Shaun was visiting that weekend, so Jo would be unable to spend her Sunday with Pippa and the girls. They’d planned to all meet up on Saturday night, but her Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday were strictly reserved for him and him only. Which meant she had to make up for it on the Thursday night.
“That’s brilliant,” said Rachel. “Thursday night is ladies’ night at the club.”
“Fantastic,” said Pippa. “Now all we need is to find some ladies.”
They all shrieked with stupid laughter.
As they turned up at the club, Pippa gave Jo a little nudge.
“So,” she said. “Shaun’s coming tomorrow, eh?”
“Yup.”
“Does Josh know he exists yet?”
“Nope.”
“Never mind,” said Pippa. “I’m sure he won’t even notice.”
“Mm. Thanks.”
It was a brilliant night. Rachel and Gabriella decided that as they got in for free, they had to make up the difference in tequila slammers. Gabriella confessed that she fancied her boss’s husband and thought he fancied her and proceeded to give all the tiny sordid details, and Pippa had a shocking story about a friend of a friend who had been caught wearing her boss’s clothes. For Jo’s part, she made a mental effort to forget all about Shaun, Josh, and Gerry and when it didn’t work, got rat-arsed.
And after that, the evening just got better and better. In fact, when Jo got home and fell over Tallulah’s Barbie tricycle in the pitch-black hall, it was undoubtedly one of the funniest things that had ever happened to her in her entire life. And then, when she tried to get up but fell down again, landing on her knee because her heel was caught in the wheel, she thought she was going to asphyxiate from laughter.
Ten minutes later, she crawled into the kitchen, exhausted. She had to wash her knee. Easy. She climbed onto the kitchen worktop, turned on the tap, soaking herself in the process and then, positioned on all fours over the sink, put her knee in it. She hiccuped as her long hair cascaded over her face into the sink.
“Bugger,” she said. “Can’t reachy reach. Can’t reachy reach.”
She really couldn’t be bothered to get all the way off the work top, so she pushed one leg off the sink and tried to put the other one further in. Good thing she had such long legs and was wearing such a short skirt. Once her knee was wet enough, she tried to get the leg it was attached to out of the sink. Slowly but surely, she lowered the leg not in the sink, until eventually she had one foot on the floor and the other leg now at an uncomfortable angle on the worktop. She stood, breathing heavily.
“Oh deary deary dear,” she said to herself. “Who’s in a pick—” Hiccup. “Pardon. Who’s in a pick—” Hiccup. “Pardon. Who’s in a pick—” Hiccup. And then she laughed so much she almost fell over.
“Do you want any help?” someone said in the dark.
The shock of hearing Josh’s voice from the kitchen table made her jump.
“No thanks,” she said in a small voice, then swiveled her leg down and fell flat on her face.
There was a pause as a wave of humiliation washed over Jo’s previous hysteria. As the pause continued, certain parts of her body began to hurt. She hoped that she’d imagined Josh’s voice and the increasing pause convinced her of this. In the silence, she could just make out the pitiful sound of a drunk female starting to cry.
“Are you alright?” asked Josh, with a smile in his voice Jo could detect even through the haze that was her brain. “Don’t panic,” he said. “I’m coming.” She heard him heave his leg off the kitchen table. “I’ll be with you any hour now.”
“Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow” she explained, now weeping uncontrollably.
She couldn’t understand where the tears were coming from, she just knew she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t know how long she was there before Josh was crouched next to her.
“I’d pick you up,” he whispered, “but I can’t pick up a teaspoon at the moment.”
Jo hid her face in the floor. “I got you maimed,” she whimpered.
“Please don’t cry,” begged Josh. “I’m a bloke. I don’t know how to cope.”
Jo mumbled something incoherent, which seemed to upset her even more.
Josh leaned in close and was almost intoxicated by her breath. “What’s that?”
She mumbled it again.
He came in even closer. “I didn’t quite catch—”
“I miss my mum and dad.” She yelled into his ear. She started sobbing.
“Come on,” whispered Josh. “Up you get, you’ll be fine. Lean on me.”
With considerable effort on both of their parts, Jo got up and leaned on him.
He flinched. “Not that hard.”
Jo jumped away and was about to lose her balance when Josh gripped her firmly round the waist. They both fell against the worktop, their faces inches apart, their hips touching. Jo could feel Josh’s breath on her lips. She closed her eyes. The room spun. She opened them again.
“Alright?” he whispered.
‘Mmhmm,’ she murmured, her bones softening. She let her body pour in toward his and steadied her head against his chest. Everything felt better now. She didn’t dare move. Perhaps she could stay here forever. No, that was impossible, she had work tomorrow, and anyway, Shaun was coming to stay…
Her eyes opened suddenly. Shaun. Her boyfriend. Whom she had yet to tell Josh about. She was paralyzed. She was a wicked, bad person and she was paralyzed.
“Jo?” She heard his croak in her hair. His voice seemed to flow through her veins and it took every effort of willpower to pull herself away from him. Her throat was dry.
To her delicious horror, Josh’s body followed her, his face leaning in toward hers.
She gasped.
He gasped.
She stared at him in the dark.
He stared back at her.
She tried to speak.
He inched toward her.
“Josh?” she whispered.
“Yes?” he whispered back.
She felt tears in her eyes. “I—”
“Yes?”
“I have a boyfriend.”
Josh stopped.
“What?”
“Shaun. He’s coming to stay tomorrow, we’ve been together for six years, he’s proposed three times, he works in the construction industry.”
Josh moved away, and she almost fell over.
“Right,” he said, all warmth gone from his voice. “Let’s get you to bed.”
He guided her out of the kitchen, his had barely touching her.
“I’m so sorry, I should have told you—” the tears began again.
“Don’t talk daft—”
“I just couldn’t find the right time—”
“Now was perfect—”
“You hate me.” She tried to turn toward him.
“I don’t hate you.” He gently moved her away.
“You do, you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“You do, you hate me.”
“Shut up, Jo.”
Friday morning started fine and bright, which Jo could really have done without. She lay in bed torturing herself with regret. How could she have got so drunk? How could she be hungover the morning she was due to pick up Shaun? How the hell had she got into her nightshirt? She suddenly remembered what had happened when she got in last night. She cringed at the memory. The change in Josh’s personality had totally unnerved her. She wondered if he would be back to normal today. Her stomach churned. Oh God. She couldn’t face him. And she couldn’t face Shaun. She wanted to die.
Talking of which, her body could see her point. Some breed of farmyard animal had nested in the roof of her mouth during the night, and from the feel and sound of it, her brain was escaping out of her ears. It took her a good few minutes to realize that the sound was actually Josh in the shower.
She heaved herself up, sat on the edge of her bed, and looked at her bedside clock. Mickey Mouse’s long hand was nearly pointing at the twelve, which might have been why she found his smile particularly annoying this morning. She sat there for another five minutes before deciding that she was going to have to knock on the bathroom door.
She tapped gently. Nothing. She tried again. Nothing. Then just as she was about to hammer, the door opened and Josh stood there, a towel round his waist, water dripping off his torso. Her head jerked back in shock, which made it throb. “Yes?” asked Josh and then his eyes drifted to her chest. “Nice T-shirt,” he said tightly. “Wile E. Coyote was my favourite, too.”
She looked down at her T-shirt and frowned. Her head was not impressed by either action and let her know it in no uncertain terms.
I have to get in the shower,” she croaked, “or the kids will be late for school.”
Josh opened the door wide, letting it bang against the wall. “Don’t let me stop you,” he spoke loudly and walked past her. He was like a different person. To the sound of his door shutting, she stepped gingerly into the bathroom. She turned on the shower and stared at the falling water, wondering what she could have possibly drunk last night to make her feel this soul-destroyed.
Josh stood in his room, his body tense as he listened to Jo’s shower. He lowered himself onto his futon. Then very slowly, he inched himself down so that he was lying on it. He was absolutely knackered. He’d hardly slept a wink all night. It wasn’t so much the physical pain, which was making sleep hard enough, as the return of old prepubescent anxieties. He’d thought he was stronger than this. Everything, was so much easier when you had distance. He touched his forehead with his hand, then quickly moved it away again as soon as it made contact with the bruise between his eyes. He shifted into a more comfortable position.
But layered finely on top of those deep, familiar anxieties was a whole new set of fresh ones. He felt a strange, sick sense of confusion whenever he thought about last night. Jo turned out to be exactly the opposite of what he’d dared hope she was. And then, while a pattern of hateful, reassuring thoughts had made themselves at home in his head, he’d had to soothe her as she poured out her heart to him: She was terrified that her dad would die of a heart attack and her mum would die of loneliness. Oh yes, and by the way, she’d forgotten to mention she had a boyfriend. So could they just pretend that all the flirting and teasing and long lingering looks and that full-body hug and come-to-bed look and neck-nuzzling hadn’t happened, because by the way, that boyfriend she’d just mentioned? He was coming to stay. And then she’d instructed him to turn his back and wait for her to change, which took another half an hour because for some bizarre reason she was all fingers and thumbs.
It had been three before he’d got to bed. And once he lay there in the dark—on his own, out of Jo’s presence—everything became clearer. It was much easier to see the harsh truth when it wasn’t couched in a honey-limbed, aqua-eyed package.
After a night of not much sleep, he’d woken with a start at six this morning, and had had an immediate sensation of gut rot. It would pass, he told himself. It was a necessary stage, and it would pass. In too much discomfort to toss and turn, he’d had no choice but to walk through her room to the bathroom. He’d cracked open the door between them and sidled into her room. All was still. He’d tiptoed slowly across the floor, keeping his eye on the sleeping form in bed to check that it didn’t wake and do anything untoward like call six policemen to beat him to a pulp.
His eyes were accustomed to the dark by the time he reached Jo’s bed, and he stopped midtrack as he looked down at her.
Her long dark hair was fanned out against the pillow, her skin flushed with sleep, her lips parted in a half smile, and although those wide, almond-shaped blue eyes were shut, he noticed that the thick black lashes were gently fluttering. Soft sleep noises whispered out of her mouth, and before he knew it his mind had escaped and was wondering what she was dreaming of.
His gaze moved slowly downward. The duvet was twisted round those endless legs, and the mischievous face of Wile E. Coyote, lying snugly between her gently rising and falling breasts, winked up at him, man to man. He took one last glance at her innocent-looking face and proceeded into the bathroom, where he had a considerably colder shower than usual.
By the time Jo was out of the shower, he had dried, dressed, and made it into the kitchen. The children were all there with Vanessa and Dick, Dick cajoling Zak to eat his cereal, Cassie tying Tallulah’s shoelaces instead of eating breakfast, while Tallulah waved her pink glittery wand over the proceedings and Vanessa jotting down notes for Jo, issuing orders for all. Josh hardened himself to the image.
“Morning all!” he greeted them. “Who wants coffee?”
“Josh!” greeted Zak. “Will you play Batman with me after school? You can be the Joker.”
“Zak!” yelled Dick. “Sit down and eat your cereal. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Good,” said Zak. Parents were so thick sometimes.
Josh started putting the coffee on, hardly limping, but still moving slowly. When Jo finally came into the kitchen, he ignored the fact that she was paler than usual. Holding her head, she edged her way into the kitchen and apologized profusely for waking up so late. No one answered, and Vanessa, without looking at her, started giving her notes for the day. Jo nodded at them all, her eyes on the floor.
“Oh and I’ve got another meeting this afternoon,” continued Vanessa, “and I don’t know when it’s going to end, so can you pick up Cassie from her extra drama class? You haven’t got anything on have you?”
Jo’s face fell.
“Oh God,” she said. “I’m so sorry but I can’t. Shaun’s coming up today, don’t you remember? I told you last week.”
Josh leaned against the counter and started eating his cereal.
“Shit,” muttered Vanessa.
“Shit,” said Tallulah, waving her pink glittery wand over Zak’s head.
“I’m really sorry,” said Jo.
Josh tutted. “Why the fuck are you sorry?” he muttered through his cereal. “You’re allowed to have a boyfriend.”
“Fuck!” cried Zak, as Tallulah poked him in the eye with her pink glittery wand.
“Josh!” yelled Dick and Vanessa.
“Whoops. Sorry guys.”
“If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your mouth in front of the children, perhaps you could just not talk at all,” said Vanessa.
“I said sorry!”
“I’m sure it was an accident, darling,” said Dick. ‘Much like your eloquent “shit.” ’
“Shit!” repeated Tallulah, as Zak threw cereal in her face.
Josh turned to Jo.
“You need to stop apologizing for your personal life, you know,” he told her. “I hate to break it to you, but no one here gives a damn.”
“Thank you, Josh,” snapped Vanessa. “I don’t think we need your help here.”
“Well you need someone’s help,” countered Josh, “or you may end up with a child who feels abandoned, which can have nasty long-term effects.”
“I’ll do it,” said Dick quickly. “I’ll come home from work early. No problem. It’ll be nice to spend some quality time with Josh, too.”
Josh smiled. “There, that’s all sorted then. Cassie won’t feel abandoned, Dad and I get to spend time together and Jo gets to do whatever the hell she wants to do in her own personal life. Everyone’s happy.”
Jo blinked hard.
“Josh,” said Vanessa. “Please try not to use the ‘f’ word in front of Cassie.”
“Why?” asked Cassandra. “It’s not as rude as the ‘c’ word. Even though that refers to a perfectly natural and beautiful part of the female body.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“Zak!” screeched Dick suddenly. Zak nearly fell off his chair. “Eat your cereal! or Daddy’s going to get angry!”
When Jo sat in the Clio on her way to pick up Shaun from Highgate Station, she paused and took stock. This was her private space—much more so than her room, which almost felt like a shared room with Josh. She’d put her collection of small, cuddly toys in it as her lucky talismen and stared at them now to try and stabilize her thoughts.
It was the first time she’d been on her own for weeks and she was about to see Shaun for the first time in over a month, in just five minutes. And her head was jam-packed full of Josh. She wanted to apologize to him, but she wasn’t sure which bit of her behavior she was apologizing for. And anyway that hadn’t seemed to work last night. It was all so disconcerting—not just his Jekyll/Hyde turn, but how much she was letting it upset her.
She looked at the car clock. She was going to be late for Shaun. She tried staring at her cuddly toys again. They stared right back at her. None the wiser, she started the engine. As she drove down the steep slope toward Highgate Station’s entrance, she wasn’t surprised to feel a knot of tension in her stomach. And then she spotted him, sitting on the wall, reading a magazine.
Cheekbones like ice and eyes that matched his denim jacket and jeans. He’d washed his hair too. Goodness me, she thought. Ambassador, you are spoiling us. He didn’t spot her for a while, and she parked nearby and watched him. After a moment, he looked up. They looked at each other for a second, and then both grinned as familiarity slowly seeped back into their lives.
As he got up and walked toward the car, Jo’s breathing calmed. Everything was going to be alright, she was safe again. He opened the car door and leaned in, eyes twinkling in the sun.
“I wondered who that gorgeous girl was in the posh car.” He grinned. “And then I realized it was my gorgeous girl.”
To her surprise, Jo felt a wave of emotion wash over her, and she started crying.
Shaun quickly put his bag in the back and got into the car. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking straight ahead.
Jo flung her arms round his shoulder. “It’s good to see you,” she said, hugging with all her might.
Shaun closed his eyes, then held her tight until someone began hooting.
Jo really didn’t want to take Shaun straight back to the Fitzgeralds’, but she had the ironing and tidying to do, and Shaun said he didn’t mind at all. Thank God Josh had gone out.
As it transpired, what Shaun meant was that he didn’t mind seducing Jo while she tried to do the ironing. She finally gave up and they had a quick catch-up session in her bedroom. It had been nice, but she’d have preferred it if she hadn’t been listening for the door with one ear, worrying about the ironing with half her mind and thinking of Josh with the rest of her body. She did enjoy the novelty aspect of making love to Shaun after such a long time. Even though they followed their well-practiced technique, it didn’t feel predictable, it just felt safe and comforting, like coming home. Or rather, she thought, coming at home.
As soon as it was over, she leaped out of bed, dressed, and started the ironing again.
After ten minutes, Shaun joined her in the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head.
Half an hour later, he watched her iron her fourth Barbie vest with impressive speed. He looked up at the kitchen clock occasionally, sipping his tea.
“There’s something wrong with this tea,” he said.
“It’s leaves. Proper tea leaves.”
“Tastes like shit.”
“You get used to it. I’ll get some PG Tips in.”
“Thanks, babe.”
He stared at the tiny items of clothing that Jo still had to iron. Eventually, he got up and washed his mug in the sink. He’d seen taps like this in some of the new houses his teams had been commissioned to build. He mastered how the tap worked in only a few minutes. Afterward, as calmly as he could, he tore some kitchen towels off the chrome holder on the wall and wiped his groin.
He turned and watched Jo.
“Why are you ironing the boy’s pants?” he asked.
Jo glanced over.
“Can you take the paper off your groin while you talk to me, please?”
He grinned. “Come here and say that.”
“I’m ironing them because he won’t wear them otherwise,” she answered. “It’s difficult enough to get him to wear them when they are ironed. Downright impossible if they’re not.”
Shaun shook his head wearily. “What’s wrong with kids today?” he muttered. “What he needs is a good clip round the ear. He’d wear them then.”
“Mm,” agreed Jo. “And a woman’s place is in the home.”
“If he was your own kid, you could do it. No child of mine would ever expect his nanny to iron his pants.”
Jo put Zak’s pants on the table and picked up the Tweenies pillowcase. “But then no child of yours would have a nanny would they?” she asked. They’d been through this so many times, but today they were both saying it with half a smile on their faces. It was nice to know that some things never changed.
“Nope,” he said, adopting the tone of a Texas cowboy. “I’d find me a real woman who could be a real mother.”
Jo stopped ironing for a split second and looked up at him. “You mean you’d expect her to do all this for no money?” She grinned. “Tell me, Shaun—”
“Oh dear—”
“—do you think the child’s father isn’t a real father because he’s not ironing his son’s pants? Or is it just the mother who’s fighting her genetic programming by not ironing?”
“Don’t start,” said Shaun. “You know what I mean.”
“Oh yes,” said Jo. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“I mean a nice, happy family.”
“Where the woman’s life gets shrunk to fit her home, and the man’s expands—”
“Where the man earns the money that puts the roof over their heads, that’s what I mean.”
“Ooh,” said Jo. “It sounds lovely. Just like in The Waltons.”
“That’s right.”
“That anachronistic fictional escapism. For children.”
“You know, you don’t need to use posh words to impress me. Your arse is doing a good enough job already.”
Jo smiled. “Oh you sweet-talker, you.”
Shaun came and stood behind her and kissed her gently on her neck. Then he gave her another, even softer kiss further down her neck. Then he twisted her body round to face him and softly brushed his lips over her front. Then he pushed her up against the ironing board and started messing up the ironing. Then Josh came home.
“Don’t mind me,” called Josh, and they both jumped. As it happened, they both minded him very much. Jo spun back to her ironing, her face burning. She could hardly bear the new coldness in Josh’s eyes. She felt like some scarlet woman in a bad movie. Shaun waited a moment before stepping forward to Josh.
“Shaun Casey,” he said, holding out his hand. “Jo’s better half.”
“Josh Fitzgerald,” said Josh, shaking his hand firmly. “Half brother, half human.”
“Oh right,” grinned Shaun. “So not one of her charges then?”
“God no.”
“So she isn’t tucking you up in bed, too?” he laughed.
Josh let out a short sharp laugh. “Nope. If anything, it’s the other way round.”
The laughter stopped. Shaun looked over at Jo.
“I-I got a little drunk last night,” she explained.
Shaun tensed. “Right,” he said between his teeth.
“Then she got a little homesick,” explained Josh, “you know the thing, missing her mum, missing her dad, missing”—he gave a little shrug—“her mum and dad.”
Shaun nodded. “Right,” he said slowly.
“Anyway,” said Josh tightly, “don’t let me interrupt what you were doing. I know Jo always puts everyone’s needs before her own. Nice to meet you, Saul.”
“Shaun.”
“Shaun.”
And Josh left them to it.
Jo ironed three pairs of Zak’s pants before Shaun spoke.
“What the hell was all that about?” he whispered.
“What?” she answered innocently.
“Don’t play games, Jo.”
Jo sighed.
She spoke very quietly. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I got drunk last night and told him all about you. That’s all. It must be hurt ego. Probably expected me to fancy him, you know, poor little homesick nanny.”
She wondered who she was turning into as Shaun settled back down to watch her finish the ironing. After five minutes, they heard the front door slam shut. Josh had gone out for his afternoon walk.
“So why’s he at home then?” asked Shaun.
“I got him maimed because I thought he was going to kill me with an ax, so he’s been working from home to avoid getting his twisted ankle broken in rush hour. He’s back at work soon, thank God.”
“No I don’t mean that. I mean why’s he living here at all?”
“God knows.”
“What does he do?”
“He’s an accountant.”
Shaun sucked in a vast amount of air between his teeth, a trick he’d learned from years in the building trade.
“So he’s loaded, right?”
Jo shrugged. “No idea.” She finished the laundry and put the ironing board and iron away in the utility room. “Apparently his flatmates went traveling,” she called out. “Left him homeless.”
“They must all be made of money,” shouted Shaun. “If I had that sort of money, I’d be putting it into the future. Put a deposit on a house. Invest it.”
Jo loaded the washing machine.
“Maybe they can do both,” she said quietly.
“I bet that’s not the real reason he’s here,” shouted Shaun.
Jo came back into the kitchen, put down the empty laundry basket and started filling it with piles of neatly folded ironing.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I told you, there’s nothing to worry about. I just got drunk—”
“Not about that,” interrupted Shaun. “Just generally. His eyes are too close together.”
“They look fine to me,” said Jo quickly. “I’m going upstairs, follow me.”
Shaun followed her up the stairs into Tallulah’s bedroom, and leaned against the doorframe as she tidied up the child’s toys. Jo picked up the orgy of naked Barbies and Ken and dressed them all. Then she placed Tallulah’s Barbie Doctor, Barbie Civil Servant, Barbie Social Worker, and Ken Architect in their allotted space underneath the stationery shelves, checking that the 0.6mm lilac pens abutted the 0.6mm purple pen and not the 0.8mm blue.
“Why would a grown man,” continued Shaun, “with money to burn, come back home and live with Daddy and Daddy’s new wife and precocious kids if he could afford not to?”
“They’re not precocious,” she said, returning the dolls’ house figures to the library by the Dickens classics.
“I think,” said Shaun slowly, “that our Josh is a bit of a sponger. I take it he’s not paying rent?”
“No,” said Jo. “Vanessa said he was rent-free. How did you know that?”
Shaun laughed. “I’ve done up houses for blokes like him. So spoiled they don’t realize they’re grown-ups.”
Jo looked at him. “Follow me,” she said, and went up the next flight of stairs.
“Bugger me,” said Shaun. “How many floors does this house have?”
“This is it.”
Shaun followed her into Zak’s room and stopped at the door. He gave a slow, appreciative whistle at the toys.
“Shit,” he said. “I could be very happy in here.”
A top-of-the-line scooter sat beside the myriad robots, signed Arsenal football memorabilia, dinosaur collection, and racetrack. Gameboys littered the room. Above the bed hung a hammock full of more toys. In the corner was a small television and some more Gameboys. Shaun tore his eyes away and got back to the point.
“I’ve got it!” he cried.
“Well don’t come near me,” muttered Jo from under Zak’s bed, “I can’t catch it. Can’t take time off.”
“Josh knows something about Daddy that Daddy doesn’t want new wifey to know. And in return for keeping the secret, Josh has wheedled free rent and food from Daddy.”
Jo stopped folding Zak’s track suit bottoms.
“You think Dick’s having an affair?”
Shaun shrugged. “Or had one in the past. He had one when he was married to Josh’s mum, didn’t he?”
“That’s a horrid thought,” murmured Jo. She gasped. “Mind you, Vanessa did say she thought something was going on. And he does come home very late. Bloody hell.”
“I dunno,” said Shaun. “I just think there’s more to Joshua than meets the eye. How old was he when Daddy left?”
“Fourteen. Vanessa told me it was an awful marriage. They were rowing all the time.” Shaun shook his head and sucked in his breath again. “Bad age. Bad age for your dad to leave.”
Jo decided not to tell Shaun that’s exactly what Josh had confided to her. Anyway, it was beginning to strike her that maybe Vanessa was right about Josh. He seemed able to switch the charm on and off like a light.
“Bet you never get over that.” Shaun was still talking. “And it was rarer then, wasn’t it? Bet he was teased at school. Poor bastard. Must be really fucked up. Watching Daddy with his new kids all the time. It’s sick.”
Jo sat down on Zak’s bed. “Yeah, suppose it is.”
“So,” continued Shaun, “he can’t exactly like his stepmum much can he? Or his stepbrothers and-sisters?”
“He said…he mentioned briefly that he did.”
“Well of course he’s going to say that, isn’t he?” said Shaun.
“Yes. S’pose so.”
“And yet he’s chosen to live with them instead of finding his own place.”
They stared at each other.
“Maybe…” said Shaun, “he’s spying for his mum?”
Jo shuddered. “She’s a bitch. Big-time.”
“Ah!” said Shaun. “But I bet Josh loves her.”
“Of course he does.”
“Well there you go! She’s got Josh to sponge off the dad who left him, while spying for her at he same time.”
Jo sat motionless on the bed. Maybe, just maybe, that would explain why he was so friendly to her so quickly. Come to think of it, he’d plied her with drink and then he’d started confiding in her the first night they met—maybe he was trying to ingratiate himself with her so that she could help him spy on Vanessa? She thought back to that first conversation. How he’d been so insistent to know what she thought of them all. And how he’d given away so much about himself. She thought back to Dick telling her that Josh was a ladies’ man and Vanessa warning her not to fall for the famous Josh Fitzgerald charm.
After a moment, she shook her head, utterly confused and feeling increasingly depressed.
“I don’t think so—”
Shaun shrugged. “I dunno. I’m probably just imagining it all.
“We shouldn’t be talking like this,” said Jo suddenly. “They probably have a video cam up the cyberdog’s nose.”
Shaun laughed. “How does he smell?” he asked.
“He doesn’t,” replied Jo, scanning the tidy room. “He’s not real. Follow me.”
“Haven’t you finished yet?”
“No. And the quicker I do it the sooner we can go out.” She walked back downstairs and started tidying the kitchen.
“You have to admit the boy’s good-looking,” said Shaun.
“Who?”
“Josh.”
“Are you still going on about him?”
“I’m not going on about him, I’m just saying you have to admit he’s good-looking.”
Jo let out a wry laugh. “I don’t have to admit anything,” she said, filling the dishwasher. “I want my lawyer.”
“Oh come on,” said Shaun. “You must have noticed. If you like the poncey, public school type.”
“Never occurred to me.”
“Oh come on.”
“Alright,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s good-looking.”
Shaun didn’t answer.
“Perhaps you could actually help instead of just pestering me,” she said.
“Right,” said Shaun, joining her in loading the dishwasher while reminding himself to quit while he was ahead next time.
Jo knew exactly where to take Shaun on Friday night. Saturday night the girls were taking them both up to a great nightclub in town, so tonight she wanted to keep it local. She’d spotted a tiny French restaurant on Highgate High Street, which looked adorably cute. Shaun loved French food, and she’d booked ahead.
“We’ve only got two hours there,” she told Shaun as they walked up the hill.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “They chuck you out?”
“Not exactly, but they use the table twice in one evening. You can’t book it for the whole evening.”
“Bloody hell.”
“It’s a tiny restaurant.”
“And that’s our problem?”
“No, it’s just—look, it’s special.”
“What, as in ‘special needs’?”
She linked her arm with his.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “Don’t spoil it, we’ve only got one night alone.”
Shaun unlinked their arms and put his arm round her shoulder, squeezing her tight as they continued up the hill. He stopped at every estate agent they passed, which took considerable time as there were more estate agents than newsagents on Highgate Hill.
“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed. “Look at the prices!” He started laughing. “And Londoners think they’re better than us!”
“No they don’t.”
“Look at that one! And it’s only a two-bed flat. We could get a mansion for that at home.”
“Yes,” but you wouldn’t be in London.”
“I know!” he cried. “Brilliant!”
When they finally reached the restaurant, Jo led Shaun to the tiny window and made him peer in.
He smiled down at her, and she felt a weight lift from her shoulders. “Very nice,” he said. They walked down the narrow covered pathway to the side entrance and were led to the one table in the restaurant window. The waitress handed them their menus.
“Jesus Christ!” whispered Shaun. “Look at the prices!”
“Shaun!” hissed Jo, flushing.
“No wonder the Fitzgeralds pay you so much.”
“Shaun,” asked Jo. “Why are you spoiling this?”
Shaun looked up at her. He held her hand over the table. “Am I? I didn’t realize,” he said. “Sorry. It’s all just a bit new to me, that’s all.”
“I suppose I’ve got used to some things.”
Shaun gave a twitch of his eyebrows, which Jo pretended not to see.
When the waitress came over, Jo was about to order, when to her amazement, Shaun ordered for them both.
“What are you doing?” she interrupted.
“I’m ordering. What do you think I’m doing?”
“How do you know what I want?”
Shaun frowned. “You like it when I order for you.”
“I do not.”
“Yes you do, you always say you can’t make up your mind.”
“Well,” said Jo uncomfortably, “I can now.”
The waitress stopped writing. “Shall I come back?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Shaun.
“No,” said Jo. “We both know what we want, thanks.”
When Jo made her order, she looked straight at the waitress. Shaun ordered his usual, French onion soup and rack of lamb. When the waitress left them alone again, they looked at each other.
“So, since when did you like gravlax?” asked Shaun.
“Since I tried it.”
“What is it when it’s at home?”
“Dry-cured salmon marinated in herbs.”
Shaun tutted and shook his head.
When their food was brought to them, Shaun eyed Jo’s suspiciously. “Looks like leather.”
Jo gave him a look, and he shut up. They ate the rest of their meal in silence, occasionally interrupted by Shaun remarking how tasty the food was.
When they walked back, Jo started to tell him about the new friends she’d met and ignored the lack of enthusiasm in his responses. She supposed it was a bit unsubtle, telling him how happy she was, so she stopped. Instead, she began to describe the kids. When he started sighing at her tales of how much work she was expected to do and told her to have a word with her boss, she stopped. She was relieved when they got home.
Dick and Vanessa were in the lounge with the door shut, so they were able to tiptoe unnoticed into Jo’s room.
Half an hour later, Shaun rolled away from her and fell asleep. She lay in bed wondering if Josh had heard anything.