November
It felt odd to be walking around the kitchen wearing just a corset, G-string, hold-ups, and high heels – and rather on the chilly side. Down at the lake that morning with Stevie and Angela, it was what she had agreed to do to test out the oestrogen tablets she had been prescribed by her doctor.
‘Get sexy,’ Stevie had said, twirling her wet swimsuit around her head and shaking her bum.
‘Make sure you’ve got some lubricant handy,’ Angela suggested with a giggle. ‘It’d really ruin the moment to have to dash to the bathroom cabinet to find it.’
When Holly had shared the gory details of her visit to the doctor, it had become the only topic of conversation before, during, and after their swim. Angela said she had the same problem ‘down there’ and wanted to know what sort of lubricant the doctor had prescribed. Stevie wasn’t sure if she needed lubricant, but had been told that the HRT patches she had been using for a couple of years to treat mood swings and hot flushes were supposed to help with that too.
‘I just need an opportunity to try it out!’ The cackles had echoed round the valley and Stevie hadn’t minded one bit because they were laughing with her, not at her.
The Prosecco was already in the fridge and Holly had spent the afternoon preparing a delicious but light supper for that evening. Nothing too garlicky, spicy, or fishy – easy to eat off their laps in front of the wood burner, which she’d been stoking all afternoon so that the sitting room was cosy enough to not wear too many clothes. She’d bought a couple of huge glass jars from a homeware shop on the edge of town and filled them with unscented night lights.
She peeked out of the kitchen door and smiled: the gentle reflective glow created just the right ambiance of warmth and hygge she had seen in the magazines she’d been reading recently. Bringing light into the darkness of winter was a Scandinavian tradition she’d known about for years, but never really felt the need to practice in her city home. The darkness was different in this remote corner of Cumbria where there were no street lights and people kept their curtains drawn tight across tiny windows and barely a soul ventured out on the road after seven p.m.
Now, the glass jars of light just outside the porch would add their friendly presence to the existing holiday cottage fairy lights. The only problem was if it rained, the candles would be extinguished. Tonight, though, it was a clear sky, the stars were starting to come out, and the night lights would burn for hours. Holly would deal with the practicalities of outdoor hygge another time.
All this effort was directed at having sex with her husband when he came back from mountain biking. She didn’t even care right at that moment whether he was caked in mud or walked into the kitchen wearing his muddy boots. Dressing up was a game they used to play when they were first together, a bit of role play, but nothing kinky. Just enough to tease each other, but it had been many years since she’d put this particular corset on and it was so damn tight that she hoped Simon would get home soon and rip it off her or she’d pass out. The heels were excruciating. How on earth had she managed a full day at work in them when she was younger?
Then she heard a car pulling into the yard and click clacked over to the window to peer out. The yard was so well lit up with fairy lights and night lights that she had no trouble seeing that it wasn’t Simon’s car, but one that she didn’t recognise. Help! she thought. Who the hell is that? There weren’t any guests expected today, or had she got the bookings mixed up?
Hopping about in her heels, not quite sure what to do, but hoping the couple would go away, she grabbed her phone from her handbag and tried to log into the holiday cottage owner’s page. Too late! There was a loud knock at the door and Holly stood completely still. Then a face peered in at the window. Oh, God! She squealed and tried to cover herself up with her hands. Then she heard another car coming into the yard and she knew instinctively it was Simon. A car door slammed, voices were now at the door, and in walked Simon, followed closely by a man and a woman. All three stopped, a stunned look on their faces at the sight of Holly standing in the middle of the kitchen dressed like a porn star.
If anyone had told her what had just happened and how she and her husband would react, she would not have believed them. Right at that moment, she just wanted the ground to swallow her up. My marriage is over, she thought.
‘Darling, I’m home,’ Simon said in a perfectly normal, calm voice. His eyes told another story.
‘Oh, good, the Prosecco is in the fridge,’ replied Holly. Her heart was going like the clappers, but she stood, paralysed, as if the music had stopped in a game of musical statues.
‘Fuck,’ Simon mouthed at her as he fumbled for the key to the cottage on the back of the larder door, took one more glance at his wife, and beckoned the staring couple to follow him back out and across the yard.
Those poor people. They’d driven all the way from London for a romantic week in a Lakeland cottage just to be confronted with that! Holly could breathe again, but she knew she had to do something pretty quick before Simon came back in. An idiotic thought flashed through her head. If she changed into jeans and a T-shirt, perhaps he’d think he’d imagined it all?
‘You’re in trouble, girl,’ Holly said to herself.
She hobbled upstairs in her stupid shoes and reached for her Missoni robe off the back of the bedroom door and yanked it around her shoulders. Not wanting to break her neck falling down the stairs, she fiddled with the flimsy straps round each ankle, trying to undo them, but her hands were shaking. By the time she’d got them undone and flung the shoes into the corner of the bedroom, she heard the kitchen door bang and then there were noises downstairs as Simon pulled off his muddy shoes. As she tiptoed down the stairs, she heard the kitchen tap start to run as he washed his hands.
‘Hello,’ she said quietly from the doorway.
Simon was drying his hands on the kitchen towel, but turned round to look at her. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ He chucked the towel down in a heap on the draining board and went over to the fridge, probably looking for a beer. She felt desperately in need of the whole bottle of Prosecco.
‘So?’ His voice came from inside the fridge. ‘And what’s this Prosecco doing in here? Have I forgotten our anniversary?’ She hoped it was her cue to go up behind him and try to placate him, reassure him that it had been a surprise, a romantic surprise.
‘Let’s have some now, shall we?’ she suggested, trying to remain calm. ‘Here, I’ve got two glasses.’ She grabbed a couple of vintage crystal wine glasses from the shelf and put them on the table. Her dressing gown fell open. She saw Simon looking at her.
‘Why are you wearing that anyway?’ Not the reaction she’d been hoping for.
‘More to the point, why didn’t you remember that we had guests arriving today? That was rather embarrassing.’ Simon popped open the bottle and poured two glasses. ‘To say the least,’ he added as he handed one to her.
Without another word, he walked out of the kitchen and into the sitting room.
Never in the whole time she’d known him had Simon turned down sex with her. Her outfit had clearly been intended to be provocative, not promote rejection. Holly was dismayed and embarrassed. She felt smutty and ridiculous. She thought he’d be pleased she was actually initiating sex after all the times she’d complained about it being painful. What was wrong with him? Had something happened at work? Perhaps he really had been having an affair and now found her repulsive?
The sitting room was roasting; the dog was virtually passed out on the rug in front of the stove. He was so out of it that he hadn’t even appeared in the kitchen when Simon came back. Perhaps he had sensed trouble and had stayed out of the way.
Holly curled her feet up under her bottom and squeezed herself into the corner of the huge sofa. The corset was digging into her and she could hardly breathe. She didn’t want to fiddle about with it now and further irritate her husband, but she longed to unlace the damn thing and chuck it on the stove. He sat on the sofa opposite in silence.
‘Cheers!’ she said raising her glass, but he just drank his down and poured another one. She tried to open the conversation. ‘I was dressed like this, and still am, because I had planned for us to have a cosy evening in together, darling.’
Simon snorted. ‘Ridiculous.’
‘What? I’m ridiculous? Or the idea of spending some time together is ridiculous?’ snapped Holly. That was the last straw. Why should she even try to explain something that had been planned so carefully and only with the best of intentions? It wasn’t her fault it had gone tits up, was it? Possibly if she’d remembered the guests then it might still have worked out alright, she thought with a squirm. Her head had been on other matters instead, such as lubricants and swimming in ice championships.
She looked across at Simon slumped in his muddy mountain biking clothes nursing his glass. He was staring towards the dog, though the dog might as well have been in space because there was absolutely no connection between Simon’s brain and anything else in the room. Where was he? What else had she done wrong? Everything had seemed fine yesterday. He’d been chatting about his week at work, checking his bike over, all the normal Friday stuff. She sighed and it was a proper sad, fed-up sort of sigh, which made both Simon and the dog shake themselves and look at her. The dog pulled himself up, stretched and walked over to Simon for an ear scratch.
‘Sorry, darling,’ said Simon, smiling weakly at his wife. ‘I’m sorry I snapped at you. Stuff going on at work: people getting fired. I may not have a job there for much longer, but I’m doing my best to make myself indispensable.’ He chuckled and scratched a bit more vigorously on the dog’s ears until the animal shook his head in irritation and walked off into the kitchen to sniff at his bowl.
Holly felt an enormous sense of relief and patted the sofa next to her. ‘Come here, love. I’m sorry about your work and I’m sorry about tonight too. I don’t know where my head’s been at, but I shouldn’t have forgotten those people. Good grief! What on earth must they have thought when they saw me dressed like this?’
‘You look very nice.’ Simon’s voice was sad, which was also not the reaction she’d been hoping for.
There was no point feeling disappointed.
‘It’s killing me,’ she said with a laugh, wriggling about until her robe fell off her shoulders and she had her back to Simon. ‘Loosen off the lacing before I pass out.’
He put his glass on the floor and reached for the black ribbon that laced the corset all the way down the back. The irony of it wasn’t lost on Holly: compassion rather than passion. Were they getting old?
At least she could breathe. She stood up and let the corset drop down around her waist and then wiggled it off over her hips. She heard Simon chuckling at her and she wanted to whack him round the head with the torturous garment, hoping the hooks and eyes on the front would scratch his face. Don’t take it personally, she reminded herself. Next time, check the cottage diary first before sex.
‘I love you just the way you are, Holly.’ Simon pulled her down next to him and held her very close. ‘You don’t need all that stuff. You’re a beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, and…’ he said, hesitating, ‘very funny woman.’ He nuzzled into her neck and it felt so good.
Her brain was shouting so many questions at her: what about the swim trunks, what were they all about? Would the oestrogen tablets the doctor had prescribed really have kicked in by now? Where did I put the lubricant in case they haven’t? Would the cottage guests give them a shit review on TripAdvisor? Her mind was chattering away while her body was beginning to respond to Simon’s touch. Oh, well, she thought, I’ll just have to pray the doctor knew what he was talking about.
She braced herself for the usual pain after the initial moment of penetration, but, so far so good. In fact, very good. And she started to remember what it felt like to make love, to lift her hips up and encourage her husband to go deeper and harder.