Over You (20 page)

Well, we could always bring them in for lunch another day,’ Nell said, glancing up at the chalked menu above the bar. ‘Mmm, and look at the puddings . . .’

‘I know, they’re to die for,’ Josie said. ‘Or to diet for, anyway,’ she added with a giggle. ‘Me and Pete always shared a sticky toffee pudding when we came in here. It is just the most calorifically sinful thing you could imagine, but—’

Josie stopped talking as Nell suddenly gave a squawk like a strangled chicken.

‘What?’ she asked, looking around.

Oh God. No. No!

He was there, Pete, standing at the bar with . . .

Josie swung her face away, not wanting to see.

Then she swung it straight back again,
desperate
to see.

It was her. Sabine. Had to be.

‘Oh fuck,’ she muttered. ‘Oh
shit
.’

‘Do you want to go?’ Nell asked, putting a hand on Josie’s arm.

Josie barely felt it. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Pete and . . . and
her
. What should she do? What should she do?

She could tip a pint over Pete’s head.

She could throw it in Sabine’s face.

She could creep away with Nell before they were spotted.

She could brazen it out, sit there boldly,
waiting
to be spotted.

She could go and introduce herself to Sabine, compare notes.
It doesn’t take him much to come, does it? Does that bother you? Have you noticed how spotty his back is yet?

‘Josie!’ Nell hissed. ‘Let’s go. Let’s get out of here!’

She was laughing, Sabine. She had shoulder-length dark hair, and dark lipstick. She was taller than Josie. Slimmer. She wore tight jeans and high-heeled sandals and a denim jacket. (Denim and denim. Not a good look. Hadn’t anyone ever told her you shouldn’t do that?) She was gazing up at Pete, smiling at him. Smiling a wide, lipsticked smile as if he were the funniest man alive.

Josie couldn’t help staring at her mouth, Sabine’s mouth. The things that mouth had done to Pete.
Her
husband!

Nell stood up. ‘Come on. Leave your drink,’ she pleaded. ‘Josie? Come on. Don’t torture yourself.’

They were ordering food, Josie noticed. Ordering food in The Eagle, just like she’d done with Pete over the years. God! Did the man have no originality?

She got to her feet unsteadily. She couldn’t stop herself Her legs were just walking without permission.

‘Josie!’ Nell squeaked from behind her. She sounded a long way away. ‘What are you
doing?

Josie walked right up to the bar, and stood between them. ‘Don’t forget to share the sticky toffee pudding,’ she said brightly, then turned to Sabine, who was staring at her in confusion. ‘It’s very good, you know. Enjoy your meal, both of you!’

And with that she turned on her heel and walked, head high, straight out of the pub.

‘Who was
that?
she dimly heard a woman’s
voice
saying.

She didn’t hear Pete’s reply. She was out in the cool evening air, feeling as if she was about to throw up and shaking uncontrollably.

‘Oh, babe.’ Nell had appeared beside her and was cuddling her, and walking her away from the pub. ‘Oh, darlin’, that must have been horrible.’

‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’ Josie said. ‘She looked young, too. Nice skin.’

‘Don’t,’ Nell implored. ‘Don’t torture yourself, Jose. What a nightmare! I can’t believe – of all the pubs we could have gone to . . . Shit. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you into coming out.’

‘Did you see the way she was looking at him?’ Josie said, still feeling dazed. ‘Like she loved him. Like she really fancied him. Like she thought he was just Mr Fantastic. Oh God!’

‘I know,’ Nell replied, miserably. ‘What do you want to do? Shall we go home?’

Josie sniffed, and stopped walking. They were halfway along the high street now, outside Boots. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can’t think about anything.’

Nell wrapped her bare arms around Josie, and Josie found herself staring over Nell’s shoulder at the display of Father’s Day gifts in the window. Aftershaves, grooming kits, mugs with greatest dad in the world! written on them.

‘OK,’ she found herself saying. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Let’s do what?’ Nell asked.

‘Let’s go,’ Josie said. ‘The road trip, I mean. Let’s get away from here.’

‘Brilliant,’ Nell replied, squeezing her even harder. ‘Let’s go home and check out your road atlas. Trust me. I’m an expert in great escapes.’

‘Mummy! Is it morning yet?’

Josie opened an eye and squinted at Sam, standing with his face just inches away from hers. Slam. Groundhog Day, all over again. Wake up and smell the divorce papers! ‘Hi, baby,’ she said wearily, stretching out an arm for him. She could see from the clock that it was just after seven, yet it felt like the middle of the night. She’d barely slept, and whenever she had managed to doze off it had been Sabine’s face that had floated up in her dreams, a ghostly pale face swimming up through her subconscious, with that dark-lipsticked mouth wide open in a taunting smile:
He’s mine now. You’re history!

‘Come in for a cuddle,’ she said, pulling Sam into bed with her. He was dry for once, that was something. Her eyelids closed, and then Pete was in her mind again. How had he looked as she’d strode away from him? she wondered. What had been said? Had Sabine been annoyed that he’d brought her to The Eagle, once she knew that Pete and Josie had been there together before?

‘Who was that?’ Sabine had asked. A surprised, breathy voice. Hadn’t she guessed? Wasn’t it obvious?

‘Toby’s downstairs, Mum,’ Sam said, kicking restlessly at the duvet. ‘Can we have breakfast now?’

Josie sat up and yawned. She didn’t even need to look in the mirror to know that her skin was worse than ever. She could feel a rash of pimples around her mouth, along with the red, flaky bits.

Sabine, of course, had lovely skin. Pimple-free. Young and smooth and moisturized.

Oh God. They had looked so happy together, at the bar. Pete and Sabine. Josie, on the other hand, had felt out of place, skulking in the corner like the bad fairy at Sleeping Beauty’s christening party, glowering and staring.

Her marriage was so over. Any fool could see that. How could she and Pete ever come back from this?

She pulled on her dressing gown and sighed listlessly. Here we go again. Another day begins. Another day of single-mumhood to struggle through. It was unbearable. It was truly unbearable. She trudged along to the stairs, wondering what would happen if she just threw herself off the top step. Would she break her neck? Would she die?

‘Is it playgroup this morning?’ Sam asked, hovering behind her.

‘Well . . .’ Josie began. She thought back to the night before when Nell had got her fired up about setting off
à la
Thelma and Louise to cheer them both up. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said vaguely. Now that it was morning, she couldn’t help thinking it was all just a stupid idea brought on by too much beer and too little sense. Did she really have the energy to drive three hundred miles today?

‘Devon would be nice,’ Nell had said thoughtfully, flicking through the road atlas spread out on the kitchen table. ‘Or Cornwall, if you want to go further.’ She’d leaned over the map and run her finger along the coastline, peering at the village names printed in tiny writing. ‘Piddlehinton, the boys would like that,’ she’d giggled. ‘That’s in Dorset . . . Ooh.’ She’d jabbed at the page with a triumphant look on her face. ‘I’ve found it, Jose. Inner Hope. There’s actually a place called Inner Hope! And look, Hope Cove too. Don’t you think that sounds like the perfect place for us to go?’

Josie had laughed. ‘You’re making it up.’

‘I’m serious! There, look, in Devon! And God knows we both need a bit of hope back in our lives now. Look – it’s right by the sea. I’m sure it’s meant to be pretty, that bit of coastline.’ She traced the route across the page. ‘What do you say? Shall we go for Hope?’

Josie had nodded, finding it hard to believe that this wasn’t all an elaborate game. ‘I’d love a bit of hope,’ she’d said fervently.

That had been last night, though. Today Devon seemed like the end of the earth. And running away from things just seemed . . . pointless. The bad stuff would only come with her wherever she was. The bad stuff wouldn’t be that easy to push out of her head.

To Josie’s surprise, Nell was already at the breakfast table with Toby when they went into the kitchen.

‘Hi, guys,’ Josie said, raising her eyebrows. Nell wasn’t usually the earliest of risers. ‘You must have crept down here like little mice. I didn’t hear a thing.’

‘We did, didn’t we, Tobes?’ Nell said, grinning at him. ‘
Squeak, squeak, squeak!
’

‘Sam, guess what?’ Toby burst out excitedly as he looked up from his jammy toast. ‘We’re going on an adventure!’

Josie’s face froze and she turned to Nell. ‘You told him?’

Nell nodded. ‘Shouldn’t I have?’ she asked.

‘Sam, Sam, did you know?’ Toby shouted, bouncing on his chair. ‘We’re going to the seaside! Nell said so!’

‘I was kind of having second thoughts,’ Josie said quietly as she went to boil the kettle. ‘But . . .’

‘Oops,’ Nell said.

‘Are we, Mum? Are we really?’ Sam asked, grabbing Josie’s dressing gown and tugging at it.

Josie looked at Nell, and then back at the boys’ expectant faces. Then she looked at the washing machine and the cooker and the kitchen sink, and something shifted inside her.

‘Yep,’ she said. ‘Of course we’re going.’ And as the words came out, she felt a fluttering sensation deep within her, as if she was letting go of a heavy weight and floating free. ‘Let’s have breakfast, and then we can pack up and go.’

The fluttering sensation lasted within Josie the whole time she was buttering toast and making sludgy Weetabix and pouring apple juice for the boys. By the time she was sitting down with her own breakfast, she was writing lists in her head.

Things to take: bedtime teds, clothes, swimming trunks, favourite cups, books, toys, mobile and charger, plastic sheet for Sam . . .

Things to do: lock up shed, turn off hot water, fill up with petrol and . . . Well. The tough one: tell Pete.

She had to let him know they were going – that was a given. She couldn’t just sneak off with no word of explanation; he’d go mental if she did.

But she was dreading having to call him after seeing him the night before. He’d probably have a go at her for daring to come and speak to him and Sabine like that. He’d be pissed off about the toffee pudding remark, too, she knew already. He might even try and talk her out of going, saying that he wanted to spend time with the boys this week. And what if he said he wanted to introduce them to Sabine?

‘Over my dead body,’ Josie growled, her hand on the phone.

‘Get it over with,’ Nell advised, noticing her hovering. ‘Just tell him. It’s not a crime for you to go away. He’s got no say over what you do anyway. Go on. Phone him at work, where he won’t be able to have a hissy fit on you.’

Josie pulled a face. ‘I know, it’s just . . .’

‘Do it. I’ll go and chivvy the boys along, help them decide how many Power Rangers we need to keep us company.’ Nell’s voice was authoritative, and Josie found herself nodding obediently.

‘Mortimer Insurance, how can I help you?’ trilled the receptionist moments later.

‘Peter Winter, please,’ Josie said, licking her lips nervously.

‘Certainly. May I say who’s calling?’

‘It’s . . .’ Would he pick up if he knew it was her? ‘It’s Leia,’ she blurted out, remembering her previous alibi.

‘Just putting you through.’

Josie sat down on the sofa as she heard the line ringing in Pete’s office. Once, twice . . .

‘Peter Winter speaking.’

Josie gulped. All of a sudden, she couldn’t say anything. That voice.
Peter Winter speaking.
It was so familiar, that voice. It had whispered to her, teased her, even serenaded her on their honeymoon.

‘Hello? Is anybody there?’

It had hurt her, too. Told her so many lies.

‘Hi,’ she said at last. ‘Pete, it’s me. Josie.’

‘Oh.’ His voice became gruff. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m phoning to let you know that I’m going away for a week or two, to Devon,’ she said, getting the words out quickly, ‘just to—’

‘To
Devon
? What for?’

‘To . . . think,’ she said, trying to stay calm. ‘To have a bit of space.’

‘What about the boys?’ he asked.

‘Well, they’re coming with me, of course,’ she replied. She felt angry that he even had to ask. Of course they were coming with her!
She
wasn’t the one who’d walked out on them, after all.

‘How . . .’ He hesitated. ‘How are they? About the . . . situation, I mean. Have they said anything?’

‘No,’ she said. She tried not to look at the Cornwall We Are Family photo but her eyes were drawn to it. Those four smiling faces. Such a nice, happy family. She’d have to take that photo down. It was doing her head in, having to see it every day. ‘They just asked if you still loved them. And then they asked if you still loved me.’