Elliott, Thomas and Tanya sat on the floor in Thomas’s bedroom. The Scalectrix, the Game Boys and Harry Potter had been cleared away to under the bed, and the children faced each other in a tight circle. Tanya twiddled her fingers in what she assumed to be an expert way and then licked her tongue wetly along the cigarette paper. The boys looked on in rapt awe.
“So,” she asked, “which one of the new other halves do we like best? If any.”
“I like them all,” Elliott piped up.
“That’s because you’re a lamebrain,” his sister snarled.
“It takes one to know one,” he retorted. Tanya kicked out at him.
“We want our parents to get back together, don’t we?”
“Why?” Elliott said.
“Because that’s how it’s supposed to be, idiot.”
“All my friends’ parents are divorced,” Thomas said.
“Yes,” Tanya sighed, “but that doesn’t mean they know what’s good for them. You know what adults are like. What do you think?”
Thomas shrugged. “I like Christian. He’s pretty cool.”
“He’s an arsehole,” Tanya said. “I can’t stand the way he drools all over Mum.”
“I thought that’s what boyfriends were supposed to do,” Elliott said.
Tanya narrowed her eyes. “Not when they’re that age! It’s revolting.”
“He can’t be that bad.” Elliott nodded at the cigarette papers. “He showed you how to do that.”
“He didn’t show me,” Tanya snapped. “I sort of copied him,” she added more softly, admiring her handiwork from all angles.
“I like Nicola Jones too,” Thomas continued, unperturbed.
“I think she might be too demanding.” Elliott lay back on his Bob the Builder pillow, which adorned the floor, and wrinkled his forehead in concern. “And she has a lot of hair. It must take her ages to get ready.”
“Mummy’s got lots of hair too,” Thomas said. “And she doesn’t do anything to it.”
“That’s because she’s a mummy, not a girlfriend,” Elliott said wisely.
“Oh,” Thomas said, bowing to his younger brother’s greater knowledge of the female sex.
Ed let himself in the front door and tossed the Independent onto the phone table. The worst thing about coming home since Ali had left was that the house didn’t feel like a home anymore. No one was here to greet him and ask him if he’d had a good day, even, it had to be said, if he didn’t always feel like responding. When the kids were around, they barely looked up from the table or, if they were parked in front of All My Children, he didn’t get a look in, just lots of shushing.
Dumping his briefcase, he wandered through to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. He might have a bath before dinner, if you could call Cheddar Cheese Crispy Pancakes and a packet of Super Noodles dinner. His back hurt and his head hurt, but they were nothing compared to his heart, which hurt grievously. Ali had sent a postcard to the kids from the Maldives, which he felt was rubbing salt into wounds somewhat, and he wasn’t sure whether he was piqued or pleased that his name didn’t even feature on it. He might forgo the tea route and head straight for the strong drink instead.
It also might help assuage his guilt over his newly promiscuous persona, which he wasn’t entirely at ease with. He’d nipped into the men’s room today and examined himself several times in case he’d developed some sort of rash. Nicola Jones had been unconcerned that they had no protection when they made love, which was a bit scary considering how desperate she seemed for kids. Perhaps he should have told her that he’d had the snip and that the whole thing would be a bit of a wasted effort if she ever thought that he might be capable of procreation. It seemed so unnecessary to be using condoms if he was firing blanks, but if he was going to sleep around, as his brother laughingly termed it, he was going to have to be a bit more careful.
He wondered if Orla had been able to sense anything different about his demeanor, as he’d been trying very hard to remain normal and she usually didn’t miss a trick. If she had, she didn’t say anything. Ed massaged his temples. He couldn’t cope with all these ifs, buts, whys and wherefores. It was all too taxing for someone as old and weary as himself.
Ed threw off his jacket. There was no television blaring out and the house was as silent as the grave, which couldn’t possibly mean that by some stretch of the imagination his children were secreted away in the bedrooms doing homework, could it? Like England ever becoming a leading force again in Test cricket, it was too, too much to hope for. He would definitely have a bath. Perhaps he’d feel better for a brisk rubdown with some strong soap and a rough flannel. Ed stretched, cracked his neck and went in search of his offspring.
“Orla’s scary,” Thomas said, propping himself up on his elbow.
“Scarier than Scary Spice?” Elliott wanted to know.
“Scary Spice isn’t scary anymore, dipstick. She’s a has-been.” Tanya let the smoke curl in front of her eyes and pouted her mouth to see if she could blow a smoke ring, which she couldn’t.
“So why’s Orville scary?” Elliott absentmindedly punched Barney the perky purple dinosaur in the face.
“Orla!” Tanya and Thomas corrected.
“Orla is a predatory female,” Tanya said with a grudging touch of admiration in her voice. “She is afraid of no one and nothing. She’s like Sigourney Weaver. She’s independent, single-minded.” Tanya pinned Elliott with her eyes. “She is a woman in control of her own destiny.”
“Well, that sounds nice,” Elliott said chirpily. “What’s a destiny?”
Tanya rolled onto her back. “She’d make our lives hell.”
Elliott frowned. “That doesn’t sound so nice.”
“Christian and Nicola Jones, we could control,” Tanya said with a wistful look. “Orla would squish us all like flies.”
“Then I don’t think I want her to be our mummy,” Elliott said.
“No one can replace our mother, Elliott,” Tanya growled. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“Okay,” he said with a shrug. His eyes followed Tanya’s fingers longingly. “Give us a go.”
“No.”
Elliott pouted. “Christian said we had to share.”
“Christian doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Oh, go on!”
Tanya huffed with exasperation. “How did I ever get landed with two manky brothers?”
She sat up and moved toward Elliott. “If you ever, ever tell anyone about this, Elliott, you are seriously dead meat. Get it?”
“Yes,” Elliott said, eyes bright and excited.
“What are you?”
“Dead meat,” he repeated obediently.
“You too, Tom.”
“Dead meat,” he echoed.
Tanya maneuvered her fingers. “Hold it like this,” she said.
At that moment the door flew open and Ed walked in. “Hi, kids,” he said, then ground to a premature halt in the doorway. His face blackened and his eyebrows met in the middle. “What the…!” he shouted.