He takes me to bed and makes love to me slowly and tenderly. I feel so emotional and exhausted that, afterwards, tears roll down my face. Joe wipes them away and holds me tightly against his chest until my crying subsides. Then we settle to go to sleep with him spooned around me and the sound of his steady breath against my hair.
Before I finally surrender to sleep, I think briefly of Mason Soames and how very different this is. With Joe, I realise that I actually feel loved – or something that comes very close to it. Surely no one can make me feel like this without meaning it. He snuggles in closer and I lose myself in the weight of his embrace.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Oh, shit, fuck, bugger. An alarm is going off by my ear and when I open my eyes, for a moment, I have no idea where I am. Then I hear Joe muttering and he reaches over me to switch it off. Turning towards him, I wonder if I’ve got mascara tracks down my face as the last thing on my mind was taking my make-up off.
‘Morning,’ he says, sleepily.
‘Morning.’
‘Forgot to turn the alarm clock off.’
That, I’d gathered. ‘Have I got panda eyes?’
‘Yes. But I’ve always had a thing for pandas.’ He reaches for me under the sheet and pulls me close. I mould into him and his hand caresses my breast then slides between my legs. ‘The kids won’t get up for ages,’ he whispers against my lips as he kisses me. ‘I don’t see why we should be in a rush either.’
So we make love again and this time it’s even more sweet, caring and sensuous. I’d be quite happy to have sex like this for the rest of my life. I have no idea what Gina’s new man is like but, quite frankly, he’s going to have to go some to beat this. The woman must be mad.
Eventually, we hear the kids stirring and we go into Joe’s en suite and take a shower together. A shower that takes rather longer than it should.
I borrow a T-shirt from Joe, put my pants on inside out and rub round my teeth with toothpaste on my finger. Skanky, I know, but what can I do? I’ll have to change when I get home.
‘I promised you breakfast,’ Joe says, ‘and I’m a man of my word.’
I touch his arm before he leaves the room. ‘Thanks for last night.’
‘The pleasure was all mine,’ he teases.
‘It felt nice,’ I say sincerely – which is the biggest compliment I can give him.
He wraps his arms round me. ‘You’re the first woman, other than Gina, that I’ve slept with in many a long year. Thanks for not making me feel like an idiot.’
I toy with the buttons on his shirt and it takes all my strength not to start opening them again. He stays my hand. ‘Time for breakfast, madam.’
‘Sounds wonderful.’
‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I need to face up to the kids and I’d rather we were in the kitchen than coming out of the bedroom together. I don’t mind them knowing that Daddy had a sleepover, but I’d rather it was on my terms.’
‘You think they’ll be OK about it?’
‘We’ll soon find out.’
So we go downstairs and I’m put on toast duty while Joe gets the necessary bits together for our fry-up. We’re working quite well as a lean, mean breakfast-making team when the kids emerge. Tom’s black eye is livid purple and his lip is swollen. He’s moving like a zombie from The Walking Dead.
‘How are you doing, champ?’ Joe asks, gently ruffling his son’s hair as he passes.
‘I hurt,’ Tom complains, smoothing it down again as best he can. ‘I hurt all over.’
‘I have the cure for that,’ Joe says cheerily and cracks eggs into a pan. ‘One full English coming up. It will put hairs on your chest and lead in your pencil.’
Tom grimaces. ‘Gross.’
Daisy, clad in pink ‘I’m a Princess Get Over It’ pyjamas, raises one hand in greeting. ‘Hey.’ It looks as if several birds have nested in her hair overnight.
They both slide into seats at the table and busy themselves on their phones. That, so it seems, is the full glare of attention that my first night in their family home warrants. Perhaps it was better happening like this than us both making a big fuss about it. Whichever way, I’m certainly glad that it did. I have a little bubble of happiness around me. While Joe multi-tasks with the breakfast, he winks at me and I smile back. First hurdle jumped, I guess.
We eat breakfast together and then Joe checks over Tom’s injuries again and decides that a family outing to A&E isn’t necessary. His wounds seem to look worse than they are and he’s given painkillers and a coating of antiseptic cream. So Tom collapses onto the sofa in front of the television while Daisy is cajoled into helping with the clearing up. I’m just stacking the dishwasher when the doorbell goes. Tom, washing the grill pan in the sink, wipes his hands on the towel and heads to the door.
The next moment, a woman who can only be Gina bursts into the room. She’s beautifully groomed in tight white capri pants, a black shirt and gold heels even though it’s eleven o’clock on a Monday morning. She has Aviator shades perched on top of her long, glossy black hair.
‘Where is he?’ she says, breathlessly. ‘Where’s my baby?’ Then she pulls up short when she sees me. ‘Who the hell are you?’
Joe is at her shoulder, his face dark with suppressed anger. ‘This,’ he says, ‘is my friend, Ruby.’
‘Oh.’ Gina looks me up and down and is clearly not enamoured by what she sees. I, in turn, am wishing that I had on designer clothes or at least not her husband’s band T-shirt and yesterday’s pants. Some make-up wouldn’t go amiss either. I probably bear the look of a thoroughly shagged woman. Which I am. Stick that in your pipe, Gina the Ex.
Joe adds, ‘She came to Tom’s rescue last night.’
‘Did she now?’ She scowls at me and I’m glad that looks are actually unable to kill or I’d be a goner. Gina turns her attention to Joe. ‘And where were you when our boy was in trouble?’
‘At work,’ he says calmly. ‘Where were you?’
She purses her lips at that and is rescued from making further comment by the appearance of the walking-wounded Tom.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he says and is instantly swept into Gina’s embrace.
‘My baby, my baby,’ she coos, then bursts into tears and cries all over him.
‘I’m OK.’ He tries to wriggle loose. ‘Just don’t hold me that tight, it hurts.’
She holds him away from her and exclaims, ‘I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I came as soon as I could.’
Nobody points out that they’ve been trying to get hold of her for the last twelve hours or more, but it hangs in the air. Try as I might, I can’t imagine Joe being with this glamorous but brittle woman. He’s so down-to-earth and caring yet, even standing here with her broken son, she seems to want all the attention.
Not to be left out, Daisy goes and twines herself round her mother. ‘My darling,’ Gina purrs. ‘How I miss you both.’
Joe looks at me over her head and raises his eyebrows.
‘I should go,’ I say. ‘I’m in work later.’
Joe nods tightly.
How things change in an instant. It was all going so well and, despite me being the one who Tom turned to in his hour of need, I now definitely feel superfluous to requirements.
‘I’ll walk you to the door,’ Joe says, embarrassed.
I hold up a hand. ‘No need.’
‘I’ll call you later.’
Gina takes a moment from fussing over her son to shoot me another black look. Bitch.
Picking my bag up, I head to the door and close it softly behind me. I sit in the car in Joe’s drive, gripping the steering wheel and I could cry. It was all so lovely and then, as quick as a flash, I’m suddenly outside of this tight little unit and by myself.
And I realise with blinding clarity that this relationship is never going to be anything but difficult.
Chapter Seventy-Five
I work my shift, telling Charlie everything that happened last night and this morning in short snip
pets whenever we manage to cross at the bar.
‘She sounds like a bagful of trouble,’ is Charlie’s assessment and I fear she may be right.
‘We had such a great night,’ I whisper over my two plates of harissa lamb with minted couscous for table four. ‘Why did she have to come back and spoil it all?’
‘That’s the job of ex-wives,’ she says, sagely.
Joe hasn’t called me and that has my stomach in knots. I’m feeling mean-spirited and disgruntled. I really, really want to see Joe again. Preferably tonight, wrapped up in the warmth of his arms. Well, it looks like that’s not going to happen, is it? Sigh.
When I’ve finished moaning about Gina, Charlie tells me all about her dinner with Nice Paul and how they went back to the theatre and managed to catch The Barlow coming out. Her night, it seems, was more uniformly successful than mine.
We finish work a bit early as there aren’t many people eager to be in the Butcher’s Arms on a Monday night, which I’m grateful for. My feet are killing me and the lack of sleep from last night is definitely catching up with me.
Charlie is in a rush to leave. ‘I’ll catch you tomorrow, chick,’ she says and heads for the door. ‘I’ve got an appointment with a forum.’
‘Laters,’ I say and, as she’s leaving with more haste than usual, I wonder if Nice Paul is part of it.
While I’m getting my bag out of the staffroom, I hear a noise behind me which makes me jump. When I turn, Mason Soames is leaning on the door frame.
‘You look like shite, Brown,’ he says.
‘Your chat-up lines might need a bit of work, Mason. They’re slipping.’
‘What have you been up to?’ He pouts at me like a lost little boy. ‘I never see you now.’
‘I’m always here,’ I point out.
‘Drink wine with me. Tell me your troubles.’
‘You really don’t want to hear them,’ I say.
‘I can pour you a decent glass of red here or we could go back to my place where I have lots and lots of wine.’
‘This is a pub,’ I counter. ‘You can’t have more wine than here.’
‘Semantics,’ he bats back.
I’m not ready to go home alone, yet I know that I can’t go back to Mason’s place. I really want to be held tonight and I know that if I go with Mason it will involve so much more than that. Yet my stupid, tired and easily affected heart says, ‘Ooo, he’s handsome, let’s get cosy with him,’ while my brain says, ‘Stay out of trouble, Ruby. Whatever he says, go home now.’ I need to stay away from this man. It’s ridiculous, but he’s like catnip to me. I’m starting to care more about Joe and I don’t want to hurt him in the way that we’ve both been hurt before. This is the time to cut all ties with Mason. Except for our professional ones.
‘I can see you positively quivering with indecision.’ He comes towards me but I hold up a hand.
‘Don’t, Mason. I’m over-tired, my defences are weak and I definitely should be by myself.’
‘But I love it when your defences are weak,’ he protests which makes me laugh.
‘There’s something else too.’
When I hesitate, he says, ‘I’m all ears.’
I guess there’s no point beating about the bush. ‘Joe, the bloke I was seeing? Well, it’s more serious now. Sort of,’ I tell him, frankly, and am surprised to see his face fall.
‘Since when?’
‘For a little while now. On and off. It’s complicated.’
‘Ah, that old chestnut.’
I decide to be honest with him. ‘I really like you, Mason. Sometimes I like you a lot. I simply don’t have the energy for all your sexual hijinks. I’m too old for it. Swinging from the chandeliers is all very well for a short time. You’re young and full of fun, which is lovely, and I thought it was what I needed to get over my broken heart. But it’s not. I’m looking to settle down and I might have a good chance with this man.’
Mason doesn’t look that impressed by my candid assessment of the situation. ‘So, who is he?’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ I say. ‘You don’t know him.’
‘You love him?’
‘I think so.’ This is the first time that I’ve admitted it to myself. But I might do. I might just love Joe.
Mason blows out an unhappy breath. ‘God, Brown. I thought you and I were going to get it on.’
I never know with Mason whether he’s joking or not. I decide to play it as if he’s not. ‘I need someone to rely on,’ I tell him, sincerely, even though I probably don’t owe him this level of openness. ‘There are some nights that I just want to be held.’
‘I can do that,’ Mason says earnestly and, for a moment, I believe that he really means it. There’s a catch in his voice when he adds, ‘I can be that person. Give me a chance.’
I shake my head as I pick up my bag. ‘We’ve had fun together, Mason. That’s all it was, though. I thought I could do that, but I can’t. When it comes down to it, I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me.’
‘I could be,’ he says.
‘I don’t think so.’ I push open the door to the bar.
‘Don’t go now! I’m baring my soul to you. Don’t walk out on me, Brown,’ he says. ‘Let’s talk about it. Let me hold you, for fuck’s sake!’
Smiling, I head for the door. ‘Nice try, Mason. But it will never work for us.’
So I go home, drink two big glasses of wine and lie down in bed next to cardboard cut-out Gary Barlow and cry myself to sleep.
Chapter Seventy-Six
I don’t hear from Joe. All week. Not a sausage.
Monday – nothing
Tuesday – nothing. Though I fully expected a call.
Wednesday – still nothing. I could call him, but I’m not going to. It’s a point of principle. He should have called me. Preferably as soon as Gina left. Isn’t that the done thing?
Thursday – more nothing. Despite chanting all day ‘He will ring’ – a mantra that I read in a clearly flipping useless self-help book.
Friday – even more nothing. You’d have thought, at least, he could have phoned me to let me know how Tom was getting on after all I did for him. Bastard.
Saturday – acres and acres of bloody nothing. He’s not a bastard. I really like him. I might love him.
Sunday – nothing. I have a good cry. A properly good cry.
That’s it. I’m done with men. No more Mason. No more Joe. Like Charlie, it’s only Gary Barlow from now on.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
If Joe doesn’t call by tomorrow, I’m going to ring him. Something might be horribly wrong.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
Joe calls me. My heart soars. I try not to run round the living room doing a happy dance when he does. Instead, I say, ‘Hi,’ too brightly as if he’s some kind of long-lost friend rather than a boyfriend who hasn’t phoned when he maybe should have.
‘I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch,’ he says and he sounds so weary that I want to rush to him and give him the biggest hug there is.
‘Are you OK?’
Long pause. ‘I’ve had a lot going on.’
When there’s nothing more forthcoming, I try to stay upbeat and ask, ‘How’s Tom doing? Recovering from his ordeal?’
‘Getting there,’ Joe says.
‘That’s good to hear. Give him and Daisy my love.’
‘Can we meet up for a coffee tomorrow?’ It’s clear that he doesn’t want small talk today. ‘If you’re free.’
‘I start work at twelve, but I could do ten-ish.’
‘I’ll be working, but do you want to come up to the café at Sunshine Meadows?’
‘Yeah, that’s fine.’ It means it will be a bit of a snatched meeting, but that’s better than nothing. ‘Look forward to it.’
‘See you tomorrow, Ruby.’
When he hangs up, I do run round the living room doing a happy dance.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
I fly up to Sunshine Meadow
s with wings on my feet. Well, I drive, in my clapped-out Mazda, but that doesn’t sound nearly as wonderful. It’s a glorious day. The sort of day that we should all stop what we’re doing and head to the beach. The sort of day where we should eat fish and chips and ice-cream and drink Pinot Grigio by the pint. Perhaps Joe and I can take the kids somewhere by the coast one weekend before the summer is over. It would be nice to get away for a few days together if we can. Finances are tight for both of us, but a couple of nights in a basic B&B shouldn’t break the bank. It’s a long time since I’ve felt sand in my toes and I can just visualise long romantic walks on the shore, hand-in-hand with Joe.
I’ve made an effort with my appearance today. A flippy, floaty summer dress in pastel shades, dainty sandals, a straw sunhat. I’m doing Earth Mother plus Felicity Kendal meets Festival Grunge and I feel fabulous, light of heart, mood sunny and bright. I’ll seriously frighten my colleagues if I turn up to work still feeling like this. Charlie won’t recognise me.
There’s no gardening going on today when I arrive, instead the residents are relaxing in the garden, chatting and reading. There are a few blankets spread out on the grass and it’s the perfect spot for a picnic lunch. It all looks so pretty here with an array of colourful flowers out in full force – I’ve no idea what as, by now, you know I’m totally not green-fingered, but they look great. If I had a garden this is the vibe I’d want.
Then I spot Joe over in a corner under the shade of a tree that’s out in white blossom. He’s lying stretched out on his side on the grass, sunglasses on his head, and looks hotter than hell. When I get closer, I can see that he’s showing two of the young women who live here how to make daisy chains and I get a rush of affection for him. I stand to one side where he can’t see me and watch for a moment as with his big, strong fingers he makes little holes in the stem of one daisy before threading through another. His pupils watch with rapt attention, tongues out in concentration as they follow his moves. He smiles paternally at them both, guiding their efforts and high-fiving them when they get it right. The women are happy, giggly and are clearly quite smitten with him. I know how they feel.