One Plus One: A Novel (26 page)

Nicky’s face didn’t show anything. Tanzie knew he was thinking about money.

And then Mr. Nicholls, who had said barely anything all morning, walked around the car, opened the door, and said, “Yes. Well, I’ve been thinking about that. And we’re going to make a little detour.”

T
hey were a muted little group in the car on the way home. Even Norman no longer whined, as if he had accepted that this car was now his home. The whole time Jess had planned the trip, through the strange, frenetic few days of traveling, she hadn’t really imagined any further than getting Tanzie to the Olympiad. She would get her there, Tanzie would sit the test, and everything would be okay. She hadn’t given a thought to the possibility that the entire trip might take three days longer than she had planned. Or that she would be left with precisely £13.81 in cash to her name and a bank card that she was too frightened to feed into a cashpoint machine in case it didn’t come back.

Jess mentioned none of this to Ed, who was silent, his gaze trained on the road ahead.

Ed.
Jess repeated his name silently in her head until it ceased to have any real meaning. When he smiled, Jess couldn’t help smiling. When his face turned sad, something inside her broke a little. She watched him with her children, the easy way in which he admired some photograph Nicky had taken on his phone, the serious manner in which he considered a passing comment of Tanzie’s—the kind of comment that would have caused Marty to roll his eyes to heaven—and she wished he had been in their lives long ago. When they were alone and he held her close to him, his palm resting with a hint of possession on Jess’s thigh, his breath soft in her ear, she felt with a quiet certainty that it would all be okay. It wasn’t that Ed would make it okay—he had his own problems to deal with—but somehow the sum of them added up to something better.
They
would make it okay.

Because she wanted Ed Nicholls. She wanted to wrap her legs around him in the dark and feel him inside her, to buck against him as he held her. She wanted the sweat and the pull and the solidity of him, his mouth on hers, his eyes on hers. They drove and she recalled the previous two nights in hot, dreamy fragments, his hands, his mouth, the way he had to stifle her when she came so that they wouldn’t wake the children, and it was all she could do not to reach across and bury her face in his neck, to slide her hands up the back of his T-shirt for the sheer pleasure of it.

She had spent so long thinking only about the children, about work and bills and money. Now her head was full of him. When he turned to her, she blushed. When he said her name, she heard it as a murmur, spoken in the dark. When he handed her coffee, the brief touch of his fingers sent an electric pulse fizzing through her. She liked it when she felt his eyes settle on her, and she wondered what he was thinking.

Jess had no idea how to communicate any of this to him. She had been so young when she met Marty, and apart from one night in the Feathers with Liam Stubbs’s hands up her shirt, she had never had even the beginnings of a relationship with anyone else.

Jess Thomas had not been on an actual date since school. It made her sound ridiculous, even to herself. She had to make him understand that he had changed everything.

“We’ll keep going to Nottingham, if you guys are all okay,” he said, turning to look at her. He still had the faintest bruise on the side of his nose. “We’ll pitch up somewhere late. That way we’ll make it home in one run on Thursday.”

And then what?
Jess wanted to ask. But she put her feet up on the dashboard, and said, “Sounds good.”

—

They stopped for lunch at a service station. The children had given up asking if there was any chance they could eat anything but sandwiches, and now eyed the fast-food joints and upmarket coffee shops
with something close to indifference. They unfolded themselves and paused to stretch.

“How about sausage rolls?” said Ed, pointing toward a concession. “Coffee and hot sausage rolls. Or Cornish pasties. My treat. Come on.”

Jess looked at him.

“Come on, you food Nazi. We’ll eat some fruit afterward.”

“You’re not afraid? After that kebab?”

His hand was above his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun so that he could see her better. “I’ve decided I like living dangerously.”

He had come to her the previous night, after Nicky, who had been tapping silently away at Ed’s laptop in the corner of the room, had finally gone to bed. She had felt like a teenager sitting there on the sofa opposite him, pretending to watch the television, waiting. But when Nicky sloped off, Ed had opened up the laptop rather than moving straight to her.

“What’s he doing?” she had said, as Ed peered at the screen.

“Creative writing,” he said.

“Not gaming? No guns? No explosions?”

“Nothing.”

“He sleeps,” she had whispered. “He has slept every night we’ve been away. Without a spliff.”

“Good for him. I feel like I haven’t slept for several years.”

He seemed to have aged a decade in the short time they had been away. And then he had reached out a hand to her and pulled her into him. “So,” he had said softly, “Jessica Rae Thomas. Are you going to let me get some sleep tonight?”

She studied his lower lip, absorbing the feel of his hand on her hip. Feeling suddenly joyous. “No,” she said.

“Excellent answer.”

—

Now they changed direction, walking away from the mini-mart, weaving their way through clumps of disgruntled travelers looking
for cashpoint machines or overcrowded toilets. Jess tried not to look as delighted as she felt at the thought of not making another round of sandwiches. She could smell the buttery pastry of the hot pies from yards away.

The children, clutching a handful of notes and Ed’s instructions, disappeared into the long queue inside the shop. He walked back toward her, so that they were shielded from them by the crowds of people.

“What are you doing?”

“Just looking.” Every time he stood close to her Jess felt like she was a few degrees warmer than she should have been.

“Looking?”

“I find it impossible being close to you.” His lips were inches from her ear, his voice a low rumble through her skin.

Jess felt her skin prickle. “What?”

“I just imagine myself doing filthy things to you. Pretty much the whole time. Completely inappropriate things.”

He took hold of the front of her jeans and pulled her to him. Jess drew back a little, craning her neck to make sure they were out of sight. “That’s what you were thinking about? While you were driving? All that time while you weren’t speaking?”

“Yup.” He glanced behind her toward the shop. “Well, that and food.”

“My two favorite things, right there.”

His fingers traced the bare skin underneath her top. Her stomach tensed pleasurably. Her legs had become oddly weak. She had never wanted Marty like she wanted Ed.

“Apart from sandwiches.”

“Let’s not talk about sandwiches. Ever again.”

And then he placed the flat of his hand on the small of her back, so that they were as close as they could decently be. “I know I shouldn’t be,” he murmured, “but I woke up really happy.” His face scanned hers. “I mean, like, really, stupidly happy. Like even though
my whole life is a disaster, I just . . . I feel okay. I look at you, and I feel okay.”

A great fat lump had risen in her throat. “Me, too,” she whispered.

He squinted against the sun, trying to gauge her expression. “So I’m not . . . just a horse?”

“You are so not a horse. Well, in the nicest way I could say that you were—”

He dropped his head and kissed her. He kissed her and it was a kiss of utter certainty, the kind of kiss during which monarchs die and whole continents fall without your even noticing. When Jess extricated herself, it was only because she didn’t want the children to see her lose the ability to stand.

“They’re coming,” he said.

Jess found herself staring at him goofily.

“Trouble.” He glanced back at her as they approached, bearing their paper bags aloft. “That’s what my dad said.”

“Like you hadn’t worked that one out by yourself.” She held back, watching Ed chat to Nicky, the opening of paper bags as Nicky revealed what they’d chosen, waiting for the color on her cheeks to fade. She felt the sun on her skin, heard birdsong over people talking, revving cars, smelled petrol fumes and hot pastry, and the words echoed through her head, unbidden: this is what happiness feels like.

They set off slowly back to the car, faces already buried in paper bags. Tanzie walked a few paces ahead, her skinny legs kicking the ground listlessly as she walked, and it was then that Jess noticed something was missing.

“Tanze? Where are your maths books?”

She didn’t turn around. “I left them at Dad’s.”

“Oh. Do you want me to call him?” She fumbled in her bag for her mobile phone. “I’ll get him to pop them straight in the post. They’ll probably arrive back before we do.”

“No,” she said. She inclined her head slightly toward her, but not quite meeting Jess’s eye. “Thank you.”

Nicky’s eyes slid to Jess and back to his sister. And something heavy settled in her stomach.

—

By the time they reached their final overnight stop, it was almost nine o’clock and they were drooping. The children, who had been snacking on biscuits and sweets for most of the last leg of the journey, were exhausted and cranky, and headed straight upstairs to examine the sleeping arrangements. Norman followed behind them, and then Ed with the bags.

The hotel was vast and white and expensive looking, the kind of place Mrs. Ritter might have shown Jess on her camera phone and she and Nathalie would have sighed about afterward. Ed had booked it over the phone and when Jess had started to protest about the cost, there was a slight edge to his voice: “We’re all tired, Jess. And my next bed may be at Her Majesty’s Pleasure. Let’s just stay somewhere nice tonight, okay?”

Three interlocking rooms in a corridor seemed to double as an annex to the main hotel. “My own room.” Nicky sighed with relief as he unlocked number twenty-three. He lowered his voice as Jess pushed open the door. “I love her and everything, but you have no idea how much the Titch snores.”

“Norman will like this,” said Tanzie, as Jess opened the door to room twenty-four. The dog, as if in agreement, immediately flopped down at the side of the bed. “I don’t mind sharing with Nicky, Mum, but he really does snore badly.”

Neither of them seemed to question where Jess would be sleeping. She couldn’t work out whether they knew and didn’t mind, or whether they just assumed either she or Ed was still sleeping in the car.

Nicky borrowed Ed’s laptop. Tanzie worked out how to operate the remote control for her television, and said she would watch one
program, then go to sleep. She wouldn’t talk about the missing maths books. She actually said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jess didn’t think Tanzie had ever said those words to her.

“Just because something doesn’t work out once, sweetheart, doesn’t mean you can’t try again,” she said, laying out Tanzie’s pajamas on her bed.

Tanzie’s expression seemed to contain a knowledge that hadn’t been there before. And her next words broke Jess’s heart. “I think it’s best if I just work with what we’ve got, Mum.”

—

“What do I do?”

“Nothing. She’s just had enough for now. You can’t blame her.” Ed dropped the bags in the corner of the room. Jess sat on the side of the huge bed, trying to ignore her throbbing foot.

“But this isn’t like her. She loves maths. Always has. And now she’s acting like she doesn’t want anything to do with it.”

“It’s been two days, Jess. Just . . . let her be. She’ll work it out.”

“You’re so sure.”

“They’re smart kids.” He walked over to the switch and turned the lights down, looking up at them until he’d got it dark enough. “Like their mother. But just because you bounce back like a rubber ball, it doesn’t mean they always will.”

She looked at him.

“That’s not a criticism. I just think if you give her some time to decompress, she’ll be okay. She is who she is. I can’t see that changing.”

He pulled his T-shirt over his head in a fluid motion and dropped it onto a chair. Her thoughts muddled immediately. Jess couldn’t see his bare torso without wanting to touch it.

“How did you get so wise?” she said.

“Dunno. I guess it rubbed off.” He took two steps toward her, and then he knelt down and pulled off her flip-flops, removing the one on her injured foot with extra care. “How’s it feeling?”

“Sore. But okay.”

He reached for her top. He unzipped it slowly and without asking, his eyes fixed on the skin it exposed. He seemed almost distant then, as if his thoughts were on her, yet miles away. The zip caught near the end, and she took it from him gently, her hands over his, unhitching the two sides so that he could peel it from her shoulders. He stood there for a moment, just looking at her.

He unhooked her belt, then unzipped her jeans, his fingers measured and precise. She watched them and her heart began to pulse in her ears.

“It’s time, Jessica Rae Thomas, that someone looked after you.”

—

Edward Nicholls washed her hair, his legs around her waist, as she lay back against him in the oversized bath. He rinsed it gently, smoothing it and wiping her eyes with a facecloth to stop shampoo from getting into them. She went to do it herself, but he stopped her. Nobody had ever washed her hair, outside a hairdresser’s. It made her feel vulnerable and oddly emotional. When he was done, he lay in the steaming, scented water with his arms wrapped around her and kissed the tips of her ears. And then they agreed jointly that this had been quite enough romantic stuff, thank you; she felt him rise under her, and she swiveled, lowered herself onto him. And they fucked until the water sluiced out of the bath, and she couldn’t work out whether the pain of her foot was greater than her need to feel him inside her.

Sometime later, they lay half submerged, legs entwined. And they started to laugh. Because it was a cliché to fuck in a shower but it was ridiculous to do it in a bath, and it was even more ridiculous to be in this much trouble and yet this happy. Jess twisted so that she lay along the length of him, and draped her arms around his neck and pressed her wet chest to his, and she felt with utter certainty that she would never be as close to another human being again. She held his face in her hands and she kissed his jaw and his
poor bruised temple, and his lips, and told herself that whatever happened, she would always remember how this felt.