Over You (32 page)

Toby rushed in just then, dripping wet and wild-eyed. ‘Mum, come and see what we’re doing, Oliver’s got this water-gun, and it shoots water at you and . . . Oh, just come and see. Come
on
!’

His wet hand tugged at her trouser leg and Josie laughed at his excitement. ‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘I’ll be out in a minute. You go back out there, go on, you’re getting water all over the floor.’ She turned back to Annette. ‘Sorry – you were telling me all about your life changes.’

Annette opened the fridge for milk, and Josie saw piles of ready meals on the shelves and a green line of beer bottles in the salad drawer. She pulled her eyes away hurriedly, not wanting Annette to think she was being nosy.

Annette had already clocked her though. ‘I know, I know, I’m not exactly a domestic goddess, am I?’ she said, shrugging as she took out the milk bottle.

‘I never said—’

Annette laughed. ‘I know you didn’t, but . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Cooking just isn’t one of my priorities, that’s all.’ She sloshed milk into the mugs, spilling some on the work counter. ‘Come to think of it, cleaning isn’t really, either.’

‘Well, so what?’ Josie blurted out. That’s all I seemed to do when I was married, domestic stuff, and it didn’t do me any favours.’ She shut her mouth quickly, aware that her voice was loud. Too loud.

‘MU-U-U-UM!’ the boys were shouting from outside.

‘You don’t have to justify your fridge to me,’ Josie said. ‘Or your cleaning skills. It’s all overrated anyway, if you ask me.’

‘Yeah,’ Annette said. She finished making the tea and passed Josie a mug. ‘Let’s go outside,’ she said. ‘The garden’s a bit titchy but I’ve got a couple of deckchairs, and they’re just about out of splashing range from the paddling pool.’

They sat down in the shade of a fig tree, and suddenly Josie felt awkward. It was all a bit unnatural, being here with Annette, who she hardly knew, with the elephant of their broken marriages trumpeting loudly in the background. She sipped her tea and wished they were sitting in the sun, so that she could at least pull down her sunglasses and close her eyes.

‘So, if you don’t mind me asking . . .’ Annette began.

Here we go, Josie thought.

‘Was it another woman?’

Knew it. Josie nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said. She sipped her tea again. This was her invitation to launch into the story, she knew, but she dodged the cue. ‘How about you?’

‘Yeah.’ Annette replied. There was silence for a moment, and they both studied the boys wrestling energetically in the pool. ‘Shit, isn’t it?’ Annette said.

Josie nodded. ‘Yeah,’ she said again. ‘And . . . Is it still shit for you? Does it ever stop being shit?’

Annette paused to consider her answer. ‘The angry phase was quite fun,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I went totally out for revenge – slashing his car tyres, ripping up his best suit, just trashing loads of his stuff basically.’ She giggled at Josie’s face. ‘Ooh, I’ve shocked you, haven tI?’ she said. ‘Bet you re wishing you hadn’t come round now you know what a psycho I am.’

‘No,’ Josie said, only half truthfully.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got through that,’ Annette said. ‘Did angry. Did sad. Oh yeah, I missed out denial. Did that, too. Did hating. What else? Oh, a bit of slagging around. And now . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I’m on to acceptance now, which is a bit boring, but actually, after that lot, I don’t mind boring at all.’ She grinned. ‘Weary resignation, that’s where I am.’

Josie laughed at her frankness. ‘Weary resignation sounds bloody great from where I’m sitting,’ she said. ‘I’d take that over angry and sad any day.’

‘Is that where you’re up to?’ Annette asked, peering over her sunglasses.

Josie thought. ‘Well, I certainly haven’t done any slagging around,’ she replied.

‘God, that’s the best bit,’ Annette told her, leaning over like a conspirator. ‘You definitely can’t miss that bit out.’

Josie laughed again. ‘That’s a million miles away from what I want now. Ugh. Sex with anybody else. No way.’

Annette grinned. ‘Yeah, I remember saying that too, in the beginning,’ she assured Josie. ‘But . . . well, whatever gets you through the night, that’s my motto.’

Josie sipped her drink, surprised at the way the conversation was going. She’d been expecting some man-bashing, a dollop of
They’re all bastards
from Annette, but all this honesty . . . It was fantastic.

‘So life goes on, then,’ Josie said. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘Yeah, life goes on,’ Annette repeated. ‘How are the boys doing with it all?’

Josie gazed over at them. ‘Up and down,’ she replied. ‘Toby’s been angry. Hitting everything, you know. Sam’s gone the other way. Anxious, and insecure.’ She sighed. ‘I hate it. That’s the worst bit, what it’s done to them.’

‘They’ll come through it,’ Annette said. ‘It
is
grim, I know, but I promise it gets better. Oliver was angry too, blamed me for it all, like I’d driven Gary away, but he’s fine now. We’ve both got our heads round it.’ She smiled. ‘We’ve moved here – fresh start and all that – and I’ve got a new job, plans again. It feels good. Not how I thought my life was going to turn out, but it’s all right.’

Josie was silent for a moment ‘Thanks,’ she said. It’s good to speak to someone who’s been through it Someone who truly knows how I’m feeling.’

‘Takes one to know one, right?’ Annette said. ‘You’ll get there. And don’t forget the getting-laid bit. It’s a crucial part of the recovery process, feeling fanciable again. You just wait.’

It might have helped her, but for me? It is so not going to happen,’ Josie said to Nell on the phone that evening. She’d been thinking about Annette’s predictions, and the idea still filled her with despair. ‘I mean, it’s terrifying, for starters. I haven’t slept with anyone other than Pete for years – eight years! And, more to the point, I don’t want to. The thought of letting someone else see me naked – all the stretchmarks and dimply cellulite, and handfuls of fat . . .’

‘Oh, listen to yourself! You can stop that right there,’ Nell said firmly. ‘You’re lovely. And no woman gets to be our age without a few disfigurements along the way.’

‘Yes, but yours are interesting ones – like your dog-bite scar from Thailand, and your motorbike-crash scar from the Philippines . . .’ Josie sighed. ‘There are glamorous disfigurements, and there are ugh-yuck-what’s-that? disfigurements. And I know which I’ve got.’ She stretched her legs along the sofa. ‘Anyway, that’s enough about my non-existent sex life. How about you? What’s happening with Gareth?’

Now it was Nell’s turn to sigh down the phone. ‘Well . . . We got back together . . .’

‘Great!’

‘. . . And then he dumped me.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Yeah, not so great. He was angry with me at first, for walking out on him, so I’ve had to do a lot of grovelling, and arse-kissing. And I do mean that literally.’

Josie giggled. ‘You can spare me the details, thanks,’ she said. ‘So what then, you got back together . . .’

‘Got back together, yes. For a week. Then he started up with all these questions about the future. “But where is this all going? Where do we go from here?”’

‘Ahh. And what did you say?’

‘Well, I said, don’t ask
me
, I haven’t the faintest! Because I’d rather not have it all mapped out like that. I don’t want us to be saying,
We’ll buy a house in a year, have a child a year after that, have a second child two years on from
that . . .’ She sounded exasperated. ‘I know some people like all that planning. But I don’t. So I couldn’t really answer his questions, because I don’t know!’

Josie clucked sympathetically. ‘It’s a difficult one.’

‘It is. And that’s why he dumped me. Because he
wanted
me to know.’ She groaned. ‘We kind of hit a deadlock over it.’

Josie felt her eyes drifting to the postcard from Rob, still up on the mantelpiece, as she and Nell discussed a few other things, then said goodbye. It was always so complicated, wasn’t it, trying to make a relationship work? Maybe Rob had the right idea, taking off and doing his own thing. On impulse, she reached for a pad of paper and pen.

Dear Rob
, she wrote.
How are you? Thanks for the postcard. I was only a tiny bit jealous to hear about what you’ve been doing . . .

She licked her lips, wondering what else to write. He was sure to think her life was very humdrum compared to his. She couldn’t compete with roaring lions, and elephants at breakfast time. And surely he wouldn’t want to hear about her marriage breakdown in all its gory detail.

She put the pen down and switched the telly on instead. She’d write to him when she actually had something interesting to say. She just hoped she wouldn’t have too long to wait.

Before Josie knew it July had come, and her birthday. She’d been dreading it. She couldn’t help remembering last year, when Pete had brought her breakfast in bed, and taken her out for dinner in the evening. He’d sneaked the boys out shopping to choose presents for her, and they’d done scribbly pictures in birthday cards, too. She’d felt truly loved, special, like it mattered that she was in the world.

But this year . . .

This year, who would remember? The boys, bless them, had no idea. They were too young to know about dates. It was just another morning to them – breakfast, being nagged into getting dressed, suffering a wet flannel over their Weetabixy mouths . . .

‘It’s Mummy’s birthday today,’ Josie said that Thursday morning when it became apparent they didn’t know. She tried to sound casual about it, like it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t help a sigh escaping with the words.

‘We did you a card,’ Sam said through his toothpaste.

‘When are we having the cake?’ Toby wanted to know.

Josie stopped brushing Sam’s teeth in surprise. ‘Did you really do me a card?’ she asked him. ‘With Daddy?’

‘No, with—’

‘Ssshhh! It’s a secret!’ Toby said, scowling at his brother.

There was a knock at the door just then, and Josie quickly rinsed their toothbrushes before going down to answer it. Emma was standing there, with Clara hanging back behind her mum’s legs, and Millie in her school uniform. ‘Happy birthday!’ Emma said, handing over a present and card.

‘Have you got the surprise?’ Toby asked, hopping from one foot to the other behind Josie.

Emma smiled. ‘Yes, love. Here you go.’ She handed them a couple of brightly painted cards. ‘The boys made these when I was looking after them the other day,’ she explained. ‘God, do you mean they actually kept it secret?’ she laughed, seeing the surprised look on Josie’s face.

Josie nodded, not trusting herself to speak suddenly. Catch a grip! she told herself. They’re only cards! But it was the feeling-special thing, that was what had got to her. The thought of Emma and the boys spreading newspaper on the table, getting out the paints and brushes, daubing on the colours in great messy splodges, and then Emma clearing the lot up afterwards – all for her. For
her.

Toby pushed his card into Josie’s face. ‘Open it, open it!’ he shouted, jigging up and down. Josie opened it up to read, in Emma’s handwriting,
To a brilliant mum on her
birthday, love from Toby.’

‘And look, I did the T for Toby – there, look, see?’

Josie bit her lip, feeling tears well in her eyes. ‘Oh, sweetheart, well done,’ she said. It’s lovely. Sam, is that for me too?’

She took the other card from Sam’s outstretched hand. It’s a picture of me and Toby on the beach at Devon,’ he explained. ‘And that’s a lion.’

‘Oh, of course it is,’ Josie said, grateful for the information. She’d been just about to ask if it was a frog.
To Mum, Happy birthday, love from Sam.

‘And I did the smiley face there, too,’ he said, pointing proudly at a lopsided oval under his name.

‘They’re brilliant,’ Josie said, kissing both boys. She smiled at Emma. ‘Thanks, Em. That was really sweet of you.’

‘And I’ve booked a table in Browns for a load of us tonight,’ Emma went on. ‘Babysitter’s all sorted too,’ she said firmly. ‘I thought you needed a treat.’

‘Em . . . thanks,’ Josie said, feeling dazzled. ‘You’re a superstar!’ She opened the present Emma had given her, to find a necklace with pretty blue stones on it and a matching bracelet. ‘These are gorgeous – and the cards . . . Oh, I’m going to cry in a minute!’

‘Don’t do that!’ Emma said, hugging her. ‘Not on your birthday! It’s meant to be bad luck, isn’t it?’ She knelt down to address the boys. ‘Right, you two – shall I walk you up to playgroup this morning? Give your mum a break?’ She straightened up and winked at Josie. ‘You’d better start thinking about what you’re going to wear tonight.’

Josie nodded, lost for words. Emma was so kind, so thoughtful. She’d totally gone the extra mile for her today. She kissed the boys again and waved them off. For all her worries, she was actually feeling more special than she had done on her last birthday. Sure, breakfast in bed and dinner out with Pete had been lovely. But they were your classic birthday rituals, weren’t they? No-brainer choices.

Letting the boys mess up your kitchen then organizing a babysitter, girly mates and a restaurant . . . it was a good friend who would do all that. A very good friend.