Katie didn’t feel inclined to help him out, especially when a tiny, controversial voice in her head was reminding her that, yes, she did understand what it felt like to come second all the time. To see her children turn to Ross before her, to feel she was failing them for being out at work, which was, in turn, her own choice for marrying someone who’d never support them . . . It was like a knot that kept tightening.
‘Why?’ she demanded, to push that voice away. She didn’t want to agree with Greg, not when he was acting so self-righteous. ‘Why would I understand?’
Greg looked surprised at her question and a touch of vulnerability crept into his face, making him more like the charming Greg she knew. ‘Well, because you work so hard, and take on so much that Ross ought to be doing for you.’
Katie stared at him and softened. No one ever said that to her. A sense that maybe she was doing the right thing began to spread through her chest. She didn’t ask for sympathy, but it didn’t mean she didn’t need it. ‘Well, yes, I suppose . . .’
‘There’s no suppose about it,’ Greg went on. ‘It must be even harder for you. You’ve got all the pressure of keeping the money coming in, plus most of the housework, because – don’t take this the wrong way – I know Ross isn’t much of a domestic god. But then what man is? It’s not a natural instinct. I don’t know how you put up with it.’
‘No,’ agreed Katie, ‘it is hard, sometimes.’
They looked, long-sufferingly, at each other.
Then Katie remembered that she wasn’t meant to be agreeing with him.
‘Are you sure it’s not just a blip?’ she said. ‘Something that can be worked through?’
Greg shook his head. ‘No. It’s been over for a while. There’s no spark any more. You know what it’s like,’ he added, ruefully, ‘it’s pretty hard to get aroused when someone you used to fancy the pants off turns into a slob with nothing to talk about except what happened at nursery. Meanwhile you’re working every hour God sends, slogging your guts out and getting guilt trips about how you don’t spend enough time with the kids – which, in my considered opinion, stems from guilt because they feel bad, deep down, about how much they’ve let themselves go.’
They. He means Jo and Ross.
Katie felt a flicker of defensiveness. Greg didn’t really have the right to be so dismissive – about either of them.
‘I mean, you’ve had two kids and you’re still the size you were before they were born.’ Greg’s smile turned a little too flattering. ‘You were back in your jeans in weeks, weren’t you? Size ten, right?’
Katie bridled. ‘That was stress, not a diet. Everyone’s different, Greg. Jo looks better now than she’s ever done! I can’t believe you don’t think that.’
‘Maybe she needs to get back to work too then,’ he said.
‘Looking after children is a full-time job,’ snapped Katie.
Greg rolled his eyes and fiddled angrily with the pile of post on the table. ‘Oh, don’t give me that bullshit. I’ve heard that so many times, and we both know it doesn’t compare to a full day of crap at the office.’
‘It is. And that’s the deal, Greg. Jo gave up her career to look after the children. Do you have any idea how hard that is for a woman these days? She gave up her independence, as well as her income – and she’s doing a great job.’ Katie’s eyes flashed angrily. ‘You can’t say she isn’t because you have two perfect daughters. If there’s a problem with your marriage then . . .’
‘We don’t have a marriage any more. At least, not the one I signed up to.’ He waved the bills at her for emphasis. ‘And don’t tell me you planned to marry a whining house-husband with long hair and a degree in the Tellytubbies?’
Katie’s jaw tightened and she opened her mouth to defend Ross – and by extrapolation, herself – but he hadn’t finished. Resentment was boiling out of him, and an unpleasant bully she’d never even been aware of began to emerge from the smart weekend Greg. It wasn’t nice.
His eyes narrowed as he spoke, and Katie noticed a vein on the side of his head, throbbing.
‘I mean, to be frank with you, it was embarrassing, seeing Jo at that dancing class, bulging out of that red dress,’ he went on. ‘I know she was wearing it to remind me of a holiday we had, before the children. She used to look amazing in it. Now?’ He shrugged. ‘She just doesn’t care any more. She doesn’t see herself as a woman, just a mother. But I didn’t marry some obese housewife, I married a gorgeous, smart woman, with a great figure. But oh no, I’m not allowed to say anything, because that’s sexist and unsupportive.’
Katie’s heart shrivelled in sympathy with Jo: she could see her putting on the dress, trying to rekindle some bedroom excitement, thinking it would stir up some sexy memory of a hot night, knowing it didn’t quite fit, hoping Greg wouldn’t notice – then sensing his revulsion and feeling even worse about her body than she did already.
But Jo was beautiful: soft and generous and velvety and yielding. She’d been pinched before, thought Katie, always halving her cakes and scraping off dressing – now she knew why, if Greg had been such a body fascist. Poor Jo, she thought. Ross had never ever made a big deal about her weight; he’d told her she was beautiful even when she was ten days over her due date with Jack and she couldn’t see her own legs.
‘Jo is stunning,’ she insisted. But Greg wasn’t listening now he was on a roll.
‘She’s a milk cow. And the worst thing is she doesn’t seem to care. I’ve tried to get her to go to the gym, but she makes pathetic excuses. It’s not a turn on. That and the constant babybabybaby conversation – God knows how she thinks this third baby’s going to get made.’
‘Greg,’ said Katie, warningly. They were getting into Too Much Information territory now.
‘It’s what happens. No man wants to shag his mother. And don’t tell me things are still sizzling in the bedroom with you and Ross.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ve seen the way you two dance at those classes – just like me and Jo. Zero physical spark. And he used to be a good-looking guy! What’s with the saggy polo shirts and the pot belly, eh? It’s like they don’t care about anything other than the kids.’
‘That is enough!’ yelled Katie.
Greg arched his eyebrow. ‘Ah. So you do know what I mean. I’ve thought for a while that you didn’t look that . . . well, satisfied, shall we say?’
There’s no point denying it, Katie told herself. Don’t be a hypocrite. She struggled with herself, while Greg leaped on her hesitation as a mute agreement.
‘I knew you’d understand,’ he crowed. ‘It’s not pretty, and it’s not very PC, but it’s bloody hard when you’ve got all the stress and they’ve got the moral high ground.’
Ross would never do this, she thought. He’d never rip our relationship apart in front of Jo. He’s a better man than Greg in so many ways.
Slowly an unpleasant truth started to take on a solid shape in Katie’s mind: I’ve made a mistake. I just needed to say those things aloud, so Ross would see how serious I am about fixing them. But I don’t want him to leave. I want us to fix them.
There was another thing: Greg wasn’t actually the man she’d always fondly assumed he was. How much of that idle crush had just been projection – imagining the sort of suited, salaried man she thought she should be with? How much – Katie shuddered at her own shallowness – had been about Greg’s suits, and wine knowledge?
Jo didn’t deserve this self-centred bully.
‘I thought you were making a big mistake, but now I’m not sure you are,’ she said, slowly.
‘I know.’ Greg beamed smugly. ‘Sometimes you just have to be realistic. I don’t think they get that.’
They, thought Katie. They?
‘Do you? I don’t think you’re being that realistic at all. You clearly have no idea how lucky you are to have Jo. So maybe it’s better that you don’t have her. Let her find someone who appreciates her. God, she was so right to change the locks!’
Greg stared, spee
chless.
‘After all,’ Katie went on, her cheeks reddening as she raged half at herself and half at him, ‘you’ll be paying alimony and seeing the children at weekends, so no change there. You just won’t have to suffer the unbearable humiliation of having a wife who enjoys herself. You can find some skinny twenty-year-old instead. If, of course, you haven’t already.’
Greg snorted. ‘Now, Katie, that’s . . .’
‘What?’ she demanded.
But his face gave him away. His eyes dropped guiltily and when he raised his gaze from the roses on the kitchen table to her face, she could tell he was guarding himself. Then he looked surprised.
‘What?’ she yelled.
Greg said nothing but stared over her shoulder.
Katie spun round, and Jo was standing there, clutching her housekeys in her fist.
‘Jo! I thought you weren’t coming back till this afternoon!’ said Katie. ‘Are the kids OK?’
Jo nodded mutely. She was wearing a green wrap dress that stretched over her curves; Katie couldn’t help looking, after Greg’s outburst, and, as usual, she felt jealous of Jo’s creamy cleavage.
Stupid Greg.
Jo still hadn’t said anything, and Katie started to wonder who she was staring at with such intensity: her or Greg.
Shit, thought Katie. This’ll be the first time they’ve seen each other since Greg dropped that bombshell on her and walked out. No wonder she looks ready to explode.
Was that only three days ago? It felt like weeks.
‘Listen, is Ross in the car?’ she asked, feeling in the way. ‘If you two want to, um, have a chat I’ll look after Molly and Rowan for a few hours, give you some time on your own?’ She tried a smile, but Jo’s face was stony.
The kitchen was deathly quiet and thick with unspoken tension. Katie could hear the chirping of birds outside.
She itched to rush out and see the children, probably hug them a bit too hard, but she wasn’t sure it was a good idea to run off until she was sure Jo didn’t want her to stay.
Finally Jo spoke. ‘How long has this been going on?’ she demanded, coolly, and Katie couldn’t tell which one of them she was speaking to.
Katie furrowed her brow. ‘How long’s what been going on?’
Jo directed her scary hard gaze to Greg. ‘Greg? How long? When were you going to tell me?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘Yes, you do! You know exactly what I’m talking about! Was it going to give you some kind of cheap thrill, doing it in our bed because you knew I wouldn’t be back till later? You’re sick! The pair of you are sick!’
Katie looked between Greg and Jo, and realised Jo had jumped to a bizarre conclusion. For a second she was glad the kitchen table was between them because Jo looked ready to kill.
‘God, no, Jo. It’s nothing like that!’ she protested, horrified that Jo could even think it.
‘Did you plan for me and Ross to be out of the way, is that it? I mean, it all makes sense now – you needing to go to Manchester for work, and you . . .’ She stared at Katie, pain and rage mingling in her face. ‘You, telling Ross you had to be here for work. Such an easy excuse for the pair of you, wasn’t it? And we even took the kids out of your hair too. That’s appalling. And yet so absolutely typical of the pair of you!’
Her voice was high and breathy, barely under control.
‘Jo, no . . .’ Katie looked at the flowers on the table, and Greg’s bag, and her own dishevelled appearance, and she could see it didn’t look good, especially after Jo’s three days away, trying to work out how her world had fallen apart.
Jo laughed, mirthlessly. ‘Ross wondered if there was someone else, and I said, no, no, Katie’s not that type. Greg, yeah – I assume you’ve got someone else, but you . . .’ Her eyes burned through Katie. ‘I thought you were my friend. I’ve been telling Ross you’re better than that, that you’d never look elsewhere, but Jesus, you weren’t even looking very far!’
Katie’s blood chilled. Ross. Was he going to walk in next and hear all this? What about the kids?
‘Honestly, Jo, I swear to you there’s nothing going on!’ she protested, trying to keep her voice level. ‘I came round to freshen up the house, and Greg walked in. I had no idea he was going to turn up – I wouldn’t have come if I’d known. I’ve been here ten minutes, if that.’
‘You didn’t mention anything about you and Ross splitting up,’ said Greg.
Katie turned to him furiously. ‘No, because it’s none of your business, and anyway, you’ve just been talking about yourself, non stop. Now tell her! Tell Jo there is absolutely nothing going on between you and me.’
For a clawing instant, Katie saw a mean reticence in Greg’s face, as though he was toying with the idea of dropping her in it, just because he could.
‘Tell her!’ Katie screeched.
I don’t want Ross to think I’ve been cheating on him, was the thought that seared through her, and the strength of the fear took her by surprise, then dropped her back into despair, that everything was going wrong faster than she’d be able to stop it.
‘There’s nothing going on,’ said Greg at last, pushing a hand through his hair. ‘It’s like she says, Katie was here when I arrived. I only came round to leave some things for the girls and pick up some more clothes. In fact,’ he added, nastily, ‘it’s just as well she was because if she hadn’t left the door open, I wouldn’t have been able to get in.’
‘Yes,’ said Jo, ‘that’s because the locks have been changed.’
‘I don’t think you’ve got the right to do that,’ he began. ‘And if I find you’ve done anything stupid to my stuff, then don’t think—’
‘Just get your clothes and go.’ Jo shook her head and turned away, reaching for the thick rail of the Aga to hold on to.
‘They’re in the spare room,’ added Katie. ‘I put them in bin bags.’
Greg picked up his bag: a large Mulberry overnight bag. Katie noticed, dully, that the airline tags from some recent trip were still hanging off it.
Not exciting and globe-trotting any more; just ostentatious. It was probably only a flight up to Glasgow.
She looked up to see if Jo was OK and saw that the intensity had drained out of her as quickly as it had come. Her shoulders had dropped again in a submissive, defeated slump, and her hair was starting to frizz. They must have had an early start to get back, and she probably hadn’t had time to tame her curls in the rush to get all four children ready. Katie instinctively moved around the table to stand at her side.
Greg was looking at Jo too, but not with the same sympathy that Katie was. He turned his gaze to her, and raised his eyebrow ironically, and Katie knew he was nudging her to think about what he’d said.
‘Let me know if I missed anything in the bin bags,’ she snapped.
Greg opened his mouth to say something, but Katie’s fierce glare put him off, and he strolled out of the kitchen.
‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Jo, without looking up. ‘I . . . I’m really sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ said Katie, hugging her.
‘I know he’s been seeing someone – I’ve suspected it for ages.’ Jo bit her lips. ‘You’re his type, you know – successful, ambitious.’ There was a painful pause. ‘Thin.’
Katie winced. Jo’d never even hinted that she had a problem about her body before. She held her at arms’ length. ‘Shut up. You’re gorgeous. You know that. Please tell me you didn’t really think that I’d ever try it on with Greg. Please tell me that.’
Jo sighed. ‘No. Not really. I’m sorry. I guess I just wanted an explanation . . . something concrete to be angry with, instead of this . . .’ She made a despairing gesture. ‘This . . . mess.’
‘I know what you mean,’ said Katie, quietly, and hugged Jo back to her shoulder.
Upstairs, they could hear Greg stomping about, opening cupboards, slamming doors.
‘We came back early because Hannah and Jack were missing you,
’ said Jo, quietly. ‘We all missed you.’
Katie didn’t know what to say. So she said nothing, but squeezed harder.
‘I should tell Ross what’s going on,’ said Jo, suddenly, springing out of Katie’s embrace. ‘He’ll be wondering what’s happening.’
Ross was in the car, gamely singing the theme tune to Big Cook Little Cook, with Hannah and Molly, while Jack and Rowan garbled the occasional word. Katie recognised it at once as the malevolently catchy CBeebies CD that drove her so insane she pretended it wouldn’t work in her car. It still sounded horrific, but Katie thought she’d never seen anything sweeter: Ross had two thin braids in his hair, as did Hannah and Molly, and the back seat was piled with things they’d made from straws and pine-cones.
‘Mummy! Mummy!’ As soon as Hannah and Jack saw her, their faces shone with delight, and Katie thought her own heart would break, so fierce was the need to hold them.
‘Hello! Hello!’ she cried, leaning into the car to hug them. ‘Hello, Molly! Hello, Rowan!’
Molly looked somewhat startled to be hugged by Hannah’s mummy, who didn’t normally go in for such dramatic displays of affection.
‘Mummy, you’re crying,’ observed Hannah.
‘Happy tears!’ Katie wiped her face with her hand. ‘Happy tears to see my lovely babies!’
‘Is everything OK?’ asked Ross in a low tone.
‘Yes!’ Jo had dragged on her cheerful face, in front of the children. It didn’t fool Katie: the smile was too wide and the pink cheeks were due to hastily applied blusher. ‘Yes, I think Greg and I are going to have a chat, and then . . . yes, we’ll be fine.’
Katie looked at Ross, then Jo. ‘If you want to stay, Ross, I’ll take everyone back to ours.’
‘No!’ said Jo, brightly. ‘Everyone’s settled in this one – why don’t you all pop out for some lunch and leave your car here? Swap over when you come back.’
‘If you’re sure . . . ?’