Vanessa sat in the Monday morning status meeting hunched over her coffee, wondering why they didn’t sell it in pints. Tallulah had woken her twice in the night, once at four and once at six, and it had taken her an hour to get back to sleep both times. Unlike all the other passengers in the train that morning, she’d been grateful when it stopped for ten minutes between stations because it gave her a clear run to do her makeup, catch her breath, and remember her name.
She’d sat opposite a teenager who was obviously on her way into town for a shopping day. She’d been unable to tear her eyes away from the young girl, trying to remember the teenager she’d been, able to do things purely for her own happiness in blissful ignorance of how selfish that would one day seem. It was as if the minute she’d become a mother, the definition of the word “selfish” had become gender-specific. A man could play golf all weekend and still be a family man. A woman could earn money all week, spend every spare moment with her children, and be selfish because she wanted both. One day she’d write a tome on the subject. When she had time.
“And that’s it,” finished Tricia, Vanessa’s junior. Vanessa stared at Tricia and was only a little surprised to find Tricia staring back at her. The girl must have finished updating.
“Thank you, Tricia,” said Vanessa, and proceeded to update everyone on the VC project so far. She was so tired she failed to notice an increasing intensity in Anthony Harrison’s stare. And she was completely unable to surmise that he was matching up certain key facts about her to certain key facts about his dream last night.
“So,” she concluded, “I’ll be seeing Miranda Simmonds, the marketing director for VC, again tomorrow, and after we’ve chatted, I’ll be able to brief the creative team. Shall we say nine a.m. Wednesday?”
“We can’t do nine, I’m afraid,” said Tom. “We’ve got a meeting with Happy Kids.”
“Afternoon?”
“Elephant plasters.”
Vanessa sighed. They had to get the ball rolling soon.
“How about 5:30?” asked Tom. “That way we don’t lose another day, and I get to miss bathtime with the twins. So everybody’s happy.”
Vanessa managed a tight smile.
“And we can go for a quick celebratory drink afterward,” added Anthony.
Vanessa didn’t have the energy to argue. She made a note to tell Jo that she’d have to pick up Cassie from choir practice.
After the meeting Anthony caught up with her in the corridor. “I look forward to being briefed by you.” He brushed past, his hips almost touching hers.
“Oh. I’ll look forward to giving it to you. I mean—”
“Terrific.”
Jo ironed happily, humming to herself while Josh read some notes, his foot resting on the kitchen table, a cat nudged up against his heel. When her mobile rang, Jo went into her bedroom to answer it.
“There you are!” shrieked Sheila. “I thought they’d eaten you!”
“Sheila!” screamed Jo, coming back into the kitchen. “Oh my God, how are you?”
“Neglected, you old bitch.”
“God, sorry. I’ve just been so busy.”
“Obviously. Far too busy to phone me.” Jo could sense a steel rod beneath the fluffy tone.
“Sorry, Shee.”
“So! I hear you’ve got a new friend.”
“Eh?” Jo tucked the phone under her ear as she continued with the ironing.
“Shaun told me. Some bird called Pippa. Does that mean I’ll be getting even fewer calls now?”
Jo stopped ironing. “Shee, please. Don’t give me a hard time. It’s not been easy. I—”
Jo was interrupted by the doorbell. She looked over at Josh. He glanced up and started moving his foot off the kitchen table. When he had to hide a wince, Jo motioned for him to stop trying.
“Shee,” she said, “I have to go. There’s someone at the door.”
“Right,” said Sheila. “Bye.” And she’d gone.
“Sorry,” said Josh. “This bloody leg.”
The doorbell interrupted again and Jo rushed to the door. She opened it to Agnita, the smiling Polish au pair who worked nearby and who came to the Fitzgeralds’ twice a week to do any ironing that wasn’t the children’s. Jo was convinced Agnita never wore knickers and today, as she followed her down the hall, it was more than usually obvious because she’d chosen to wear skintight white leggings. Jo found herself drawn to her amazingly pert, round bottom and scolded herself for being grateful that Agnita’s face had the bone structure of an archaeological find.
She glanced at the clock and saw that she had ten minutes to spare before picking up Tallulah. She imagined what Pippa would do in the same situation. She went into her room and and dialed Sheila’s number. Damn. Busy. She left a message explaining that she was terribly sorry she hadn’t been able to talk and she had loads to tell her. Then she tried Shaun. Damn. Also busy. She left a message telling him that she couldn’t wait until he came and visited. Then she paced round her room and went back into the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to see Josh’s fingers hovering above his keyboard, his eyes fixed on Agnita’s bottom.
“Busy?” she asked pointedly, making sure he saw her smile.
He grinned. “Oh yes.”
Unaware, Agnita smiled pleasantly up at Jo, and Jo smiled extremely widely back.
“Right,” she told them both. “I’ll be off to get Tallulah.” She turned to Josh. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
Agnita smiled, and behind her Josh looked ostentatiously despondent. Jo slammed the front door behind her, wondering what the definition of “flirting” was.
As he heard the door slam, Josh sighed heavily. With some effort, he lifted his foot off the kitchen table and limped out into the back garden, where he settled himself on a bench. After a moment, he took out his mobile and dialed his father’s number at the shop.
“Hello?” said Dick.
“Dad, it’s me.”
“How are you feeling?”
Josh gave himself a moment.
“Impotent. You?”
“Resigned.”
“Don’t say that. You took a risk, and it didn’t pay off. I’m still going to try and help.”
“How?”
“Just leave it to me.”
Dick sighed. “I can’t believe I got myself into this mess.”
“Dad, stop torturing yourself.”
There was a pause.
“It would have all been okay,” said Josh, “if it wasn’t for that screw up that night.”
“Why couldn’t you have just used your key?” asked Dick.
“’Cos someone forgot to tell me the nanny lived off the kitchen, didn’t they? I thought I was going to be beaten to death.”
“Well where do you think the nanny lives?”
“I don’t know! Under the stairs? We don’t have nannies in bachelor pads. More’s the pity.”
Dick let out a sigh.
“And then,” continues Josh. “Vanessa goes and gives her a raise! Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want the girl to starve, but—”
“I know. It’s not ideal, Josh, and I’m sorry. After everything you’ve—”
“No, Dad, I’m sorry. I just…wanted to help. I messed up again.”
“Josh, you’re helping by just being there.”
Josh stayed silent.
“Son, you are not responsible for my…for this.”
More silence.
“I better get back now,” said Dick. “Bye, son.”
In the record shop, Dick put down the phone, picked up his jacket, and locked the door behind him for the third time that morning. Josh wiped his face furiously on his sleeve, limped back into the kitchen, and resumed his work.