’d have a favourite place to eat in Paris if it bit me in the arse.’

‘How many bedrooms did you say your new house has?’ Stella asked Rosie.

‘I didn’t, but six,’ Rosie apologized. ‘But Jake’s family do come to stay a lot – well, I mean, they haven’t so far, but they probably will.’

‘Don’t see what’s wrong with a futon in the lounge.’ Stella twisted one of her pink sparkly hair bobbles. ‘So I suppose you’ve heard what’s happened to Edward?’

‘No, what?’

‘Well, he’s only gone and lost his job.’

‘Oh no! How awful.’

‘Mmm.’ Stella took a glass of champagne from a passing tray. ‘It’s very difficult,’ she added as Bosey galloped up to them with an ecstatic George on his back. ‘Giddy-up, giddy-up, horsey! Wahey!’

‘Sorry to hear your news, Bose— er, Edward,’ Rosie said. She turned to Jake. ‘Bosey’s lost his job.’

‘Oh, mate.’

‘Well, these things happen.’ Bosey shrugged. ‘Another one’ll be along in a minute. Like buses. Though it’s not a great time for IT sales at the minute.’

‘Suppose another job doesn’t come along, Edward?’ said Stella. ‘Then what will we do?’

‘Something will.’ Bosey looked faintly annoyed now. ‘Don’t go on about it, bunny-boo.’

‘It just seems so unfair,’ Stella said, popping a canapé
between her pink lips. ‘That you can work for years at your job and one day – whoosh – it’s gone, like that. Whereas other people get all this money for learning a few lines and saying them on telly.’

‘Anything I can do to help, mate,’ Jake said awkwardly.

Stella snorted. ‘Are you suggesting Edward becomes your driver or something?’

‘Fucking—’ Jake stopped, as Rosie glared at him. ‘I mean, I hope not, given the amount of points on his licence.’

‘I’m clean at the moment,’ Bosey beamed, forking a whole roast potato into his mouth. ‘So what about you, Perry? Still hanging out with Ricky Gervais?’

‘I don’t hang out with him. I had a drink with him once.’

‘And several other people,’ Rosie interjected.

‘But you couldn’t make it to Bundle’s stag. He was well gutted.’

‘I would have loved to go to his stag, but I was filming in Liverpool that weekend. I couldn’t get out of it.’

‘Hey, guys!’ It was Fraser. Tubbier than Rosie remembered him and with his former goatee now wispily brushing his knees.

‘Frase!’ exclaimed her husband, slapping his brother on the back. ‘You look like a hillbilly. Where’s your bloodhound and your trailer?’

‘I’m entering a lot of beard competitions,’ said Fraser in his pseudo-American accent. ‘I’ll show you some pictures.’

Rupert
was approaching, slim and smiling in a pale grey suit. ‘How wonderful! All my family together.’

‘Great to be here, Dad,’ said Jake, as a soft but firm voice behind them suddenly said: ‘Hello!’

‘Christy! I’d forgotten you were coming,’ said Rosie.

‘Charming,’ Christy laughed. ‘I texted you to say I was on my way. Didn’t you see?’ Before Rosie could reply that her phone was in her bag, she stepped forward and shook hands with Rupert. ‘Hello. Christy Papadopolous. I’m Jake’s agent. I remember you from the wedding … a long time ago now.’

‘Oh yes, hello, Christy.’ Rupert did have a very nice smile. ‘How kind of you to come all this way.’

‘All right now?’ asked Becki in Rosie’s ear. ‘We sorted little George. I know it’s hard to be organized but I would recommend you pack a going-out bag as soon as you get home and keep it near the front door. Then when you next go out it’s there and waiting for you. No hurry. No panics.’

‘Brilliant, thanks, Becki. I’ll do that. Thank you.’

‘Sorted out Toby’s school yet?’

Oh, not you too
. Though inevitably Becki would ask a question like that. ‘We’re hoping a place will come up at the local school, but it’s getting a bit close to the deadline now, so we’re looking at a prep school next week.’

‘I see.’ Becki pursed her lips.

‘You went to a private school, Becki.’

‘I know. But … Perry just has it all now, doesn’t he?’
She glanced at Rosie slyly. ‘Have you a lovely holiday booked?’

‘No. We can’t go anywhere because of the play.’

‘Jessica was saying it’s her life’s dream to go to France for her holiday, but we can’t afford it. What with four children and both of us working for the state. It’s tough.’

‘Yes, I can imagine.’ What was Rosie supposed to do, offer to pay for their holiday? That was down to Jake. One of the best things about suddenly having money was being able to share it with loved ones, but she wanted it to be in the form of gifts; blatant demands like this left a sour taste. Happily they were interrupted by a fork tinging on a glass. The jazz instantly stopped and the chattering ceased, as Yolande climbed on to a little stool.

‘So, everybody, thank you so much for coming today. The weather’s been on our side and I am honoured to share my home with you on the day we welcome our son Fraser back to the UK – at least, temporarily. And also …’ she continued, as heads turned to peer at Fraser ‘… many of you have noticed a familiar face on the goggle-box recently. He was born and brought up in this little village and it’s an honour to have him back home with us. His name was Perry Jakes, now it’s Jake Perry …’ Everyone laughed at this as if Yolande were Woody Allen. ‘He’s become very recognizable recently, but it’s taken years of hard work and dedication, so
we’re all really proud of Perry. Or Jake. Whichever. Here’s to Jake Perry.’

At the applause and cries of ‘Jake!’ and ‘Perry!’ Jake pretended to look bashful. Rosie looked at Becki, who was standing expectantly, clearly waiting for her turn in the spotlight. But Yolande had stepped down from her stool and been swallowed up in a crowd of envious neighbours. Rosie was horrified. It was always plain that Yolande preferred boys to girls, but still this was ludicrous.

Suddenly a glass tinged again. Rupert had mounted the stool. ‘And, of course, as her father, it’s up to me to mention how incredibly proud we are of our lovely daughter, Becki, who does such wonderful work teaching the next generation – really the most important job in the world. Becki, you’re a star.’

‘Becki!’ everyone roared.

‘Really, it’s nothing, what I do,’ Becki said loudly. ‘I feel very privileged to help shape the next generation.’

Guilt poured over Rosie. When they’d first met she’d hoped Becki would be the sister she’d always yearned for, but she’d quickly realized her sister-in-law had far too much on her plate to develop any kind of close relationship. But perhaps now they could fix this.

‘Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?’ she said to Becki.

‘Unfortunately. Another year gone in the blink of an eye. Where’s it all disappeared to?’

‘Well, I had a thought. Maybe you and I could go
away on a girls’ weekend to a posh hotel. With a spa. I’d treat you, of course,’ she added hastily as a confused expression passed over Becki’s face.

‘But what about the kids?’

‘They could cope without us. Dave can take charge of your lot and Jake of mine.’

‘Huh. Last time I left Dave in charge, they ended up going to Pizza Hut for dinner.’ Becki made this sound as if her children had been made to eat dog meat. Becki was very keen on meals prepared from scratch. ‘And would Perry really have a clue?’

‘Think about it,’ Rosie said, now enamoured of the idea. ‘The children will survive. And we could have a great time. Just think – massages, jacuzzis, boozy dinners. Lie-ins.’

‘It’s tempting, certainly,’ Becki said, as Bosey approached her, arms outstretched. ‘But you need to put the children first.’

‘But a happy mum means happy kids,’ Rosie said, as her sister-in-law disappeared into a bear hug.